Jew Eat Yet?

Oscars? What Oscars?

Does anyone care about the Oscars this year? Is the waning interest due to the fact that the WGA strike may cause the Big Show to be reduced to a celebrity-free press conference like the low-rated Golden Globes? I’ve been bitching and moaning about the Oscars on this blog for the past three years and doing a quick review of my 2005, 2006, and 2007 predictions, I can’t say that I’ve been doing that well as a Tinseltown Soothsayer. 2007 was my best year—I correctly predicted four out of the six top awards (and I still feel Eddie Murphy was robbed of his Best Supporting Oscar for “Dreamgirls”). I don’t know why I turned on Martin Scorsese when everyone could see his time had finally come (was it because I hadn’t even seen “The Departed” and I was still smarting from my 2005 prediction that he’d win for “The Aviator?”).

Assuming that the February 24th broadcast will go on as planned (and that’s a huge assumption at this point), I’m guessing that I will be glued to the screen as always, even while I continue my kvetching about the very concept of awards shows. No doubt I will spend half the evening screaming at my television or cringing in horror. But, unlike the fake Golden Globes, I admit that I’m transfixed by the Oscars and their rich history. If the show happens, I can’t NOT watch!

In some years I’ve seen nearly every nominated film and performance, other years I’ve seen surprisingly few, but that has never stopped me (or the Academy voters) from making my picks. I usually get tied up in knots over who I want to win versus who I think will win. I know you’re all breathlessly awaiting my prophecies, so here goes.

Best Supporting Actor. Oops, right off the bat I have to tell you that I’ve only seen two of the five nominated performances. Philip Seymour Hoffman was perfect in “Charlie Wilson’s War,” I enjoyed this performance more than his Oscar-winning role in “Capote.” Tom Wilkinson is a fine actor and one of the hardest-working Brits in this town. There are so many English actors playing Americans this year (with very good American accents, I may add) that I defensively wanted to start checking their green cards, but Wilkinson was especially good in “Michael Clayton” and I certainly wouldn’t begrudge him the prize. I didn’t even know that nominee Hal Holbrook was in “Into the Wild,” a film I’ve been wanting to see for months (why has it barely appeared in any theatres here?). I saw him do Mark Twain years ago (who didn’t?) and I was happy to see him nominated. His wife Dixie Carter got an Emmy nomination this year but this may be the first Oscar ceremony she’s attending. I always thought Casey Affleck was a better actor than his older brother and thought Ben did an excellent job of directing him in this year’s “Gone Baby Gone” but that’s not what he’s nominated for. To be honest, I’ve never even heard of “The Assassination of Jesse James,” what did it have, a three-day run? I’ll try to find it before the Oscar telecast (how could a Brad Pitt film get so buried?). I’ve also been eager to see “No Country for Old Men.” Javier Bardem already won a Golden Globe and SAG award for his role in this film and my gut says his streak will continue on Oscar night. Update: I've now seen "Into the Wild" and "No Country for Old Men" and I want to change my vote. Not that I don't think Javier Bardem did a great job with that horrific role, but frankly, I'd give it to all of the nominees before him. Holbrook was extremely moving in his brief scene. I'd really like to see Wilkinson get it. Why the heck wasn't Paul Dano nominated for "There Will Be Blood?"

Best Supporting Actress. Okay, at least I’ve seen three out of five of the nominated performances here. I absolutely loved Saoirse Ronan in “Atonement,” I thought she was extraordinary. (Does every English girl that appears in a movie these days have to grow up and become Vanessa Redgrave in the last twenty minutes of the film? Not that I mind, Redgrave was wonderful in her short role as the elderly Briony Tallis.) At 13, Ronan is not quite the youngest nominee—our friend Quinn was 10 when she was nominated for “The Goodbye Girl” (Vanessa Redgrave won that year) and Tatum O’Neal was 10 when she got the Oscar for “Paper Moon,” but worthy as Saoirse is, I hope she doesn’t win. I’m wary of actors getting too much acclaim and attention that early. She’ll have other shots at the award, perhaps sooner than we think. Right now she’s filming the very controversial “The Lovely Bones.” I want to see “I’m Not There,” especially Cate Blanchett’s nominated performance. My brother-in-law has a song in the film (where’s his damn nomination?) and it certainly seems like an intriguing if potentially pretentious movie. I loved what I saw of Blanchett (and the late Heath Ledger) in the previews and Cate’s already won a Golden Globe for this gender-bender. Tilda Swinton was exquisite as always in “Michael Clayton” (again with the American accent!) in what was not an easy role but I doubt she’ll win. How great is it to see 83-year-old Ruby Dee nominated in the same category as 13-year-old Saoirse Ronan. The legendary Dee won the SAG award for her brief performance in “American Gangster” and who would deny that dame anything? But for some reason, I’m going to go out on a HUGE limb here and pick Amy Ryan for her complex, unpleasant, and expert performance in Ben Affleck’s “Gone Baby Gone.” This wonderful actress managed to present a thoroughly unsympathetic character with incredible nuance and vulnerability. And the beautiful actress didn’t mind looking hideous to do it. I hope she gets it.

Best Actor. Again, I’ve only seen three of the five performances so with all due respect, I will immediately rule out Tommy Lee Jones in “In the Valley of Elah” and Viggo Mortenson in “Eastern Promises.” Sorry, guys, I know it’s not fair. George Clooney is a fine actor and was awfully good in “Michael Clayton” but he’ll have to be satisfied with the Oscar he’s already won for “Syriana.” There’s been a lot of criticism of Tim Burton’s grim version of “Sweeney Todd,” but I liked it a lot, even though it’s extremely different from the Angela Lansbury Broadway musical. I enjoyed Depp in the title role and even thought his singing was pretty good, but despite his Golden Globe, I’d be shocked if he got the Oscar. Nope, it has to be Daniel Day-Lewis for his amazing performance in the haunting “There Will Be Blood.” He made this film, no question about it. Apparently he’s one of those actors who never goes out of character while making a film which probably makes him a pain in the ass in real life, but it sure pays off when he disappears into every role he takes on. Get ready for your second Best Actor Oscar, Daniel, it’s on its way. He’s already won the Golden Globe, the New York Film Critics award, and the SAG award which he dedicated to Heath Ledger.

Best Actress. Wow, this is the only category where I’ve seen all five performances! Just goes to show how much I dig those chick flicks! Cate Blanchett, I worship you, you are one of the most talented actresses on the planet and I was willing to tie myself to the front of the Kodak Theatre if you didn’t win an Oscar three years ago for playing Katharine Hepburn in “The Aviator.” But it ain’t gonna happen this time, your highness. Besides, I don’t think the Academy would vote for Queen Elizabeth two years in a row, even though Helen Mirren won for playing Queen Elizabeth II! I was delighted to see Ellen Page get a nomination for the wonderful “Juno,” a film I hope everyone goes to see. But she’s awfully young and I think many Academy voters might have been turned off by this oddball look at teenage pregnancy. The other day I was sitting next to nominee Laura Linney in a deli and found her to be the most normal, down-to-earth person in the world. Talk about someone who has not been negatively affected by her fame. I will go to see anything that Linney is in, even if it sounds horrible. I loved “The Savages” and thought her performance was incredibly poignant. But no, it’s clear that this year’s contest is a showdown between veteran Oscar winner Julie Christie for “Away from Her” and Marion Cotillard for “La Vie en Rose.” Cotillard’s magnificent portrayal of Edith Piaf was nothing short of channeling (although a movie star friend of ours who knew Edith Piaf begs to differ) and if she wins she’ll join a very short list of actors who won Oscars for non-English movies (has there been anyone other than Sophia Loren and Roberto Benigni?). Kendall loved Cotillard so much that I risk major marital strife when I say that I think Julie Christie’s heartbreaking portrayal of a woman suffering from Alzheimer’s will win it by a nose. (And what a gorgeous 65-year-old nose it is!) How cool that she last won the Best Actress Oscar a whopping 43 years ago! Way to bookend your career, Julie! Of course, I hope her career is far from over.

Best Director. Oh hell, I’m so bad at guessing this category I shouldn’t even try. Especially since I haven’t seen Julian Schnabel’s “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” or the Coen brothers’ “No Country for Old Men.” I can’t see Jason Reitman getting it for “Juno” (he’ll have more chances) or Tony Gilroy for his excellent “Michael Clayton.” The Coens have been raking in the awards this season but I’m going to go with my gut and predict that the gifted and challenging director Paul Thomas Anderson will pull out a win for his somber epic “There Will Be Blood.” He certainly deserves it.

Best Picture. Oh boy, this one could go any way. There have been some major shocks over the years in this category. “The Greatest Show on Earth” won over “High Noon” and “The Quiet Man.” Are you kidding me? The bloated “Around the World in Eighty Days” beat out “Giant,” “The King and I,” and “The Ten Commandments.” “Gigi” won over “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” “The Defiant Ones,” and “Separate Tables.” Hello? I still can’t believe “Gladiator” won in 2000, not exactly a film that will withstand the test of time, in my opinion. So I have no idea what will happen this year. “Atonement” has been winning lots of awards so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s chosen, but I can even imagine the Academy picking “Juno” for the top prize, who knows? I doubt that “Michael Clayton” will nab it and I do think it’s probably a toss-up between “No Country for Old Men” and “There Will Be Blood.” Having not seen the former, I’ll choose “Blood,” but I’m glad I’m not betting the farm on this prediction.

And there you have it. I’ll comment on some of the other nominations at a later date since this post is already longer than Greer Garson’s acceptance speech. And now I’ll take this opportunity to correct that oft-reported slander against lovely Miss Garson. Despite the legend, she did NOT go on and on for close to an hour when she won an Oscar in 1943, but she did speak for over five minutes, still an eternity in Oscar-land. Today’s winners are lucky to get out twenty seconds of thank yous before the orchestra starts giving them the bum’s rush. That tactless gesture of playing music over the winners’ speeches is my least favorite part of the Oscar telecast. Maybe we’ll be spared it this year when none of the nominees cross the picket line.

War on Terror

Why do we humans go out of our way to terrorize ourselves? Why do we love watching our adrenaline levels shoot through the roof? Being the movie snob that I am, I tend to avoid most major blockbusters and head straight for the smaller independent or foreign films. But Kendall and I have been on a mainstream kick lately. In the past few weeks, we saw not one but two mega-popular post-apocalyptic films set in New York, “I Am Legend” and “Cloverfield.”

God, I’m exhausted.

“I Am Legend” is based on the 1954 novel by Richard Matheson, a book that had already been made into two films: “The Last Man on Earth” (1964) and “The Omega Man” (1971) starring Charlton Heston. Each version dutifully reflected the terror triggers of its day. In “The Omega Man,” humanity is nearly wiped out because of biological warfare between China and the Soviet Union. The current film presents a clever and horrifying twist on the coming apocalypse. Set in the year 2012, we see a news broadcast from three years earlier in which a doctor (played by a deliciously arrogant Emma Thompson) announces triumphantly that the cure to cancer has finally been found by making special adaptations to the measles virus and then using it to inoculate cancer patients. But this genetically re-engineered miracle, touted as the highest achievement in the history of science, unexpectedly mutates and becomes an airborne contagion, leading to the death of 90% of the planet in a matter of months. A tiny percentage of people are immune to the virus and the rest of the survivors degenerate into a less-than-human primal state, overtaken by aggression and unable to withstand light (a nod to the original book’s vampire plot). These monsters have a thirst for human blood, and they go after the survivors with a vengeance. By 2012, virologist Robert Neville (Will Smith) believes he is the last healthy human being left in New York, and perhaps the world.

I mostly wanted to see the film because I was fascinated by the idea of what New York would look like after people were gone, and indeed, the special effects do not disappoint. Waist-high grass growing out of the cracks in Times Square, the return of lush greenery throughout the city, herds of deer and other animals roaming the streets of Manhattan (including lions which must have escaped from the abandoned zoo). The three-year-old Christmas decorations were perfectly decayed, the 2009 gas prices were still in view (over $6.50 a gallon!), and it was interesting to get repeated glimpses of the signs describing the medical quarantine New York was under before everyone died or was killed. The only unrealistic thing in the background shots, as Kendall pointed out, was the Times Square billboard for the Broadway musical “Legally Blonde”—no way would that turkey would still be playing at the end of 2009!

I don’t want to give much more of the plot away except to say that Smith’s interactions with these zombie mutants scared the living crap out of us. Honestly, Kendall and I were digging our nails so hard into each other’s arms I thought we’d leave the theatre looking like deformed zombies. There were some scenes that were so grisly and terrifying that I had to avert my eyes, wuss that I am, and I kept asking myself why we willingly put ourselves through such torture. What is up with our desire to be gripped in fear at the movies? Is it because we then get to go out into the scary real world and realize that it isn’t as bad we thought? To make matters worse, the geniuses in the movie industry think that everyone who goes to a scary action film ONLY wants to see scary action films so we were treated to what seemed like dozens of bone-chilling trailers, each one more horrifying than the next. By the end of the night I was ready to check myself into a VA hospital for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. No, these movies are NOT for me.

Then what the hell were we doing back at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre less than two weeks later for yet another scarier than shit vision of New York City in peril? Truth be told, we couldn’t resist the ad campaign. The teaser for “Cloverfield” showed the Statue of Liberty with her head crudely ripped off and contained the tagline “Some Thing Has Found Us.” Ah, but what? When I drove by Grauman’s last weekend, I nearly crashed my car into the famous forecourt when I passed the gigantic scale model of the Statue of the Liberty (without the head, of course) serving as a promotional tool for the film. Cool.

“Cloverfield” is presented (a la “Blair Witch Project”) entirely as a series of home videos that were supposedly found “in the area formerly known as Central Park.” I thought watching two hours of shaky handheld “amateur” footage would drive me nuts, but I found it to be an interesting and terrifying technique. The only implausible part was imagining a video camera battery that would last that long and wondering how anyone would have the wherewithal to keep shooting during some of the more horrifying moments of the film. Again, I don’t want to spoil the story for any of you suckers who want to put yourselves through that agony, but I will say that I think it would have been even more powerful had they refrained from showing the actual “thing” that was terrorizing New York as much as they did. It’s always scarier not to know what you’re dealing with. But I simultaneously liked and was frustrated by the fact that they never explained how this “thing” got there in the first place or what happened afterwards. (I’m already hearing talk of a sequel, God help us.)

The filmmakers are being criticized in some circles for exploiting September 11th imagery, but how can you show buildings collapsing in New York City without being reminded of that event? Still, some of the scenes were lifted straight out of the videos taken on that day such as the paper from office buildings raining down on the population and people rushing into convenience stores to escape the swiftly moving debris cloud caused by the falling buildings. Would we even be able to conceive of such images if we hadn’t seen them for ourselves on 9/11? Is it wrong to play on those fears in a piece of fiction like this? But in other ways the screenwriters seemed to be going out of their way to avoid certain allusions. Before the source of the catastrophic destruction of New York City is known, not a single character is heard even speculating that it may be the result of another act of terrorism. Wouldn’t that be the first thing to cross the mind of any New Yorker?

And about that iconic image of the headless Statue of Liberty, a symbol so potent that it definitely evokes the prospect of a deliberate act against this country, my biggest complaint is a visual one. The missing head eventually crashes into the neighborhood where our protagonists reside and it’s immediately clear to anyone who has ever stood in that crown (as I did several times before September 11th) that the scale is way off, the head is much too small. Why would the special effects designers be that careless? (I just saw some articles claiming that it’s the correct size but I find that hard to believe.)

Again, I felt great relief walking back out onto Hollywood Boulevard and realizing that there was no imminent threat to life as we know it. But I was so shaken by the film that any sudden sound or shift of light in my peripheral vision during the car ride home made me jump out of my skin. We can repeat “it’s only a movie, it’s only a movie” but do our bodies know the difference? Do we experience the same effects on our cells that such terror might have caused if it had all been real?

I’m still left wondering what the psychological draw is. I can’t say I really enjoyed either of these films although I admired both of them technically. And it’s not like I only prefer happy-go-lucky musicals either, some of my all-time favorite films are impossibly grim depictions of the ugliest parts of human nature. I guess I just need more payoff than these two films provided. For my money, a much more fulfilling terror-fest on the screen right now is the Spanish film “The Orphanage,” an exquisite look at childhood fears, the extremes of parental love, and creepy supernatural phenomena (that also scared the bejeesus out of us). And if you’re looking for real-life terror, I highly recommend the documentary “Nanking” that tells the horrific story of what happened to the population of the Chinese capital in 1937 when the city was occupied by Japanese forces. That is a story that really must be told and it is one that, unlike many of the fictional depictions of terror, contains moments that are truly life-inspiring and heroic.

Fox News Hits a New Low

Is there anyone left who still believes that Fox News practices "€œfair and balanced"€ anything? In my opinion this news outlet is the closest our mainstream media has ever come to Germany'€™s "€œDer Sturmer" magazine, the Nazi propaganda tool whose primary purpose was to whip up hatred for Jews and other targeted groups. Every issue of "Der Sturmer" carried the paper'€™s motto, "€œDie Juden sind unser Ungluck!" ("€œThe Jews are our misfortune!"€). Fox should just adopt that slogan and replace Jews with gays, liberals, or any of the other groups its on-air personalities despise and consistently demean.

I can rarely stomach listening to the TV or radio versions of this biased network, but I was sickened to hear the gleeful and mocking way Fox News host John Gibson reported the tragic death of actor Heath Ledger yesterday. He opened his radio show with funeral music, played the "€œI wish I knew how to quit you"€ clip from "Brokeback Mountain"€ and then laughingly stated "Well, he found out how to quit you."€ Throughout the show, he continued to make fun of Ledger'€™s death, calling him a "weirdo"€ and repeatedly playing another "€œBrokeback Mountain"€ clip in which Ledger'€™s character says "We'€™re dead!"€ and then repeating "€œWe'€™re dead! We'€™re dead!"€ in a mocking tone.

Ledger'€™s death served as the running joke for Gibson and his guests throughout the broadcast. Did he off himself because of the state of the stock market? Did he want to die because he watched the Clinton-Obama debate the night before? It'€™s apparently not the first time Gibson has used his airtime for such offensive remarks. He's joked about terrorists bombing Paris, he'€™s made many disparaging comments about African-Americans and Hispanics, and he's stated on Fox News that non-Christians were "following the wrong religion"€ and that "€œthey know who they'€™re going to have to answer to."€ Compared to Gibson, Don Imus sounds like Mother Teresa. If you want to hear Gibson's Heath Ledger rant for yourself, you can check it out here.

After first claiming he'd done nothing wrong ("Why pass up a good joke?" he said about using the "€œBrokeback Mountain"€ clip), public outrage must have mounted to the point where the network forced his hand and he issued a wan apology on both his radio and TV shows. An apology that I don'€™t buy for a second. I will never listen to this putz but I'm horrified that he has such a huge forum to spread his hate-filled invective about any group that he decides deviates from his so-called "Christian"€ values. Heath Ledger took the hit not because he was gay, which he wasn't, but because he portrayed a gay man in a film. Apparently to Gibson and his rabid minions that'€™s all it takes to be branded a "€œweirdo"€ whose death at age 28 need not be mourned. Dehumanize, dehumanize, dehumanize, that's the Goebbels way. If gay people, or the people who play them in movies, or the people who support them in any way are less than human, we can certainly laugh at their deaths without any guilt, right?

And now today, members of Fred Phelps'€™ disgusting Westboro Baptist Church plan to show up at Ledger'€™s funeral in New York with their hateful signs and chants. As Phelps'€™ daughter said on ABC news last night, the church believes Ledger "misused the giant megaphone given to him by God Almighty to speak the truth about fags."€ Charming. A press release on their web site about Heath Ledger is so repulsive that I can'€™t even bring myself to quote from it on the day that this wonderful actor and father is being laid to rest.

Bill Idelson & Lois Nettleton

The new year is only three weeks old and we’ve already lost three icons from the Golden Age of Television. In addition to the great Suzanne Pleshette, two other amazing talents have left us: writer/actor Bill Idelson and actress Lois Nettleton.

Idelson was the former writing partner of our close family friend, Sam Bobrick (my dad met him in his kindergarten class in Chicago in the 1930s and they’ve been best buds ever since). Together Bill and Sam wrote some of the most beloved TV shows of the 1960s from “The Andy Griffith Show” to “The Flintstones” to the brilliant “Get Smart.” Bill Idelson also achieved fame as an actor, from his days in early radio to priceless stints on shows like “My Three Sons,” “The Twilight Zone,” and “Perry Mason.” His biggest claim to fame, at least to people who worship the old “Dick Van Dyke Show” (and what sentient being doesn’t?), was his recurring role as Herman Glimscher, Sally Rogers’ schlemiel of a boyfriend who was permanently attached to his unseen mother’s apron strings. Idelson was also a sitcom producer—his biggest show was, strangely enough, the original “Bob Newhart Show” starring Suzanne Pleshette. Bill’s wife of 56 years, Seemah Wilder, is a close friend of our pal and fellow blogger, Naomi Caryl. We recently saw Seemah give an incredibly moving performance in a local production of Paul Osborn’s “Morning’s at Seven” co-starring Betty Garrett. She and Bill met when they appeared in a play together almost six decades ago. In more recent times, Bill Idelson taught writing workshops and wrote a bunch of books including the popular “Writing for Dough: Adventures of a TV Comedy Writer.” His brand of writing cannot be beat.

Lois Nettleton was another favorite of mine (ironically, she also knew Sam, having appeared in one of his plays as well as one of my father-in-law’s). Although she never became a household name, she was an actor’s actor, always superb on the stage and in her countless appearances on television. “I’m a character actress,” she said once in an interview. “I always wanted to be as different in everything as possible.” And boy was she. From the WJM-TV station manager who had the hots for Lou Grant on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” to Dorothy’s lesbian friend who had a crush on Rose in “The Golden Girls,” Nettleton could be called on for any type of role and she’d always seem real and entirely believable. She won an Emmy for playing Susan B. Anthony and appeared on a terrifying episode of “The Twilight Zone” that I recently watched in which she portrayed a New York artist who was trying to cope with the increasing heat and imminent doom caused by a change in the Earth’s orbit. Nettleton was always a great screamer—I’ll never forget her blood-curdling howl and collapse when the temperature reaches 140 and her oil paintings start to melt before her eyes!

My favorite Lois Nettleton role was her star turn in the Norman Lear late-night soap opera “All That Glitters” in 1977. This nightly show, coming just after Lear’s success with “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman,” depicted a complete role reversal between the sexes. Women held all the power and were the primary breadwinners while men were little more than sex objects for the women. I’m sure the show would seem terribly dated today but it was a hoot at the time and spawned a lot of thoughtful dialogue about gender roles in this country. The great cast included Eileen Brennan, Linda Gray, Jessica Walter, Gary Sandy, Greg Evigan, Anita Gillette, and Barbara Baxley. Nettleton played corporate honcho Christina Stockwood who was having an affair with her hunky secretary (Gary Sandy) while married to her schlubby overweight househusband played by Chuck McCann. She attacked the role with relish and played one of the best sexist pigs seen on TV in the 70s!

Bill Idelson and Lois Nettleton were born in the neighboring Chicago suburbs of Forest Park and Oak Park. Nettleton attended the Goodman School of Drama and was Miss Chicago 1948. I’m sure the paths of these two talented people passed in my home town and in my current one. They will be missed everywhere.

Suzanne Pleshette

“Suzanne Pleshette is the sort to make truck drivers whistle and wolves come running, but there’s a lot more than that. There’s intrigue and delicate sophistication, sound balance, and a keen mind along with star talent.” That’s how columnist Hedda Hopper described the young actress in 1962. She had already made a big splash on Broadway as Anne Bancroft’s replacement in “The Miracle Worker” and was doing tons of work on television and in mostly forgettable films (her early work in Hitchcock’s “The Birds” being an exception). In an era of sexpots and bubbleheads, Pleshette was the beauty with the brains so of course Hollywood wasn’t sure what to do with her. As another reporter wrote that year, “Beauty and sex aren’t everything in the land of make-believe, it’s just that no one can remember what comes next. Suzanne Pleshette might be the answer.”

For her part, Pleshette had an awareness of herself that belied her twenty-five years. “I think my personality precedes my looks. I’m candid to a fault without being cruel. I have a faculty for saying what I think without editing what I say. I have a great zest for life. I look forward to every day and the people that I meet. I love any situation that affords humor and I’ll respond to it.”

Can’t ask for more than that. She caught a break in films with “If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium” (I remember watching that zany farce at the Chicago’s Granada Theatre in June 1969) and then three years later entered the pantheon of immortal TV wives when she nabbed the role of Emily Hartley on the old “Bob Newhart Show.” Like Mary Tyler Moore’s Laura Petrie before her, Pleshette’s Emily started out as a straight man and foil for her befuddled psychologist husband, but her comic timing and acting chops were so apparent that soon whole episodes were centered around her character. Her TV immortality was assured when she appeared on the final episode of Newhart’s second TV series. The entire series, in which Newhart and actress Mary Frann played Vermont innkeepers, was passed off a dream when Bob woke up in bed next to Suzanne Pleshette in their old Chicago apartment. Newhart starts describing his crazy life at the New England Inn causing Suzanne’s Emily Hartley to quip, “That’s the last time you eat Japanese food before bed.” The best series ending in the history of television.

Suzanne Pleshette died this weekend after a battle with lung cancer. She was hoping to be able to attend the ceremony on Hollywood Boulevard next Thursday (on what would have been her 71st birthday) to receive her long overdue star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She will be remembered for her husky voice, her bawdy mouth (she could out-swear a sailor), and her many close friendships. She married another Newhart regular, Tom Poston, in 2001 after they were both widowed and it was a great love match. Poston died last year, and then Pleshette got sick herself.

At a Newhart reunion gathering a few months ago, she talked about the time she told Bob that she and Poston had been lovers years earlier, when they were appearing in a play on Broadway in 1959. “I told Bob I used to fuck him,” Pleshette recalled. “And Bob, as usual, said ‘That's more information than I need.’” Someone asked how she thought Newhart and Pleshette might have fared as a real-life married couple. “Suzanne and Bob?” she asked, aghast. “He would have killed himself!” Newhart had to agree. “I would have spent most of my time apologizing to people for her language.”

Turn. Off. Your. Damn. Cell. Phone.

What’s the one thing worse than listening to idiots talk on their cell phones all day long in inappropriate ways? You guessed it—listening to people rail against the idiots and their cell phones. And yet here I go, I can’t help it. Lately I’ve been noticing an exponential increase in the amount of irritating cell phone abusers in this city. I don’t want to be as annoying as these buffoons so I’ll just mention the one cell phone offense that has been making me crazy all week:

Talking on your cell phone while being waited on by someone.

When I was young I had several jobs in which I had to interact with the public. My first job at the age of 15 was working the counter at Wolfy’s Hot Dogs in Chicago at $2.10 an hour. I later walked the floors at my grandfather’s clothing store, Karoll’s Red Hanger Shop, on State Street just across from Marshall Field’s, and I spent my college years dishing out boeuf bourgignon and spinach crepes at a wonderful French restaurant called Gare St. Lazare on Armitage and Halsted. I realized early on that working with the public was not my life’s calling. I found it difficult to deal with the belligerent junk food consumers who complained that the tomatoes on their hot dogs weren’t red enough or the ones who ordered hot dogs with everything on it but hold the hot dog and then yelled at me because the manager insisted that I charge them full price for a steamed bun swimming in condiments. At the clothing store I grew weary of the people who expected me to follow them around exclusively for a good hour, as if I were their personal shopper at Harrod’s, even though they had no intention of buying a single thing and left our dressing rooms looking like the French Quarter after Hurricane Katrina. And at the restaurant I could barely hide my contempt for the posers who would send back bottle after bottle of perfectly good wine and then stub out their cigarettes right on their dinner plates in a puddle of beurre blanc sauce even though the ashtray was three inches away.

Yes, consumers can be boorish and inconsiderate, and there have always been those who refuse to look directly at the people helping them as if making eye contact would doom them to a life of retail drudgery. But at least back in the 1970s we could more or less get the attention of the people we were attempting to serve. I don’t think I would last ten minutes in retail today if I had to cope with the inconsiderate boor’s new handmaiden: the cell phone.

It’s bad enough to even talk on a cell phone in a public space such as a restaurant or store and force innocent bystanders to listen to piercingly loud accounts of the banalities of your life. But what’s been driving me over the edge this week is the people I’ve seen who don’t even pause from their conversations when they reach the head of a line or when a waiter or waitress is waiting for their order. I was in a crowded Starbucks the other day and watched two different people get to the front of a line and hold out their finger to the barista who was waiting for their order as if to say, “hey buddy, I’m on an important call, I’ll give you my order when I’m good and ready, to hell with the 15 people waiting patiently behind me.” Do you think I’d last very long in the Starbucks empire if I treated every cell phone as a Romulan cloaking device and ignored that customer until the phone was back in their pocket where it belonged? My Star Trek imagery is appropriate considering the wireless earpieces these idiots tend to wear all day long that make them look like Lieutenant Uhura wannabes. Please adjust your intergalactic frequencies before we enter warp speed. Yes, I wear such an earpiece when I’m in my car, but I would never keep it on while in a restaurant or at some other social encouter, like a warning to whomever I’m with that I will jump at the chance to talk to someone more interesting than they are.

I was in line at a fancy Beverly Hills shop the other day that actually sported a sign that said “We will be happy to serve you when you are not on your cell phone.” Right on, I thought. Except at that very moment a young woman clutching an iPhone to her ear and a distant gaze in her eyes waltzed up to the counter and never paused from the excruciating play-by-play of her boring day. She tried to fish out her money with her one available hand and despite the sign, the hapless clerk just accepted the rude behavior. At Whole Foods that night I noticed several people yammering away on their Helios or Sidekicks as the cashier rang up their orders. The cell phone use didn’t necessarily slow down the line in those cases but it still infuriated me since the talkers never made eye contact with the Whole Foods employees and treated them like they were faceless automatons.

Yesterday I was having lunch with a friend at one of my favorite coffee shops when a sitcom star we both recognized entered the café wearing a Gene Roddenberry-inspired earpiece. She continued her conversation in full volume, her hands gesticulating wildly, her cell phone not visible. She looked like a crazy woman and the entire café had to listen to her semi-hysterical tirade. I’d blame it on the stress caused by the WGA strike except this woman seemed so used to talking that way that I wouldn’t be surprised to learn her earpiece had been surgically implanted during her last botox treatment.

Technology is a wonderful thing. It’s hard to even imagine how we managed our busy lives before the advent of cell phones. Yet their role in the decay of everyday social graces is mind-boggling. Oh, I’m not blaming the innocent little cell phone, a handy and sometimes lifesaving device, just the lummoxes who can’t pause from their cell phone addiction long enough to realize how incredibly rude and irritating they are being to the real life human beings who are trying to help them. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Other trends I’ve noticed in the past few months include people unabashedly using their cell phones in movie theatres without apology, bike riders holding their phones to their ears as they careen down busy city streets, and drivers texting their friends while entering perilous intersections. If I’m not felled by a cell phone driver some time in the coming year, I may find myself frothing at the mouth from a bad case of cell phone rage. I say we send a strong message to these abusers.

Workers of the World Unite:
Stop Serving People Who Are Talking on Their Cell Phones!

One Reason Not to Not Vote for Hillary

That’s not a typo in the title of this post, but let me assure you that I have NO interest in trying to persuade anyone to support one candidate over another in this year’s presidential election. Speaking only in terms of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, I’ve heard compelling reasons why each one of them deserves the nomination and I’ve also heard compelling reasons why we should be wary and cautious about each one. But right now I don’t want to discuss policies, platforms, experience, rhetoric, or past mistakes, I just want to talk about one specious argument for not voting for Hillary Clinton that I’ve heard multiple times during the past week. I first heard it at a dinner party over the weekend from a liberal middle-aged woman who describes herself as a feminist, then from a younger woman having a heated discussion with her friends at Farmers Market, then from a call-in guest on a progressive radio talk show, and finally, from a woman’s comment on a very liberal-minded blog I read regularly. Here’s the argument:

Whatever we think about Hillary Clinton, it would be irresponsible to vote for her for President because tensions are so high in the Middle East right now and we’d lose all credibility with Arab and Islamic leaders who would never agree to sit down with a woman to work out the challenges between our countries. It’s unfortunate that those male leaders are so sexist, but darn it, they are, it’s a cultural thing, and this is just not the time to antagonize them further by electing a female Commander-in-Chief. It would be fantastic to have a woman as President some day, but at this critical time it would put us at a serious disadvantage in the world since a woman could never gain the respect of many world leaders and their constituents. After all, look what happened to Benazir Bhutto.

Of all the arguments against Hillary Clinton, and there are plenty of legitimate ones that could be raised, this line of reasoning is so appalling to me that I almost wonder if it was put out by the Clinton campaign itself since my first instinct is to cover my lawn with “Hillary for President” placards. Is such an argument only possible because of the continued dearth of female candidates on the national stage? Would people be espousing it if the majority of the candidates in this election were women (and why the hell aren’t more of them at this point)? While the response to Clinton’s campaign has in some ways been far less sexist than reactions to Geraldine Ferraro or Pat Schroeder’s runs, I find this current argument more outrageous than anything I ever heard about those two. People shouldn’t vote for Hillary Clinton just because she is a woman, but they sure as hell shouldn’t not vote for her because Islamic fundamentalists wouldn’t like it. I’m especially stunned that I’ve heard this argument mostly from liberal-minded women who viewed Ferraro’s place on the 1984 ticket as a watershed event for this country. What gives? And how is it different from saying that we should never elect a Jewish President since that would antagonize the leaders of the Arab world (as it surely would)? No doubt an African-American leader would offend some countries as well, and we better not consider electing anyone with an ethnic background that would bother the Chinese since we need to work closely with that important government.

I’m particularly disgusted at the way Benazir Bhutto’s name is brought into the discussion as “proof” that women should not try to lead during these troubled times. When did people in this country start using assassinations as reasons to cease and desist from their own beliefs? Is that how these people felt after the murders of Martin Luther King, Jr. or Bobby Kennedy? Maybe I’m just being hopelessly naïve. Maybe they’re right and we just can’t have women in high positions until things “calm down” over there. After all, we want to make sure that people all over the planet have the same unmitigated love and respect for our next President as they do for George W. Bush, right?

Ringing in the New Year: 1958

Why am I so obsessed with the past? Why can I happily spend hour after hour pouring over obscure articles in newspaper archives or decaying magazines that are at least a half century old? Just ask Kendall, who has to listen to me recount long forgotten news events with same breathless excitement as a reporter announcing an important story from this morning.

Our glamorous friend Kerry recently had a dinner to mark her 50th birthday. Instead of place cards she had the clever idea to mark each person’s place with a magazine from the year of her birth. She matched each magazine to the person, which gave us all a window into how she sees us. Kerry’s mom is an actress who co-starred in one of the most popular sitcoms on the air in 1957 so she was mentioned in many of the magazines. At her place at the dinner was a copy of the 1957 Life magazine that heralded the arrival of Liza Todd, daughter of Elizabeth Taylor, who looked impossibly beautiful and made up for someone who just gave birth. (Kerry may not have made the cover of Life, but she was definitely a cuter baby.)

Kendall got a copy of “Modern Screen” that blared the headline “Doris Day’s Escape from Hell.” Perfect. The magazine also had Kim Novak declaring that “One Man Is Not Enough,” and an article about June Allyson’s private life with a minute-by-minute accounting of her day.

9:07: June looks in the mirror. The children have been awakened and shooed off the school, so June takes a solid two minutes to skip a powder puff across her nose.
9:09: First report of the day goes to Mrs. Edgar Bergen. June and Frances discuss life in general for twenty-seven minutes.
9:58: June explains to secretary that her first task is to straighten out the schedule. June just can't say no, she she and Dick are expected for dinner in four places!

We are treated to Debbie Reynolds’ guide to dealing with life’s difficulties: “When something awful happens to you, you can drive it into the ground if you want to, but if you laugh at it, it somehow no longer seems so terrible.” Debbie would get a chance to test this philosophy the following year when best friend Liz Taylor would run off with Debbie's husband, Eddie Fisher. There is an exposé by closeted actor Tony Perkins called “The Types of Girls I Can’t Stand”—“If you’re trapped with a clinging vine at a party, you can be deep in conversation with Cecil B. De Mille, and she’ll still tug at your arm—‘Tony, get me a sandwich,’ she’ll plead as though she had two broken arms and a sprained ankle.”

For me, Kerry chose a 1957 magazine with Pat Boone on the cover. “Will Pat Last Longer Than Elvis?” the magazine wondered.

The battle of the century is on, kids! Will Pat the Subtle outlast Elvis the Obvious? Are the kids getting bored with Sex Spelled Out a-la-Presley? Are the cool kids gravitating toward the more muted amorous effusions of gentle Mr. Boone?

Turns out he would last much longer. Though the two men were the same age, Elvis has been dead for 30 years and Pat Boone is still going strong. We all know how Elvis deteriorated before he died, but when I ran into Pat Boone a few years ago in the steam room at my health club (where is my cell phone camera when I need it?), he looked shockingly young and fit. Elvis and Pat were both devout Christians but Pat seemed to tow the born-again line with more verve. When he made “April Love” in 1957, he refused to kiss Shirley Jones, his love interest in the film, because she was married in real life. Oh, Pat! Lovely Shirley is all over both magazines.

We asked Shirley Jones, bride of Jack Cassidy, and beautiful 20th star, to plan a shopping tour to help you buy new clothes. Buy Shirley’s selections and you’ll be the best dressed gal of 1958—even in Hollywood!

The still well dressed star is making an appearance tonight at the American Cinematheque in Hollywood following a screening of “Oklahoma.” Guess where I’ll be? My magazine also included an article asking “Does Jayne Mansfield Go Too Far?”

”That girl really overdoes the body bit,” the teenager said to her date as they came out of a showing of “The Girl Can’t Help It.” In order to avoid an argument on the subject of Body Bountiful Jayne Mansfield, the boy answered with a non-commital, “Well, men see Jayne differently than women do.”

The question of whether Natalie Wood is “naughty or nice” is pondered.

Sure Natalie likes to be kissed. She admits liking the velvet feel of a boy’s clean-shaven cheek and the smell of shaving lotion. But what girl doesn’t?

After dumping a series of guys, including Elvis, Natalie has started dating young heartthrob Bob Wagner.

Will Bob be IT? Only Natalie can tell, but if we know Miss Hearts-and-Flowers, she’ll have a new love by the time you read this. That’s Nat, and that’s why we and you are so crazy about her.

Joan Crawford writes a terrifying article called “What My Marriage Means to Me.”

Let’s face it, I have an inclination to dominate—oh, not that I want to. Some of the men I knew in the past never understood that deep down I never really wanted to rule the roost. I wanted to be all-woman. I feel that I have been a good mother, a successful one, and it is comforting to have Alfred’s support, his morale-building interest in the children and their problems.

Was every leading man in the late 50s secretly gay? Three articles in the magazine come close to outing several popular stars. “Tony, Be Yourself” showed a brooding Tony Perkins who just couldn’t fit into the Hollywood scene and had the subtitle, “His sincere well-wishers are deeply concerned about he Perkins lad.” An article about Montgomery Clift begged readers, “Let’s Quit Hazing Monty!” and described Clift’s “delicate artist’s nervous system.”—“If he wants to stay home and read a book instead of chasing around the women, we say more power to him!” Finally, Tab Hunter is profiled in an article called “Boy with a Dream.” “He is striving to be an actor. They insist he’s just a body-man, a sex-boat. But Tab’s bright dream refuses to die.”

I love the ads in these magazines. Many heralded the new 1958 cars, gigantic and beautiful gas-guzzlers with fins and fine leather upholstery. The ’58 Chevrolet was billed as “Almost too new to be true!”

Never, NEVER has a car been so wonderfully new in so many different ways! Here are radical departures in style, power, and ride…all wrapped up in the longest, lowest, widest Chevrolet that ever said, “C’mon, let’s get GOING!”

Cigarettes were the dominant product at the dawn of 1958, and looking at these magazines you get an idea of the huge loss the ban on these ads must have been to the advertising industry. They all show beautiful white couples enjoying intimate moments with their cigarettes. Many were still trying to promote the alleged “health” benefits of cigarettes and a new twist was to to emphasize how light and refreshing the non-filtered cigarettes were.

Like today, there was no shortage of ads 50 years ago to make women feel insecure about their bodies. “Use Veto deodorant…because you are the very air he breathes.”

Don’t suffer from “Jean’s wretched periodic pain. It’s downright foolish to suffer in silence every month!”

“Does your smile say, KISS ME?”

And ads that really provide a time capsule look at another era: “Here’s What You Should Do About the Asiatic Flu: Take Bayer Aspirin!” “Get Your Polio Shots This Spring…and Play Safe This Summer!”

So welcome to 1958, kids! And ladies, please don’t forget…