Wandering aimlessly through Laura’s apartment, his sense of uneasiness growing, as he almost visibly avoids Laura’s portrait, the detective (Dana Andrews) – who may very well be the most naturally taciturn man who ever lived – taciturn to the point of rudeness – gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He can only bear looking at himself for a second. He sees the truth in his own face, the truth all of his pacing is designed to avoid.
Mirrors, man. They WORK.
Marlene Dietrich and Konstantin Paustovsky.
This moment occurred after a concert she gave in Moscow, 1964. She had been blabbing to the press about the revered (and sometimes suppressed) author Konstantin Paustovsky from the moment she arrived in Russia, declaring if she were on a desert island and could only bring one book, it would be Paustovsky’s memoir The Story of a Life. The author must have gotten wind of her comments in the press. He was very ill at the time (and would die a couple years later). So he came out to see her perform. Dietrich wrote in her memoir of her nerves, of how she felt her performance was bad that night. She was trying too hard to impress him. The ultra-cool woman trembled. Afterwards, unexpectedly, in a moment unplanned, surprising her, Paustovsky came up onstage – with much struggle, he was so weak – and when she saw him, she dropped to her knees before him.
This loss is heartbreaking. And unexpected. He was only 57 years old. Tim Wakefield was “Wake”, that’s what everyone called him. I saw him pitch a couple of times, which was a thrill. His face had this sadness to it – sad eyes – the world on his shoulders – and while this might have been a projection (was a projection), this is what we do to people in the public eye, who matter to us. They’re personal. They are in our lives. This is a very sad day. My friend David did a commercial with Tim Wakefield – and to those of us who KNEW, this was the coolest gig ever, even cooler than a hot little indie film or, hell, an Oscar-hopeful film. He was catcher to Tim Wakefield’s pitcher – wild! – and at one point, Wakefield had to throw the ball and it had to hit David in the head, and David would topple over. Of course, they used a soft ball, much bigger than an actual baseball – and, of course, Wake would hit David in exactly the right spot every single take. Why is this so charming to me? And impressive. And he and David are in the same shot, so you can clearly tell it’s actually happening. I’ve been looking for the commercial to share it, although so far it’s a no-show. If David has a copy, and it’s share-able, I’ll add it here.
I’m so grateful I got to see him in action, his no-nonsense pitching style a fingerprint, distinctly and recognizably his, as all pitchers have. It’s obvious: it’s him. Tim Wakefield threw like it was no big deal – no bells and whistles in his style, no Bronson Arroyo Rockette-kick, nothing fancy – until you looked at the movement of his throwing arm. That thing was a BEAST.
Love you, Wake.
On my Substack, I posted a slightly re-worked piece I wrote for the now-defunct (and off the web, unfortunately) site The Dissolve, on Zachary Wigon’s surprisingly harrowing The Heart Machine. When you hear the plot, you might think you know what it is going to be. But John Gallagher, Jr. gives such an amazing performance of an obsessed-to-the-point-of-being-terrifying man: it’s not to be missed. I don’t hear it getting much chatter, if any, so I thought I’d share my thoughts again. Kate Lyn Sheil, someone I’ve written quite a bit about – an actress I really admire, including the roles she chooses – plays the girl in this skewed-Internet-romance-drama. This one I’m putting out for free, so if you’re interested, have a read: Wherever you go, there you are. Unfortunately.
I reviewed Muzzle for Ebert.
Joan Fontaine’s chilling “mirror moment” in the astonishing Ivy (1947). (Joan Fontaine? Playing an evil woman? Really?? YES.) In this moment, dressed in mourning for her husband – who died somewhat mysteriously – hmmm – she avoids looking in her own eyes in the mirror. And then … she can’t help it. You know me and mirror moments. I collect them like a miser. I could have predicted there’d be a mirror moment in Ivy, because mirror moments work so well in material like this, where someone who spends their life lying, or acting a part, is left alone, the mirror beckons (and it’s a great storytelling device, giving us a private moment, where the guard is dropped). This is a really good mirror moment, especially the way she avoids as hard as she can looking at herself – because … she’s a terrible person, really, and has done a terrible thing, and she knows it. The truth of what she has done – and who she is – will be waiting for her in the reflection.
(Streaming now on Criterion. I can’t believe I’ve never seen this before. It’s so GOOD.)
All the headlines mention Dumbledore. and I get it. Fine. But Dumbledore Shmumbledore. Michael Gambon’s stage career was spectacular. He played everything (see him here as King Lear), and when I heard he passed, I thought immediately of a hilarious section in Antony Sher’s excellent book The Year of the King, about Sher’s year of preparation to play Richard III. (I highly recommend the book if you haven’t read it.) There’s a great entry where Sher recounts meeting Michael Gambon in the RSC canteen. Gambon shares some anecdotes about auditioning for Laurence Olivier when Gambon was still a “nobody”, and Gambon’s “big break”. It’s unexpectedly moving. And also hilarious.
Tuesday 21 February
CANTEEN I’m having my lunch when I hear a familiar hoarse shout, ‘Oy Tony!’ I whip round, damaged my neck further, to see Michael Gambon in the lunch queue …
Alan Howard (a previous Richard III at the RSC) is standing in front of him, puzzled as to who is being sent up.
Wonderful seeing Gambon again. He and Howard have been rehearsing a play here. They’ve just heard it’s been cancelled because of the scene-shifters’ strike. Everyone assures us that it will be over by the time we go into studio in four weeks.Gambon tells me the story of Olivier auditioning him at the Old Vic in 1962. His audition speech was from Richard III. ‘See, Tone, I was thick as two short planks then and I didn’t know he’d had a rather notable success in the part. I was just shitting myself about meeting the Great Man. He sussed how green I was and started farting around.’
As reported by Gambon, their conversation went like this:Olivier: ‘What are you going to do for me?’
Gambon: ‘Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘Is that so. Which part?’
Gambon: ‘Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘Yes, but which part?’
Gambon: ‘Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘Yes, I understand that, but which part?’
Gambon: ‘Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘But which character? Catesby? Ratcliffe? Buckingham’s a good part …’
Gambon: ‘Oh I see, beg your pardon, no, Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘What, the King? Richard?’
Gambon: ‘ — the Third, yeah.’
Olivier: “You’ve got a fucking cheek, haven’t you?’
Gambon: ‘Beg your pardon?’
Olivier: ‘Never mind, which part are you going to do?’
Gambon: ‘Richard the Third.’
Olivier: ‘Don’t start that again. Which speech?’
Gambon: ‘Oh I see, beg your pardon, “Was every woman in this humour woo’d.”‘
Olivier: ‘Right. Whenever you’re ready.’
Gambon: ‘ “Was ever woman in this humour woo’d –” ‘
Olivier: ‘Wait. Stop. You’re too close. Go further away. I need to see the whole shape, get the full perspective.’
Gambon: ‘Oh I see, beg your pardon …’ Gambon continues, ‘So I go over to the far end of the room, Tone, thinking that I’ve already made an almighty tit of myself, so how do I save the day? Well I see this pillar and I decide to swing round it and start the speech with a sort of dramatic punch. But as I do this my ring catches on a screw and half my sodding hand gets left behind. I think to myself, “Now I mustn’t let this throw me since he’s already got me down as a bit of an arsehole”, so I plough on … “Was ever woman in this humour woo’d –“‘
Olivier: ‘Wait. Stop. What’s the blood?’
Gambon: ‘Nothing, nothing, just a little gash, I do beg your pardon …’
A nurse had to be called and he suffered the indignity of being given first aid with the greatest actor in the world passing the bandages. At last it was done.
Gambon: ‘Shall I start again?’
Olivier: ‘No. I think I’ve got a fair idea how you’re going to do it. You’d better get along now. We’ll let you know.’Gambon went back to the engineering factory in Islington where he was working. At four that afternoon he was bent over his lathe, working as best as he could with a heavily bandaged hand, when he was called to the phone. It was the Old Vic.
‘It’s not easy talking on the phone, Tone. One, there’s the noise of the machinery. Two, I have to keep my voice down ’cause I’m cockney at work and posh with theatre people. But they offer me a job, spear-carrying, starting immediately. I go back to my work-bench, heart beating in my chest, pack my tool-case, start to go. The foreman comes up, says, “Oy, where you off to?” “I’ve got bad news,” I say, “I’ve got to go.” He says, “Why are you taking your tool box?” I say, “I can’t tell you, it’s very bad news, might need it.” And I never went back there, Tone. Home on the bus, heart still thumping away. A whole new world ahead. We tend to forget what it felt like in the beginning.’
Please read my friend Dan Callahan’s beautiful tribute over on Ebert.
I’m a big admirer of the filmmaker (and occasional actor) Dustin Guy Defa. Currently, many of his shorts and a couple of his features are streaming on the Criterion Channel. I wrote about his 2011 feature Bad Fever on my Substack.
Well, THIS was a blast. Jen Johans had me onto her excellent podcast again to talk about 5 Elvis movies of my choosing! I picked: King Creole, Flaming Star, Girl Happy, Live a Little Love a Little and The Trouble with Girls. We thought this was good timing, since I just wrote a piece for Criterion on Elvis’ movie career. And I wanted to go off the beaten track in my choices – particularly the two later films, Live a Little Love a Little (which I have written about so many times AND I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO) and The Trouble with Girls. These films deserve discovery (not even re-discovery because they were never “discovered” in the first place). So it was super fun to talk with Jen about all of this. She’s an excellent host! So if you have some time, give a listen!
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
A fairly typical crime drama – but the real subject is the new “woke Ireland” and all the tensions social change brings. And the secrets everyone still keeps. I love Aiden Gillen though – always good to see him. I reviewed for Ebert.
