Well, dear readers, I have just about had it with this infernal heat. This infernal heat is like an infernal inferno – or is it an inferno infernal. I know not, I care not, I only care that this heat is beginning to get on my nerves. Maybe if we just ignore the heat it will go away. In any case, I have just about had it with this heat and that’s all I’ve got to say on the matter other than I have just about it had it with this heat. Speaking of heat, yesterday was hot. I know this because when I jogged at nine-thirty it was already eighty-five degrees. I don’t remember exactly what went on, but from the time I got back from jogging (approximately ten o’clock) to the time I arrived at Stanley’s for lunch, those two-and-a-half hours flew by like a gazelle rollerblading on Ventura Blvd. I know I did a bunch of stuff, but I cannot remember what that bunch of stuff might be. Lunch at Stanley’s was divoon and Miss Cindy Williams and I had a swell time. I cannot say what was discussed, oh, no, I cannot say what was discussed at this time, but stuff was discussed and the stuff is potentially very interesting. After lunch, I did a few errands, then came home and wrote a page or two, made a few telephonic calls, and then my Musical Man came over with all the lead sheets for The Brain From Planet X, which I’ll be sending along to dear reader elmore so that he can now brilliantly orchestrate the show. After that, I simply had to sit on my couch like so much fish.
Last night I watched two count them two motion pictures on DVD. The first motion picture on DVD was entitled Sybil, and was, in fact, a TV motion picture on DVD and a long three-hour one at that. What a fine TV motion picture Sybil is. The kind they simply don’t know how to make anymore. Sally Field is remarkable as the woman with thirteen personalities due to her childhood trauma. Joanne Woodward is strong and caring as her doctor. Martine Bartlett is horrifying and all too real as her sickening monster of a mother. Or should that be mother of a monster? The rest of the cast is equally fine, but it is Sally’s show all the way. Everything about the film holds up beautifully, from Stewart Stern’s script to Daniel Petrie’s simple but effective direction (he replaced the original director after a few days – does anyone know who the original director was), and Leonard Rosenman’s haunting score. Aces all around. I then watched the second motion picture on DVD, which was also about a monster of a mother – Mommie Dearest, in its new Special Edition. First of all, I like the film very much. Frank Perry did a terrific job, and Faye Dunaway is great as Joan, and Diana Scarwid is great as older Christina. All the women’s roles are well cast – but the men are not (with the exception of Howard da Silva). I have never seen such bad male casting in a major film. I adore the Henry Mancini score. And the sets and costumes are gorgeous. The transfer is, sadly, exactly the same transfer as the previous DVD, which seems to be what Paramount is doing these days. I have been a staunch supporter of Paramount, but they have really made some awful faux pas of late, including their dreadful new transfer of Breakfast At Tiffany’s. There is no excuse for giving us the same transfer, especially when the transfer is too dark and off a used internegative instead of the camera negative. So, what are we left with? Three “documentaries” done especially for this DVD. These travesties are Written, Directed, and Produced by Laurent Bouzereau and they are the nadir of his specious and ridiculous “career.” This guy needs to be put out to pasture. Every time an interviewee says something, Mr. Bouzereau cuts to a line or bit in the film that comments on it in some idiotic way. That is Mr. Bouzereau’s thing, apparently. Another example of his complete and utter ineptitude: Diana Scarwid’s first time on camera for her interview – she says one line and then Mr. Bouzereau cuts away from her and shows about three minutes of stills while Miss Scarwid talks. Here’s a novel idea, Mr. Bouzereau – SHOW THE PERSON WHO’S TALKING. That’s what we want to see. It’s just plain old common sense. I actually yelled at the TV on several occasions. Why they use this guy is beyond me – most of the people who do these things are talentless hacks, but Mr. Bouzereau is the most untalented and inept of them all. And boo to Paramount for using him. I haven’t listened to the John Waters commentary track.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Or am I someone else all of a sudden? Suddenly I feel like I have thirteen different personalities. Who am I now? I believe I am personality number eight – George. No, I’m not – I’m Gene. Well, I was Gene but now I’m June. Oops (spoo, spelled backwards), June has bit the dust and now I’m Billy Bob. Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst I try to figure out who I am now.
I feel that today may be a pasta kind of day. I feel that because I am now Luigi. Okay, okay, I’m BK again. Whew! That’s scary when that happens.
Today I must ship a few packages and tonight I must sup with a friend, but other than that, I think I shall mostly be writing.
I don’t to do errands, I don’t want to do errands, why should I, I don’t want to, I won’t, you can’t make me – sorry, that was my third personality, a little brat named Sherman.
Perhaps they’ll make a TV motion picture about me and my thirteen personalities – call it I Led 13 Lives, the story of BK. If I led only three lives, then I could be Herbert J. Philbrick and have my own TV series and hunt for Communists and reds.
I have now officially gone off the deep end, I’m afraid.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, jog, write, ship, sup, and I must attend to all thirteen of my personalities, including Shep, the Zebra. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like. So, let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we? Shep, are you there?