Throat-clearing folderol until we get to the meat, and then the pudding! How can you have your pudding if you don’t have any meat! And why wouldn’t you want your meat? What was so bad about English boarding schools that the boys regularly refused to consume the meat? Was it hardtack or salt-pork or some grisly grey leathery slab no amount of worchester sauce (pronounced “wuztr”) could disguise? Not even the fiery touch of Colman’s mustard could help?
What was wrong with the meat? It did something horrible to Roger Waters, we know that; he’s still banging on about it 60 years later. I mean, we had some lousy pizza in middle school but I’m not out there saying “I must remind everyone that school was regimented and oppressive and I will not be saying these things in Israel.”
Colman’s mustard, by the way, is really good. I don’t know how a culture noted for bland cuisine would come up with something like that. Didn’t it make them wonder . . . what if we added flavor to everything?
Anyway. Rainy day. Blustery and all the April cliches, except in May. I did some stuff and then I napped and then I did more stuff, some of which follows.
I wonder if this will be able to be displayed in Europe. I am reproducing images that do not belong to me. There is no intent to claim ownership or divert traffic; it’s Fair Use, because I’m adding something and critiquing and explaining. The alternative is to say nothing, show nothing, and we all learn nothing.
Here goes . . . nothing, I giuess.
When it comes to Mexican cinema, I know nothing. I can probably be excused this failing, since it’s not my line of work. But for years I’ve been fascinated by a collection of Mexican movie posters, all of which are fantastic in all senses of the word.
Do you need any additional incentive to watch that movie?
This one interested me:
What would assume? Romance between the bus driver and the senorita, perhaps?
Now place it in the context of the other poster on the page.
Now you realize the star is the short guy in the red shirt. David Silva! Oh, he must have been a beloved short fat comic actor who specialized in bus comedies! Right?
His English wikipedia entry is pathetic, and the translated Mexican page is amusing:
David Silva Guglielmeti ( October 9, 1917 , Mexico City - September 20, 1976 , Mexico City) was a prominent Mexican actor, well known for his versatility in the golden age of Mexican cinema . Icon of various social strata and prolific actor, he extended his activity based on a broad professionalism, which earned him to be considered a sacred monster of Mexican cinema.
David's acting discipline was fireproof, physical maturity went hand in hand with acting, his physical image allowed him to play diverse roles, characters with extreme profiles. The versatility would help him and he would start to shoot films with police and even black dye, the so-called " arrabal" cinema knew his most famous side in Juan Orol , but also in David Silva. Mafioso, gangster , corrupt policeman, trafficker or trafficker of white , these sordid characters would be reflected in the interpretations of David, the image of a surreal Mexico was taken to the screen.
By the decade of the 1960s , age had become a limitation for his film roles: the hero, gallant or handsome villain had been left behind.
But wait. He’s not handsome.
Maybe . . . that’s not him? Is there another common name on the bill? Fernando Soto (Mantequilla). That has to be it - a comic actor known by some affectionate nick. Yes, that’s him.
Some of the most amazing work comes from Josep Renau Berenguer. Bio:
(17 May 1907 — 11 November 1982) was an artist and communist revolutionary notable for his propaganda work during the Spanish Civil War. Among his production, it is remarkable his art deco period, his political propaganda during the Spanish Civil War, the photomurals of the Spanish Pavilion in the International Exhibition of 1937 in Paris, a series of photomontages titled Fata Morgana or The American Way of Life, and murals and paintings made in Mexico such as Tropic, dated in 1945.
Ended up in East Germany, where he got to experience the wonders of Communism close up. Died there. From Mexico to grey purgatory: hope he enjoyed the trip.
My point, if I have one, braids with the thoughts I’ve been rolling around as I redo the Curious Lucre site. Why? You ask. Because it’s snarky and jokey and insufficiently instructive. There are about 275+ bills in my collection, and I’m almost done scanning them all. Half have been resized; about 130 pages have been rewritten so far. It’s slated to run in 2021, which just boggles me - so much stuff to roll out. 2021! Criminey!
Stop it! Do something else!
Anyway, figuring out the story behind the money means studying the history of the countries, and there’s a lot of Central and South American money. It’s a parallel history to ours, with rhymes and discords, each nation having its own foundational stories and heroes with a common root. If I won the lottery I think I’d spend a year or two down there, going back and forth, visiting capitals and second-largest cities.
Many more posters online; start here for some magazine covers by that talented Red.
Remember this feature? We never met Bela Lanan himself. We never will.
This was a daily feature, with the solution on Saturday. We'll do it the way they did it then - one entry per day, with the expectation that you'll be following the story.
WHY NOT? IT COULD BE