“Charlotte Backson, Countess de la Fère, Milday de Winter,” said he. “your crimes have wearied men on earth and God in heaven. If you know any prayer, say it; for you are condemned, and you shall die.”

    And they lopped off the bitch’s head—fantastic! Although there wasn’t enough detail for it happened out of sight between the end of one chapter and the start of the next—and I had to imagine it. All the exposed pipes and tubes people said were in the neck, spurting blood and chunder, the head bouncing on the ground like a footy…
    The Three Musketeers—I could never figure out how there weren’t four of them—might have disappointed in the gore department but it was just fine in every other way. Of the many movie versions, all of which are terrific, I prefer the one where they used the athletic dancer Gene Kelly as D’artanian, whose fight choreography and stunt-work remains unmatched. It also boasted Van Heflin, Robert Coote and Gig Young as the trio, Vincent Price as the villain and Lana Turner wonderful as M’lady and I didn’t mind Constance getting bumped off at all when she was played by the ghastly June Allyson.