The hardest thing to do and the least respected when it works.
A comic play about love’s irrationality, law’s fragility, and the forest’s power to dissolve both. The brief shows how Hermia’s defiance and Lysander’s 'course of true love' speech drive the action — and why the craftsmen’s subplot should be skimmed after the first reading.
Beatrice and Benedick argue their way into a marriage; Claudio believes a lie about Hero and denounces her at the altar. The brief covers why the comic plot outlives the romantic one, what two words in Act IV do to the play, and how little the villain has to try.
Richard Lester’s 1964 musical comedy captures the Beatles during Beatlemania’s peak, using a fictional 36-hour sprint to concert performance as scaffolding for their music, wit, and chemistry. Shot in black-and-white with vérité energy, it prioritises rhythm over narrative, performance over psychology, and spontaneity over polish. Though thin on character depth and social critique, its influence on music video and ensemble comedy remains profound. It remains watchable not as nostalgia, but as a masterclass in tonal discipline.
A Lesson in Love (1954) is Ingmar Bergman’s gently ironic study of a Stockholm marriage tested by professional pride, quiet restlessness, and a charming patient. Starring Eva Dahlbeck and Gunnar Björnstrand, it trades existential gravity for domestic nuance, using light comedy and unhurried observation to explore love as daily practice rather than grand declaration. Shot by Martin Bodin and scored by Dag Wirén, it remains a subtle, underseen pivot in Bergman’s career — modest in scope, exact in execution.
Ingmar Bergman’s 1964 comedy All These Women is a stylised, colour-saturated parody of artistic biography and authorial myth-making. Set over four days at a summer villa, it follows a biographer unable to meet his subject — a cellist surrounded by lovers, each performing a version of devotion. With Sven Nykvist’s precise cinematography and Erik Nordgren’s waltz-and-dissonance score, the film sustains a tone of elegant, unrelenting artifice. It is among Bergman’s few comedies, and his first in colour — a formal departure that underscores its thematic preoccupation with surface, performance, and the unreliability of memory.
Frank Capra’s 1944 adaptation of Joseph Kesselring’s play is a tightly wound black comedy set over one Halloween day in a Brooklyn house where two elderly sisters poison lonely bachelors, their delusional nephew buries the bodies, and their theatre-critic nephew tries to contain the chaos. Starring Cary Grant, Josephine Hull and Raymond Massey, it prioritises rhythmic precision over emotional depth, using studio-era craft to sustain a high-wire act of escalating absurdity.
Pierre Étaix’s 1966 anthology comedy As Long as You’ve Got Your Health presents four self-contained sketches—on insomnia, cinema queues, psychiatric consultation, and forest visits—unified by deadpan timing, restrained performances, and Jean Boffety’s unobtrusive cinematography. Written by Jean-Claude Carrière and edited with surgical calm, it observes urban alienation and bureaucratic fatigue not through satire but through repetition and pause. Its humour is physical, its themes implicit, its pace deliberate.
Big Deal on Madonna Street (1958) is an Italian heist comedy directed by Mario Monicelli, following a group of Rome-based petty criminals attempting—unsuccessfully—to burgle a pawn shop through a shared wall. Shot on location with harsh, naturalistic lighting by Gianni Di Venanzo and scored with restrained jazz by Piero Umiliani, it parodies both neorealist gravity and crime-thriller solemnity by applying their formal rigour to characters who lack the means to succeed. The film’s humour arises from procedural fidelity, not absurdity: every setback follows logically from material constraint, linguistic mismatch or spatial miscalculation. Though nominated for an Academy Award and listed among Italy’s 100 essential films, its appeal lies in its precision, not its polish.
David Lean’s 1945 Blithe Spirit adapts Noël Coward’s stage comedy with formal care and muted energy. Shot in Technicolor by Ronald Neame, it preserves the play’s wit and structure while adding exterior scenes and a controversial new ending. Margaret Rutherford’s Madame Arcati anchors the film, but Rex Harrison and Kay Hammond struggle to translate their stage roles to screen. The film’s strength lies in its textures — domestic detail, vocal rhythm, restrained visual effects — not in narrative drive or emotional revelation. Though commercially disappointing in 1945, it endures as a document of mid-century British craft and constraint.
Bringing Up Baby (1938), directed by Howard Hawks, pairs Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant in a relentless romantic comedy about a paleontologist undone by a scatterbrained heiress and her leopard. Written by Dudley Nichols and Hagar Wilde, it trades emotional exposition for escalating absurdity, using precise performance, tight editing and rhythmic dialogue to sustain a world where logic collapses on cue. Though commercially modest on release, it is now regarded as a pinnacle of screwball form.
Day of the Tentacle is a 1993 LucasArts point-and-click adventure built on the SCUMM engine. It uses time travel as a structural puzzle mechanic, splitting three protagonists across past, present, and future. Players switch between them and move items across eras using Chron-o-Johns or temporal placement. It features voice acting — a LucasArts first — and relies on cause-and-effect logic over reflexes or narrative choice.
Escape from Monkey Island is the fourth Monkey Island game and LucasArts’ final original adventure title. It is a narrative-driven Caribbean island-hopping game built on dialogue, puzzle-solving, and novel input schemes.
Glencore is a vertically integrated commodity trader and miner whose power rests on controlling physical flows — especially zinc and copper — across jurisdictions. It emerged from Marc Rich + Co AG in 1994 after Rich was forced out following a failed zinc market corner. Its structure splits legal registration (Jersey), operational HQ (Baar), and oil-and-gas command (London). It holds no disclosed valuation or margin, but its 2010 market shares — 60% in zinc, 50% in copper — show where its leverage lies: not in brands or code, but in tons moved, stored, and priced across borders.
