Jew Eat Yet?

First Birthday

 

Yesterday was Charlie’s first birthday and it was a wonderful day. We had been anxious about it since it was also the first anniversary of the most traumatic day of our lives. I’ve never talked to any parents of twins who lost one of them on the day they were born, and I’d like to, because it makes for such a complex tangle of emotions. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as far as Charlie is concerned over the past year it’s how to live in the moment and appreciate all the good things as they are happening. We feel so incredibly blessed. But yesterday it was simply impossible for me not to remember that day one year ago that began with Kendall waking me up at 4 in the morning because she was in pain. I wasn’t surprised when I woke up yesterday at exactly that time, but looking over and seeing Kendall and Charlie sleeping so peacefully helped temper the memory of that rising fear that began before dawn last April 27th. 

Moments that I had completely forgotten came rushing back, such as the somber drive to the hospital, with me trying to convince Kendall that nothing was wrong, assuring her that we’d be home by 8 am. I could see that her pain was getting worse as each minute passed but we were both in denial, and I still can’t believe I left her alone out in front of the hospital as I parked the car. When I found her trying to check into the maternity floor the pain had increased so much that she could no longer stand. There were no chairs by the registration window and when she started to go down, they rushed a wheelchair over.

The next few hours were a nightmare of nurses trying to strap two fetal monitors onto Kendall’s belly. I’d never seen her in that much pain but they had to get a reading for 20 consecutive minutes and they just couldn’t do it. She got massive doses of medications designed to stop the contractions, then to help the babies’ lungs. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, she was freezing. Still, we never dreamed the babies would be born, we knew they weren’t ready. I still believed we’d be able to go home and just have Kendall take it easy but they started talking about admitting Kendall to the hospital for the remainder of her pregnancy. “Are you nuts?” we replied. “We have four more months to go!” But minutes later, after a contraction that sent the needle off the monitor and had Kendall doubled over in agonizing pain, a doctor rushed in and announced that the babies were coming, she could see Oliver’s head. “Keep your legs together!” she screamed as they wheeled Kendall away.

I’ve written about what happened next and won’t go into it again but the images from that operating room are forever burned into my mind. I remember exactly what both our sons looked like just after they were taken out and what Kendall looked like as they were stitching her up. I remember the helpless feeling overtaking me as the doctors and nurses struggled furiously to save Oliver. It did not look good—one of his lungs had blown when they tried to insert the ventilator tube and I remember hearing the phrase “catastrophic neurological damage.” Charlie was as tiny as could be and I remember the relief I felt that they seemed to be successfully inserting all of the tubes and lines that were necessary to keep him alive. Not that there was a lot of optimism expressed about his condition—and I had the doctors’ words from an hour earlier ringing in my brain: “These babies are just not ready. We’ve GOT to keep them in for another week or two.”

Sorry, I didn’t mean for Charlie's birthday post to start out this way. I’m actually way less worried now than I’ve ever been about how we are going to celebrate Charlie’s birthday in the future. Despite the terrible memories that came up yesterday, we succeeded in having a truly fun, happy day with our special birthday boy. But I can’t pretend those other feelings weren’t there, too. At 9:48, the moment Charlie was born exactly one year earlier, we were at a Peet’s Coffee on Larchmont, very meaningful for me because for some reason when Kendall was pregnant I always imagined bringing our twin boys there.

We then met Charlie’s physical therapist at Griffith Park and had a great two-hour session where we marveled at how far Charlie has come. He enjoyed his first time on the swings (he couldn’t get enough of it!), his first ride down a slide, his first playtime in a sandbox. If there’s a happier, more contented baby on the planet, I haven’t met him yet.

I made a coconut cake for Charlie’s birthday but instead of eating it ourselves, we decided to bring it over to the Cedars-Sinai NICU and give it to the amazing staff who saved our son’s life on countless occasions over the four and a half months he spent there. It was so great to see them again and to see how happy they all were to see Charlie. I will never forget these folks and it was the only place we could be on his first birthday.

Here’s how Charlie looked when he was first under their care:

 

And here he is during his triumphant return to the NICU one year later:

 

Oh, how I felt for the parents I saw going in and out of the NICU while we were there yesterday. We talked to a few of them and told them a bit of Charlie’s story. I hope it comforted them to see how a baby who was once much smaller than their babies has turned out.

We also wanted to stop by the NICU because that’s where Charlie’s brother Oliver was for the 12 short hours of his life. My daughter Leah was at the hospital on April 27th when Oliver was still alive. She wanted to see him but there was so much happening with him at that time that was very difficult to watch and I suggested we wait until later. Sadly, later never came, and while I still think that was the right decision at the time, I deeply regret that Leah never got to meet her brother. In Oliver’s memory, I’m going to repost the video Leah and I made in his honor. That’s Leah on the soundtrack singing one of her favorite songs to her little brother.

We love you, Oliver. And Charlie, we are so incredibly grateful that you are here with us and so honored to be your parents. Happy Birthday, my beautiful, sweet son, I love you so much! After the NICU, we went to a friend's house. Her 10-year-old daughter had been working on a quilt for Charlie for months and wanted to give it to him on his birthday. When we finally got home, I was exhausted. Kendall then took this photo of me and Charlie in my favorite position:

 

TCM Festival, Day 4: Queens, Peasants, and Sex Goddesses

The last day of the festival started with a big surprise. I went to the four-hour-plus screening of the 1963 version of “Cleopatra” with reluctance because I’d always heard what a monstrosity it was, taking years to produce and coming very close to bankrupting Twentieth Century Fox. I decided I’d just leave if it got too ridiculous and I suspected I’d never make it past the intermission. But guess what? I never budged from my seat. Between the insanely long film and the panel discussion with actor Martin Landau and TCM host Ben Mankiewicz (whose uncle Joseph L. Mankiewicz wrote and directed the picture), I was in the Egyptian Theatre from 9 am until just after 2. 

I loved the film. It’s too bad that the endless problems that plagued the production (including La Grande Scandale when married co-stars Liz Taylor and Richard Burton started a steamy affair) have so overshadowed the merits of the film itself. Ben told us that when his uncle, the genius behind such films as “All About Eve” and “A Letter to Three Wives,” was asked to take over the direction of the bloated production, his first response was, “Direct it? I wouldn’t even go see it!”

I expected great chemistry between Taylor and Burton, who played Mark Antony, but I was surprised at how hot the scenes were between Liz and Rex Harrison, who owned the first half of the film as Julius Caesar. Harrison was fantastic and the only actor in “Cleopatra” to get an Oscar nomination. After seeing this film, I can’t believe Liz didn’t get nominated, she’s superb in the role, from her first appearance 40 minutes in when she falls out of a rolled-up carpet to her dramatic death scene after she allows herself to be bitten by a poisonous asp. 

I would have given Liz one Oscar for her fine performance and two more for the other stars of the film—her heaving breasts. Good Lord, forgive me, but I’ve never seen body parts given such extraordinary star treatment. I don’t know what miracles of engineering costume designer Irene Sharaff managed with the help of cleverly designed gowns and a roll of gaffer’s tape, but Liz’s ample bosom got more screen time than Harrison and Burton combined, barely sheathed in over 65 costume changes, including one gown reportedly made out of 24-carat gold fabric. Mankiewicz and Landau explained that because the production of the film droned on and on over the course of three years, some scenes used moments that were shot six months apart. An actor could walk into a room in a take from March and walk out of the same room in a shot from September. This caused endless continuity problems since Liz’s weight kept fluctuating along with her tan. She might start one scene in the palace at Alexandria pale and thin and end it brown and plump. She suffered one of her many life-threatening illnesses during the making of the film, including one episode in which they were forced to perform an emergency tracheotomy on the actress. The scar from this procedure is clearly visible in many of the scenes. 

The original first cut of “Cleopatra” was over six hours long but the studios demanded that it be radically shortened. As a result, according to Landau, most of his best scenes were excised from the film including one in which he, as Mark Antony’s trusted general, cries when he hears that Antony has been killed. “Generals don’t cry,” was studio chief Darryl Zannuck’s absurd justification for the cut. Most of Mankiewicz’s brilliant lines and character development got sliced out of the film, and I only hope one day they are able to piece together a new director’s cut. But even with the massive edits, it still works. We were truly fortunate to see a gorgeous 70-mm TODD-AO print that was breathtaking. This is a film that must be seen in a big theatre and I’m so grateful I got the chance. Elizabeth Taylor insisted that the film be shot in the widescreen TODD-AO process because as Mike Todd’s widow, she received a cut of the licensing fees. Adding that to her unprecedented high salary, Taylor received over seven million dollars (in 1963!) for her part in the film, an astronomical figure considering the original budget for the entire production was reportedly only two million dollars. 

The next event, the appearance of 100-year-old Luise Rainer, on hand to introduce the 1937 film “The Good Earth,” for which she won her second consecutive Best Actress Oscar, was for me and many others the highlight of the festival. It didn’t start out well. We waited in line for quite a long time and when we were finally let in we were told that her appearance was going to be videotaped for a special on TCM. They kept us waiting longer as they set up for a real TV show taping and recorded us fake applauding, cheering, laughing, looking transfixed, and giving a standing ovation—all before Ms. Rainer came out. When she finally did appear, she announced with some agitation that she had broken her hearing aid that morning and couldn’t hear a thing. She seemed close to tears. Robert Osborne tried screaming questions into her ear but she kept saying “What?” Finally, someone in the audience held up some paper and a pen and suggested that Osborne write questions for the elderly actress. Duh! It worked like a charm. Rainer, 100 years old and deaf as a stone, was one of the most powerful speakers I’ve ever heard. She spoke eloquently of her experience in Hollywood including her decision to leave at the height of her game, and how she went about inhabiting the emotions of a character rather than acting the role.

It was mind-boggling to realize we were sitting there watching a contemporary of Irving Thalberg (who she loved), Louis B. Mayer (who she hated), and Greta Garbo (who she said was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen). Despite her amazing abilities and the fact that she won two Oscars in a row, she simply could not play the Hollywood game and she dropped out of the movie scene after making only a handful of films. She spoke of her marriage to the brilliant playwright Clifford Odets (his first play, “Awake and Sing!” is probably my favorite piece of theater) and her second husband, the real love of her life, Robert Knittel, to whom she was married for 47 years, until his death in 1989. Her description of his relationship was the only time during the four days of the festival when I was moved to tears. Rainer kept coming back to the importance of real connections between people, how we are all alike in so many ways, how love for each other is the only thing that matters. What an incredible woman, still so vibrant at the age of 100. I loved her as Anna Held in “The Great Ziegfeld” (her first Oscar-winning role) and she was wonderful as the simple Chinese peasant girl in “The Good Earth.” She refused to wear the mask the studio concocted for her so she’d look more Chinese (“Are you mad?” she said to them when they tried to cover her face) and conveyed everything she needed to do to be believable in this role with sheer talent. When asked about co-star Paul Muni she said “Oh, I’m a naughty girl” and proceeded to honestly answer the question. She hated his acting technique, so different from her own, and the fact that he had his wife sat directly under the camera for every take so she could tell him what she thought of it and if he looked good. Oy. Thalberg’s original vision for the Pearl S. Buck story was to shoot it on location in China with an all-Chinese cast but Mayer wouldn’t go for it and in the end the film was shot on a farm in Chatsworth with a motley group of Caucasians playing the leads including Dorothy’s Uncle Henry (Charley Grapewin) as Paul Muni’s father.

Last up yesterday was the near-perfect film, “Some Like It Hot.” Rabble rouser Tony Curtis, now 84, was on hand to talk about the making of the film. He came to the screening wearing a Sgt. Pepper Lonely Hearts Club t-shirt (he appeared on the original album cover), a black velvet jacket, and a white cowboy hat. The former Bernie Schwartz wowed the crowd with his stories of working with Marilyn and how he and Jack Lemmon transformed themselves into women (they used to leave the studio in full drag to see if they could fool people). Billy Wilder’s script for “Some Like It Hot” was one of his best. The audience went crazy for the film last night (including Leah who had never seen it).  

Curtis (who once took Marilyn on a date in his pale-green Buick convertible with "Dynaflow drive") was hitting on young women in the front row of the theatre and told several ribald stories, including the time when they were shooting the kissing scene on the yacht and Marilyn asked him if he had an erection. “No, honey,” he replied, “but I can get one for you if you like.” He described the costume fittings with famed designer Orry-Kelly. The designer measured Curtis and Lemmon first and then Marilyn walked into the session, wearing only panties and an barely-buttoned white blouse. Curtis nearly started hyperventilating as he remembered this image. When Orry-Kelly was measuring Monroe and got to her bottom, he cracked, “Tony Curtis has a better ass than you, Marilyn.” Monroe then opened up her shirt and said, “Maybe, but he doesn’t have these.” Curtis stood up again at the end of the film, moved by the enthusiastic response from the crowd. Jack Lemmon was great in everything he did but I think his performance as Daphne is one of the funniest ones ever recorded on film.

The past four days were pure heaven for movie lovers, I think everyone at the festival had a magical experience. I can’t wait to see the slate of films they choose for next year.

TCM Festival, Day 3: Delusion, Danger, and Disco

Another great day at the classic film festival and another day closer to the emergency eye clinic. I’m not sure the human body was designed to watch over 12 hours of projected images in one twenty-four-hour period. The movie fans on Hollywood Boulevard were starting to look a little green around the gills on Day 3. We’re all such devoted movie lovers that we couldn’t possibly miss a slot where we could be watching one of these fantastic films.

I unfortunately arrived late for my first film of the day, the magnificent “Sunset Boulevard,” and missed the talk by Nancy Olson who played Betty Schaefer, the young writer who falls in love with doomed William Holden. I remember Olson in a few Disney movies of the 1950s (“Pollyanna” and “The Absent-Minded Professor”) but her career never seemed to match the glory of “Sunset Boulevard,” her first major part. She married lyricist Alan Jay Lerner right after this film came out and became more involved in his New York theatre world. I already raved uncontrollably about the brilliance of Gloria Swanson in the part of Norma Desmond. Has any actress in Hollywood ever been better suited for a role? What atwist of fate that she was up against such amazing performances that year for the Best Actress Oscar. They should have thrown away the tallies in 1950 and just awarded Oscars to Swanson, to Bettte Davis for “All About Eve,” and to winner Judy Holliday for “Born Yesterday.” Talk about an embarrassment of riches! As we left Grauman’s, Leah found Gloria Swanson’s hand and footprints in the famous forecourt of the Chinese Theatre and we gaped at the tiny size of the prints. Did such a powerful performer really have hands and feet the size of a seven-year-old?

Next up was the frothy and oh-so-much-fun “Pillow Talk” at the Egyptian Theatre. This 1959 film, which opened when I was one-month old, was the first of three collaborations between Doris Day, Rock Hudson, and Tony Randall. I’ve seen it a million times but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch it on the big screen, like a salve for my tired eyes. I’ve already written about the under-appreciated acting chops of Doris Day and the flawless if late-starting career of Thelma Ritter. TCM host Ben Mankiewicz introduced the film and talked about the studio’s reservations about the pairing of Day and Hudson (they thought both were over the hill). But of course the film became the benchmark for the “sex comedy” genre, even though, as Mankiewicz pointed out, the leads were rarely having any sex in these films. This film contains the ironic sequence in which Rock Hudson plays a straight man pretending he’s gay just to get Doris Day in bed. Of course it was played without a hint of irony at the time, even though I’m sure everyone on the set knew that Hudson was really gay. There are so many great moments in “Pillow Talk” but the end of the film continues to infuriate me. Rock drags Doris out of bed and down New York city streets in her pyjamas while she’s screaming for help. All of the bystanders simply wink and give Rock the thumbs-up. This is hardly the film to call out the P.C. police for (they’d have to work around the clock!) but the ending never fails to shock me. Even though she claims to despise Hudson for all the lies he told her, the second he mentions marrying her, Day drops all of her concerns, as if a marriage proposal trumps any previous crimes. Ah, the movies.

I then zoomed back to Grauman’s Chinese for a screening of Hitchcock’s near-perfect “North by Northwest.” Robert Osborne called up stars Eva Marie Saint (still absolutely gorgeous at 85) and Martin Landau and the three had a wonderful conversation about the film. Eva Marie said that when she was called to Hitchcock’s house for an interview, her mother made her wear white gloves and a beige suit, saying that’s what the director likes. She did, and she got the part, but I doubt it was because of the gloves. Has there ever been a sexier spy than Eve Kendall? The film, also a 1959 release, was so laden with sexual innuendo I’m amazed they got it past the censors. Actually, not everything got through. Saint had us watch out for a bit of looping she had to do because of the censors. In the famous scene between her and Cary Grant in the train’s restaurant car, you hear Eva Marie say, “I never discuss love on an empty stomach,” while her lips are clearly saying, ‘I never make love on an empty stomach.” Martin Landau pointed out another thing we watched for. A few seconds before Eve Kendall pulls out a gun from her purse and shoots Cary Grant in the Mt. Rushmore cafeteria, a little boy sitting at a nearby table puts his fingers in his ears, as if anticipating the loud noise of the gun going off. They had obviously rehearsed this scene with the extras and the little boy knew what was coming! Landau talked about how it was his idea to imply that his character Leonard was gay, that wasn’t in the original script. Hitchcock liked the idea and even had screenwriter Ernest Lehman add a line in one scene in which Landau refers to his “woman’s intitution.” This film is a true masterpiece, they just don’t make ‘em this way anymore.

I had every intention of then attending a screening of “Singin’ in the Rain” with 86-year-old director Stanley Donen in attendance. I loved the film and looked forward to Leah seeing it on the big screen. But at the last second we hightailed it back to Grauman’s Chinese to see “The Graduate.” Oy, how to choose between these films? That’s the only agonizing part of such a festival. And while Leah had recently seen the wonderful “Singin’ in the Rain,” she didn’t remember when I made her watch “The Graduate” as a toddler and was eager to see it. Screenwriter (and Taft Hotel clerk!) Buck Henry was on hand to share his thoughts about the film. He said that he and director Mike Nichols were assuming that all of the Braddocks would be blonde and sun-kissed Californians but that as soon as Dustin Hoffman was cast, that all changed. I wrote about my love for “The Graduate” on this blog and this probably marked my hundredth viewing of the film. It’s just too good to miss, especially at a stellar venue like Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. But let’s face it—if it were playing in the produce section of my local Ralph’s, I’d be there. 

Last up was the 1977 movie that catapulted John Travolta to superstardom, “Saturday Night Fever.” Director John Badham talked with Robert Osborne before the film about the very first public screening of the film right there at Grauman’s Chinese. Apparently the industry audience hated the film and the first reviews were awful. Variety said that the movie wouldn’t make it past the first weekend. Badham left L.A. the next day for the New York premiere, fairly dejected. When he returned a few days later, he asked the driver to take him past the theatre to see what business was like. There were lines around the block, and that was for the midnight show! The film became a huge hit and should be placed in a time capsule as the representation of the short-lived but powerful cultural phenomenon known as disco. I was 18 when this film came out and actually owned several silky Qiana shirts like the ones Travolta’s Tony Manero wears to the disco. Not the high-waisted beltless pants, though. This is an iconic film and nothing beats some of Travolta’s dance numbers, but to be honest, I don't think this film stands up to the test of time as well as the others I mentioned. On the other hand, by 10 pm last night, my eyes were pools of vitreous humour and I may have been nodding out at key moments.

And now, the final day of the festival is upon us and I’m starting out this morning with the four-hour roadshow version of Liz Taylor’s “Cleopatra,” the film that nearly sank 20th Century Fox. Yes, you heard me—four hours! What am I, nuts?

Time to jump back into the Buick LaCrosse and head to Hollywood!

TCM Festival, Day 2: Monoliths, Mothers, and Melodrama

 

Best. Film Festival. Ever. Really, I’ve been to a million of them over the years but this event outdoes them all. Going from screening to screening from early in the morning to late at night of the best possible prints of some of the greatest films ever made, all introduced by film scholars and surviving cast and crew members, and all taking place in the most exquisite move palaces ever built—what could be better? 

I got less than four hours of sleep last night but I wanted to do a quick recap of the films I saw on Friday before I start my full Saturday slate. Today is going to be another very long day and I admit I’m not pacing myself at all. I’m exhausted and my eyes look like Ray Milland’s in “The Lost Weekend” but I’m barreling through because it’s just too much fun. As it is, I’m bummed that I can’t attend more of the screenings, there are so many great ones happening simultaneously. If this film festival lasted one day beyond tomorrow, I’d probably end up in the hospital. But at least I’d have a smile on my face.

I began yesterday with a screening of an amazing 70-millimeter roadshow print of Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey.” I saw that film when it first came out (I was nine) and many times since then, including anniversary showings at movie theatres, but watching this print it felt like I was seeing it for the first time. And while I used to admire it for the sheer visual spectacle, there was plenty I couldn’t begin to understand. This time I was riveted to every single frame, especially the psychedelic sequences at the end of the film. Instead of seeming like a fun backdrop for an LSD trip (which indeed it was for many teenagers in the late 1960s!), I found it a fascinating exploration of the meaning of life, God and religion, and the possibility of contact with civilizations light years beyond our own. 

I loved the film, and even felt for poor Hal 9000, the computer whose ability to experience human emotions leads to tragedy and murder. Visual effects pioneer Douglas Trumbull was there and participated in a fascinating Q & A after the film. Trumbull is a true genius and so passionate about film. He could talk for hours about the different use of film speeds and you’d be hanging on his every word. He talked about what a stickler Kubrick was for high quality images and how difficult some of the effects were to produce in 1968—some of them took weeks or longer to achieve, including a few that could be done on a laptop in a manner of seconds today. Considering the technology available to them at the time, the film is an even more remarkable achievement. Did you know Trumbull’s dad was also a special effects wizard? He even worked on “The Wizard of Oz.” Doug talked about how hurt Kubrick was by some of the reviews—critics at the time either loved or hated the film, and some were particularly cruel. But some critics came back years later with positive re-evaluations of the film, it’s the kind of movie that can have a very different impact on you at different times, depending on where you’re at in your life.

I had to leave a screening of the wonderfully gritty “Sweet Smell of Success” with Tony Curtis in attendance because the Buick folks called me to do one more video clip in front of the gorgeous Buick LaCrosse parked in the forecourt of the Egyptian Theatre. It’s verrrrrrry unusual for me to experience being in front of a camera, and as much as I cringe when I see my image and hear my voice (do I really sound like that?), I have to cop to the fact that I secretly enjoyed my brief career as a TV reporter. There was no script or anything, I would just open my mouth and start blabbing, and let’s just hope the inane conversation I had with a statue of Marilyn Monroe never sees the light of day! I didn’t mind missing the rest of Curtis’s movie because I just watched it on TCM a few months ago (it’s a must-see and possibly Curtis’s best work) and because I’m going to see him tomorrow night at a screening of “Some Like It Hot.”

Next on the docket was a film I was very excited about seeing with a crowd, the glorious 1959 Douglas Sirk tearjerker, “Imitation of Life.” Lana Turner’s daughter Cheryl Crane was holding court with her mother’s fans at the Egyptian when I first walked in. She’s 67 now and looks fabulous. Of course Cheryl gained fame and notoriety when she stabbed her mother’s abusive gangster boyfriend, Johnny Stompanato, to death on April 4, 1958. Filming of “Imitation of Life” began immediately after that scandal and you can see it all over Lana’s face. 

After the film Robert Osborne brought out two of the stars of the film, 88-year-old Juanita Moore who played the beloved Annie Johnson, and Susan Kohner, who played her African-American daughter who was passing as white. What a treat to see them and hear them talk about the film. Even though both were nominated for Oscars for “Imitation of Life,” they said that it didn’t affect their careers that much and they never got such good parts again, unfortunately. Kohner only made 10 films or so before retiring to raise a family. But her sons, Chris and Paul Weitz, have kept the family in the film business. Moore seems like a real character, shockingly honest on all subjects, including her assessments of Lana Turner’s relationship with her daughter, Cheryl, despite Osborne’s claims that the two were very close. “No they weren’t,” Moore replied, and proceeded to talk about Cheryl’s wild youth. Crane wasn’t in the theatre at this point, which was just as well because she might have stormed the stage! 

Osborne shared a poignant story that Crane had told him earlier. Sandra Dee, who played Lana’s daughter in the film, remained close to Turner throughout her life. Cheryl was very jealous of Sandra, thinking she was the daughter her mother wished she had had—they even looked more alike! But Dee contacted Crane a few years ago and explained how Lana was a real mother figure to her. She apologized for making Cheryl uncomfortable when she was a troubled teenager and the two planned to meet up. Unfortunately, Sandra Dee died before that happened. Juanita Moore, who is the heart and soul of the film, was only the fourth African-American to get an Oscar nomination. Her grandson, Kirk Kelley-Kahn, came out to talk to the crowd about the documentary he’s in the process of making about his feisty grandmother.

“Casablanca” was next, always a thrill to see on the big screen, especially the archival nitrate print they showed last night. Director and film historian Peter Bogdonavich introduced the film and called it the best “accidental masterpiece” Hollywood ever created. Apparently there was no finished script for the film when shooting began, the story kept changing, pages were given to the actors just prior to the cameras rolling, and some scenes were improvised on the spot. The stars were miserable—none of them wanted to be in it because of the chaos and disorganization. And yet, against all odds, the ingredients added up to one of the greatest screen classics ever made. Has there ever been a more beautiful goddess than Ingrid Bergman’s Ilsa? And what movie has more memorable quotes? “Here’s looking at you, kid.” “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” “We’ll always have Paris.” 

Paul Henreid was wonderfully noble as Bergman’s husband Victor Laszlo. His daughter, Monika Henreid, came to the stage to talk about her dad with Bogdonavich. She was delightful and told many stories about her dad, including about the famous dual cigarette lighting from “Now, Voyager” that wasn’t in the script. Everyone in the film took credit for that gesture later on, but Monika claimed it came from her mother who used to do that when she and Paul were driving around in Paul’s sportscar. She said her father was glad to be in "Casablanca" in the end but that the making of it was agony for him. As a European-trained actor, he relied on the words on the page and didn’t care for improvisation or the fact that no one knew where the story was going. Most of the cast was made up of immigrants who had just fled Nazi-occupied Europe. In fact, most of the Nazis in the film were played by German Jews who knew only too well the horrors that were still going on back home.

Last up yesterday was John Schlessinger’s ground-breaking film “Midnight Cowboy,” famous for being the only X-rated film to ever win the Best Picture Oscar (the  MPAA later changed that X to an R). Jon Voight was there to talk about the film. Voight looked great and spoke eloquently about how he got the part, how he prepared for the role, and how much respect he had for co-star Dustin Hoffman. 

Though a liberal activist in the 60s, Voight has moved far to the right and is now a staunch Republican. Several tea party folks were there to voice their support for the actor by screaming loudly from the audience what a great American he is. Is yelling like a lunatic the main M.O. of these folks? Happily, Voight didn’t take the bait to start talking politics, and the tea party crowd finally shut up. Jon did, however, bring to the stage Rich Little who did a little bit on what it would have been like if John Wayne had played Ratso Rizzo. He then launched into an imitation of Ronald Reagan which ended in some anti-Democrat jokes. Oy. Voight looked great, by the way, and far younger than his 71 years. I was glad that no one asked about his famous daughter Angelina. I loved the film, as intense a portrait of New York’s underbelly, circa 1969, as you can get. I was moved by the performances by Voight’s “tricks,” including Sylvia Miles and Brenda Vacarro, and Hoffman owned the role of Ratso Rizzo. Voight told the story about Hoffman’s great ad lib when a taxi nearly mowed him and Voight down during a take. “Hey, I’m walkin’ here!” Voight was sure to stay in character and thrilled that the scene made it to the final film.

Okay, I’ve got some movies to see. More later, folks!

TCM Festival: Opening Night!

 

My favorite scene in “A Star Is Born” is when Judy Garland gets home from a long day at the studio and acts out the entire production number she shot that day for her hubby James Mason, just using items in their very cool 1954 Malibu home. The scene is funny, a tour-de-force for Garland, and it really conveys the intimacy between the two characters. There are so many great numbers in this film but I think the best of them are the ones with less glitz where Judy’s talent is just allowed to shine in its full glory. Nothing beats her simple but powerful rendition of “The Man Who Got Away.” 

Just got back from the gala opening night festivities of the TCM Film Festival. We had a great time. Classic film freaks from all over the world have converged on Hollywood Boulevard to attend this four-day event. The red carpet event that opened the festival was the breathtakingly beautiful restored version of “A Star Is Born.” This film was already restored once in 1983 but new technologies have enabled preservationists to improve on the restoration and up the quality of the sound and visuals a hundred-fold. There wasn’t a single scratch or speck of dirt on the pristine CinemaScope print—I felt like I could walk right into the Technicolor frame.

I got to talk to TCM host Robert Osborne on the red carpet. He's such a pro and a real hero for those of us who love classic films. I snapped this photo of actor Tony Curtis who was right behind us on the red carpet. I’ll be seeing two of his films this weekend, “The Sweet Smell of Success” and “Some Like It Hot.” We were sitting behind Eli Wallach and across the aisle from Peter Bogdonavich. Saw Judy Garland’s kids, Lorna and Joey Luft, and a host of other celebrities filing into the magnificent Chinese Theatre.

It’s always thrilling for me to see a movie like this with a full house of appreciative fans. Here’s a photo I took of Robert Osborne and Alec Baldwin chatting on stage before the film. They screened a newsreel of the original premiere of the movie at the nearby Pantages Theatre on September 29, 1954. Seeing that was almost as much fun as watching the film. Every big star in Hollywood was at that premiere and thousands of fans lined the streets. Our audience erupted into cheers for many of the stars in the newsreel which I found very moving. Oh, how young and beautiful they all were. Tony Curtis was there with his wife Janet Leigh, both impossibly gorgeous, Debbie Reynolds, Lucy and Desi, Lauren Bacall, Clark Gable, Elizabeth Taylor, and of course a radiant Judy Garland. Everyone was convinced she’d win the Oscar for this film but in a very surprising upset, Grace Kelly won the prize that year for “The Country Girl.” As Osborne told us, Judy later said she didn’t mind losing because she got her Joey instead. Her son was born two days before the Academy Awards were given out.

 

Here I am on the red carpet, on my way from Grauman’s to the after party. They had these great blow-ups of photos shot during the making of the film. That's director George Cukor conferring with Judy on the left and Judy looking into the camera on the right. 

Yikes, it’s after 1 am now and I have to wake up early for 12 more hours of movie-going all day tomorrow. Will I make it? Leah’s advice was to just not snore too loudly if I fall asleep during any of the films. It’s an exercise in stamina, to be sure, but I can’t imagine nodding out during any of these great films. 

Buicks in the Hood

 

I'm obsessed with L.A. history, especially the history of our West Adams neighborhood. Our house just celebrated its hundredth birthday. Henry C. Jensen built it and lived here with his family until his death in 1944. Jensen created some of the earliest movie theatres in Los Angeles, from the Palace Grand in 1914 to Jensen's Raymond Theatre in 1921, one of the finest movie palaces in the country up to that time. I often think about what our street looked like when Jensen was driving from our house to the many movie theatres he owned and ran. As I wait for the new Buick LaCrosse to be delivered for the TCM Film Festival which begins tomorrow night, I wonder if Jensen ever drove a Buick like the 1910 model pictured above. I've been doing some research in the L.A. Times archives and discovered that Buicks were among of the most sought after cars in southern California when our house was brand new. They sold like hotcakes in our neighborhood, which at the time was one of the most exclusive spots in the city (before it suffered a massive decline during the Great Depression causing most of the grand homes to be abandoned, torn down, or turned into boarding houses). Jensen may have stored his Buick in our garage which still stands, complete with a mechanics' pit that allowed full access to the vehicle. 

It was tough going for many automobile manufacturers in those early days. Crises in the industry were as common then as they are now. In 1910, the field was littered with start-ups and wannabes and according to an article from September 20, 1910, Buick had just missed a meltdown of its own. With the headline, “Reorganization of Buick Plant,” the article describes how General Motors had been able to avert an impending crisis that would have caused the company to stop production of its popular cars. “An announcement came from Flint, Mich., today that the Buick Automobile Company, the backbone of the General Motors Company, has been reorganized with the aid of Boston capital, and was ready to proceed with work on its 1911 output.”

Since cars were still relatively new and being re-invented each year, shortages were a huge problem—there was just no way to keep up with the growing demand, especially in California. This January ad urges potential customers to be sure to order their new Buicks NOW because by spring they’ll surely be out of stock. 

The main distributor of Buicks in Los Angeles was downtown, just a few miles from my house. Owner C. S. Howard created the concept of the automobile showroom and he was constantly touting the new shipments arriving from Michigan. As a publicity stunt, he reprinted his correspondence with Buick’s offices in Flint. “We hereby accept your telegraphic order of January third for a solid trainload of 50 double-decked carloads of Buick automobiles to be shipped as a special train January 25th. All of these cars to be fully equipped with tops, glass fronts and presto-lite tanks. Value of shipment three hundred and nine thousand, one hundred dollars. This will be the largest single shipment of automobiles ever made to one concern and we hope that you will appreciate our efforts in giving you a shipment of this size at a time when we are so crowded with orders. Sincerely, Buick Motor Co.” When I tried to find out more about Howard, I quickly discovered that after becoming a multi-millionaire from his Buick showrooms, he gained fame and even more riches years later as the owner of the legendary horse Seabiscuit. His early cars had replaced horses on the roads of California, but he was drawn back to the animals in the end.

By the early 1920s, Howard broke all automobile distribution records. Howard told the L.A. Times that the wildly increasing orders “seemed to show that Buick hit squarely the bullseye of public taste and design and construction of the new models.” June 1923 saw the production of the millionth Buick automobile which caused Howard to encourage his loyal customers to wax nostalgic about their favorite Buick models of "yesteryear" and send in photographs of their old cars. One of the best, according to the Times, was “a photograph of what was known in 1908 as the Buick White Streak, and the mortal who drove it in those days was considered about the luckiest man in Los Angeles.”

 

And that’s how I feel today, waiting for my car which will transport me to screenings of some of the best films ever made at two of the grandest movie palaces ever built. The list of actors and filmmakers who will be on hand to introduce their films at the festival includes Luise Rainer, Esther Williams, Ernest Borgnine, Jerry Lewis, Mel Brooks, Eva Marie Saint, Tony Curtis, Jon Voight, Jean-Paul Belmondo, Martin Landau, Anjelica and Danny Huston, Buck Henry, Eli Wallach, Peter Bogdanovich, Stanley Donen, Alec Baldwin, Tab Hunter, Nancy Olson, Illeana Douglas, Susan Kohner, Juanita Moore, Darryl Hickman, Curtis Hanson, Richard Rush, Douglas Trumbull, and our friends Betty Garrett and Norman Lloyd, among others. TCM host Robert Osborne will be on hand, of course, along with weekend-daytime host Ben Mankiewicz. After the gala premiere tomorrow night, I’m planning on going to at least five films a day Friday through Sunday. My eyes may be permanently damaged, but it will be worth it. Most of the screenings will be at Grauman's Chinese Theatre and Grauman's Egyptian, both on Hollywood Boulevard. Headquarters for the festival will be at the nearby Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, site of the first Academy Awards presentation in 1929. As I drive my LaCrosse to Hollywood, I'll be imagining all of the classic Buicks that once stood in front of these grand venues. 

More soon from the heart of Old Hollywood.

Wouldn’t You Really Rather Have a Buick?

 

That title is the car slogan I remember most from my childhood. I’ve got Buicks on the Brain today in anticipation of the 2010 Buick LaCrosse the folks at General Motors are about to lend me for a week. They’re also giving me passes to the first annual Turner Classic Movies Film Festival that starts the day after tomorrow. Woo-hoo! That is THE place to be in L.A. this week and as desperately as I had wanted to attend the festival, the ticket prices were too steep for my current budget. THANK YOU, GM! The car company is co-sponsoring the film festival and they were looking for some local bloggers to cover the event and give their opinion on their new luxury vehicle. Thanks to the recommendations of Jane Devin, who is documenting her cross-country trek in various GM vehicles on her excellent blog, “Finding My America,” the company contacted me and fellow movie lover Neil “Citizen of the Month” Kramer.

I’ve never officially reviewed any products on my blog, but lest you think I’m becoming a corporate shill, I can assure you that the down-to-earth GM folks have urged me to be very honest in my assessment of the vehicle. My appalling lack of knowledge about cars makes me either the best or the worst blogger they could have chosen. And as much as I always defend my loyal but decrepit 1994 Honda, I’m more excited about driving this car than I ever thought I’d be. I’ve been trying to find Buick Lacrosses on the road and they are hard to come by in Los Angeles. So I was shocked to walk out of my house a few days ago and find one parked directly in front. I’m surprised I wasn’t picked up by the police the way I was casing out the car, taking pictures of its luscious interior. That is one good-looking vehicle, and I’m not saying that out of gratitude for the movie passes! I’m so clueless in terms of cars that I didn’t even realize that Buicks had gained the reputation over the years as being something of an old fogey’s car. Not anymore, kids. This LaCrosse ain’t your grandfather’s Buick. I can’t wait to drive it to all the movie festivities on Hollywood Boulevard this week. 

Classic movies and a classic car. Who could ask for anything more?

My Honda is already pouting in our driveway and, it’s making more clinks and clanks than normal. Leah can’t wait to drive in a car that doesn’t look like it’s gone through several tours in Afghanistan. Even Charlie seems excited. This morning it looked like he was trying to unlatch the base of his car seat in his zeal to transfer it to the new car. Poor baby—he’s only ever driven in my and Kendall’s car which have a combined mileage that far surpasses the distance between the Earth and the Moon.

I’m obviously not someone who changes cars very often, I’ve only owned two cars in my life and they were both Japanese. I kept my old Mazda, the car I drove out from Chicago to L.A. when I moved here in the 80s, until it was practically a pile of metal shavings. When my ex-wife got pregnant with Leah in 1994 she adamantly refused to let our baby near the thing. I bought the car I’m still driving the month before Leah was born. Now that she’s starting to think about college, perhaps it’s time to get the feel of a new vehicle. Or is a taste of honey worse than none at all? Will General Motors need to send henchmen to my house next week to pry the Buick steering wheel out of my cold dead hands?

My father, who can barely remember what he had for breakfast this morning, can recall the Buick he owned over 50 years ago in explicit detail. Today he told me about picking up my mother for their first date in a breathtaking 1951 cream-colored Buick Roadmaster convertible. It was truly a magnificent car—why oh why didn’t he stick it in a garage somewhere and forget about it for sixty years? I’m not saying that my 19-year-old mother was shallow enough to be had for a sexy set of wheels, but I will say their first date went very well and they were married a few short months later. Is it stretching the point to imply that if it weren’t for Buick, I might not be sitting here today?

Kendall also has a Buick story that is part of her family’s lore. Her father Oliver was so careful in his spending habits that he’d go to three different drugstores to price out a package of Band-Aids. So the day he purchased not one, but TWO new Buicks shocked the entire family. He had gone to his local dealership to get a station wagon for his clan but after that was purchased he experienced love at first sight with a two-tone Buick LeSabre that was on the lot. In a very uncharacteristic moment of fiscal spontaneity, Oliver purchased that car, too! Kendall remembers how they took the new car to Scandia that night, a hoity-toity restaurant on Sunset Boulevard, the kind where the valets park the nicest cars out in front and hide the lesser quality vehicles in the hinterlands. She recalls how proud her father was when they walked out of the restaurant after their meal and there was his Buick LeSabre right in front of the place, parked between a Bentley and a Rolls Royce.

It makes sense that Buick is sponsoring the TCM festival (along with Vanity Fair). The company has been involved in the entertainment industry in some way or another since it was founded over a hundred years ago. Buicks appeared in many classic films and were owned by some of the top film stars. This custom-made Buick was driven by Cary Grant in the 1937 movie "Topper." The company sponsored some of the earliest TV shows. Many people remember Texaco as TV pioneer Milton Berle's main sponsor but when Texaco pulled out, Buick stepped in and renamed the program "The Buick-Berle Show." Let's look at a clip of Uncle Miltie touting Buicks in the 1950s, and just for fun, we'll also look at a 1964 commercial I remember from my childhood that may well make you scream at your computer: 

Oy, can you believe that tagline? That commercial may have been one of the matches that ignited the modern-day women’s movement. But before you write angry letters of protest to General Motors' headquarters in Flint, Michigan, know that every GM executive I’ve spoken to so far has been a woman. One of them just celebrated her 25th anniversary with the company. Such a smart group, and shockingly friendly for corporate types. God, I miss the Midwest!

Stay tuned for more tales of my Buick and the star-studded film festival!  

Letters I'll Never Send

 

I got this from the blog of my friend and former colleague Emily Barton who got it from somewhere on the Internet. Love Emily’s first letter:

Dear President Bush, 
I so wish you were back in office. 
Your Big Fan, 
Emily

I was just yesterday bemoaning the fact that I haven’t written and mailed an actual letter in years. I used to be a prolific letter writer and considered mail delivery the most exciting part of the day. Now I never even look at the mail—it’s mostly medical bills and census forms (we filled out the census and mailed it the day we received it—why do we keep getting additional forms?). All of my prized fountain pens are languishing sadly in a drawer, my trademark green ink caked up in their nibs and reservoirs like dried Vulcan blood. I need to repair those beautiful instruments and get out my high cotton content rag paper. But while I'm doing that, here are five letters that I won’t be mailing.

Dear Kardashian Sisters,

I just wanted to tell you what magnificent role models you guys are. Until recently I only knew your name because of your dad’s defense of O.J. Simpson (fantastic that he helped get the Juice acquitted of those bogus charges!) but now I’m so grateful that I can’t turn on the TV or open a magazine without seeing your gorgeous faces. “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” is, frankly, my personal lifelong goal and I only pray that my daughter follows your example in all ways. Keep up the good work, you three SO deserve your fame and everything it brings you.

With the greatest of respect and admiration, 
Danny Miller

 

Dear Los Angeles Developers,

Just a quick note to thank you for all of your exquisite work reshaping Los Angeles. Thank God you were able to knock down all those huge Craftsman homes in my neighborhood before the city “protected” us with a special designation. Honestly, who needed all that dusty stained glass and tacky hundred-year-old woodwork (a magnet for termites!) when we can enjoy the understated splendor of large apartment buildings made of sleek, smooth drywall? Just say no to pretentious flourishes! Special thanks to those of you responsible for tearing down all those dumb 1920s movie palaces in L.A., especially the Carthay Circle Theatre which once hosted so many gala premieres with the debauched denizens of Hollyweird holding court. Good riddance to bad trash! True, the giant box-like office building you built on the site has been half empty for years but I’m sure you’ll get a lot more tenants very soon now that the economy is booming.

Love you for everything you do,
Danny Miller

 

Dear Airline Frequent Flyer Program,

You guys rock! In addition to the ease of use of your program, the wide availability of tickets with no blackout dates, and the super on-time service people get on your airline, I wanted to send a special note of appreciation for our recent dealings with you regarding getting our miles re-instated after we were unable to use our plane tickets to Chicago last year. As my wife explained to you, we had to cancel our trip to my nephew’s Bar Mitzvah because she unexpectedly went into labor and gave birth to our twin boys at 24 weeks. We lost one of our sons that day but you had every right to demand that we fax you our baby’s death certificate before doing anything about our unused tickets. I commend you for your noble attempts to stop the epidemic of women who lie about the death of their children just to avoid paying penalty fees. Frankly, I think you should insist that such women have their documents notarized, do you know how easy it is to fake a death certificate these days?

Looking forward to flying with you again, 
Danny Miller

Dear Mel Gibson,

All is forgiven! Who's to say Jews AREN’T responsible for all the wars in the world? When the truth comes out, I know we'll find that Jewish cabal that started the Punic Wars and the Crusades. And those inflated numbers of people killed in the Holocaust? You were right to defend your pops who you called one of the most intelligent people you know. Mel, why are the Jews always trying to make such a big deal out of that alleged genocide? I’m guessing your dad was also right that the Second Vatican Council was a plot backed by the Jews and that the World Trade Center was blown up by remote control on 9/11 and had nothing to do with al-Queda. That's all for now, Mel. Hey, sorry things didn’t work out with Oksana!

Your pal, 
Danny Miller

P.S. Loved "Apocalypto!” Is there a sequel in the works?

 

Dear Sarah Palin,

What would this country do without you? You are clearly the brightest star on the horizon. (Don’t get me started on how that biatch Katie Couric stole the election from you with her crazy tough questions—as if anyone could remember what newspapers or magazines they read!) I devoured your book in one sitting and want to thank you for everything you are doing to bring unity back to our land. All that “hopey-changey stuff” gives me a major headache, too, and your claims that Obama is weak on terrorism are dead-on. The nerve of that guy “apologizing for America” when he visits other countries! As if we ever need to apologize for anything we do! Like you, I am a fiscal conservative (by the way, love your $100,000 speaking fee to conservative groups…you go, girl!). You can come to my tea party anytime, Sarah! Drill, baby, drill! I already ordered my "Palin/Bachmann 2012" t-shirt!

Your fellow rogue, 
Danny

A Death in Munchkinland

 

Anyone who knows me knows how obsessed I’ve always been with “The Wizard of Oz.” Before I could even talk, my mother used to put me to bed by placing the needle at the beginning of our long-playing soundtrack for the 1939 film (which included a lot of the dialogue) and I would drift off to sleep somewhere between the Wicked Witch of the West’s threats to kill Dorothy and her little dog and the Cowardly Lion fantasizing about being King of the Forest. It might not have been the healthiest sleep method but it worked for me and by the time I was six I knew every word of Yip Harburg’s wonderful songs. By the time I was 10 I could literally recite the entire film by heart, from Dorothy’s oepning lines: “She isn’t coming yet, Toto. Did she hurt you? She tried to, didn’t she?” to her final “Oh Auntie Em, there’s no place like home!” I would entertain my friends by seeing how fast I could spit out all the whole film, words, songs, and even special effects. If I talked ridiculously fast, I think my personal best was just under 20 minutes. I’ve written about how the annual telecast of “The Wizard of Oz” was a huge event in my family, on par with the Jewish holidays we celebrated (and with some confusing similarities).

 

My daughter grew up watching the movie and we’ve managed to see many anniversary screenings in movie theatres. We attended a sing-along “Wizard of Oz” at the Hollywood Bowl with 18,000 other fans of the film. At the age of eight, Leah appeared on the stage of the Hollywood Bowl dressed as author L. Frank Baum. I certainly plan on introducing Charlie to the film when he’s ready, and I’ve been singing various songs from the film to him since his earliest days in the NICU.

I’ve got Oz on the brain this weekend because Meinhardt Raabe died yesterday at the age of 94. Raabe was one of the few remaining munchkins still alive. We met him and the others in this group several times at various events around town. Leah has an autographed photo she treasures of Margaret Pelligrini, the munchkin who wore the flower pot hat. Pelligrini survives today and has six great-grandchildren. She was only 15 in the film, got $50 a week, and loved every second of it. “Judy Garland was a sweet girl,” Margaret recalled, “a typical teenager and she loved the munchkins. During film breaks, Judy would sit and chat with us on the Yellow Brick Road. We were all so amazed to be working with a star—but she was equally amazed to be working with all of us. She gave me an 8 x 10 photo of herself and wrote on it ‘To Margaret from your pal Judy.’”

As the Coroner of Munchkinland, it was Meinhardt Raabe who pronounced the Wicked Witch of the East legally dead. At the age of 21 and less than four feet tall, it was Raabe who uttered what has become one of the most famous lines from the film:

As Coroner, I must aver 
I thoroughly examined her… 
And she’s not only merely dead 
She’s really most sincerely dead!

For the rest of his life, people would come up to Raabe and ask him what “I aver” means (legal jargon for “I swear”). It was one of the words I learned from the movies but never used, like “ken” that Liesl “Things Beyond My Ken” Von Trapp taught me in “The Sound of Music.”

 

Did you ever get a good look at the death certificate Raabe holds up in the film? It says the Wicked Witch died on May 6, 1938. Funny to think of that date on the certificate when the movie itself is so timeless. As Raabe said himself during one of his last interviews, “There is nothing in the picture that dates it. There are no vintage cars or old streetcars…it’s a fantasy picture that will be fantasy for generations to come.”

Outside of Munchkinland, May 6, 1938 also marked the day that mass deportations of Austria’s Jews were announced. One Austrian named Leo Singer had emigrated years earlier to this country with a troupe of midgets that became wildly successful in vaudeville. Singer’s Midgets took the U.S. by storm appearing in the best theatres in New York, Los Angeles, and elsewhere. When vaudeville died, Singer tried to get his “little people” into the movies but it was hard going. They made a few shorts for Paramount but the act was languishing when he finally got the call from MGM about “The Wizard of Oz.” Singer was hired to gather all of the midgets he could find for the film. He used the remaining members of his own troupe and looked for any and all performing midgets around the country. In the end, there were 124 midgets plus about half a dozen full-size children making up the munchkin ranks.

During the filming, most of the munchkins stayed in a nearby Culver City hotel. The crazy stories of their drunken debauchery were mostly fiction, although a handful of the midgets had drinking problems and there were a few episodes. But most of the wildly exaggerated tales were spread by Judy Garland as she made the talk show rounds in the 1960s. It made for a good story and was even the basis for a weird 1980s film starring Chevy Chase and Carrie Fisher called "Under the Rainbow."

Considering the fact that “The Wizard of Oz” was made over 70 years ago, it’s amazing that anyone from the production survives. When I was growing up, most of the cast was still alive they often appeared to introduce the film during its annual TV showing.  Only Frank Morgan, the charlatan wizard, died before I was born, in 1950. Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion was the next to go, in 1967, followed by Dorothy herself, when Judy Garland died at age 47 in 1969. Glinda the Good Witch’s Billlie Burke died the following year. In 1979, the Tin Man’s Jack Haley went to that great junk heap in the sky (after his son married Dorothy’s daughter, Liza). Following a successful resurgence of her career in Maxwell House coffee commercials, Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West finally went “where the goblins go, below, below, below” in 1985, followed two years later by the Scarecrow’s Ray Bolger. Now, with Meinhardt Raabe’s death, only a very few munchkins are left. How sad it will be when the last person associated with this film leaves the planet. But, like Raabe said, the movie will live on for many generations to come.

I recently heard that no fewer than three Oz projects are in pre-production. Say it ain’t so! I’m game for a movie version of the musical “Wicked” but can’t stand the thought of Hollywood remaking the original film. I’m sure the new munchkins will be CGI monstrosities and I shudder at the thought of some insipid modern teen taking on the role of Dorothy.

 

Meinhardt Raabe spent the rest of his life in his blue coroner’s costume regaling generation after generation of new Oz lovers. He wore it two years ago when the remaining munchkins were on hand for the unveiling of their star on the Hollywood Boulevard Walk of Fame. 

Farewell, Meinhardt!

You’re out of the woods  
You’re out of the dark  
You’re out of the night.  
Step into the sun  
Step into the light.  
Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place  
On the face of the earth or the sky…

Happy 100th Birthday, Anita Karoll!

Today would have been my grandmother’s 100th birthday. I've written about her several times, including last year on her birthday when I told the story of her well publicized return to school late in life, but I still wanted to mark this special occasion. I can't believe she's been gone 20 years already. It kills me that she never got to meet any of her great-grandchildren but I hope she's spending time with Oliver wherever they are. I know she would have gone nuts for Leah, Spencer, Sammy, and Charlie. 

I went to my grandparents' apartment every Friday night for Shabbat dinner from birth until I left Chicago in 1986. By my calculations, that's over 1,400 bowls of chicken soup! She was a great cook, as was my mom. Why did I never cook with them and learn their recipes? I always felt very close to my grandmother but I would give anything to sit down with her now for about 12 hours and interview her about every aspect of her life.

Anita Schutz married my grandfather, Sam Karoll, in 1932 and by all accounts it was a real love match. She wasn't as religious as he was but she adapted to the orthodox lifestyle to please him and his family. But if you were alone with her, lunching in the Walnut Room at Marshall Field's, she might order a shrimp salad or some other shockingly treyf fare. But only if no one was looking—at home her kitchen could pass any rabbi's kosher test! Despite various family dramas over the years, and her eventual health problems, she had a great life with my grandfather. They sailed to Europe together, went to Israel on numerous occasions, visited the family in Toronto a few times a year, and played golf together nearly every weekend. It takes me a minute now to reach back past the last few years of my grandparents' lives and remember how vibrant and energetic they were through most of my childhood and adolescence. But why wouldn't they be? My grandmother was only 44 when her first grandchild was born. She was younger than I am now when I entered the scene. 

 I wish I could time travel for a day back to the late-1940s when this picture was taken of my grandmother and her family. That's my mom on the left in the cute sailor's outfit and my Aunt Bobby on the right. My grandmother is as stylish as a movie star in the photo, and that sense of style continued throughout her life. She had the most amazing clothes, shoes, purses, hats, jewelry, and furs. I'm surprised she let us in the house the way we all dressed. I don't remember her kvetching about it, either, but she always looked dressed to the nines. I wish I could have known her as a young mother. I wonder what she was like. I vaguely remember my mother telling me about some odd customs of the day such as making it a point to take babies out in a stroller when it was super cold, it was thought that the cold air was good for them. She had my mom and aunt when she was in her twenties but then my Uncle Paul came along years later when she was the ancient (for the time) age of 38. 

 My grandmother's red hair was absolutely gorgeous. I remember seeing some photos of her when she was a teenager when it was long and flowing. Happily, she passed down her exact shade of red to my mother, aunt, and my daughter, Leah. This photo from the late 1950s shows my grandmother, mother, and my sister, Sue, who was also a redhead for a time. Both of my grandmother's Russian parents had red hair as did my grandfather and his Polish parents, so my gene pool got it from all sides. (Those Vikings must have cut a large swath through Eastern Europe!) Sitting here thinking about my grandmother, I'm frustrated by the memories I don't have. I didn't spend too much alone time with her, most of my memories are of Friday night dinners and other family events. But after those dinners I'd spend hours in my grandmother's bedroom with her and my mom as they secretly smoked. My grandfather would discover them every week and bitch about smoking on Shabbos. If only they had listened—both died of smoking-related cancers. 

 It's weird to think that my grandmother could conceivably still be alive today. I can't imagine her as a truly old woman. This photo shows how I mostly remember her, laughing and enjoying herself, here with my Aunt Florence. Florence and Anita–not names you hear very often today, although Anita is Leah's middle name. My grandmother was good at keeping a record of her family and she had countless photo albums. But she was the opposite of a true hoarder. I remember when I was in first grade and they moved from their fabulous five-bedroom apartment at 507 Roscoe to a much smaller apartment in a nearby high-rise on Lake Shore Drive, my grandmother was ruthless about throwing stuff out. She sold most of her amazing furniture for a song, got rid of the majority of the tchotchkes she had accumulated over the years, and threw out a lot of stuff that I would kill for today, like my mother's school papers and other mementoes from childhood. Is that what turned my brother, sister, and I into such fierce archivists?

Here's to you, Anita Schutz Karoll, on your 100th birthday. I love you and miss you, and wish you were here to preside over family events and kvell over your beautiful great-grandchildren. Your memory IS a blessing!