Missing My Real Life 'Big Chill' Reunion

Last February, I learned of the passing of a friend and college classmate with whom I and a group of other Theatre friends had shared some rather ridiculous, outrageous and very fun adventures in the 1980's. Of course, as many college friends do, we drifted apart after graduation. Some of us stayed in touch through an annual Christmas card or the occasional meeting. Then along came Facebook and we started finding each other again. And then Chris passed and we vowed to get together in Florida over this holiday weekend. 

Then a whole bunch of other crappy stuff happened and my mother passed, causing a major shift in my personal paradigm. I didn't want to be home alone for the holidays, so I opted to spend Christmas in Florida with my sister, making a second trip so soon after financially infeasible, much to my disappointment. These 12 or so folks and I spent a whole lot of time together doing theatre, camping and traveling and just hanging out. There was a particular rental house nearby where we tended to gather and inevitably, we'd end up around the piano, belting out show tunes, out-of-season Christmas carols and always, this song:

Of course the other song I so closely associate with this particular Band of Brothers and Sisters wasn't in our repertoire at 'The House,' but was often the last song of the night at special events:

Cheery, eh? But we were a cheery group of misfits and artists trying to figure crap out and having a hell of a time doing it! I have several very close friends from the same era, whom I see regularly. These folks I don't get to see nearly enough. These are the people with whom I shared 'escapades.' I was lucky enough to visit with the weekend's hostess at her farm while down in December. We tried Skyping earlier tonight, but I can't seem to make it work, also much to my disappointment. I shall try again, tomorrow. Honestly, I'm lucky I figured how to post this blog...

So this post is dedicated to my (mostly, slightly younger) TSC 80's Theatre Friends! I miss you guys and wish I was there with you. And while it's really apropos of nothing other than the 80's, here's a silly video that made me laugh. I hope they see it and laugh, too.

Love you guys! Missing you all so very much!

More, anon.
Prospero

Snow Day

Winter Storm Janus: Punishment for Christieism

I blame NJ Governor Chris Christie for Winter Storm Janus and the subsequent traffic snarl it caused yesterday afternoon, everywhere. If the fundies can blame me, then I get to blame some one, too. In truth though, the germ of the idea for this post came out of a Facebook status I posted last night, so forgive me if I'm repeating part of this. 

We all knew the storm was coming and the first tiny flakes started to fall yesterday morning just as I reached the last traffic-lighted intersection before arriving at the Day Job. At 11:00 I took my morning smoke break (yes, I know) and notice the plant across the way is closing, as cars begin to make a mass exodus from the lot. I came back to my desk to find an email from HR announcing we were closing at 1:00 (No lunch breaks, please). All well and good. The snow is light and easy to get off my car and I'm on my way by 1:12. It wouldn't be until 1:49 that I even got out of the town where the Day Job is located! The ride that normally takes 20 to 25 minutes and can sometimes take 40 to 50  minutes in bad weather, actually took me well over ninety minutes. And all because every other company along the I95 corridor closed at the same time and sent out millions of vehicles out onto snow-covered roads with hampered visibility. When I finally got home, after bitching about the weather and the traffic and the need to shovel, I sort gave in and resigned myself that this was happening and at least I'd gotten out early and would get a Snow Day out of it (an unusually high 2.5 this season). Which got me thinking about how I went from loving Snow Days as a kid to hating them as an adult. 

When Uncle P and his sister were kids, our Mom loved Snow Days, because it meant we got to stay home and she could play with us. We'd bundle up to go out and play in the snow; come in to warm up and dry out and have PB&Js and Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup and then go out for a another hour, until our faces were red and our noses runny. Then it was inside again where warm towels from the dryer waited for us wrap up in while leaning against the boiler's hot brick chimney. Then came hot cocoa and some sort of activity at the kitchen table. Colorforms; Shrinkey-Dinks; Spirograph; paint-by-numbers; coloring books and crayons; watercolors... always something creative to keep us busy until it was time for her to start making dinner in time for Dad to get home. 

Today, was not at all that kind of Snow Day. Sis's Sister-in-Law's son (say that three times, fast), who I've just started to get know and now refer to as my "Nephew-in-Law," came and shoveled me out today, and when I went to get money to pay him, he skipped. I texted him "No fair!" and he texted back "You're family!" Of course, when he helped me this past Monday to put the new battery in the car I'm trying to sell, I stuck a twenty in his pocket when his hands were busy and he had no choice. I'm going to make him some cookies or brownies or something. He's a good kid and I am appreciate my BIL and his family's (especially his sister and her son) kindness more and more, all the time. So, while I could have done any number of things today, including cleaning; painting; inventorying and purging the chest freezer (among others), I instead hibernated until after 10:30 and then vegged out on a "Tattoo Nightmares" marathon on Spike. And while I have 4 episodes of "Dracula" on my DVR, I'm not sure if I'm really willing to continue with the slow-moving plot that seems to have bogged it down the last few episodes I did see. 

So after dinner (the last of the chicken and hush puppies from Sunday) it was off to Netflix and the film version of a story I first read online: John Dies at the End. David Wong's online novel about time-travel; metaphysics; alternate universes; demons; mystical drugs and artificial intelligence (among other things) is transformed into a just-as-weird film by co-writer, director Don Coscarelli, creator of the equally weird Phantasm series. But this is also Coscarelli's homage to other genre directors with nods to Carpenter; Cronenberg and Raimi as told by Lovecraft. Produced by and co-starring Paul Giamatti, Coscarelli and David Wong worked on a script that both managed to connect some of the missing dots in Wong's novella, while maintaining its gonzo sensibilities. Add cuties Chase Williamson and Rob Mayes as leads Dave and John; genre fave Clancy Brown as a charismatic preacher/exorcist (he's so powerful, he can expel a demon over the phone); the often-used but rarely seen Doug Jones (Pan's Labyrinth; Hellboy); a cameo from Angus Scrimm (Phantasm's 'Tall Man') and loads of physical gross-outs and FX (plus an animated sequence that is both gross and hilarious) and you end up with a strange and often hilarious horror movie with two characters who deserve a sequel. *** (Three Out of Four Stars).

So, that was my Snow Day - some nostalgia; sleeping in; bad tattoos and a fun, weird horror movie I've been wanting to see that turned out to be actually pretty good. I may be too old for sledding and snow-forts, but you're never too old to appreciate a lazy day and then ramble on about it like anyone else really cares. 

Did you have a Snow Day today? What did you do or not do, today?

More, anon.
Prospero

Sally Starr's Dilemma

Our Gal, Sal!

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,


More, anon.
Prospero

Blasts from the Past

Ah... the 70's. They weren't all Disco, cocaine and Studio 54. The 70's were a time when Independent Cinema grew into its own and experimental "Art Rock" bands were paving the way for the Punk and New Wave movements of the 80's. 1979 saw the release of Pink Floyd's best-selling album ever, The Wall. My musical education truly began with that album. While several years earlier, Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road; the first album I actually purchased for myself and the first time I realized that Elton was probably gay.

Having grown up with a Mozart, Beethoven and Wagner-loving father and an Elvis-idolizing mother, I must thank both of my parents for letting me know that while not all music is equal, good music can be... transportive. I may have mentioned that I attended Saturday Night Fever High. I had a 3-piece cream suit and dark brown Qiana shirt for the big dance on the last night of our Senior Class trip to Orlando (the very first time I set foot inside the Magic Kingdom and several years before EPCOT existed).

Earlier today, fellow blogger and often hilarious Facebook friend Pax Romano posted that he was listening to Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of  The War of the Worlds, which immediately made me think of YES keyboardist Rick Wakeman's Journey to the Center of the Earth and finally to YES' weirdest and most amazing album, Tales from Topographic Oceans. It came in a fold-old sleeve with some amazing art by Roger Dean and each side of the 81:15 minute long concept album is just one song. I was introduced to the album by my first out-of-high-school boyfriend amid a cloud of smoke and vodka and I wasn't sure which of the four of them was more intoxicating...  Many years later, I was surprised to learn a later BF loved the album, as well. We spent a July Saturday afternoon in Provincetown with this album blaring on his Pathfinder's stereo.

If there is anything I really miss about the music industry when I was growing up and learning to love an even wider variety of musical genres, it's great album art.

Here's some awesome music from when Skrillex and Dead Mau5's parents were kids:






And here's some random bad album cover art:

A Warhol Wannabe?

No, Let ME Touch Him

Move Along. Nothing Gay to See Here

As What, a Giant Q-Tip?

Bwomb-Chicka-Wow-... Oh, Hell No!

Hope I made you smile, at least!

More, anon
Prospero

Awesome 80's Flashback

Do You Know This Man?

I spent my childhood in the 60's, my youth in the 70's and came of age in the 80's. The child of an Elvis fan mother and a Beethoven fan father, my musical taste as a kid tended toward pop-music, movie scores and musical theatre. Of course, I went to Saturday Night Fever High, where disco reigned but I not-so-secretly got sidetracked by Yes and early Genesis and experimental music. I remember bringing "Rock Lobster" to my friends, who all thought I was insane. 

In the 80's it was about electronica and dance and New Wave/Neo-Punk beats; outrageous hair and clothes; often pointed political lyrics and electronic interpretations of classics. Anything went. There were New Romantics, like Adam and the Ants; electric R&B from Herbie Hancock and Eurythmics;  electric Jazz from Thomas Dolby; feel-good synth pop from Howard Jones and sexy gay songs about orgasm from Frankie Goes to Hollywood and masturbation from Cyndi Lauper. It was mad and we thought it couldn't get better than it was right there, right then. It was the last great period of musical innovation. Almost everything today sounds the same.  And very little of it is any good.

Tonight, Tracy posted this on Facebook: "S-A-F-E-T-Y-D-A-N-C-E!" to which I immediately replied: "You can dance if you want to..." I hope you know that it goes without saying that we had to take turns finishing the damned thing. Which got me all nostalgic again. So I thought I'd just have fun and share some beloved "oldies." (Ugh! I so HATE that word). So, you can blame Tracy for the whole thing.

FYI - Thompson Twins was one of most fun concerts I've ever attended. It was their very first U.S. show in Philadelphia and they were genuinely surprised and pleased by the crowd reaction. They did two encores and my friend Deb caught some of the flowers they threw into the audience at the end.

That was good. I needed that.

By the way, do you recognize the Emo-before-it-was-called-"Emo" guy in the picture? I've already talked about him and posted one of his videos. First correct answer gets an extra wish next time they blow out their birthday candles (and no, it's not my father). Good heavens, Miss Yakimoto!

We'll talk about my re-discovery of the Beatles (which was around the same time as all of this), some other time.

More, anon.
Prospero

When Did You Know?

Go, Speed Racer, Go!

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!

They Were Hee-ere!

How on Earth did I miss the 30th Anniversary of one of the best horror movies of 1980's? I have to thank JA at My New Plaid Pants for reminding me.

Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist turned 30 yesterday. Produced by Steven Spielberg (whose fingerprints are all over it), Poltergeist  was released on the heels of the rather disappointing film adaptation of Peter Straub's terrifying novel Ghost Story with the tagline "A real Ghost Story."

The 80's were very much a decade of movies that were shared with my sister and we both have many fond memories of sitting in awe of some rather amazing films. The Empire Strikes Back; Superman II; E.T.; Gremlins; Raiders of the Lost Ark; The Color Purple; Goonies... Still, Poltergeist remains probably the only movie from the era that we have both seen enough times that we can tell you exactly what's happening on screen, just by listening to the score. 

The Freeling family lives in a very ordinary suburban development called Cuesta Verde. Steven Freeling is a successful realtor for the company that built Cuesta Verde and his wife Diane is a happy, stay-at-home mom. Their three kids (Dana, Robbie and Carol Anne) have the usual sibling relationships. The Freelings are having an in-ground pool installed, further proof that their happy lives will only get happier. One night, young Carol Anne awakens and comes into her parents' room to watch TV. Of course, this was back when many regular stations signed off at midnight, so we are left to wonder just exactly what Carol Anne is watching and who she is talking to after the broadcast ends. After a strange light pours from the TV and leaves a black mark on the bedroom wall, Carol Anne announces "They're here!" to her startled parents. Thus begins a supernatural nightmare that will eventually drive the family from their home.

The excellent cast includes Craig T. Nelson; Jobeth Williams; Beatrice Straight; Zelda Rubinstein and James Karen. The special effects were state-of-the-art at the time and still manage to hold up 30 years later. While neither of us were ever actually scared by the film, there were plenty of things that managed to creep my sister and I out. The backwards music and menacing compass in the bedroom; the slithering steak and Ryan's face peeling; the evil tree and even more evil clown doll; Diane being thrust to the ceiling; the lengthening hall and skeletal demon; the rotting corpses in the muddy swimming pool... And of course, the loads of little touches that lent an air of foreboding, like the foreshadowing disinterment of the late Tweety, the canary.

Of course, there is the rumored 'Poltergeist curse,' thanks to the untimely deaths of young Dominique Dunne ('Dana'); murdered not long after the film's release by an insanely jealous boyfriend and Heather O'Rourke (Carol Anne); who died during surgery to repair an intestinal blockage just before the second (and far inferior) sequel was released. The so-called 'curse' is also often blamed for the deaths of several actors in the film's sequels, including Will Sampson, Julian Beck and even Rubinstein, herself. Nonsense and coincidences, of course. Both Williams and Nelson went on to successful careers in TV and films; most notably Nelson on "Coach;" "The District" and "Parenthood" (as well the voice of Mr. Incredible in Pixar's brilliant superhero/spy parody The Incredibles).

Plans for an inevitable and unnecessary remake have been announced, despite the movie still being able to surprise and scare those who've never seen it before. Truth be told, all the 3D CGI in the world won't make up for the excitement and awe of seeing the original Poltergeist for the first time. They just don't make 'em like that, anymore.

If you are a housing developer, please promise me that you'll move the bodies and not just the headstones. There'll be hell to pay, otherwise.

More, anon.
Prospero

If She Weighs the Same As a Duck...

"You shall bring us... a shrubbery!"

Uncle P's sister sent me this photo today. She visits as many cake sites as I do horror and movie sites, so I don't know where she found it.  It's probably the single most epic win cake of all time. Just look at it. The Black Knight; a Knight Who Says 'Ni;' the Killer Rabbit and the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, all perfectly rendered in a cake I couldn't bear to eat, but just want to bask in its glory. This was NOT an inexpensive cake and I wish I had the money it cost just to pay some bills, let alone buy an insanely amazing custom cake. To be honest, she sent it in an email titled "awesome python cake." I was was actually expecting a picture of a snake cake. Imagine my delight at being so wrong.

But this post isn't really about cake. Nor is it about how my sister and I communicate, because she knew this particular cake, in conjunction with her recent guest post, would get me to a topic I don't think I've ever fully addressed: Monty Python Movies. Oh, I may have made passing comments or comparisons or minor references here and there. But I don't think I ever posted anything devoted solely to the British insaniacs and their influence on my personal take on life. But I'm going to talk about the movies, first. And one at a time, every now and then. Starting with favorite and ending with my least. And what better place to start with the group's first feature length film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 

Directed by the Terrys (Gilliam and Jones), and co-written by all six of them, Holy Grail is a brilliantly nonsensical take on the Arthurian legends, loaded with bad puns, repeating themes ("I'm not dead yet!") and preposterous situations in a world completely populated by morons, lunatics and cartoon monsters. Not everything works (the three-headed giant is kind of lame as is the movie's anti-climatic non-ending) but there is far more gold than pyrite in this movie and no matter how many times I've seen it or how many lines I can quote from it or how easily I can manage to work a quote into a conversation with either or both people who will get it and people who won't, it still makes me laugh like an idiot after more than 45 years. I think it's because, like Carroll, the six Pythons understood that not only was nonsense funny, it was even funnier when applied as satire.

Holy Grail covers the gamut of what every movie should include:

A Plague:



Religion:



Sex:



Logic:



"Who are you, that are so wise in the ways of science?" Genius!

Denial:



Arranged Marriage (and Musicals):



History:



(It's even funnier in Spanish!)

So many more moments and comments and quotable scenes. Too much to go on and on about. Proof that nonsense can be as funny to adults as it is to kids, especially when applied so pointedly satirical, Monty Python and the Holy Grail not only cemented the troupe's cult status (especially here in the U.S.*) but paved the way for more daring satire (if not always as successfully) in their future films.

If you don't know Python or (like many) think you hate Python, you may want to start with the Broadway Cast recording of "Spamalot," Eric Idle's musical adaptation. Yes, many things are very different from the movie and it's funnier of you know and love the movie but it's as gentle an intro to Python as you can get. Then watch Holy Grail.

Of course, the movie is also one of several very special shared movie experiences for Sis and I. And to some extent, Dad (who swears that at the matinee he attended alone, a very confused old lady got up and left after the first twenty minutes). One of the many things that bond my sister and I so closely are the movies we saw together as kids. I like to think I taught her how to watch movies. I know she helped me to remember how do that and still enjoy them. That and the fact that she loves nonsense as much as I do, helps.

*I know plenty of Brits who don't get Python or our obsession for them. Their loss.

More, anon. 

Prospero

The Saddest Thing I'll Post This Week

I often joke that I went to "Saturday Night Fever High." In the mid-70's, one of TV's hottest sitcoms was "Welcome Back, Kotter" about a teacher (comedian Gabe Kaplan) who comes back to teach remedial ed in the Brooklyn high school from which he'd graduated. The remedial students he taught were referred to as the 'Sweat Hogs.' Their bad-attitudes and hijinks were source of most of the show's plots. The kids did something bad (though not really, especially by today's standards) and Mr. Kotter would teach them a valuable life-lesson around what they had done. 

And while John Travolta's Vinnie Barbarino was the breakout character, I was always much more attracted to Robert Heyges' Juan Epstein, a Puerto Rican Jew who always managed to have a forged note signed 'Epstein's Mother.' Of course, I've always found darker-skinned, compact, hirsute men attractive. Heyges, at the time in his mid-20s, certainly filled the bill. While Travolta may have gone on to become a super star, thanks in part to his turns in films such as Carrie; Saturday Night Fever; Grease; Face-Off; Pulp Fiction and Hairspray, Heyges continued to work in TV and film (including a gig on "Cagney and Lacey") until his official retirement in 2002.

Heyges passed away today at the far-too-young age of 60, of an apparent heart-attack. And while officially retired, he was still reportedly involved in promoting local arts projects in his native New Jersey.

Nothing makes Uncle P feel older than hearing news like this. While it only ran for four seasons on ABC, "Welcome Back, Kotter" still holds a place in my heart as one the shows that defined my own high school experience. And Heyges' Epstein will always hold a place in my heart as one of my teenage crushes. 

With his gap-toothed grin, crazy afro and very hairy chest, Hegyes managed to push all the right buttons with me. Of course, with the right wig, I can see D playing the part of Epstein in a stage musical based on the show. And while I'm already too old to play Kotter, I might get away with playing Principal Woodman. 

RIP, Robert Heyges. Another part of my youth slips away... sigh...

More, anon.
Prospero

"Jaws," We Hardly Knew Ye

Among the many things Uncle P loves are theme parks, amusement piers, fairs and carnivals. I must admit that many of my happiest memories involve those things. I adore an amazing roller-coaster; love being scared and surprised and just completely dig the ambiance associated with all of them. It all goes back to spending my youthful summer Sundays in Seaside Heights (before it was a dump) and the once amazing NJ State Fair, when it was still at the Trenton Fairgrounds (now the site of the highly recommended Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ). It probably goes back to the kiddie rides at Cadwalader Park, where you could actually feed live deer and pitiful bears in pits, and walk through the stinkiest "Monkey House" on the planet. 

Anyway, my absolute favorite theme park in the world is Universal Studios, Orlando. Of course, it is no wonder that the combination of two of my favorite things in the world would lead to yet another favorite. I've been there three times. Once with K, once with my sister and BIL, and again with sis, BIL and a friend of sis's. Two of my three visits were during "Halloween Horror Nights." Trust me, no other theme park can come close to Universal when it comes to Halloween. I have not been since they transformed one of their Islands of Wonder into "Harry Potter and the Grab for Your Wallet." I priced tickets while visiting sis last April. On that particular day, a one-day two-park pass was outrageously expensive. We chose not to visit.

Still, there are things I very much love about the original Universal Studios, Orlando. The first time I visited with K, I was blown away by "King Kong: The Escape;" "E.T. Adventure;" "The Alfred Hitchcock Experience;" "Earthquake;" "Twister" and, best of all, "Jaws: The Ride." Set up on small lake and surrounded by a fake but faithful village of Amity, "Jaws: The Ride" was both super-corny and super-fun. I say "was," because Universal has 'retired' the attraction to make way for something new. Disney has already announced an "Avatar" themed attraction, so what might Universal have up their sleeves? Personally, I'm hoping for an Aliens/Prometheus coaster of some kind. 

I've ridden "Jaws: The Ride" four or five times, and enjoyed it every single time. The queue was entertained by a silly (and sometimes repetitive, depending on the line) "local" newscast and the attention to detail was superb. Also fun was the combination of corny jokes made by the "guides," the surprise attacks and the explosions, which often felt a little too close for comfort and the cheers riders gave themselves at the end for having survived. 

I hope that whatever they are planning for the space is done by my next trip to Florida. It's been too long and I am itching for that Universal experience. I'm not particularly sad to see this ride go, but instead excited to see what takes its place.

More, anon.
Prospero

This Is Halloween?

For all intents and purposes, Halloween 2011 is over. And while the party at the day job was a success (my buddy Mia won "Best Costume" as Flo from the Progressive Insurance commercials and the food was amazing), I came home to give out candy to a measly 11 Trick-or-Treaters. 11.  The best costume I saw tonight was a young Lady Gaga. The worst was an adorable store-bought Care Bear toddler. I didn't see a single vampire, mummy or zombie.

When Uncle P was a child (many, many moons ago) we would leave the house at 5:30, stop home to dump our filled-to-the-brim (or too-heavy-to-carry-anymore) pillowcases and head out until 9:30 (10:30 on a weekend). Just about every house gave out candy and the streets were filled with hundreds of costumed kids. These days, hardly anyone actually Trick-or-Treats. Nervous parents keep their kids home or limit them to only knocking on doors of people they know or force them to attend lame parties. Sadly, urban legends, Boy Scout leaders and Catholic priests have ruined Samhain for millions of sweet-toothed ghouls and ghosties.

Likewise, slutty co-eds and horny gay boys have sexualized the holiday into a Bacchanal of drunken frat parties and exposed nipples. 

Or maybe I'm just getting old.

In either event, here's the trailer for a new French horror movie called Livid. And for those of you who don't read French: Yes, it is a very bad idea to break into a vampire's house.

I'll be back tomorrow with my re-cap of  the most recent episode of "The Walking Dead" and then it's on to Turkey Month, highlighting some of the worst Hollywood has to offer. I hope your Halloween was more fun than mine.

More, anon.
Prospero

Try to Remember...

That's Uncle P on the right, as Claudius (conspiring with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern) in a 1982 college production of Hamlet. It was the first Shakespearean role I'd ever played, and frankly, I was terrified. The director, a professor I both loved and feared, was prescient enough to cast the leads the previous spring, working with with us all summer long to prepare for the late September production.

Every year at this time, I grow a bit nostalgic for this particular production. I made life-long friends among some of the cast; learned how to read, interpret and perform the works of Shakespeare and discovered the full range of my voice, all in one show. It was truly one of those life-altering experiences.

Oh, there have been dozens upon dozens of shows, since. There have been roles I have both loved (Dysart in Equus; the Major-General in The Pirates of Penzance; Danforth in The Crucible; Roate in Wait Until Dark and Sweeney in Sweeney Todd, among many) and hated. There have also been many plays that I have directed that made me fall in love with theatre over and over again. Still, there is something about this particular production at this particular time in my life, that resonates with me almost 30 years later. I got my ear pierced accompanied by two members of the cast (and later slept with one of them - TMI, I know...). I was introduced to Devo by none other than Hamlet himself (Thanks, Steve!) and got a perm because I saw Derek Jacobi's perm in the same role on PBS. I discovered New Wave dancing at City Gardens (where I was served drinks by none other than the future Jon Stewart); found out that the Beatles were amazing and played countless games of "Password" at cast parties.

I've since gone on to play many Shakespearean characters and direct three of his plays. But it is this production of Hamlet and that year of self-discovery that will always occupy a special place in my heart. And for that, I will always be grateful. It was the September when I was a tender and callous fellow, indeed.

Oh, Jerry -- you are missed.

More, anon.
Prospero

Forgotten Gems: "The Monkey King"

Wow. It's been a very long time since I've done a 'Forgotten Gems' post. I think I need to do more. So here's one...

 Journey to the West is considered one of the 4 Great Novels of Chinese literature. Written by Wu Cheng'en in the 1590's, the 100-chapter story details a Buddhist monk's pilgrimage from China to India. The first 7 chapters tell the story of Sun Wu Kong, a monkey who comes to learn the way of Tao. Heady stuff for a children's movie. But in 1965, Shanghai Animation Film Studios simplified the story to its basest elements and produced Havoc in Heaven (aka The Monkey King). 

I first remember seeing this film sometime around 1968 or so (remember kids, Uncle P is old) in the 'cafetorium' at Clara Barton Elementary School. I immediately fell in love with it. And while I know I saw it several times during my childhood, it's probably been 35 years or more since I saw it last. A precursor to Japanese Anime, The Monkey King's Taoist message was well beyond my K through 5 ken, but its basic tale of bravery and friendship struck a chord in my developing sensibilities and I count it as one of the major influences of my youth. 

The animation may be crude by today's standards, but that's not the point. Its one of the movies (among many) that made me love movies and memories of it evoke both nostalgia for a simpler time and a curiosity about the filmmaking process that never went away. Havoc in Heaven is available in a subtitled version (though I know the version I saw as a child was dubbed) on YouTube in 14 parts. As far as I know, there is no DVD or even VHS version available. Here is a Part One of the subtitled version:

I know I'll be spending at least some of my upcoming weekend watching the other 13 parts on YouTube. There have been several adaptations of this story, on film and in print, but this is the one that left an impression on my impressionable youth...

What forgotten gems do you love?

More, anon.
Prospero

That's Sick!

I sent the image on your right (via) to my sister as soon as I saw it. It made her laugh as much as it did me. Of course, if you haven't figured it out by now, Uncle P has a rather macabre sense of humor, one of the many things I have in common with my baby sister.

Many years ago, when Uncle P was a High School Junior, the keepers of a local historic mansion were looking for ways to raise funds for restoration, and since the place had a reputation for being haunted, they decided one October to have a "Haunted House" tour. They recruited local H.S. Drama Club members to take part in designing, executing and staffing the event. 

Of course, you know I had to not only participate, but head my school's efforts (I was already directing at age 16). One of two rooms my school did was a "Nursery," complete with a spike-canopied crib, baby doll-limbed mobile and assorted evil toys. At the time, one of the "hot" toys was a doll called "Baby Alive." My sister had one. It ate, drank, peed and pooped. Our version was called "Baby A-Dead,"* and if I remember correctly, it drank blood from a bottle. And if I also remember correctly (maybe Sis can corroborate), the Nursery was voted "Most Disturbing Room" that first year. She of course, was one of the "babies" in the nursery, though she was probably 11 or 12 at the time. I went on to participate in the mansion's follow-up Christmas House (playing Joseph, of all things) as well as its second (and sadly, last) Haunted House. 

They still hold fundraisers there, though much of the mansion has been restored. There's still an annual  spring Faire and a Christmas event. I think they must be working on the third or fourth floor, by now. It's been many, many years since I have visited. Still, were they ever to do a Haunted House event again, I imagine the image above would certainly be fodder for a kitchen design by Yours Truly. And my sister would probably be happy to make evil-looking cakes as part of it. She already has told me she laughed aloud when I sent her the above image in an email, though she admitted she was glad she had gone in to work early enough that no one was around to hear her do so.

Local readers and Facebook friends know exactly what mansion I have been referring to, but I will leave it up to the rest of you to figure it out on your own (and clues can be found throughout my past posts, if you care to find them). Needless to say, I have moved on from my early directing and fund-raising efforts to those issues more immediately important me to me and the folks I care about. But I still live very nearby that mansion, and I just might have to stop by one day and see what progress has been made over 30 years or so.

More, anon,

Prospero

* Not the actual image.