Well, dear readers, this week is already flying by like a gazelle in a hot rod, and it hasn’t even begun yet. Go know. I will definitely have the need for someone to whisper sweet nothings into my ear this week. When one has a busy, busy week, sweet nothings are the ticket, aren’t they? So, I hope people in my neighborhood aren’t surprised if I suddenly go up to them and ask them to whisper some sweet nothings in my ear. The last time I asked someone to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, they whispered, “Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero.” Some people are so literal. Or, maybe they were obsessing about Zero Mostel. You know, I have no clew as to what the HELL I’m going on about. And yet, on I go, clewless. Speaking of clewless, yesterday was exactly what I wanted it to be. Nothing. Yesterday just sat there like so much fish, and so did I. Oh, I got up, I took a short drive, I ate some reasonable foodstuffs, and I did have a few telephonic conversations, and I did upload some stuff to our NYMF page on the NYMF website (www.nymf.org), but other than that I just sat on my couch like so much fish, dreaming of sweet nothings being whispered in my ear.
Yesterday, I managed to watch three count them three motion pictures on DVD and they were three of the most excruciatingly bad but oddly barely enjoyable films I’ve ever seen, all part of the Cult Classics series from Warners. The first excruciatingly bad but oddly barely enjoyable film I watched was entitled Skyjacked, starring stalwart Charlton Heston, along with James Brolin, Roosevelt Grier, Nicholas Hammond, Mariette Hartley, Yvette Mimieux, and my darling, adorable Miss Susan Dey. The motion picture entitled Skyjacked is about an airplane that is hijacked. Why they didn’t call the movie Hijacked is anyone’s guess. In any case, this motion picture is terrible. That’s about all you can say. Mr. James Brolin gives an eye-rollingly bad performance as a Viet Nam vet gone crazy. Stalwart Mr. Heston is the stalwart pilot. The actual hijacking is over at the one-hour mark, and yet, the film goes on for another forty-five minutes. The oddest thing about Skyjacked is that wonderful character actor John Fiedler’s entire performance is dubbed by another actor trying (and failing) to sound like John Fiedler. The second excruciatingly bad but oddly barely enjoyable film was entitled Hot Rods To Hell, starring Mr. Dana Andrews, Miss Jeanne Crain, and some wild and crazy young ‘uns including Miss Mimsy Farmer, who’s a real hellcat on wheels. The writing in this film makes Ed Wood look like a genius. Every character behaves in ways that no sane human being would behave. The poor actors have to grin and bear it. The mid to late 60s saw former stars truly having to slum in stinkaroos like this. There is basically not one redeeming thing about the film – the acting from everyone is horrifyingly awful, and the fact that the film was directed by the once-interesting and excellent John Brahm, is the saddest thing of all. But, one can take pleasure in the performance of Miss Mimsy Farmer – she’s a hellcat on wheels, you know. The third excruciatingly bad but oddly barely enjoyable movie was entitled The Big Cube. Boy, if I thought Skyjacked and Hot Rods To Hell were bad, nothing could have prepared me for the horrorshow that is The Big Cube, starring – I’m sorry – slumming Lana Turner, Richard Egan, George Chakiris and Dan O’Herlihy and a bunch of Mexican actors dubbed into English, this film is so bad on so many levels that you just sit there agog, oh, yes, you just sit there agog, with mouth agape, and arms akimbo, shouting at the TV screen, “What is it, fish?” The film does have some nudity (not that common in 1968), so that’s always a plus. Poor Miss Turner “acts” as if she were still at Fox or Metro in the 50s, and somehow she did get some gowns by Travilla. Mr. Chakiris plays a med student (at thirty-eight he was a little long in the tooth to be a med student) who likes to make LSD sugar cubes for his nearest and dearest friends, who then suck on the cubes and FREAK OUT and have TRIPS. Eventually, even Miss Lana Turner takes LSD and FREAKS OUT and has TRIPS. Then she goes onstage and does a play that Mr. Egan has written to try to get her memory back (don’t ask). By the end of this film my mouth was akimbo and my arms were agape. Interestingly, the transfers on all three films are excellent. The Searchers has color that is completely off, Rio Bravo has color that is completely off, but The Big Cube and Hot Rods To Hell have PERFECT COLOR. Someone working in the telecine room at Warners is the funniest person in show business.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because the day will soon be upon me and I must be rested and ready and rarin’ to go.
Yesterday, we forgot to welcome in July, so here’s a hale and hearty welcome to July – we welcome July with open arms and closed feet and wish everyone a happy, healthy, prosperous month filled with wonderful things.
Today, I have an early-morning meeting with Miss Alet Taylor, followed by an hour in which I have to make about twenty telephonic calls, followed by a two-hour rehearsal with Miss Joan Ryan, followed immediately by a one-hour meeting of the alumni association board, followed by home sweet home and more telephonic calls.
Tomorrow will be more of the same, and the days thereafter will be more of the same and then on Friday evening I will be attending the opening night of the revamped Can Can at the Pasadena Playhouse.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, meet, eat, make telephonic calls, rehearse, meet, eat, and plotz. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite drug-related movies and what are the worst drug-related movies you’ve ever seen? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and do take a moment and whisper sweet nothings in someone’s ear.