Synecdoche, New York
If we don't "go to the movies" in any form, our minds wither and sicken.
To begin with there was a little girl out in the hallway with long black hair and white bell-bottom trousers. She was sitting on a bench by the elevator, looking across the hallway into a mirror, which showed her sitting on a bench by the elevator.
HOLLYWOOD - "The mustard! Watch the blasted mustard!"
"One of the times I remember best," Bob Hope said, "was the night they changed the script on Humphrey Bogart.
The way it happened that he came to Chicago, Alan Arkin said, was that after he quit singing with the Tarriers he fooled around in New York for awhile, a few acting jobs and a few office jobs that mostly fell through because he couldn't stand working in an office, and then he went out to St. Louis to work with an improvisational group.
Bruce Trinz died in Philadelphia on July 7, 2011. He was 93.
HOLLYWOOD - Out in Devil's Gulch on the back lot at Warner Brothers, where Josh Logan is making "Camelot" with the whole studio hanging over his shoulders, David Hemmings sits in his dressing room and waits. It is a good time of year for waiting, not too hot, 65 or 70, the sun falling lazily on the green hills of Hollywood. Hemmings came out here four months ago to play Mordred, King Arthur's illegitimate son, and in that space of time he has worked, oh, maybe four days. The wait has given Hemmings an opportunity to feel out Los Angeles, to shape the dimensions of this strange new world, and to grow his own wispy beard to replace the makeup man's.
The roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, Anthony Newley called it, and after the final curtain call of "The Odd Couple," backstage, all Dan Dailey wanted to do was get out of his makeup and into a dressing gown. This night was to be an occasion, the birthday of Joe Jamrog, an understudy who had just played Murray the Cop, and there was a pot of coffee and a birthday cake in one of the dressing rooms.
The Golden Path leads past the offices of Camp Henry Horner and a rental agency, down an antiseptic corridor done in granite and janitor pink, and leads finally to a glass door announcing Irene F. Hughes, ESP. By Appointment Only.