Brian’s Song

Brian’s Song
YouTube viewing

These are the facts in the brief career of pro football star Brian Piccolo: he was college football’s leading rusher in 1964 at Wake Forest, and was named the Atlantic Coast Conference Player of the Year, finishing tenth in the Heisman Trophy balloting.

He was signed by the Chicago Bears as a free agent, after both the NFL and the AFL passed on drafting him. In 1968, the year in which teammate and former Rookie of the Year Gale Sayers injured his knee, Piccolo ran for 450 yards, had 291 yards receiving, and two touchdowns.

In 1969 Piccolo was diagnosed with embryonal cell carcinoma, and underwent surgery twice. He died June 16, 1970 at the age of 26, leaving behind a wife and three daughters.

Those are the facts... but the facts only tell you so much.

Baseball

Baseball
seen online @ PBS.com

These past few weeks have been a trial for me, as I imagine they have been for you and everyone else, and the light at the end of the tunnel is still far off in the distance. This blog didn’t feel all that important for awhile... but seeing other people adjust to the current change in the status quo, and using technology to do it (this has been a pleasant discovery, for example), has been comforting, and I feel ready to get back on the horse with WSW, at least for now. Here’s hoping you and yours are safe and well during this tumultuous period.

Among the many things we’ll have to do without for awhile include sports in general, and baseball in particular. Major league ballparks across North America are currently silent when they should be loud and raucous right now—and because of that, documentarian Ken Burns recently petitioned PBS to rebroadcast on their website his original nine-part (now ten-part) miniseries Baseball. I watched the whole thing when PBS first broadcast it back in 1994, and seeing it again brought back pleasant memories.

Links out

I announced it on Twitter and perhaps you’ve already noticed the change here, but for the record: WSW now moderates comments. This is a change I had thought about doing before, but I didn’t believe it was truly necessary until the spammers started getting bolder. I don’t want this; we’ve gone this far without needing to moderate comments, but I believe it’s better this way, at least for now. You (and you know who you are) have always provided insight and wit to go along with my posts. You’re not the problem and never were.

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My third 5K run turned out well, but it didn’t feel that way. I beat my personal best time by perhaps three minutes, but the whole run felt tougher than usual. It was windy, but not gusty, the sky was mostly cloudy, and there was no hint of rain or snow. I just felt like the whole thing was a harder push than usual, like I was pushing harder than before. I slowed to a walking pace a lot, and I had to remind myself to not get comfortable. And once again, the presence of so many other people changed my mental approach, making me think of the competition instead of my own game... but I still set a personal record. I did something right.

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Last month Virginia and I went to an unusual twin bill of Georges Melies films: A Trip to the Moon and Kingdom of the Fairies. Both silents were accompanied by original live scores by composer Kyle Simpson and his chamber orchestra, held at The Dimenna Center for Classical Music in Manhattan. A university professor, musician and conductor, as well as a composer, he briefly talked of his love for film in general and how with this project, he sought to create scores that would match the story and themes of these movies, and I thought he did. His scores made both films feel almost contemporary. In addition to the movies, there was an “undercard” of film scores by Phillip Glass and Alexander Borodin, performed by the Red Line String Quartet. I’ve always liked Glass’ music. I’ve seen it performed live before, but not like this. It felt different, yet recognizable as his work. Virginia loved the whole thing, of course.

Links on the other side.

Five 5K runs inspired by movies

To be honest, running, for me, is not the transcendental experience it is for some. I jog up and down a small, three-block side street adjacent to my apartment building. I’ve done it in warm weather and now, Zod help me, I’m doing it in cold weather too. It’s lonely, grueling work. Every weekday it’s an effort to push myself to keep going, to keep my legs and feet in motion when all I’d rather do is stay in bed.

I don’t trust my feet. I’ve fallen more than once, not due to poor ankles or weak bones or anything like that, but just because. Falling has always been a fear of mine, and a part of me can’t help but think something is out on the pavement waiting to trip me up, no matter how smooth it may seem.

And yet I still run. Virginia is one reason why, as she is for so many things I do these days: she’s not a runner, but her own ongoing struggle to keep the weight off inspires me—and hell, I wanna look good for her. Why not? I also remember the health problems I had that landed me in the hospital only three years ago, and I do not want to experience them again. I’ve joined a Facebook running group, and seeing other people go from being large and round to leaner and fitter, really makes me think it’s possible for me too.

But I gotta run a lot.

The Battered Bastards of Baseball

The Battered Bastards of Baseball
Netflix viewing

I’ve seen quite a bit of minor league baseball, maybe as much as major league ball. Here in New York we have at least three minor league teams I know of, such as the Brooklyn Cyclones, who play in Coney Island, right on the boardwalk next door to the amusement park. Last year I took Virginia to a game. When I lived in Columbus, we had the Clippers, and I saw games both in their old stadium and in their newer one, closer to the downtown. I’ve seen games in other towns, too.

From a fan’s perspective, the game looks the same. The fastballs aren’t as fast, and the home runs not as big, but it still takes three strikes to get a batter out and three outs to end an inning. The big difference might be in the entertainment factor. The minor league teams work overtime to please the crowds with between-inning games, mascots, promotions, even cheerleaders. I was about to say they do it to a greater degree than the majors, but it’s been so long since I’ve been to a major league game I can’t judge.

When a labor strike cancelled the World Series in 1994, it shattered my faith in baseball for a long time, but I couldn’t stay detached from it forever. The minors, though I didn’t necessarily look at them this way at first, seemed like a reasonable compromise: a way for me to enjoy the game I loved as a kid without thinking about the things that ruined the game at the major league level for me: labor disputes, steroids and other drugs, contract negotiations. I know the minors aren’t immune to such things, but at least they’re less magnified. If a Cyclone star player doesn’t report to training camp, it doesn’t make the back page of the Daily News.

Five films about the 1969 Mets (sort of)

This weekend, members of the 1969 World Champion Miracle Mets team will gather at Citi Field here in Queens, for what may be the last time in such a formal setting, to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the summer they accomplished what many thought was not only improbable, but just plain impossible.

In 1969, the Mets were an expansion team not even a decade old that had known nothing but futility for their entire baseball life — and I mean epic futility. In 1962, their first year, they lost 120 games, and were only marginally better in subsequent years. Still, they had a lovable charm to them that New York embraced. Then they acquired some legitimate talent, as well as a manager who refused to tolerate losing, and dreamt of becoming a contender, but no one expected the leap forward they made in that summer when men walked on the moon and anything seemed possible.

Rawhide (1938)

The Made in 1938 Blogathon is exactly what it says on the tin, hosted by In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood and Pop Culture Reverie. For a complete list of participating blogs visit the links at the host sites.

Rawhide (1938)
YouTube viewing

The numbers tell the story of Lou Gehrig, and what a tale they tell: 17 seasons, all with the New York Y-nk--s; lifetime batting average of .340; a seven-time all-star; two-time MVP winner; three-time league leader in home runs; five-time league leader in runs batted in; a Triple Crown winner and owner of six World Series rings.

Plus the most important number of all: 2,130. That's how many consecutive games he played, folks: the equivalent of almost six calendar years without a day off. Though it's no longer a record, it's still a monumental achievement.

His premature death at age 37 raised awareness of the rare condition that took his life, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, to the point where the disease now bears his name. And perhaps you've heard of the film they made about him.

But did you know he himself once co-starred in a Hollywood movie?

Top 5 movie-going moments of 2018

I didn't go to the movies as much this year; partly because I had spent more time doing other things, with new people, and partly because the theaters are going away, little by little. Still, there were some highlights.

Heaven Can Wait (1978)

The James Mason Blogathon is an event celebrating the life and career of the actor, hosted by Maddy Loves Her Classic Films. For a complete list of participating blogs, visit the link at the host site.

Heaven Can Wait (1978)
YouTube viewing

Warren Beatty's Heaven Can Wait has nothing to do with the Don Ameche film of the same name; rather, it's a remake of the Robert Montgomery film Here Comes Mr. Jordan, which must have been a little confusing when it came out in 1978, but whatever. (In 2001, Chris Rock starred in a third version, Down to Earth.)

I wasn't fond of Jordan, not necessarily because of its premise — afterlife bureaucracy condemns a man to death before his time — but because of its poor plotting. Heaven attempts to improve on the original, and in a number of ways, it does, but I was still uncomfortable with the whole theme of fate, and things being "written," not to mention the lack of accountability for the mistakes made by the afterlife bureaucracy.

That said, Heaven was entertaining, in a 70s kind of way. Beatty not only starred and co-directed, he co-wrote the screenplay, with Elaine May.

Beatty was a "New Hollywood" icon. After the tremendous success of Bonnie and Clyde, he positioned himself as a multitasker, writing, producing and directing the films he wanted to make at a time when young filmmakers had an unprecedented level of power in Hollywood.

In the Peter Biskind book Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, the pages on Heaven depict Beatty as a "finicky, obsessive" nitpicker. He butted heads with Warner Brothers management over the film's budget before taking it to Paramount, where he fussed over the potential female leads for not being his ex-flame Julie Christie. In the end, he talked Christie herself into the film.

Beatty's perfectionism paid off: Heaven was nominated for nine Oscars, including Picture, Director, Actor and Screenplay.

I didn't think it was nine Oscars worth of great, but I liked the humor, and the way the editing accentuated the pacing, making you really aware of the funny lines when they land. Dyan Cannon was great; she got a Supporting Actress nod — and so was Jack Warden, playing the same character as James Gleason in the original, and like him, getting a Supporting Actor nod.

We, however, are here today to talk about James Mason, taking over for Claude Rains in the role of Mr. Jordan and not doing much other than being stately and dignified.

Mason had a very long career, working steadily from the 30s to the 80s, mostly in high profile films on the big and small screens, including North by Northwest, A Star is Born, Lolita, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and many more.

His story was not unusual for Golden Age actors: started in British theater, then transitioned to the big screen during World War 2; came over to America and found greater fame. With his first wife, he co-wrote a book about cats, and illustrated it, too. Here's The Paris Review on his book, including some of his pen and ink drawings. They're pretty good.

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Other films with James Mason:
Forever Darling

Ready Player One

Ready Player One
seen @ Cinemart Fiveplex, Forest Hills, Queens NY

I have so much to say about Ready Player One that I'm dividing this post into segments. It's much easier for both of us. Trust me.

1. The internet and internet culture

2. Ernest Cline's 80s vs. my 80s

3. Steven Spielberg's 80s

4. Columbus

5. RP1 the movie

Super Size Me

The Food in Film Blogathon is an event devoted to movies with an emphasis on food, hosted by Speakeasy and Silver Screenings. For a complete list of participating bloggers, visit the links at either site.

Super Size Me
YouTube viewing

It wasn't the burgers or the fries that enticed me, not at first; it was the cookies. I remember the box they came in, with its colorful cast of characters: the clown, the burger thief, the burger-headed law enforcement official, the purple... thing. It's not like the cookies themselves were that special; I, like millions of American children, had simply fallen under the spell of those characters. Credit where credit's due; whoever thought of them was a genius.

They made me want to eat at McDonald's.

Sugar

Sugar
Cinemax viewing

Jerry was my best friend throughout junior high school. My memory of him is as a happy-go-lucky dude who liked to joke around a lot. I wish I could remember when and how we met; it was probably in either fifth or sixth grade. I just know we bonded pretty quickly on a lot of things - especially baseball.

In Flushing there's a Modell's Sporting Goods on Main Street. It's one of the last remnants of my childhood still standing in the neighborhood - and I've lost plenty. Downstairs, there used to be a giant bin filled with baseball gloves. Whenever Jerry and I went in there, we'd scour the bin, looking for gloves with the autographs of players we liked. As a left-hander, I always had a harder search than he did, because lefty gloves were few and far between - plus, it had to be a glove with a comfortable fit. I was very picky about that sort of thing. 

We'd go to Flushing Meadow to play catch, sometimes with his younger brothers. We had few opportunities to play an actual game outside of school - there were never enough of us to form a team - but we made do. Any dreams we had of playing for the Mets one day were only that. We weren't athletes; our interests ultimately lay elsewhere. It was okay.

Jerry was also Dominican, like the protagonist of Sugar. When Jerry was twelve or thirteen, I think, his family moved down there for a short time. I still have the letters he sent me. Sometimes Dominicans get hassled by other Latinos for whatever reason. That always annoys me because it's like they're insulting Jerry. I haven't known any other Dominicans since him - at least, none that made half the impression he did...

...and certainly no aspiring ballplayers. Sugar reminded me of the films of John Sayles: immersive in foreign cultures in a low-key, unobtrusive manner. Co-writers/co-directors Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck present Sugar's struggle to reach the big leagues simply, from a distinctly Latino perspective. This isn't The Natural or even Bull Durham; for all of Sugar's ability to throw a fastball, one always feels he's facing very long odds and a trip to The Show is anything but certain.

Do I wish I had tried to become an athlete? Eh, not really. I might wonder about it once in a blue moon, but I tend to think the chance of long-term injury doesn't make a few fleeting moments of glory worth the struggle - not that I thought that way as a kid, and neither did Jerry. Dreams don't work that way. Sugar is about one young man's pursuit of his dream. I can relate to it because while he doesn't end up a star pitcher, not everyone can be. He still finds a way to do what he loves, though, and that may be more important than glory in the end. I think Jerry would agree.

Wonder links

I've noticed something about classic film bloggers lately. Blogathons have gotten so popular, some bloggers go from one to the next, with no other type of post in between. It's a tribute to the ubiquity of the meme that this is totally possible. When I began WSW, I was convinced I had to blog all the time in order to establish a presence. I think if I were to start out now, knowing what I do about blogging, I might stick to blogathons too, at least at first. Eventually, though, there would come moments like this, where I wanna blab about other stuff.

Last month, Sandi and I went to a local production of Raisin, the musical version of A Raisin in the Sun. It was put on by the Astoria Performing Arts Center, which I admit I wasn't aware of before. Raisin is basically the Lorraine Hansberry script with songs added. They're very good songs. All the principal characters get them, both solo and in groups. As I told Sandi afterwards, whoever plays Walter Lee will have to contend with the memory of Sidney Poitier, a heavy weight to bear. Warren Nolan Jr. didn't have his physical energy, but he was good. He had a superb singing voice.

Comings and goings: Bibi & Eric came into town over Memorial Day weekend and we went down to Coney Island. It was their first time there. We rode the Wonder Wheel and the Tilt-a-Whirl, but they balked at the more daring rides. Pity. We ate at a Ukrainian restaurant, where the matronly waitress told us all about the food and tried to teach us a few Ukrainian words. 

Also, a couple of weeks earlier, John & Sue threw a going-away party on the occasion of their impending departure from New York. After too many years at a job that drove him nuts, John's gonna pursue writing on more of a full-time basis. They're only going upstate. Still, I feel like an era is ending. John's my oldest friend. Knowing he was always around was comforting. As for Sue, I've grown to deeply appreciate her as a friend and the perfect companion for John. I can't imagine anyone else putting up with him on a daily basis!

Behold the trailer for Star Trek: Discovery. It certainly looks more cinematic than its predecessors. I'm thrilled to see Michelle Yeoh in Star Trek, but one has to remember she's not the star here. That would be Sonequa Martin-Green. Her Cmdr. Rainsford does look like she's gonna undergo a kind of trial by fire, with the Klingons as the forge. Judging from their look, as well as the look of the uniforms and sets, I'm convinced this is the alternate timeline, which is not what we were initially led to believe. Sigh. Well, I'll be there for the premiere, if they ever manage to finish this bloody show. It's been delayed at least twice! (By the way, check out the trailer for Seth MacFarlane's live-action Trek-like series - on free TV!)

It's been a light year for new releases around here so far. I expect that to change somewhat this summer. After debating whether or not to return to the long underwear scene, I decided I gotta see Wonder Woman simply because it's a movie that's shamefully overdue. Plus, it's not directed by Zack Snyder. The new Apes movie is a given, and holy guacamole, Christopher Nolan doing the battle of Dunkirk? Sign me up. Also, outdoor movies - assuming the weather warms up enough for them - may be thin this year because there are so many screenings of films from the last year or two. We'll see.

Your links this month:

Aurora offers a guest post from someone who has a slightly dissenting opinion on Feud.

Paddy reviews a book about a pre-code actor and interviews the author.

Ivan, like, totally grooves on the 80s Sarah Jessica Parker series Square Pegs.

Kristina falls under the spell of Boris Karloff's Invisible Ray.

Pam plays with some shockingly age-inappropriate Alien toys.

Angela on Feud.

This review of Feud provides more of a historical perspective.

When the late Jonathan Demme was still an actor, he appeared in schlock like this.

Now it can be seen: lost footage of the Beatles filming Help!.

In appreciation of Joan Crawford, the Thespian.

No, seriously, WTF were they thinking in trying to remake Dirty Dancing?

Toy Story 3

The "No, You're Crying" Blogathon is an event devoted to movies that make us cry (for whatever reason), hosted by Moon in Gemini. For a complete list of participating bloggers, visit the host site.

Toy Story 3

Top five favorite toys from my childhood:

5. Hess trucks. Whenever I went out with my parents and we passed a Hess gas station, I had to have a toy Hess truck. If you put batteries in them, the headlights and tail lights would light up. The doors to the cab would open. I had one with a retractable hose. To this day, I could not tell you why I was so into them. I just was.

4. Lincoln Logs. I was a fiend for building toys. With this, I liked the way the logs fit into the notches at the ends so neatly. I wasn't very creative in building my log cabins, but that was okay. I just liked putting the logs together, little by little.

3. Tinkertoys. These, on the other hand, were the kind of building toys with which you could go nuts. I think I favored abstract sculpture-type designs. I didn't care what they looked like. The weirder the better.

2. Lite Brite. Loved this one! It was a bunch of colored lights that you stuck in specific patterns into holes on a kind of light box. You'd get images like a clown face, or a sailboat or a house, stuff like that. When it was finished, you turned off the lights in your room and turned this on and voila! 

1. Domino Rally. Oh. My. God. I could not get enough of this. You would line up these small colored tiles shaped like dominos and knock them down. They came with all these cool accessories that you could add to your rally, like bridges, contraptions with rolling marbles and moving parts, etc. I would set it up on the kitchen floor, which always pissed my mother off because she wouldn't be able to walk through the front door until I knocked the dominos down.

I don't recall imagining my toys having lives of their own. I didn't have many dolls or action figures or stuffed animals, though, so it likely didn't occur to me much. Given how big action figures have become, I kinda regret not having any. I saw the same commercials for GI Joe and Transformers and He-Man and the Superfriends as everyone else, but I never bugged my parents for them. They probably would've gotten them for me. My interests were in other kinds of toys.

The Toy Story films, as far as I'm concerned, stack up with any live-action movie, past or present, foreign or domestic, you care to name. They show how cool it is to be a toy. Buzz has delusions of being an actual person (sort of) in the first movie, but Woody sets him straight. Why? Because nothing is more important to a toy than the bond between it and its human owner. It's what they live for. That's the theme that runs throughout the entire trilogy. They're not miniature people. They're toys - and they're meant to be played with.

Okay. The crying. I'm gonna proceed on the assumption you've seen Toy Story 3 (if you haven't, what are you doing reading this? Go watch it; it's great) and jump straight to the climax of the movie: the part where they're trapped on the garbage conveyor belt, about to be melted into slag by the incinerator.

I saw TS3 theatrically. As this scene took place, a part of me knew they weren't really gonna die... but I wasn't sure! It was one of those no-way-out situations in which the hero(es) somehow finds a way out, but I didn't see a way out. I was on the edge of my seat, dog!

Then the Pizza Planet aliens snatched them up at the last second ("THE CLAAAAAW!"). I swear to you, I cannot remember the last time a movie left me feeling so euphoric. My tears at that moment were mixed with laughter. It was one of those rare moments where it felt good to be alive! That animated characters could make me feel this way was a tribute to the remarkable work Pixar put into making them real over the course of these movies... and the story wasn't even over yet.

The ending. Omigod, the ending. Even now, I can't think of it without choking up. Why? Perhaps seeing grown-up Andy hand off his toys to little Bonnie triggered some latent paternal instinct in me - which is odd, because the last thing I want is to be a parent. Perhaps it was coming to the end of the road, the parting of ways between Andy and Woody, that made me so emotional. Perhaps it was a little of both. Either way, I was a puddle of goo afterward - and I don't think I was the only one in the audience in such a state.

Toy Story 4 is happening. I would say, "How can they possibly top the last one?" but I said that after 2, about 3. So I guess I'll reserve my spot in line now... with extra handkerchiefs.

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Related:
TS3 and Oscar's anti-animation bias

Other movies that have made me cry (that I'll admit to):
Field of Dreams
Breaking the Waves
The Children's Hour

Ye royal links

Just when I had begun getting used to arranging my Sunday nights around Feud, it ends. I know some TV shows make an entire season's worth of programming available at once, but I still believe there's something to be said for the experience of spending the week thinking about what will happen on next week's show, hurrying home in anticipation of a new episode, shutting out all potential distractions so you don't miss a thing. It seems like you appreciate a show more that way, instead of consuming an entire season in one evening or one weekend. That's too easy.

I've been drawing again. There are local Meetup groups devoted to figure drawing and outdoor sketching I've been partaking in lately. It's made me aware of the things I'm still good at and the things in which I've gotten rusty. So be it - as long as it means I can still draw. Art has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Wouldn't want to give it up.

I recently downloaded a video game based on the movie Office Space. All the familiar characters in Mike Judge's comedy are there, and like the movie, the goal is to steal money from Initech, pennies at a time, so you can quit your job and retire. It's a strategy game; placing characters in critical positions, accomplishing mundane tasks that earn you game money, using that money to buy items that'll help you win.

I've played similar games, but this one seemed almost too mundane. The initial thrill of seeing scenes from the movie reenacted and familiar lines and items reproduced wore off after awhile. What's left wasn't enjoyable enough to return to again and again. A Star Trek game I downloaded was the same way (though that did at least have starship battles). Maybe other people can play these kinds of games.

Anyway, your links:

Raquel and Danny cover the TCM Film Festival.

Jennifer toured the Warner Brothers studio.

Ivan reassesses the acting career of Ronald Reagan.

Aurora gets her lunch money stolen by Butch of the Little Rascals.

Jacqueline on Feud.

Ryan Murphy and Feud cast members at a Q&A.

Was this French comic book an unacknowledged influence on Star Wars and other modern SF franchises?

The Orson Welles/FDR connection.

A new photo book contains candid photos of Old Hollywood stars as they're being made up.

If this isn't the definitive Friday the 13th franchise appreciation post, I don't know what is.

The Wonders, the fictitious pop band from the Tom Hanks movie That Thing You Do, recently reunited.

Finally, a virtual hug goes out to my pal Paddy, who hit the big six-oh last month.

The links and the furious

Years ago, when I saw the adoration the classic film bloggers had for Robert Osborne, my first thought was a snarky one: yeah, he can read from a teleprompter really well. That was before I watched Turner Classic Movies more often. In time, I, too, got to appreciate his presence as the prime time host and public face of the network. In reading the reports from the TCM Film Festival (which will be a somber one this year, I imagine), especially from people like Raquel and Aurora, I got to understand how much he knew about film history, film preservation, and film culture, and how sharing that knowledge with others was his mission. Film fans everywhere owe him a debt of gratitude.

Thanks once again to everyone who took part in our Jack Lemmon Blogathon. I wanted to devote at least one to an actor I admire. Perhaps next year I'll do the same for an actress. Any suggestions?

Covering Feud hasn't been a problem so far. I haven't had to rearrange my schedule to accommodate the program; I get home from my writers group with time to spare. I did have to pass on a Queens World Film Festival after-party, though, which was a real bummer since Opening Night was canceled due to the snow. Oh well. I am eager to hear what you think of Feud, so let's talk about it. (BTW, I should have said this in the beginning, but in case it wasn't obvious: assume spoilers. Though I'll do my best to not give away too much.)

I'm thinking of doing another weekly series this summer, only not about a TV show. I've gotta make sure I can do it properly, but if I can, I'll let you know the details.

Yes, I, like everyone else on Planet Earth, saw the Justice League trailer, against my better judgment. (I'm sure there are a couple of Kalahari Bushmen complaining that the Flash's costume looks all wrong.) If WB insists on giving Zack Snyder the keys to the car, so be it; that doesn't necessarily mean I'm gonna let him drive me. I finally saw Batman v. Superman and it was exactly what I expected: big, loud, unsubtle. And dark. I think this movie will be more of the same. Will I see it anyway? I mean, this is the Justice League... I dunno. Ask me again this fall.

So this month: Feud continues, another blogathon, and I dunno about any new releases. The slate looks clean at the moment until Guardians 2 in May (oh boy!).

Your links:


Raquel shares her memories of the times she'd seen and met Osborne in person.

The Lady Eve plays with these classic movie star dolls.

Why doesn't Pam go to the movies much anymore?

Le provides a cinematic history of the Beauty and the Beast story.

Ivan looks at the debut film from director Robert Altman.

Aurora has a gay-all time with The Flintstones.

This obscure horror movie marked the first screen appearance of the late David Bowie.

And then there was that time when Barbara Stanwyck filled in on Jack Benny's radio show.

A film came out last year that re-imagined the life and career of director Fritz Lang.

Which living authors have the most film adaptations?

Fences

Fences
seen @ Cinemart Fiveplex, Forest Hills, Queens NY

I've spent the past three years struggling to write a novel about baseball. It really has been a struggle, too. Some days I think it's brilliant, other days I think it's a complete waste of time. I can write the stuff with pitching and batting and home runs and strikeouts, but tying it all to real, believable people, who laugh and cry and are virtuous and vicious, that's another story. I've written for much of my life, in one form or another, yet I feel like I don't know a thing about storytelling: the ability to create a narrative and sustain it, to find the ups and downs of human behavior and to end someplace different than where I began. Maybe I don't.

I chose baseball because I grew up with it, because I have strong feelings about it still, all these years later, even when I think I've outgrown it and it doesn't speak to me anymore. I chose it because I still stop and watch kids playing with aluminum bats on a neighborhood field, or softball teams from rival midtown businesses going at it in Central Park. I can't help but watch. It's my hope I can convey my feelings for the game, good and bad, within my novel. My writing group seems to think I'm on the right track, at the very least.

Then I see a movie like Fences and I'm ready to burn my manuscript. To call it a sports movie isn't really accurate; for all the talk of baseball (and football), the closest we come to it are passing shots of kids playing stickball in the street that have nothing to do with the story directly. 

Mostly, baseball is used as a metaphor to express the life and worldview of Denzel Washington's character Troy, a former Negro League player who never had the chance to cross over into Major League Baseball. Troy is a larger-than-life figure; a hard man, set in his ways, one who loves openly and freely, yet at the heart of him is a secret. Its revelation, as you might imagine, changes everything.

August Wilson's award-winning play is one part A Raisin in the Sun, one part Death of a Salesman. Like my novel, there's a family with issues, but seeing this story makes me believe I could push my characters' conflicts harder. A lot harder. See, as a writer, if you spend enough time with your characters, you start to like them. You want to protect them from harm. 

Like Troy says to his younger son, though, there's no law saying I have to like them. I do, however, have to be truthful to them, even if it means taking them places I don't want them to go. This movie reminded me of that. There are uncomfortable moments and harsh moments and WTF moments, but they all make for a better story, a more truthful story. That's something I've gotta try to remember with my novel.

One review I read thought Denzel might have given the best self-directed performance in film history. That got me thinking about which others could fall into that category: Chaplin in Modern Times; Welles in Kane; Olivier in Hamlet; Woody in Annie Hall; Costner in Dances with Wolves and Gibson in Braveheart. I think you'll agree those are all pretty monumental.

I can't imagine how hard it must be to not only direct yourself in a movie, but to do it in one where you're on the screen most, if not all, of the time. Directing requires a hyper-awareness of so many things at once: the film's tone; how little or how much you're getting out of the actors; the light, especially if you're outdoors; any potential distractions; scene continuity; the list goes on. Now throw your own performance, your interaction with the rest of the cast and whether you yourself are up to snuff, on top of all that. Is it any wonder Hitchcock stuck to cameos?

This is Denzel's third time in the director's chair, and in each of his films, he has played the starring role. Seeing actors direct themselves is no longer a novelty, but I think we've taken for granted how difficult it has got to be. 

In Fences, Denzel made it look easy. Yes, he performed the play on Broadway (and won the Tony for it), so he knows Troy inside out by now. Knowing how big this film had the potential to become, though, and is, he raised his game to another level - as if it wasn't high enough to begin with! 

Working once again with Viola Davis (someone get her a box of Kleenex already! She's always running her nose in movies), who appeared in the play with Denzel (and also won the Tony), must have been a big help. The rest of the cast is great, and if the film's stage origins are obvious, that's hardly a hindrance. This may be one for the ages.

I saw Fences on Monday, the 26th, the "observance" of Christmas Day, so it was like a holiday. The late afternoon show I had planned to attend at the Cinemart was sold out! Hadda get the next one. Again, though, it means the neighborhood supports this place. Given that the Cinemart has been on the comeback trail for the past couple of years, it's really good to see. On the down side, though, Assassin's Creed was playing next door and it was LOUD.

The audience, from what I briefly saw of it, was a mixture of black and white, but the black folks made their presence known, if you follow me. There were more than a few oh-my-gods and is-he-seriouses, and some you-go-girl-type applause in a key scene with Davis.

I just had to laugh. It had been awhile since I had seen a movie with a vocal audience of any kind, black or white. I admit, sometimes I miss it. Then again, several cell phones went off during the movie, so maybe I don't miss it that much!

Arrival (2016)

Arrival (2016)
seen @ Cinemart Fiveplex, Forest Hills, Queens NY

One of the biggest complaints about movies or TV shows with outer space aliens is the artistic license granted to make extraterrestrials communicate with humans. As far back as the silent classic A Trip to the Moon, it was always taken for granted. Slowly, as our knowledge about the cosmos grew, and sci-fi literature became more popular, adjustments had to be made. In the 50s, aliens in movies always said something like, "We have studied your language" to at least pay lip service to the idea they're different from us.

Close Encounters had the clever idea of using light and sound as a basis for communication. Within the movie's context, its purpose was to indicate we are an intelligent species, even if we were incapable at the time of traveling who-knows-how-many millions of light years in giant Christmas-tree ornaments. Contact used prime numbers the same way - mathematics being a language all its own.

Arrival might be the first movie I've seen where humans make a concerted effort to decipher a written alien language; where it's the film's raison d'etre. I have to admit, half the time I watched it, I kept expecting Amy Adams to discover "to serve man" is actually a cookbook, metaphorically speaking, but the inevitable twist ending was quite different.

As a kid, I liked cryptograms. You know, where there's an encoded message, where X stands for A, Q for B, J for C and so on, and you have to decipher the code before you read the message. Sometimes entirely different symbols stood in for our familiar English alphabet. Sometimes, I'd try to make my own code, but I never had anyone with which to share the code. I liked cryptography as a game, a puzzle, but I never aspired to pursue it as a career.

The alien languages invented for fictitious books, TV shows and movies all have one thing in common: they require human actors to speak these words. Arrival acknowledges up front humans are incapable of speaking the aliens' language, therefore the need for a written language is established.

It's a clever conceit. I can't help but wonder if it could've been enough to carry the whole film. The climax of Close Encounters, after all, relied on that first contact moment. Here, Adams and Jeremy Renner succeed in that task, but then the stakes are raised. I can't say more without revealing spoilers, though I will say while I got the twist ending, I didn't grok whether it was something within Adams' character, or if it was the result of the aliens' intervention. It was pretty weird.

Queen of Katwe

Queen of Katwe
seen @ UA Kaufman Astoria 14, Astoria, Queens NY

I don't recall when I first learned chess. I suspect it was sometime in junior high. I have a mental image of an adult, probably a teacher, explaining the rules to me. I'm fairly sure I didn't learn it from my father. He was more of a checkers man - that and cards.

I never had any great desire to master the game. Video games were more my speed as a kid, and as an adult, I'd rather play gin rummy. Put a chess board and pieces in front of me, I'll play you, but only for fun.

It's a very competitive game, that's for sure. Whenever I go to Washington Square Park, I see dudes playing each other on tables at the southwest corner, arranged in semicircles near the entrance. They tend to be friendly games, but with a fair amount of trash talking. At a Panera Bread near me, I often see several dudes who regularly go at it, tooth and nail, when they play. They seem to be pals, too, but their competition is cutthroat. They slap the clock timers furiously and argue over moves.

Chess ain't for dummies. Remembering how each piece moves, being ever-conscious of protecting your king while searching for a hole in your opponent's line of defense to exploit - it's demanding. Even a casual game requires attempting to think one or two steps ahead at the least.

I tend to play defensively. I don't wanna come on so strong I wind up slaughtered because of defenses I should have taken when I had the chance. It doesn't matter. I still end up losing when I play the computer on my laptop.

Chess doesn't strike me as a sport the way baseball is a sport, yet Queen of Katwe is labeled a sports movie anyway, so whatever. ESPN Films co-produced it, so I guess it counts. Chess doesn't lend itself well to film - there are only so many furrowed brows
and close-ups of chess pieces you can make - yet there have been a small amount of chess films. Tobey Maguire played Bobby Fisher recently, for example.

Mira Nair is a good director. I enjoyed The Namesake and Mississippi Masala. I was conflicted when I first saw she was making this one for Disney, but this isn't as saccharine as you might expect. I did think her editor had a heavy hand. Editing should never call attention to itself, but from the first post-opening credits scene, it did. I also thought the film was a bit longer than perhaps it should have been; just when you think Phiona Mutesi is about to win that Big Tournament, something sets her back and she has to win another Big Tournament. Still, it was pleasant to watch. David Oyelowo continues to impress me in everything he does. I like him a lot. And Nair did a wonderful thing at the end by bringing out the main cast, one by one, for a "curtain call" with their real-life counterparts.

So the last time I spoke about Lupita Nyong'o, I challenged Hollywood to capitalize on all the goodwill built by her Oscar win and make her a star. It's been a mixed bag at best so far. Yes, she was in The Force Awakens, but as a CGI character. Ditto The Jungle Book. And did anyone even bother with that Liam Neeson plane movie? She's had better luck on Broadway. Jen told me she saw Nyong'o in Eclipsed and loved it.

Katwe is the first real film showcase role for Nyong'o since 12 Years a Slave. She's excellent, but I admit I had a hard time imagining her being old enough to have had four kids, two of them teens. Eh. I'll let it slide.

So I saw the movie with my friend Sandi, who I've been itching to finally tell you about. I met her a year and a half ago at the Newtown Literary reading. Her poetry was published in the same issue as my short story. In talking to her afterwards, she had said she was trying to start a sci-fi/fantasy writers group. I had some old sci-fi material that either never saw the light of day or was never properly critiqued or both, so I decided to join up. I spent the next eight or nine months meeting with Sandi and these two other girls at her place in Astoria. It was helpful, but being in two writers groups at once became a strain, so I had to leave.

Sandi and I, however, have stayed in touch. Katwe was only the second movie we've seen together, after Kubo and the Two Strings, which we also liked. She actually got a little teary-eyed over Katwe. She's the type that likes to stay for all the credits at a movie's end, unlike me, so I've learned to indulge her. I don't mind it  so much if I'm with someone. Besides, the day before was her birthday.