Girls at Sea
A fascinating film, between The Baby and the Battleship and Operation Petticoat, in which The Sin of Harold Diddlebock is given a surreal blossoming into a NATO bedroom farce, which is handled with Royal Navy spit and polish.
What a Whopper
“Start packing your gear, you’re coming to Loch Ness!”
“Oh, now, now, wait a minute.”
“Well, I can’t work all this stuff by myself, now can I?”
“Oh, good! I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”
“But you can’t come trailing—“
“Don’t argue, Tony. If Vernon goes, I go. After all, we are engaged.”
“Of course, I keep telling you, Vernon.”
Young artists, “flicking”, sculptural, novelistic, concrète, fob the monster off on an unsuspecting public, to sell a novel, to pay the rent.
“Well, there it is.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful.”
“I say, what a marvelous view.”
The approach by road to the loch. Claymore Inn, run by salmon poachers.
“It was marvelous, did you see Postie’s face?”
“It was a picture.”
An impressionistic rendering of these events, a prop at the Serpentine.
“It’s all right for you.”
Nessies proliferate, all but a Tourist Centre, “Nessie hersel’!”