Friday Movies: Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead

For the first time in a long time, I came home for lunch after the movies. I didn’t go to Jacques, as usual when I’m doing in Soho – although I did stop in at McNally Forbes to pick up a book for a friend. I could have gone on down Prince Street to the bistro, but I wasn’t really in the mood, so I headed north on Mulberry Street and just caught the Uptown Six. When I got home, I made myself a hot dog – just one. Not all that long ago, I would never make fewer than three hot dogs for lunch. More recently, I contented myself with two. Sometime in August, I decided that one would do.

I suspect that the prospect of sipping on martinis at lunch in a French-style bistro was a powerful draw. I don’t worry that finding myself in a bistro will alter my resolve to avoid hard liquor. But somehow, without the one, the other is no longer so compelling.

Sidney Lumet’s movie, though – now that was compelling.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead.

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