NETFLIX QUICK PIX!!!

HERE'S TO YOU, MRS ROBINSON!

Anne Bancroft, one of our finest actresses of stage and screen died some years ago, quietly, after battling cancer. Lately I've been reviewing some of her best, and most intimate flix.

'NIGHT, MOTHER stars Bancroft as the cheery, candy eating mother of Sissy Spacek. Spacek has methodically gone about planning her own death by suicide, right under Mother's nose. This small film, based on Marsha Norman's Pulitzer Prize winning play, is taut with compelling performances and dialogue, as Bancroft tries to talk her daughter out of doing the deed. Possibly one of middle-aged Bancrofts lesser known projects. Unfortunately NOT available on DVD.

Shirley MacLaine co-stars in THE TURNING POINT, an utterly fantastic view into the precarious world of Ballet Theater. Bancroft is the retiring, over-the-hill Prima Ballerina, MacLaine the friend from the early days who chose to marry Tom Skerrit and raise a family. Together they sire a daughter with major potential as a dancer, and Bancroft swoops in and takes the girl under her wing. This film features one of the greatest cat-fights ever brought to the silver screen. Co-starring Mikhail Baryshnikov's shapely buttocks.

Bancroft is Annie Sullivan in THE MIRACLE WORKER, Helen Keller's nearly blind teacher determined to teach deaf/blind Patty Duke some manners. Bancroft won the Oscar (accepted by Joan Crawford), and Patty Duke got the mini-kiddie statuette. You know the story.

Speaking of stories you know: THE HINDENBURG. One of those bloated. over-wrought disaster epics from the '70s features an all-star cast headed by George C. Scott. Bancroft has a minor role as The Duchess, a card playing woman with a past. What that past is, we have no idea, but Bancroft looks swell in period costumes.

Of course, we all know THE GRADUATE, Mike Nichols' flick about Dustin Hoffman's seduction by the ever-sultry older woman. Bancroft is a marvel in this one. Sexy as hell, and dressed mostly in animal prints, this is another of those great films from the late '6os that pushes every envelope and feature that oh, so mod mise en scene we love soooo much. Famous soundtrack by Simon and Garfunkle.

Now why I had to revisit BRIDESHEAD REVISITED when I already own the entire three disc collection of the classic '80s mini-series, I have no idea. I did, so you don't have to. Emma Thompson is OK, but no Claire Bloom, she. Michael Gambon is OK, too, but no Laurence Olivier. The few nobodies who play the youth in the film undoubtedly will NOT have the careers that Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews have. What can I say about a film that used the same Castle Howard as a location and prominent character in this distilled version of a great already-been-done classic. Even Sebastian's Teddy Bear is diminished. In order to cram this epic into 2.25 hours, the characters are overdrawn, bloated and boring. Perfect for the short attention span of today's youth.


Speaking of distilled (or should I say EMBALMED), last night I dropped into our local "gay" bar, Rumours Cabaret and Show Lounge. All the usual suspects, sitting like crustaceans on bar stools, hooting and hollering like the white gah-bahge they are. If someone would finally fill David L. with helium and set him aloft, he might pull a Hindenburg and explode in a fiery holocaust over the parking lot. Frankly, I had no interest in mingling with THOSE people, who so remind me of the slime I used to deal with at Pomona's Alibi East, but managed to sequester myself away in a corner with someone who actually COULD make a conversation. Yes, Cameron, KISS KISS, BANG BANG is now in my Netflix queue.

Sometimes it's best to just stay home with your old, dead friends.

Here's to you, Miss Bancroft.

MY MOTHER, THE BAR!!!

Well, she's done it again!

At our pre-Oscar bash Merrily let out with a new secret! She never married my real father?! That was news to me, as they say. I think I smacked my fork down on the table and said "WHAT?" sorta loudly. Other guests were trying to console me, but there was no need. Nothing ma mere does shocks me anymore. I mean, I have a 26 year old "Uncle" Tony Birdsall, he of the I SWEAR I HAVE A PHD IN PSYCHOLOGY BUT I TACK ROOFS ONTO NEW HOMES! I SWEAR! persuasion.

Google Anthony Birdsall and see what you WON'T find!

So, yeah. I am a BASTARD. I knew that much, already, but I did not know that Merrily Curtis Esq. didn't suck it up and marry that sperm donor of a father. I also found, that he swore that he would call me on my 18th birthday (he did), whether Merrily liked it or not. Only my nerves rattled at that point.

Family secrets, dark as they are, could probably be better told in PRIVATE, rather than having this 45 year old mystery challenge that the Curtis' Family has played, long after the main players have died.

Don't worry about me, doll.

I LOVE being a bastard.

Fuck all y'all.

PRE-OSCAR BASH!!!

LUCY!!!

OK. So we had a little party featuring faboo dishes from long gone Hollywood Bistros. And each dish had a film to go with!!!

All dolled-up, the party goers were given three courses (and a lot of wine) and three screenings to coincide with each course.

Oh, joy!

We started with the oh-so heavy Robert Cobb Salad from The Brown Derby. Now, you have never had French Dressing until you've had this. Then, after a 22 min interlude of LUCY (she at the Brown Derby, meeting Bill Holden and Eve Arden), did we proceed onto the next course. Oh, you should have heard us howling with laughter over Miss Ball. She is timeless.

Chasen's Chili is also heavy (like three pounds of chopped beef/pork sirloin to 1/2 lb of pinto beans, topped with cheese, sour cream, and other artery clogging delights) did we move onto the documentary, OFF THE MENU: LAST DAY'S AT CHASEN'S. 90 minutes of sheer pleasure. Mostly brought on by HUGE queen, Raymond Billbool, who grew up in Burma with a pic of Chasen's regular, LIZ TAYLOR, pinned to his wall. Oh! The shanty life! Watch him treat his top boy like the slave he should not be! I would have smacked Billbool down, got a pair of tweezers, and snatched that gnarly bush out of his ears, and pronto. If and when I can remanufacture PEPE'S FLAME OF LOVE, I will let you know. Nothing but vodka and burning orange peel, this drink sounds like a DRINK.

Ed Mc Mahon loves them.

Then dessert.

Now, this featured a Mystery Guest (ala What's My Line), but since the recipe was from a Photoplay Mag from 1934, no one had to fuck up their pasted on lashes or hair dids. I simply played Miss Crawford, serving up a drunken dessert of soaked pineapples, berries, and coffee. The coffee was the sidecar. Then came a NIGHT GALLERY episode with a blind Crawford (as directed by Spielberg) as broad who wants to see for just twelve hours. In the midst of a black out. Those ratz and things were falling out of her 'do, but Crawford is Crawford, and she did her best. Tom Bosley doesn't fare too well, as the loser that gives up his sight for JC, the rich woman who can afford to get Bosley out of debt. Any pain and suffering? Hell, no! That's HIS problem.

In short, it was a grand time.

You should have another of these.......

Soon.

NETFLIX QUICK PIX!!!

TAWDRY SHOWBIZ FLIX!!!

Who cannot love those garish vehicles (you know, Hollywood tells on its OWN self) from the sixties. Outrageous, laughable, incredibly set decorated to the GILT, these flix make me snigger with glee. Oh, you can keep your (pretty laughable anyway, come to think of it) JUDY! tell all A STAR IS BORN....in ten different dress sizes! or other, more revered films such as SUNSET BOULEVARD, which actually has a swell performance by Gloria Swanson, but HARLOW starring an inept Carol Baker, who has the lusty heated sex appeal of Marjorie Maine, are better suited BY FAR to my taste.

Hollywood sure don't make 'em like this anymore!

Natalie Wood is DAISY CLOVER! And her INSIDE! When inside comes out, what, you might ask, comes out?! HELEN LAWSON. Or at least her voice double. You half expect Wood to start singing "I'll Plant My Own Tree (and I'll Make it Grow)" under a giant mobile, courtesy of Monsanto. Yes, Andre Previn is the composer/lyricist, and he is his usual mediocre self. Wood, pushing 30, is sorta close-one-eye-and-squint-outta-the-other believably 16, and Ruth Gordon, pushing 130, is simply believably I-was-preggers-16-years-ago like my Aunt Fannie. But who cares? It's RUTH GORDON! Robert Redford is the blond he-man of the swishy persuasion, and Christopher Plummer is the evil Studio Head, Mr. Swan. For whatever reason, he's followed by a perpetual flame. Yes, like the JFK grave. Mrs. Swan, the icy cold blonde Cruella de Ville of the piece is harmless. Edith Head makes some hideously '60s costuming choices about the '3os. AND SHE REMEMBERED 'EM!!! But didn't she end up designing for JC PENNEY in the end? This lithe flick turns in at 2:05 minutes, but you could easily skip about forty minutes worth of misguided musicalia. Also featured: Malevolent Homo Roddy McDowell.

THE OSCAR features STEPHEN BOYD'S giant head and tiny pants. Read into to that whatever you want. Oh, he's a scrapper all right! He yells like Charleton Heston....all the time...and he hangs out with HYMIE (I didn't make this one up), a sycophant and "promoter" pal played by Monsanto enhanced Tony Bennett! Jill St. John is the naughty good girl, seen dancing on a pool table clad in nothing but a tiger print bikini. In the first five minutes! And if you can't recognize a henna rinse, you aren't a fag. This flick has THE BEST furniture and wall hangings of any film of the period. Brace yourself for LOVE, EARLY AMERICAN STYLE...IT'S MOD!!! EVERYONE has a cameo! I mean, Merle Oberon? Edith Head? Stephen Boyd's Chest? Bob Hope? Scratch that. So what. Casting like this makes ya wonder: WHAT WAS MARTHA RAYE DOING?! What will Boyd do to get that OSCAR? Only Hymie knows....

Moving slightly off Sunset and onto Broadway. STAGE STRUCK stars a begnign Susan Strasberg (in her FEATURING role), a tall but quiet dude, the older Henry Fonda, the even older Herbert Marshall, traisping along in that wooden leg. This thing proposes that it was based on STAGE DOOR, but this RKO garbage only resembles the main character's stage name: Eva Lovelace. I, know. STRIPPER. But Hepburn made a sensation of her, and Strasberg hocks her father's wares. She drunkenly plays Juliet to Fonda's Romeo at a cast party. A RAVE! Eventually, after playing in rather tawdry coffee houses in the Village, Missy bumps the miscast Broadway Diva off her perch, and in few days takes over, looks forward to walking into Sardi's that night.

Sorry for the spoiler.

You knew where it was going.

Did I mention that Christopher Plummer plays the long-suffering playwrite?

He does.

You doze.

Marion Davies stars in SHOW PEOPLE. In blonde ringlets, carrying a perisol, Miss Davies from the South arrives with her Colnel Pickett Papa on the streets of Old Hollywood. What a pleasure it is to see! LA USED TO BE THE NICEST PLACE. Sigh. Quickly Davies is signed (note the MGM gates), and even more quickly do the coffers run dry. Enter Billy Haines, Hollywood's First Faggot and leading man. Billy works for a keystone cops type comedy outfit, and quickly does Marion sign on, ONLY TO GET A PIE IN THE PUSS!!! Soon, however, Davies signs on at a prestige studio, thereby becoming a STAH! and turning into Gloria Swanson. Davies does a remarkable Swanson, and a luncheon scene on the MGM lot features the likes of Mae Murray, Douglas Fairbanks, Norma Desmond. This flick is SO much fun, and Davies is remarkable. Billy Haines proves to be a good sport, relegated to second lead when he should have been Above the Title.

This is Miss Davies' film.

William Randolph Hearst