Saturday, March 4, 2017

Last night I dreamed up a new movie for Charlie Chaplin's oeuvre, a film called The Two Fops that I was watching in my sleep, until Tom came to bed and I woke up and told him about the movie, and he laughed and said, "What is a fop?"

So I explained the definition of fop, and then this morning I googled the title, just in case there really was a movie by that name. I did not discover a movie, but the British Museum does own a Jean Louis Forain print, Les Deux Gommeux, whose title translates as The Two Fops, and it looks remarkably like a still from my imaginary silent movie. Of course I have never seen this print before.



So that is today's weird brain invention-conflation. The whole thing feels very Iris Murdoch. Perhaps I will shortly have a strange philosophical obsession with the print curator at the British Museum, who will turn out to be having an affair with my sister-in-law, who herself is involved with an odd cultish group studying the bones of Richard III, and all the women in our story will be wearing beautiful brightly colored clothes, and the men will be slightly sweaty and wear nylon undershirts beneath their business suits, and we will walk on pebble beaches in inappropriate shoes, and one of us will own an all-seeing dog who rescues someone or other from an undersea grotto, and The Two Fops will be reprinted ambiguously on the book cover.

5 comments:

Ruth said...

Just set that to a steady beat and you can perform in coffee houses for Open Stage Night. We were "treated" to something similar last night by 2 rather rude and disdainful people. I am sure you would not be.

Carlene said...

Wow...I like where that is going...
kind of reminds me of watching Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. Which I love, by the way. =)

Mr Hill said...

I think one of my very favorite Onion headlines is "Foppish Dandy Disregards Local Constabulary."

Speaking of Murdoch, I'm reading The Unicorn out loud to the whole fam right now, though I suspect I might have to whistle through a few parts before it's over.

Dawn Potter said...

The Onion headlines are an art form in themselves.

I've never read Murdoch aloud to anyone. How does it roll off the tongue? And what's your family's response? I'd guess you'll definitely have to whistle. It's amazing how a woman who never writes a sex scene can manage to create such a lurid atmosphere.

Mr Hill said...

She has been a delight to read out loud, but especially the concrete bits. I'm a little surprised. I'd started it on my own, but when I described the first chapter, my kids said they wanted to hear what happens so I thought we'd give it a shot and now we're all hooked. They love the landscapes and Murdoch's frequent direct characterizations are so cleverly phrased.

The cover of our copy alone is pretty lurid. We have this recurring gag where, if I encounter a sketchy passage from something like Lonesome Dove, I start describing one of the feasts held by the cute furry animals of the Redwall series, full of "thimbleberry wine" and "acorn flan." That's the signal for 'nothing to see here' and it is worth a few laughs and allows us to read books we probably wouldn't otherwise.

Anyway, she's great fun.