How do I describe The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)? Is it an allegory? An adventure? A tale of redemption? Of the evils of desire and wealth?

Sorry, I can't do it. I'll just say this film kept me thinking throughout, never sure about any character until the end.

The famous and oft-misquoted lines: "Badges? We ain't got no badges. We don't need no badges. I don't have to show you any stinking badges!"
Stinking Badges Home Page

Two views of Humphry Bogart

The hunky (if a man may be so bold to say) Bruce Bennett. He was Edgar Rice Burroughs' pick to play Tarzan, and eventually did, but not until after Johnny Weismuller (who had 29 gold Olympic medals but wasn't much of an actor). Bennett's birth name was Herman Brix, and he won the silver medal for shot put in the 1928 Olympics.

The gold hunters.

The personable Tim Holt who, at one time, was the fastest draw in film, able to draw his gun in five frames (about 1/6 of a second).

Walter Huston, the director's father, superb!

I haven't written about my foot experiences for a while, so here's a recap.

The pain is going down, but it still aches every morning. I've been taking the boot off at night, which my doctor said was okay to do. I was terrified the first night, and didn't sleep very well, constatly worried I'd roll over wrong, simultaneously snap the other bones, tendons, ligaments and muscles, and my foot would just flop off onto the floor.

There haven't been any cruch mishaps--so far. I have had a few near misses, especially when I've had my computer backpack on. It weighs over ten pounds, and I fully expect to fall over backward.

Taking the trash to the dumpster is an exercise in patience and focus. Twenty years ago I did some light study and practice in Buddhism, especially Zen and Mahayana. One practice involving mindfulness had me paying attention to everything I did for an entire morning. What did I see? How did the cereal bowl feel in my hands? What thoughts was I having? Non-attachment to thoughts is a result of meditation, and though I'm way out of practice (and was never very good), it's pretty helpful to set aside why that web page isn't working and just pay attention to how the trash bag, suspended from my right wrist, wants to thunk against the crutch or wind around it, threatening to spin me around like some video game villain after receiving a roundhouse kick by pressing, like, fourteen buttons simultaneously.

The dumpster looks a lot further away now that it used to.

I'm trying to work out regularly. This hasn't changed. I'm always trying. I don't use machines or weights, just a band looped around my heavy living room table. That's made adapting my routine much easier. But I'm really missing some kind of cardio workout. Again, this hasn't changed. I'm always missing a cardio workout!

Each day I'm grateful a) that I can do my work from home, and b) that I have supportive friends and family.

Oh, and c) frozen dinners.

Modern Times, another Charlie Chaplin classic, kept me laughing and often open mouthed its entire running length. It is, in my view, less a story than a tour de force by Chaplin, each scene another experiment in inventiveness.

Equally wonderful is the funny, enchanting, pretty pixie Paulette Goddard. Here's one of her quotes from the Internet Movie Database:

"You live in the present and you eliminate things that don't matter. You don't carry the burden of the past. I'm not impressed by the past very much. The past bores me, to tell you the truth; it really bores me. I don't remember many movies and certainly not my own."

This begins a superbly choreographed scene. That's Chaplin toward the left, being run through the cogs.

Chaplin after automatic feeding.

Paulette Goddard

The best scene in the movie