July 18, 2014

Speaking of movies...

Yesterday I talked about the Forgotten First Wife Syndrome, using The Godfather as an example.  This morning, I caught the tail end of the Al Pacino remake of Scarface, and while my first thought was that it was a pure high keeping him standing during that hail of bullets, it occurred to me...shouldn't he have bled to death, considering how many bullets actually struck him?

Shutting down my writer's mind for a minute, I also saw a commercial for the new James Brown biopic.  Chadwick Boseman nails James, right down to his speech pattern.  Also in the cast are both Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer.  August 1st, y'all!

Anybody else planning on seeing this one in the theaters?

March 11, 2014

Oscar Follow-Up

Yes, I know I'm late with this...but what can I say?  I've been busy!

I'm pleased to report that all six of my Oscar predictions that I made here were correct.  It's not about picking who I wanted to win...it's about trying to think like a member of the Academy and calculate how the majority of them would vote.

If anyone is wondering why I didn't announce the final Movie Trivia winner on Oscar night, it's because I had no entries!  Moving on...

My least favorite moment at the Oscars:  Ellen DeGeneres' saying that the real Liza Minnelli was a male Liza Minnelli impersonator.  Thought that was really mean-spirited, and Ms. Minnelli was very generous to go along with it.  If that had been me, I would have had some choice words for Ms. DeGeneres backstage.

I had several favorite Oscar moments. The speeches of producer Steve McQueen when Twelve Years a Slave was announced as the Best Picture, along with Brad Pitt and the other producers (Brad spoke first, but he kept it short), and also Lupita Nyongo's acceptance speech for Best Supporting Actress.  I love the sound of her voice.  I wish her a long and varied career.

But my absolute favorite Oscar moment of the evening was the words Robert DeNiro said when presenting the Writing awards.  The words, as were all of the preludes by presenters, were scripted by someone else, but as any writer knows, they are the truth:

"The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. Isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination, consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day."


And with that, I will go back to my manuscript.

April 16, 2013

What Makes a Biopic Work

This weekend my husband and I saw 42, the new biopic about Jackie Robinson's challenges in integrating major league baseball.  I'd heard that the movie was wonderful, and we both enjoyed it.  It made me start to think about other movie biographies I've seen, some of which worked better than others.  Here are my observations about the ingredients of a successful biopic:

• Focusing on a several-year period  instead of an entire life allows for more depth without the epic length of a Gandhi or a Malcolm X.  I really had a feel for Jackie and Rachel Robinson.
• Cooperation of surviving family members, particularly a spouse, makes a huge difference.  Movies like Funny Girl and Lady Sings The Blues, both handsome, spare-no-expense productions, had storylines compromised by direct threats of litigation from Nick Arnstein and Louis McKay, ex-husband and estranged husband of Fanny Brice and Billie Holiday, respectively, if they were portrayed in an unflattering manner (both Brice and Holiday were deceased by the time their lives were put on film, but their husbands were still alive).  As a result, both movies were largely fictional.  (Ike Turner reportedly made the same threats during the filming of What's Love Got to Do With It, but apparently by the 1990s studies were less worried about libel suits.)  Mrs. Rachel Robinson has said in numerous interviews how pleased she is with the way the movie turned out, not only with the portrayal of her late husband, but by the depiction of their love and marriage.
• Casting the most suitable actors.  The actor who played Jackie Robinson actually looked like a young Jackie Robinson. Similarly, Meryl Streep became Margaret Thatcher (and Julia Child as well), and Jamie Foxx became Ray Charles (and the piano playing didn't have to be faked, another plus) because of resemblance to the subjects they played (whether real or makeup-enhanced).  Raymond Massey had the angular features (and the height) to impersonate two historical figures on screen with startling physical accuracy--Abraham Lincoln and John Brown.  But Hollywood has made some major gaffes in this regard.  Diana Ross, a small, petite, brown-skinned woman, looked nothing like the tall, big-boned, fair-skinned Billie Holiday (who had only been dead 13 years in 1972, when the movie was made, with many people who remembered the real Billie Holiday pointing that out). Denzel Washington didn't look anything like Malcom X, either, but he gave such a powerful performance that it really wasn't that big a deal (and the horn-rimmed glasses helped a lot).  I did think that the late Al Freeman, Jr., gave a wonderful embodiment of Elijah Mohammed in that same film.  Other times the actors have been too old for the parts they played.  The most glaring example I can think of is a 49-year-old James Stewart playing a 25-year-old Charles Lindbergh in The Spirit of St. Louis. The studio dyed Stewart's hair blond, but it couldn't hide the years.  Similarly, Warren Beatty, looking every one of his 54 years at the time, was too old to play Bugsy Siegel from his late 30s to his murder at age 41 in Bugsy, and 45-year-old Kevin Spacey, despite a strong resemblance to Bobby Darin, was too old to portray the singer, who died at age 37, especially at the beginning of his career. 
• Portraying real-life contemporaries of the subject adds authenticity.  42 was full of depictions of real people:  Branch Rickey, Leo Durocher, various baseball players, including a number of racists.  I think that forty years ago or more that studios, worried about lawsuits, deliberately avoided this, so they commissioned screenplays that incorporated fictitious characters (there was no Lester Young or Louis Armstrong in Lady Sings The Blues, instead there was composite character Piano Man, played by Richard Pryor), which overall makes the story feel more like fiction.  Fortunately, this thing doesn't happen much anymore.  I did notice that the "married actress" Leo Durocher was seen in bed with in 42, an affair that cost him his job, was not called by name (the actress shown and referred to was actually Laraine Day, whom Durocher later married).  Portraying a person but not actually referring to them by name should be enough to protect the studio from any legal action brought forth by Day's heirs (she died in 2007).
• A general sticking to the facts.  Movie biographies are notorious for exaggeration and just plan fabrication.  Spencer Tracy as Thomas Edison (Edison, the Man), Tyrone Power as Jesse James (Jesse James), Errol Flynn as George Armstrong Custer (They Died With Their Boots On), Nat "King" Cole as W.C. Handy (St. Louis Blues; like Lady Sings the Blues later, this role was designed to showcase the star's talents more than to be an actual biography), Carol Lynley as Jean Harlow (Harlow), are depictions whose scripts are riddled with inaccuracies.    

Those are my observations.  Please feel free to share yours!  What are some of your favorite biopics?  Which ones left you cold?

December 26, 2012

It's what you say and how you say it

In a move that will likely surprise no one, director Spike Lee has spoke out against Quentin Tarantino's new movie Django Unchained, which opened yesterday. Lee says the violence-ridden Western is "disrespectful to his ancestors."

This is not the first time Lee has criticized the work of other directors.  He objected to the excessive use of the N-word in Tarantino's movie Jackie Brown.  He criticized Clint Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers for not featuring black Marines (the film was about the soldiers who raised the American flag at Iwo Jima, none of whom happened to be black). And we've all heard about his objections to Tyler Perry's Madea character.

Spike Lee is, to the best of my knowledge, the only director to openly criticize the work of his peers.  Similarly, Angela Bassett's comments about the role in the movie Monster's Ball that won Halle Berry an Oscar were widely reported, saying she considered the role demeaning and stereotypical and that she had turned it down prior to it being offered to Berry (although, in all fairness to Bassett, she did say that she wasn't being critical of Berry, just the role itself, and that she had tears in her eyes at Berry's moving acceptance speech).

Everyone is entitled to their opinions, yes...but under certain circumstances, these types of remarks are best kept to themselves.  I do have to applaud Bassett, whose career was already sagging when she turned down the Monster's Ball role a dozen or so years back...not for her criticism, but for sticking to her principles. She turned down this starring role in favor of taking more positive parts with top-tier billing but little overall screen time (such as The Score or Akeelah and the Bee), and she refused to do a nude scene (as she did in How Stella Got Her Groove Back), although the awful Meet The Browns was pretty stereotypical to me and certainly didn't do anything for her career (and I believe this might have been her last truly starring role to date).  But I digress...

While I felt that Django Unchained, which my husband and I saw yesterday, was highly entertaining (if extremely violent), I happen to agree that the script of Jackie Brown was liberally peppered with the N-word (practically in every other line of Samuel L. Jackson's dialogue), and that Monster's Ball did have a stereotypical view of black women, nor am I a fan of Madea...but I'm not a director or an actress, and that makes all the difference.

I personally don't think it's a good thing for those in high-visibility professions to criticize their peers, simply because it comes off as sour grapes.  Also, I notice that this seems to be done only by black folks.  I mean, Meryl Streep is generally recognized to be the leading actress of her generation, and you don't hear Sally Field, Susan Sarandon, or Glenn Close bad-mouthing her or saying "I could have played that role but I didn't want to." Nor do you hear anything about Steven Spielberg criticizing George Lucas.  I'm not saying this hasn't happened, I'm saying it hasn't been reported.  Prominent blacks, though, criticizing other blacks will be picked up and put all over the media, i.e., Harry Belafonte's unfortunate remarks about Colin Powell during the latter's tenure as Secretary of State.  No, it's not fair that our squabbles are aired publicly...but that's the way it is.  So it's probably best to remember that old adage:  "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."     

The Week in Review

Donald Trump (the Chump) made it official...he's not running for President. He then hemmed and hawed about an invitation he accepted from the Iowan Republican Party to be their keynote speaker at a major fundraiser before finally pulling out. I'm still scratching my head over why they would invite an undeclared candidate to be the main attraction...what did they think would happen if he decided against running (and many said it would never happen)? Maybe he dismissed them as a bunch of goobers who don't count, but in Iowa, as one man put it, "A man's word is his bond." So in Iowa, Trump is in the dumps.

We all had an a-ha moment at the revelation about Arnold Schwarzenegger's love child. For now the salacious reporting seems to have died down, with the press camped out on the quiet street where the boy lives with his mother (in a nearly $300,000 house...payoff, anyone?)disrupting everything, after the mother's name, photograph, and even the name of the street she lives on was published. I was afraid the media wouldn't rest before they got a shot of the minor child. But I have to say...it makes me ill to think of Arnold puffing out his already overdeveloped chest as he watched both his wife and his housekeeper walk around with swollen bellies, knowing he impregnated them both. Ugh.

President Obama is having a major disagreement with the Israeli government over his suggestion that the pre-1967 borders be a starting point for future negotiations. Republicans were quick to jump on the President, saying he's anti-Israel, calling his words "dangerous," "a disaster waiting to happen," and accusing him of "throwing Israel under the bus." Yet President Bush II while in office said he supported use of the post 1949-borders...which essentially the same thing, referring to the agreement time period after the 1948 conflict and before the 1967 conflict. I'd love to see the GOP contenders explain why it was all right for Bush to take that position but not for Obama. Yeah, I know why it was all right, but I'd like to hear them explain it. Because it's purely partisan. These "party animals" are getting on my nerves.

Finally, Tim Pawlenty plans to make his candidacy official next week, bringing to mind that song from Porgy & Bess: "I've got Pawlenty of nuttin'..."

Have a great weekend!

Fact vs. Fiction

I remember being surprised when The History Channel began running promos of what appeared to be yet another miniseries about the Kennedy family with the rather salacious tagline that it would go behind closed doors to reveal the inner goings-on.

The History Channel is associated largely with factual data, documentary-style programming with newsreels and, pre-movie, still photographs or drawings. What were they doing producing a miniseries? There's always more than one cringe-worthy scene when miniseries are based on real people, usually the scenes involving pillow talk that are obviously clearly the product of the screenwriters' imaginations, not based on fact. Much of the everyday scenes are simply invented, or dramatic license taken with the actual unfolding of events, and they don't always sit well with the families of those being portrayed. You might recall a number of years back, how the mother of the late Melvin Franklin sued the the producers of The Temptations miniseries for depicting her son passing away in her Detroit kitchen in a wheelchair when he actually died in the hospital (I believe in L.A.).


The Kennedys as a whole have been written about to distraction, remarkable when you consider that not one of them ever wrote their memoirs. Did Jackie every have a phone conversation with Marilyn Monroe? Who knows...but its been depicted onscreen. Did Jackie threaten to leave JFK because of his philandering? Who knows...but a showdown makes for good entertainment, right?


I remember thinking that something didn't quite ring true when one of the productions had Jackie making the suggestion that JFK, only weeks before the 1960 election, call Coretta Scott King and offer assistance after Martin Luther King was sentenced to four months of hard labor in a Georgia prison camp for a traffic infraction. In Kennedy brother-in-law Sargent Shriver's obituary earlier this week, it stated that this suggestion actually came from him. (This is probably mean of me to say, but Jacqueline Kennedy just didn't strike me as being the type to be concerned about such matters as civil rights of black people.)


Anyway, the thought of airing a miniseries loaded with creative license simply wasn't in keeping with The History Channel's reputation. So I, for one, wasn't surprised when they announced that they would not be showing the miniseries after all. With other networks passing on the opportunity to air the show, citing numerous historial inaccuracies, this was a costly blunder for The History Channel for sure. As for inaccuracies, I recall one Kennedy reenactment showing Bobby Kennedy sitting outside by his pool in shirtsleeves when he received word of his brother's having been shot in Dallas...and Bobby Kennedy's residence was in Virginia. Anyone who knows Virginia weather knows that in late November you just don't sit poolside, and I was very surprised no one caught that.

I've got a feeling the miniseries will pop up somewhere, even go to DVD. I'm rather looking forward to it. My husband is a history buff, and we'll get a kick out of determining which scenes Kennedy staffers and intimates objected to as being false.

Husbands Behaving Badly


I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty tired of hearing about these cheating men who embarrass their wives with their infidelities. It's even worse when the wife has praised or defended him. I still wince when I think of Hillary Clinton's claims of the "vast right-wing conspiracy" in defense of Bill, who knew damn well what he was doing with that intern, but let her go out and stick up for him anyway. And, of course, the news has been following all the developments since John Edwards came clean about impregnating another woman while his wife was coping with a diagnosis of incurable cancer, and we all know that coverage of Tiger Woods's indiscretions practically reached saturation coverage, with his sex partners coming out of the woodwork like termites.


The latest to be embarrassed is Sandra Bullock, who credited her husband with changing her life for the better, teaching her so much about love, etc., in a widely seen Oscar night interview with Barbara Walters. Not two weeks after bringing home her statuette, it's revealed that her husband was sleeping with another woman while she was away on location. Presto bingo...she's now on the cover of every tabloid, the rumors are saying that she's pregnant (at age 45), and women are coming forward for their 15 minutes of fame by saying they fucked him.

No one knows what goes on inside a marriage, and some women, like Mrs. Woods and all those political wives, have never spoken to the press about their relationships with their husbands. I guess that does little to lessen their level of embarrassment, but Ms. Bullock is a celebrity in her own right, and it was a natural series of questions answered with sincere answers. It's not as though she was going around telling the world about her wonderful marriage, in that nauseating way Kathie Lee Gifford used to do on morning TV before it was revealed that Frank Gifford had an affair, a humiliation that finally made her shut up.

I'm sure Ms. Bullock will get through this. The way things are going, it will only be a matter of time before the next big cheating scandal breaks!

Never Can Say Goodbye

My husband and I spent the weekend in Indianapolis visiting family, and on the first, most boring part of the drive back home to Wisconsin (the state of Indiana consists of one large city, numerous college towns, suburbs of Chicago, and a lot of cornfields) I told him about an article in the Sunday paper about the Michael Jackson King of Pop tour of Gary, including the sights it covered and its cost. Bernard, a native of Gary, Indiana himself, laughed so hard I thought he was going to lose control of the car.

He spontaneously got off the highway at one of the Gary exits, telling me he was going to take me on the Michael Jackson tour.

He skipped driving past the hospital where Michael (and, incidentally, Bernard himself) was born; I'd been there to visit various family members over the years. So our first stop was Lucky's Lounge, where the Jackson brothers first performed as professionals.

If a contest for the city with the most boarded-up buildings is ever held, Gary would probably win. Lucky's is an abandoned building with a board partially covering its large front window. On the front door a message of thanks for patronizing them, plus a warning that a person had to be 21 or over to enter, is still visible. This part of the building, Bernard explained, had been a liquor store. The lounge portion was in the back, its entrance around the corner. A sign that reads "Granny's Hometown Cookng" or something like that now hangs over the front door. We didn't bother to go closer to determine whether Granny is still cooking. The building looked so forlorn, it was depressing. "Now, would you pay to see that?" Bernard asked me. I understood his laughter from earlier better now.

From there we drove toward the Jackson family house. Bernard pointed out a Fifties-style two-story elementary school within walking distance of the house, saying it was likely this was where the Jackson children received their fundamental educations. It is now a girl's academy.

We drove a few blocks to Jackson Street (named for President Andrew Jackson), where, on a corner marked with brown street signs saying Jackson Family Way and 2300 Jackson Street. On the corner sits 2300 Jackson Street, a plain one-story house with weathered white siding that is, and I'm not kidding, about as wide as my garage (which can hold two cars and a motorycle or snowblower). But, like most houses in Gary, the house has a full basement, which effectively doubles its size. Still, it is very, very small for a family of 11 people. Across the street is a house that appears identical, except its siding is a light greenish-blue color. Two of those portable roofed strutures in the front yard shield tables of souvenirs from the elements. The tour does not include going inside the Jackson home - which until recently was occupied by a cousin of the family - but the operators have worked out a deal with the owners of the similar house across the street for the tour participants to walk through. Of course, participants are invited to shop at the souvenir stand in the yard. This may well represent the only time the tourists actually get off the bus (the tour also includes driving past the home of the owner of the Jackson's first record label, whose home included a recording studio and who apparently is still in residence). Then, I suppose it's back aboard for the trips back to the Far South suburb of Matteson, Illinois (about a 45-minute drive) or E. 53rd Steet in the Hyde Park section of the city (near the President's digs), a ride which can easily run close to an hour.

The tour takes from 3-1/2 to 4 hours in total, the largest chunk of which is spent just getting to and from Gary. The city hung a large banner across Broadway in honor of Michael Jackson. A downtown theater, long abandoned, has on its marquee, Jackson Five Forever.

This love Gary shows for its most famous sons is ironic, considering the Jackson brothers never performed in Gary after they became Motown recording artists. Kids from Gary who wanted to see their old friends and classmates had to get to Chicago, some 30 miles away (quite a distance for 14- and 15-year-olds) to see the Jackson Five. Michael himself only returned to Gary once more in his lifetime, in 2003, to receive the keys to the city.

It's important to note that the city of Gary was economically healthy in 1969, when the Jackson family left town. Sometime after that the steel mills began cutting back, manufacturers moved to different locations, retailers closed, and the boarding up of buildings began. I never understood why Gary shows such love for Michael, given that he never so much as gave a concert in his hometown after becoming rich and famous. For that reason, I personally hope the tour operators make a bundle. Likely there is no licensing is required to drive past public or abandoned buildings or pointing out where Michael and his family lived, or opening up a house across the street to the public. No licensing means the organizers don't have to give the family a cut of the profits (this may well explain why the Jackson house is not open for tours). And the tour is not cheap - you'll learn the price at the end of this column - so profits are probably plentiful. Plans the city has to open a museum would absolutely have to include a payment to the family for the right to display Michael's belongings. But good luck trying to get 2300 Jackson Street declared a historical site, something the mayor of Gary is reportedly attempting to do. It's the former home of a pop star, for crying out loud, not Abraham Lincoln's log cabin.

Which brings me to what my husband said to me after we pulled back out on Broadway. A sign at the corner proclaims, "Visit Michael Jackson's childhood home, turn here" because apparently people driving to Chicago are stopping off to look at the house (and buy souvenirs across the street, no doubt), bringing in more money not related to the tour. Bernard held out his palm and said, "That'll be $55, please."

Do You Know Him?

I confess, when I heard about Michael Jackson's untimely death last week, I thought, as I usually did whenever I saw a picture of him, of how different his life might have been had he not started tinkering with his looks, and that led me to think about another celebrity who came out of Gary, Indiana. This man had a nose that could have stood some repair work, being both oversized to begin with and broken a couple of times. He left Gary and became one of the busiest character actors in the business and years later was the star of one of the longest-running advertising campaigns, a commercial for American Express in which he began with the question, "Do you know me?" (an appropriate opening for a man whose face was well known even if his name wasn't.

His not-exactly-handsome looks didn't keep him from finding personal happiness as well as professional. He married, had two kids and in what may well be a Hollywood record, stayed married to the same woman for 70 years.

The man from Gary whom I thought about last week, the man who kept his original nose and from all indications had a very happy life, was named Karl Malden. He died today of natural causes at the ripe old age of 97.

I guess some things are pre-ordained, but still I can't help thinking about how things might have been for Michael without all the alterations to his looks.

I'm signing off until next week. I'll be celebrating my birthday tomorrow (which is about 5 minutes from now) and preparing for weekend guests on Friday. Enjoy your Fourth, and for God's sake be careful with those fireworks!

Melodies from Heaven

I'm feeling highly retrospective lately, and I'm saying a lot of prayers.

My work as a medical transcriptionist gives me insight into the personal situations of strangers, and the large number of people in trouble can be overwhelming. It's not unusual for MTs to say little prayers for these people we don't know as we transcribe their personal histories along with their health issues.

Like the elderly woman who was caring for her ailing husband and is now ill herself but is desperate to remain living independently at home rather than face nursing home placement for herself and her spouse. Like the young Iraq War veteran who suffered injuries in combat that threaten one of his limbs. Like the people who have lost jobs and health insurance and who end up hospitalized because they've cut back on their medications in an attempt to stretch them.

I have friends who are coping with job losses, dwindling (or exhausted) savings, or working at much lower salaries than what they are accustomed to, and the depression that can stem from the resultant stress.

Music has always been a great soothing mechanism for me, making any situation seem less desperate. The radio stations have been playing some great songs by Michael Jackson, a man whose problems are now over and who left a treasure trove of music behind for people to enjoy forever. Listening to these songs helps me forget about all the sad things I hear about every day about people I don't know, well-known or not. Today I heard a disturbing story about someone claiming to have proof that former politician John Edwards promised to marry his mistress as soon as his terminally ill wife, Elizabeth, passes away. Now, how is this supposed to make Elizabeth Edwards feel? The rumor mill is also working overtime relating to Michael Jackson's death, which in itself is probably surprising to no one, but the stories sound just plain vicious to me.

It's been reported that court papers filed by Michael's mother asking for permanent custody of his children, plus control of the money for their care, plus control of his estate. What judge in their right mind would even consider granting a 79-year-old woman permanent custody of two adolescent children plus a 7-year-old? And where exactly do Mrs. Jackson's priorities lie? What about burying her son? (I heard a news report that the family is waiting for "results" of the second autopsy, but since this can often take weeks, I'm presuming that was merely a poor choice of words).

So, I turn to the great music Michael left behind. I have two favorite Michael Jackson recordings, one from his years recording with his brothers, and one from his very first solo album in 1971, he was still young enough to hit those high notes . . . and both from the days when he had the good looks he was born with. Enjoy, and feel free to share your own favorite Michael Jackson tunes with us.

And please say a prayer for someone going through challenging times. There are so many . . . .




Never Can Say Goodbye, the Jackson Five




I Wanna Be Where You Are, Michael Jackson

Juneteenth, one day late

It had been my intention to post an acknowledgment of Juneteenth on the blog yesterday. The observation of this historic occurrence has spread from its original location of Texas to all over the U.S. (an annual festival is held up in Milwaukee, for example).

Unfortunately, some wild weather hit Southeastern Wisconsin last night. A tornado touched down at the local airport, less than a mile from our house. Heavy rains and lightning and swift-moving, large black clouds that looked like they came out of a movie made for a scary experience. And while my job (where I was until 9:30PM) had power, myhome did not.

Our lights are back on, but today is now June 20th. While you enjoy your weekend, take a moment to say a prayer for the souls of those who suffered as slaves, and for those who are still struggling in poverty 140 some-odd years later.

I can't let today (not yesterday) go by without acknowledging the 100th anniversary of the birth of one of the most handsome men who ever graced the silver screen, Errol Flynn. Later this year will mark the 50th anniversay of this charismatic actor's premature death at age 50, by then ravaged by years of excess alcohol and an addiction to morphine, his good looks a thing of the past. But in his prime, he was a one good-looking dude.

Mothers, don't let your daughters grow up to be actresses

The airwaves have been promoting what looks like a new reality show hosted by Vivica A. Fox. I felt rather sad to see this. Ms. Fox has talent that should be grasping a meaty part in television or film . . . but there aren't many of those to go around.

It's always been difficult for black actresses to get decent parts. It wasn't unusual for a black actress to get one plum role that made people predict stardom for her, and then fall back into near obscurity. The late Dorothy Dandridge couldn't possibly have known that her Oscar-nominated performance in Carmen Jones would be the high point of her career. Most, if not all, of the few movies she made after this were supporting roles.

Because bills have to be paid, sometimes actresses have no choice but to take lesser parts (does anybody remember a movie called Gone Fishin' that was a low point in the career of Lynn Whitfield, as well as the film's male stars, Danny Glover and Joe Pesci) or go the reality TV route (Ms. Fox had competed in Dancing with the Stars a few years back).

One actress who seems to be staying busy is Alfre Woodard, who seems to have avoided the slump that comes with being an actress past 40 by sliding into mother roles (she's played the mother of Sanaa Lathan in at least 3 movies). And Angela Bassett, to my knowledge, has never appeared in a less than A-quality production (even if she had a smaller role, like the one she had in the recent critical and commercial hit Akeelah and the Bee) and is currently headlining ER for its final season.

I first became aware of Ms. Fox's talent in the well-done but unsuccessful Frankie Lymon biopic, Why Do Fools Fall In Love. She had a wonderfully meaty role as the first of the singer's three wives, easily the best part of the picture, showing off both toughness and tenderness.

Another actress I feel hasn't been able to get good parts, in spite of showing what she can do, is Jackee Harry, yes, the Jackee who started out in comedy in the sitcom 227. She gave a wonderful performance in the TV miniseries The Women of Brewster Place as a woman who never gave up looking for love. She just about broke my heart. (Ms. Harry is currently starring in a touring gospel play, having done a turn on TV's The Biggest Loser.)

Anyone who goes into the arts can tell you that it's a crapshoot. Good work doesn't guarantee that you'll go to the top. But I honestly don't see anything that Meryl Streep or Sally Field have that Ms. Fox and Ms. Harry do not. I do hope they get an opportunity to strut their stuff in good parts soon.

Here are clips of these actresses' stellar performances in Why Do Fools Fall in Love and The Women of Brewster Place, respectively. Enjoy!




Vivica A. Fox in Why Do Fools Fall in Love




Jackee Harry (and others) in The Women of Brewster Place, part 1




part 2

Hmm . . . .

Y'all have probably seen Phylicia Rashad in those weight loss commercials for a diet service. I hear that celebrities can get pretty sweet deals for this, with personal weight loss coaches to make sure the weight comes off. Let's face it, there's no better endorsement than to see a rapidly shrinking famous person every few weeks (and by the same token, it would be awful for the sponsor if the person wasn't successful). Not only do they get to lose weight, they're getting paid to do it.

Which makes the curious part of my nature wonder just how these things are set up. Does the celebrity contact the company and offer their services? Or does the company have staff who scout award shows or watch television, looking out for celebrities who have visibly gained weight (like Candice Bergen) and go to them with an offer, a sort of a Fat Lookout Squad? And, if so, has anyone refused?

I seem to remember Whoopi Goldberg doing commercials for one of these services a few years back, which is why I was so surprised to see at the Oscars that she'd gained the weight back (and then some). I guess you only get one shot at the big bucks to go on a public diet.

Kind of makes me wish I were famous. I could stand to have someone breathing down my neck making sure I lose at least X pounds per week to drop these 30 pounds!

Thoughts on the Oscars

Absolutely no surprises, which for me made it rather dull. If I'd entered an Oscar prediction contest, I would have gotten every question right.

Hugh Jackman made a charming host, but that "The Musical Is Back" Production number was awful. Maybe if they'd left that out, the second half wouldn't have felt so rushed. Those presenters acted like they had to go pee as soon as they read off the names and announced the winners.

I doubt that Jennifer Anniston really could have seen Brad and Angelina sitting in the front row under those bright lights of the stage, but it did seem like she was avoiding looking to her right, where they were sitting. But the camerapeople had no problem with cutting to close-ups of Brad's face, did they? Three times during her presentation.

Is it me, or does Steve Martin never seem to age?

I liked the idea of having five past acting winners salute the five nominees. They all came off looking like winners in a time when the expression, "It's honor enough to be nominated," has become cliché.

Those kids from Slumdog Millionaire were adorable, but they must have been bored stiff, sitting through a show that ran longer than three hours. I'll bet they'd rather have been at Disneyland.

I hope that Freida Pinto, Slumdog's leading lady, has a mainstream career. What a beautifiul young lady.

Meryl Streep, who will be 60 years old this year, looks fabulous. So does Eva Marie Saint, who is over 80.

No one looked really bad, fashion-wise, aside from Mickey Rourke (which I'm surprised no one) other than Sophia Loren. That dress was awful. She's always been a big woman, both in height and in figure, and that poufy dress with its overabundance of material made her look like a runaway fabric rack. What surprised me was that no one mentioned that on the Monday morning shows, other than Barbara Walters, who very gingerly said she was "a little disappointed" in Ms. Loren's choice of such an overpowering dress before hastening to add how good Sophia looks in her senior years. Meanwhile, poor Sarah Jessica Parker was being raked over the coals for that bridal look that made her look like an overage Barbie doll (for a hilarious description of Ms. Parker's ensemble and other amusing comments, visit Donna D's blog). Could it be that Ms. Loren's iconic status shields her from criticism? Such things do happen, and in fields other than movies. I've seen one writer praised by a reviewer who gushed that her book was wonderful, casually mentioning that the author will ask readers to suspend belief and assuring that this was fine, then the very same reviewer blasting another writer's novel for being "unrealistic." Personally, I don't see the difference, and I'm convinced it has to do with the first writer being well known (and possibly personally known to the reviewer) and the second not so much. But I digress.

If anybody knows what Ben Stiller's fake beard was all about, please tell me. I didn't get it.

Where were those camerapeople during the In Memoriam segment? I couldn't see half the people's clips/photos or their names because the camera was pulled so far back. If they could zoom in on Brad Pitt every ten seconds during Jennifer Aniston's presentation, they should have been able to focus on the departed for two minutes.

Finally, I wasn't aware that Whoopi Goldberg had gained so much weight recently. Which brings me to me next blog posting.

You'll have to tune in tomorrow to see what that's about. I've already said enough today.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Please send prayers for the people of Galveston Island and other areas near the East Texas coastline as Hurricane Ike prepares to bear down. It's a frightening graphic being shown in those weather reports; Ike's circumference seems to be as wide as entire the Gulf of Mexico. Here in Wisconsin they are already writing off the fall tourism season, because all that rain is going to get up here eventually. (We're gettng the remnants of Gustav right now.)

If you're in an area of the country that allows for more frivilous activity, you might want to consider going to the movies this weekend. A couple of good ones are opening today: The Family That Preys, Tyler Perry's newest; Righteous Kill, featuring acting giants Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino (I'm betting DeNiro gets top billing, but I can be wrong); and the one I'm most excited about, the long-awaited remake of the 1939 classic The Women, based on the play by Clare Boothe Luce.

The original play itself (no, I wasn't around for the original production in 1936, but I saw a filmed version of a revival on PBS a few years back; I'm old but not that old) was much racier than the film version, and this new version brings the story into the present day. I'm curious to see what they did with it. The cast sounds wonderful - you can always count on Bette Midler to liven things up - and includes a couple of sistahs (Jada Pinkett Smith and the too-seldom-seen-these-days Lynn Whitfield).

I'm also eager to see the cleverly titled The Family That Preys as well. All of the Tyler Perry movies I've seen (and I haven't seen them all) haven't thrilled me, but he's clearly getting better budgets and bigger stars (both Kathy Bates, of this film, and Angela Bassett, who starred in his previous outing, have "Academy Award" attached to their names as winner and nominee, respectively) and is moving away from the all-rich-white-collar-men-are-evil theme. As for the Madea character, the best thing I can say about her (?) is that a little bit goes a long way. Tyler Perry is like Fort Knox on legs, but the black media is urging people to go see his new film this weekend, because in this business it apparently isn't good enough to create movie after movie that all make money, both in ticket sales and in video rentals and sales, both domestically and internationally, without a single bomb in the bunch . . . you've got to be #1 (sounds a lot like the book business, but that's a column for another day). So go see the movie if you can.

Unfortunately, I'm doubting I'll be able to get to the theater this weekend. We're entertaining tomorrow (I thought I'd be done with my manuscript by now, which is why I approved this date). The rest of my weekend will go toward my overdue manuscript. I will say I'm pleased with my progress of the last one-third of the story. My goal is to get it at least a few days earlier than the date I've been given. My editor's been so nice about this; I don't think there's anything fun about rearranging a set production schedule (twice).

I'll conclude this column by addressing Michael Jackson's dirty drawers - complete with skid marks, it's been said - being auctioned off on E-Bay with an opening bid of $1 and also those rumors that Paul McCartney, fresh off a nasty divorce from Heather Mills, is about to marry for a third time. To the ultimate purchaser of Michael's underwear and to Sir Paul (if the rumors are true) I'd like to say this: There's no fool like an rich fool, or an old fool, or a rich old fool.

I'm outta here!

He's Getting Better

A lot of A-list Hollywood actors are looking, well, decidedly middle-aged and ordinary to me these days. Tom Hanks' boyish charms have long since disappeared. Even the well-preserved Harrison Ford looks more like his 66 years than he used to. Robert DeNiro looks like the guy on the next barstool at Happy Hour. And when I look at pretty boys like Pierce Brosnan or Denzel Washington, I'm reminded of what my stepdaughter said when she watched Uptown Saturday Night with me years ago: "Bill Cosby wasn't bad looking when he was younger." In other words, they look like middle-aged guys who were probably quite handsome . . . back in the day.

But Kevin Costner, who in an interesting twist never struck me as being particularly good-looking when he rose to prominence 20 years ago, is looking really sexy as he promotes his new comedy, Swing Vote. Actually, with the facial hair he reminds me of Tom Selleck (who when last seen looked pretty good to me).

I suspect I'm not alone in being older myself and salivating over a 35 to 40-ish group of actors: Jude Law, Terrence Howard, Morris Chestnut. But is there an actor over 50 who still rings your bell?

Go lay down, Sally

I saw a commercial this morning that I hoped had been retired. Sally Field is a great actress, winning two Best Actress Oscars, but even she couldn't convince me that "setting time aside" daily or weekly to take an osteoporosis medication is such an inconvenience. I mean, how long does it take to swallow a pill? (The medication she is hawking, Boniva, is taken once a month.)

Also, note how her brown hair is streaked with gray in these commercials. Sally is aging beautifully - those cheekbones I remember from her Gidget days have served her well. I guess the manufacturers didn't want her to look too young. You can bet you won't see any gray in her role as mother of several grown children on Brothers & Sisters . . . .

Then again, maybe I'm just cranky. I'm on my traditional week-before-vacation starvation diet, trying to fill up on Honey Bunches of Oats, fruit, and smoothies in an effort to lose a few pounds. I've been doing this since Monday and don't think I've lost so much as an ounce!

And You Said It Wouldn't Last

It looks like Star Jones Reynolds is dropping her third name, three-and-a-half years after her marriage to investment banker Al Reynolds.

The gossip wheels are turning, with the whispers of, "I told you he was gay!" running rampant. Star is asking that her privacy be respected.

Lots of luck with that request. It's hard to expect people to leave you alone when you insist on putting yourself in the spotlight. Remember how she shared all the details of that circus of a wedding (doing plenty of name dropping along the way to give the product manufacturers publicity) with the world. Do you really think people will keep their noses out of your divorce, Star?

But hey, at least you look great, even if you lost the weight for him.

What? No Banquet?



The Golden Globe (a rather prestigious award, considering only a paltry 85 people or so have a say in who carries home the statue), winners were announced at a press conference last night. Out of respect for the striking writers, the celebrities declined to appear.

The public was spared inane red carpet interviews that usually consist of one question: "Who designed your dress?" Everyone also knew the names of the winners within an hour.

I'll bet all those women who otherwise would have to fast and work out to get into those gowns celebrated by having a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake . . . .

Call a spade a spade

There's nothing wrong with having wide hips.

But it's ludicrous to claim after photographic evidence to the contrary that you're a size 2. I haven't laughed so hard since Pam Grier casually mentioned being a size 8 in an interview.

I don't have a particularly wide hips or a big ass, either. Even with a stomach that looks like I'm going into my fifth month, I can still get into a size 10 (at least on the bottom). Of course, at Chico's I'm a size 2 (they market their sizes in 0, 1, 2, 3, I presume to appeal to their customers' vanity). But their 2 is equivalent to an 8-10.

When I get to California, I'll have to check the clothing sizes just to see if they do as Chico's does and call a 10 a 2.

It's like measuring your age in dog years.