Well, dear readers, this week is flying by, like a gazelle in a Commando Cody Rocket Jacket. I was hoping that these last few weeks of the year would slow the HELL down, but they don’t want to. These weeks are contrary, if you get my meaning. The Contrary Weeks – that’s the title of my new novel. Why can’t the weeks ever cooperate? These weeks just go their own damn way and I, for one, have had it with these contrary weeks. But enough about me. Speaking of me, yesterday was a rather pleasantly pleasant bit of business. I woke up around nine, did some fancy footwork around the home environment, did some fancy fingerwork on the computer, then toddled off for a late breakfast with my pal, Miss Lauren Rubin. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so we caught up whilst eating excellent foodstuffs at Hugo’s. After breakfast, I went home, packaged up some items, but didn’t get around to shipping them (they’re going out today), went to my mail place where there was one package and some birthday cards, took my clothes to the dry cleaners (the wet cleaners were too busy), and then came back home, where I did a lot of work restructuring a song. After that (it took about two-and-a-half hours), I was done for the day and the day was done for me. I then sat 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 Dr. Crippen, a Brit film about Dr. Crippen, a real-life real person who was convicted of killing his wife and cutting her up into various and sundried bits and pieces so he could be with his young lover. From the box art you’d think you were in for a terrifying horror film, but what you get instead is veddy British – a courtroom drama with multiple flashbacks told in a soap opera-ish way. No murder is show, no cutting up the body is shown, it’s just a whole lot of chatter for ninety-one minutes. The actors are very good, though – Donald Pleasance is the hen-pecked Dr. Crippen and he is, as always, solid. Coral Browne is Mrs. Crippen, and she’s so annoying that long before the doctor does his deed you’ll want to beat him to the punch. Samantha Eggar (several years before her breakthrough performance in The Collector) is good, and very beautiful. The film held my interest, but it’s slight and I don’t think I’d ever need to see it again. The transfer starts off with very weak contrast (too light), but gets better around a third of the way through.
I then watched the second motion picture on DVD, which was entitled The Possession Of Joel Delaney, starring Miss Shirley MacLaine and Mr. Perry King as the title character. I’d missed the film when it came out in 1972, but do remember it was not well reviewed and that it completely tanked at the box-office (in the US it was a Paramount release). People on the imdb all talk about how they saw it on cable or video as children (what parent would let their young child watch this thing is anyone’s guess) and how it gave them nightmares and how they still think it’s so scary. I suppose it might have been scary or at least better if it had had any other director than Waris Hussein, who, for my money, is just not good. The liner notes that come with the DVD would lead you to believe it’s some sort of lost classic – it isn’t. Oh, let’s face it, everything is a lost classic to someone, I guess. It’s got some interesting pre-Exorcist things in it, but that’s about it. Someone on the imdb talks about the “decapitations” as if those actually happened on the screen – of course they don’t. You see the obviously fake heads AFTER the fact, which is hardly the same thing. And the last ten minutes of the film are a little sick for my taste. Then there’s a “surprise” little shocker at the end. The film could certainly have benefited from better photography and direction, and certainly would have benefited from a better musical score – the one that’s present is by Joe Raposo, a wonderful songwriter, whose forte was obviously not scoring dramatic films. It would have been a whole other kettle of fish with a Goldsmith score or a Jerry Fielding score or even Quincy Jones or Lalo Schifrin – not that it would have made it a good film, but it would have been better. The transfer is a little on the brown side, but the photography is typical for Arthur Ornitz and I’m sure it didn’t look much better than this when originally shown.
What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst we try to get these last three contrary weeks to slow the HELL down.
Today, I have to get crackin’ very early for a ten o’clock meeting in Culver City with an executive from EQUITY, along with the head of the LA Festival of New Musicals. I’m looking forward to our discussion.
After that, I have a lunch meeting with Miss Linda Purl and Mr. Kevin Spirtas about a new project we’re embarking on, that we’re all very excited about. After that, I have a little meeting here in the afternoon, and then the rest of the day and evening is mine all mine. Of course, despite all best intentions, I STILL haven’t chosen my selections to read for Saturday.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, have a morning meeting, a lunch meeting, and an afternoon meeting. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite films of Shirley MacLaine, an actress I always find very appealing and good. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, as these contrary weeks continue to fly by, like a gazelle in a hot air balloon.