Last night I watched my first W.C. Fields film, Man on the Flying Trapeze (1935/Bruckman); the fact that the title has absolutely no relevance to the plot or synopsis is telling of the casual unfolding of the narrative. There's something very humble and human in this sort of humour; a bumbling everyman who doesn't like many people, lacking the sharp wit of, say, Groucho Marx, but astute and honest enough to get by in his own way. I look forward to seeing others; I know It's a Gift is one of Turnbull's favourites.

Today, on the big screen I saw Gilda (1946/Vidor). Rita Hayworth is astonishing, and the sexual ambiguity of the protagonist is obvious and unsettling. Very good.