ball of fire

I’ve been working through Barbara Stanwyck’s movies ever since Anthony Lane’s essay in the NYer last spring. Conceptually, Ball of Fire might be a bit of a stretch: 12 bachelor learned men living in a house together while they perfect their encyclopedia, only to have their erudite bliss disrupted by a slang-mouthed stripper. But whatever, I thought it was fun.

Also, some brave soul has united dear Stanwyck with T-Pain’s breakout hit. Loves it!


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