Well, dear readers, I suppose it’s my birthday. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I suppose it’s my birthday and never one to lie about my age, I am now sixty-five. I can no longer sing When I’m 64 because I’m 65. I could sing When I’m 65 but it’s not a song so what would be the point? So, 65 seems like a really big number, age-wise, and yet I don’t even know what that number means. I feel good, I don’t think I look 65, I certainly don’t think I act 65 and yet I am 65. I don’t feel any different than when I was 25 or 35 or 45 or 55. Well, I say “oy” when I get out of bed in the morning and sometimes I drool, but that’s not so bad. I’d like to lose twenty pounds, of course, although Karen Morrow, at my surprise party, said something that actually made sense to me – she said one of the reasons I still look younger than my years is because I’m not as thin as I used to be. Her point is, if you’re too thin then you look gaunt and gaunt makes you look older. So, I think I’m going to stop fretting and if I lose five or ten pounds I think that’s going to be as far as I go. I’m not fat and I’m in reasonably good repair so why should I starve myself or go crazy with this stuff at this age. I’ve earned the right to not worry about it and therefore I shan’t. But before we get to my birthday, which is today, first I must tell you about yesterday.
Yesterday, the day before my birthday, was a very nice day. I got up very early and was to our location at nine (in the yard at Marissa Jaret Winokur’s house). We chose the view we liked, set up, rehearsed the scene a couple of times and then began shooting. It all went very quickly and I just really liked Adrian Zmed a whole lot. I think he’s going to come and do a Kritzerland show – he seemed very interested in that possibility. Tom Griep did a fine job sitting and reacting to what he was hearing. We were all finished by eleven.
After that, I came home and dropped off the laptop and the hard drive and then I went and had a quesadilla and a small fries at Jerry’s Deli, both excellent. Then I picked up no packages and an important envelope, did some banking, and came back home. I answered e-mails, had some telephonic calls and just kind of relaxed. Then I went back to the mail place and picked up two packages that arrived after I left the first time, one of which was from dear reader FJL and his ever-lovin’ Skip, a birthday present filled with Godiva truffles. I did have to eat four immediately. The helper came by and got some invoices, and I transferred today’s footage onto my computer so I can watch and make choices for the editor. The editor told me he finished editing episode four, so I’ll see that first thing Monday morning and we’ll do whatever finessing we need to and lock it. Then I sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a screener for a film entitled This is 40, starring Mr. Paul Rudd and Miss Leslie Mann, and written and directed by Mr. Judd Apatow. I have to say, this kind of film and its humor is just not for me. In the first five minutes we’ve heard the word Viagra about thirty times (as if it’s a funny word) and the word “dick” even more – we continue to hear the latter word every three minutes. It’s as if Mr. Apatow is twelve – that’s the level of that kind of humor. We get passing gas noises (I’m guessing Mr. Apatow just writes what happens in his own house – not that I need to know that) since Miss Mann is his real-life wife and his two daughters play the lead characters’ two daughters in the film. It’s all very crass and, for me, not in a funny way. In fact, I didn’t laugh once because the film wants to have it all ways from Sunday – crass and gross humor and then we’re supposed to care about these characters. I certainly didn’t, and I can tell you that at two hours and fourteen minutes the film is about two hours too long. The actors are okay. Mr. Rudd is like all actors his age, but thankfully he doesn’t mumble. Miss Mann is okay but, again for me, okay doesn’t really cut it. And when Albert Brooks playing a comedy role isn’t funny, I think we know where to look and it’s not in Mr. Brooks’ direction. The one person who comes off pretty well is John Lithgow, who really is just a superb actor. He’s asked to play a kind of inane character but he somehow manages to do it acceptably. There are people who rave about Mr. Apatow’s comedies – he’s one of these pop culture references people, as if the mere mention of Lost, for example, was a cause for outrageous humor – it’s not. There’s a song that opens the film that is almost note-for-note Makin’ Whoopee, only it’s not Makin’ Whoopee. The most interesting thing I learned about Mr. Apatow after watching this film was when I looked him up on the imdb and found out that his mother was Tami Shad who was married to Robert Shad, who was a record producer. In fact, I met Miss Shad in the Bay Cities days because she, at that time, owned the Ava and Mainstream Records catalog and we tried to make a deal with her to issue that stuff. Anyway, it’s all competent and, for me, completely uninteresting and unfunny.
After that, I watched the first thirty minutes of another screener, entitled Amour, a film in French by director Michael Haneke. I’ve only seen one of his films – Cache – and I didn’t really care for that one at all. So far, Amour, which is about two elderly people who’ve been married since they were young – played by Jean Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva (both eighty or older). The film is a rumination on love and death and so far I’m enjoying it despite its glacial pace and austere style.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I really must get a good night’s beauty sleep.
Today, as you may have heard, is my sixty-fifth birthday and I will begin the day doing what I normally do on my birthday – a jog of some sort. After that, I’ll be lazy and I’ll do a little contemplating and I’ll do more notes on what I hope will be the next novel and it is my fervent hope and prayer that my sixty-fifth year will be a year filled with health, wealth, happiness, creativity, and all things bright and beautiful. I shall hopefully pick up some packages, and then I’m attending a holiday party at Doug Haverty’s, after which I’ll mosey on over to Genghis Cohen to meet up with some friends to celebrate Ye Olde Birthdaye. I will, of course, have a full report.
Tomorrow, I shall relax, do book notes, and probably enter fixes into two sets of liner notes and then that packaging can get finished and we’re hoping on Monday that all three of these packages can go in for approval. At seven EST the new episode of Outside the Box goes up at Broadway World. Monday, I’ll be in the editing room for a few hours, and then in the evening the LACC alumni association is having a little holiday partay. The rest of the week will be spent in hoping to get approvals on the three packages, having a couple of meetings and getting ready for actually having two weeks all to myself.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be the birthday boy, I must hopefully pick up some packages, I must attend a holiday party, and I must celebrate with friends at Genghis Cohen. Today’s topic of discussion: I don’t think much of today’s “comedies” – so, I’m interested to hear from you dear readers which of the last decades’ comedies you actually find funny. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland as a newly-turned sixty-five year-old Jew whose fervent hope and prayer is that his sixty-fifth year will be one filled with health, wealth, happiness, creativity, and all things bright and beautiful.