An empty arena. The crowds, the bulls, the horses and the players are gone.
A fading phrase reminds us of long ago. Rouben Mamoulian had set the scene. Was it Twentieth Century Fox or was it Spain? Tyrone Power or Juan Gallardo? Laird Cregar, or Natalio Curro? Curro the critic, larger than the moment, is surrounded by sycophants. He gestures to the beautiful Dona Sol, who is in the stands applauding the spectacle. He speaks of death in the afternoon and death in the evening. But that was long ago -- seventy years ago. Now the arena is quiet and the players are no longer with us (an untimely death took a number of them). Only the film remains: Blood and Sand.
No comments:
Post a Comment