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Posts Tagged ‘movies’

SCREENPLAYS, TELEPLAYS, RADIO PLAYS

BOOKWORM! (short horror-comedy, 1988)
(co-written with Al Hunter)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-FQ

EXTRA (short comedy, 1987)
(conceived by Zvi Arav, based on a short story by Ephraim Kishon)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-Gf

MUDDY
1983 (short comedy. Synopsis: A spoof of Paddy Chayefsky’s Marty, wherein (ugly) boy meets (homely) girl)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-Ha

REAL TO REEL
1983 (short comic radio play. Synopsis: Unscrupulous TV reporter covers a fire)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-HL

THE SECOND COMING OF MICHAEL ZIVITZ (screenplay treatment, dark comedy, 1983)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-KZ

SEPARATING (short drama, 1983)
(adapted from John Updike short story)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-Lp

TOFU LIZARD MAMA (short comedy, 1984)
(co-written by Philip Halprin)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-1Ee
{produced 1985; directed by Philip Halprin. (watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_nHbpOaYME)

UP WITH THE JONESES
1985 (short screenplay. Synopsis: A perfect American family has its Walpurgistag)
—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-Id

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In Bloom: Marcia Gay Harden Writes a Memoir for her Mother

by David Lefkowitz

(This article was published in the Nov. 2018 issue of Long Island Woman)

 

“How is your mom doing?”

That is the central question—the one everyone who reads Marcia Gay Harden’s book, The Seasons of My Mother: A Memoir of Love, Family, and Flowers, will want to ask her. It’s also the question she considers daily.

Beverly Bushfield Harden was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and has been deteriorating, bit by bit, ever since. Watching the woman who raised her slowly disappear has turned Marcia into an advocate for Alzheimer’s research, as well as a reflective and lyrical writer as she shares her own story intertwined with her mom’s best years and later decline. In fact, Seasons was originally going to be a mother-daughter collaboration on a coffee-table volume celebrating Mrs. Harden’s mastery of ikebana, the delicate arrangements of flowers. Instead, it turned into the daughter’s autobiography, covering her years as a budding actress, her success in such projects as Miller’s Crossing, Meet Joe Black, and Pollock (Supporting Actress Oscar); the landmark original Broadway production of Angels in America; TV’s Law & Order:SVU and Code Black; her marriage and divorce from film location scout and prop master Thaddaeus Scheel, the loss of her niece and nephew in a 2004 fire, and the raising of her children as a single parent while balancing a full slate of film and television work.

And yet, we return to the simple question, “How is your mom doing?”

“I wanna say she’s the same,” replies the actress, chatting by cell phone as she is on her way to take her actress daughter, Julitta, out for a celebratory dinner on the occasion of the 14-year-old having wrapped shooting on a new Jim Carrey TV project. “I can’t say anything good about Alzheimer’s. It’s a progressive disease that has robbed her. She’s still pleasant; she’ll always be kind and pleasant. But it’s only a nod towards her tenacious spirit that she is still those things. And I’d be lying if I said, `Oh, that makes me feel comforted. At least there’s the essence of mom.’ There’s just the essence, not the actions, the communication. When you talk to a person who has Alzheimer’s at the late stage she does, it’s a fairly one-way conversation, and it’s sad.”

Asked what she wishes more people knew about the disease, Harden points to Seth Rogan’s “Hilarity for Charity” organization and his Senate testimony before the Senate four years ago. “He said, `First you think—not that Alzheimer’s is charming, but it’s small.’ You think, `Ehh, they forget where they put their keys. They forgot a couple of faces.’ But the diagnosis is really like an avalanche. It’s a snowball tumbling down the hill creating devastation in its path.”

That said, Harden agrees with many experts that lifestyle choices can affect or impede the onset of dementia. “From what I understand from the research, they’re the common-sense things: exercise to the point that you sweat, eat well, and avoid or cut out sugar and carbohydrates—which has completely changed the line-up of my pantry!” she laughs.

More seriously, the actress, though acknowledging the complicated nature of Alzheimer’s and the failure of drugs to help, ascribes to the “gut-brain connection” theory, which again points to lifestyle: “There’s a reason some call the disease `Diabetes 3,’” she notes. “We need less inflammation in our bodies and, therefore, less in the brain. Initially, people talked about tau and tangles, but we all have tangles. Something’s blocking the ability to empty them. And at this point, I’ll do whatever I can to stave it off, because as I watch what happened to my mother and to other people, `exercise’ for them is playing with scarves, so to speak, and they completely lose the ability to control their bodily functions. So anything we can do, we should do.”

Which, of course, leads her to call for more research—especially in relation to Alzheimer’s and women: “Why are two-thirds of the people getting it women? Maybe if we study women, we can understand what occurs hormonally at a certain age. Anything we can study, we need to study to find a cure.”

Granted, unlike other grown children faced with similar parental health crises, Harden’s acting success has allowed her, for the time being, to keep her mother at home rather than in a facility. Even so, coordinating caregiving is always a challenge. “I have two sisters who go down and visit,” Harden explains. “My brother visits occasionally, and I visit when I can.”

All three siblings have read Harden’s book, “respect it, and are thrilled that it’s this love story to our mother,” Harden adds, “but they do they different responses and don’t always remember things the same way I do. We’ve had a few conversations on the order of `no, that wasn’t the car she drove’ or `mom would never have liked that.’ And I’ve just had to say that I understand we all have different stories and memories. I mean, when police interview people who’ve witnessed a crime, there are 15 different perspectives. It’s the same way in a family. But my family is proud of it and hopes the book will make a difference in Alzheimer’s awareness—especially the stigma.

“In fact, the last chapter, `Star Navigator,’ talks about when I was doing Angels in America,” Harden recalls. “During that time, the AIDS community was just breaking the bubble of shrouding who had AIDS in shame. By doing that, they really galvanized and showed us a way to lead in research and in conquering a disease. We must do that with the Alzheimer’s community because they can’t speak for themselves. My mom can’t be a spokesperson. But now, more and more, people living with Alzheimer’s are being voices and faces for the disease. They’re helping change the tide of how we talk about it.”

Asked if writing the memoir gave her perspective on her own life, Harden points to “maturity” as the biggest takeaway. “Going through the many different things I’ve gone through in the last 20, 30 years changed me. At the time, I was a bit green and raw. But, of course, in life, we grow up, we change, we control. Things that bothered me then or that I’d stand on a soapbox for, or my desire to be right—those wane, to a degree, with maturity. You choose your battles. Even the passions of life. I’m still incredibly passionate about the things I do. But the passionate expression changes as we get older. Perspective is a very interesting educator. It certainly educated me.”

Also teaching Harden—in terms of her first literary effort—was her friend, screenwriter Alvin Sargent (Ordinary People, Julia). “Early on,” the actress explains, “my publisher, Atria, recognized that I write in a way that they say is “lyric” and told me I should just listen to that voice. Alvin would say, `stop thinking about it and let it go! Let your brain go where your thoughts are taking you.’ That was really helpful to allow myself to move forward. I mean, I know enough not to put too many adjectives in the same sentence—anybody who’s taken writing in college knows that. But it was a pleasure to discover my voice, and I wonder if I wrote something different, would I write in a different style? That will be interesting to find out for me because actors often get dismissed as being vain, uneducated people whose opinions don’t count. But when you write a book, maybe you can’t be dismissed as readily. That remains to be seen!”

Although Seasons of My Mother changed from a glossy how-to volume about flower arranging to a personal narrative, Harden chose to keep to a floral theme: “I’d think, in January, what were the flowers mom would use? But rather than linear—January, February, etc.—it became seasonal. And the flowers were always there because they were always there for her.”

 What has always been there for Marcia, from her first appearances in Kojak and Simon & Simon episodes thirty years ago through her role as Grace Grey in all three Fifty Shades movies, is the work. “It’s been a wonderful life for me,” acknowledges. “But I tell my daughter, `don’t be a red-carpet actress. If you’re gonna act, be a real actress.’ My son Hudson, also an actor, loves musical theater, while Julitta loves film and television. But I want her to do theater, too, because that’s where you really hone a lot of skills. Theater actors can be film actors, but film actors can have a very tough time going into theater.”

Harden’s last Broadway role was her Tony-winning turn in God of Carnage nearly a decade ago, but Hollywood still beckons. “After three seasons, Code Black was cancelled,” she says, “so I recently booked an action movie called Point Blank. It’s a kind of character I’ve never played before—a very complicated cop—so I’m excited. I’m also working on some projects of my own because I love television. I love the daily-ness of it, the stories where you don’t know where it’s going, and all of a sudden it changes and the character grows—even if it’s sometimes tough not being in charge of your character. It makes me think of when I was playing Claire in Damages. You assume you know your character, but then the writer gets a whim and wants to up the stakes. So you start as an innocent flower girl, and now you’re a mass murderer!”

Harden is a big believer in researching roles, especially since some of her best known parts—Lee Krasner in Pollock, Ava Gardner in 1992’s telepic Sinatra—were real people. “You want to research the times they lived in, the customs, their mental processes,” she notes. “And that’s a gift because the accent, the stride, the behavior, the attitude—those have to be so specific. And yet, you still bring yourself into it. There’s only one you. Watch the greats—like Meryl Streep, who transforms in everything she does, yet there’s a core of Streepness about it. Actresses like her—Judi Dench, Ellen Burstyn, Nicole Kidman—always bring their touch of humanity to the work.”

Since she brings up acting superstars and legends, it’s only fair to ask Harden about some of the notables with whom she has shared the screen. For example, Diane Keaton, Goldie Hawn, and Bette Midler in 1996’s The First Wives Club. “Oh, that was so long ago,” Harden sighs. “I mostly worked with Diane Keaton. She always wore headphones and was listening to music to get herself in the mood. I will tell you that the moment in the film when she hit me in the head was a mistake; she wasn’t supposed to actually hit me. But she blasted me—100 percent real! Still, back then I was really just a girl sitting in a chair and watching the greats work.”

A year later, Harden would co-star with Robin Williams in Flubber—a memory that instantly makes her laugh. “Loudest set you’ll ever be on in your life!,” she recalls. “Robin was always entertaining the crew and making jokes. You were thrilled when the director called `Cut!’ because that’s when Robin would begin his one-man show. And when they’d say `Action!’ again, he’d be so inventive and bringing what wasn’t on the page to the page. It was really buoyant for me.”

Not surprisingly, back then there was little hint of the demons that would surface for Williams two decades hence. “He was shy in certain ways and incredibly generous,” Harden continues. “And when he was quiet, he was quiet. In those times, you want to make sure that everything’s okay, but really they’re resting. You don’t disturb that. And Robin and I did have one-on-one, deep conversations. But mostly it was seeing his mind working; that was so exciting.”

Harden felt excitement of a different kind appearing with Brad Pitt in Meet Joe Black.

“He was so beautiful!” she gushes. “Couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was thrilled when he noticed my cleavage in one scene! But I found him to be an incredibly classy person. He was going through different things in his private life at the time and breaking up with Gwyneth, but he was just very classy, and his family was there—including his mother—so he was just all-American and respectful of the process of acting and bringing his work to the plate.”

Romance taking a back seat to work has also been Harden’s story the past few years. She’s still single and not exactly looking. “There’s not a lot of interest or great candidates at the moment,” she confesses. “Plus, I’ve got a lot going on, so I’m not really around and available. Now, if the right person came along, great. But I’m deliriously satisfied and incredibly content with the rich, beautiful life I lead. My friends are great, and romance could be fun, but I’m okay at the moment not sharing a sink with anybody!”

 

*

SIDEBAR:

Since flowers are so integral to Marcia Gay Harden’s book, we thought we’d get her quickie impressions of various blooming beauties:

Roses

I think of English gardens and Valentine’s Day. I like wild roses. Store-bought roses are beautiful, but they wilt so damn quickly.

Hyacinths

The aroma is heavenly. They’re an early bloomer. It’s like a jiggling lady.

Daffodils / Jonquils

I’ll always think of them as “a little lady wearing a perky bonnet,” as my mother described them. Or Katharine Hepburn. They grow wild in Vermont, and my ex put hundreds of jonquils on my car when he was first courting me. When I told my mother this story, she said, “Oh, daffodils. The happiest flower in the garden.” I was thrilled that she made the connection that daffodils and jonquils are the same flower.

Tulips

They’re fantastic. They’re spring to me. One can’t help but think of Holland and the fields and fields and fields of them.

Hibiscuses

They’re like a piece of thin, thin, paper. Very delicate.

Irises

A lakeside lover. Little purple ones that bloom by the lake. They make me think of a dark night because they’re purple and edged in black, but then they get lighter until the center is yellow. They’re a dramatic sunset. Like when you look at one side of the sky and you see the sun setting, but the other side is already night.

Orchids

There’s an odd sterility about an orchid. It’s very exotic and delicate and enticing, but without an aroma. You put a white orchid in a home, and it’s immediately elegant.

Amaryllises

Very sexual.

Stargazer Lilies

It’s big and white and aromatic. It’s often in hotel lobbies, so you walk in and you get this beautiful, fresh smell. Instant elegance. My favorite flower.

*

BYLINE:

David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) live on Saturday mornings (facebook.com/radiodavelefkowitz).

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Lemmon’s Pledge

words: david lefkowitz

 (Note: This article was first published in Long Island Pulse, Oct. 2015: http://lipulse.com/2015/09/25/lemmons-pledge/)

 

Not all celebrity families endure the sturm und drang of the Crawfords and the Duggars. Some relations are close and supportive. Consider Meryl Streep and daughter Mamie Gummer or, in their latter years, Joan and Melissa Rivers. Add Jack and Chris Lemmon to that category, where papa Jack’s love of life and music deeply influenced his actor-performer son.

Their kinship led Lemmon junior to publish “A Twist of Lemmon” (2006), his honest but loving memoir that detailed his life with his famous, talented parent. Lemmon said, “It was an attempt to find a catharsis to deal with my father’s death.” The writing did help, but Chris soon realized a book wasn’t quite enough to do justice to their relationship or dad’s legacy.

As an accomplished pianist and a skilled raconteur, the younger Lemmon decided to put together a musical tribute to his dad, something that would help define his father’s life.

“It suddenly occurred to me that the music was a story itself,” he added, “and it creates a unique, but in many ways universal, father-son journey.”  A Twist of Lemmon (the show), which has toured intermittently for the past few years and arrives for one night, Oct. 25, at Theater Three in Port Jefferson, combines Chris’s own original piano pieces with anecdotes—and photos, of course—about life in the Lemmon household. “It’s a heart-warming story,” Chris said. “I adored my dad. He was a warm, engaging, witty and emotionally generous man and such a true joy to be around.”

The older Lemmon, one of Hollywood’s great character actors, died back in 2001 but left a film legacy that includes: Some Like it Hot, The Apartment, Missing, Glengarry Glen Ross, The Odd Couple and Mister Roberts, for which he won a Supporting-Actor Oscar. Chris, familiar from television sitcoms in the 80s and small roles in mostly forgettable movies, appeared with his father in the 1989 family drama “Dad” but has spent recent years writing and producing behind the camera.

What Chris finds unique about his own stage performance is that “the music and the narrative tell parallel stories. The [songs] were written at different periods of my life and represent what was going on in my life.  They were things I couldn’t express with words but were fairly profound memories.”

Chris’s fondness for his father notwithstanding, there were tough times, too. “No, there were no wire coat hangers,” jokes the son, but his father and mother, actress Cynthia Stone, divorced when the boy was two. “I wasn’t a welcome entity in my father’s second marriage, which happens so often. The son from the first marriage is, quite frankly, ostracized.”

“However,” he added, “the real story is that despite the separation that occurred, we decided to fight against that. And at the end, we became the best of friends against all odds.”

A Twist of Lemmon: Theater Three: 412 Main St., Port Jefferson. Oct. 25 @ 3pm. (631) 928-9100.  theaterthree.com

*

BYLINE:
David Lefkowitz will perform his solo comedy, The Miracle of Long Johns, as part of the United Solo Theater Festival at the Theater Row Theater in midtown Manhattan on Friday, Oct. 23, 9pm. More info: miracleoflongjohns.com

 

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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #117 (2/22/2015): Oscars 2015

(aired Feb. 22, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: http://youtu.be/Qx2atxKOxbQ. https://wp.me/pzvIo-20L)

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of February 22nd, 2015.

Problems in the Middle East got you down? Sick of the fighting over healthcare and immigration between the left and the right? Constipated by last night’s meal? (I know I am.) We’re still in the ass-end of winter, the Super Bowl has come and gone, and Purim is mainly for kids, so hurray for the Academy Awards, here to give grownups a shpritz of glitz and a glimpse of glamour, if only for a night. It’s a chance to forget our woes and wallow in Hollywood worship. Three-and-a-half hours of people who make more money in a week than you will in a lifetime, patting each other on the back over just how hard their jobs are.

I’m being sarcastic but, you know, you can take 80 million dollars and make a piece of drek, or you can take that same amount of money and create something memorable and touching and fun. Or best of all, you can take 80 million dollars, give me two million, and I don’t give a crap what you do with the rest.

Anyhoo, this year’s Oscar roster is an eclectic bunch. It seems they always are now that they allow something like 37 movies up for Best Picture. There’s been controversy this season over how white all the acting nominees are. Not one best or featured actor is a person of color – unless you count Robert Duvall, who’s grey, or Benedict Cumberbatch, who, if he were a paint, would be eggshell.

This could be pushback from last year, when “12 Years a Slave” won for best picture, and you had African actors up for other prizes. Considering what John Travolta did to that nice Jewish girl Idina Menzel, maybe the Academy is just terrified of what he’d do to “Selma” actors like David Oyelowo and Carmen Ejogo.

Up for Best Picture is “Selma” – so I feel bad for her sister, Patti – as is “American Sniper,” which is also controversial because in one scene, Bradley Cooper is holding a baby, but it’s obviously a plastic doll. The screenwriter later tweeted that the first infant got sick and the second didn’t show up, so they had to go with a fake. Still, viewers are crying foul, saying how dare Clint Eastwood ask us to use our imaginations and suspend disbelief. That’s what Fox News is for.

Vying with “Selma” and “American Sniper” for Oscar honors are “Birdman,” “Whiplash,” “Boyhood,” The Grand Budapest Hotel,” The Imitation Game,” and “The Theory of Everything.” “Birdman” is about a washed-up actor who keeps trying to make a comeback on Broadway. Or, as I like to call it, the Tony Danza Story. “Whiplash” stars J.K. Simmons as a music teacher so obnoxious and abusive, he missed his calling and should have become a New York City cop.

Then you’ve got “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” a Wes Anderson confection about an old man who can’t give up the one thing that keeps him young. Or, as I call it, The Bill Cosby Story.

We also have “The Imitation Game,” which tells the tale of Alan Turing, a genius who cracked the Nazi code in World War II, only to be hounded to suicide because he was a faigeleh. The tragedy of Alan Turing is that he voluntarily underwent chemical castration, when all he had to do was find the right woman, marry her, and she’d castrate him every day of his life.

Also up for the big prize is “Boyhood,” a story of adolescence that has the critics kvelling because Richard Linklater shot it over the course of 12 years. That’s not inspiration, that’s laziness. Instead of using makeup and padding to make Patricia Arquette look old and fat, he let God do it.

And finally we come to “The Theory of Everything,” a bio-pic about astrophysicist Stephen Hawking. You know, the guy who wrote “A Brief History of Time,” which everyone bought but no one could understand. Kind of like Reaganomics. The point of the movie is that Hawking didn’t let Lou Gehrig’s disease cramp his mojo, especially since it didn’t affect his brain. Well, not until 2013, when that homely hobbit chose to boycott Israel over its supposed mistreatment of the Palestinians. The only black holes Stephen Hawking should be concerned with are the ones in Muslims’ hearts.

So there you have it: the nominees for the 87th annual Academy Awards in Los Angeles. I would be remiss, however, not to mention one of the nominees for best Foreign Film: “Ida,” about a Polish woman who’s about to become a Catholic nun when she learns that her parents, murdered during the Holocaust, were actually Jewish. You can tell that the movie is Polish because it’s set in 1872. Just kidding. You might also check out the Animated Feature Film nominee called “The Boxtrolls,” just because that’s what they really should rename the remaining women on “The View.”

So everyone get your popcorn, your ballot sheets, your No-Doz for Sunday night, February 22nd, when the Oscars arrive and all’s right with America. I’ll miss Joan Rivers on the Red Carpet. Though she was more fun on the kitchen table. Again, just kidding. In closing, I’d like to thank the Academy, my parents and the Lord. And I’m not even schvartz.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

(c) 2015 TotalTheater. All rights reserved.

—> https://davesgoneby.net/?p=27419

–> https://wp.me/pzvIo-20L

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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #62 (4/7/2013): Roger Ebert

Aired April 7, 2013 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAn_bgyfJ7s

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of April 7th, 2013.

Hail and farewell to the respected, prolific and popular film critic, Roger Ebert. On Thursday April 4th, two days after saying he wanted to take things a little slower, he instead came to a complete halt, with cancer doing him in at age 70.

Anyone who loves movies is going to miss Roger Ebert, not just because he warned you what was a stinker before you laid down your six dollars. And then $10. And now $19, or 25 if you throw in popcorn. And not just because Roger could talk intelligently without being patronizing – something I haven’t mastered in 53 years. And not just because Roger’s love for good movies came through even when he pooped on bad ones. The biggest legacy of Roger Ebert – and Gene Siskel – was in remaking the idea of “what is a critic?” Admit it. Before those two, you probably thought of a movie or theater critic as this dreary, sepulchral, Ichabod Crane type, with a Bostonian accent, his nose in the air and his pen in someone’s back. He was better than you, and he sure let you know it. Or he talked so far over your head, sparrows would crash into his verbs on their way to Capistrano.

But not Roger and Gene. Of course they were smart, but they were next-door-neighbor smart, not nuclear physicist smart. And when they explained why Blake Edwards was a genius and dead teenager films are a scourge – even if you didn’t agree, you appreciated their conviction and knew they were treating you like a grownup. Roger may have won a Pulitzer, but he never came off like a pudknocker.

Oh sure, Ebert’s weight made him an easy target for many years. At one point, he was so out of shape, it seemed a miracle he could even lift his thumb. And then, he had to give up TV because of the Big C. The first time I saw a picture of him after all those operations, my jaw dropped. Well, not as low as his, but it was still a shock. And yet, he continued to write. A man who came of age in a time of typewriters and telexes kept himself relevant in our age of tweets and tablets. In fact, he posted more movie reviews last year than he did any year before that. If I had to give that many sermons in a year, my brain would turn to gefilte fish.

And if my cranium did become an amalgam of whitefish, pike, sawdust and carp, would I have the guts Roger Ebert had in being so visible? Of going on Oprah with his new voice or on the internet with his fake chin? If I get a pimple on my nose, I hide for three days.

Among the many quotable quotes of Roger Ebert, he once said that “your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.” Well, I may not be able to follow another Charlie Kaufman movie, but I’m sad that we lost Roger Ebert. I think of Gene Siskel in heaven, waiting all these years for the day he could go, “Awright. No cameras. No censors. Rog, let’s really talk about `Cop and a Half’” Go at it guys; no one did it better.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

(c) 2013 TotalTheater. All rights reserved.

—> https://davesgoneby.net/?p=28994

–> https://wp.me/pzvIo-2ba

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CARRIE FISHER: She Moves On

by David Lefkowitz

Note: This article first appeared in Long Island Woman, Oct. 2009.

October 2009

When I heard the voice on the other end of the phone – thick, slow, fogged – my heart sank. “Oh Jeez, what is she on?”

“She” being Carrie Fisher, the actress once known as the daughter of Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, then known as the heroine of “Star Wars,” but for the past two decades best known as a woman telling the world about her status as a mentally ill, drug-addicted alcoholic.  She’s been clean for three years, but wouldn’t it just be my luck to reach her on Day Zero of the next round?

“I’m stoned out of my mind,” she admitted as the conversation began.

“Oh,” I replied.

“I’m dealing with this head cold I just got yesterday.  It’s awful.”

“Oh!” I said, trying to recall if I’d ever before been so thrilled by another person’s flu. I asked Fisher if she preferred to delay our interview hyping the release of her latest memoir, “Wishful Drinking” [Simon & Schuster], but she replied, “No, it’s fine. If I don’t talk and just lie there, I wheeze, which is worse. I don’t like being sick.”

Tempted to respond with the obvious, “Who does?”, I held myself in check, remembering that I was talking to a woman who’s dealt with other kinds of sickness for a very long time.  “I was told I was hypomanic when I was 24,” Fisher explains.  “In my teens, I knew something was the matter with me.  A psychologist even asked if I was hyperactive. But I was always an incredibly intense person. Then, we moved to New York when I was 15; mom was on Broadway doing Irene, and I was in the chorus. That’s when my personality changed dramatically. It was the first time I’d gone to a psychiatrist – mom had a hard time accepting that because she thought I’d just blame her all day. But what I told the doctor was, `I wanna stop trying so hard.’  And he was great. Right away he said, `You’re not a victim. And it’s not about blame – that’s just “injustice collecting.”’ He took that away from me intellectually to say, `it’s all so-and-so’s fault.’”

Asked the chicken-and-egg question of which came first: showbiz or bipolarity (i.e., did fame have a hand in her madness, or does it take an already crazy person to be an actor in the first place), Fisher offers a qualified response. “It’s in your genes.  It’s a physical thing, although people can be de-stabilized by events. Yes, I’m a product of Hollywood inbreeding, and I don’t have a conventional sense of reality. But my shrink said, `Carrie, if you hadn’t had celebrity parents, if you were a check-out girl, you would have been institutionalized.’”

Actually, she was.  “I’ve been in mental hospitals.  Lots of them, in Connecticut and London.  People have an image.. I mean, nothing could ever be as bad as the words, `mental hospital’ or ‘institutionalized’ if someone commits you. But they’re not country clubs.  They’re places you go because you’re a danger to yourself – as with drug addiction – or you display suicidal behavior.  My judgment was impaired, and I was taking a lot of drugs. But for me, it wasn’t about killing yourself; it was just as a way to turn off your mind.  `Anywhere but here.’ That’s what you wanna feel. Because you have no insulation; everything hurts you so bad. And it takes an alcoholic to always think the solution is booze.”

Sober “off and on” for 28 years, Fisher credits opiate blockers for helping with her addictions and electroconvulsive therapy for staving off a recent deep depression. “ECT has this very heavy stigma,” notes Fisher. “And it’s not deserved, in my opinion.  It does have a dark history and a reputation that’s been brutalized by Hollywood, pill companies and talk therapy. But I’ve found it’s a really good way of managing my bipolarity.  Once every six weeks, it gets me off my back.”

Prescription medications are also in the mix, of course, though the downside of Prozac and Seroquel is obvious to anyone seeing a recent picture of the actress who once did for metal bathing suits what Bo Derek did for braids. “It makes you fat,” Fisher says flatly.  I’m on three meds that are brutalizing me. I hardly eat anything, and I do exercise, so it’s really cruel.”

Asked if her physical changes are extra difficult because so many people still see her as Princess Leia, Fisher turns philosophical. “It makes sense for people to feel that way.  I was in a fairy tale, which is a very rare thing.”  Rare but a tad creepy.  Fisher opens “Wishful Drinking” with an anecdote about shopping in a Berkeley store where the salesman confesses that after seeing “Star Wars,” he thought about her every day from when he was 12 to 22. “Every day?” “Well, four times a day.”

In a 2008 blog, Fisher also demystified her sexy “Star Wars” garb.  “The biggest problem with the metal bikini was that it wasn’t metal.  Not that metal would’ve been an improvement over what it was actually made of, which was kind of a hard plastic. Whatever it was, it didn’t adhere to one’s skin. My skin. My young, soon to be popular, unlucky skin.  So, when I was relaxing leisurely against Jabba the Hutt’s gigantic, albeit grotesque, stomach…the actor standing playing Bobba…could see beyond my yawning plastic bikini bottoms all the way to Florida.”

If only her relationships had been as transparent.  Writing of her connection with first husband Paul Simon, Fisher notes that although she served as the muse for such songs as “Hearts and Bones,” “Allergies,” “She Moves On” and “Graceland,” “Paul…had to put up with a lot with me.  I think ultimately I fell under the heading, `Good Anecdote, Bad Reality’. …when it came to day-to-day living, I was more than he could take.” The marriage lasted two years, though they dated a long while afterwards.  In the early 1990s, she lived with casting agent Bryan Lourd, who fathered her daughter, Billie.  “Bryan took really, really good care of me,” Fisher writes, which is why it stung badly when he left her – for another man.  “I did an interview with Catie Couric,” Fisher recalls in our chat, “and she said, `shouldn’t it feel better that he didn’t leave you for another woman? He wasn’t rejecting you; he was rejecting your entire sex.’ I said, `ha ha ha,’ but I felt stupid and blamed myself.  When Bryan left, my daughter was the same age as I was when my father left, so everything kicked up more.”  In her book, Fisher quotes Debbie Reynolds putting it this way:  “You know, dear, we’ve had every sort of man in our family – thieves and alcoholics and one-man bands – but this is our first homosexual!”

On a more serious note, Fisher makes no bones about her absentee father likely having bipolar disorder as well, so I ask if she’s worried that Billie, now in her teens, might be prone to the same problems. “My daughter is a very strong girl,” Fisher replies, “and much more self-aware than my mother or myself ever were at her age.  People know now if you have a parent who’s alcoholic, there’s a 50 percent chance of doing that as well. But my daughter’s very confident, works very hard and is a great student. And she’s not exhibited any signs of being bi-polar.”

Asked if writing about her life has served a therapeutic or even cathartic purpose, Fisher says, “It can be, but more often it goes from inclination to obligation.  I didn’t even start writing until I was 30 because it’s hard to muster up perspective until you’re that age.  Still, I have to find in me what I relate to, so everything I write is somewhat autobiographical.”  If “Wishful Drinking” reads as more of a monologue than a memoir, there’s good reason: Fisher has been performing the material as a solo act since its 2006 premiere at Los Angeles’ Geffen Theater. Since then, she’s toured the show to Boston, Washington DC and Seattle, and in September she’ll bring the piece to Broadway’s Studio 54 as part of the Roundabout Theater Company’s fall season.

“That’s a great, great victory,” she notes. “If you can take something that’s completely not funny – in fact, it’s painful, devastating – and find the funny part, the gallows humor, and make an audience laugh, that’s magic. The darker the stuff is, the more essential it is to find the funny. Of course, if you look hard enough, there’s a funny thing in everything.  Literally everything.”

SIDEBAR:

BRUSHES WITH GREATNESS

On Cary Grant

“My mother was upset that I was doing drugs.  I admitted I was doing acid, so she did what every normal mother would do: she called Cary Grant.  He had a reputation of doing acid under a doctor’s supervision, which always fascinated me.  So Cary Grant called me and talked to me for well over an hour. And later on, when my father went to Grace Kelly’s funeral in Monte Carlo, he met Grant there but didn’t know what to say, so he said, `My daughter’s addicted to acid.’  So Cary Grant called me again. He was a very nice man.”

On Mike Nichols

“He wanted me to write the screenplay for `Postcards from the Edge,’ and I said, `I can’t do this. Get someone professional to do it.’ But he said to me the times I felt like quitting were when I did my best work. So I did it and was there throughout the filming. He’s an incredibly creative, brilliant man.”

On Bob Dylan

“[In the 1980s], someone from his office called my business office and asked, `Can we give Bob Dylan your phone number?’ And I wanted to say, `No, you keep that stalker away from me. I don’t want any more Sixties icons fucking up my life!’  But of course, I took the call.  He’d been asked by a perfume company to do a fragrance called, `Just Like a Woman.’ He didn’t like the title but liked the idea of a cologne.  What is it about me that made him think I went around making up cologne names?  Anyway, I gave him, `Ambivalence – for the scent of confusion,’ `Arbitrary – for the man who doesn’t give a shit how he smells,’ and `Empathy – feel like them, smell like this.’”

– 30 –

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A SENSIBLE SOLUTION

((c)1989 David Lefkowitz. This article was first published in the July 28, 1989 issue of The Long Island Examiner newspaper.)

Congratulations to Congress for arriving at a sensible solution to the raging controversy involving protection of important films. Though arbitrarily limited in scope, the newly passed National Film Preservation Act should assuage the auteurs as it mollifies the mavericks.

Quite simply, the Preservation Act calls for a committee to choose 25 classics of American cinema to be officially designated as “treasures.” Any time these treasures are cut, censored, colorized, or otherwise changed from their original form, the film must carry a conspicuous label warning prospective viewers. Among the first batch of movies ripe for canonization are The Grapes of Wrath and It’s a Wonderful Life — the latter a holiday television fixture now generally shown in computerized color. 

It was, in fact, populist vulgarian Ted Turner and his digital fingerpaint that prompted the Director’s Guild of America to seek protective legislation in the first place. “If Frank Capra didn’t shoot his Wonderful Life in color,” they argue, “what right has Ted Turner to impose a rosy-cheeked James Stewart on the world?” Mr. Turner invariably counters that the only reason films in the 30s and 40s were shot in black and white was because color was unavailable. That may be true, but his thesis only confirms that those directors were forced to think in black and white; their cameramen and lighting designers composing their frames as a delicate balance of light and shadow.

The art vs. commerce controversy really heated up when Turner, feeling extra pugnacious, cracked that he was going back on his promise and would colorize Citizen Kane. Splashing video eyewash on low-budget Tarzan serials is one thing; altering the look of Hollywood’s greatest technical achievement is another. The mortified Director’s Guild took their complaint to Congress and, contrary to the House of Representatives’s abysmal recent record on arts issues, Congress chose aesthetics over cosmetics.

It now falls to members of the writers, artists, and directors guilds, NYU and UCLA film departments, and other respected motion-picture organizations to select 25 films worthy of landmark status. I, for one, wish them luck, since some of their probable choices make my all-time keeper list, as well (City Lights, To Kill a Mockingbird). 

But fussy cineaste that I am, I can’t help but wonder whether 25 films per year is sufficient. Video distributors may groan, but why not protect ALL movies? Prohibitive costs might limit restoration of film negatives to masterpieces like Lawrence of Arabia or Napoleon, but how much trouble is it to label a video box, “computer colorized” or “recorded at slow speed”? How much effort would it be for a syndicated TV station to run a crawl before its screenings: “Language and adult situations edited for television. Contains footage not shown in theaters but seven minutes removed to make room for commercials. An announcer will talk loudly over the closing credits.”?

I exaggerate the particulars, but requiring networks to be upfront about their programming is no more unreasonable than asking for ingredients, instructions, and warnings on any other consumer item. And we rightly demand proper labeling on all these products, not just the expensive or popular ones.

Using the same logic, Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather saga (a shoo-in for “treasure” status) may be a masterpiece, but is it any more deserving of special treatment than his less mainstream The Conversation or Apocalypse Now? And just suppose Mr. Coppola has a soft spot in his heart for his critical duds One from the Heart and Rumble Fish, both highly dependent on mood and visual style. As director, isn’t he entitled to safeguard the content of his own work?

Roddy McDowell, representing the Screen Actors Guild on the film-selection committee, pointed out that It’s a Wonderful Life was unappreciated in its time. As he told the New York Times, “Everything has historical value. A film that was thought to be kitsch or that was ignored can seem different decades later… As far as I’m concerned, every film is a national monument.”


By treating all movies as something to be cherished, we ennoble the art form and preserve the specialness of film for future generations. As long as complete, pure prints are readily available — and the differences are clearly noted — film enthusiasts should be willing to compromise on the exhibition of bastardized copies. We can’t stop our children from being served their movies sliced, diced, and spliced, but at least they’ll know that wasn’t the way those films were originally conceived.

So many mass-marketed movies have by now lost their copyrights, and the people who made them are no longer with us. Perhaps these craftsmen, plagued by undercranking projectionists, bad pianists, and reels out of sequence, would not have minded commercials and colorization, but to make such sweeping assumptions about all artists is to insult their collective memory. Ted Turner paid good money for his vault of movies, and it’s his legal privilege to dye them, blip them, or run them upside down and backwards if he so desires. All Congress can do is require that he warn us beforehand. It’s a courtesy to viewers who care and a sign of respect to the artists who dreamed.

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