NAME THAT MOVIE!

#2

It's a modern-ish classic and the description of the plot is genuinely accurate, but it's couched in unfamiliar terms.

This movie's poster may...or may not...be included in this montage. If it isn't there, it probably ought to be.

He's tough and he's a loner and he likes it that way. He saves a garrulous ass from the military and finds himself with too much company. Meanwhile a bigwig plans to marry a very hot young lady. Our loner wins a contest and gets a job as a result. He escorts a lady and an unlikely romance blooms. The garrulous ass forges a relationship with a plus-size female. The lady is grabbed by thieves, and there is suspicion of cannibalism. Finally, the truth about about the lady's night life is revealed so that we can enjoy a happy ending.

Here are a few things I didn’t learn when I should have. 

1.  How to use chopsticks.

But, I mean…when I was a kid we once had canned chop suey, didn’t like it and never had it again. My first actual Chinese food came my way on a lunch break from rehearsal when I was 24 years old.

2. How to use the “speeds” on a bicycle

My only bike when I was a kid was a “cruiser”. No gears, pedal brakes. When I first hopped on a 10-speed with handlebar brakes I was lost. Lucky I didn’t kill myself.

3. How to tie the waistband in sweatpants so they don’t fall down.

I didn’t often wear sweatpants when I was a kid and when I did first wear them, the pants had an elastic waistband, no tying required. My first tie-up sweats were a constant threat to my modesty.

And the thing is…I still don’t know how to do any of those things. And yet I have somehow survived 75 years. Ignorance may or may not be bliss, but it seems to somehow be consistent with survival. So that’s awright.

A good while back, maybe three or four years ago…shoot, maybe five or six years ago, who knows?...I saw an old interview with actor Lee Marvin. It was interesting and I thought, I’d like to know more. 

So I went online and found that there was a biography available titled simply “MARVIN”. A copy was available on Amazon from some independent seller. He or She had one copy, used. And that was all I could find. The asking price was not unreasonable, but was more than I felt like paying at the time. I think it was somewhere between 20 and 30 dollars. So I plunked it into my “Saved for Later” section and hoped either the price would go down or I would win the lottery.

And it stayed there all these however many years. The price did fluctuate, however. Boy, did it ever. After spending a while in the $70-100 range, it started moving up. Way up. Every time I looked the price was in the $200-400 range. Way too steep for me, but I left it there, mostly just to watch the numbers joggle. A few months ago it really hit the heights. The price was approximately $750. “Wow,” I thought, “this must be really rare.”

It didn’t stay at those heights for long, but dropping to the $300-400 range didn’t make it any likelier that I’d buy it.

A few weeks ago, I was surprised to find it had dropped to something near the $100 price. It hovered there for a couple of weeks.

Then the day, about two weeks ago, when I checked in and Amazon told me the price had dropped from $98 to $4.20. That’s four dollars and twenty cents. 

I figured it had to be a mistake. I even checked the book page itself and indeed it read $4.20. So I immediately plunked it in my cart and ordered it, figuring all the while that something would pop up at the last minute “Price has risen to $257.89”  But it didn’t. 

My email from Amazon said I’d paid $4.20 and the book would soon be on its way. 

As of now, delivery is supposed to occur sometime next week. I feel like I’ve gotten away with grand larceny. And I can only think of the guy selling the book. He had hopes of getting the down payment on a new car, and now he’ll be lucky to afford a couple of candy bars. Maybe only one and a half.

 NAME THAT MOVIE

BELOW YOU WILL FIND A PLOT DESCRIPTION OF A FAMOUS MOVIE. THE DESCRIPTION IS ACCURATE BUT IS COUCHED IN UNEXPECTED WORDS. SO NAME THAT MOVIE!

Entrepreneurs set up a risky new business venture. It's slow-going at first and there's trouble among the books, but a difficult job garners some good publicity and business picks up. One of the entrepreneurs falls for a client who leads them into an affair concerning an accountant, appliance problems, and a damaged edifice. The client turns on them and ultimately they must save many many people from an imminent food crisis.

A bitterly cold night in Denver. 

1977.   DAMN YANKEES.

Dinner theater--unless it’s Simpsonville, Kentucky-- also means drinking theater. Sometimes people over-indulge.

Like this night. Early on we heard loud, overly-raucous laughter and blaring voices. No understandable words. Nothing to throw off the show.

Then, “Whatever Lola Wants.” Just me and Isabelle Farrell onstage. Isabelle was cute, talented and, as required for Lola, pretty hot. 

Isabelle sheds some costuming and wiggles into the number. And a drunk makes himself heard. “O0h-ooh, baby!” LOUD!  Then more which I can’t remember, mostly unintelligible. 

By now he was YELLING whatever he was yelling, following each comment with an ugly bray of laughter. Audience members started “shhh-shing.” We plowed on with the number. 

Through the whole scene he yelled, he laughed, the number--usually a highlight-- died utterly. Lights out. Isabelle and I were furious. 

I’ve never been given to anger. Fewer than five times in my long life have I expressed public anger. This was the worst. I could barely speak for the rage. 

At intermission all backstage discussion concerned the drunk. I was too angry to join the talk. 

Then I had an ugly, wonderful thought. Creeping out to the lobby, I stood behind a curtain, peering at audience members milling about, prior to re-seating themselves for the next act. 

I wanted the drunk. I wanted to beat him soundly. Convince him to go home. Or to the Emergency Room, if need be.

     But the lobby emptied, the show restarted and no sign of the guy. I stood in the empty lobby, steaming. Glancing out the front doors I saw the drunk being loaded into a car by his friends. I started to run outside, but the car was already moving. The drunk had escaped my awesome, hellish anger, an anger now compounded by frustration.

I finished the show, hoping my fury was hidden under my performance.

The show was over and I was still angry. Teeth-grittingly, fist-clenchingly, murderously angry. 

We loaded into the van for the drive to our downtown hotel. There was a young lady in the show with whom I’d gone out a few times. We had been casually “keeping company,” to resurrect an old phrase. So I sat by her, as usual. She tried to make conversation, but I was in no mood.  The frustration at not being able to beat the drunk to a soggy mass had multiplied my anger. I was in a blind, overheated rage. My young lady slid as far away from me as possible. It would take several days of cringing apology to get back in her good graces.

Later I was told I’d been cursing non-stop, and saying, “I want to kill him!” I don’t recall saying that, but it feels right.

At the hotel, I hopped out of the van and started walking. I had another bright idea. I headed for a part of downtown we’d been warned to avoid. I was going to walk until somebody tried to mug or abuse me. That person would be my substitute for the drunk and it was going to be the worst day of his life.

You’re thinking, “this sounds like a bad idea.” I agree. For one thing, I’d never been in a fight in my life. But mine was not a rational mind that night.

I stalked through that frigid night, praying for an attempted mugging, walking down gray, icy streets for a solid hour. Only when I finally felt the deep cold did I know my anger had abated. I turned around and hurried toward the hotel, thinking, “Boy…I hope I don’t get mugged.”

Here find a few li'l tidbits which I found interesting but which were too brief to stand alone.

1. Even the best of sword fights on screen (DUNE 2, TROY for two recently watched) always features one wild blade swing about a foot above the opponent’s head.

2. I recently watched a guy on YouTube discussing a book. He thought the story had good possibilities as “a movie or streaming service adaptation.”  Movie or streaming service adaptation?  As if they are two different things? Or are they in fact, two separate things now?

3. Those of us who were there in ‘77 (or really anytime before the end of the millennium) know Darth Vader when we see him. He’s a super-villain and his name is Darth Vader. 

But I just noticed from watching some YouTube “reactors” that those who, sadly, grew up on the prequels call him “Anakin.”

I guess it’s the same thing regarding the title of the first movie. To me and many others, it’s always just STAR WARS. That “NEW HOPE” thing is merely rumor. 

4. Art Garfunkel's first solo album, ANGEL CLARE, is one of my favorite albums ever. Back in the early ‘70s I played it constantly. Only now though do I learn where the album’s title comes from.  I’m currently reading Thomas Hardy’s TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES and I’m tickled to find that one of the novel’s major characters is named “Angel Clare.”  Maybe even more surprising is that it’s a male character.     

5. There’s a big laugh in the movie HOT FUZZ when, at the conclusion of a terrible performance of ROMEO AND JULIET, the entire cast of the play starts singing and dancing to close out the evening, as the audience reacts in shock. It is a very funny moment.

But… the stage business is not historically inaccurate. In the Elizabethan theater, a play, however serious, did end with the cast performing a jolly jig onstage. The famous “clown” in Shakespeare’s troupe, Will Kempe, was famous for his jigs and it would have been expected, even after a tragedy.

Apparently, this tradition died out about the same time Queen Elizabeth did. Will Kempe left the company and Shakespeare --we believe--managed to get his new play (something called HAMLET) performed jig-free.

5. The first two films in which Dustin Hoffman worked were THE TIGER MAKES OUT (a tiny one-scene role) and MADIGAN’S MILLIONS (a terrible cheapjack thing). Essentially no one saw either of them. 

His first two BIG movies, successful and famous, were very big indeed. And, here’s the oddity. They both end with a scene on a bus. 

Old age and too many doctor’s appointments have found me taking beaucoup taxi rides around Manhattan, and I’ve seen some sights that were worth seeing.

I was surprised to find a shoeshine stand in front of Grand Central Station. I had assumed that shoeshine stands had gone the way of buggy whips, but…nope.

This reminded me of a Streets-of-New-York episode I witnessed back in the ‘90s.

I was walking east on 42nd Street, just about to reach 8th Avenue when I slowed my walk. Two elderly African-American guys seemed to be involved in a very heated dispute. They were just in front of the shoeshine stand which had been there for years. One of them I recognized as the shoeshine guy himself. The other wore a bright orange jumpsuit emblazoned with the logo of the Times Square Redevelopment thing. Both appeared to be around 70.

Shoeshine guy held a shoe brush in his hand and was waving and pointing with it as if it was a saber. Jumpsuit guy had a streetsweeper broom in his hand, wielding it like a spear. The guys were leaning into each other, their faces no more than a foot apart, and they were furious. Eyes were bulging, teeth bared, facial muscles clenched. And they were yelling.

Stuff like this…

Shoeshine:  I’m tellin’ you he didn’t!

Jumpsuit: I know damn well he did!

Shoeshine: No, he didn’t and I know it.

Jumpsuit: You know it?!?! I’m the one who knows it.

Shoeshine: You don’t know nuthin’! You’re just dumb!

Jumpsuit: You dummy! You callin’ me dumb?

Shoeshine:  I know what I know and I know he didn’t kill her!

Jumpsuit: You only know shit. He did kill her, he did, and everybody knows it.

Shoeshine:  He didn’t kill her! He didn’t! He killed everybody else but not her!

Jumpsuit:  Hey, you want me to prove it? I’ll show you some proof!

At this point, Jumpsuit leaned back and reached for his pants pocket.

Jumpsuit: I’ll show you right now!

He was grabbing for something in his pocket and I backed off, fearing a pistol was about to appear. Instead, Jumpsuit pulled a book from his pocket. A small red book which I quickly recognized as a pocket Bible. Jumpsuit started feverishly flipping through the pages. 

Jumpsuit: I’ll show you! God killed Job’s wife and I know it!

At this point, I figured this surprising theological debate wasn’t that dangerous after all and I moved on.

On a different taxi trip I spotted this on 9th Avenue…

…and was reminded of Nelson Algren’s Rules of Life. 

     1. Never play cards with a man called Doc.

         2.   Never eat at a place called Mom’s.

         3.   Never sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than your own.

In my life experience…well…I’ve never played cards with a guy called Doc. So I got that goin’ for me.

        

1978. When FINIAN’S RAINBOW transferred to Louisville from Denver I replaced the Coloradan who had played the sheriff out west. Couple of nice scenes, and one rehearsal to fit me in.

My first performance, first scene, I got a nice laugh as I’d hoped. But the other actor in the scene plowed ahead and covered my laugh. I was shocked. You don’t walk over a laugh, every actor knows that. The scene went on and I got another laugh. Again, the guy stomped all over it and went on with his lines. I wasn’t happy. Those were my laughs. I earned them, I WANTED THEM!!

Later that actor sought me out and apologized. “The guy in Denver,” he said, “never got laughs. I didn’t even know there could be laughs there.” Well…Okay then…I preened and puffed up at that and magnanimously forgave the chap.

Day or two later. Since it was an in-the-round theater, getting to front-of-the-house entrances required a journey: backstage into the bar, through the bar to the lobby, across the lobby to the top of the aisle, down the aisle, and onto the stage.

I made that journey for a scene in which I would lead the entire ensemble onstage, as they yelled adlibs at me and I adlibbed back.

Always early for entrances, I was first to arrive. Then a young lady showed up, the first of the ensemble. Then… then…uhhh…

Then nothing. No mob. I looked across the lobby toward where they’d be coming from. Nobody.

Maybe I was confused. Maybe I’d mistaken which scene this was. After all, it was only my second or third performance. So I asked the girl. “Is this the scene where we all go on together?” She said, “yes, it is.” 

    “Well,” I asked, “where are they?” She shrugged, “I don’t know.” We both looked across the lobby. Still nobody. 

Almost time to go onstage. Maybe 5 seconds till the cue. I said to the girl, “we’re gonna have to do this ourselves.” She nodded. The poor little thing looked terrified. I would just be playing my role, while she would be covering for a dozen missing people.

And … the cue. We head down the aisle, me saying “I got a job to do..”  and such.  My one-woman mob was squeaking “Sheriff…don’t do it…” and such. She could barely be heard, and I didn’t blame her. 

The actors onstage waiting for us were clearly confused by this meager mob. Maybe ten seconds into the scene we could hear --from Saskatchewan by the sound of it-- our lost crowd. They were shouting their adlibs from far far away. Eventually they appeared, running down the aisle at top speed. And the show went on.

How did this happen? I did ask. 

             Everyone had started on time for their entrance but then they sat down in the bar and began chat-chat-chatting and just…you know…missed it. All of them.

Over the decades I saw many missed entrances. It happens. But it happens with one single actor. Not with a 12-person ensemble. This was the only mass missed entrance of my career. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that it was the only mass missed entrance in theatrical history. 

It’s so weird that I’m kind of glad I experienced it…….. Once.