Tag Archives: reviews

A Reunion in C-8

That Championship Season (Studio Players 1977)

A couple of nights ago, my hot date (Janie) and I attended Studio Players’ 10-Minute Play Festival. Studio has been presenting this event for a number of years. They are to be congratulated and thanked. Janie and I have attended for years and watched the festival get better and better. Seven short plays and a packed house made for a rollicking evening.

But as nice as the performance was, for me, the magical moment happened before the opening curtain.

I was perusing the program when I realized I was sitting in the seat (C-8) I habitually inhabited probably a hundred-plus times while waiting in rehearsals for my turn to take the stage myself. I’m a theatre gym rat. In rehearsals, when I’m not on, I watch others work. I’m mesmerized by the process…by seeing and hearing other actors making choices that never occur to me. What vicarious discoveries!

I looked to my left and saw Tim Hull, the busiest actor in town, studying his program. I relived watching Tim prepare backstage for his startling scene opening our performance of “Another Part of the Forest” for On the Verge Theatre. That triggered me to recall others in that show that were key to tonight’s performance; Bob Singleton, Allie Darden, Chris Rose were all remarkable in “Forest” and huge parts of tonight’s effort.

I looked through my program and saw Patrick Lucas’ and Jennifer Roth’s names. Patrick’s rendition of “Sara Lee” and Jen’s “Moonlight Lullaby” were two of my very favorite moments from all the years of University of Kentucky’s “Grand Night for Singing.”

I recalled the final dress rehearsal of Studio’s “The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds” (1979) being interrupted by a large black bird flying through door propped open to beat the heat of the night (the Carriage House was not air-conditioned at that time). It flapped over my head in C-8, strutted and commanded the stage for few minutes, made a few unhelpful suggestions, before wending (rending?) its way back to its warm womb of a Bell Court late summer evening. It was an ominous omen for this first-time director. Later, when I finally saw Hitchcock’s THE BIRDS, I understood Tippi Hedren’s anxiety to the depths of my bones.

In 1983 I watched the best cast of which I never a member rehearse and perform my friend Chuck Pogue’s lovely script; “Whodunit Darling” night after night for about eight weeks. Eric Johnson, Trish Clark, Matt Regan Julie Stevens, Jack Lynch, and David Darst were simply excellent playing their roles, all of which I wanted to be playing myself. They were great…I loved/hated them all.

I first met Paul Thomas and Gene Arkle in Studio’s 1977 production of “The Runner Stumbles.” I have since worked with them in two dozen or so shows. I have been Paul’s theatrical hunting partner, wastrel son, store clerk, employer, gangster toadie, murder suspect, and political crony…all sitting with me tonight in C-8.

Nice night at the theatre…good show…good company.

Howlin’ at the Moon

Movie night!

I’m sneakin’ out tonight with my lunatic pup (Chloe) to gaze at the promised micro blue moon. We may howl. We may discuss the opening chapter of Neil Stephenson’s fascinating book; SEVENEVES. It’s my favorite of Stephenson’s novels, but Chloe quibbles with the last third of the piece. She has a fair point.

Then, we shall scurry to the library to watch the 1964 version/vision of H. G. Wells’ FIRST MEN IN THE MOON.

The personnel involved are the main reason to watch this film (Chloe suspects my shallowly buried hope of being chosen the next 75-year-old astronaut might also be a motivating factor).

Nathan Juran is the director. Mr. Juran is an Oscar winner for…Art Direction…for the HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY, a beautiful film, but nothing like his directing career. He directed some of my favorite guilty pleasures; THE DEADLY MANTIS (1957) – big bugs…never misses, 20 MILLION MILES TO EARTH (1957), and ATTACK OF THE 50-FOOT WOMAN (1958) – 50-foot Alison Hayes…never misses.

Nigel Kneale is our screenwriter. Mr. Kneale wrote screenplays for serious stuff; THE ENTERTAINER (1960) and LOOK BACK IN ANGER (1959), disturbing British sci-fi; THE STONE TAPE (1972) and FIVE MILLION MILES TO EARTH (1967), and a truly terrifying ghost story; THE WOMAN IN BLACK (1989), not the Radcliffe remake.

Valentine Dyall, the narrator was memorable in HORROR HOTEL (1960), a fine, foggy scare as Jethrow Keane, a hitchhiker to whom you do not want to give a ride. He was also in THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE (1963) as one half of the unhelpful caretaker couple; “No one from town will come after dark…in the night…in the dark.”

Our old friend Miles Malleson is also in this film. His is an amazing career; HORROR OF DRACULA (1958), THR HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (1959), and THE BRIDES OF DRACULA (1960) for Hammer, and about a hundred more.

We may howl indeed.

Dracula Does Not Suffer Fools

I enjoy joining a group of online groupies, most of whom I’ve never actually met, on Saturday nights when I can to watch, ridicule, and gush about the usually dreadful films screened by Svengoolie on MeTV. It’s a fun, irreverent group of tolerant enthusiasts, mostly younger than yours truly, but then what in the world isn’t.

Many of the participants, if you believe their protestations of innocence, are seeing these dubious gems for the first time. While it’s daunting for a grizzled cinematic dumpster-diver like me to find any comfort in the thought that voting-age folks will be casting those first votes sans (that means “without”…sorry, Groucho Marx joke) the seasoning of multiple viewings of THE RETURN OF THE INVISIBLE MAN, PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES, and KILLER KLOWNS OF OUTER SPACE, I do find solace when I see their delight in discovering;

  •  The power of random flames serving as a modern, purging deux-et-machina when troubles (aka monsters) become insurmountable, yet still flammable (as in dozens and dozens of European horror flicks).
  • Or that interplanetary, mutant children can be thwarted by imagining a brick wall (Village of the Damned).
  • Or that alien attackers who have just blinded 99%+ of the human race can be driven back by spraying them with sea water (Day of the Triffids).
  • Or that body-less flying brains can be shriveled by a Kenneth Tobey-type guy blowing up an atomic radio station in Canada (Fiend Without a Face).
  • Or that the potential lycanthrope menace can be nipped in the bud when his dad smacks him with a cane (The Werewolf, with Lon Chaney Jr).

It’s comforting to sneer and giggle at these masterpieces, and about as practical as my generation’s intense training in “duck and cover.”

And it’s a pretty nice clambake with no clams being hurt.

Last Saturday though, I couldn’t make it and I kinda wanted to. It was a flick I hadn’t seen (there are still one or two ‘em out there). I thought I’d be experiencing it for the first time like many of the other participants. Might be fun. Hell, I might turn into a twenty-something again.

Old fools…dream foolishly……

I recorded the flick instead and watched it this afternoon. I’m glad I did.

The film was BRAM STOKER’S DRACULA. This is not the 1992 film with Gary Oldman: it’s the British 1974 made-for-TV flick with Jack Palance playing the sanguinary Count.

There are no more menacing actors on the screen than Mr. Palance. This is unrelenting mean-ness. He can’t be reasoned with…or shamed…or redeemed…he is a vector of evil. Sounds like Ol’ Drac to me.

There’s scene where a tuxedo-clad gent who looks like Dudley Moore tries to stop Dracula with a pistol. Our vampire dismisses the impediment and the bullets with a disdainful backhand…just as you’d expect Jack Palance to handle a threat from Dudley Moore. That’s artistic integrity for you.

Disdainful backhand…

That’s what I had when I played at tennis in my 20’s. However, it was my opponents who did the disdaining.

In my 20’s…

…sigh…

Old fools……

A Feast for the Eyes

Movie night!

Flicks a la Francais.

It’s been a week of French cinema pour moi.

Janie and I have practically forsaken physically going to the movies. Since the spawning of covid, I don’t think we’ve been in a movie theater more than five or six times. Why should we? We have a big screen, various fire-sticks and subscriptions, a critter, and a convenient parking place at home. Door-Dash and/or the fridge are near to hand.

But a phone call from a wise friend who understands real priorities in life pointed out that Juliette Binoche continues to be fine to observe on a big screen. A date night at the Kentucky Theater ensued.

THE TASTE OF THINGS (2023) is delicious to watch. It’s fun to see Madame Binoche cooking again. I first saw her in Krzysztof Kieslowski’s 1993 mesmerizing film; THREE COLORS: BLUE, and then his earlier THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING (1988). A couple of years later I won a huge lobby poster of BLUE on eBay. I still haven’t found a space of suitable vastness to hang it, but I harbor hopes…perhaps a new wing to a house already too roomy for two dreamers. She cooked beautifully for Johnny Depp, Judy Dench, and Alfred Molina in CHOCOLAT (2000). Hell, I even thought she was the best thing in the 2014 GODZILLA – better than the big guy himself.

And THE TASTE OF THINGS is a nice film itself, but like some of Akira Kurusawa’s flicks, perhaps a battle too long. The ballet of the preparation of the opening feast lingered on every step in the kitchen.

Lingered…

Every step…….

I fear I had enough time to tally the pots and pans and utensils with the weary eyes of one whose main contribution in our kitchen is the post-prandial clean-up.

However, if you’re a member of the seemingly burgeoning crowd of people who take pictures of their food, this is the film for you.

I must fess up: I have been charmed but bewildered by this phenomenon.

I wonder…

The glory of a memorable restaurant meal is a recipe with multiple ingredients.

The food is one ingredient, but only one.

The setting is another. Is the room dramatic? Cozy? Huge? Is there a view of the ocean…mountain…desert…skyline…rings of Saturn? Is it on the roof…on the street…by the fireplace…in the kitchen?

Is the company good?

I have had memorable restaurant experiences.

  • Calamari and six vintage ports overlooking the Bay Bridge in San Francisco…
  • A Nighthawk Special in a cavern-like Columbia Steak House at 2am on Limestone Street.
  • Chateau Ausone 1978 in Yvette Wintergarden’s in Chicago.
  • Hot cross buns and café au lait in the snug of the local at Hever Castle on a grey morning.
  • Eggs Nova Scotia in a booth with a wall juke box at the Bungalow across the street from the Nu-Way Boot Shop on Mill Street.
  • Huevos Rancheros in in a sunny diner in Salinas.
  • A Caesar Salad lovingly assembled tableside in Denver.
  • Hot dogs off the right field line at Wrigley Field on a sunny Saturday afternoon. (Phillies lost).
  • Shrimp and grits on an overturned cable spool table, watching a shrimp boat unloading its restaurant resupplies at the neighboring dock in Charleston.
  • Green Chile Won Tons at the Bristol in Louisville after a stunning performance of “Child Byron” at Actors Theatre.
  • Coq au Vin at Café Chantant before slipping downstairs to Le Cabaret on Vine Street.

The food, the time, the place, and most of all the company, is what made these experiences memorable. I wanted to capture each of them forever, recreate the moments for myself, and be able to share them with others. Perhaps that’s why we take our meal photos.

No photo is up to such a task, but the urge to share and relive the good stuff is nothing but admirable.