favourite films of the forties


Cairo’s homosexuality posed one of the biggest obstacles to securing overall approval of the picture. Hammett didn’t mince words in the novel. “This guy is queer,” says Sam Spade’s secretary as she hands him an engraved card bearing his name - Mr Joel Cairo. He speaks in a “high-pitched thin voice,” carries “gaily colored silk handkerchiefs fragrant of chypre,” and walks in “mincing, bobbing steps.” … Hal Wallis realised that American audiences - not to mention the Hays Office - were not ready for a candid look at homosexuality, which traditionally drew laughs and jeers out front. 

After seeing Lorre’s first day’s work, Wallis dashed off a memo to Huston: “Don’t try and get a nancy quality into him, because if you do we will have trouble with the picture.” Huston bent to Breen’s will. In the scene, Effie presents Cairo’s calling card to a bemused Spade, who holds it to his nose.

“Gardenia,” says Effie.

“Quick, darling, in with him,” replies Spade.

The rest Huston left to Lorre’s subtlety and the viewer’s imagination.

The svelte 137-pound Lorre who stepped before the camera seemed younger, fitter, swifter. More was asked of him and he asked more of himself. The role was the best of its kind to come his way in years and Lorre knew it.

“I’d often shoot a scene with Peter and find it quite satisfactory, nothing more,” recalled Huston - 

But then I would see it on the screen in rushes and discover it to be far better than what I had perceived on the set. Some subtlety of expression was seen by the camera and recorded by the microphone that the naked eye and ear did not get. He’d be doing little things that the camera close on him would pick up that standing a few feet away you wouldn’t see. It was underplaying; it was a play that you would see if you were close to him, as a close-up, as a camera is close. Things would flicker there and burn up slightly, like a lamp, and then dim down, and come on again. You’re watching something as if it were in motion.

from The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre -Stephen D Youngkin

In Sickness or in Health

“Hello (: from the prompt list could you do 18 and 27 with Juicy boy?(:”

#18 - “Cuddle me.”

#27 - “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s Friday evening. You find yourself lying on your couch, feeling sorry for yourself when in fact, you’d much rather be spending time with your boyfriend at the weekly SAMCRO bash. Fucking illness.

You felt cold, but kind of sweaty. Your head feels like it’s been smashed off a sidewalk, you want to cut your limbs off because they’re aching so much and you just feel like crying because you feel that bad.

Tears of frustration build up in your eyes as you bury your head into your pillow, trying to somehow ease the pain that tablets just couldn’t ease. All you want right now is to be wrapped up in your boyfriends arms, knowing that just being with him makes you feel better.

You decide to put on your favourite sad film, feeling like you just need a good cry. Forty five minutes in, your eyes felt sore with crying and your cheeks were stained with the tracks of your shed tears.

You groan loudly as you hear the doorbell sound, before wrapping your duvet around yourself and shuffling to the door. You could not be bothered to deal with visitors right now.

“Juice.” His face completely drops at the sight of you, your swollen eyes and your red nose, a tissue clutched in your hand like it’s your last lifeline. You’re so thankful to see him, your eyes glazing over with liquid, your hormones all over the place. “What’re you doing here? What about the party?”

“I asked Jax if it was cool to leave and he said yeah. I’m glad he did, you look like shit.” You laugh at his honesty, his face changing once he realised what he said. “No, shit, I didn’t mean-

“Get in here.” He walks past you, his face sheepish with a small smile once he sees you aren’t offended. Closing the door begin him, you watch as he shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his boots. “You want a drink?”

He goes to respond, a sneeze erupting from you and halting his speech. He walls over to you, pulling the duvet tighter around you and placing a kiss to your forehead. “Go and sit down, I can get myself a drink. You want anything?”

You shake your head, smiling lovingly at him and going to press a kiss to his lips before realising you’re sick. You place your hand over your mouth, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. He removes your hand, placing a single kiss to your lips. “I’m bound to get sick anyway.”

“Did I ever mention that I love you?” You ask, placing another kiss to his pink lips. He pretends to think about it, humming thoughtfully.

“Maybe once or twice. Now go.” You pretend to salute him, a grin on his face at your childish antics. You make your way to the couch as he disappears into the kitchen, sitting down and putting Marley and Me on. You spread out the duvet across the whole couch, so that you can both be covered by it.

Juice returns from the kitchen a few minutes later, a beer in his hand and a mug in his other. He places his beer on the table, passing you the mug, making sure you don’t burn yourself. “Tea and honey. It’ll help.

Your heart warms in admiration as you take a sip, Juice slipping off his jeans and pulling back the duvet, sitting next to you and covering himself over. You place your drink down, leaning back and pulling the covers up to your face.

“What we watching?” He inquires, a disgruntled groan leaving him as you tell him what’s currently playing. You shush him, leaning against his shoulder as the film starts.

“Cuddle me.” You whine, your blocked nose making you sound even more adorable than usual, he thinks. He rolls his eyes, smiling in fake annoyance as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side, your head resting on his chest. You wrap your arm around his waist, basking in his warmth.

For the rest of the film, that’s how you stay, wrapped up in each other. A sneeze here, a cough there, all from you of course. You hear a sniffle, turning to look up and thinking Juice has somehow instantly caught your illness, but you’re surprised to see tears falling down his face. He looks at you, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes.


He protests, a laugh leaving your lips. You wipe his eyes gently, his softness making you fall in love with him even more. You place a soft peck to his nose, pulling away but being stopped by his hand on the back of your head, his lips attaching to yours. You close your eyes as he kisses you, your leg swinging over his lap so you’re straddling him.

Your hands slide down his chest, slipping under his shirt as you feel his bulge through your pajama bottoms, his boxers being the only thing stopping him from springing out. You move your hips slowly, grinding on him as his tongue slips into your mouth, his moan being silenced between the two of you.

Just as he reaches under your top, you quickly separate from him, catching yet another sneeze in your hand, followed by three more. You groan, resting your head on Juices shoulder as he chuckles, stroking your back soothingly.

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispers, kissing your head adoringly. You press your lips against his neck, before getting off his lap and lying down, pulling him down with you. He obliges, covering you both with the covers as you somehow fit on the couch, entwined in one another.

“Thank you for coming here, and for always looking after me.” You thank him, stroking his face and cradling it in your hands. His hand rests on your hip, making patterns on your bare skin as you feel yourself getting more and more sleepy.

“It’s my job, baby. Sleep now, you need to rest.” You nod, him placing a lasting kiss on your pouted lips before tangling your legs together, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

Originally posted by chrisbeck

A/N - I’m currently rewatching SOA and I gotta say, Juice is slowly becoming one of my faves. Until he fucks up ugh😂😩 hope you guys liked this! Thanks for requesting @crystalbaby12 xxx