Well, dear readers, it’s almost the end of the long, long weekend, and it’s almost the end of May, and June is just around the corner and I cannot not even process that, frankly. June, for heaven’s sake. Almost halfway through the year I like to call 2007. Yes, even though I keep beating a dead horse, this year is flying by like a gazelle from Lithuania. A Lithuanian Gazelle – that’s the title of my next novel. In any case, let’s enjoy the remnants of May while we may, and let’s start sending the most excellent xylophones and vibes for a really wonderful June and, of course, we’ll hope that June is bustin’ out all over. Speaking of bustin’ out all over, yesterday was a day that just moseyed on by, taking its own sweet time. I managed to sleep until ten and then I got up, went to the garage, and began going through boxes. I managed to get through a few and I found one set of papers I really needed to find, so that was great. I also found a few other interesting items, like a 16mm IB Technicolor print of The Red Balloon, and a like new 16mm print of Chris Marker’s masterpiece, La Jetee. Also found a print of a movie called City of Fear that I don’t think I ever even ran – also a print of half an Ed Sullivan Show with Liza Minnelli. I may try to bring one of my projectors in the house and give these things a run. That took a few hours, and then we had a wonderful alumni association meeting (I couldn’t have asked for a more fun and more organized board than Joanna Erdos and Cason Murphy). Our proposed fourth board member didn’t show, and I think we’re done with that because I’m not going to chase down people – they’re with us or they’re not, it’s that simple. After that, I finally went out and had some dinner at Casa Vega – I got in just before the madness began. Had I arrived ten minutes later it would have been an hour wait. The food was, as always, quite yummilicious. After that, I came home and sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I began watching a motion picture on DVD entitled Letters From Iwo Jima, a film of Clint Eastwood. However, within five minutes I’d dozed off, so I stopped and I’ll go back to it another day. I can say right off that I wasn’t too thrilled with Clint’s decision to drain all the color from the film – I hate that sort of style choice for a film that takes place in the past. They had color back then, you know. But, since I was in a Clint frame of mind, I decided on a Clint double-header. First I watched Dirty Harry, which I watch at least once a year. What a great film. It’s one of the most ripped-off films in history, but none of the ripper-offers have done it better. Everything about it works beautifully – the script, Don Siegel’s taut direction (probably not taut enough for today’s current ADD generation), everyone’s performances especially Clint, Andy Robinson (one of the great villain performances), John Larch, John Vernon, Harry Guardino and Reni Santoni. You can just imagine what this film would be like if made today – and one shudders at the thought. One of the best things about the film is Lalo Schifrin’s terrific score, but what’s really great about it is WHEN it’s used and when it’s not used. Whole sections of the film go by without music, so that when the music does come in it actually means something and evokes an emotion in the viewer. Today, it would have wall-to-wall thumping and crass music and it would be awful. I think there’s yet another transfer of Dirty Harry coming our way and we can use it – this one is okay, but too dark. I then watched Clint’s directorial debut, Play Misty For Me. I like, but don’t love the film. Clint was obviously feeling his way on his first film, and some of it just lays there like so much fish and is awkward as can be. In fact, what works splendidly about Play Misty For Me are all the scenes with Jessica Walter. It’s the endless scenes with Donna Mills where the film falters – sadly, there are just too many of them, and they are horribly directed and just go on and on and on. And there’s an entire ten minute sequence that begins with a four minute montage where we listen to the entirety of Roberta Flack singing The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, and then have to have a long and mostly pointless excursion to a jazz festival. If you cut the latter entirely, and you cut the Flack song in half, the film would be about seven minutes shorter and would be much better for it. But those scenes with Walters disintegrating and becoming crazier and crazier are all great. The transfer could use sprucing up for sure.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I actually have a very early morning meeting with a friend, so I must get my beauty rest.
Here I am in section two without a thought in my head. Oh, I’m here with a song in my heart, and a poem in my ear, but not a thought in my head. I hate when that happens. Today, I have an early morning meeting with my friend, Mr. Jon Burlingame, and then I’m coming back home to continue organizing things and cleaning up the book room – I did quite a bit yesterday and shall finish today. It already looks much better, plus everything is being put where I can easily find it. After the book room is finished, then I’ve got to do the same for the living room, where sheet music has been piling up for a month.
I’ll be doing a little DVD trading today, as well, and then I shall have a bunch of about to be released movies to watch. I will try to watch at least two of them this very evening.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, meet, eat, organize, pick up DVDs, watch DVDs, and relax as much as possible before another busy week begins. Today’s topic of discussion: Have you ever written a fan letter to someone you admire and/or just wanted to write? If so, who was it to, did they respond, how was the response, and did you ever ultimately meet the person? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, as the long, long Memorial Day weekend comes to a close.