It has come to my attention that almost no one is voting on my film noir poll. Normally I’d consider this a personal affront and ample cause for a profanity-laced rant on how nobody cares anymore, nobody. But my wife Tess has pointed out it’s probably because I didn’t include her personal favorite neo-noir: The Grifters, from 1990.
OK, it was a glaring omission. Any film that has somebody beating up on Angelica Huston with a sack of oranges — that’s some serious noir. And if it’s based on a novel by Jim Thompson, with a screenplay by Donald E. Westlake, it definitely has the street cred. In hindsight, maybe I should have killed Memento and added The Grifters.
Too late now, though. All I can do at this point is drink cheap whiskey and, later this evening, probably decide to quit blogging forever. Hope you’re happy.