Katharine Hepburn & Cary Grant practice their somersault scene on the set of Holiday (1938) (via getty archives)

L’Inferno (1911, dir. Giuseppe de Liguoro)

“I saw it clearly, and still seem to see, a headless trunk, that goes on before, like the others, in that miserable crew, and holds its severed head, by the hair, swinging, like a lantern, in its hand. It looked at us, and said: ‘Ah me!’.

When it was right at the foot of our bridge, it lifted its arm high, complete with the head, to bring its words near to us, which were: ‘Now you see the grievous punishment, you, who go, alive and breathing, to see the dead: look if any are as great as this. And so that you may carry news of me, know that I am Bertrand de Born, he who gave evil counsel to the Young King. I made the father and the son rebel against each other: Ahithophel did no more for Absalom and David, by his malicious stirrings.

Because I parted those who were once joined, I carry my intellect, alas, split from its origin in this body. So, in me, is seen just retribution.”

-Canto XXVIII, The Divine Comedy: Inferno

L’Inferno (1911, dir. Giuseppe de Liguoro)

The hurricane of Hell in perpetual motion                                            

Sweeping the ravaged spirits as it rends,
Twists, and torments them. Driven as if to land,
They reach the ruin: groaning, tears, laments,

And cursing of the power of Heaven. I learned
They suffer here who sinned in carnal things—
Their reason mastered by desire, suborned.

As winter starlings riding on their wings
Form crowded flocks, so spirits dip and veer
Foundering in the wind’s rough buffetings,

Upward or downward, driven here and there
With never ease from pain nor hope of rest.
As chanting cranes will form a line in air,

So I saw souls come uttering cries—wind-tossed,
And lofted by the storm.

-Canto V, The Divine Comedy: Inferno

via L’Inferno (1911, dir. Giuseppe de Liguoro), the first film adaptation of Dante’s epic poem and the first full-length Italian film. Heavily influenced by the work of the 19th-century French artist Gustave Dore, the film follows Dante & Virgil as they travel through the nine circles of Hell. In the scene pictured above, Beatrice enlists Virgil to guide Dante in his journey.

The film can be seen online starting here (accompanied by a rather ghastly modern soundtrack, but that’s what the mute button is for).

Louise Brooks in publicity still for Pandora’s Box (1929, dir. G.W. Pabst)

“In writing the history of a life I believe absolutely that the reader cannot understand the character and deeds of the subject unless he is given a basic understanding of that person’s sexual loves and hates and conflicts. It is the only way the reader can make sense out of innumerable apparently senseless actions.

To paraphrase Proust: how often do we change the whole course of our lives in pursuit of a love that we will have forgotten within a few months. We flatter ourselves when we assume that we have restored the sexual integrity which was expurgated by the Victorians. I too am unwilling to write the sexual truth that would make my life worth reading. I cannot unbuckle the Bible Belt. That is why I will never write my memoirs.”

-Louise Brooks, “Why I Will Never Write My Memoirs”, Lulu in Hollywood

Orson Welles in The Third Man (1949, dir. Carol Reed)

Katharine Hepburn, looking quite pleased with her pantsuit, at the Hotel Australia, Sydney (1955, via)

From Hepburn’s 1981 interview with Barbara Walters:

Hepburn: “I have not lived as a woman. I have lived as a man…I’ve just done what I damn well wanted to and I made enough money to support myself. And I ain’t afraid of being alone.”

Walters: “Is that why also you wear pants?”

Hepburn: “No, I just wore pants because they’re comfortable.”

Walters: “Do you ever wear a skirt, by the way?”

Hepburn: “I have one.”

Walters: “You have one.”

Hepburn: “I’ll wear it to your funeral.”

(Excerpt quoted above can be seen on youtube here)

Werner Herzog, speaking at the British Film Institute, watches a clip of Klaus Kinski in Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972, dir. Werner Herzog)

“[Werner] Herzog is a miserable, hateful, malevolent, avaricious, money-hungry, nasty, sadistic, treacherous, blackmailing, cowardly, thoroughly dishonest creep. His so-called ‘talent’ consists of nothing but tormenting helpless creatures and, if necessary, torturing them to death or simply murdering them. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything except his wretched career as a so-called filmmaker. Driven by a pathological addiction to sensationalism, he creates the most senseless difficulties and dangers, risking other people’s safety and even their lives -just so he can eventually say that he, Herzog, has beaten seemingly unbeatable odds.

…If he wants to shoot another take because he, like most directors, is insecure, I tell him to go fuck himself. Every scene, every angle, every shot is determined by me, and I refuse to do anything unless I consider it right. So I can at least partly save the movie from being wrecked by Herzog’s lack of talent…He should catch the plague! Syphilis! Yellow fever! Leprosy! It’s no use; the more I wish him the most gruesome deaths, the more he haunts me.”

-Klaus Kinski, via his autobiography Kinski Uncut

“Kinski’s fits can partly be explained by his egocentric character. Egocentric is perhaps not the right word; he was an outright egomaniac. Whenever there was a serious accident, it became a big problem because, all of a sudden, he was no longer the center of attention. He was no longer important.

[On the set of Fitzcarraldo], a lumberman was bitten by a snake while cutting a tree. This was the most dangerous snake of all. It only takes a few minutes before cardiac arrest occurs. He dropped the saw and thought about it for five seconds and then he grabbed his saw again and cut off his foot. It saved his life, because the camp and serum was 20 minutes away. When that happened, I knew Kinski would start raving  with some trifling excuse, because now he was just a marginal figure.

In another incident, a plane crashed, which was bringing people here. Luckily, they all survived, but some were seriously injured. Kinski saw that he was no longer in demand. So, he threw a fit, because his coffee was only lukewarm that morning. For hours he screamed at me, that close to my face. Incredible. I didn’t know how to calm him down, and then I had an inspiration. I went to my hut, where, for months I had hidden a piece of chocolate. We would almost have killed one another for something like that. I went back to him, going right into his face and ate the chocolate. All of a sudden he was quiet. This was utterly beyond him.

Kinski’s raving fits strained things with our Indian extras. They were Machiguengas, these two here, and a lot of Campas, too. Normally, they speak very softly and physical contacts are gentle. They were afraid. They would sit huddled together, whispering.

Towards the end of shooting, the Indians offered to kill Kinski for me. They said: “Shall we kill him for you?” And I said: “No, for God’s sake! I still need him for shooting. Leave him to me!”

I declined, at the time, but they were dead serious. They would have killed him, undoubtedly, if I had wanted it. I at once regretted that I held the Indians back from their purpose.”

-Werner Herzog, via his documentary My Best Fiend (1999)

Alfred Hitchcock & Tippi Hedren on the set of Marnie (1964, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)

“To be the object of somebody’s obsession is a really awful feeling when you can’t return it.”

-Hedren, on working with Hitchcock

Tippi Hedren in Marnie (1964, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)

1930’s state-of-the-art forensic fingerprint analysis via M (1931, dir. Fritz Lang)

“I’m one Hollywood star who hasn’t taken an overdose of sleeping pills. I haven’t been in jail, and I don’t go running to the psychiatrist every two minutes. That’s something of an accomplishment these days.”

-Ava Gardner