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.   

Fifty Years Ago Today

Fifty years ago today was Friday, April 4, 1975 … dunno whatever came of them, but on this day Microsoft (whatever that is) was founded by Bill Gates and Paul Allen…Pamela Ribon was born. She would become a TV, movie, and video game writer and producer. She has writing credits for such animated fantasies as MOANA, RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET, and SMURFS: THE LOST VILLAGE. It astounds me that I’ve actually seen two of those…The first military Operation Babylift flight crashed 27 minutes after takeoff, killing 144 of the 305 people on board, including 78 of the 243 children. Two cargo doors blew off of the jet, largest in the world at the time, as it reached 23,000 feet during the evacuation of civilians in the closing days of the Vietnam War…

On the CBS Friday Movie that night was THE OTHER. Oooh, spooky.

And some of the other available TV offerings that night:

Personally, I am confused. Just as in my last entry about VAMPYRES, I saw today’s movie in Louisville, but I was working at the time in Indianapolis. Just to make sure I was right about that, I checked my records and newspapers of the day in both cities and…yeah. I saw the movie in Louisville, but my show was running that day in Indianapolis. Unfortunately I wouldn’t start keeping a daybook till the next year. Too bad. On those pages I would have noted where I was and why. Best I can guess, as with VAMPYRES, is that this day’s performance was cancelled and I went home for the day. Unlikely, yes, but possible. And I got nuthin’ better.

Today--in Louisville!--I saw SILENT NIGHT, BLOODY NIGHT. 

It was advertised locally as SILENT NIGHT, NIGHT OF TERROR, probably because the movie had stirred up some stink when released, even getting itself banned in some places. I just recently read the book A SCARY LITTLE CHRISTMAS, all about Christmas horror movies, a trend which started with, yes, SILENT NIGHT, BLOODY NIGHT.

My memories of that first viewing are almost zilch. I recall, I think, a kind of cheap, poorly photographed…something. And that’s it. If, that is, I’m remembering the right movie. I’ve seen SILENT NIGHT, BLOODY NIGHT and SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT, and SILENT NIGHT, EVIL NIGHT (better known as BLACK CHRISTMAS), plus a flotilla of sequels. Thus, I’m not entirely, utterly sure which movie this is.

So definitely time to watch it again.

-----------------------------------------------------

First frame, there’s Mary Woronov. Now I know for sure which movie this is. I remember her. 

Ah, they’re trying to trip me up. This one has been retitled, rather clumsily, as DEATHHOUSE. Nah, they can’t fool me.

Here’s a scene with some old folks sitting around a table and one of them is John Carradine. I remember this scene.--not what the scene was about, just the set-up and how it looked.

Carradine plays an almost mute character, thereby wasting what was arguably his greatest asset--his voice. He rings a little bell rather than speaking. He does have one brief line, spoken off-camera in a gritty, raspy whisper. And I’d bet $200 that it’s not even Long John’s voice.

Our secondary leading lady is an astonishingly beautiful young woman name of Astrid Heeren. She is MUCH younger than her paramour, played by Patrick O’Neal. But that’s show biz, right?

I will say that with O’Neal, James Patterson, Carradine, Water Abel and Mary Woronov we have a pretty solid cast, with the beautiful lady the cherry on the top.

Though it doesn’t feel like giallo at any moment, the faceless villain, black gloves, roving camera, and first person p.o.v. obviously remind one of giallo.

Somebody has dredged hard into the PSYCHO playbook.

Never occurred to me before, but James Patterson (not the wretched writer, but the decent actor) looks just a whole damn lot like a late friend of mine.

Woronov plays one of the most cautious, sensible characters I ever remember seeing in a horror film.  No way this lady would venture into the basement of a haunted house checking out weird noises.

Hey, Sheriff! Wearing sunglasses while traipsing around in the dark with a flashlight might be counterproductive.

Oh, I see -- a couple of scenes later, the sunglasses are found by others, letting us know the sheriff, he ain’t doin’ so good.

I once read that the most-used line in movie history is “Let’s get out of here.”  Might be, since Woronov says it twice in about 15 seconds.

Hmmm. In addition to the questionable Carradine voice, at least one line each of Woronov and Patterson is obviously post-dubbed and, apparently, by other people. Makes me think there might have been a major attempt to “save it in post.”

Unfortunately, after about an hour of surprisingly decent horror movie, it goes off the rails just a bit in the ending, reaching too much for ‘art’. 

But, decent cast, non-embarrassing script, some clever direction, serviceable photography add up to something better than expected 

What? How was the music, you ask? You’re asking the wrong guy. I don’t notice music and, though I just finished watching it about 10 minutes ago, I couldn’t tell you if there was any music at all.

FIFTY YEARS AGO TODAY

Fifty Years Ago Today was Sunday, March 30, 1975…Easter Sunday, but it would have made little to no difference to me. I hadn’t been a churchgoer for the most current half of my life and was too old for Easter baskets and egg hunts. Might have indulged in some chocolate however, because--chocolate… On this holy day, a man named James Rupert in Hamilton, Ohio, killed 11 members of his family… Just yesterday, the 29th, Da Nang, Vietnam had fallen to North Vietnamese forces and everybody knew for sure that that terrible war was in its final stages…Top song in the U.S. was “Lovin’ You” by Minnie Riperton…

loving you minnie riperton

1975 was the year of my career in which I was least-employed as an actor. Early in the year, I had a dinner theater job which ran about 15 weeks, about 3 weeks shorter than projected. Then, deep in the summer, I had a gig which only lasted a couple of weeks and for which, because of some shenanigans in which I took part, I wasn’t paid. Finally, another paying job started the day after Christmas. And that was it for 1975. That was the last year in which I spent more time working for my dad than I did as an actor. Starting in ‘76, I would be much much busier almost all the time.

On this date I was working in that early-in-the-year show (A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM) in Indianapolis.

Somehow, I managed, however, to see today’s movie in a Louisville theater. I don’t remember how that worked. Either I drove home immediately after the day’s performance and went straight to the movies, or else that Sunday performance was cancelled. Either is a viable possibility.

At any rate, I did go to the Penthouse Theater on 4th Street in Louisville to see what was, I think, my first X-rated horror film. The movie was VAMPYRES.

In recent days, particularly on the Classic Horror Film Board, I’ve noticed lots of Monster Kids voicing approval for this movie. I couldn't agree, thinking it much more softcore sex than horror. Oh, sure vampires and blood, but most of all, a couple of gorgeous women who seem to be allergic to clothing.

I’ll readily admit that all-American, straight, 25-year-old me appreciated the sight of these unclothed lovelies, but that didn’t make it a good film.

The main specific memory I have of my initial reaction to this skinflick was that the young blonde “Vampyre” was gorgeous and that the older brunette was…matronly. In my twenties I was evidently somewhat immune to the charms of older women. In my seventies, I expect I’ll view the older brunette as a very attractive and--from my current vantage point --very young beauty.

Let’s see.  Roll ‘em…

-----------------------------------------------------------

No wasting time here. Right off the bat, even before the credits, we see a brightly lit scene of two stark naked ladies lesbianing to beat the band.

Then the credits, then some not very good acting from an elderly character man.

So far, about 25 minutes in, there’s some too-slow suspense, some overlit mystery, and some blunt softcore sex, just with better actors than in standard softcore fare.

These are daylight-strolling vampires, though, since it is England after all, not exactly sunlight vampires.

The ladies are pleasantly mismatched. One is a dark, fleshy, earth mother sort while the other is fair, slim, almost gamine. If the dark lady couldn’t quite pass as the mother of the blonde, she at least could be her considerably older sister.

They have a curious response to daylight. A curious, varying response, it seems. They seem to stroll easily enough during the day, but then when the sun rises on a new day, there’s a sudden urgency on their part to get away.

No fangs for these bloodsuckers, though one of them does manage a neck bite anyway.

So that was that. That was VAMPYRES. I wasn’t exactly right. It’s not just softcore schlock. It’s just almost just softcore schlock. There is an attempt at some horror film stuff, but it’s pretty meek, if occasionally bloody. 

In final analysis, the selling points of this film are the two naked ladies. Apart from that, this is a little muddled and it simply ain’t much.

IT’S OPENING DAY!!

Yeah, yeah, sure, the major league season got under way in Tokyo about 10 days ago, but I’m telling you--THAT WAS NOT OPENING DAY!  

I’m all for international involvement in the great game, and I recognize the problems of travel, jetlag, schedule and so on. Still--THAT WAS NOT OPENING DAY.

Today--TODAY-- when Major League teams compete, for realsies, in Major League ballparks, THIS is Opening Day.

Once upon a time every Major League Baseball season opened in Cincinnati, Ohio. This honor was accorded to the Reds because they had been the first professional baseball team way back in 1869. So when a new season rolled around, the Reds would play an afternoon game on Opening Day while all the other teams waited till the next day, or, occasionally, till later that same evening. It’s not this way anymore. Nowadays, every team plows in on Opening Day. This stolen honor from the Reds is not the only charming tradition which has wilted under Baseball’s line drive toward corporate uniformity. 

The latest sign of this, and a sure omen of the Final Days, is that teams have taken to wearing corporate logos on their uniforms.  The Reds now wear a Kroger patch on the sleeve of their beautiful, simple, red and white uniforms. That’s Kroger. 

I have no doubt that, within just a few years, major leaguers will dress like Nascar drivers or snooker stars, festooned with a raft of advertising blotches, their team colors barely peeking through.

With that in mind, let’s raise a faint cheer for Fenway Park, Yankee Stadium, Dodger Stadium, Orioles Park at Camden Yards, Angel Stadium, and Nationals Park. Parks whose “naming rights” have not been auctioned to the highest corporate bidder. (Others such as Wrigley Field, Kauffman Stadium, and maybe Busch Stadium straddle the middle ground.) 

The biggest part of the problem with this is the sheer, slimy, too-American greed of it. A lesser, but almost funny problem is the temporary nature of these designations. The poster boy for the fleeting nature of names is surely the Houston Astros. Their current stadium opened in 2000 and this year collects its fourth name in those 25 years.

But I don’t want to just be an old fogey about it (“Why, back in MY day…”) So let’s move along.

Fortunately, I was able to attend three of the old Reds’ openers …1976, 1981, and 1982. I can guarantee ya, those Opening Days were a big deal. Parades and parties, kids playing hooky, TV specials, and a ballpark near to bustin’. It was great.

But it’s the ‘81 opener which I remember today, now that I’ve gotten past the history and the grousing. It was the last year when you could say, without terrible exaggeration, that it was The Big Red Machine out on the field. Tony Perez was gone. Joe Morgan too. No sign of Cesar Geronimo. Pete Rose was there, but in the wrong dugout. He was now playing first base for the Phillies, that day’s opponent. But Ken Griffey was still a Red and Dave Concepcion and Dan Driessen. George Foster still present and, best of all, the great Johnny Bench still behind the plate.

The pitching that day was a Clash of the Titans. For the Reds, Tom Seaver. For the Phillies, Steve Carlton. It doesn’t get much better than that. Matter of fact, it was the first time in MLB history that two three-time Cy Young Award winners faced each other.

It wasn’t a classic duel, however. Seaver was excellent, only allowing two singles through seven innings, then yielding a double and a run in the 8th. He struck out four in eight innings.

Carlton also gave up only one run in 7 innings but he allowed nine hits and was wild, walking four and throwing three wild pitches. Tom Hume finished for the Reds and got the win. Sparky Lyle gave up a pair of runs in the 8th and was the loser.

Interesting note: Pete Rose led off with a single on the first pitch of the game…first pitch of the SEASON… and was thrown out trying to steal on the second pitch of the season.

But FINALLY, we come to the incident which inspired this saga. Third inning--Johnny Bench comes to the plate with a runner on second and two out. As the greatest catcher of all time settled into the box, I heard the two fans behind me--two guys in their mid-twenties, I’d guess--talking baseball. One of them says, “It’s Bench. He’s due!” The other guy says, “yeah, he’s due!” Now, I remind you that this was Bench’s second at-bat of the entire season. He had struck out in the first inning, making him 0-for-the year, so, of course, on his second turn at bat in the 1981 season, he’s “due”.

I desperately wanted to turn around and confront these two geniuses. I wanted to remind them of the reality of the situation. I wanted to advise them to take more care with their analysis. I wanted to tell them both that they were morons and I was surprised to find them in public without a keeper.

But I didn’t. I sat, watching the game, shaking my head, remembering how many times I’d heard Marty and Joe on the radio telling us that the Reds’ fans were the smartest and most knowledgeable in all of baseball. It would be a few more years before I learned that all fan bases--or at least their announcers--laid claim to that same baseball distinction. 

For the record, Johnny Bench took a base on balls in that third inning of the first game of the 1981 baseball season. I don’t know if a walk satisfies the criteria of “due” or not.       

But that was then, this is now. And now is Opening Day, the most optimistic day of the year.  So ....

“Wait’ll THIS year!!”