He was in a fog!  He was in a fugue!  He wanted fudge.  He wanted fags.  As in cigarettes.  That was what he really wanted!  The smooth tobacco taste of Winston; because he smoked for taste!  Maybe that nice Fred fellow would come by with some?

Or perhaps that lovely Miss Hathaway and her friends Jed and that good looking Jethro; maybe he could bum a pack off of them?

The nurse came to his bedside. She looked familiar.  She rested a cool palm on his forehead.  "Temperature's down, finally.  I've brought you some soup.  I want you to sit up now and eat it.  It's Campbell's Manhandler!"
"What flavor?" he asked, squinting from the snow-glare light coming through the window.
"Well, let's see...we've got Vegetable Beef, Chili Beef, Split Pea with Ham, Noodles and Ground Beef and Scotch Broth."
He sat up on one elbow.  "That last one sounds intriguing.  Does it have real Scotch in it?"
The nurse smiled.  "Now you know, Mr. Reidy; that we don't have any alcohol here at Silver Hill..."  She turned on the television.

"Will I have to shovel the driveway?" he asked, when she returned with the soup.
"Of course not.  You're here for you mind.  Your body will come later."
"I just realized who you look like..."
"Who?"
"Heidi Gardner from Saturday Night Live."
"I don't know who she is.  Or what Saturday Night Live is.  Is that a movie?"
He looked around.  Something was off.  Oh no!  It was happening again.  When he was young and he heard that song: "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha Haaa!"; his heart would race and he would grow terrified.  Imagine that.  Shaken to the core by a stupid novelty song.  But yes, it had upset him.  But now here he was--
"What is this place?  Where am I?"
WHERE AM I?
The cliche was frighteningly of the moment.  This moment.  When was this moment?
"What year is it?  Who's the President?"
"Take a deep breath.  It's 1968 and the President is Mr. Johnson.  You're in the Silver Hill Sanitarium in New Canaan, Connecticut."
Saturday Night Live isn't even an idea yet.  And Heidi is just an egg somewhere, at the moment.  Another nurse popped her head in the room and said: "They're ready downstairs."  The second nurse smiled at him.  She had dark hair, unlike the first nurse, who was blonde.  Then he realized who Nurse Number Two looked like and his memory started coming back; like a rolling ball of thunder; as the bard said.

The blonde nurse nodded.  "We'll be right down...as soon as Mr. Reidy has finished his soup."  Campbell's Soup.  He couldn't help but think of Andy Warhol.  And his next thought was of Edie Sedgwick.  And hadn't she stayed at this very place once?  And then he wondered why Edie Brickell sort of disappeared once she married Paul Simon.  And didn't she sing a song about Edie?  Yes.  Yes she did.

Maybe Edie was here, he thought.  Donde esta Edie?  
When he was finished with his Scotch Broth, the Blonde Nurse whisked the bowl away and watched as he put on his silk, paisley robe and monogrammed slippers: CRF
He nodded his readiness and the nurse guided him out of the room and down a large wood-panelled, grand stairwell to the ground floor.  A door to a dayroom was opened and once through it, he was standing in front of a semi-circle of concerned faces.  Some in repose.  Some animated: literally(!).  He recognized them immediately: Valerie Brown and Alexandra Cabot and her brother Alexander.  And their cat, Sebastian.

He recognized some other faces.  Bette Davis.  Cicely Tyson.  But some of the others were foggy, obscured; or just in his periphery and he couldn't quite place them, like in a dream sometimes.  The Blonde Nurse fluffed a pillow in an armchair facing the group.  "Why don't you have a seat?" she asked.  He sat.  She continued.  "These people are here because--"
"I know why they're here.  This is an intervention.  But I'm already in the booby-hatch.  So I'm guessing this is about my..."
"Pahhhhrrrahhhnoihhhahhhh!" Bette Davis proclaimed as she exhaled a wave of filterless cigarette smoke.
"OCD..." he mumbled, unconvinced.  And then again.  "OCD."
Lola Falana took a sip of a supposedly contraband martini and *SIGHED*

Tina F. is ready to pitch!  Can you catch what she's layin' down?

FADE UP:
INT. AD AGENCY CONFERENCE ROOM -DAY
Chris is escorted into the glass-walled room and shown a seat at the table.  He puts his Pink Lady down and takes his chair.  He puts his briefcase in front of him and unclasps the closures, which flip up with a crisp BOING as Tina F. enters the room in super-cahszh  businees attire.  She is followed by by Amy P. who is also quite comfy looking.  Amy spreads her spread-sheets out on the glass and pencils a pie-chart.

​CHRIS
I didn't realize this meeting was going to be quite this casual.
TINA
What are you talking about?
AMY
Yeah.  Just what are you getting at...what's your name?
CHRIS
Chrissy.
AMY
Yeah.  We're not calling you that.
TINA
Yeah, we don't know you like that.
CHRIS
Well, I feel I know you like that, what with those outfits--
AMY AND TINA 
Sexist!
CHRIS
Oh really?  Well, then you won't mind if I get a little more comfortable?
AMY
Nobody cares about you, old man.
TINA
Yeah, loser.
CHRIS
Okay, well, I've had a little work done..(Removes most of his clothes)...Oooh oui!  I feel more...com...for...ta...ble...!!! Stand back ladies!

Don Draper walks in and comes to a halt.  He looks around.
DON
Well, I know it's casual Friday, but this is--HOT!  Mind if I join you?
TINA, AMY AND CHRIS (SIMULTANEOUSLY)
NO!

Don gets comfy in beach wear.
DON
We could take this to the hot tub if you like.
TINA, AMY AND CHRIS
Yes!
At this point, a man in nothing but a cowboy hat enters.  This is STETTS TUBBS JR., son of Stetts Tubbs.
STJ
Did somebody say, "hot tub"?
DON
Yes.  Where did Stetts Sr. disappear to?
STJ
Daddy had to skeedaddle off to the coast, but I'll be happy to fill in for him, and those are some pretty big boots to fill!
CHRIS
I'll say!
DON
Right this way to the in-office hot tub..
Don presses a button and a wall opens, revealing a hot-tub/bar set-up, straight out of the Fountainbleu, circa 1962.  Or maybe a ski-resort...

AMY
But what about my flow charts?  And my pie graphs?  Not to mention my spread sheets?  They'll get moist--
TINA
Amy, can you not just go with the friggin' flow for once?  Jeez!
The group enter the hot tub.  Stets Jr. hangs back.
STJ
I like to back into hot tubs...bear with me...

CHRIS
​Works for me!  Now let's see the front!

DON
Jr., you're a chip off the old block!
STJ
Well thank you Donnie...
DON
And don't call me that.  And Amy, put away your pie graphs, because this is going to be a Riff-Sesh.
AMY
What's a "riff-sesh"?  I thought we were here to talk about the Ty-D-Bowl debacle.
DON
Ty-D-Bowl, schmeidy-bowl.  Think of this as a coming together, of sorts.  A Vulcan mind-meld.  Think of this roiling water as a sort of Primordial Soup of Ideas.  A Brain-Soup, if you will.  And you're soaking in it.
CHRIS
This room reminds me of my parent's honeymoon.
TINA
You were on your parent's honeymoon?
CHRIS
No, but I have a postcard they were on.
AMY
That they sent?
CHRIS
No.  They were actually on the postcard.  They were there in June and the hotel asked them to pose like they were on a ski trip.
DON
It's on the Power-Point.
CHRIS
It is?
DON
The Draper Agency is on the cutting edge.
CHRIS
But I thought this was Sterling, Cooper, Price, Waterhouse, Livingston, Gentry and Mishkin. Oh, and McMann and Tate.
DON
You'd be mistaken.
He points a remote at a screen and we see the following:

AMY
Which ones are your parents?
CHRIS
My dad is sitting at the piano and my mom's to his left.
TINA
He plays?
CHRIS
No.  Not even Chopsticks.
DON
Doesn't matter.  He's selling the sizzle.
CHRIS
Personally, I think the guy in the blue ski pants is selling the sizzle, DD!
DON
You can call me that.  And what I'm saying is that it doesn't matter if he can play or not.  If we think he can, he can.

CHRIS
I don't understand.  He can't and I know he can't and I'll never think he does.
DON
But you know him.  There are MILLIONS of people who don't; and it wouldn't take much to convince them he could.
CHRIS
How?
DON
By lying to them.  People will fall for a free lunch, every time. Every time. Especially if they think they're getting fries with it.  Even if the free lunch is poison and will kill them.
AMY
That's a bit much, don't you think?
DON
Okay, how about we go with indigestion?
He presses a button on a nearby console.  We hear the RECEPTIONIST'S VOICE.
RECEPTIONIST
Sterling, Cooper, Price, Waterhouse, McMann, Tate--
DON
Burt's not here today Joan; you can lose the greeting.  But can you come tend bar?
JOAN
Sure.  I've got nothing better to do...
DON
You're aces Joanie!
JOAN
That's good, DD; because aces beat kings.
DON
Every time, baby!  She's the best.  So, Chrissy Baby, Tina tells me you have an idea for a project for her.  Lay it on me--
TINA
It's a hard pass Don.
DON
Well, I wanna hear it.  We're soaking in it, remember?
He grabs a nearby bottle of Palmolive dishwashing liquid and squirts some into the water.  Bubbles ensue.

We hear joyful GIGGLES, WHEEEES, LAFFS and GUFFAWS.  Joan enters with a pad and pencil.
JOAN
What are you drinking, puh-leee-ahhhz?

DON
Joanie makes a killer Grasshopper!  You gotta try it!  Joan, could you whip us up a batch of Grasshoppers?
JOAN
It would make my life complete.
She goes to the bar and gets to work:

DON
So, Chrissy Babes; drop this 411 on me!  What ideas do you have for the Teenster over here?
CHRIS
Okay, so, I think Tina should be the new face of Kroger Brand Chicken In a Bisquit Crackers!  
DON
Kroger?  She's a Big Star; at the very least, don't you think it should be for Nabisco?
TINA
Yeah.  Only top-shelf chicken crackers for this gal!
DON
You know, I don't think Nabisco has run ads for that product outside of Australia since the late 80's.  Never in the States.
He clicks his remote:

AMY
Wow, DD...you really know your stuff!
STJ
That's why they pay him the big ole' bucks, buckaroos!  YEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAHHHHH!
DD
But you know, Chrissy; you might be on to something.  What with soaring inflation, people are always going to turn to in-house brands to save a little money; and Tina could be the first in a whole new playing field.  But I believe Kroger just changed the packaging from this:

DD
​To this...

DD
That chicken is a problem...
CHRIS
How so?
DD
Well, the chicken industry is having serious problems right now and that chicken seems to be saying: "Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?"  In my experience, I find that people prefer cute cocks.
CHRIS
Really?  I don't particularly want to be reminded of the misery an animal goes through to end up on my plate.
DD
I agree; but research bears out the opposite.

TINA
Now I'm gonna have that song stuck in my head.
At this point, Joan distributes Grasshopper cocktails to the group.  They all sip and nod in agreement: MMMM, DELISH!

CHRIS
I brought an outfit and some props if Tina would like to get a feel for them.  The're in that Kroger shopping bag...
TINA
Really?  Like right now?
STJ
Strike while the iron's hot little lady...Brand X!

Tina *SIGHS*, gathers up some bubbles, demurely exits the tub, grabs the bag and goes behind a screen.  

TINA
Ready?
ALL
Ready!
Tina steps out from behind the screen:

DON
Hmmmm.
AMY
That is one giant cock!
DON, STETTS JR. AND CHRIS (SIMULTANEOUSLY)
Thanks.
TINA
Ya know...I don't hate it.
DON
There's too much negative space on the apron.  We could put an adorable chicken on it.  What do you think Tina?
TINA
(Doing Groucho) Why, I haven't had an adorable chicken since my honeymoon!
CHRIS
And I gotta say, that is one adorable chicken you got there Tina.  You better watch out.  He's one of my hall passes.
TINA
You keep my chicken's cluck, out ya mouth, bitch!
CHRIS
I love how you guys swap eyeglasses; and speaking of eyes...I could just get lost for days in those peepers!

​AMY
You better watch it Reidy.  The Teens doesn't play around when it comes to her man.  She's Greek.
CHRIS
So?
AMY
They kinda invented revenge.
CHRIS
Oh, right (LAUGHS NERVOUSLY) Ha ha. Anyways; I'm just yanking her chain.  And to make up for it, I'll even pose on the box with you Tina!
TINA
Don't tell me.  You brought an outfit?
CHRIS
Bingo-bongo!
Chris gathers up some suds and demurely disappears behind the screen.

CHRIS (O/S)
Ready?
ALL (EXCEPT TINA)
Yes!
TINA
Whatever...
Chris steps out from behind the screen.
CHRIS
I call this look: "Le Coq Sportif"!

CHRIS
That picture quality sucks...I'll find a better copy...oh, hold on...(Looks at his phone)...I gotta cut this short.  I have to pop off to the greater Boston area; but I'll be back in a few days to continue this Riff-Sesh. Ciao for now!
He runs out.
STETTS
You know, I like him...but is he, you know...(does air quotes)...all there?
TINA
(Rips drumstick off of chicken)  Do we care? Chicken anyone?
Everyone nods and Tina drops the chicken into the hot-tub.  Don dips his finger in, tastes, nods again and does a "chef's kiss."

FADE FROM BLACK:
We watch as Chris 'Chrissy Baby" Reidy winds, wends and wafts his way down Lexington Avenue, crowded with people.  Behind him, as though narrating, is Woody Allen, speaking into a micro-cassette recorder:

They arrive at the steps leading down to 601 Lexington.  Woody CLICKS off his recorder.  Chris turns to him.
CHRIS
Thanks for that, Wood-Man.  Much appreeche.  Now, are you sure this building won't blow over in the wind?
WOODY
I wouldn't know. I only go inside buildings with less than five stories.
CHRIS
Is that even possible, in this apple we call The Big?
Woody shrugs.
WOODY
You go ahead and go in.  I'll catch up with you later in the week.
And with that, he disappears into the throngs.
Chris looks up at the building, clicks his tongue and heads down the stairs.

CUT TO:
INT. LOBBY -DAY
We see the elevator doors open and Chris alights on the 59th floor.  He crosses the gleaming whte floor and approaches a desk where a busty red-head sits beneath a sign in brass letters that reads: STERLING, COOPER, PRICE, WATERHOUSE, MCMANN, TATE, LIVINGSTON, GENTRY AND MISHKIN.  The RECEPTIONIST holds up an index finger as the phone RINGS and she answers.
RECEPTIONIST
Sterling, Cooper, Price, Waterhouse, McMann, Tate, Livingston, Gentry and Mishkin; how may I direct your call?  Oh, yes, he's in a meeting right now, can I take a message?  Yes.  Of course.  Four o'clock on the fifth.  Good-bye.  (She looks up at Chris) Can I help you?
CHRIS
I have a meeting at three with Don Draper.  Chris Reidy...
RECEPTIONIST
Right.  Can I get you something to drink?
CHRIS
I'd love a Pink Lady.
RECEPTIONIST
Well, they're my specialty...
She stands and escorts Chris to a Barcelona chair, where he sits. The receptionist disappears behind a sliding panel and returns with a well stocked bar cart.

She whips up a Pink Lady with the speed and alacrity of a seasoned barkeep.  She hands it to Chris.  The phone RINGS and she answers it from a phone on a side table.
RECEPTIONIST
Sterling, Cooper, Price...(etc. etc. )  Stets is out of the bathroom?  Great, I'll send Mr. Reidy in.  They're ready to start, if you want to follow me.
CHRIS
This drink is delish!
RECEPTIONIST
Thanks.  You really want to get egg-whites from brown eggs; because brown eggs are local eggs and local eggs are fresh!  (She taps an earbud as the phone RINGS)  Sterling, Cooper...(etc.) Tina and Amy are here?  Great, I'm bringing Mr. Reidy down now.
CHRIS
Do you have to say the firms's name in it's entirety, every time you answer the phone?
RECEPTIONIST
Yep.  And when Mr. McMann was alive we had to add: "...where we're more than an ad agency!" And if it was a holiday we had to add seasonal things like: "...where Dad's are dandy..." if it was say, Father's Day.
CHRIS
Really?
RECEPTIONIST
Really.  Do you know how many phone calls we get a day?  I had to put people on hold, just so I could say the entire greeting.
She steers Chris down a Lucite stariway to the floor below and down a corridor.  A man in a cowboy hat is pacing the hall.  He is STETS TUBBS; all-purpose businessman.  He points to a door marked MEN.
STETS
I wouldn't go in that bathroom anytime soon if I were you, little filly!
​RECEPTIONIST
I don't usually use the men's room; but thanks for the heads up, Mr. Tubbs.
STETS
Yeee-haaaah! (LOUD BRAYING LAUGH)

Please see "Ad-Ed Value" Pt. 2, for next installment.

CFR   3/4/25

Ya know, I love a good cliche.  Here's one: "You really do learn something new every day!"  And I think that's true; particularly if you set out to find something new.  For instance, lately I've become...I won't say "obsessed" with Vincent Van Gogh; but very much moved by him and his work in a way I never was before.  Why?  Hmmmmm, I'm not sure.  Let's explore that.  But first, here's one of the new things I learned on a recent day.  There is an artist named Lynette Yiadom-Boakye who I'd never heard of before, that I stumbled upon when I had the thought: "Did Van Gogh ever paint any black people?"
Here she is with one of her paintings:

You know what I really like about the above picture?  That Ms. LYB is smiling.  Why is it in so many pictures of artists (most), they are scowling like they just learned they have jock itch?  Of course, there are plenty of Ms. LYB not smiling; but at least it's not all of them:

So, what's the connection to Vincent VG?

Well, color for one.  I recently came across a self-portrait I did that I'd forgotten about; it was very similar to the one above, although I was not consciously trying to emulate Van Gogh.  I would post it here; but of course, now that I'm looking for it, I can't find it.  My studio (talk about a hot mess) is in a state of flux right now.  Nothing is lost in Christian Science (say it aloud, three times).  So, when I asked HAL 9000 if VVG had ever painted black people, it brought me to his painting, The Potato Eaters:

And several others like Head of a Young Peasant with Pipe:

It seems there's no definitive answer.  There are a lot of question posed on line, like: Was Van Gogh a Racist?  I don't know; but I want to do some further reading.  So, when I was doing this research, the image of a painting popped up and I was immediately drawn to it:

Veridian green is one of my favorite colors; so it was that and the striking stark directness of the image.  I wanted to know more.  The painting is called A Passion Like No Other.  When you start to look at her portraits, you can't help but notice the connection between her and Van Gogh: the colors, the directness and so forth...

So, apparently, Ms. YB's reputation recedes her (for me).  She commands super high prices, I would imagine, for a living artist; and I say: More Power To Her!
She apparently was asked at some point to curate a show and pick the paintings in it.  She chose this work, by David Hockney:

I don't think that painting could be any less Hockney and any more Van Gogh, than an actual Van Gogh:

I think this is an interesting correlation.  I once did a little portrait of Ving Rhames, and when it came to doing the coloring, I did some experimenting.  I found that if you combine blue and orange, you get brown...so that's what I did...but I left some of the coloring unmixed and I thought the effect was really cool, so I left it.

In any event, I'm super happy that Ms. Y-B is able to get upwards of a million dollars for a painting!  No wonder she's smiling!

I read in one piece about her that the subjects of her paintings often don't exist.  She imagines them and then paints them. Let's hear what she has to say about it...

OMG, I'm in love.  She's as direct about her work as the actual work.  I'm glad I've discovered her.
Ciao for now.
And Happy Black History Month!
Your friend,
Chris Reidy

CFR   2/25/25

Is it weird that I have a man crush on an old-school animator who passed away nearly four decades ago?  Well, maybe not for me, as I am werid.*  I'll admit it.  Or maybe I'm no weirder than anyone else; but I'll talk about my weirdness...up to a certain point.  Some things are just too weird to admit out loud.  You know; the kind of things that if people knew they'd never look at you quite the same way, like, ever again.  But I think a retro-"para-social"-man crush, although weird; is not quite weird enough for me to be ostracized on some subliminal level.  The man in question is one Mr. Tom Oreb, who worked for Dizzney while the OG Diz was still walking the planet.  There appear to be two pictures of Mr. Oreb in existence (in the public realm, anyways) from around the time of Mary Poppins (1963ish, maybe?).  Here they are:

Actually, maybe these were taken during the making of 101 Dalmatians, so somewhere between 1959 and 1961...which is not super important here.  And Mr. Oreb is somewhat tangential to what I'm going to be writing about.  Huh, can you actually start something on a tangent?  I guess you can!
Now, I guess this is going to deal with dreams and dreaming in some way...let's just go where it takes us, I say; as I'm between Tina Fey Razzings at the moment.  Mr. Oreb fits into this, I suppose, as he was a creator of dreams: movies, that is; which I feel are sort of dream states captured.  Yes, still; but even more so when movies were all about celluloid: capturing light on film and then projecting that light by shining light back through it again.  I think that that is the unceasing miracle of film.  Like, say, you think of the original negative of something like, Gone With the Wind.  Light was bounced off of Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable, went through a lens and then was burned onto a piece of plastic.  Their shadows are there, on that celluloid.  I don't know, I find it kind of mind blowing.  Anyways, when Mr. Oreb popped into my mind, which he is wont to do every now and again, I recalled that I had done some drawings of him, like five years or so ago.  So I went and found them for this blog:

Five years or so ago.  Ha!  The date on the corner of the first one is 9/06.  I nearly did a spit take.  How?  How!  How could I have done this almost twenty years ago?  Does time really move that fast?  But I quickly saw the silver lining (or silver nitrate): if in my mind this was about five years ago, then nothing in my past is older than five years!  I'm forever five!  Oh, wait.  Isn't that a Tina Fey joint?  Anyways, it made me feel old; but then I looked at the pictures of Mr. Oreb and he's about 50 there.  I'd say he looks pretty great for a 1960 era 50 year-old.  He was a Scorpio.  Do you ever think about things like:  "Gee, what if I'd been born in say, the early 20's and had gone to California and gotten a job at the Disney Studios and met Tom Oreb and he was into dudes and we clicked...if we 'got together, yeah, yeah, yeah'; would it have worked out?  Scorpios are known for their intensity and possessiveness.  Would I, as a Sagittarius have been a good match?  What do you suppose he liked to do "off duty"- wink, wink?" Or, "Wow, I never noticed how many S's the word possessiveness has before!"  But then, how could a man who drew these adorable forest creatures have a dark side?:

Those are from Sleeping Beauty, which I may have mentioned is my all-time favorite artistic undertaking.  Mr. Oreb designed or had a hand in designing the style and look of most of the characters in the film.  He specialized in that sort of Mid-20th-Century-googie-graphic-style, with lot of dark lines and angularity; which is one of my favorite styles as well.  I found a caricature that Mr. Oreb did of himself.  Let's take a look!

Yeah, so, actually,  one of his co-workers did this.  I think Mr. Kimball clearly picked up on Mr. Oreb's masculine energy.  I don't know about you, but I'm aroused! Oh, and southpaw plus.  I think I just realized who Mr. Oreb reminds me of.  A teacher I had back in high school, Mr. Dakin.  One of the kindest men I ever met.  He went on to become the President of the Massachusetts Board of School Superintendents, kind of a teaching celeb of sorts.  And as he's a public figure, I'll post his picture:

Yeah...I may have had a little bit of a crush on Mr. Dakin; but then, who didn't I have a crush on?  Why can't someone like him be President?  Kind, fair, compassionate, possessed of a radiant integrity...(we can only dream...).
But back to movies and movies about dreaming.  And what goes hand-in-hand with dreaming?  Sleeping!  Another of my very favorite past-times!
I was originally going to write about some of my favorite movies.  And I was thinking about it and I thought, well, yeah, sure...I have tons of favorite movies; but what about the ones that are REALLY the favorites.  The ones you're not neccessarily supposed to like and praise; but those tried and true ones that you NEVER-EVER tire of; the ones you can watch over and over, almost on a loop...and still somehow find something new in it each time.  So here's the list:

SLEEPING BEAUTY (DISNEY) 1959
COMA - 1978
LOGAN'S RUN - 1976
TOOTSIE - 1982
MANHATTAN - 1979
INTERIORS - 1978
DRESSED TO KILL - 1980
VALLEY OF THE DOLLS - 1967

Why these films?  Well, I think there's a theme here; and that theme, is SLEEP; and by extention: DREAMING.  So let's break it down, in that order.  We'll look at the original trailers first and then I'll comment:
SLEEPING BEAUTY

The library in my elementary school had a copy of Disney's Fantasyland, and Sleeping Beauty was in there.  I was transfixed by the illustrations.  Here's a sample:

I wasn't really responding to the story so much as to the imagery.  The artwork.  And this artwork is not stills from the finished film.  It seems to be a combination of concept art, altered film frames, background art and original art done for the book.  The raven in the movie never turns pink (or blue), which he really should have.  But he does here.  In any event, my little seven year-old self was responding to the STYLE.  The GRAPHIC DESIGN.  Of course, back then, you couldn't just rent the movie and watch it.  You had to wait for it to be rereleased by Disney.  In the meantime, I bought a View-Master just so I could buy the Sleeping Beauty reel packet.  Not quite the same thing; but it did tide me over until it finally came out again in 1979 and, somewhat embarrassed, I dragged my little brother and my friend Scott to see it.  There was no way I was going to miss it on the Big Screen!
So, I suppose this film opened up some dreams for me: art, cinema, animation, graphic design, mid-century Modernism.  And, come on: the film is literally about a girl who wakes up to her womanhood after having a lovely nap and some sweet dreams.  She even sings a song about it!

The original draw with this one was my hometown city of Boston, Mass.  The book had been like one of those phenomenal best-sellers that everbody and their uncle read.  The author, Robin Cook lived in Boston; so, if you were from the Boston area, COMA was even more of a thing.  I read it.  It was one of the first "adult" novels I read.  The movie came out a few years later.
So, this one deals with people going to sleep, permanently.  Either through irreversible coma or death.  Apparently, when you're in a coma, it's kind of like being in an ongoing dream state.  And I suppose the scenario of  COMA is truly nightmarish, if you really think about it.  But if you've got the feisty Dr. Susan Wheeler, as essayed by the delightfully dry and scrappy Ms. Genevieve Bujold, in glowing white, no less, fighting for your life; well, no wonder the film lives on.  Particularly for gay men, who seem to universally adore Elizabeeth Ashley's 'Mrs. Emerson," the Evil Nurse who makes a great foil to Ms. Bujold.  Gay men love their Ice-Queen-Uber-Bitch-goddesses, don't they?  Let's see Liz in action.

This movie also had amazing photography courtesy of Victor Kemper, the amazing entertainment instincts of the underrated Michael Crichton (aside: he came into the Polo store once, where I worked: very nice, very tall and very handsome in a 50's kind of way...I'll have to write a blog about that!); and one of--what I think--is the best movie scores ever produced, from Jerry Goldsmith.  Let's take a listen. I particularly love when the tempo starts picking up around the 2.22 mark from the opening:

Yeah, so like, everything about that movie, for me (right down to the font of the logo) checks all my boxes!

LOGAN'S RUN - 1976

Interestingly, this one also has a score by Jerry Goldsmith.  And sleep comes in here as a theme pretty immediately.  Logan is a "Sandman," as in the character who comes while you sleep and puts sand in your eyes.  More officially he's a "DS" officer, which stands for "Death Sleep," wherein the people of the society in the story must face him if they don't willingly report to a "Sleep Shop" ("Carousel" in the movie).  But it's not only about going to sleep: Logan's Run is about waking up to the truth, which is what Logan's journey is all about.  That it's all couched in gorgeously takcy but wonderfully beautiful imagery is a plus.  And he really only truly "runs" once, in the movie:

Can they just remake this already?  Like, what's the problem?  We get ten DUNEs but no Logan?  And please, don't make Logan female.  Logan is a guy.  Jessica is the girl.  There, I said it.

TOOTSIE - 1982

Never saw that before.  That must be a "teaser" trailer.  It doesn't even have the music they actually used in the movie.
How is Tootsie about sleep and dreaming?  Well, I suppose that Michaeel Dorsey has always dreamed about the perfect girl but was too dumb to figure out that being a macho shithead was not the way to find her.  When he becomes "Dorothy Michaels" he wakes up to a whole new way of thinking.  Even the movie's signature songs, speaks (or sings) to this:

Okay, we all know the problems with this movie.  But maybe the biggest problem is the best part of it.  Mariel Hemingway as "Tracy."

If the "adults" in the film are trying to put themselves to sleep, in a way, by diverting themselves with trivial matters, then Tracy is the one who is awake and seeing things clearly.

For me, this movie sort of sums up everything I wanted to be at around the age of 14, when Manhattan came out. (except maybe sleeping with Woody Allen (sleeping with an older man would not have been out of the question (just saying); I didn't; but that doesn't mean I didn't want to...).

INTERIORS - 1978

Woody Allen again.  This movie should be Uber-Camp; and in some ways it is; but in most ways it's not.  Probably because of the unassailable acting from everyone involved.  I guess at it's core, it's about a family waking up to their own sonambulance, only when their narcissist mother goes to sleep.

Another movie fraught with sociological problems and misguided thinking, yes; but an enthralling entertainment from start to finish.  The entire thing plays like a dream.  Much of it set at night.  The Angie Dickinson character is pretty much a sex addict who likes to "cruise."  Cruising is not, I think, something that most women would do; that is, like a gay man might.  Back around this time you could find numerous places in a big city to wander around looking for sex; and yes, it could become addictive.  You might find yourself wandering through a park, engulfed in an erotic fugue only to emerge hours later; almost a kind of "missing time."  I think this movie utterly captures that feeling.  The famous museum scene; but also, well, nearly every scene in the movie has this dreamy quality:

So, this movie is like literally (and I know I overuse that word) about people taking sleeping pills.  One woman takes them and goes to sleep forever.  One takes them because she's too selfish to quit.  And the third takes them, in a way, so that she can wake up from them.  One of the best scenes in the movie, I think, is also one of it's campiest.  Starts at the 40 second mark:

This scene is so over the top melodramatic, it crosses into comedy...but then (and this is what I love about "camp") it comes full circle back to being emotionally moving; when she throws the pill bottle against the wall.  She's had an epiphany; a literal waking up.  Then she puts on a mink and puts her hair up and it gets campy again.
So, that's the roster of the "go-to" favs for me.
But back to Mr. Oreb and Sleeping Beauty, again.  In what little concrete I can find about his life, I came across this interesting monograph:

What really caught my eye in it, was this paragraph:

I don't think you could find a stronger corollary than alcoholism/sleep. 
There are a lot of non-Disney sketches floating around out there by Mr. Oreb, that seem to have been done on animation paper. So, at work. A lot of self-caricatures.  And it's very interesting to me what you can glean about him from these drawings.  It seems pretty clear he was into the ladies (but who knows, maybe he experimented "in college" (I mean, he was a left-handed artsy type):

And he was maybe a bit of a layabout...(a man after my own heart!):

I think it's pretty clear, like most artists, he knew exactly how attractive or not, he was (and it was NOT, not!):

Here's one he did that might or might not be him...and if it isn't, WHO IS IT!??!

OMG...I'm getting jealous over a deceased, straight man's drawing!  But my he was yar!:

Maybe there was more going on than meets the eye.  Why did he drink so much?  He was handsome, talented, successful, accomplished, employed at a prestigious company.  Ya gotta wonder.  What were those other "personal problems"?
He lived to be 74.  Not young...but not particularly old. 
I wish I could've known yah, but I wasn't even really born yet. But wherever you are now Tom, I hope you're still dreaming...

CFR   2/24/25

*"Werid" is a very weerd way to spell "weird."  But why isn't it "wierd"; you know, 'cuz of "i, before e..."?

MR. REIDY (CFR)
Thank you all so much for braving the earthquake and coming out tonight for this special event!   And because the quake caused several of our speakers to have to cancel, we are thankful that two representatives of Livingston, Gentry and Mishkin West could make it tonight to fill the gap, as it were.  Mr. Kip Wilson and Mr. Henry Desmond!
APPLAUSE

Henry Desmond and Kip Wilson of Livingston, Gentry and Mishkin (West)

CFR
Kip, if you'd like to say a word?
At this point, Mr. Wilson took the lectern and began to speak:
KIP WILSON (KW)
Thank you ladies and germs!  
SILENCE
(Taps microphone) Is this thing on?  Advertising!  What is it?  It's Ads, yes.  It's ver...maybe.  But it's definitely tising.  It always comes to tising...(Looks at note-cards, shuffles note-cards; note cards flutter out into audience).  Ads!  What's in an ad...an ad by any other name is a "spot."  Or a "clip"!  Or a "promo"!  An ad, by any other name might smell as sweet!  As sweet as new Squeezably soft Charvin toilet tissue!  Now, in new kiwi, banana and kumquat scents!  (SINGING) And Guacamole from Texaco! Mmmm-mmmm, that's good...as good as soup; because SOUP IS GOOD FOOD!  (Takes a sip of water)  And now I'd like to introduce my esteemed colleague, Mr. Henry Desmond, with his thoughts on all of this.  Henry...? (He CLAPS and the audience joins in.  A follow spot travels to stage left where the curtain is moving.  Kip takes another sip and then does a SPIT TAKE as a petite blonde woman haltingly walks on to the stage.  She's wearing a blue dress and high heels and carries a bone-hued handbag.  She shields her eyes from the light, stumbles around and then the heel snaps off her shoe and she goes down.  She finds the heel, puts it in her purse and crawls to the podium.  Mr. Wilson helps her up).

KW
(Bad stage whisper) Hen--Hildegard--what are you doing?  (Covers microphone-UNINTELLIGIBLE)...supposed to have the visuals...(UNINTELLIGIBLE)...are you out of your...(UNINTELLIGIBLE)...ladies and gentlepeople, I've just been informed by Mr. Desmond's sister that he got stuck in a crevasse on the 101 due to the earthquake, so she's filling in...(UNINTELLIGIBLE)--
HILDEGARD DESMOND (HD)
--cleaners lost my suit!  Oh, this is on...  His suit.  The cleaners lost his suit.  My brother's suit!  Right before he drove into that crevasse.  Ahhm, so I'll be helping out.  I helped him with his notes, so it'll be fine.  Uhhm, I believe we were supposed to have some visual material of some kind?
Mr. Reidy runs onto the stage with several posters.
CFR
They're right here!  Got 'em! One moment!  Bear with us!
He puts the posters on easels:

HD
Thank you Chrissy Baby.  So, aahhh...what do we have here?  Looks like a kid's book.  Kip, what do you make of this copy?
Mr. Wilson looks at artwork as a look of confusion crosses his face.
KW
Are these idea boards for Lucky Charms?
HD
What's a "gonotions"?  Sounds dirty.
At this point, Mr. Stephens of McMann and Tate came on stage carrying a martini glass and a cocktail shaker.  He placed the shaker on the podium, reached down and retrieved a jar of olives, put some in his glass and refilled it from the shaker.  He joined Mr. Wilson and Miss Desmond.
DARRIN STEPHENS (DS)
Irish fucking Shhhhhpring.  That's what that is!  I slaved over that goddamned account until I bled green. Green blood, green sweat, green tears!  Where is that son of a bitch Larry Tate?  Is he here?  Roll the goddamnned clip!

HD
Mr. Stephens, can I ask you something?
DS
Call me Darrin, honey...and can I just say that you're really a knockout, baby!
HD
(Blushing) Oh, well, awww...go on!
DS
You look like my ex-wife.  She left me for Larry Tate. Turns out, he was a witch too! What did you want to ask me sweet-cheeks? (Pinches her bottom).
HD
Ooooooh!  Easy there tiger...yeah, so, I always wondered when the man cuts open the soap, like, what's that supposed to prove?  
DS
Prove, baby?
KIP
I always wondered about that too Hen--Hildy!  Like, what does he mean by two deodorants?  Why does it have two deodorants?  Why would it need two deodorants?  Do the green and white colors have some scientific implication?  What does it mean?
At this point, Mr. Don Draper sauntered out onto the stage and leaned insouciantly against the podium, lit a Parliament cigarette and took a disinterested puff and exhaled with a small SIGH of ennui.
MR. DON DRAPER (DD)
Nothing.  It's a lot of something that adds up to nothing.  Or ads, if you prefer.
HD
Wow.  That's kind of deep.  In a shallow kind of way.
DD
​It's my speciality.  My other one was pseudo-science.  I kind of invented it.
CFR
Can I bum one of those?  That's my favorite brand!
DD
Sure, as a matter of fact, take a couple of cartons.
He reaches under podium and produces several cartons of Parliament cigarettes which he thrusts at Mr. Reidy, whose eyes light up like a pinball machine.
CFR
Wow, thank you Mr. Draper!  I believe you brought a clip with you.  (Mr. Draper nods ambiguously).  Roll the clip!

DS
Hey pal, I got news for you.  Howard McMann invented phony science--God rest his soul--and don't you forget it!
DD
Have another martini, Stephens.
DS
Thhhaaannk you.  I believe I will.  (To Miss Desmond)  You want one shhhweeetie?
HD
Okay.  I prefer mine with a twist--
DS
How about a cherry baby? (WINKS)
KIP
You know, it does my heart good to know that fake scientific explanations live on in our biz.  I particularly enjoyed this depiction of the human colon for Metamucil by Hearts and Science Agency.  Let's take a look!

DS
Why is the shit fluorescent green?  Do they have radiation poisoning?
HD
It's pretty, but chartreuse is really hard to wear.
DS
Come down to my suite baby...you won't have to wear anything!
CFR
Mr. Draper, can I just say that I loved your reality series, Mad Men?
DD
That was a drama, Chrissy Baby.  
CFR
Oh my gosh!  Really?  I thought it was real!  I gotta say, that actor they got to play you looks exactly like you.  And he's so good!
DD
I thought he was a ham.
CFR
No!  No, no, no!  One of my all time favorite moments in entertainment, ever, was the time he brought his wife to Howard Johnson's and she hated the orange sherbert.
DD
That actually never happened.
CFR
Regardless; there was a moment during the actor's reaction to what his wife was doing; which was, I suppose, rejecting his entire ethos; that for me sort of captured a haunting moment of humanism.  I would show a clip, but I can't find one...how about a GIF?
DS
We handled that account.  "Choosy mothers"?  That was me.  Larry Tate may say other wise.  Where is that son of a bitch?  Roll the clip!

CFR
​No, not Jif!  GIF!

Oh, I can't get the GIF to animate.  Oh well.  Technology, am I right?
DD
Technology only exists in order to sell more goods.
CFR
That is a bold statement Mr. Draper.  You seem somewhat jaded in regards to your occupation.
DD
And that's why my agency pulls in (REDACTED) dollars a year and has a storage closet full of Clios.
KW
What's a Clio?
DD
Religion?  Advertising is the opiate of the masses.
KW
Simmer down there Mr. Gray Flannel Suit. Some of us just want to make laxatives fun to think about.
HD
You know, Mr. Draper, I just realized that your show and Mr. Stephens's show are like the same show, except yours doesn't have witchcraft.  And it's an hour long.
DD
Pitch me.
HD
Well, here's a quick Powerpoint with a grid of your show and Mr. Stephens's show...*
At this point, a power-point comparison ensued, including opening titles of both shows:

CFR
Both feature figures floating above the New York skyline. Both are animated. Both end with the screen blacking out...if you play them both at start mark of 36 seconds, why, it's uncanny!
DD
I'm not disagreeing with you.  So what are these mock-ups on the easels?  Is this what I'm here to talk about?
CFR
Yeah.  What's your take?
DD
Well, they're clearly out of context; but I can give you my observations.  They strike me as illustrations from children's books; so the material is pitched to the kiddies or people who aren't necessarily kids; but not grown up either.  It's infantile.  And what's the text in the middle?  It doesn't make sense.  It's gobbledygook.  Is it Ireland?  Why are the clovers the size of dinner plates?
CFR
Let's all watch the extended commercial spot, shall we?
DD
Roll it.  I don't have all night.

DD
Hmmm.  Well, it has an unpleasant quality.  It seems to have nothing but disdain for the people I'm watching; if not complete revulsion and hatred.  The leitmotif of the mud makes me immediately think of shit; that these people are so backwards they actually dance and play in shit; which I'm pretty sure is the Freudian take to the letter, regarding infantilism.  These people are on the level of a donkey.  Actually lower than a donkey; or an ass, if you will.  They are barely capable of speech; and when they do speak, it's a kind of Pig Latin.  This made-up language is clearly making Gaelic the butt of some kind of joke.  Who made this?
CFR
The comapany's in house ad agency.  They were so enamored of their own work, they made a behind the scenes featurette and all sorts of supplemental material.
DD
You seem to have taken great offense to this.
CFR
I didn't at first; but the more I looked at it; the more offended I became.  I'm Irish.
DD
Oh, I'm sorry.  Just kidding.
DS
I have a cousin who's a leprechaun.  Did I mention my wife is a witch?
DD
Join the club.
CFR
I think what bothers me the most is the smug, self-satisfaction of the people that made it.  They kept talking about how the idea came about and then they never actually say where.

HD
People suffering in abject poverty and dancing in mud makes them laugh?
CFR
Their CCO talks about the correlation of things leading to ideas, like a song you heard ten years ago or a "little thing you read over here" and one day they come together and you have an idea.  But he and his staff are super cagey about mentioning specifically what those "little things" might be.

DD
Oh, it's called stealing...or creativity.  But then, all things have been said and done.  There is really nothing new under the sun...yet.  For humans, anyways.
CFR
That sounds a little dire.
DD
I calls 'em like I sees 'em.  I understand you do the same; that you feel you are often the creator of a lot of "little things" that get...shall we say...jacked?
CFR
Well, I did find it quite the coincidence that a recent screenplay I put out there into the Etherweb featured a music lesson where a guy couldn't play the uilleann pipes.  Just like the piper in the commercial.
DD
Well, they are the national bagpipes of Ireland.
CFR
I said it was a coincidence.

CFR
I think this image of one of the execs making the commercial kind of sums up what I think their attitude towards Ireland and it's culture was.  I think she's reacting to a sip of Guinness and yeah, it's not my favorite; but it's like the national drink of Ireland...so you think maybe they might've left that one on the proverbial cutting room floor.  And if she's reacting to something else; Ms. Kung is certainly welcome to rebut me in the comments section.  Or send me an email at [email protected] and I will print a retraction.  Or correction.  Or whatever. 

KW
Hey Henry, remember that weekend we stayed up for 72 hours, ideating Peronie's Pocket Pizza?
HD
I'm Hildy, Kip...

KP
Oh, right...you two just look so much alike...like identical cousins...
At this point EVERYONE on the stage lauched into a rendition of "Let's Get Together" from The Parent Trap, for some reason.

CFR
Wasn't that terrif, ladies and gentlefolk?

KW
Hildy, remember the moment when we figured out how to fold the pizza?  That EUREKA! moment?  Oh, the sweet smell of success!
DD
Pepperoni is the actual smell of success.  It's a pseudo-scientific fact.
DS
It's bacon, Bozo.  Why don't you hit the bricks, battle of the bulge?
HD
Yeah Kip, it was good times; that is, once we solved that lint problem.
DS
(To Ms. Desmond)  Speaking of bacon, babe...howz-bout you come down to my room and we can open up the mini-bar, wink, wink!
HD
Mr. Stephens, I'm not that kind of girl!
DD
(Holding out room key)  I'm in the Presidential Suite, gorgeous.
HD
Maybe I am that kind of girl!
Miss Desmond grabbed the key and was hot on the heels of the now EXITING Mr. Draper.
DD
(To Mr. Wilson) Care to join us?
KW
The more the merrier! (EXEUNT).
At this point Mr. Stephens grabbed his jar of olives and scurried after them.
DS
What about me?  I've got olives!
He exited, leaving Mr. Reidy alone in the room.  Mr. Reidy wandered over to the projector and picked up the remonte and pointed it at the screen.
CFR
It's uncanny...
*

This could go on for a while...
Meeting adjourned
CFR
I suppose I'll go ennuinate by the pool...
*SIGHS*

AMY POEHLER
Hello?
CHRIS REIDY
Oh, thank God Amy, you picked up!
AMY POEHLER
How did you get this number?
CHRIS REIDY
Tina gave it to me.
AP
Tina who?
CR
Listen, I lost my invite to the SNL 50th soiree; you gotta spot me a couple tix.
AP
Tina WHO?
CR
Louise!  Get over it.  I got your number, baby!  Now talk to me Aims!

AP
Don't call me that!
CR
Come on, you owe me one!
AP
How?
CR
Masshole-pact.  I'm calling in my chit.
AP
What the frig are you talking about?
CR
You were in this SNL sketch that I had to watch and your "Boston" accent was--well, let's just say Jimmy Fallon's was better than yours and Rachel Dratch's combined.  And he's from New York.
AP
Yeah, so?
CR
You and Rachel are both from Massachusetts.  So, actually, she owes me too.
AP
Owes you what?
CR
An apology.  For perpetrating grossly negligent and highly inaccurate Massachusetts stereotypes.  And that's what we're going to talk about...after you get me those tickets and we watch this sketch--
AP
Wait a--
SMASH CUT TO:

CR
Actually, Tina Fey's accent was better than everyone's; and she's from freakin' Philly.
AP
Yeah, whatever.  Okay, I'll make a deal, 'cuz I kinda get the Masshole-pact.  I'll listen to what you have to say; but there's no way I can get you tickets to the 50th gig.  Lorne lords over those things like the freakin' dragon from the Hobbits. Or Willy Wonka. I couldn't even get a "plus one."  Neither could Tina.  We both got "plus halfs" so we had to combine in order to take her husband.
CR
What about your ex-husband?
AP
What about him?
CR
Is he available...?
AP
Available for what?
CR
...you know...
AP
No, I'm sure I don't.
CR
Canadian stuff....you know...poutine and hockey and warm maple syrup drippin' all down a big ole' stack o' cakes and gravelly-voiced voice-overs; like when he does those Reese's commercials my chocolate melts in my hand, not in my mouth.
AP
What?
CR
He can get his peanut butter in my chocolate any day!
AP
You are out of--
SMASH CUT TO:

CR
See, now I must apologize.  My assessment of your ex-husband is completely based on STEREOTYPES of Canadians.
AP
He is a big hockey fan.  The Toronto Maple Leafs.
CR
Okay, well, I'm sure he has all his teeth.  And is probably extremely impolite.  And now it's time for a song break!
AP
NO!  Now this is getting entirely--
​SMASH CUT TO:

CR
That's hot.
AP
Who are you, Paris Hilton?  What's hot?
CR
The men of Pure Prairie League!  Didn't you want to like, do them all, back in the day?

AP
I was three years-old, so no.
CR
Don't you wanna do them all now, in this day?

AP
Do you know what I want to do?  
CR
No, what?
AP
I do not want to talk to you about who I want to do.  And I'm about to hang up if you don't get to the point.  You do understand, don't you?
CR
Yes, indeedy-do.  So, I wanted to talk to you about stereotyping, particularly in the realm of advertising and specifically in the case of this recent Squarspace Super Bowl commrecial that was based on the movie The Banshees of Inisherin; presumably, because it seems the people behind it are taking great pains not to reference the movie. By it's title anyways.  And maybe commercials in general, like this phone ad you did:

AP
That's a TV remote.
CR
Oh, my bad!  Hey wasn't that a Super Bowl commercial?
AP
Maybe.  From 2013.
CR
Let's take a look!
AP
Must--
SMASH CUT TO:

CR
See, now this is really interesting to  me.  You are clearly sexually harassing that poor young man by asking him about his comfort levels about the word "dongle," and asking him to read a lame porno novel to you. Now if it was the other way around, we'd never have heard the end of it. Of course, that was three years before "Hashtag: MeToo."  And it was also a good eleven years before Tina Fey did her first SuperB-commersh.  So you beat her by a decade.  Good on ya, Aims!
AP
Well, ya know...who's keeping score?
CR
And poor Tina got replaced by Miss Piggy this year.  There's an SNL sketch in there somewhere!
AP
Not if Tina has anything to say about it...
CR
Let's take a look!

AP
Why are we talking about commercials?
CR
Why shouldn't we?  You're in about as many commercials as you are programming.  I mean you famous people are all like total sluts when it comes to this.
AP
HOW DARE YOU!
CR
Hey, don't get your knickers in a wad.  I'm a slut too!  I would like totally be the filling in a Pure Prairie League sandwich; slather me in Hellman's baby; and yes, I'll have what she's having!
AP
Look, we all gotta butter our bread--
CR
And now, a word from our sponsor: Chiffon Margarine.  "If you think it's butter; but it's not: It's Chiffon!"

AP
Look, do you think I want to do commercials?  The whole paradigm has changed.  Nowadays, they want you to sign up for the commercials before they'll negotiate the actual work.
CR
Yeah, I get it Amy.  But that doesn't really make it any less crass that SNL is now actually producing legit commercials using sketches and characters from it's supposedly satirical show.
AP
It's all come full circle.  It shows how far we've come.
CR
Or fallen.
AP
Oh, aren't you all high and mighty.  You've done commercials.
CR
Yeah, but I'm not rich or famous.  I was just doing it the old fashioned way.  Don't even get me started on product placement.  We're even getting fucking products placed inside other commercials.  I wonder what David Lynch thought.
​(Smash cut gag retired)

CR
Like explain this to me Aims.  FOX has aired like three new episodes of The Simpsons this season and yet expects me to pretend they're still creating new programming and sit through three times as many commercials.  How does that work?  Maybe take a smaller paycheck Mr. President of DizzneyCo.  Like, I dont' find What Would You Do? actual TV programming.  Or Ameican Idol.  Or The Fucking Golden Bachelorette.
AP
Look, I've got to get ready for the 50th thing.  Get to the point of this Irish commercial already...
CR
Right, so, in my research, I've found that you're more or less an Irish Catholic girl; like me, an Irish Catholic boy.  You went to Boston College.  So did my dad!  Go Eagles!  You're from Burlington, Massachusetts.
AP
Yeah. I know.
CR
Come with me Amy.  Come with me....back through the mists of time...back to your childhood...my teenhood...back...back...back to the Burlington Mall in 1984.  The land of feathered hair and striped tube socks!
AP
Do I have to?
CR
YES!

AP
That was...fun?
CR
You know, speaking of stereotypes, my first thought when I watched that SNL "Boston Teens" video--well, first of all, those "teens" are not from Boston, they're from Lexington.  I mean, I'm from Saugus, not Boston.  So, when did "Boston" become a catchall term for anything from Massachusetts?  I'm sure that doesn't sit well with the fine folks out in Pittsfield!  Yeah, so, I was thinking...would Lexington really have skanks like that running around their high school?  And I assumed Lexington was on the tony side.  Like, monied.  Not that monied people can't be skanky, as we all know first hand nowadays.  So, I looked up Lexington and Lexington High School...

Now, I don't know who wrote the sketch; and by the way, shouldn't sketch writers get credits, like at least at the end of the show?  If I was a sketch writer, I'd be arbitrating for that.  I'm guessing Rachel Dratch, who was in the sketch and is from Lexington, had a hand in it.  And she went to Dartmouth...
AP
So, what are you saying?
CR
I'm saying that Rachel Dratch was more than likely light-years away from being the kind of girl she's playing; so isn't that kind of a cultural appropriation?  A sort of looking down one's nose at people of a lesser socio-economic position than oneself?
AP
You're making complete assumptions.
CR
Then as someone from Massachusetts, would you not agree that everyone in the sketch is a misinterpretation on a general level of people from Massachusetts?  Except maybe Gwyneth Pawltrow, who couldn't play a blue-collar skank the right way if her life depended on it?
AP
I would say it's not a "misrepresentation."
CR
Would you say it's a stereotype?
AP
Ahhh...yes.
CR
So, stereotypes are okay to play in comedy?
AP
You've backed me into a corner!
CR
Well, let's change the subject, then.  I understand you're into the Enneagram.
AP
Maybe...
CR
I'm a "9"!
AP
Oh, "The Peacemaker"?
CR
No.  My dongle.  It's nine inches!
AP
Tables turned, Sir.  Tables turned.  Well played.
CR
I kid.  Yes.  "The Peacemaker" or as it used to be called, "The Mediator."  The names seem to change from one chart to the next.

I was first "turned on" to The Ennegram back in the late 80's(!) by my friend Bob "The Guru" Cooley.  He's a self-described "7."  Here he is, back in the day: 

He's kinda-sorta famous now,  He wrote a book and has a dedicated business:

AP
So, why are you shilling for him?
CR
I'm not getting paid.  I just like to support people who were good to me during my life, if I can.
AP
Who are you, Mother Theresa?
CR
We should all be more like her.  So, I thought the Ennegram was rather uncanny in it's depiction of, what I at least recognized as myself.  What "Type" are you, Amy?
AP
Why should I tell you?
CR
I can just ask the Internet...oh, here it is...an "8"'; let's take a look!  Here you are talking about the Ennegram starting at the 4.40ish mark:

See, back in the day, day; we didn't have "tests" to figure out our type.  We had to read the whole friggin' book: the OG tome by Helen Palmer.

AP
Great.  You were the first.  Let's all bow down.
CR
Now Amy, your inherent 8 Lucy VanPeltness is coming out.  Let's keep this civil.
AP
Fair enough.  So, the commercial about Ireland or whatever it is?
CR 
It's a commercial set in rural Ireland that just makes the Irish seem like morons who literally enjoy dancing in mud and talking to donkeys.  
AP
Seriously?
CR
Yes.  Like, that's it.  They can't even speak properly.
AP
Oh, come on.  I'm sure it's adorable.  We Irish can't help but be adorable.
CR
Barry Keoghan is the star of it.
AP
Oh.  Okay.  Maybe not.  But I really do have to run now...
CR
Okay, well, I'll just write another blog about it.  Thanks for not hanging up on me.
AP
You're welcome, I guess.
CR
Oh, one more thing.
AP
Make it fast.
CR
I've been to the Burlington Mall once in my life.  In 1975.  And I remember because I happened to be staying with cousins, as my parents and my dad's mother and father had gone to Ireland for a trip.  And I remember being at the mall with my Auntie Kay.
AP
Okay...?
CR
What if you were there that day?
AP
Well, I would've been about three-years old...why would I have been there?
CR
Maybe one of your parents simply had to have the new Pure Prairie League album and they lugged you down there to get it!

Or perhaps the 45.  'Memba buying 45's?

AP
Actually, I do.
CR
Good times.  Okay, I'll let you go.  Have fun and tell Tina I said "hi"!  And I'll play you out on a song, how about that?
AP
Sure.  Whatever.
CR
Ciao for now!
CLICK

So, this is how Irish I am.  All my grandparents were all born there.  I have citizenship.  I have an Irish passport.  I have a museum worthy Irish sized penis ;)  My mother took Irish step-dancing classes in her middle-age before Lord of the Dance entered the lexicon.  I think Michael Flatley, Celtic Thunder and Celtic Woman are all corny as shite.  I avoid any rom-com or really any movie set in Ireland on principle.  There are a lot more instruments in Ireland than the fiddle. I typically find Irish actors annoying, with few exceptions (you know who you are).  My first serious boyfriend was Irish.  From Ireland.  Here he is, back in the day:

When I took this picture, we were no longer "boyfriends" but we were still good friends.  He was a lovely person.  Sweet as pie.  We're out of touch now; as I can't find any presence of him on social media; but I did run into him fairly recently in Boston.  I took this picture of him in the summer of 1988.  I know it was the summer of 1988 because we'd gone to see Married to the Mob that day and that's when that movie came out. August, actually. It's funny the things you remember.* And I suppose we must chalk this up to good old synchronicity, because that movie dealt heavily in stereotypes, which we are going to discuss here.  But, you know, stereotypes in a fun way!
Which brings us to...

That was the first iteration of Mr. Charms.  Here's a typical commercial from when I was a kid:

The Blue Diamonds were a relatively new add at the time, and I think the first.  1975ish?  God, I'm old.  But ya know, I don't feel old.  I'm pretty much the same person I was probably before 1975 even!  I have the mind of a child.  But that's for another blog.  Speaking of children...
Okay, so in BOI, Barry Keoghan plays "Dominic Kearney."  Although he's never named as such, I think we're to assume he's essaying "The Village Idiot.'  Or, "The Village Eedgit" as they might say back on the old sod.  Now, is "idiot" an acceptable term nowadays for people like Dominic?  I don't know.  I'll have to do a little research.  In the meantime, let's watch some scenes of the Village Idiot from David Lean's Ryan's Daughter!

This 1970 film was a moderate success; but it did produce a hit song!  Here's Liza Minnelli singing it as only she could:

And yes, I've seen Ryan's Daughter.  In it's original run.  When I was five years old.  All three hours of it at the Camp Lejeune Drive-In; and I do remember quite a lot of it.  As an adult cinephile, I really should revisit it.  And more synchronicity: it was filmed mostly in Dingle, Ireland, where I set most of the scenes in Ireland in my screenplay HEARTFIGHT.  Why?  Well, I thought the name was funny and afforded the story some humor; I didn't know Ryan's Daughter was filmed there;  but here we are.  Here's another clip-packet, showcasing the stunning imagery.  If I'm not mistaken, it was the last film of the Golden Age of Hollywood that was filmed in 70 millimeter...

But doesn't any term that is applied to people that are what other people don't want to be; come to be "stigmatized."  Or, what's the word I'm looking for?  I'm having a senior brain flatulence incidence.  "Derogatory."  I think that's the word I'm looking for.  
RESET ALERT * RETHINK ALERT * BACK-UP, REVERSE THAT ALERT!
So often I approach my own thinking from a humorous point of view.  And so often, that impulse drives me forward towards more serious thinking.  Like, do I really give a feck about Squarespace's advertising campaign for the Superbowl?  No.  Not really.  And yet, there it is.  I've seen it and my initial response is the typical Irish response; particularly when it comes to stereotypical depictions of the Irish.  It's kind of an ironic chuckle and a dismissal of the "Well, I'm jest goin' too let that little aspersion roll off me back like Guinness offa spit-shined bar top," reaction.  We Irish don't care.  We don't care about the constant depictions of our people as big drinkers if not fall down drunks.  We don't care about the usual characterizations of our being stupid.  Or bloodthirsty.  Or charmingly melancholic.  We could care less that our society is often depicted as having Village Idiots like that's a real thing and practically an official title.  Why, we actually elect the Village Idiot.  We nominate them.  We have Village Idiot Pageants; often sending Ireland's leading Village Idiot to things like the Miss Universe Contest.  Ireland never wins; but we're too stupid to care!
But are we?
I'm not sure.  Maybe we should ask Barry Keoghan.  And I'm not here to trash Mr. Keoghan; but he was the star of the commercial (and it wasn't just one commercial, it was entire junket of media material featuring the BOI homage).  He did get paid to do it.  Got paid to play a Village Idiot.  Even amping up the idiocy of the character for the commercials.  Mr. Keoghan is Irish, natch.  Born and raised on the old sod.  So, I guess that makes it okay that he's kind of doing blackface as Irishface; which maybe we should call, Greenface?  Yes, I like that:
GREENFACE (TM/REG./PAT.PEND/ALL RIGHTS RESERVED). 
​And maybe as humorous as we Irish think it is, maybe the time has come to rethink the whole charming, drunken, stupid leprechaun thing.
So, this is what I propose.  I'm going to split this discussion into two blogs.  This first one will be the "serious" part; and then the second one will be the "fun/funny" part.  You know, the gay part!

*I have no recall as to how John hurt his leg.  Did he fall off a ladder?

Back to Mr. Keoghan.
Let me just be honest.  Do I like Mr. Keoghan as a performer?  Well, I can't say I don't.  But I also can't say I do.  He has thus far made a career out of playing extremely strange, off-putting, weird, menacing and altogether creepy young men.  Now, as such, he's been a rousing success; but I would like to see him change things up a bit; perhaps by playing, oh I don't know, anyone who doesn't drink bathtub butt-water, hump gravesites and get molested by his creepy dad.  Like, actual dad.  Not "daddy."  Father.  Although, I must say, I really enjoyed when he examined Colin Farrell's armpits!  I'm still not sure what the feck this scene was in the movie for; but I'm not gonna say it didn't make me tingle in certain ways.  Oh, wait a second...wasn't he playing a sixteen year-old?  Whoopsie...my bad!  Colin's pits is what made me tingle...let's get that straight, right now, for feck's sake, ya eedgit!  And let's have a look-see!

Mr. Mills, who is English, won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar in 1970 for that performance.  He, it turns out, is the father of Juliet and Hayley Mills.  Hayley, as you may recall, played Susan and Sharon, the identical twins in the original version of The Parent Trap.  Their mother in that movie was played by the famously Irish Maureen O'Hara. One of my all time favorite movies.  Let's take a look!

Hayley's real life sister, Juliet, is married to Maxwell Caulfield.  They were clients of a bank my husband used to work for.  Maxwell's movie debut was with Michelle Pfeiffer in her movie debut: Grease 2.  Grease 2 and Grease, were both Paramount flicks.  I worked at Paramount with Linda Correa, whose favorite movie was Grease. Michelle Pfeiffer was in Married to the Mob, the movie I saw with my Irish pal...and so on...and so on...

And that brings us directly back to TV commercials.
You know what I find ironic?  No?  Well, I'll tell you.  I find it ironic that the one award that is bestowed in this country and it's subsequent awards ceremony (and that's an assumption; I'm not even really sure there is one) that is not televised to the general public, are the Clios.  I suppose the major function of the mysterious Clio Awards is to bestow stauettes of excellence to advertisers and the commercials they concoct for primarily TV and/or visual media (motion). In other words, awards for TV commercials; those little 30, 15 and sometimes 60 second "spots" that we are exposed to some...hmmmm...how many could it possibly be?

Wow.  I had no idea.  Doesn't it seem as though commercials just appear out of the blue?  It's really the commercials that all the money is poured into but the industry doesn't really want us to know how they go about things.  But today, through the magic of the interwebmachine, we can find out.  For example, we can find out how the Squarespace BOI commercials package came about by reading an article from AdAge, online!

Well, that is, if you want to pay the paywall.  What does AdWeek have to say?  Well, you can read this brief article by Ms. Lucinda Southern, in full, via this link:
www.adweek.com/creativity/super-bowl-squarespace-irish/

But I must point out this quote pull:

No!  Of course we don't care.  The Irish don't deserve our care.  The Irish are stupid, drunken dolts, remember?  They can't even play their instruments. Who gives a feck about the Irish?  Not even the Irish, apparently; the eedgits!
One of the shorter "commercialettes", I suppose we could call it, I found particularly...well...horrid.  It's called "The Piper."  Let's take a look:

Not only  is this like stomach-churningly offensive; it is bad advertising.  The point is lost.  Am I wrong?  So the idea is that a website makes an undertaking "real."  So, is "the piper" supposed to find a website in order to learn how to play or is he supposed to build a website in order to find people to give lessons to?  Based on the image on the laptop, it seems to be the latter (option 2...I feckin' hate former and latter).  So if it is...then why can't he already play the pipes?
Thusly, I think we need some answers from Squarespace "CCO" (apparently they have an "in-house" ad agency) Mr. David Lee; answers I'm not sure we get in the OG article, as I feckin' refuse to pay feckin' AdWeek in order to read one article. Here's Mr. Lee:

Looks like a super hip dude!  Let's hear what he has to say...about what he does...

So, Mr. Lee is apparently the head honcho at Squarespace Advertising; so, I think we can reasonably assert that he is ultimately responsible for the Squarespace "A Tale As Old As Websites" campaign.  So therefore, I think we can reasonably put forth some queries, quandries and conundrums for this quorum of one.  Now, I don't actually expect answers from Mr. Lee, although he is certainly welcome and encouraged to respond to this (there is a "comments" section on these blogs); I will be posing more hypothetical questions.  A dialectical of the mind, if you will.  You get it.
Mr. Lee is a Canadian.
Oh, before we go on, you might like to read my saucy take on Canada here (for FULL DISCLOSURAL purposes):​www.christopherfreidy.com/blog/no-canada

And he's Korean.  There are like tons of articles and interviews with him.  I kept hitting paywalls.  Maybe you'll have better luck.  Here's one from AdWeek or AdAge or AdWhut?:

The more I learn about you, Mr. Lee; the more surprised, if not shocked, I become that you created this abysmal ad campaign.  It seems the antithesis of everything I can glean about you from headlines and quote pulls.  Okay, let me run this up the flagpole and see if you salute, as they say in the ad game...
All kidding and levity aside.
The Banshees of Inisherin, which I feel we can all agree is the basis of your ad campaing, was set in 1923.  What was going on in Korea in 1923?  Well, from my research, not a lot of good.  About as much fun as it must've been in Ireland. Let's transpose the Tale as Old as Laptops or Websites or whatever it's called scenario, to early 20th century Korea.  Already sounds like a bad idea, doesn't it?

​EXT. BARREN FIELD -DAY
The camera pans across the depressing mud-gray mud where two Korean farmers are attempting to plow their field with a crude construction of sticks:

And I'm just going to stop right there; because there is simply no way to make this humorous.  To even try to.  And I wouldn't want to.
I mean, I just have to ask, Mr. Lee; did you even see The Banshees of Inishiren?  And you might say, oh, well, the entire thing was some kind of allegory about the Irish Civil War; it wasn't mean to be taken literally.  And I might say, well, sure.  Okay.  But you do realize that Barry Keoghan's character was sexually molested by his own father who was also a drunk, right?  And I might say, sure, the picture was full of high falutin' metaphor; but I might also say that if one might, as I did, take the endeavor at face value; I might wonder why a movie wherein a man cuts off his own fingers to torment his friend for no reason is a comedy.  And by the way, do you know why The Bear is considered a comedy, because I sure can't figure it out.  Maybe I'm missing something.  Maybe I'm missing something with your commercials.
Nah.
No.  The commercials are utterly mean spirited and that's what I dislike most about them.
But Chris, you might say, don't you think you're overreacting?  It's just a commercial.  And I might say: "But is it though?"  I might even forgive the crummy portrayl of my people.  I might even have been somewhat amused if Mr. Keoghan had been directed to rein in the brain-deadedness with a little charm.  A little less passive-aggressive nastiness.  Why is he throwing things at people?  Why is he destroying property?  Do you know how much it would've cost to reglaze a window of that size in 1923 Ireland?  Neither do I; but I'm sure the people depicted in the commercial would've been hard pressed to even find newspaper to stuff the hole with. I guess they might've used mud.  Or goose dung.  Or donkey shite.  Is the man dancing in the background of "The Piper" spot the back-up Village Idiot?  It seems really easy to get nominated for awards for playing Village Idiots.  I hope both he and Mr. Keoghan get nominated for Clios! for Best Supporting Village Idiot and Best Supporting, Supporting Village Idiot!
​Why weren't Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson in it?  I mean, you must've had to get some kind of permission or thumbs up from the writer-director of the movie, Mr. McDonagh.  Did he sign off on this?  What about Disney, whose film it ultimately is?  They were okay with it?  Yeah, they gave us Darby O'Gill and the Little People, so they probably were fine with it.  But DOGATLP did have the fine, strapping, upstanding Irishman Sean Connery! And who knew Sean Connery could sing!??!

Oh, right.  He couldn't.  And he's Scottish.
Feckin' shite.

Please see: Breaking Ad: A Roundtable Discussion, for the fun part!

CFR   2/12/25
ADDENDUM:
Or could he?

So, I thought I'd get a few thoughts in before the Academy Awards are given out.  I've seen half of the Best Picture nominees: The Brutalist, Wicked, Conclave, A Complete Unknown and Dune: Part 2.
THOUGHTS:
Why does Dune keep getting remade?  And why hasn't there been a restored director's cut of David Lynch's Dune and now that he's gone, will there ever be one?  Lynch's version is by far my favorite.  Yes, the Villeneuve version is more technically superior in every way; but nothing can top Lynch's still startlingly strange touches in his version.  This scene still disturbs me both for it's simple disturbing quality and it's strange beauty.

I've been watching Elle Fanning in The Great and I'm simply blown away by how good she is.  Like, Meryl Streep good.  In A Complete Unknown she made me cry in this scene:

I think she should've gotten a "nom" for her performance in it.
In Wicked, I thought there was too much CGI.  I was eagerly awaiting "Defying Gravity" and the movie kept stopping the song for dialogue, which I thought diminished the power of it.  I mean, it was like: "Let her sing the song already!"  Maybe I'm wrong?

Conclave was enjoyable and for me, informative.  I mean I was raised Catholic and I knew next to nothing about the Pope-ularity Picks.  My husband had this comment: "Best Costume Design?  That's what they all wear anyways!"  He has a point.  I hope Isabella wins; she just should.  She's one of those actresses that is so good, all the time, you kind of don't notice the incredible work she does.  It's her time!

And finally, we come to The Brutalist.  We misread the run time and thought it ran for 2 hours and 35 minutes; so when the built in 15 minute intermission came, I was like: "Why?"  I mean, I thought it was neat, and I'm all for throwback cinema conventions, no matter how pretentious.  But then I thought: "Why does this get an intermission?  It's not that much longer than a typical Marvel flick; or John Wick Part 4."  So, that happened.  But I'm sad to say that from nearly the very start of the film (well, actually it kind of was); I was completely taken out of the story by the upside down shot of The Statue of Liberty.  Like, first of all, why was it upside down?  Whose POV was that?  Adrien Brody's?  Someone behind him?  Did they trip and end up on their head?  Like, what?  

But what really bugged me was her torch.  Her torch flame was made of glass and copper latticework, designed by the man who sculpted Mount Rushmore.  It was the version that would've been there in 1947.  So, it should've looked like this, that is, if the shot was at dusk:

Early in the film, when Brody is reunited with his cousin at the bus station, I was emotionally moved.  But it was the only time.

I found the falling out between the two to be a screenwriting contrivance, particularly when Alessandro Nivola (Masshole, yay!) was throwing his cousin at his wife.  And then Mr. Nivola disappeared from the movie, leaving a hole in his wake that the movie never recovers from.  And then it was kind of, The Perils of Laszlo.  And why was Brody's character named after the lunatic who went after The Pieta with a hammer?  If this was some kind of metaphor, it was lost on me.
And I just gotta ask: was that Mr. Brody's actual penis or a prosthetic that we get glimpses of in the "hand-job" scene?  And if it was a prosthetic, why wasn't the film nominated for Best Make-Up?  And I also gotta ask, why isn't Best Hairstyling a completely separate category.  It's an entirely different undertaking than make-up and I would say one of the MOST IMPORTANT categories.  Because when a movie gets the HAIR wrong; boy, you sure notice it!

Are you the blonde you became a blonde to be?

That is all.
Reidy out.
​
CFR   2/5/25