August 2023 Viewing Diary

Posted on September 3, 2023 by sheila

Oppenheimer (2023; d. Christopher Nolan)
In general, I am not a Nolan fan (the only one of his I liked was Dunkirk), and I went into this hesitantly because I read an interview with him where he said the whole movie was inspired by the line “Oppenheimer’s deadly toy” from Sting’s song “Russians”. There are not enough eyerolls in the world!! I have THOUGHTS about that song – dating back YEARS – it just made me laugh to hear him talk about it like it was this deep thought-provoking thing. But whatever, I’m an asshole, and of course I had to see Oppenheimer! I think Nolan is better when whatever he’s making is grounded in a real story – in history – not coming from his imagination. He’s obligated to a story that has already occurred: this is good for him. Some of the criticisms of the film I’ve seen have been indicative of the problem when you are only able to see something through a single lens. It’s like your actual critical faculties atrophy when you frame everything the same way, and want every story to “comment on” the same things – even if it doesn’t fit with the story. Different pieces of art say different things in different ways. Trying to shoehorn every single story into the same framework is … like the writers in Communist Russia suddenly having to toe the line with Socialist realism, in a literal Publish or Die scenario. Every single story had to be written in the “approved” style, and all of the stories had to show the “correct” historical interpretation. Like … this is what these “critics” sound like to me. Oppenheimer is pretty straightforward. In other words, it’s fine. It ain’t that deep.

Between Two Worlds (2023; d. Emmanuel Carrère)
There’s something rather The Help-ish about this story, although it’s worse, because it’s based on a true story. It means well, but, whatever, so do a lot of things. I reviewed for Ebert.

Birth/rebirth (2023; d. Laura Moss)
I really liked this. I reviewed for Ebert.

King Creole (1958; d. Michael Curtiz)
Elvis has stepped into his own here, holding up the starring role admirably, sensitively, and understanding of the complexities. He takes Nellie to that seedy hotel room! What a scene! He’s captivating, charismatic, but he doesn’t ONLY rely on that. He’s actually giving a real performance here – the two films before this one (Jailhouse Rock and Loving You) were designed expressly to “comment on” or at least try to RESPOND to the phenomenon of his fame. This, though, was a “regular” movie. He had to “show up” in a different way, and he does, particularly in scenes with these really skilled actors, like Walter Matthau, Carolyn Jones, and Dolores Hart. I don’t mean any of this in a condescending way. It’s quite the opposite. You have to know what to look for, when you look at Elvis’ career. You have to recognize and acknowledge its singularity. Not a lot was asked of him. Beyond his draconian contract, that is. Eventually, his movies shied away from complexity, from grown-up stuff. But King Creole is ALL grown-up stuff. He’s dark and soulful and quiet. He doesn’t push. Ever. He’s very good. I love this movie.

Thief (1981; d. Michael Mann)
It’s so damn good. And you know I love my heist movies.

Flaming Star (1960; d. Don Siegel)
Criterion just added this one to their Elvis lineup and I’m so pleased. It’s so good! 2023 standards can’t apply: it was 1960. It’s of its time. That out of the way: the message here is so strong, so bold. South Africa banned the film – not because of violence, but because it portrayed an interracial relationship. The whole film is about racism, and scapegoating someone because they belong to an identity group. The film is clearly on the side of the indigenous people. The white people who are good and open-minded are the exception. The action here – the fighting, the horse riding, everything – is so strong (I mean, look at the director), and it makes me wish Elvis had done more stuff with Siegel. Elvis plays Pacer, the half-white half-Native son, torn between two groups: he’s never been made to feel welcome in the white world, but he loves his father and brother. He also doesn’t feel at home with his tribe: he’s outside. But finally things go too far: he has to fight the whites with his tribe. Elvis is all action here: everything has an objective behind it, an engine running underneath it. He doesn’t talk much. He’s too BUSY. This is different than anything else Elvis was ever asked to do. It really suits him. There’s some wild horse back riding where it’s obvious he’s actually doing it. Very impressive. And powerful uncompromising ending.

Scrapper (2023; d. Charlotte Regan)
I loved this so much! Everyone should see it, lol. It’s a first film too – so we have so much to look forward to from this young filmmaker. I reviewed for Ebert.

The Trouble with Girls (1969; d. Peter Tewksbury)
This is probably one of the most forgotten of Elvis’ mostly forgotten filmography. There’s no reason it should be forgotten. Maybe something like Girls Girls Girls is an acquired taste – you have to get into the spirit of it, you have to play by its rules – but Trouble with Girls isn’t like that. It’s not even really an “Elvis movie”. There are long stretches where he’s not even in it. Unheard of! It’s a big ensemble cast, lots of great character actors – Sheree North, Vincent Price, Dabney Coleman – and everyone has their own story. There’s also a murder-mystery. Elvis strolls through it, in head to toe white, with sideburns to die for, and he’s so present and easy and uncaring. I’m sure by this point he just did not give a fuck anymore: he had one more movie to go in his contract. But this “not giving a fuck” takes any pressure off. The Trouble with Girls takes place in 1929, and Elvis is the center – he even gets to sign gospel! – but he’s not running the show. He still justifies the film’s existence – it’s a movie star role. But another movie star – Burt Reynolds – Robert Redford – Paul Newman – those guys could have played the role too. (Maybe not the gospel part.) Not every actor could just stroll through a cast of hundreds and draw every eye to him. The film is charming, it’s funny, it has some wacky unmotivated camera moves – like, whose POV is the movie from? – and I love the whole thing. There’s no reason this film shouldn’t be more well-known. The title has nothing to do with the film itself.

Bad Fever (2011; d. Dustin Guy Defa)
Caught this on the Criterion Channel, along with the rest of Defa’s work. I fell in love with it. Wow. I’m working on a piece about it. I highly recommend checking it out. It stars Kentucker Audley, an actor (and director) I really admire. I’ve written a lot about him but somehow I never caught this one.

Prince of the City (1981; d. Sidney Lumet)
A re-watch in the wake of Treat Williams’ death. This movie was huge for me as a kid, and one of the ways I discovered films – as a conscious thing, as opposed to a passive receiver of stories. Dog Day Afternoon introduced me to … so much. I was 12, 13 years old when I first saw it. When I was a little older – in college – I rented Prince of the City from my local video store. I still remember this huge VHS tape, it just seemed so substantial, so important! It was so different from Dog Day Afternoon, and the story was so complicated, so layered, and he is SO good in it. But they’re all good. God, this film.

Past Lives (2023; d. Celine Song)
So far, one of my faves of 2023. I became familiar with Greta Lee because of Russian Doll, and Teo Yoo from Decision to Leave. Here they play adults who had been childhood friends, separated for two decades, and then reunited through social media. John Magaro (whom I first “met” in Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow) is also excellent – and kind of heartbreaking in a really quiet subtle way. I’m hungry for films like this. Starving, really. A film about human relationships, about a man and a woman – connecting (or not) – nothing huge “happening”, but everything happens. Our relationships to each other is the real stuff of life, the stuff we all know and care about. I was not just moved by this. I was actually overwhelmed. The final 20, 30 minutes were super intense. I wonder what I would have felt about this film if I had seen it when I was 26, 27. I am sure it would have looked very different. I don’t know. It seems like this is the kind of film you could revisit multiple times through your life and it would seem like a different film each time. The acting is so good. The film is very difficult, in its way. Before Sunset comes to mind as an appropriate comparison, but Past Lives is its own thing. It broke my heart a little bit. I loved it.

Ernest & Celestine: A Trip to Gibberitia (2023; d. Julien Chheng and Jean-Christophe Roger)
Charming, tender, and deep! I reviewed Ernest & Celestine for Ebert.

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R.I.P. Jimmy Buffett

Posted on September 3, 2023 by sheila

I met Jimmy Buffett in 2017 in the theatre lobby after a performance of Escape to Margaritaville, the Broadway musical centered around Jimmy Buffett songs, then in preview. (The script was written by Greg Garcia and my cousin Mike O’Malley!) The audience was a hilarious bunch, Buffett-heads, they showed up wearing Hawaiian shirts, draped in leis, many brought beach balls. They all had a ribald air. (At one point during the show, beach balls dropped from the ceiling, and over the course of the next song, the audience batted it around by hand. It was magical). During the intermission the audience jostled up belly to the bar, swilling back margaritas. This was not your average Broadway audience.

The show had this hilarious irreverent feel, the audience was encouraged to sing along with the well-known songs, and it was a total blast. I was standing with Mike and a couple other cousins (there are so many O’Malley cousins) in the lobby, and I clocked Jimmy Buffett approaching. He had this happy “wow, check out all these people” swagger, and his smile was instantly recognizable. Mike reached out to grab Jimmy as he walked by. He, too, was wearing beach clothes, grinning ear to ear. There was no standing on ceremony. We all were like, “Oh my God the show was so FUN” and he was gracious and happy, he looked like he was having so much fun. The feeling in that Broadway theatre was of a chaotic hilarious party and he seemed right at home. He had time to talk, even though I’m sure the night was crazy with everyone wanting to talk to him. He hung out and just enjoyed the vibes. Because of COURSE Jimmy Buffett hung out and enjoyed the vibes. What else would you expect?

That same night, in the little celebration held in a green room next to the theatre, I met Frank Marshall. The Other Side of the Wind hadn’t come out yet. In fact, it was barely more than a rumor at that point. No announcements yet, just gossip that it *might* be happening, whispers of the possibility along the lines of “I heard it’ll come next year”. If you knew the legend of this so-called “lost” final movie of Orson Welles then … it all seemed too good to be true. But Frank Marshall’s involvement seemed hopeful: it made it seem legit, like it really was going to happen. I saw Frank Marshall in that little crowded room, people drinking cocktails in plastic cups, and I said to Mike something like “Holy shit that’s Frank Marshall – he’s apparently doing the Orson Welles movie – ” So Mike dragged me over to Frank, saying, “This is my cousin Sheila. Talk to her about the Orson Welles movie right now.” before departing to talk to someone else. Bless Frank Marshall, he didn’t even question the command. He had no idea who I was but if Mike says to talk to this lady about the Orson Welles movie, then dammit he will. I think the only thing I said to him was, “I can’t even believe this Orson thing is happening. Walk me through it.” I didn’t even say “nice to meet you.” So he walked me through it. He was so nice, and so into it, and … so happy that I was so happy. I feel safe in saying that. If you’re working on a project like that, I’m sure it helps to meet some random woman who’s like “WHEN CAN I SEE IT OH MY GOD.” I was the opposite of “cool”. I was practically jumping up and down as he told me what was going on.

So that’s the night I met Jimmy Buffett and Frank Marshall in a span of 30 minutes.

Because sometimes life is weird like that.

I was like, “WHO’S NEXT. IS ORSON HERE? BRING HIM TO ME.”

I know how much Jimmy Buffett meant to people. He has one of the most passionate fan bases in the world. I can still see his riotous happy smile as he sauntered up to us in that Broadway theatre lobby. Soaking it all up.

For fans interested in a less anecdotal type of piece, for a piece written by someone more familiar with Jimmy Buffett’s catalog, a piece written by a true Floridian, let me point you towards my friend Larry Aydlette’s beautiful piece: Key West daze: My favorite Jimmy Buffett song.

Posted in Movies, Music, RIP, Theatre | Tagged | Leave a comment

Classic Hollywood + Elvis

Posted on September 3, 2023 by sheila

It’s so nice to see this “Classic Hollywood” archive page on the Criterion Channel with Elvis’ movies included. His movies aren’t usually discussed as part of “classic Hollywood” even though … they ARE part of “classic Hollywood”, or, at the very least, “old movies”, “classic movies”. As I’ve said, his movies exist in their own category, they exist in their own universe un-connected from anything else since they are centered on the Phenom of Elvis’ singular fame – BUT it makes me happy to see him there surrounded by those other great movies. He deserves to be there!

Here’s the piece I wrote for Criterion on Elvis’ movie career.

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“Reach out, take a chance, get hurt even, play as well as you can.” — Hal Ashby

Posted on September 2, 2023 by sheila

It’s his birthday today.

One of the leading lights of the New Hollywood, bringing fresh energy into a landscape that was busy cracking-apart, and holding on tightly to old stable familiar forms. He believed in the crack-up. He helped the crack-up accelerate.

He started out as an editor, and had a very successful career at it. He won an Oscar for In the Heat of the Night. He and Jack Nicholson went way back, a relationship that would bear major fruit later on. It’s all about relationships. He edited many of Norman Jewison’s films – The Cincinnati Kid, The Russians are Coming The Russians are Coming and The Thomas Crown Affair … and if you think of that last film, think of how much of it had to do with the cuh-ray-zee way it was edited. Case in point:

He directed his first film in 1970 – the wild rule-breaking The Landlord, starring Beau Bridges and Lee Grant. It got great reviews.

His second film was the iconic Harold and Maude, a high watermark of all kinds of genres, all mashed together. It’s hilarious, it’s tragic, it’s romantic, it’s dark. It sacrifices nothing.

I came to Harold and Maude late. It was one of my dad’s favorite movies, and he told me about it, and started laughing so hard about all the suicide attempts he could barely continue. I hadn’t seen the film so I was like … “The suicide attempts are … funny?” Seeing Harold and Maude finally, at the Music Box Theatre in Chicago, is one of my most memorable moviegoing experiences, for multiple reasons, but the movie itself was central. I’ve written about it before. I had never seen it. I went with a guy I was dating (let’s be honest: I was stringing him along) – and Ted, whom we both took acting classes with. The weird thing was: I made a decision that night – quietly – to cut the guy I was dating to the curb, and the OTHER guy, whom I didn’t really know, is still a really good friend of mine. We just Zoomed a couple weeks ago. Weird how things work out. I wrote about this whole thing here, a long ago piece when I used to write personally here. Here it is boiled down: Both men were so excited to see Harold and Maude through my eyes. I flipped out, and in the scene where Uncle Victor’s pinned-up sleeve salutes all on its own, and gets caught in the repeat salute, I started laughing so hard and so loud it actually became a disturbance.

I couldn’t stop. Ted was DELIGHTED – he was totally into how much the scene hit me – while the guy I was dating “Shhh”-ed me. I kicked him to the curb the next time I saw him. You NEVER “Sh” me especially when I’m LAUGHING. There’s a reason Ted and I are still friends. We went into that night just acquaintances, and we left friends. And we’re still friends. I credit Harold and Maude. And Uncle Victor’s poor arm.

After Harold and Maude Hal Ashby went on a tear of absolutely incredible films, American classics, all. The Last Detail, Shampoo, Bound for Glory, Coming Home and Being There. WHAT. This was done in just 8 years. Incredible.


Hal Ashby, Warren Beatty, Robert Towne, talking “Shampoo”

Ashby died at the age of 59, his career was cut tragically short. In a perfect world, he would have had another productive 20, 25 years in him. He was such a singular and unique artist. Pure counter-culture, but with a sharp disciplined eye. He did whatever the fuck he wanted; his filmography is so impressive. He is heavily imitated, to this day.

Hal Ashby was the genuine article: anti-establishment, a hippie, against “The Man,” a man who marched to the beat of his own drum, and in so doing he helped transform the industry. This is the way it’s done. Create work that matters to you. Do what you want to do. Don’t try to fit in. Fuck that. Make your own way.

For Sight & Sound, I wrote about the final shot of Shampoo, my favorite final shot in all of cinema:

Hal Ashby died way too young. Huge loss. But what an impact!

Posted in Directors, Movies, On This Day | Tagged | 13 Comments

“The simple act of paying attention can take you a long way.” — Keanu Reeves

Posted on September 2, 2023 by sheila

In 1987, Interview did a small profile on Keanu Reeves because River’s Edge had dropped and he was the hot new thing. I saved that profile all these years because something about him really struck me, then and now. (To those of you just discovering him, welcome.) He spoke with a stilted yet earnest tone. He didn’t talk like other up-and-comers. He sounded unique, his own man. That short interview ended with a quote from him that also struck me:

“You know my favorite role? Mercutio – you know, in Romeo and Juliet – ’cause he’s so full of passion and wisdom and anger. I don’t know. I just live out here in L.A., man. Been out here two years from Toronto. L.A.’s a twisted place. It’s a varied animal. I guess it’s like free ways. Get it? Two words. I don’t know. Nothing’s for free, huh?”

There it is. That tone. It caught my attention. Especially since I had gone to see River’s Edge (because of course I did). His words showed an odd grace and trust in himself.

Plus it made me think: He’s smart. Smart actors know that Mercutio is a WAY better role than Romeo.

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An Ode to E.B. White and a Very Special Teacher

Posted on September 1, 2023 by sheila

I post this every year at the beginning of the school year, in honor of all the teachers out there – the teachers I know, and the teachers I’ve had.Teachers are on the front lines of every boneheaded political ideological battle that comes along. You can’t put a value on teachers. Here’s to all the good teachers out there. Your job is so important. You make a huge difference. Here is my favorite teacher-story of all.

An Ode to E.B. White and a Very Special Teacher

Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led to the north. The sun was just coming up over the hills on his right. As he peered ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction.
— E.B. White, Stuart Little

I have a friend who grew up in a nightmare of chaos and abuse. He and his siblings clung to one another through childhood, putting their heads down and enduring the reckless environment into which they were all born.

This essay is an ode to a teacher. A teacher who saved my friend’s life. She did not drag him from out of a burning house, or leap into the water to save him from drowning, but what she did do was recognize the light within him, his essential self, and she made it her business to protect that light. She made it her business to make sure that that light survived.

My friend is extremely intelligent. His parents did not value this in him. On the contrary, it threatened them. It implicated their ignorance. To add to this, my friend, from a very young age, knew he was “different” from other boys. Somehow. How many other boys enjoyed putting hot-rollers into their sister’s Cher-doll’s hair? How many other boys could recite Meet Me in St. Louis? How many lip-synched to Barbra Streisand albums? He couldn’t put a name to what was different because he was just a little boy. But he knew it was there.

The teasing he got was brutal. Teasing of this particular kind has one goal and one goal only: to crush what is different. The difference in him was like a scent and other kids could smell it. His father could smell it. To avoid the terror that school had become, he would stay home from school playing with his sister’s Barbies.

The little boy reached the second grade. He had already learned some very hard lessons. He had already experienced cruelty, betrayal, fear. All of the cards were stacked against this person, and the end of his story could have been a terrible one, were it not for his second grade teacher. Her name was Miss Scofield.

I did not meet the “little boy” until college when we became fast friends, and in my view, Miss Scofield was directly responsible for the fact that he actually went to college (the first one in his family to do so), that he broke the expected pattern of his life and got out, saying No to what seemed to be his logical fate.

What did Miss Scofield do to accomplish this? It’s very simple. She read E.B. White’s Stuart Little to the class.

And my friend, then seven years old, had what can only be described as a life-changing experience, listening to her read that book.

Stuart Little is a mouse, born to human parents. Everyone is confused by him. “Where the heck did he come from?” My friend, a little boy who was so “different” he might as well have been a mouse born to human parents, a little boy who was, indeed, smaller than everybody else in the class, listened to the story unfold, agog, his soul opening to its implications.

First of all, for the first time, he really got reading. By this I mean the importance, and the excitement, of language. Language can create new and better worlds in your head. Language is a way out. To this day, my friend is a voracious reader. I will never forget living with him while he was reading Magic Mountain. We lived in a one-room apartment, and so if I wanted to go to sleep and turn the lights off, my friend would take a pillow into the bathroom, shut the door, curl up on the bathmat, and read Magic Mountain long into the night. I believe that this voraciousness is a direct result of Miss Scofield reading Stuart Little to the class.

It had to be that particular book, too. Stuart Little is “different”. Just like my friend was “different”. In hearing the words of that story, my friend rose above the pain, the torture, the abuse, and realized that there were others out there who were “different” too, and that different was good!

His major revelation was this: Stuart Little’s small-ness ends up being his greatest asset. That which seemed like the biggest strike against him is not at all in the end! My friend, in his seven-year-old epiphany, embraced his size. Small didn’t mean weak. Not at all.

Somewhere, in his child-like soul, he knew he was gay although he did not have a word for it. He didn’t know yet what that would mean for him, in his life, but it certainly isolated him at school, and it isolated him at home. Hearing about the adventures of Stuart Little my friend realized that the life that he was living right at that moment, the narrow circle of endurance, did not have to be his life. He suddenly knew, for the first time ever, that everything was going to be okay. He was going to be okay.

As Miss Scofield read the story to the class, my friend had the unmistakable sensation that she was reading it directly to him, and only to him. It was such a strong feeling that he was able to describe it to me vividly, years and years later. The rest of the class fell away, and it was as though she had singled him out and was trying to give him a message of some sort, through the words of E.B. White. That book was for him, and for him alone.

By the time high school came around, my friend had learned that wit was the best defense against teasing. His humor, his sarcasm, became his armor, and it also was the way he made friends. In a very short time, he acquired a Praetorian guard of sorts, high school football players, who thought he was hilarious, and who protected him in the locker room, pushing anyone off who tried to mess with him.

His high school friends, all intelligent, artistic, interesting people, pushed him to apply to college, because they all were applying to college. So he applied to college. He got in. He went to college. He graduated college. He lived a life where he didn’t just survive, he thrived.

Years later, many years after college, he ran into Miss Scofield in a breakfast restaurant in Rhode Island.

She (a teacher to the core) recognized him immediately even as a grown man. She said, “My goodness – it is so wonderful to see you! I have heard so many wonderful things about what you are up to – how are you?”

They talked for a while. He caught her up on his life and she listened and supported him. She still was invested in what had happened to that small special boy from her classroom many many years before.

Then, in a burst of open-ness, my friend said to her, kind of blowing it off, laughing at himself, “You know … this is kind of silly … but I want to tell you – that I remember so vividly you reading Stuart Little to the class. It had a huge impact on my life … and … I know it’s crazy and everything, but at the time, I truly had the feeling that you were reading it just to me.”

Miss Scofield looked at him then, smiled, and said, “I was.”

Posted in Books, Personal | Tagged , | 43 Comments

“I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.” — Lily Tomlin

Posted on September 1, 2023 by sheila

It’s her birthday today.

I wrote about Lily Tomlin (and other talented actresses who come from comedy/improv) in my “Present Tense” Film Comment column. She is on another level. I mean …

A couple years back, as part of an ongoing conversation series with Mitchell about various people we love, we discussed Lily Tomlin. I would pick a name at random and ask him to describe said person in “one word.” We took it from there.

LILY TOMLIN

lilyt

SOM: One word.

MF: Truth.

I’m a little obsessed with her right now. I just read that she’s playing somebody’s mother on a new show. She’s still working. I think she is always telling the truth even in her most absurd characters. There was the character she used to do who was a Midwestern housewife, and it was such a funny character but it was so truthful. Or Edith Ann. It didn’t matter how absurd they were. They were absolutely the Truth about that kind of person.

MF: My favorite movie of all time is Nashville. She does such beautiful stunning work in that movie. There’s that scene with her watching Keith Carradine singing “I’m Easy”. It’s an amazing scene where he’s singing and all the women in the room think it’s about them, but she knows that it’s about her, and she’s the only woman in the room who is right.

MF: But she also knows that she knows that she’s right, and that there are other women who think it’s about them, but she just quietly sits there and takes it in. It is so gorgeous. Or when she leaves after they have sex and he calls another girl to try to hurt her feelings. She doesn’t even let it hurt her feelings. She knows what’s going on. She is incredible in Nashville. I just always find her truthful, even in silly movies. In 9 to 5, when she’s talking on the phone to her kids, “Listen, there’s more than one peanut butter and banana sandwich in the world …” She’s also funny as hell.

MF: It’s interesting, too. She was one of those people as a kid I was so attracted to, not attracted to sexually, but I was drawn to her, and it’s interesting that she turned out to be a lesbian. There was something very comforting about her that I recognized when I was young.

That whole Laugh In graduating class was so interesting: Jo Anne Worley, Ruth Buzzi, Lily Tomlin, Goldie Hawn.

MF: What an interesting fun group that was. But even back then, Lily stood out.There was a time when she was so hip. People say to me all the time, “When are you going to write something?” No. I’ve tried for years, I throw it away. And I have always felt that I was Lily Tomlin waiting for my Jane Wagner. Lily Tomlin creates these characters that speak the truth, and Jane Wagner’s been writing her shows for years. Her partner. Jane Wagner gives shape to the stories that Lily Tomlin wants to tell, which is fascinating, and I don’t think a lot of people know that. Lily Tomlin is creating the character and then Jane Wagner is fleshing out the structure of the story.

Lily Tomlin always tells the truth, like most comedians do. The best comedians are always telling the truth.

MF: Two quick anecdotes that I love about Lily Tomlin.

After 9 to 5, Lily Tomlin spent years going to red carpet events wearing a Dolly Parton tour jacket. It’s so adorable to me. Like, years have passed since she was trying to sell 9 to 5, but she loved Dolly, and she felt that that would be an appropriate thing to wear to a red carpet. It wasn’t, Lily, it really wasn’t. But she did it anyway because she loved Dolly.

MF: And when she did Big Business with Bette Midler, one of the things they talked about was how differently they worked. Bette is very off the cuff. She likes to rehearse but she likes to improvise in every take. Not necessarily the lines, but how she does them and what she’s gonna do and what her gestures are going to be. Whereas Lily Tomlin plans her shit out. Her shit is so specific. Watch her performances. Her gestures, her hand movements, they were chosen, in much the way we were just talking about in old-school movie acting. She’s very aware of her shape, her gestures, and what story they tell, and what story she is trying to tell with that shape and those gestures. Even in Nashville, the way she holds herself, the way she sits, the way she turns her neck. These are all choices. And Bette Midler was more like, “All right, let’s go for it.” I think that’s interesting: to be able to tell the truth having practiced it. The truth comes out for her after specific choices. I think there’s probably a trial and error of what works and what doesn’t, but once she’s ready to commit it to film, she has made some choices.

SOM: Speaking of Jane Wagner, there’s Moment to Moment, that horrible movie she did with John Travolta, which Wagner wrote and directed.

MF: It’s so bad. She’s had such an interesting career. She’s been under the radar. She came out as a lesbian and nobody noticed. Her career has never been based on the fact that she was a sex symbol, which is why Moment to Moment was a ridiculous attempt. Why are you trying to make Lily Tomlin into the romantic lead? And if you are, then be honest about it and put her with a girl. I mean, obviously, they never could have done that, and certainly John Travolta was not going to do it with a guy. But it is interesting seeing the two of them together. They have the same haircut in the movie. You can’t discern them. Who are these people?

MF: That should have been either a story about an older man on the beach and then this pretty boy who shows up, or an older woman and a younger woman. If Travolta’s character had been a pretty young girl, that could have been a hell of a movie. But even in that, Lily Tomlin seems to be telling her own truth, it’s just a terrible movie.

SOM: I mean, think of Prairie Home Companion.

MF: I don’t know why Tomlin and Meryl Streep don’t make a movie a year together. You know how Claude Rains did a bunch of films where he was the father of a brood of young girls? Or Ma and Pa Kettle had a series of films? Why don’t Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin do a series of films where they play those sisters traveling around having adventures?

SOM: Why doesn’t the industry work like that anymore?

MF: I know, it doesn’t.

SOM: I don’t understand why the industry doesn’t recognize gold and keep trying to do it. I’m not talking about sequels and blockbusters, I’m talking about something else.

MF: They see literally gold, in box office, and that’s what they go after. They’re not looking for that intangible moment of: “What’s that magic going on between those two actors?”

SOM: Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep together, it’s impossible to separate them out, you don’t know who to look at.

MF: And let’s face it, that’s not easy to do with Meryl Streep. Lily Tomlin, who started as a sketch comedian slash actress, holding her own with Meryl Streep says a lot about who Lily Tomlin is as an actress.

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Review: Ernest & Celestine: A Trip to Gibberitia (2023)

Posted on September 1, 2023 by sheila

I reviewed the sequel to the 2012 Oscar-nominated Ernest & Celestine for Ebert. It is really kid-friendly with very positive messages about friendship and support and sticking up for yourself, but there’s some stuff only adults will perceive: subtly done, the opposite of heavy-handed. Beautiful charming animation too: homey, lived-in.

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In the Welter of packing-Chaos, there is one comforting constant:

Posted on September 1, 2023 by sheila

It will be the last thing I take down, and the first thing I put up on the other side.

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Bing and Billie and Frank and Ella and Judy and Barbra: an interview with author Dan Callahan

Posted on August 31, 2023 by sheila

I’ve interviewed Dan about almost every one of his books! It’s almost a ritual now. His latest is, so far, his most ambitious: a book about, of course, Bing Crosby, Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland, and Barbra Streisand: how these people influenced each other, influenced American (and world) culture, through their voices and their art. Dan is so so good on the details. I interviewed him about the book for Ebert.

He goes into this legendary team-up in great detail so for reference, and also just for sheer pleasure:

Bing and Billie and Frank and Ella and Judy and Barbra comes out next week!

Posted in Actors, Books, Movies, Music, Theatre | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments