Well, dear readers, who thinks this is a good idea: Phone Booth (the movie) in a concert hall? If you haven’t seen the movie Phone Booth, it’s one of those Joel Schumacher films, from a script by the wacky Larry Cohen and as stupid as it is, it’s kind of fun to watch. The bulk of the film has its “hero” in Manhattan at a phone booth talking to his tormentor. So, someone has the genius idea that a concert pianist of about thirty years of age (Elijah Wood), who’s been retired for five years due to a meltdown of some sort, is making his comeback in a concert hall on a famous piano. He gets a call from someone who tells him he’s going to kill his wife or even the pianist if the pianist makes one mistake in playing a certain piece of music. The caller is played by John Cusack. That’s the plot. We ultimately come to find out that if a certain succession of notes (four bars at the end of a solo piano piece) is played perfectly it unlocks something in the piano and delivers an actual key, which, I suppose, is to some box or something with a lot of dough – that part was really not spelled out well. So, let’s say someone was dumb enough to actually think the concept was worth turning into an actual movie – well, someone WAS dumb enough because I watched it last night on Netflix – it was entitled Grand Piano.
Now, this is perhaps the worst movie ever made. And therefore, critics Peter Travers and Stephen Holden, who both gave sort of favorable reviews to it, while admitting it was a completely preposterous film, will have to live with those reviews – it reveals everything you’d need to know about both of them. The film opens with a humungous number of credits to financial institutions and film financing companies – quite endless, really. I’m sure the director read the script, which is one horrible scene after another, and thought, well, this movie’s going to all be about me and how I can outdo De Palma in my cleverness. Because that appears to be what he’s doing. Forget telling a coherent story or having the talent to even know what a coherent story is – no, just make it all about you and then wait for the inevetible “Hitchcock style” comments. Let me tell you something: Hitchcock had style to spare – but he also knew how to tell a story brilliantly.
Once this pianist takes the stage, he plays a piano concerto all the while conversing on the phone with his tormenter. I’m not making this up. First of all, if you’re making a film about a concert pianist, it’s best to do a little research. I don’t ever recall attending a performance of a piano concerto in which the piano is all the way upstage on a platform behind and above the orchestra. I realize that the director had to do it so that the audience watching the concert wasn’t as aware that his pianist is yammering on the phone while he’s playing. But it is so ludicrous that you just sit there scratching your head. And how about the pianist getting up and leaving the stage during a section of the concerto where only the orchestra is playing. I’m not making this up. It happens multiple times. How about the conductor, at the conclusion of the first movement of the concerto, doing a comedy act for the audience – yes, he talks to them, introduces the girlfriend – I’m not making this up. The pianist leaves the stage several more times during the concerto. And he has the score on the piano. I suppose that some concert pianist somewhere has done that, but I have never seen it – ever. And how about this one: A concert pianist whose feet are planted firmly on the floor for the entirety of his performance – that’s right, his feet never touch or go near the PEDALS. Needless to say, it’s not really possible to play a piano concerto without using the pedals.
After the pianist finally plays the solo piece and then hits the wrong note at the end so the key isn’t found (he does this because no one in the audience will know that he’s played a wrong note – I’m not making this up), then he and Cusack get into it while the pianist’s wife is asked to sing – she chooses Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child, which, happily, the conductor knows how to play on the piano. More miraculously, the entire orchestra seems to know the song. As she sings Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child in that “now” way of singing (it’s not the actress, but a singer she’s lip synching to), you begin to wish that Cusack had offed her. As if all of that weren’t bad enough, the ending actually gets worse. But I’ll stop there and just say that I highly recommend this film to all you dear readers – it is must-see TV and it’s free on Netflix. You will not believe your eyes and ears. Mr. Cusack continues his streak of flops with this one – despite Mr. Travers and Mr. Holden actually attempting to say this film was fun and well done, the film’s box-office take for it’s entire run? Something like $22,000. I’m not making this up. Watch it – watch it now.
Prior to that mind-numbing watching experience, I’d gotten about five hours of sleep, maybe six. I was up at six and out of bed at seven-thirty, to answer some obnoxious woman’s e-mail about It’s a Wonderful Life. I tried to be calm, but she got worse and then I let her have it full force. She actually wrote to me and said that she could behave like that, that that was perfectly fine, but that I couldn’t. Really? Because the customer is always right, no matter how offensive and disgusting they are? I don’t subscribe to the customer is always right newsletter, I’m afraid.
Then I had some other e-mails, one of which was a sort of apology – something to do with LACC, although not the big issue. I then went down to LACC to pick up the Li’l Abner daily comic strips book I’d lent the set designer. Then I came home and had an irritating conversation with UPS – they lost a package containing 100 CDs, and after waiting their eight days and them not finding it, we expected a check cut to us (package was fully insured). But no – first it had to go to another department, that we were told cuts the checks but that has a day to do their own investigation. They asked the helper for some documentation, which she faxed them. That day went by. The next day went by, and then she was asked for another piece of documentation. At that point, I’d had it and got on the phone myself – I can’t say I was nice, but I think the supervisor understood my frustration. We faxed her the paper. But do they now cut the check – apparently not. I’m not making this up. Now it goes to the “adjuster” and they might have some questions. I told the supervisor I was done with questions, that we’ve given them everything they could possibly need, they’ve admitted to losing it and they need to cut the check. We’ll be checking on that today, every two hours if we have to. Once the check is cut they have ten days to get it to us. What a scam. They lost the damn package – pay the insurance – it’s that simple.
I then has some chicken corn chowder and bacon and eggs and toast for my meal o’ the day. That was all pretty light. Then I picked up a couple of packages, including this month’s pie of the month – some apple berry thing I haven’t looked at yet. I finessed the Kritzerland commentary, had some telephonic conversations, and finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
After watching Grand Piano, I watched a Blu and Ray entitled Tarantula, an import disc from Germany. I saw Tarantula at the Picfair Theater back in 1955 and it really scared me – not the tarantula itself, but what happened to poor Leo G. Carroll’s face, due to being injected with evil serum. I believe I was with my brother. As soon as they’d cut to Mr. Carroll I would put my hands over my eyes. My brother would then tell me when it was all right to look – and I’d uncover my eyes to still see Mr. Carroll’s deformed face. That was my brother back then. It was fun to see it again, especially in its proper screen ratio. The element used is certainly not pristine, but detail is fine, there’s too much weird-looking grain (probably due to the element being down the food chain from the camera negative), and there are a lot of opticals, too. I was happy with the disc.
After that, I had two low-cal, no-fat hot dogs on buns – a total of 320 calories, so for the day probably around 1200 or 1300 total, which is fine for weight loss. Then I played on the computer for awhile, answered some e-mails and that was that.
Today, I have an early lunch at noon in the Wood of West – I really don’t even remember what it’s supposed to be about, but go I must. I’m only going to have a Diet Coke and not eat at all, unless they have a shrimp cocktail or something totally not caloric. After that, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, then I have to watch two motion pictures so I can write liner notes about them, and then I’m supping with the Staitmans.
Tomorrow, I’m not sure what’s happening, although I’m pretty sure I have to see some show or other at some point and I surely hope they remind me. The weekend is pretty free, I think, except for a meeting on Sunday. And I may have something to do Sunday evening but I’m waiting to hear about that. Next week is busy with Kritzerland rehearsals and such.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, have an early lunch, hopefully pick up packages, watch two motion pictures, and have dinner with the Staitmans. Today’s topic of discussion: What is the single dumbest movie you’ve ever seen – the one where you just sat and scratched your head and if you tried to tell someone about it you’d say “I’m not making this up?” Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, after which I shall arise – I’m not making this up.