I posted Bimbo's Initiation and commented briefly on Facebook, but I had to expand on it and the work of producer and animator Max Fleischer. The ever Happy Mutants at BoingBoing posted the video earlier today, describing it as Fleischer's 'darkest short' or something to that effect. Go to BoingBoing to see exactly what they said. Anyway, it ended up inspiring tonight's Forgotten Gems post.
Fleischer was a contemporary of Walt Disney and released his own animated feature Gulliver's Travels in 1939, two years after Snow White and the Seven Dwarfsproved an animated feature could be successful. To be perfectly honest, Fleischer's film is technically superior to Disney's, using rotoscoping techniques that wouldn't surface in quite the same way again until Richard Linklater's 2006 adaptation of Philip K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly (albeit in an entirely different artistic interpretation).
Fleischer and his team were certainly more experimental in their animated films than Disney, catering to a more adult (if not exactly more sophisticated) audience. Most famous for producing the original Betty Boop and Popeye cartoons, the writers and animators at Fleischer's studio were undoubtedly influential on any number of animators to come after, including Friz Freleng; Tex Avery; Ralph Bakshi and modern animators like John Krikfalusi and director Joe Dante for his segment of the notorious Twilight Zone: The Movie.
So here's the bizarre, surreal and rather nightmarish Bimbo's Initiation in all it's weird glory:
And here is Dante's take on the style:
"Run, Ethel! Run!" Indeed.
Of course, Fleischer's Popeye cartoons could be just as dark (Sea Hag, anyone?). He also produced a series of simply gorgeous Superman shorts:
Still, I think Fleischer's masterpiece and a true forgotten gem is Gulliver's Travels. If you've never seen it, you should seek it out. Gorgeously rendered with a message of tolerance and forgiveness and a very clever score, every animation fan (or film fan) owes it him or herself to see it. The full movie is available on YouTube. The trailer is below:
Animated films aren't just for children. I promise. And while Fleischer's movie is hardly a definitive version of Swift's satirical novel, it is a good start in introducing kids to a classic while enjoying the artistry of the piece, itself. Hell, I've even referenced Fleischer's work in my screenplay 'Comatose Joe.' And there's no doubt in my mind that his creative team was a bunch of stoners and trippers, long before it was cool.I'm just sayin'...
Growing up in the Philly suburbs in the 50's and 60's, there were more than a few Philly-centric local celebrities who hosted kids' afternoon programming, among them: Pixanne; Wee Willy Weber; Chief Halftown and Gene London. But there was only one gal for this l'il dogie -- Sally Starr, who hosted the Philadelphia market's highest rated children's program, "Popeye Theatre" on WPVI Channel 6 from the 50's until 1971, showing Popeye cartoons (the Max Fleischer ones were my favorites) and Three Stooges shorts. She made many personal appearances and retired from her last job as a C/W DJ in Vineland, NJ in 2006. Her career got its start from her 1958 single "Our Gal Sal," with Bill Haley and the Comets. I wish I could find a recording of it... but I did find this insane 1957 blatant attempt to cash in on Gene Autry's massive Christmas hit, an Easter ditty called "Rocky the Rockin' Rabbit" (I crap you not):
And here's a clip of Sal hosting "Western Theatre" for a local South Jersey channel in the 80's (sorry about the quality):
Sally made lots of personal appearances at local events and church carnivals, so when it was announced that Sal was coming to a church fair right in my own town when I was maybe 7 or 8, I begged my parents to take me. And when I say 'begged,' I literally mean down on my knees; hands clasped; eyes cast down begging like a condemned man pleading for his life. So, off we went to Our Lady of Perpetual Hope, a Greek Orthodox church very close by. The exact events of that amazing summer night are hazy lo these many years later, but I do remember the excitement as my father (back when he was my hero), pushed his way through the crowd to the edge of the stage with me on his shoulders and Sally reached down, patted and rubbed my head and said "Here ya go, darlin'" handing me a signed 8x10 which stayed in my room for many years after. My mother, who couldn't have been prouder, still thinks Sally secretly hated kids, but made an exception by rubbing my head. I say my mother is a little nutty, sometimes -- yes, I know. It does run in the family.
Our Gal Sal passed away yesterday, just 2 days after her 90th birthday and many Philadelphia-area boomers are very sad, right now.
All of that having been said, let's get to Sally's dilemma, shall we?
Of course, that requires a little more setup. At Saturday Night Fever High, we had two teachers named Jones. One was a burly bull-dog with a thick, coarse buzz-cut of white hair and a jet black unibrow that always made him look as if he was scowling. He taught chemistry, didn't understand creative people at all, and hated me. His was the only class in which I ever received an F. The other Mr. Jones... well, antithesis isn't quite the word. And because the mean Jones' first name started with a C, he was only listed as 'Jones' on your schedule. The fun Jones' first name was Lloyd, and he appeared on you class schedule as 'JonesL,' which led every student in the building call the beloved Lloyd Jones, 'Jonesal.' JonesL taught 10th Grade Social Studies. He claimed to be color-blind and that he let his dog pick out his clothes (which I suspect were purposely awful); introduced his students to ideas like free-thought, parody and political satire; taught with passion and humor and was probably only 10 years older than we were. So, as part of a lesson on ethics and freedom of choice, Jonesl told every class the tale of "Sally Starr's Dilemma." I have no idea where Lloyd Jones is these days. I have no idea if anyone has ever shared this story on the Internet. I give him full credit. If you are he, reading this, please contact me. If you are a classmate or contemporary and know anything about Mr. Jones, please let me know. *
Anyway, without further ado, "Sally Starr's Dilemma:"
JonesL and his cousin went to a local fair to see Sally Starr. They were so excited, they got there early and went on lots of rides and ate lots and lots of greasy, sugary, generally bad for you fair food. They almost forgot why they had come to the fair, when an announcement came over the P.A.: Our Gal Sal was taking the stage! JonesL and his cousin ran, but couldn't get close enough. That's when JonesL's cousin suggested they get on the Ferris Wheel next to the stage, where they could get a really good look at her. Needless to say, they got on, went around once and then stopped high over the stage. JonesL looked over and whether it was the swaying of the gondola, the height, the food or a combination of all three, let loose a spray of vomit right over the stage. And just as he did, he saw Sal look up at the sound of his wretching. So, her dilemma? Does Sal stay where she was and hope it misses her, or duck out of the way hope she avoids it? JonesL never told us what Sally actually did that day. He would only say that when she appeared on "Popeye Theatre" that afternoon, she wasn't wearing her hat. The moral of the story: no matter where you go, how you move or what you choose, you might get puked on from a kid on the Ferris Wheel. And if you get puked on, get over it and move on. There are seriously worse things in life.
*A high school classmate informed me today (Tuesday) that JonesL passed away last year. I was sad to hear that, too,
Really? Another blog post from a movie geek about gay comics? Please... But let this play out. You know I have my own take on things. And this post is actually more for myself a few other fanboy friends. You all know who you are, Stephen; Aaron; Tom; Murph; Chino, Bill M. If you don't get it or can't identify, don't feel bad. I still love that you check in every now and then. So let's talk about comics, shall we?
The comics I read as a kid were Creepy, Eerie and Vampirella from Warren Publications. I know you are hardly surprised by this. The great thing about Warren was, they got around the infamous Comics Code by calling their comics "magazines" and publishing them in an 8"x11" format. The children of the original Tales from the Crypt, the Warren horror comics were dark and weird and silly and often had gorgeous covers from artists like Frank Frazetta. My friends and I would by them from Bob's Bookstore at 5 Points. Bob sold new and used books and comics. He also sold illegal half-cover comics, 10 for $1.00. My personal love of superheroes comes more from TV and movies than from the comics. I didn't discover most of their comic-book personae until I'd seen some other medium's version. And while their is plenty to love about the Marvel Universe, I will always prefer DC Characters. I may have mentioned a few times how many times I was Batman for Halloween (not to mention just playing in the yard with a big bath sheet tied around my neck). And don't even talk to me about tearing up at certain points during the good Superman movies. Yes, I really loved just about every Marvel movie in the past few years (Thor being the exception), but the DC characters are more... pained, I guess. Yes, even Superman - Kal-El is an alien, after all. The LGBT community as a whole may identify more with Marvel's X-Men (and I certainly do, to some extent), but DC's tortured souls speak to me differently. Anyway...
Bill M. is also a DC guy. Bill's love of Superman is equal to mine of Batman. Bill and I met this past spring and quickly found out we love many of the same things and have been posting all kinds of Superhero nonsense on each other's Facebook timelines. Many of our friends have caught on and also post similar things to both of us. Today, sweet Stephen in Portland posted a picture of some hand-painted Christmas ornaments with the logos of several superheroes. Well and good, until my friend Aaron asked "What is Cap(tain America) doing with all those DC characters?" I looked at thepicture again. Yup. Batman; Superman; Flash, Green Lantern (all DC) and Captain America (Marvel). "I didn't make them," I replied, "but the thought of Cap and Bats is pretty hot."
Aaron then linked to the cover for a DC/Marvel crossover with Batman and Captain America joining forces. "No Rule 34" he said. So of course, Uncle P, being the dirty old bear that I am, went looking for Rule 34. And man, is there lots of it!
I'm not sure if that's Brandon or Tom (maybe Tom's head on Brandon's body?) in that composite on the left but it's definitely the work of a gay geek with some mad Photoshop skills and a dirty mind. I personally don't see this particular pairing as very probably in a gay cross-over story. Most of the fan-made gay superhero stuff online is in the form of paintings and drawings (and plenty of 'shopping), usually deliberately done in the style of an established comics artist. Here are a few I found:
Why Does Superman Look So Surprised?
Gay Emo Superboy
Who the Hell Are These Guys?
Of course this fascination with turning established characters gay is hardly new:
Highly Illogical
Oh, Mr. Frodo!
Malfoy Has a Magic Wand
Still a Better Love Story Than Twilight
It's obvious that the fans want what the fans want. Give us some more hot gay boys, Hollywood! We've grown up since Brokeback Mountain. Of course it could all explode in our faces. Fan fiction also gave us"Fifty Shades of Gray" {violent shudder of revulsion}. I have lots more to say about this subject, but that's for another post.
I will say that 20 years ago, I wouldn't have written a piece like this (indeed, many of the pieces I've written). LGBT acceptance has grown beyond what I ever thought I'd see in my lifetime, and the comics were at the forefront of inclusion, long before many people even noticed. Both Marvel and DC have LGBT characters driving major story lines. Even the wholesome Archie Comics introduced Kevin Keller, an out and proud Military Officer, who married his African American partner Clay Walker this past January. Progress is slow, until it happens all at once. We're getting there.
Of course, there's nothing wrong in finding the humor in all it:
Nostalgia fully rears its bittersweet head in three... two... one:
I don't think I knew what it meant when, at age 10, I had my first crush on a boy (more on that, in a bit). In those days, my neighborhood friends and I would take every chance we could to look at somebody's dad's Playboy or other titty magazine, carrying on like the 10, 11 and 12 year-olds we were. For me, it wasn't so much the titties as it was the thought of being "naughty." I didn't understand the significance of that, either.
Life for kids who would now be referred to as "Tweens" was very different in the early 70's. We knew the future was coming, bringing technology with it. We had no idea of when or what or how much that technology was going to completely change the entire world in a few short decades. There were no video games then and there were 3 main channels, PBS and a couple of VHF channels (what my mother still refers to as "the off channels," for some reason). Even though we were very early cable TV subscribers (which meant we got off channels from New York!), we still had less than a dozen channel choices. There was no HBO; Showtime or Cinemax. In fact, the first time a friend told me his cousin got a channel that played uncut movies, 24 hours a day called "Home Box Office," I thought he was making it up to try and impress me or something. Computers were huge machines that took up entire rooms, though they had moved on from punch cards to tape and VCRs were still 8 years away. Anyone who has smelled the unmistakeable aroma of purple mimeograph ink knows exactly what I'm talking about. There was no CNN or FAUX News; no Google, Facebook or Twitter (words which actually had entirely different associations, then). No smartphones, tablets or laptops. Hell, there weren't even faxes. The Olympics were tape-delayed even then, but there was no way to spoil the results. I didn't know that gay people even existed at 10. I didn't even know that I was one of them because I had no real frame of reference for what I felt.
So, now onto to my first crush on a boy. Or rather, I should say: a fictional boy. Back when there were far less than than 500 channels, one's after school TV choices were limited. Channel 10 (at the time, CBS) had Gene London, a live studio show that I never really cared for. Channel 6 (ABC) had "Pixanne," who played cartoons, but was really for younger kids. VHF Channel 48 had "Bozo"* and classic Warner Brothers' Looney Tunes; Hannah Barbera and MGM cartoons: Bugs; Daffy; Elmer; Snagglepuss; Doggie Daddy; Quick Draw McGraw and Tom and Jerry. But VHF channel 17 had Wee Willy Webber, the go-to guy for anime and kaiju (not that those terms were even known here, then) shows. "Ultraman;" "Gigantor;" "Astro Boy;" "Kimba, the White Lion" and "Speed Racer."
Young Uncle P loved all of these shows and I knew and loved all the characters. But then... there was a special Two Part "Speed Racer" where Speed and Racer X (secretly Speed's supposedly dead brother) are in race through a South American rain forest (don't ask me why, I don't remember). What I do remember is at the end of Part I, Speed crashed the Mach Five and had to make his way through the jungle in a torn shirt. Then, in Part II, Speed's shirt had literally disintegrated and he was shirtless. And I... well, I wanted to be in that animated jungle helping cartoon Speed (and maybe even kissing his boo-boos). Again, at the time, I had no idea what those feelings meant. But that episode has stuck with me all these years, though it wasn't until much later that I managed to put those particular pieces together in a very "Aha!" kind of moment.
The summer before high school was when I knew for sure and it was my then best friend who helped me figure it out. It was my high school Theatre and Accelerated English teacher (a lovely and brilliant man who has created the top-rated high school theatre program in the country) who was the first adult to recognize, acknowledge and tell me that it was okay to be gay. He also taught me more about theatricality than any professor I ever had (not to disparage any of the men and women who have taught me over the years).
I was pretty much out to most of my friends in college, though I sometimes (like many of us) eased them into it by telling them I was bi-sexual, first. I came out to my mother and sister rather late in life, both of whom already knew (they always do) and both of whom still love me exactly the same as they always had before I told them. Of course, at Uncle P's age, one doesn't give a Jolly Roger what anyone thinks (except you, faithful readers - and even then... ). I've never had to actually come out at my current Day Job. People just kind of figured it out for themselves and completely accepted it and me as a package; far more interested in how I do my job than who I love.
I know that at least a few of you folks play for my team (or at least lend your athletic support). So I really am hoping for some responses to my questions, tonight.
First - gay or straight, who was your first crush? It can't be any more embarrassing than a Japanese cartoon character (and yes, Betty; Veronica; Betty and Wilma count, but so does Racer X).
Second - When did you know for certain that you were gay or straight?
Third and Fourth - If you are LGBT, when did you come out and how has your life gotten better (or - though I hope not - worse) since you did?
Please leave your answers in the comments! Meanwhile, if you are reading this and still struggling with coming out, or want to know how much coming out is a good thing, please watch this (via):
More, anon.
Prospero
*One day I MUST relate the story of my sister and I appearing on "Bozo" - Uncle P's Television Debut!
Way back in 1997, Disney angered the population of an entire country when it released the animated musical Hercules. The Greeks complained that the film reduced the classic mythological hero to a buffoonish caricature. Really? Where were they when handsome American body-builder and 'actor ' Steve Reeves was making his living in terrible 1960's Italian films about the same character? And where was the uproar when Austrian strongman (and future Governator) Arnold Schwarzenegger played the role for laughs in 1969's Hercules in New York? And then there was the All-American Hercules; Kevin Sorbo in Sam Raimi's sarcastically homoerotic "Hercules: The Legendary Adventures," which ran on American cable from 1995 to 1999. I don't remember any Greeks protesting that show.
So, I have to wonder: what will the Greeks think of former pro-wrestler turned family-film-star, Samoan behemoth Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson as their iconic hero? Literally dozens of industry sites are reporting that Johnson - currently on screen in the critically derided 3D actioner Journey 2: The Mysterious Island - is in talks to play the Greek demigod in director Brett Ratner's adaptation of Steve Moore's darkish graphic novel, 'Hercules: The Thracian Wars.'
I like Johnson. He's personable, attractive and has a rather amazing physique. He's been in both bad (Tooth Fairy) and fairly decent (The Rundown) films. On talk shows like 'Ellen,' Johnson comes across as a bright, funny, dedicated family man who wants to make movies his kids can watch. Of course, it's going to take lots and lots of Dermablend (or very expensive CGI) to cover those traditional Samoan (and Texan) tattoos. And Uncle P (among millions of gals and guys) would certainly not kick him out of bed for eating crackers.
Of course, the Greeks have other things to worry about these days, though I can't imagine they're going to happy with a Samoan actor playing a Grecian icon, given their response to the Disney film.
As for me, my first experience with the character was the 1960's cartoon (I'm old, remember?) "The Mighty Hercules," in which Hercules resembled Superman and his best friend was a fey satyr named Newt (no relation to the current Repugnican candidate).
Ancient Greek warriors were often paired with their male lovers; the idea being that they would look out for and protect one another. It's a strategy that worked for thousands of years. While there is nothing in classic Greek mythology to suggest Hercules had such a pairing, I certainly wouldn't mind being paired with Johnson in war or peace... I'm just saying.
Tomorrow is Q's 50th Birthday. I've been friends with the loveliest, most gracious woman I know for almost 30 years! I've only known my own family members, longer. Though I did meet her husband Dale when we were both teenagers. I acted at his father's Dinner Theatre the summer I turned 17. It was my first paid acting gig - $500 for the entire run. I thought I was on my way. The show was awful, but Dale and company introduced me to Rocky Horror that summer, and I found out that it was starting to be okay to let your freak flag fly. Then there was a very long gap before I saw Dale again, in 1995 (which is another story about directing he and Q as Benedick and Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing, during which they fell hopelessly in love....).
In the meantime, I'd done a whole lot of stuff, including meeting Q in an Acting class in 1981. But it wouldn't be until later that year when I was stage-managing a production of The Heiress, in which she had the lead, that we truly bonded over a long night of conversation which included quotes from every single Little Rascalsmoment my sister and I loved so much. I knew we would be friends for a very, very long time, that very night (which also is another long story involving my car getting broken into and sleeping in my friend Deb's bed, several weeks before I ever met her).
There has rarely been a major event in either of our lives which Q and I have not shared. She's probably the only person with whom I've seen more movies than my sister. She's undoubtedly the best actress I've ever been privileged to direct on more than one occasion, though I wish we would find something to act together in, already - before one of us kicks. We've held each other while we cried, we've laughed together a whole lot, and even had our disagreements. But that's what friends, do.
So, what's the point, Uncle P? Well, I'll tell you.
Today, Q & Dale hosted a movie party at the historic County Theater in Doylestown, PA. they could have up to 150 guests (there were a good 60 or so), all the popcorn we could eat and the movie of her choice, as long as it was commercially available on DVD. Q struggled with what to choose (Bringing Up Baby was on the list, which pleased yours truly to no end) but she kept it a well-guarded secret. Finally today at 1:00, after a very funny Betty Boop cartoon:
It has been years since I've seen Casablanca, and I'd never seen it on a big screen. And I think the the thing that surprised me the most, was that I'd forgotten how funny it could be. Bogart has some of the best snappy comebacks, ever. And I'd forgotten how in every closeup, Bergman's eyes are brimming with liquid, as though they might spill over at any moment and drown you in her beauty. I'd forgotten how small a role Peter Lorre actually has, and how terrific Claude Rains is as the pragmatically corrupt Captain Renault or that Renault's uniform changes as he changes alliances. Small moments, like those created by S.K. Sakall as Maitre d' Carl; Dooley Wilson as Sam and Curt Bois as the Pickpocket, are what make Rick's Cafe Americain a real place. Writers Julius & Phillip Epstein and Howard Koch were able to turn around a rather unsuccessful stage play called Everybody Comes to Rick's and with director Michael Curtiz, create what many argue is the Best Movie Ever Made. And I'm so happy that Q helped remind me why that is.
Yes, I know I promised my review of "Ugly Americans," but I wasn't expected to bowled over today by a 68 year-old movie that I haven't seen in probably 10 years. It's coming.
How on Earth did I never hear of Dutch "Bear Band" Bearforce1? Apparently formed two years ago as a Boy Band parody, their Disco medley was a target of YouTube parodies which escaped my gaydar (which has proven far from infallible) somehow.
Sadly, my first introduction to them is in the announcement of their break-up. TowleRoad has the full story from Bearotic (may be NSFW), along with photos and two other videos from the Hirsute Hustlers, as well a few of those parodies, here. I've posted their eponymous first* single, below.
Now you may well be asking yourself why I put a picture of Yogi and Boo-Boo, rather than a picture of Bearforce1. Honestly, after you see the clip, you'll realize how gay this picture is. A chubby Bear and his Cub traipsing through the forest, fruit floating in the air and that dirty smile on Boo-Boo's face say it all. To quote Jack MacFarland, "Does a Bear have anonymous sex in the woods?"
* I originally typed the word 'first' as 'fist,' which upon proof-reading, would still be somewhat appropriate...
Ouch! Sorry - I was possessed by the spirit of Stephen Rader, for a moment.
This post was almost entitled "...an' she Black." And I will tell you why in a moment.
My sister, who lives just outside of Tampa, is a self-described "Disney Dork." She loves all things Disney; especially weird, behind-the-scenes stuff (to which I must admit a fondness of my own). I sent her a link to an NYT story about how Disney is displaying rare and long-unseen artifacts at what they hope will be their ComicCon, the D23 Expo, and she writes back how she's been reading about it for months on the official Disney Newsletter she gets. Then I found out that a Facebook friend (and one-time castmate) is attending said Expo and Facebooking about seeing Betty White and Robin Williams. Betty Effing White, ya'll! Who doesn't love Betty White? And you won't see BFW at ComicCon, I'll promise you that.
Anyway, it all seemed rather synchronicitous that just Saturday, a friend related an amusing story about Whoopi Goldberg on "The View"* from Disney World. She was introducing a clip from this movie:
Ms. Goldberg, whom I love and admire as both a performer and a human being, finished her intro with the words: "...an' she Black!" which just seemed so silly and superfluous and completely contrived. And please don't get me wrong, it's high time Disney had an African American Princess (though I have other issues with the whole Princess thing...), but it seems to me that the way to make it work is not to make a big deal out of it. Big deals shouldn't have to be made about social progress. Social progress should speak for itself and no one should have to say "Look at what a progressive inclusionist I am!" But I digress.
* In full disclosure and further Mouse-influenced programming, "The View" appears on the Disney-owned ABC television network.
To complete the cycle, this morning I was trolling my usual sites and I came upon a clip from an animator who was better and more creative than Walt would ever be, Max Fleischer. The clip (I believe it was here) was linked because it features a vocal performance from the late, great Cab Calloway. It caught my eye because of the subject matter. Four years before Disney made his masterpiece, Fleischer gave Betty Boop the lead in his version of "Snow White." Watch it here. You can see why Danny Elfman and the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo (link may be NSFW) loved Fleischer's work. Just in case you are some musical Philistine or under 30, and aren't sure who or what Oingo Boingo was all about, here is their biggest hit. Oh, Kelly LeBrock, where are you and your lips, now. And yes, Dharma is his sister-in-law.
I still prefer Universal Studios, anyway. So now my question to you is: If my sister is a Disney Dork, does that make me a Universal Unicorn? Unitarian? Unionist? U2? UB40? R2D2? Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi! You're my only hope!
Please respond with your own alliterative suggestion in the "Comments" section. I always want to hear what you have to say!
