Night after Night

Having achieved everything he could have hoped for from his prestigious local nightclub, a determined renaissance gangster seeks to improve his diction and grammar (George Raft as Joe Anton).

He's had enough of the high-life and wants to sell and settle-down, while perhaps impressing an elegant socialite who frequents his club from time to time (Constance Cummings as Miss Jerry Healy). 

His headstrong critical MC presents well-reasoned practical counterpoints (Roscoe Karns as Leo), with ambitious crafty reckoning which seeks not to retire.

He's rather down to earth and not inclined to embrace change, unless it corresponds to how he's been duly raised.

Trouble comes a' brewin' a potential clash with a rival gang, if they decide to stay in business they'll have to find ways to paunch and placate.

While light of heart romantic daydreaming keeps the mood upbeat and comic, as if nothing could ever go wrong while everything crashes down around them.

The fair-minded touch and ironic innocence distinguishes Night after Night from Godfather III, and many other gangster films which recklessly embrace chaotic pedagogy.

Perhaps love can win out in the end as competing interests jive and juke, the daring couple courageously coaxing wholesome pasteurized down home subsistence.

It's easy to suddenly give up what you never had in the first place, but how do you switch from constant activity to a much more sedate way of life?

In your athletic prime at the communal heights of your insurgence, how do you leave everything behind to emphatically embrace holistic chillin'?

The pandemic gave a crash course in blatant dull nerve-racking meaninglessness, where the majority of the world had to embrace stasis like a misanthropic maelstrom.

Day after day distressing thoughts intensifying this could go on forever, bleak things were as they found a way to mischievously finagle mass conjecture.

Hopefully, while embracing lockdown many people adopted Mr. Raft's approach, and took the time to learn new things while creating song and tech and recipes.

Perhaps he was able to change and learn the rudiments of discursive intrigue, he certainly would have had a tale to tell ala Dashiell Hammett or even Joseph Conrad.

Perhaps she would have eased him through the difficult humbling light transition, with patience and resilient accord free-flowing effervescent livelihood.

The secret's to have animal sightings and to never indeed grow tired of them (I never will).

Perhaps even buying a dog or cat.

If possible, heading out on safari.