2 is Hard Day's Night.

#1 is one of the big vampire movies, either Nosferatu or Dracula. I'll pick the silent Nosferatu because I think I read it rather than heard it.

I suggest this is done as a background task and I'll publish the answers in about a week, unless someone wants me to PM them sooner.

I Love Stephen Fry.

Here's a quick read. I know I've left a lot out. I'll go back to working on it more later. Only three paragraphs:

Call me indiscreet, but I wake up screaming and breathless when I think of how this deranged bedlam teeters on the edge of sanity: pet parfumeries, bra museums, outdoor air-conditioning, a wedding for dogs, all done without a trace of irony, by the beautiful people of this over the top - heaven.

When the adventurers of the past, the gold diggers, first decided to go west to the promised land, the general idea was to find the mother lode. Things change: the descendants of these explorers still share this frantic - greed, but it has turned into an indecent obsession with the mirage of fame. They are given over to it hearts and mind, body and soul, flesh and blood. Los Angeles is not of this earth; it's a boom town for dreams that money can buy. Everyone believes with the burning frenzy of the moonstruck that they too can make a splash and become a giant legend, if only fortune deigns to smile. The conversation you pick up from the star struck lounge lizard and the beguiled barfly always revolves around hitting the big time or the struggle of keeping up the desperate mask of pretence that they have already jumped on the bandwagon of easy money and easy living. Family life, security, every normal impulse is sacrificed one by one in this ruthless quest for miracles.

It's not a safe place; the crazies and ruthless people who run it show no mercy, they hire and fire with caprice and in cold blood. They hold nothing sacred but the sweet smell of success. The verdict of future generations will probably be harsh. I could go on singing the dispraises of Los Angeles for ever, but I'm on dangerous ground because, bananas as it may sound, I love this magic town.

Continuing Syd's post:

From [b]sunrise[/b] to sunset the blue skies shelter people carefree, rich and famous, or at least rich and strange; they shelter scenes of notorious wealth and power, interiors and estates where even the gardeners wear livery. But the awful truth is that there is a different story, for the sun also rises on ordinary people, on the misfits scarred by poverty; on loveless, violent streets and on the men and the women who find themselves cornered like the rats they are treated as. They are the outsiders, missing out on the real glory.