MY FAIR DEBUTANTE

Just watched MY FAIR LADY, I think, for the first time, that is, straight through. And the stars and the Cecil Beaton's settings are really marvelous. But the story is inteeeerrrrrminable. Amazing what capacity for time and space we had once upon a time. It was the same when I watched an old episode of the David Frost TV show from the 70s. There they were, Yvonne de Carlo and Alexis Smith, telling long stories in complete sentences. And because even I have fallen in step with our clipped modern tempo, I watched with apprehension afloat, thinking someone was not going to be able to get out of the sentence or the story they were telling.

Only flaw with MFL is the obvious, jarring way Marni Nixon comes on whenever Audrey sings. She looks lovely and acts the hell out of the part. But, ah, if only Jack Warner had taken a chance on Julie Andrews, the movie would have gotten double acting Oscar honors. What a joke that was on him when she won the award that night for MARY POPPINS. I remember Harrison accepting his award and thanking his "two Fair Ladies."

My darling THE RELUCTANT DEBUTANTE has just come on TCM. That is another rare bird they don't hatch any more. True, honest to goodness cool wit and style in every square of inch of it, from the writing to the high-comedy acting, to Vincente Minnelli's razor sharp direction, to ultra lux Pierre Balmain clothes for Kay Kendall. And Kay Kendall. The only funny woman in the movies who was also a great beauty, with great sweetness and a kind of goodness that permeated her every move. Even "the kids," John Saxon and Sandra Dee pick up on the suave signals and do themselves proud. And what a sexy man was John Saxon. He really smolders in this.'

Some happy/not so happy endings from this cast. Kay Kendall was already fighting lukemia and she died a few short years later. Lansbury was yet to do many more years of yeoman's work before she broke out of the supporting mold and became an overnight Broadway star when she opened in MAME. Sandra Dee became an alcoholic and a recluse toward the end of her life. Rex Harrison kept on a rich and rewarding career till very late, till the very end of life. I don't know what became of John Saxon, but something tells me he married Well and lives in a temperate climate with servants.

I met Sandra Dee once in the mid 70s when she was appearing in something like AGATHA SUE, I LOVE YOU! (or was it THE PAISLEY CONVERTIBLE?) at a dinner theatre in Chicago. This was the beginning of the end of her A-list fame and the start of a retreat from the world. I met Harrison signing autographs outside a Broadway theatre where I had just seen him and Stewart Granger and Glynnis Johns in THE CIRCLE, a Somerset Maugham play that you thought every other minute was going to give a seizure of ecstasy because it was so exquisitely drenched in a self-assured elegance i knew we were probably watching for the last time. And I think we did.

THE HOURS

Maybe 300 used DVDs at the used books store, and the only one I could take home was THE HOURS. Which I already have in NY. But which seemed like just the right dish for the state of mental and physical exhaustion I was in. And it was. Not as disturbing as I remember my first viewing of it in a NY theatre, where I was so worn out from the upheaval that I had to stay in my seat long after the closing credits ended. I remember leaving the theatre, going down the escalators, knees buckling. Well, nothing like that on this viewing. But it's still a deeply disturbing and very beautiful movie.

I had forgotten that the Julianne Moore character is pregnant and that it's (one of) the reason for her wanting to do away with herself. I had forgotten that all 3 women kiss other women in each of their segments, all out a desperate and nearly unimaginable loneliness. I had forgotten that food plays such an important role in all 3 segments. I had forgotten David Hare's script is so precise, a word that doesn't readily come to mind when I think of David Hare. I should like to read Michael Cunningham's book again very soon, see how it was re-stiched for the movies.

I should like to read MRS. DALLAWAY, or rather, try to read MRS. DALLAWAY again. I tried several years back and didn't get very far. But in the special features of the DVD of THE HOURS, Michael Cunningham says that the book is "an ordinary day in the life of an ordinary person as told by a genius. And at the end of the book you realize that everything you need to know about human life is contained in any day of anyone's life."

OSCARS 2008 THOUGHTS

• All those awards for NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, and it's the same movie the Coen brothers made 12 years ago, the one called FARGO. Meanwhile, a really human, great piece of filmmaking, ATONEMENT, barely gets a nod for original soundtrack.

• Did Marion Cotillard have a speech prepared at all? Why can't the non-English speaking contenders know enough to be ready with a few words? Or in her case, at least honor Piaf for inspiring the movie and her performance. "You rock my life" wasn't quite it.

• I'm definitely flat out of the loop. I didn't know who 75% of the presenters were.

• All the women were dressed in the best of taste, makeup and jewelry, head to toe. But they were all going strapless and looked like they were dressed by one person. The only women whose clothes told you something about themselves were Tilda Swinton and JUNO's writer Diablo Cody, a name obviously meant to be lived up to. Her outfit turned out to be by Dior. But Dior-on-acid compared to Cameron Diaz's baby-pink dream and demure Dior. Diablo took one for a moment in time, back to the old Cher appearances, when one could never guess what she'd turn up in. Diablo's coda as she was finally swept off the stage by emotion was a thanks to her family for loving her exactly the way she is. Boy, was I was jealous.

• The Best Song FALLING SLOWLY is made up of 4 notes. But I was bored even before the granola couple started. Folkies are back, if this couple is any example of it. Damn dressing for the occasion or even combing your hair. Do I sound like my parents now? Anyway, all the songs were dreary, even the one with a gospel beat. Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen, Jimmy McHugh, I could hear you all collectively turning in your graves.

• There's usually one real and poignant moment in the show every year. Tonight it was Javier Bardem, lapsing into Spanish and dedicating his award to his mother (in the audience) and family and to Spain. There was a third instance of winners thanking parents, Daniel Day Lewis and the composer of ATONEMENT did as well.

• Another moment came later when a 98 year old production designer received a special award and gave a slow, measured speech, which probably made for the only suspense in the whole evening. We're really too conditioned by too many soundbites these days to know how to deal with complete sentences.

• Julie Christy, the one bona-fide Star in the room, and all she did was seat in the audience. But maybe she declined participation. The red carpet man obviously didn't know his ass from his elbow and spent the12 second segment on Sara Polley, ignoring Julie Christy, looking pleasant and composed, like she was waiting to get a ride home after the interview was over.

• No Legends presenting or receiving tonight. No Loretta Young or Olivia de Havilland. I suspect, with a heavy heart, that there are none left. Well, there's always Cyd Charisse, and she still looks sensational. Good thing Debohra Kerr got her Oscar just in time.

• It would have been too much to expect that either Ruby Dee or Hal Holbrook would win. But these are the dark horses (no offense, Ruby) that sometimes come through when the vote between the usual suspects get split.

• Passe thought it may be in 2008, it was still a feel-good moment when Scott Rudin thanked his partner and called him "honey" in front of a billion people.

BESS FLOWERS: EXTRA SPECIAL HOLLYWOOD EXTRA

TCM ROCKS

Thank god for Turner Classic Movies. It's my harbor in the storm. All that's wrong with life is swept away by the magic of the great movies of the past, uncut and commercial free, as they like to brag. It's not just what they program, but the way the movies are connected by an unceassing parade of bios, shorts, trailers and interviews. It's not a network, it's a universe. It lives in the past and it makes it gloriously alive. Now, if I could only learn how to do that.

Tonight I tuned in the middle of I REMEMBER MAMA, a great movie, so beautifully directed by George Stevens. I remember seeing this in a revival house in San Francisco, where the film takes place, with Michael Strong. We loved it so. We laughed so hard when Ellen Corby blurts out "The mail must go through!" when she meant "The show must go on!"

LOST AND FOUND

"Sometimes all I want is for someone to tell me that eveything is going to be all right. I want someone to tell me this over and over again in a sweet but firm voice, the way you would tell it to a child crying in the dark after a nightmare about a hairy green monster under the bed. I want someone to tell me this often enough to banish my doubts and make me believe it."
-- Diane Schemperlen, OUR LADY OF THE LOST AND FOUND.

This novel is about a writer who one day, quite unexpectedly gets a visit from the Virgin Mary. Mary shows up at her front door, not levitating and radiating a glow of stars off her head, but wearing a trench coat, white running shoes, a large leather purse and holding the extended metal handle of a small suitcase on wheels. I need a place to stay for a week, she says, I am so tired, I need a break. The writer is no more startled than if an appealing stranger had made the request. And gut instinct tells her this stranger is not making things up.

Mary and the writer settle down to a cozy, girly time, making lunch together (Mary insists on doing the dishes,) driving to the mall (where she makes a withdrawal at the ATM) and spending evenings with Mary sharing deetails of her visitations over the centuries in the same nostalgic tone one would use to describe a lifetime of Carnival cruises.

The writer is motivated by this extraordinary visit to look into the history of the Saints on her own. Her descriptions (Ms. Schemperlen's, that is) are also couched in gossipy, off the cuff, page-turning style. Sandwiched along the way, are the writer's introspective takes on her own issues with doubt and faith, faith and reason, faith and fear and despair. And wether they are really opposites or can one make better sense of life if we accept them as a package deal.

There's another quote I liked, which brings up my own doubts and inconsistancies about embracing the Buddhhist's way of disregarding anything but the present moment, of shoving aside all projections of past and future. I couldn't have said it better:

"Sometimes I feel completely defeated by the daily struggle of trying to understand, of trying to be mature, responsible, happy, and good. Sometimes I long to throw off the yoke of reason, to crawl out from under what Cervantes called 'the melancholy burden of sanity.' Sometimes I want to get out of the way, stop trying so hard, and just let things happen."

THEY BROKE THE MOLD AFTER THELMA RITTER

THE ONE AND ONLY THELMA RITTER

The Edmonton Film Society showed "All About Eve," which I could probably get up and recite playing all the parts from beginning to end. Again, I'm thrown into a space with people past their 60s and I think "ah, an older crowd," like I'm Gregg Kinear or something. I don't relate to "older people" as peers. I don't know if that's denial or I just don't see myself reflected in the way they come across. All that aside, it was great fun to watch "Eve" with an audience, less sophisticated than NY, and notice what they found funny and what went straight over their heads, like my favorite line "If she can act she may not be bad. And she looks like she could burn down a plantation."

As always, the great Thelma Ritter makes everyone's scenes shine. And since this is the second time in two entries that she's come up, I think it's good that I post a picture of the old girl.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING DORIAN

I've been putting off having a blog for so long, I wish I'd done it a year ago when I moved here from New York City. Here is Edmonton in Alberta, Canada. There was a LOT to post and, maybe, I can create a "Flashback" section here where I'll publish copies of my emails to others during that time, a kind of retro diary.

But that was then, and now it's a rainy Saturday night and I'm waiting for laundry to dry while a piece of salmon is in the oven and from the periphery I watch parts of "The Picture of Dorian Grey" on TCM.

TCM is one of the reasons I continue to keep in one piece while living here. It was the only TV I watched in NY, and now it provides comfort, continuity and entertainment I can't get anywhere else. I remember coming home one miserable day when I felt like a cranky, lonely puppy and turning on TCM to watch THE VERY START of "The Model and the Marriage Broker," one of my favorite all-time movies, the only time the great Thelma Ritter had a featured role. Who needs crack?

Tonight TCM was running an Oscar Wilde programme (sorry, the spelling conventions up here have gotten to me) and I watched parts of "The Importance of Being Earnest" and "An Ideal Husband." "Earnest" is always a treat because Edith Evans and Margaret Rutterford never fail to make me laugh out loud -- and this is the rarest thing that a movie can do for me. "Husband" plays on the heavy-handed side. Only fun is watching Paulette Goddard negotiate the demanding Cecil Beaton gowns.

Laundry must be dry by now. Salmon almost done. What to do first, what to do?