“As Penny Chenery’s youngest son…”

I received this comment on my blog entry about “Secretariat” the movie, Secretariat the horse and the discussion about Andrew O’Hehir’s review of the film at Salon.com. It appears under the blog, as do comments by O’Hehir and Bill Nack, author of the Secretariat biography that informed the film. But it is so well-worded and wise that I wanted to call particular attention to it. RE

October 9, 2010

As Penny Chenery’s youngest son, I am fascinated by “Secretariat’s” reception by critics, and the dialogue between Ebert and O’Hehir is to me the most interesting so far. Rather than taking sides about whether the movie is “good” or “bad” (I am far too close to evaluate its merits), I want to comment on the value I see in both reviewers’ perspectives. From their conflicting angles, each shines a light on something I believe to be true about both the movie and the events that gave rise to it.

I understand O’Hehir’s perception of something relentlessly, indeed forcedly, upbeat about the story, perhaps masking a troubling reality underneath. The movie does, indeed, glamorize and improve on my family’s situation in the early 1970s, as it sanitizes the cultural context of that era. In real life, we Tweedys were more riven and frayed by the large and small conflicts of the time, and by the pressures of celebrity into which we were suddenly thrust. The wars between our parents were more bitter, the marriage more broken, and we kids were more alienated and countercultural than the movie depicts. During the pre-race CBS broadcast at the Belmont, Woody Broun interviewed my dad, my siblings and me, asking Jack whether he was the “power behind the throne.” He gamely (and for me now, poignantly) replied that he was proud of his wife, his kids, “and the horse.” Mom had wanted us to be all together for that interview, but away from the cameras we were each living in a separate world. The movie navigates this terrain with a combination of erasure, gentleness, and tact, and from the point of view of my family’s privacy, I am grateful.

But Ebert is right that there is something more — and something better — at work in the movie than simply airbrushing over painful truth. My mother has always known that the “Secretariat story,” and her role in it, filled a deep cultural need. While the country was convulsed by feminism, Watergate and Vietnam, Penny took pains to present as a wife and mother, offering a wholesome, western, maternal female image that paired beautifully with the heroic, powerful male icon that Secretariat was becoming. Our President may have been a Machiavellian liar, our soldiers denounced as baby-killers, and our fathers excoriated as chauvinist pigs as they commuted grimly to work. But here came Secretariat, deeply male, muscular and graceful, his chest lathered with sublimated sex. And on that day in June 1973, when he blew away the field in the Belmont Stakes, he transcended argument, rivalry, even transcended sport itself. In that moment Secretariat gave my family, and gave the public, something like grace.

Now we are again in a cultural moment of war and dissension. My sense is that the movie’s creators didn’t feel the need to portray the convulsions of the early 1970s, in part because today’s audiences carry the burdens of our current convulsions into the theaters with them, hoping to escape briefly to a world they can believe in and admire. I think the movie is offered to satisfy the old hunger for a kingly male and a queenly female, who together strive for something beyond themselves, who seek victory, and achieve grace. Disney has long been in the business of telling this kind of story. The best such films rise to the level of archetype, while lesser ones sink into the mire of cliche, or worse. Whether “Secretariat” succeeds in this mythic leap is for critics to argue, and for audiences to decide. Personally, I’m enjoying the ride, as well as the critical dust it’s kicking up.

John Tweedy

Here is my blog entry, Secretariat was not a Christian.
My original review of “Secretariat.”
Andrew O’Hehir’s article in Salon.com.
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April 9, 2013

If you were a teenager in the 1950s…

The appeal of The Stroll is that (1) everybody could do it, and (2) it was the luck of the line who your partner turned out to be, unless you cheated and traded places in line.

Now here is the very same generation in 2010. I filmed this at a Platters revival concert in Three Oaks, Michigan. What a difference 62 years can make.

April 9, 2013

And we never will sing the Wild Rover no more

On St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago, back in the day, it seemed as if a good portion of the revelers cycled through O’Rourke’s Pub on North Avenue in Chicago. The juke box was loaded with the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. No wonder. Their records were permanently enshrined in the box, and the regulars knew all the lyrics. Note: The blog software insists on displaying some of this content more than once. I can’t talk it out of doing that. I’m sure you will prove equal to the challenge.

April 9, 2013

We need Punk Vaudeville. Jarmean?

“Jarmean” is a British pronunciation of “Jar know whad I mean?”

From the Rock and Roll Report web site: Britain’s “Jarmean?” snub albums, embrace absinthe and will choose the ukulele over a guitar any day!.

Amazon.com Widgets

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April 9, 2013

Grandpa Joe and Secretariat: A Christmas story

Friday, January 14, 2011

Dear Bill and Roger:

Grandpa died today. Early this morning, in his sleep.

My husband and I drove the kids out to see him on Sunday, when we realized he was becoming too weak to move. It was good timing. We each got one last, long hug, and we sat with him as he watched the new “Superman” on cable. He stayed awake for the first half, then fell asleep.

My husband and uncle lifted him into the hospital bed in the living room and we sat with him. He reached up at one point and I grabbed his hand and he grabbed back and held tight for almost 20 minutes. I can’t remember the last time we held hands, before that. A day later, after singing a few lines of the “Annie” song with my uncle, weakly, and then falling asleep, he stopped waking up at all.

I am so, so thankful, once again, that you both were able to help how and when you did. He didn’t make it to the DVD release after all.

There’s so much more I want to say but I don’t know how to say it and I’m a little too teary right now, anyway. The computer screen keeps blurring up. I just thought you’d like to know this news.

Bless you both,
Rachel

From Roger: This is a story by Rachel Estrada Ryan. It tells of the love over many years that her grandfather, Joseph Triano, has held for Secretariat. And how before he died he hoped to see the movie about the great horse.

I haven’t changed a word of her writing.

There’s one thing I want to say. Rachel pays me compliments. The fact is, I only did one thing to help Grandpa Joe achieve his dream. I forwarded her e-mail to my old college friend Bill Nack, who is Secretariat’s biographer. The movie is based on his book.

This Nack is some piece of work. You will read here about how he put in a request for the pre-release DVD of the film, and then tracked down Grandpa Joe in the Staten Island phone book and called to say the movie was on the way.

• Rachel Estrada Ryan

OK, so here’s what happened. This is the (really) long version. I apologize. I can’t think of another way to tell it.

My grandfather went into the hospital on Friday, November 5th. He was very lethargic, more so than usual (he hasn’t been in good health for a while), and my grandmother was concerned. Days turned into test-after-test, turned into weeks, turned into a transfer from Staten Island University Hospital to New York-Presbyterian. His vitals were such that biopsy was difficult, prolonging the definitive diagnosis that we all wanted. Finally, we knew. It was metastatic gallbladder cancer. They wouldn’t give us a specific timeframe in terms of how long we could expect him to live, but if you Google “metastatic gallbladder cancer”…well.

We had a diagnosis and we also had all the doctors telling us: “There’s really nothing we can do for him.” We were to be relieved that he is not in pain and we were to watch my grandmother bring him home on hospice. We were to wait, and expect him to die soon.

Interesting part of all this was that my grandfather maintained amazingly good spirits. He’s been known throughout his lifetime for his relatively difficult personality–sometimes he’s barking at my grandmother and isolating himself socially, other times he’s joking, playful, loving, affecting a winsome lilt in his voice. You never really know what you’re going to get when you encounter him. Suddenly, however, he was all jokes and smiles, soft, pleasant, compliant. Heart-breakingly so.

He was sent home on hospice the day before Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving Day he was in a wheelchair, oxygen prongs in his nose, but still he was able to make it to my aunt’s house for our annual family dinner. On Black Friday, I went with my husband and our three kids to my grandparents’ to spend the day with him.

This is when I first heard of his desire to see “Secretariat.”

The movie was almost all he talked about during that visit. As I told you in previous emails, my grandfather hasn’t been to an actual movie theater in quite some time–instead, he waits for movies to come out on DVD, then gets them from the library. We’d almost convinced him that we could wheel him to a theater and set him up in the handicapped seating section without too much trouble when we realized that the movie was no longer playing in any theaters near us! We looked up when the DVD was going to become available and realized we had a months-long wait ahead. We weren’t sure how many more months he was going to have. We started getting nervous.

My family and I went home on Friday night, but my mother stayed on with them until the next day. When she arrived home Saturday night she called to tell me of the rest of her visit. She told me he spent a good deal of that next day remarking on the cuteness of my kids, the goodness of my husband, even reminiscing about me as a little girl, bringing up memories that I never suspected he harbored, things even I didn’t remember. The rest of the time, she said, he talked about “Secretariat.” He didn’t seem to be fully understanding that the movie was utterly unavailable, stuck in that limbo between theater and DVD releases. Or maybe he did understand. Maybe that’s what made him so frantic.

In mid-October, he’d seen his beloved Charlie Rose interview Diane Lane and John Malkovitch. Ever since that interview, he’d been carrying with him the notion that he would see this movie at his earliest opportunity. Never mind his preceding fondness for the racehorse and its moment in history–there was also *Diane Lane* to consider. (It turns out–and I never really knew this before–my grandfather has a major thing for Diane Lane.) And then there he was, stuck with cancer, stuck dying, stuck in movie limbo.

When I got off the phone with my mother that Saturday night, she left me with this trailing, parting charge: “If there’s any way you can figure out how to get him this movie, Rachel….”

I don’t think she thought she was giving me a job to do. I don’t think she expected there was anything I *could* do. But still, she said it. So I set off trying.

I started on Disney’s website. I searched and searched for an email address or a contact form that seemed it’d be heading to the right department, but found none. Finally I located a snail mail address. I opened a Word document and started typing, then stopped halfway through. I needed a better idea.

This is when you came to mind, Roger. And all because of Chris Jones and his profile of you that appeared in Esquire earlier this year. I read that article after a link to it appeared in my Facebook news feed. To say that I was moved would be a gross understatement, but suffice to say my reaction mirrored that of many readers. I hadn’t known that you’d been thus stricken, that you’d been through surgeries that took away your ability to talk, eat, drink. I hadn’t known any of that, and then, suddenly knowing it, I cared so much. I felt so much for you, I cared so much about you. A little part of your story lodged itself in my heart, and I immediately started following you on Twitter. That was that, for many months, just you and the hundred or so other people who I follow trickling down my Twitter feed. I discovered that you have a very good sense of humor, I discovered that you often respond to your followers…I discovered that you are at your computer just about as much as I am (which is to say–A LOT).

It was suddenly so clear: “Who do I know who 1) has connections in the movie business and 2) might be so moved as to actually help me help my grandfather?” Roger Ebert.

I immediately crafted an email. I wrote so quickly that I failed to realize that my Apple Mail application had frozen a few hours earlier. I hit “send” before saving the draft. And guess what? Nothing happened. The email didn’t send, and it didn’t go to my Outbox, and it wasn’t saved in my Drafts folder, either. It simply vanished, the screen froze, and I had to restart my computer.

In the time it took my computer to reboot, it occurred to me that I might want to investigate whether you even LIKED “Secretariat.” I Googled your review, and that’s when I discovered another serendipitous connection between you and our movie plight–not only did you have cancer, and would hopefully understand my grandfather’s situation, but you gave the movie four stars and you were old college buddies with Bill Nack?!?!? I couldn’t believe it. I started another email with even more enthusiasm. I was convinced that if anyone was going to be able to help us with this, it was going to be you. I’m pretty sure I told you as much. It just seemed meant to be.

I’ll try to glance over the rest of this, since I trust you know most of the story from here on out. You wrote me back three days later. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw your name in my inbox. Sadly, on that particular day, my grandfather was back in the hospital for a blood transfusion and a tap on his belly to ease the pressure of the building fluid around his tumors. He was not feeling well at all. I called him in his hospital room and I gasped over the phone, “Roger Ebert! Roger Ebert wrote me back! He’s going to try to help you get the movie!” Meanwhile, this was the first he’d heard of me even asking you (I was too embarrassed to go around announcing that I emailed you for help–I told only my husband and a close friend). He was tired and confused and I got only a, “That’s nice. Very nice. Here, I’m going to give the phone to your grandmother.”

So. That was that for two whole weeks. I’d almost put it out of my mind. I sent him the other movie you recommended, “Ruffian,” but it was reported back that he’d been unable to stay awake long enough to watch the whole thing. My grandmother said she liked it. She said it was “nice.” The whole thing was looking like it was going to be a “nice” story. I could say I tried, and things would go on as usual. Grandpa said maybe he’d try to read the book, though it seemed almost impossible that he’d ever regain the clarity of mind and extended alertness necessary to read such a long work.

Then, at 2:27PM on Tuesday the 14th, I checked my email during a business meeting. There was a message from a “Lee, Sharon” with no subject. I clicked on it, and this is what it said:

“Hello Rachel,

Your letter touched a lot of folks from the film and your request has come to me for handling.

On behalf of Disney, I would like to inform you we will be sending a copy of SECRETARIAT for your grandfather Joseph R. Triano.

Please send me his address as soon as possible.

Happy Holidays!

Sharon”

I flipped out. I ditched the rest of my business meeting (after blurting out the whole story about Grandpa, you, the movie) and ran home, making calls on my cell phone the whole way. When I called my grandparents this time, my grandfather was feeling much better, more alert. The fact that I’d been in contact with you had been explained to him thoroughly by that point. It was a wonderful conversation. I wish I would have recorded it. He was so excited. That winsome lilt of his was in FULL effect.

I got off the phone with them and was soon distracted by a business phone call. That conversation was interrupted by a call waiting beep, but I didn’t click over as I didn’t recognize the phone number. I checked my voicemail after I hung up. Disbelief multiplied with more disbelief–I was treated to a two-minute long message from Bill Nack, who explained his role in sending my message to Disney, his delight at hearing that Disney was indeed sending us a screener, and the fact that he’d just gotten off the phone with Mary Triano (Grandma!) after discovering my grandfather was the only Joe Triano in the Staten Island white pages.

Three days later (the day before yesterday–Friday the 17th), I got another email from Disney saying that they’d gotten UPS confirmation that the package was at my grandparents’ front door. Thanks to my husband, I was able to jump into our minivan and battle my way through Long Island traffic to get to him. My grandmother didn’t tell him the package had arrived–she let me give it to him when I got there. It turned out Disney had also sent a hat, a T-shirt and a pin (a replica of the one Diane Lane wears in the film). He took each item out of the box and turned them over in his hands, slowly, one by one. He read over every word on the DVD’s cardboard sleeve, even the small print. We kind of just sat there for a while, taking it all in, smiling and shaking our heads.

Then we watched the movie.

I have videos that I’ll send to you following this email, of his opening the box, of his reactions after watching it. After the credits concluded and before I started the camera, we just sat and stared at the screen for the longest time, just me and my grandparents, in silence. I almost can’t say if I liked it. This was not just a movie. I don’t think “Secretariat” will ever be just a movie for me. You ruined it for me, in that way, Roger. You made it into something more than it could ever really be, something magical, something transcendent, an object of my love for my grandfather. The fact that this horse lived, and died, and did something wonderful in between…it became both a universal truth and a specific one, as if pinpointing this very Joseph R. Triano, of Staten Island, New York, who has lived, and who is going to die, and who made me possible, me and my mother and my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my children. All his life he has been wonderful only if and when he wants to be–but I can tell you, those moments are worth the wait. He kissed me on the cheek that night, something he hasn’t done since I was a little girl. It was 31 lengths and more. I am just so damn glad this happened. Thank you.

Rachel

April 9, 2013

Spielberg in 60 seconds

There’s a story behind this little film that encapsulates the Far-
Flung Correspondents of my website. A few years ago, I posted an early attempt at special effects by a Indian teenager named Krishna Shenoi. See below. He’s the youngest of FFCs, and many of us were able to meet him at Ebertfest. He has since become a stellar student at a top Indian school, and has all the makings of a gifted profesional.

In 2011, I wrote:

Krishna Shenoi, an Indian teenager from Dubai by way of Bangalore, came with hismother Sandhya and sister Susmita:to Ebertfest. I’d seen his work on YouTube, and he’s one of my Far-Flung Correspondents. I have a good feeling about Krishna. Re member his name. I suspect you may hear it again. I also suspect his sister, a medical student, may sometimes be his cinematographer.

Here is one of the first Shenoi videos I saw:

And about the next, from 2012, he told his fellow FFCs:

“This montage of my work over the last couple years, ranging from my films and animations to my books and paintings. Most of the work glimpsed here can be seen in its entirety on my website, krishnabalashenoi.wordpress.com: .

“The song is “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” from the album “In Rainbows,” by Radiohead.”

And here’s the first look I had of Krishna’s work, made when he was 14 years old! The photo below it captures the young director when he was still younger still.

¶’

Here;s the home page of my Far-Flung Correspondents.

April 9, 2013

100 Great Moments in the Movies

Roger Ebert / April 23, 1995

For the centennial of cinema, 100 great moments from the movies:

Clark Gable in “Gone With the Wind”:

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Buster Keaton standing perfectly still while the wall of a house falls over upon him; he is saved by being exactly placed for an open window.

Charlie Chaplin being recognized by the little blind girl in “City Lights.”

The computer Hal 9000 reading lips, in “2001: a Space Odyssey.”

The singing of “La Marseillaise” in “Casablanca.”

Snow White kissing Dopey Bashful on the head.

John Wayne putting the reins in his mouth in “True Grit” and galloping across the mountain meadow, weapons in both hands.

Jimmy Stewart in “Vertigo,” approaching Kim Novak across the room, realizing she embodies all of his obsessions – better than he knows.

The early film experiment proving that horses do sometimes have all four hoofs off the ground.

Gene Kelly singin’ in the rain.

Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta discuss what they call Quarter Pounders in France, in “Pulp Fiction.”

The Man in the Moon getting a cannon shell in his eye, in the Melies film “A Voyage to the Moon.”

Pauline in peril, tied to the railroad tracks.

A boy running joyously to greet his returning father, in “Sounder.”

Harold Lloyd hanging from a clock face in “Safety Last.”

Orson Welles smiling enigmatically in the doorway in “The Third Man.”

An angel looking down sadly over Berlin, in Wim Wenders’ “Wings of Desire.”

The Zapruder film of the Kennedy assassination: Over and over again, a moment frozen in time.

A homesick North African, sadly telling a hooker that what he really wants is not sex but couscous, in Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s “Fear Eats the Soul: Ali.”

Wile E. Coyote, suspended in air.

Zero Mostel throwing a cup of cold coffee at the hysterical Gene Wilder in Mel Brooks’ “The Producers,” and Wilder screaming: “I’m still hysterical! Plus, now I’m wet!”

An old man all alone in his home, faced with the death of his wife and the indifference of his children, in Yasujiro Ozu’s “Tokyo Story.”

“Smoking.” Robert Mitchum’s response, holding up his cigarette, when Kirk Douglas offers him a smoke in “Out of the Past.”

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg wading in the fountain in “La Dolce Vita.”

The moment in Akira Kurosawa’s “High and Low” when a millionaire discovers that it was not his son who was kidnapped, but his chauffeur’s son – and then the eyes of the two fathers meet.

The distant sight of people appearing over the horizon at the end of “Schindler’s List.”

R2D2 and C3PO in “Star Wars.”

E.T. and friend riding their bicycle across the face of the moon.

Marlon Brando’s screaming “Stella!” in “A Streetcar Named Desire.”

Hannibal Lecter smiling at Clarise in “The Silence of the Lambs.”

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute! You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!” The first words heard in the first talkie, “The Jazz Singer,” said by Al Jolson.

Jack Nicholson trying to order a chicken salad sandwich in “Five Easy Pieces.”

“Nobody’s perfect”: Joe E. Brown’s last line in “Some Like It Hot,” explaining to Tony Curtis why he plans to marry Jack Lemmon even though he is a man.

“Rosebud.”

The shooting party in Renoir’s “Rules of the Game.”

The haunted eyes of Antoine Doinel, Truffaut’s autobiographical hero, in the freeze frame that ends “The 400 Blows.”

Jean-Paul Belmondo flipping a cigarette into his mouth in Godard’s “Breathless.”

The casting of the great iron bell in Andrei Tarkovsky’s “Andrei Rublev.”

“What have you done to its eyes?” Dialogue by Mia Farrow in “Rosemary’s Baby.”

Moses parting the Red Sea in “The Ten Commandments.”

An old man found dead in a child’s swing, his mission completed, at the end of Kurosawa’s “Ikiru.”

The haunted eyes of the actress Maria Falconetti in Dreyer’s “The Passion of Joan of Arc.”

The children watching the train pass by in Ray’s “Pather Panchali.”

The baby carriage bouncing down the steps in Eisenstein’s “Battleship Potemkin.”

“Are you lookin’ at me?” Robert De Niro in “Taxi Driver.”

“My father made them an offer they couldn’t refuse:” Al Pacino in “The Godfather.”

The mysterious body in the photographs in Antonioni’s “Blow-Up.”

“One word, Benjamin: plastics.” From “The Graduate.”

A man dying in the desert in von Stroheim’s “Greed.”

Eva Marie Saint clinging to Cary Grant’s hand on Mt. Rushmore in “North by Northwest.”

Astaire and Rogers dancing.

“There ain’t no sanity clause!” Chico to Groucho in “A Night at the Opera.”

“They call me Mr. Tibbs.” Sidney Poitier in Norman Jewison’s “In the Heat of the Night.”

The sadness of the separated lovers in Jean Vigo’s “L’Atalante.”

The vast expanse of desert, and then tiny figures appearing, in “Lawrence of Arabia.”

Jack Nicholson on the back of the motorcycle, wearing a football helmet, in “Easy Rider.”

The geometrical choreography of the Busby Berkeley girls.

The peacock spreading its tail feathers in the snow, in Fellini’s “Amarcord.”

Robert Mitchum in “Night of the Hunter,” with “LOVE” tattooed on the knuckles of one hand, and “HATE” on the other.

Joan Baez singing “Joe Hill” in “Woodstock.”

Robert De Niro’s transformation from sleek boxer to paunchy nightclub owner in “Raging Bull.”

Bette Davis: “Fasten your seat belts; it’s gonna be a bumpy night!” in “All About Eve.”

“That spider is as big as a Buick!” Woody Allen in “Annie Hall.”

The chariot race in “Ben-Hur.”

Barbara Harris singing “It Don’t Worry Me” to calm a panicked crowd in Robert Altman’s “Nashville.”

The game of Russian roulette in “The Deer Hunter.”

Chase scenes: “The French Connection,” “Bullitt,” “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” “Diva.”

The shadow of the bottle hidden in the light fixture, in “The Lost Weekend.”

“I coulda been a contender.” Brando in “On the Waterfront.”

George C. Scott’s speech about the enemy in “Patton:” “We’re going to go through him like crap through a goose.”

Rocky Balboa running up the steps and pumping his hand into the air, with all of Philadelphia at his feet.

Debra Winger saying goodbye to her children in “Terms of Endearment.”

The montage of the kissing scenes in “Cinema Paradiso.”

The dinner guests who find they somehow cannot leave, in Bunuel’s “The Exterminating Angel.”

A knight plays chess with Death, in Bergman’s “The Seventh Seal.”

The savage zeal of the Klansmen in Griffith’s “The Birth of a Nation.”

The problem of the door that won’t stay closed, in Jacques Tati’s “Mr. Hulot’s Holiday.”

“I’m still big! It’s the pictures that got small!” Gloria Swanson in “Sunset Boulevard.”

“We’re a long way from Kansas!” Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz.”

An overhead shot beginning with an entrance hall, and ending with a closeup of a key in Ingrid Bergman’s hand, in Hitchcock’s “Notorious.”

“There ain’t much meat on her, but what’s there is choice.” Spencer Tracy about Katharine Hepburn in “Pat and Mike.”

The day’s outing of the mental patients in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

“I always look well when I’m near death.” Greta Garbo to Robert Taylor in “Camille.”

“It took more than one night to change my name to Shanghai Lily.” Marlene Dietrich in “Shanghai Express.”

“I’m walkin’ here!” Dustin Hoffman in “Midnight Cowboy.”

W.C. Fields flinching as a prop man hurls handfuls of fake snow into his face in “The Fatal Glass of Beer.”

“The next time you got nothin’ to do, and lots of time to do it, come up and see me.” Mae West in “My Little Chickadee.”

“Top o’ the world, Ma!” James Cagney in “White Heat.”

Richard Burton exploding when Elizabeth Taylor reveals their “secret” in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

Henry Fonda getting his hair cut in “My Darling Clementine.”

“Badges? We ain’t got no badges. We don’t need no badges. I don’t have to show you any stinkin’ badges!” Alfonso Bedoya to Humphrey Bogart in “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.”

“There’s your dog. Your dog’s dead. But there had to be something that made it move. Doesn’t there?” Line from Errol Morris’ “Gates of Heaven.”

“Don’t touch the suit!” Burt Lancaster in “Atlantic City.”

Gena Rowlands arrives at John Cassavetes’ house with a taxicab full of adopted animals, in “Love Streams.”

“I want to live again. I want to live again. I want to live again. Please God, let me live again.” Jimmy Stewart to the angel in “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr embrace on the beach in “From Here to Eternity.”

Mookie throws the trash can through the window of Sal’s Pizzeria, in “Do the Right Thing.”

“I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” dialogue by Robert Duvall, in “Apocalypse Now.”

“Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.” Katharine Hepburn to Humphrey Bogart in “The African Queen.”

“Mother of mercy. Is this the end of Rico?” Edward G. Robinson in “Little Caesar.”

☑ Click to expand. Comments are open.

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April 9, 2013

Take my hand, I’m a stranger in Paradise

Two hand models. The top video has been posted as a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the lower one.

The Creepy Hand Model: Ellen Sirot with Michaela Watkins from Michaela Watkins

My TwitterPages are linked at the right.
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April 9, 2013

Ebert Club All-Time Short Film Retrospective

The Ebert Club recently celebrated its 2nd birthday and in honor of the occasion, we’d like to share a collection of short films which have appeared inside the Newsletter. The cream of the crop!  And to explore an even greater assortment of finds and discoveries, please join the Ebert Club. Your subscription helps support the Newsletter, the Far-Flung Correspondents and the On-Demanders on Roger’s site.

Fly (2010) Directed by Alan Short, the “Fly” is part of a series of animated shorts from Aardman Animation. Synopsis: A man
and his pet dog attempt to remove a pesky fly with humorous results…

April 9, 2013

All hail Queen Ida! Clap your hands! Rotate your hips. Be happy. Be real happy.

I only saw Queen Ida once, but that was enough. No, not enough. But it was the only chance I had. This was at Holstein’s, the music saloon on North Halsted St. in Chicago, just down the street from Somebody Else’s Troubles and run by brothers Fred and Ed Holstein, who were at the heart of the city’s golden age of folk.

Holstein’s wasn’t a huge room, but it was packed. The pay must not have been great, but the Queen played like a million bucks. Her first language is French. She was the first woman to lead a zydeco band–zydeco, the music of the bayou.

There is such joy in her performance. I’ve been posting some pieces about New Orleans by my good friend Ellie Cooney. I mentioned Queen Ida. Many were the times, Ellie said, when “she danced me into a puddle of sweat.”

N.B.: In my quest spanning the years, I find that the best albums to play loud while exercising are Queen Ida’s and good Soca. That’s because most of the time you can’t quite understand the French, cajun and some English, mixed in a gumbo. Instrumental music can seem seem too insistent on the treadmill. A vocal gives you company, but spares you from following the words.

Opens with an interview with the Queen:

Cick here on the queen Ida Listening Page.

Here is her Wikipedia entry. The Queen is still with us at 83.

April 9, 2013

I love this sweet grandmother

My TwitterPages are linked at the right.
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April 9, 2013

My other neighborhood on Red Arrow Highway

On Red Arrow Highway, the old road along the Eastern shore of Lake Michigan from Chicago to Detroit, the past coexists with the present. There are old-fashioned pleasures, and not everything is in a strip mall and belongs to a chain. Actual human beings own places and sell you stuff it’s fun to buy. This area is known as Harbor Country.

Top to bottom: Oink’s Ice Cream Parlor and Fudge Shop in New Buffalo; chef and owner Ibrahim Parlak chatting with customers at his Cafe Gulistan in Harbert; the veggie stand on Red Arrow in Sawyer; Schlipp’s soda fountain in Sawyer; a car hop at Mikey’s Drive In on the highway in Bridgman; Ben Franklin’s Five and Ten Cent Store in Bridgman.

About five miles further away from Lake Michigan is the town of New Troy, which calls itself the Center of the World. The name comes from a general store that operated there from circa 1860 until 1976. When woodworker Terry Hanover and his wife settled there, they took over the name in 1976 for their wood shop, which is still there. Their showroom is on Red Arrow as it passes through Harbert.

Red Arrow even preserves a Shell station. Gas stations mostly all used to look like this. In the mirror is the road behind. Ahead are St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, and houses by Frank Lloyd Wright.

☑ Photos and video by Roger Ebert. You can use them but say where these good places are. All of my TwitterPages are linked under the category Pages in the right margin of this page.

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April 9, 2013

“Swan Lake” by the Great Chinese Circus

Thanks to dancer and critic Jana J. Monji for the suggestion.

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April 9, 2013

Starting with one cell, we arrive at Prof. Hawking

Readable if you click to expand.

Errol Morris’s “A Brief History of Tme,” complete:
This Tree of Life, a larger version and an explanation of how to use it — all here at Evolutionary genealogy.
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Amazon.com Widgets

April 9, 2013
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