22 June, 2011

Ruminations on Miscellaneous Forgeries

A few bits of information have been knocking around in my head, but I don't think each of them warrants its own individual post right now.

Wine Forgery:
A recent story in The Economist discusses a recent surge in forgeries of astronomically expensive wines, such as 1982 Chateau Lafite, by buying empty bottles and filling them with similar, but less expensive wine. I also came across this subject on a recent episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent, so it must be happening quite frequently. The article equates this to art forgery, and I see the similarity, but since wine is produced for consumption, I relate less readily to victims of wine forgery. I am no wine connoisseur, let alone a wine collector, but it seems to me that wine collecting is a special form of avarice, so I'm not so likely to condemn wine forgers who fake the most expensive wines.

Peter Sellars and Crime:
Last night I watched the 1966 Peter Sellers film, After the Fox, in which a thief/con man pretends to be a film director in order to smuggle millions of dollars of gold bars into Italy. The movie (the real one, not the one the character creates) is rife with racial and cultural stereotypes that contribute to it being not especially good in general, but I enjoyed the premise of pretending that something real is fake. In one scene, the chief of police of the small town in which the phony film will be made is convinced to play a policeman in the film because it "won't be acting," which he couldn't possibly do because he is "not an actor." Sellers' character seems to own no real clothes, but only costumes, and when he is re-imprisoned at the end of the film, it is assumed that he has traded places with the doctor (who happens to be his doppelganger) until he tugs at his false beard and finds that it is, in fact, real. "The wrong man has escaped!" finishes the film, suggesting that the Sellers character himself has lost track of who he actually is. The movie was mostly ridiculous, but really right up my alley.

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