Old Hollywood
Cinema
1900-1979
Nostalgia is a seductive liar - George Wildman Ball
Florence Bates escorts her guest out in The Brasher Doubloon (1947, dir. John Brahm), an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s The High Window (via)

Florence Bates escorts her guest out in The Brasher Doubloon (1947, dir. John Brahm), an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s The High Window (via)

Mike Mazurski & Dick Powell in publicity still for Murder, My Sweet (1944, dir. Edward Dmytryk), an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s novel I caught the blackjack right behind my ear. A black pool opened up at my feet. I dived in. It had no bottom.

Mike Mazurski & Dick Powell in publicity still for Murder, My Sweet (1944, dir. Edward Dmytryk), an adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s novel

I caught the blackjack right behind my ear. A black pool opened up at my feet. I dived in. It had no bottom.

David Shire - Marlowe’s Theme (via Farewell, My Lovely: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Henry Fonda in The Long Night (1947, dir. Anatole Litvak) (photo by Alexander Kahle) “There is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself.”  -Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

Henry Fonda in The Long Night (1947, dir. Anatole Litvak) (photo by Alexander Kahle)

“There is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself.” 

-Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

Lauren Bacall in publicity still for The Big Sleep (1946, dir. Howard Hawks) She was worth a stare. She was trouble. She was tall and rangy and strong-looking. She had a good mouth and a good chin. There was a sulky droop to her lips and the lower lip was full. She had a drink. She took a swallow from it and gave me a cool level stare over the rim of the glass. -Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep (1939)

Lauren Bacall in publicity still for The Big Sleep (1946, dir. Howard Hawks)

She was worth a stare. She was trouble.

She was tall and rangy and strong-looking. She had a good mouth and a good chin. There was a sulky droop to her lips and the lower lip was full. She had a drink. She took a swallow from it and gave me a cool level stare over the rim of the glass.

-Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep (1939)

Raymond Chandler (co-screenwriter on Double Indemnity, The Blue Dahlia, Strangers on a Train, etc.) (via latimes.com) On Hollywood: “Like every writer or almost every writer, who goes to Hollywood, I was convinced in the beginning that there must be some discoverable method of working in pictures which would not be completely stultifying to whatever creative talent one might happen to possess. But like others before me I discovered that this was a dream. Too many people have too much to say about a writer’s work. It ceases to be his own. And after a while he ceases to care about it. He has brief enthusiasms, but they are destroyed before they can flower. People who can’t write tell him how to write. He meets clever and interesting people, and may even form lasting friendships, but all this is incidental to his proper business of writing. The wise screenwriter is he who wears his second-best suit, artistically speaking, and doesn’t take things too much to heart. He should have a touch of cynicism, but only a touch. The complete cynic is as useless to Hollywood as he is to himself. He should do the best he can without straining at it. He should be scrupulously honest about his work but he should not expect scrupulous honesty in return. He won’t get it. And when he has had enough, he should say goodbye with a smile, because for all he knows he may want to go back.”

Raymond Chandler (co-screenwriter on Double Indemnity, The Blue Dahlia, Strangers on a Train, etc.) (via latimes.com)

On Hollywood:

“Like every writer or almost every writer, who goes to Hollywood, I was convinced in the beginning that there must be some discoverable method of working in pictures which would not be completely stultifying to whatever creative talent one might happen to possess. But like others before me I discovered that this was a dream.

Too many people have too much to say about a writer’s work. It ceases to be his own. And after a while he ceases to care about it. He has brief enthusiasms, but they are destroyed before they can flower. People who can’t write tell him how to write. He meets clever and interesting people, and may even form lasting friendships, but all this is incidental to his proper business of writing.

The wise screenwriter is he who wears his second-best suit, artistically speaking, and doesn’t take things too much to heart. He should have a touch of cynicism, but only a touch. The complete cynic is as useless to Hollywood as he is to himself. He should do the best he can without straining at it. He should be scrupulously honest about his work but he should not expect scrupulous honesty in return. He won’t get it. And when he has had enough, he should say goodbye with a smile, because for all he knows he may want to go back.”