Well, dear readers, I just got a Partridge in a Pear Tree. It was on my doorstep, left by someone. Why they didn’t leave a family of Partridges is anyone’s guess because, frankly, I would have much rather had a Partridge Family in a Pear Tree. Do you know I have never actually seen a pear tree? I’ve seen the apple tree – that was a very good show – but I have never seen the pear tree. I had an orange and lemon tree – lemon tree very pretty but the orange tree was kind of a lemon, tree-wise. So, exactly where are these pear trees? Are they indigenous to a certain region or are they everywhere and I just haven’t noticed them? Well, now I have my own pear tree and a Partridge to boot and, in fact, I just booted the Partridge and the Partridge began singing “I Think I Love You.” Go know. There was a note with it, too – it was from someone called True Love. Where was I? Oh, yes, the notes, the notes. Well, I had quite a nice, relaxing day yesterday, doing nice, relaxing things. I sat around in my smoking jacket, my leopard-spotted dickie, and my bunny slippers. I was a sight for sore eyes. I know this because someone with sore eyes came by and said I was a sight. I didn’t really do much, other than approve some packaging and then visit the Kritzerland designer’s daughter who will be converting some of the LACC Brain footage to Quicktime files for uploading to You and Tube. I had some eggs and a bagel at Jerry’s Deli, came home and did some more work on the computer, then finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Yesterday, I watched a perfectly disagreeable motion picture on DVD entitled Rivals, a “film” by Krishna Shah, starring Joan Hackett, Scott Jacoby, and Robert Klein. I wanted to see it because it was shot in NYC in 1972 and supposedly had great location shots. While there were a few, Mr. Shah was such an inept director you never really say anything well. The story was, well, about a youngster, maybe twelve, who would like to be with his mother, if you get my drift. When the mother begins dating Robert Klein the boy is not happy. It’s all rather silly and pointless, and there is one sequence where the young boy has sex with his naked babysitter that could never be filmed today. But, in 1972, as Cole Porter so aptly said, anything goes. Poor Miss Hackett has a succession of the ugliest clothes ever put on film – one horrid outfit after another – I hope they weren’t her own clothes. She’s her usual good self, Jacoby was good, and so was Robert Klein. Everything else about the film, including the score by Peter Matz, was completely inept. Still, it got released and has at least five people on the imdb who think this piece of cheese is a neglected gem. Right.
I then watched a motion picture on Blu and Ray entitled Videodrome, starring James Woods and Deborah Harry, directed by David Cronenberg. It’s not my favorite Cronenberg film (The Dead Zone is, followed by Pogue’s The Fly), but it has its moments. It was very radical back when it was made, but time hasn’t been all that kind, although a few of its themes are still quite potent today. Like many of Mr. Cronenberg’s films, there are some really nauseating visuals. Mr. Woods is very good, Miss Harry is adequate and it’s clear why she didn’t have much of an acting career post this film, and the score by Howard Shore works well. The transfer is excellent.
Then I had a couple of long telephonic conversations, including one with the very nice actor and friend of FJL, William Parry. Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I really must get my beauty sleep, whilst the Partridge sings to me, “C’mon, get happy.”
Today, I shall send packaging on one of our titles off for approval, I shall do a jog, I shall ship a package or three, I shall hopefully pick up a package or three, I shall do errands and whatnot, and then I shall attend a Christmas partay at Theatre West.
Tomorrow, the helper and I will do a Costco run, and then we have a CD release partay for Bukowsical somewhere in the Bank of Bur. It was arranged by the writers, and Kritzerland is donating some foodstuffs. I also will be having a visit from Mr. Art Man, who wants to show me some things, but unless he’s up for trading, we will not be doing any business this trip.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, get packaging approved, I must jog, I must ship a package or three and hopefully pick up a package or three and I must attend a Christmas partay. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your all-time favorite Alan Jay Lerner songs, written with his various and sundried collaborators? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland whilst being serenaded by a Partridge, which I’ve named Keith.