No, Jimmy, your butt certainly does NOT look fat in those swim trunks.

I MET A MURDERER (1939) barely made it out of the silent era, with all those dramatic close-ups, overwrought orchestral crescendoes, and awkward edits. Plus, the leading lady’s eyebrows were about tweezed out of existence. (I know, I’m overly obsessed with eyebrow fashion through the ages.) But she did call their car “Auntie” and James Mason’s character shot his wife because she shot his border collie.  Fair enough.

Oh, yeah, there was another movie in this double bill:

Even three-strip Technicolor couldn’t save this. When the lights went up, one of the PFA regulars loudly pronounced it a “stinker.”

FOOTSTEPS IN THE FOG (1955).

Hello? Yes, this is Clive.

Oh, how lovely to hear from you!

Yes. It was quite a film, in fact, it is a bit of an OBSESSION (1949) of mine.

Uh-huh.

Yes, Monty the dog saves the day, but it is in fact the cat that alerts the police.

Um-hm. Oh, yes, I did see Lucy at the screening. She didn’t take her usual seat, even when one of the regulars offered to scootch over.

No, she’s not that particular. I know.

Um-hm.

Oh, then the other regular mentioned that she’d like to have her ashes buried in the theater!

I know! I almost cannot believe it either!

Yes, the Tea and Larceny series at the PFA is a must-see all around.

See ya, pal!

Oh?

American slang, you say?

Well, Mr. MacGuffin, I have to ring off now.

All right. Good-bye.

The tell-tale buzz of a motor boat; cuckolded Claude Rains using a damning playbill as a coaster; the sweat on Ann Todd’s brow as she contemplates going under the Underground.  David Lean flushes us down the flashback in THE PASSIONATE FRIENDS (1948).

Why doesn’t the head of the MPAA affix his signature to the bogus ratings they give American films?

NOW, VOYAGER (1942) lap dissolves. Bette Davis confirms what we women have always suspected: a groomed eyebrow changes everything.