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June 5, 2019:

YES, WE HAVE NO BANANAS IN THE KEY OF B

Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, this week is flying by, like a gazelle in a horseless carriage racing down Main Street in the middle of the night whilst singing, Yes, We Have No Bananas in the key of B.  I also will tell you here and now and also now and here that I finally caught up with Co-oP, the mockumentary lampoon of the Company cast album recording documentary by D.A. Pennebaker.  I found it singularly unfunny, just as I find anything with the name Lorne Michaels as producer singularly unfunny.  If you’re going to spoof something, and one of the things is the songs of Stephen Sondheim, you better not litter your spoof songs with false and terrible rhymes.  But frankly, everyone is dressed to look like their real-life counterparts, it’s basically just a copy of the original film and somehow that’s supposed to result in a howlingly funny show.  For me, that’s lampoon without a point.  But musical theater FANatics LOVE it, just as they LOVED every second of Fosse/Verdon and anything else that’s about a musical.  Is it accurate to the Company documentary?  Sure.  Does that make it funny?  Not for me. Yes, We Have No Bananas in the key of B is funny.

Yesterday was funny and irritating and then funny and then irritating, most of the irritation coming from stupid things on the computer moving slowly and stupidly.  I was up at ten after seven hours of sleep.  Once up, I did all the usual morning things, and then I just waited for the call from Julie Kirgo about going to the auction house.  But in the meantime, Sami’s mom said to just come there (they live five minutes from the auction house), so I did that very thing.

Sami’s dad had made some spaghetti Bolognese (homemade pasta and everything), so we all had a little of that and it was quite yummilicious. We had a fun visit and talked of many things, although we did not talk of cabbages and kings.  The Julie texted me that they were on their way, so about fifteen minutes later I moseyed on over to the auction house.  Julie and her movers showed up a little while later and unloaded all the goodies, and there were a LOT of goodies.  So, now they’ll collate everything and make a master list, figure out the starting bids and reserves, and then it goes into their next Hollywood auction, which was supposed to be in July, but which just yesterday got pushed to November.  What I’m happiest about in all of that is that it will be called The Nick Redman Collection.

Then I headed home.  Once here, I packed up the one-inch videos and one three-quarter-inch tape.  I did some work on the computer, and then it was time for me to mosey on over to the transfer place.  Once there, we put up the reel labeled sub-master – and that’s what I was praying it was, a submaster of the entire Weekday Heroes documentary. Alas, it was not – it was just a reel of the main titles.  The other reels were just the raw footage from the show.  The edited master is lost, somehow.  It was in both my Varese office and my subsequent office, but somehow it just disappeared.  Now that everything is organized I’ll go out there and look through everything again. My only other choice is to find and transfer the three-quarter-inch tape of the show.  But I’m not sure that’s good enough to put on DVD – certainly it’s not good enough for Blu-ray.  But I’d also have to find all the other three-quarter-inch tapes that all the clips came from, as those would all be used as extras.  We’ll have to see.  The tape should have been on a shelf in the garage with my other three-quarter-inch tapes, but it isn’t.

Then I stopped at the mail place and got a couple of packages, then went to In ‘N’ Out and brought home a couple of cheeseburgers, since the pasta we ate was only around three or four ounces.  I ate the cheeseburgers, revised and added to some of the Group Rep commentary, watched the Co-oP thing, listened to music, then went out and put gas in the motor car – and yes, of course the gas station was jammed with people at nine o’clock at night.  I gotta tell you.  After that, I listened to the first fifteen minutes of the Adriana audio book. Earlier, I’d sent the gal me reading some Patrick Bronstein, and she kind of captured that flavor.  I was mostly pleased – a few mistakes along the way in terms of leaving out a word here, adding a word there, so I made notes on all those things and sent them to her.  The only real acting note I had was for the character of Margaret, Adriana’s mother.  She was reading it too passively and nicely.  I explained that Margaret was a little more caustic, which makes their banter much more pointed and funny.  So, she’ll send me a little Margaret test today.  Otherwise, I enjoyed it, I must say and I have said.

Today, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on.  I will finish finessing the commentary, certainly, I will eat, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, and go out in the garage and try to find the other tapes, which may or may not be there.  The new helper will come and bring her truck and we’ll cart a lot of this garage stuff out to her place so it can be organized and looked through easily.  I really need a lot of the junk I don’t need out of here.

Not sure about tomorrow either – I think there may be a meeting somewhere, and I’m doing Donald’s radio show in the evening. Friday, I’m going with Kerry O’Malley to see a singer at Vitello’s.  Saturday is a Group Rep rehearsal for the fundraiser, Sunday I can rest, I think, Monday is a stumble-through for the cabaret, and we play it on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, finish finessing, eat, hopefully pick up packages, try to find stuff in the garage, and then relax.  Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like.  So, let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, where I shall croon Yes, We Have No Bananas in the key of B.

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