Well, dear readers, it is Saturday, a day of rest for me, with nary a thing to do – I got all my shipping done yesterday and today is mine all mine. Yes, Virginia, they can’t take that away from me, try as they might. Oh, I have to have an important telephonic conversation at some point, and I have to write a little blurb for the Alex Theatre’s next newsletter, but other than that, I’m just going to stop and smell the roses or the coffee or the ketchup. I do have to print out a copy of Ye Olde Booke and take it to proofer number two, but that won’t take but a half-hour. Why does this suddenly sound like a busy day? This day is mine all mine and they can’t take that away from me and should they try, well, damn them, damn them all to hell. Speaking of hell, yesterday was another oddball day – some good, some not so good, some fun, some not so fun. The day began with me getting up. That was good, if not fun. We then had our alumni association meeting and that was good and fun. We discussed many things, and then put on mailing labels and stamps on about 250 postcards announcing our upcoming general meeting on July 9th. I then took them to the post office and mailed them, got my Express Mail refund, and shipped a couple of packages. After that, I went to Fed Ex and shipped Miss Emily Skinner some CDs. After that, I had lunch with Mr. Barry Pearl and we had a fine time and I have a suspicion that he will be involved in the next incarnation of The Brain From Planet X. After that, I went to a three-hour rehearsal with Miss Joan Ryan. I got there just before our start time at two. By two-thirty-five she hadn’t arrived, so I left. At three, she called me and told me for some reason she thought our three-hour rehearsal ran from three to five. There are some things that you simply have no response to, and that was one of them. After that, I came home and answered important e-mails and such, and then I finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched the final two episodes of The Sopranos. The penultimate episode was one of the best ever. I’d heard that the final episode had left many viewers angry, but I didn’t read why or what the end was. I know many thought that the Soprano family, or at least Tony, was going to get offed. Instead, what Mr. David Chase gave us was an episode of The Sopranos that just happened to be its final one. No big weepy scenes, no emotional craziness (well, one guy got his comeuppance but good). The final scene was completely surreal and it could be read in many ways (I have since perused the Internet and seen some totally wacko interpretations, as well as some interesting ones). Spoiler alert NOW for those who intend watching the ending at some point – read no further. Actually, I’m not giving that much away when I say that the episode literally just stopped. How one wanted to interpret that abrupt cut to black is left to the viewer. As I watched the scene, I just kept thinking how odd it was, with stylized dialogue, weird behavior, people we don’t know coming into the diner (my first guess was that these were Feds and Tony was going down), and Meadow, the daughter, having repeated trouble parallel parking). Some have yelled that it was a cop-out happy ending. How they could think this is anyone’s guess. There’s only two things that could be happening – either Tony is going down with the Feds, or he’s about to be whacked. The final shot is Tony looking up as Meadow (who we’ve just seen heading to the front door of the diner – we presume it’s Meadow) enters and there’s an abrupt cut to black and ten seconds later, the credits roll. Somehow it worked for me – it was very in keeping with the entire feel of the series, and much of the final nine shows had a surreal quality to them. In fact, few have pointed out that almost every episode of the final nine opened with Tony either lying in bed or asleep in bed. Again, the acting was superb from everyone except the reprehensibly awful Peter Bogdanovich – I guess you could say it’s the character, but those who’ve seen any of Mr. Bogdanovich’s awful interviews or heard his awful, pedantic and egocentric commentaries knows he was cast for the simple reason that he’s disgustingly smug and sickening. Perfect casting, really, so I guess they did good, but every time he was on screen I wanted to hurl vile epithets at the screen. I’m sad there will be no more Sopranos, although, I suppose, one should never say never. I then watched a motion picture on DVD, one I’d never seen, entitled The L-Shaped Room, starring Miss Leslie Caron, Mr. Tom Bell, Mr. Brock Peters, and Miss Cicely Courtenage. I was, I must say, completely taken with the film – the writing and directing of Bryan Forbes was excellent, the characters well-written and fairly complex, and the performances wonderful. Miss Caron was deservedly nominated for an Oscar (she won the Golden Globe and BAFTA Awards that year) – she’s endearing, strong, funny, and extremely touching. It’s her finest performance. Tom Bell was okay, Brock Peters more than okay, but Cicely Courtenage almost walked away with all her scenes, as an elderly actress past her glory days. What a terrific performance she gives (the reveal of her Lesbianism is subtle and very well done). The score is by a film composer called Brahms (the piano concerto), with jazz bits composed by John Barry. The transfer was decent enough save for the twenty or so one-frame white flashes that occurred throughout – a major screwup in the transfer room.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because she of the Evil Eye doesn’t come today and the day is mine all mine and they can’t take that away from me, baby.
Miss Susan Egan is thrilled with her CD and had only three completely minor requests, which will take all of five minutes to implement on Monday or Tuesday. So, all I really have left is to prepare the hidden track.
This upcoming week is going to be killer, with many rehearsals and many, many meetings, and getting the final corrections in the book and then getting the book off to some people I hope will blurb it, and then working with Mr. Grant Geissman on the design of the book proper.
I’m hoping to know more about the NYMF possibility an Monday or Tuesday. I think our decision has to be made very quickly and I’m just trying to find out all the details of what is required of us. If it were to happen, things are going to get very nutty and hectic for all of July and August, then September, October, and beginning of November will be totally insane.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, get a good night’s sleep, I must be lazy, I must print out a novel, I must deliver a novel to proofer number two, I must have an important telephonic conversation, and I must have a relaxing rest of the day. Today’s topic of discussion: We’ve had our favorite final images in film, but what are your favorite opening shots of a film – a shot that has just immediately drawn you into the film and somehow made you think you were about to see something that might be a classic? Of course, the obvious example would be both Citizen Kane and Touch Of Evil, both directed by Orson Welles. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and don’t forget – they can’t take that away from me.