On the heels of my Sunday Memory Drawer entry from Easter Sunday where we met my Aunt Helen, let's meet her husband. My Uncle Fritz. He was my father's older brother and the closest sibling he had.
As I remember, they was inseparable. They'd go fishing together. One was always at the other's house. Heck, they were building a recreation room in our attic, complete with a thoroughly restored pool table. He was considered the spirit of our family. As Grandma would say, he would make "all the fun" at gatherings. As you can see from the photo above, he obviously loved life. Lit it up and drank it. Yep, Uncle Fritz was the lifeforce of our existence. And he constantly scared the shit out of me.
Not that he ever did anything to me. Oh, wait, let me retract that. He used to do something to me which I will describe in a bit. But, overall, there was nothing that should have made me petrified of Uncle Fritz. But he just seemed to be bigger than everybody else in the family.
And louder. A male version of Ethel Merman. You heard Uncle Fritz coming a mile away. I would hear his voice enter the back door of my grandmother's kitchen downstairs and I would immediately shiver. To a five-year-old, bombastic personalities are not necessarily endearing. They come off more like the giant bedeviling Jack on his beanstalk.
When he visited, my parents never understood my reluctance to be anywhere near Uncle Fritz. My mom would call me into the kitchen.
"Here. Go bring this bottle of beer to your Uncle Fritz."
Why can't you, Mom? I mean, I don't want to be an enabler for someone's potential alcoholism. Or something like that? Eventually, I would have to run in and drop the bottle so quickly that I easily could have triggered a liquid accident. Incomprehensible reaction on my part? Sure. But you had to be there. Meanwhile, my dad and he were super close and Uncle Fritz' visits ramped up significantly when they started working on converting our attic into a game room/pool hall. The two of them bought this billiard table that had been originally manufactured around 1900. Where did it come from? Who knows? But, every weekend, they would be working on this room. Lugging plywood and other tools up the stairs. My mother would, of course, suggest that I help. "Go see if your father and Uncle Fritz need anything?" Oh, what the hell can I do? I'm only five. But I would get suckered into something. And always wind up in the most precarious position I could be in when it came to Uncle Fritz. Walking up a flight of stairs with him behind me. Why, you ask?
Because Uncle Fritz loved to give me a wedgie. Or pretend his finger was a buzzer and he would stick it between my legs. With the loudest and scariest sound known to man.
He never failed to do this when I was walking in front of him up a flight of stairs.
And it never failed to scare the crap out of me. To my young perspective, Uncle Fritz was essentially the fun house at the local amusement park. With a distinct de-emphasis on the word "fun."
I did my best to avoid him at all costs.
And that desire was further enhanced the very next summer. There was something going on in my family. The hushed tones and whispers between all the adults didn't go unnoticed with yours truly. But, naturally, there was a definitive age limit to how concrete information was shared. Finally, my mom told me we were going to another relative's house for a going-away party. In my family, get-togethers were arranged for a myriad of reasons. Birthdays. Engagements. The first day of a given month. Any excuse to have a party.
I asked what was the particular reason for this shindig?
"Uncle Fritz is going into the hospital and we're going to wish him well."
Gee, what was wrong with him? And hopefully it has something to do with that index finger he keeps sticking into my crotch. Mom was surprisingly compliant with details. "He's got yellow jaundice." All this five-year-old heard was the word "yellow." Now this big giant I recoiled from would be nothing but a large banana. And I was creeped out all over again. So when we went to this gathering, I sat in the car. And watched from a distance as Uncle Fritz got into a car and headed off to the hospital. He didn't look yellow to me from a distance, but I didn't want to get any closer to be sure. And as I saw him pass by our car in his, I peeked from the car seat where I was hiding. I made out the very top of his head. Little did I know at the time that this would be the very last time I would be scared by Uncle Fritz. Or was it? Click in next Sunday for the rest of the saga. Dinner last night: Enjoyed my panini on Friday so much that I made another.
What a marvelous photograph of two classic movie palaces in Westwood, California. A stone's throw from my home. Miraculously, both theaters are still there and doing business as single screen venues. Movies the way they ought to be seen.
And, then there's 2013. Films that should not be seen. Every weekend, we get a few more vomited out of Hollywood. Hopefully, I can steer you in the right direction. You know the drill, folks. I'll scan the Los Angeles Times movie pages to give you my gut reaction to the garbage that is stinking up the cinema near you.
As for me, I am headed tomorrow to Disney Studios for a special 50th anniversary screening of "Son of Flubber."
Admission: Paul Rudd and Tina Fey. The title won't feature mine.
The Croods: I saw this last week. The Flintstones in 3-D. You need to rent a child in order to see this.
The Company You Keep: Robert Redford is back behind and in front of the camera. All about an innocent guy who used to have subversive ties. Well, sort of innocent.
The Call: I reviewed this mess yesterday. Please have yourself check for short term memory loss.
Oz The Great and Powerful: Unless Judy Garland magically shows up, avoid this Disney rip-off.
Hava Nagila - The Movie: As opposed to Hava Nagila - The Song. Or Hava Nagila - The Creamed Herring.
GI Joe - Retaliation: I had a GI Joe when I was a kid. This is not reason enough for me to get my ears blown off in a movie theater.
Identity Thief: I'm collecting thoughts on how our country can get Melissa McCarthy deported permanently. Send me only your best ideas.
The Host: It's about vampires. Just in case you thought this was a documentary about Jack Paar.
Room 237: A documentary about the Stanley Kubrick movie "The Shining." How could I see this when I never saw the original?
Evil Dead 3D: They're remaking movies from the 80s. Kill me now.
No: Okay, if you insist. It's all about some revolt in Chile. As they do in that country, you could simply wait 24 hours for the next one.
The Brass Teapot: A teapot with magical powers. I always had my suspicions about that Earl Grey guy.
42: A much bally-hooed movie about Jackie Robinson and I'm trying to find what I did with my advance ticket.
Ginger and Rosa: If Fred's not involved, forget it.
It's a Disaster: Four couples get together to await the end of the world. And here I thought it was a documentary about the Federal government.
Scary Movie 5: Didn't Scary Movie 4 come out last month?
Simon Killer: A college grad in Paris hooks up with a prostitute. Don't they all?
Disconnect: A drama about a bunch of strangers who rely too much on technology. You could see it on the big screen...or simply wait till Netflix streams it.
No Place on Earth: Another documentary about a family who escaped the Holocaust during World War II. I don't know about you, but I've lost count of the number of films about the same subject.
Upstream Color: A love story about two people who separately survived a kidnapping. They may have met on CarTrunk.com.
The Angels Share: A guy in Glascow invents his own malt liquor. Also available in cans and handy 8 ounce bottles.
Fists of Legend: Friends compete on an amateur martial arts TV show. Guess what country this film is from? Those who answered China now proceed to the next paragraph.
Leonie: A bipic about famed Leonie Gilmour. Anyone?
The Place Beyond the Pines: Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper in a tale of desperate people. Expect lots of violence and body art.
To The Wonder: Terence Malick's latest film and the very last movie to be reviewed by Roger Ebert. He gave it 3 and a 1/2 stars.
Lotus Eaters: A London model struggles with her drug-addicted boyfriend. Georgy Girl with a splash of heroin.
From Up on Poppy Hill: More Japanese animation. I say....sayonara.
The Sapphires: An Aborigine singing group goes on tour to entertain American troops. What? Joey Heatherton was not available?
Olympus Has Fallen: An action film where the White House is under attack. Shown nightly on Fox News and MSNBC.
Jurassic Park 3D: Because Hollywood tries to wring more money out of us by re-releasing old classic movies with the added 3-D illusion that really doesn't work anyway. It's your dough, folks.
The Incredible Burt Wonderstone: It stars Steve Carell and Jim Carrey. Two excellent reasons to avoid this swill.
Free Angela and All Political Prisoners: A documentary and you can certainly figure out the subject matter. Let's not and say we did.
Trance: An art auctioneer who has become mixed up with a group of criminals
partners with a hypnotherapist in order to recover a lost painting. Directed by Danny Boyle which means you won't be able to understand what most of the characters are saying.
Reality: From Italy. Luciano is a charming fishmonger whose unexpected and sudden obsession
with being a contestant on a reality show leads him down a rabbit hole
of skewed perceptions and paranoia. "Dancing with the Fishes." On the Road: Beatniks and hippies have eye-opening experiences as they travel the country. Obviously none of them have jobs. Neighboring Sounds: A man in Brazil deals with the incessant barking of the dog next door. If the movie's location is shifted to Korea, the film is over in five minutes. Starbuck: A man sells his sperm to 142 different people. That's an awful lot of Kleenex. Quartet: The Maggie Smith film directed by Dustin Hoffman is still around. Didn't this open way back in 1979? Spring Breakers: Four college girls rob a restaurant to go on spring break. Who drives the getaway car? Connie Francis? Tyler Perry's Temptation: How many more movies must we endure from this moron? Somebody called him the "Black Woody Allen?" So should this film be called "An'Knee Hall?" Snitch: A father goes undercover for the DEA in order to free his son who was imprisoned after being set up in drug deal. Starring the unlikely duo of Dwayne 'The Rock" Johnson and Susan Sarandon. I guess that's still an upgrade from Tim Robbins. 6 Souls: Julianne Moore as a female forensic psychiatrist who discovers that all of one of her patient's multiple personalities are murder victims. Wait a week and you'll see the same plot on some CSI show. Bless Me Ultima: A drama set in New Mexico during WWII, centered on the relationship
between a young man and an elderly medicine woman who helps him contend
with the battle between good and evil that rages in his village. Wake me when the sleep potion wears off. Dorfman in Love: Unknowingly trapped in her role as caretaker of her unappreciative
family, a young single woman desperately needs to get her own life. When
she volunteers to cat sit at her unrequited love's downtown L.A loft,
her world, as she knows it, changes forever. Originally released in 2011. Never a good sign. Dinner last night: Steak, fries, and asparagus.
When a donkey flies, you really can't expect it to stay in the air long. The same can be said for any movie with Halle Berry, one of the most overrated actresses working in Hollywood today. Hey, you really shouldn't expect much from her on the screen. She can't even drive around the block without hitting another car.
Here's one of my "cleaning lady" films. What's that? Well, when you work out of your home, there are those days when you need to vacate the premises so your housekeeper can do her thing without feeling like you are watching her every move with the Swifter. And that's what brought me to go see "The Call." The time it was showing and the hour that Maria was coming were simultaneous.
And, oddly enough, this was a game of cinematic roulette that I almost won. Because the first hour of "The Call" is terrific. It brings a moviegoer into a world that you seldom get to see. The inner workings of a 911 call center. You know you're going to get a lot of excitement because this one is situated in Los Angeles and you know how goofy that city can be. You get to see how the phone responders are trained and how they are monitored. The myriad of resources at their fingertips. The psychological struggles of helping that strange voice calling for help and the agony at never hearing how the problem ultimately gets resolved.
Indeed, this has the makings of a good documentary. And started to be a damn entertaining dramatic movie.
Hit and Run Halle is our heroine. Devoted to her call board and helping her fellow man. She even dates a cop, so she never really does disconnect from those that serve the city of Los Angeles. One day, she gets a distress call from a young teenage girl alone at home with an intruder in the house. Hit and Run Halle makes a small but honest mistake which disconnects the call. A week later, the girl's body is found in East Los Angeles, where most teenage girls are buried in this city. This, of course, emotionally destroys our favorite 911 operator, who goes off the board for a while to teach other new people how not to make the same mistake she just did. Naturally, fate brings Hit and Run Halle back to the call board where she winds up talking to another teenage girl who's been kidnapped and locked in the trunk of a red Toyota Corolla. I don't think this is the type of product placement the Japanese car maker had in mind. But, you learn how, if you happen to be locked in the trunk of a Toyota Corolla, to kick out the rear tail light. See how educational "The Call" can be. Of course, this winds up as the type of Amber Alert that seems to occur once an hour in Los Angeles. There is an unsettling confrontation between the abductor and chauffeur Michael Imperioli of "The Sopranos." Imperioli doesn't get many lines but he's on screen a lot in a "Weekend At Bernie's" kind of way. Catch my drift? Meanwhile, you're captivated at how one of these Amber events unfolds. And you learn how police, paramedics, the media, and John Q. Public can come together to help resolve these situations. So far, so good. And then....... The final two reels of "The Call" are shown. Here the movie comes off the track in ways unimaginable. The screenwriter and director lose their way in the forest like Hansel and Gretel. It's as defeating as if NASA, shooting for the surface of the moon, found out that their rocket landed in Casper, Wyoming. "The Call" falls off the highest cliff ever. The first complete suspension of logic is when you discover Hit and Run Halle is dealing with the very same guy that killed the first teenage girl. Who didn't see that coming? Stevie Wonder, put your hand down. Even you knew it. Meanwhile, what we end up with is your typical slasher horror film. Once you meet the abductor, you're faced with the standard maniac who can't be killed regardless of how many times you stab him, whack him over the head with a chair, or throw face in his face. Just know that he will get up the mat repeatedly. That nasty sinus infection that just won't go away. And, of course, the ridiculousness of it all is further compounded by the mind-numbingly stupid plot device that has Hit and Run Halle to leave her post on the 911 call board and go out....wait for it, all by herself....to an isolated field where she will seek out the abductor's hiding place. There is one totally stupid plot point after another. The only thing that would have saved the ending for me is if the director chose to have Hit and Run Halle get involved in a car chase. Now that would have been something to see. The ending of "The Call" is no different than any other horror movie you have seen in the last twenty years and there's not a single original moment in it. All the more disappointing because you thoroughly enjoyed the first hour of the film. Next time my housekeeper is due to come over, I need to call 911 and ask them where a better movie is playing. Dinner last night: BBQ Tri-tip sandwich at Lucille's Smokehouse.
Happy birthday, Omar Sharif. It's probably so much cooler without that Wamsutta fitted sheet over your head.
837: HALLEY'S COMET AND EARTH EXPERIENCED THEIR CLOSEST APPROACH TO ONE ANOTHER.
If you were Halley's Comet, would you want to get close to Earth?
879: LOUIS III BECOMES KING OF THE WESTERN KINGS.
Louis III equals Farmer John.
1407: THE LAMA DESHIN SHEKPA VISITS THE MING DYNASTY CAPITAL AT NANJING. HE IS AWARDED THE TITLE GREAT TREASURE PRINCE OF DHARMA.
And Greg?
1606: THE CHARTER OF THE VIRGINIA COMPANY OF LONDON IS ESTABLISHED BY ROYAL CHARTER BY JAMES I OF ENGLAND WITH THE PURPOSE OF ESTABLISHING COLONIAL SETTLEMENTS IN NORTH AMERICA.
And so it begins. Here comes Thanksgiving.
1710: THE STATUTE OF ANNE, THE FIRST LAW REGULATING COPYRIGHT, ENTERS INTO FORCE IN GREAT BRITAIN.
Until somebody stole the law and copied it.
1796: PIONEER JIM BOWIE IS BORN.
David's great-great-grandfather.
1815: THE MOUNT TAMBORA VOLCANO BEGINS A THREE MONTH LONG ERUPTION. IT AFFECTS EARTH'S CLIMATE FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS.
Nobody tell Al Gore.
1847: PUBLISHER JOSEPH PULITZER IS BORN.
He was no prize.
1856: THE THETA CHI FRATERNITY IS FOUNDED AT NORWICH UNIVERSITY.
When is the first Norwich Unioversity panty raid?
1865: DURING THE CIVIL WAR, GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE ADDRESSES HIS TROOPS FOR THE LAST TIME AFTER SURRENDERING THE DAY BEFORE.
"We lost. Deal with it."
1866: THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS (ASPCA) IS FOUNDED IN NEW YORK.
Dogs buy the first round.
1874: THE FIRST ARBOR DAY IS CELEBRATED IN NEBRASKA.
Again, dogs buy the first round.
1912: THE TITANIC LEAVES ENGLAND FOR HER FIRST AND ONLY VOYAGE.
Can I get that drink with crushed ice?
1915: ACTOR HARRY MORGAN IS BORN.
I once saw him eating soup at Jerry's Famous Deli in Westwood, California.
1916: THE PROFESSIONAL GOLFERS ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA (PGA) IS CREATED IN NEW YORK CITY.
Because there's a lot of golf courses in Manhattan.
1921: ACTOR CHUCK CONNORS IS BORN.
Before he was the Rifleman, he was a Brooklyn Dodger.
1925: THE GREAT GATSBY BY F. SCOTT FITZGERALD IS FIRST PUBLISHED IN NEW YORK CITY.
Oh, great. Now I have homework.
1929: ACTOR MAX VON SYDOW IS BORN.
The power of Christ compels you.
1932: ACTOR OMAR SHARIF IS BORN.
Also a champion bridge player. As if anybody still plays that.
1936: FOOTBALL COACH/ANNOUNCER JOHN MADDEN IS BORN.
Probably in the back of a bus.
1938: FOOTBALL PLAYER/ANNOUNCER DON MEREDITH IS BORN.
Dandy Don!
1953: WARNER BROTHERS PREMIERES THE FIRST 3-D FILM, "HOUSE OF WAX."
An invention that still doesn't really work in 2013.
1959: AKIHITO, FUTURE EMPEROR OF JAPAN, WEDS MICHIKO.
How do you say "who cares" in Japanese?
1962: DIRECTOR MICHAEL CURTIZ DIES.
He directed three films on my list of Top 25 Favorite Movies. "Yankee Doodle Dandy," "Mildred Pierce," and "White Christmas."
1963: 129 AMERICAN SAILORS DIE WHEN THE SUBMARINE USS THRESHER SINKS AT SEA.
Thresher is trashed.
1965: ACTRESS LINDA DARNELL DIES.
In a fire. Forever Embers.
1970: PAUL MCCARTNEY ANNOUNCES THAT HE IS LEAVING THE BEATLES FOR PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL REASONS.
Those reasons include one Yoko Ono?
1971: IN AN ATTEMPT TO THAW RELATIONS WITH THE UNITED STATES, CHINA HOSTS THE US TABLE TENNIS TEAM FOR A VISIT.
What? No air hockey??
1972: FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE NOVEMBER 1967, AMERICAN B-52 BOMBERS BEGIN BOMBING NORTH VIETNAM.
What did you expect bombers to do? Dump water balloons?
1975: ACTRESS MARJORIE MAIN DIES.
The tugboat is docked.
1991: ACTRESS NATALIE SCHAFER DIES.
When it comes to life, Schafer, you're not having more than one.
1992: COMEDIAN SAM KINISON DIES.
Twenty plus years later, people can still hear him screaming.
2000: ACTOR LARRY LINVILLE DIES.
Ferretface.
2010: ACTRESS DIXIE CARTER DIES.
Ain't whistlin' now.
Dinner last night: Pork schnitzel and potato salad at Bier Beisl.
Last Thursday while reading the LA Times over breakfast, I read a small blurb about film critic Roger Ebert and his announcement that another health setback was going to have him cut down on the number of movie reviews he would write.
Two hours later, I heard he had died and my immediate thought was that Roger hadn't planning on cutting back that much. Indeed, in the day that followed, there were many laudatory essays and commentary on Roger Ebert's impact on the world of moviegoing.
And, yes, they were all justified. Here's yet another passage that has all reflecting on our own designated time of life. Because, as a young and trying-to-be-intelligent movie fan, it was the work of Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert that contributed to my education at a time in my existence where you could always find me in a theater on the opening weekend of a new movie.
Way back when, there were only movie reviews in newspapers. As a child, that was my only barometer. The New York Daily News which doled out stars as a benchmark of a film's success or failure. Even with that tabloid newspaper, the reviewers seemed always a bit erudite and over-educated. All the movies that got four stars sounded like films that would be boring to me. The things that appealed to me always wound up with two-and-a-half stars from this ultra-crusty bunch. And there was usually personal despair when a long-anticipated Disney release, usually ballyhooed on last Sunday's "Wonderful World of Color," got mercilessly panned.
But, then, about the same time I got older and smarter, there was a PBS show on Channel 13 in New York every Thursday night. "Sneak Previews" with this two film critics from Chicago, which might have been on the other side of the moon for all I knew. But, as I tuned in religiously every week, I realized that these were guys reviewing the latest releases with a more down-to-earth and commonplace approach.
Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert talked to me in a way that I...and everybody else...could understand. Sometimes, it wasn't about whether a movie was artistically formed. If they enjoyed something where a lot of crap got blown up, they would tell you so. This was a cinematic public service like no other I had known.
And, as a result, "Sneak Previews" became must-see-TV for me. And loads of other movie fans.
Eventually, their weekly show was so successful that it moved to local TV syndication. Yet, it still served for me as a guide to what the hell I would be doing on the upcoming weekend. Or, in some cases, either validating or questioning what I had seen on the previous weekend. It was actually fun to watch "Siskel and Ebert at the Movies." Did you agree? Was your thumb up or down? Whose side were you on?
Over time, I realized that my tastes seemed to gravitate more towards Gene Siskel. Sometimes, Roger got a little heavy-handed and stuffy with his commentary. And he tended to give free passes to anything that was either produced in Chicago or filmed by a Black director. I always thought that, being married to an African-American woman, Roger had no recourse but to over-glorify certain movies. If you look at his reviews over time, you will notice the same tendency.
Nevertheless, both Gene and Roger remained my weekly movie guide for years. When Siskel died in 1999, the show lost a little of its luster for me. And Roger, in the lead role with a cacophony of guest co-hosts, got even more heavy-handed. But, at the same time, this program was still doing its job. Telling the avid movie fan all about what was populating the multiplexes that weekend. And doing it in a manner that we could all understand and appreciate.
Later on, as many know, Roger Ebert was diagnosed with cancer. The news was literally and figuratively jaw dropping, effectively robbing the film critic of his voice.
Well, not really.
Because, even though he could no longer speak, Roger Ebert still had plenty to say. And he didn't lose his ability to formulate his opinions and type them into a computer. The reviews kept coming. In fact, during 2012, he had written reviews for 306 films, which is the most he had done in any single year. There was no slowing him down. A true testament to the passion he had for his craft. And the movies we all love to love and love to hate.
Admittedly, during his later years, Roger did get a little screwy. He would expand his commentary beyond film to a myriad of controversial topics that he had little knowledge of. Heck, some of this nonsense even earned him a Len Speaks honor of "Moron of the Month for May 2010." His tweets on current events would be cringe-worthy. I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up and stick to what he knew.
Because when he talked about the movies, we all wanted to listen. Agreeing or disagreeing was immaterial. The real headline was that he was still speaking to us. And, since I do movie reviews on this blog, I will try to continue in the same way. Telling you what I like and what I hate. A small homage to the guys who got decent movie reviewing started.
Thanks to both Roger and Gene for shaping our cinematic existences. May all the movies you see in that heavenly balcony be all "thumbs up."
