Next Wednesday, the Olympic Torch touches down in San Francisco for a quick sojourn around the Bay area.
But, crowds lining the streets may be less than welcoming.
Thousands of activists critical of the Olympic host are expected to protest in the wake of the recent outbreak of violence in Tibet, for instance.
The Chinese Government has shrugged off the implications, asserting that the demonstrations are merely the actions of a few who are trying to hijack a historical event, to meet their own agendas.
Mayor Gavin Newsom was initially inclined to conceal the route the Eternal Torch would traverse to thwart the protesters' efforts - and ultimately - avoid embarrassment to San Francisco residents.
But, amid an outcry, he finally relented.
The second-term Mayor has called the opportunity to host the relay an extraordinary honor, adding with emphasis that,
"The flame is about sports, not politics."
However, Mr. Newsom is missing the point.
If China hankers to participate in the Global Community, she must observe the rules of polite society.
Until the Human Rights Violations stop in Tibet, protesters should rise up and take every available opportunity to throw a spotlight on the atrocities, until they cease.
Desiderius Erasmus once opined,
"He who allows oppression shares the crime."
Friday, April 4, 2008
Olympic Torch...San Franciscans, to protest!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Anderson Cooper...an underwear fetish? WAAF Rocks!
Spies gossip that Anderson Cooper takes a shower at the gym in a pair of tight white form-fitting spandex boxer-style shorts.
Do you suppose he has a kinky fetish for silky wet fabric against the naked flesh?
Or, is he concerned that if he goes in the buff some sly gym bunny might surreptitiously nab a 360 degree image of the shower scene and stream the video onto the Internet for prying eyes to screen?
News at 11!
To strip or not to strip, that is the question...
Inalienable...Walter Koenig script entertains, solid Sci-Fi Thriller!
The highlight of the Backlot Festival yesterday was undoubtedly the Sci-Fi thriller - "Inalienable" - starring Richard Hatch, Walter Kroenig, and Courtney Peldon.
In the opening scenes - which move along quickly to establish the basic plotline - the audience learns that the lead character (Hatch) is a research scientist who is still recovering from the loss of his wife and child a few years earlier.
When a friend stumbles on a curious specimen among the charred ruins of a meteor, he drops it off for the good doctor to examine; but, Hatch's character - Dr. Norse - is too busy and too sapped of energy to even humor him.
The duffel bag that contains the specimen is tossed aside as the scientist tucks into bed that night for some much-needed rest and relaxation.
The following day, the doctor suddenly feels ill, and is shocked to discover there appears to be a cyst festering in his side.
He turns to a doctor he trusts, who takes an extensive series of tests. Both are startled by x-ray chart results that suggest the unexplained growth may actually be a parasite feeding off Norse's life functions.
The prognosis?
If the growth is surgically removed the doctor may face instant death.
In a curious twist, the scientist ends up giving "birth" to an alien child.
But now, the complications escalate.
The Feds swarm in and place father and "child" in quarantine until the Government can make a determination as to what further action to take to ensure the American people are not in potential danger of alien attack.
The script by Walter Koenig (Star Trek) is tight and well-crafted and makes for an entertaining Sci-Fi thriller.
In particular, I found the courtroom scenes that focus on a myriad of legal fine points (Constitutional issues), and hypotheticals, intriguing and thought-provoking.
Mr. Koenig certainly knows how to stir up the pot.
Richard Hatch turns in a surprisingly believable performance, in spite of the unusual challenges he faces in this role. With dead earnest, and integrity, he acts out the scenario without cliché or melodrama.
The supporting cast rises to the occasion, too.
I particularly found the Judge who presided over the legal maneuverings amusing, bang on in her characterization (played by Judy Levitt); while Mr. Koenig carried off an admirable turn as a villain with aplomb.
"InAlienable is a work of love by all that were involved," Walter Koenig stated. "I'm extremely proud of our production team, cast and crew."
They should be - it’s a little gem.
Lucille Ball...hard-knocks, B-movies, and lettuce days!
Lucy's glam days
The wide-screen experience eluded me over the years, 'til now.
As part of its tribute to legendary filmmaker - Arthur Freed - the 3rd Annual Backlot Festival screened the Lucille Ball classic and I was there to savor every minute of the experience.
Lucy stars with Red Skelton and Gene Kelley in this screwball comedy - one of a handful of "B" movies the screwy red-head was featured in - just before her career took off after the successful launch of "I love Lucy" in the early fifties.
Actually, it's a hoot to watch Ms. Ball (pre "Lucy" days) saunter across the screen in a swirl of elegant gowns and outrageous designer hats and tangle with the likes of comic genius, Mister Red Skeleton.
The legendary star holds her own, admirably.
One of my favorite lines in the film?
On the subject of romance, Ms. Ball quips.
"I'm too poor to get married for love."
In this hilarious piece of studio pap, Mr. Skelton charms. Here, his timing is impeccable; especially when it comes to quick repartee, pratfalls, and off-kilter shtick, right up the alley of the former vaudevillian.Gene Kelley is a revelation, too.
In a handful of breezy dance numbers, he executes each step with such grace and style.
In fact, it's difficult to fathom any other dancer of this or any other era, managing the painstakingly intricate step sequences (save for Fred Astaire, of course).
Although Lucy became one of the most powerful women in Hollywood - by virtue of her holdings in Desilu Productions with husband Arnaz - life was not always a snap for the performer.
Lucille Ball was born August 6, 1911 in Jamestown (New York).
Fresh out of the gate, Ball took a job as a model, using the stage name, Diane Belmont.
Moderately successful, Ball became an Earl Carrol showgirl and landed modeling gigs for popular fashion designer, Hattie Carnegie.
But the career climb was not always rosy.
In her "lettuce days" in New York - when she was a struggling dancer - Lucy nearly died of malnutrition, according to one biographer.
Jobs were hard to come by, after all.
As luck would have it, one day Ms. Ball was striding down a busy New York street, when she bumped into a casting woman who took pity on her.
The woman offered Lucy a job as a "cigarette girl" (popular gigs in those days).
There was one hitch, though.
The young starlet would have to pack up and head to Tinsel town.
With a bit of consternation, she headed west, reluctantly.
When she arrived in Hollywood, it didn't escape Lucy's attention that many of the female stars were extremely focused on their "Glamour Queen" images, which worked to her advantage.
Whenever a film required a comedy sketch, or a shenanigan or two that were a bit wacky, the prissy grand dames turned their noses up at the job and flatly refused to sign on.
After all, they didn't want to sully their classy siren images.
But the young upstart jumped at the chance to work.
So, plum roles fell into Lucy's lap in the comedic vein, because she'd willingly take a pie in the face, or throw her heart into in some silly on-camera fluff, to please a director.
Within a short while, Lucy was signed to a contract at one of the studios.
Shortly thereafter, Ms. Ball was turning out a batch of "B" movies, fans hungered for in those early days.
Lucille Ball's first role was a cameo in Eddie Cantor's musical, "Roman Scandals".
Ball later landed bit parts the following year in low budget features such as "Blood Money" and "Kid Millions".
By the late 1940's, the aggressive young starlet appeared in no-less than sixty films (!), and included star turns with Katharine Hepburn, Ginger Rogers and Bob Hope.
On one fateful project ("Too Many Girls") Ball fell in love with her co-star, the dashing Desi Arnaz.
The newlyweds often found themselves on opposite sides of the country because of work assignments, which put a lot of stress on their relationship.
Although Lucy filed for divorce in 1944, the two managed to sort things out before the split was finalized by the court.
However, the experience turned out to be great fodder for their creative well.
Taking a cue from their tumultuous relationship, Ball and Arnaz pitched an idea to CBS about the unlikely marriage of a wild red head to a Cuban band leader.
Network execs surmised the American public would never buy the scenario - so Lucy and Desi formed their own production company called "Desilu" - and took the show on the road.
Within a short span of time, the dynamic duo managed to turn the idea into a popular vaudeville act. Then, on the heels of this success (still without a nod from CBS) Ball and Arnaz proceeded to finance a pilot episode of the show - which they summarily titled - "I Love Lucy".
The sitcom premiered in October of 1951 and became the most popular television show in America, running successfully on Television for six straight years.
During the course of the run, "I Love Lucy" won more than 200 awards, which included five coveted Emmys.
In retrospect, it's important to note that at one juncture in her early bid for stardom, the legendary star was advised to die her hair blond or brunette.
"You'll never make it in the business with red hair," agents and managers whined.
Ironic, that.
Ms. Ball became the most famous redhead in show-business history.
The moral of the story?
To thine own self be true!
Shine a Light...Scorsese doc illuminates surface but falls short!
"Shine a Light" igniting the silver screen in IMAX is a visual experience you may not want to miss - if you're a Rolling Stones fan - in particular.
In the fast-paced documentary, with Oscar-winning Director Martin Scorsese at the helm, a penetrating lens slices through layers of the mystique with razor-sharp precision close to the bone.
But, ultimately, the doc misses its mark.
By the end of the film, Jagger remains as elusive and mysterious as ever.
But don't say Scorsese didn't try.
In an insightful effort to add a bit of depth and breadth to mix, Scorsese handily juxtaposed old news clips, with scintillating stage footage, to great effect.
After all, the mesmerizing image of Jagger - prancing, pouting and sashaying about - is still potent stuff.
By today's standards, though, Jagger pales a tad.
Indeed, a younger generation in a feeding frenzy over titillating sensual MTV images ( and used to slick choreographed numbers by boy-bands and the like) may find Jagger a bit tame.
But, the pop icon still awes.
In what amounts to a tribally-inspired sexually-charged strut - a bold-faced tease, if you like - Jagger still manages to captivate and hold the excited crowd in his thrall.
Years ago, when the celebrated Pop Icon was queried about the phenomenon of his success, Jagger (then, a doey-eyed innocent - on the surface at least - who sported a page-boy cut and fashionable tweed jacket with collar turned up, just so) opined off the cuff:
"I guess, there is a chemical reaction, of sorts."
News reels of yesteryear reveal a surprisingly down-to-earth quality and Jagger's healthy sense of humor.
For example, when Dick Cavett starts to pose a simple question - which ends up being a long-winded, confusing one - Jagger grins, shakes his head, and confesses with a sheepish look on his face.
"I've forgotten the question."
Keith Richards could be remarkably quick on the uptake, too.
When one reporter probed - What question are you asked most?" - without skipping a beat e chuckled "That one" - with a delicious smile on his face.
Given the opportunity, I'd ask Mick about his wardrobe selections.
Are they of his own choosing - conjured up with the assistance of a stylist - I wonder?
In "Shine", he sparkled and made tantalizing fashion statements.
The lead singer for the Stones - the world's "top rock band? - tends to favor elegant button down shirts in lush fabrics (oftentimes, fashioned in blood red) usually highlighted with a stylish panels adorned with sequins running down the front.
On occasion, he squeezed into a black "T" with a spray of glitter across the face - which caught the light - and subsequently dazzled.
In one shot, he looked for all-the-world like an idyllic "Prince of Pop" in a tastefully-tailored Tuxedo jacket - with ubiquitous tails and satin lapels - to boot.
A mainstay?
Black jeans, which fit snugly, and screamed out pure "sex" appeal.
At the beginning of the film, Scorsese often came across as a wise old owl perched on high from afar.
His on-the-ball crew often captured the award-winning director fussing about behind-the-scenes - and occasionally - rabble-rousing with Jagger over an issue or two.
But - when the lights went up and the show began - the camera-work was flawless and carried out to perfection.
The expert cameraman were there to catch each solo riff, or striking vocal that chimed in unexpectedly from across the stage, for instance.
In fact, the reveal was so up-close and personal now and then, that the audience caught sight of Jagger's dental work and perspiration soiling his underarms.
Back off a little, Marty.
While the cinematography was excellent for the most part, the lighting - in contrast - was not very flattering to the boys, at all.
If what they say is true - you get the face you deserve at fifty - then it applies in this instant case.
The mugs of Mick and the boys were haggard and deeply-lined; a roadmap which reflected the downside of their jet-setting, party-hearty lifestyle, eh?
One failing of the documentary?
Scorsese failed to take a foray into their backstage personas; in fact, their seemingly endless days of wine and roses and lusty pursuit of women, is left out in the cold.
Essentially, the doc is a superficial glance at Jagger and the lads.
In sum, "Shine A light" doesn't.
Perhaps, it would be more aptly titled "In Concert".
For this reason, as a whole, the audience doesn't get much satisfaction.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Bold & Beautiful...the "Blond and the Bad"; set the greedy b**tards adrift!
Well, guess 'ya heard, our two sisters unions are in a big cat fight right now over jurisdictional turf!
This past week my e-mail box has been rattled by missives from the administrative heads of SAG and AFTRA, respectively, begging for support.
A bitter dispute, but there will be a resolution, no doubt.
Traditionally SAG maintained jurisdiction over all productions that were shot on film; while AFTRA kept a vigil over projects taped on video.
The three camera video process first developed by Desi Arnaz for the long-running comedy - "I Love Lucy" - is generally used for the Soaps, TV Sitcoms, and News Broadcasts.
However, a few years ago, shows like "Cheers" - although 3-camera in nature - started using film to rustle up a higher quality image for a more sophisticated night-time audience.
The sad part - for performers anyway - is that working on a project that falls under the AFTRA contract usually means less pay. Hence, the reason actors prefer the more prestigious offerings that come SAG's way.
Of course, in recent years - what with run-away production and industry expansion into Cable, Music Videos, Reality TV, and Internet rich media - AFTRA and SAG have become more competitive about the pickings; hence, the current bitter dispute which is a major departure from the past amiable stance of the two entertainment heavies.
I was quite galled, though, when I learned that part of the recent upheaval was due to the fact a posse of spoiled actors over on the "Bold & Beautiful" suddenly decided to entertain the ludicrous notion of jumping ship (fleeing the AFTRA camp) to take wing under the SAG umbrella for purely selfish greedy motivations: bigger bucks!
You know, I've always referred to that dim-witted show - deservedly so - as the "Blond & the Bad".
For good reason; after all, I know from whence I speak.
When the daytime soap first started up, a storyline featuring a catering company was crafted around one of the young nubile leads, Brooke. For several weeks, I played one of the caterers in the tawdry slow-moving subplot which went nowhere fast.
Yeah, life's a drag for the rich in Malibu, you bet!
What astounded me most were the temperaments of the young stars, who - for the most part - were dredged-up out-of-the-blue with little or no acting experience or newly-minted from some dismal acting academy east of La Brea, somewhere.
In all the years I've been in the "biz" I've rarely encountered such "ATTITUDE" among a regular cast of featured players, a lack of empathy for fellow actors, and an overall lack of professionalism.
Talk about a disregard for others; Ron Moss (Ridge) acted like he owned the show.
But, Susan Flannery - who plays the part of the matriarch to the hilt - was the absolute worst! Rarely ever content, she often haggled with the director - and more-often-than-not - threw her weight around which was considerable.
In fact, the tensions were so high on the set you could cut through 'em with a chainsaw, just maybe!
The soap tattlers are tittling that Flannery may pack it in, retire. Good riddance!
But, the problem was not just in front of the camera.
Shortly after the sweet casting gal Jill hastily departed to marry a rock musician, some mousy little secretary by the name of Christie Dooley crawled out from under a rock to take her reins.
After that, I never worked on the show again. Cast out, like a leper!
I have a theory that she didn't want people around who were witness to her humble beginnings; after all, the low-life schemer was inclined to weave some grand plans of her own!
In a short while - in spite of the fact she lacked the credentials - she was actually conducting acting classes and workshops for struggling actors in the Hollywood area.
Talk about the blind leading the bland.
For twenty bucks or so she'd rent herself out to actors. But the truth of the matter is that most thespians regarded her coaching skills with disdain.
If the truth be known, actors were only signing up to charm her pants off, with the specific aim of landing a plum role on the show.
Of course, Ms. Dooley was wise to the game; she not only played it to the max, but lined her sow's purse with their cash and laughed all the way to the bank, as well.
The acting workshop "scam" is one of the oldest in the business and is generally frowned upon by Agents and Union Officials in particular.
Frankly, I was appalled that head honcho William Bell - the respected producer of "B&B" and "The Young & Restless" - didn't cut her loose.
I mean, it reflected so negatively on CBS and the soaps produced there and industry standards, at best.
So, of course, look who ended up on the show?
A non-charismatic cast of no-talents.
Go figure!
I say, cut the greedy b**stards loose, and set them adrift.
We need unity in our profession now, not petty outbursts from prima donnas, with little regard for what's best for the Industry and the solid traditions of Hollywood.
