The Fredösphere

A friend of the wifeösphere recommended an old Bette Davis movie called Jezebel.  My first question:  what's with that woman's eyes?  Creepy, deformed, unfeminine, repulsive -- thus, they must be objects of allure for some tiny, warped segment of society.  Second question:  how did Henry Fonda ever become a big star?  Not from this movie, I think, although I suppose in Grapes of Wrath he was what passed for compelling in that era.  Here, he's an unconvincing blue blood with a bad accent.

We're in antebellum New Orleans, you see, and Fonda plays Preston Dillard, a banker wooing the headstrong, impulsive Julie Marsden, played by Davis.  The scenes are gussied up with lots of ladies in fabulous dresses that spring out from their hips like fountains of lace.  Women of the 30s may have been dazzled by such finery; the wifeösphere's reaction was:  "my goodness, those women sure didn't dress to be taken seriously."  Well put.

Serious disorientation occurs when you watch the scene when Preston's future father-in-law encourages him to discipline Julie with some good old-fashioned corporal punishment.  Dad explains he tamed his wife early in their relationship with a good caning, followed up with a gift of a diamond brooch.  Yes ... yes ... I've heard of this technique.  They call it the carat and the stick.

Well, here I am, giving this movie a beating, when the truth is, I enjoyed it.  The plot contains a few genuinely surprising twists, which redeemed it for me.  What I found to be beyond redemption was the video of the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest.  Naturally I would like to follow up on last week's post, but half-way through the film clip, I found myself unable to watch any more.  There was something about this four-millionth example faux-demonic rock that suddenly didn't seem so faux.  Ugly is cute for only so long.  The Manolo, he agrees.  I've had enough.  No link for you; if you must see the clip, the 600 nanoseconds it will take you to google it is on your own account.