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September 23, 2008:


Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, this week is flying by, like a gazelle eating egg whites. Why don’t we just say it’s Wednesday instead of Tuesday, since it will be Wednesday in but a moment. Then again, if we say it’s Wednesday instead of Tuesday, havoc will reign supreme, and the world will run amok and there will be chaos and confusion, not necessarily in that order. So, we’ll just call it Tuesday although it would rather be called it. What the HELL am I going on about? Don’t I have notes to write? Isn’t the clock ticking away, inexorably moving ahead, which is how we got in this whole flying by mess in the first place. Speaking of the first place, yesterday was a weird sort of day but not a bad weird, just a weird weird. I don’t mind a weird weird, but I do mind a bad weird. I got up early and did the long jog, which wasn’t weird and was actually sort of pleasant, and I even went a little faster than I usually do. I then had to shave and shower and them Mr. Barry Pearl arrived and we picked up his friend Mike, and off we went for our dining adventure at Langer’s deli. We got there at noon and got a nice booth. The boys love to order tons of food and they did not disappoint. For the table, they ordered kishka, lattkes, and chopped liver. I had one tiny bite of each, just to get the taste. I ordered my usual number one, pastrami on rye with Russian dressing and cole slaw on the sandwich. I wonder if Cole Porter liked Cole Slaw? Barry had a normal pastrami on rye with, of all things, mayonnaise. Mike had a corned beef on rye. The food was, as it always is, amazingly amazing. Langer’s also has the absolute best pickles anywhere. After that, I came home for but a moment, and then I went to the Dale of Glen to drop off Murder At The Grove at Mystery and Imagination Books. They loved the cover, I must say. I then did some errands and then finally came back home. I had to do some editing on an article for our LACCTAA newsletter, and then I had several e-mails to answer, and I had two long telephonic calls. Finally, I sat on my couch like so much fish and had some carrots and a peach after which I felt peachy and carroty.

Last night, I finished watching Enter Laughing. One thing becomes clear – Carl Reiner wasn’t a great film director – his film is very static and Reni Santoni seems to be channeling Carl throughout. The middle section of the film, which involves a very long sequence with Janet Margolin is just flabby and not well done, even though Miss Margolin, as always, shines. Shelley Winters is Shelley Winters, and David Opatashu, an actor I really like, isn’t at his best here. Where the film shines is in all the theater scenes. Jose Ferrer has never been better than in this film – in fact, he’s brilliant and I was laughing out loud during every scene he was in. Elaine May is equally great, and completely unique. Richard Deacon is his usual droll self. Reni Santoni tries hard and at times he nails the laughs really well, but there’s something that just doesn’t quite work about it, and I’m sure Alan Arkin in the play was much better, or so I’ve heard. Jack Gilford is a treasure as Mr. Santoni’s boss, although those scenes get tiresome after a while. Michael J. Pollard is simply the weirdest actor ever, but he did make me laugh. Don Rickles is also funny in his few scenes. And there’s a great little sequence with Santoni learning his lines on the subway – the great Mantan Moreland sits next to him and he’s a lesson in how to time lines and be funny with very little to do. The score by Quincy Jones is bouncy and fun.

Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because we may as well enjoy Tuesday while we can ’cause it’s going to fly by in but a moment because we’re in the midst of the flying days. The Flying Days – wasn’t that a circus act?

Today, I shall do the long jog bright and early, then I have some writing to do, the some telephonic calls to make, including a thirty-minute conference call about the upcoming Bacharach benefit. After that, the rest of the afternoon will be spent on finalizing the layout and content of the LACCTAA newsletter. I still could use some of those potent excellent vibes and xylophones today for no annoying annoyances. They would be much appreciated, so send ’em my way.

Tomorrow, I have a long work session (and really the last long work session they’re going to get out of me), and I have a whole slew of errands to do. The rest of the week is meals and meetings, not necessarily in that order. I also have some TIVO viewing to catch up with.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, write, have a thirty-minute conference call, have something amusing to eat, and then I must work on the LACCTAA newsletter and attempt to put the sucker to bed. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your all-time favorite books, plays, and films about the theater? The ones that really capture what is magical about it and really capture the essence of what theater is? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst we prepare for more of The Flying Days.

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