I think it's appropriate at this point, with heaven on our minds to pause and watch this video; in which, heaven is queried and remains typically silent.  And I think a lot of us are feeling nostalgic right about now; particularly those of us born in the mid to late 60's.

Who would've thought that it would be Rob Lowe to put all of this into perspective for us.  To have the most open hearted take on it all?  And we'll close on this with some words from Mr. Lowe; from The Hotel New Hampshire of all things.
I went to see the B-52s a couple of years ago when they were on their 40th anniversary tour.  The opening act was OMD.  I can now say that I have heard not just If You Leave; but OMD's ENTIRE  catalogue; LIVE AND IN CONCERT.  They actually performed longer than the B's did.  But, they saved the best for last.  That song.  From that movie.  And listening to it again, nearly forty years after it came out; I can't help but hear it in a different way.  "If you leave..."  Well, at this point in my life, several of my friends have already left; and I can't help but think more about when it will be my turn.  But I don't want to get morbid.  I want to be like Rob Lowe and keep passing the open windows!  That's a line from The Hotel New Hampshire, which I brought up earlier.  It is a truly strange movie.  But it was a truly strange novel.  And what was stranger was that they managed to put in nearly every strange detail from the book into the movie; incredibly faithfully; at just under two hours!  And now, some synchronous threads appear...
A young actress named Jennifer Dundas played both Rob Lowe's sister in The Hotel New Hampshire and Andrew McCarthy's sister in Heaven Help Us. I always thought she was also the weird girl from the 80's Pepsi commercials.  Remember her?  She was a household name for five minutes.  God, was Pepsi not the most 80's soft drink ever?  Even now, they've gone back to the 80's.  What was that girls' name?  Halley something?  Let me look her up.  We'll be back, after this word from Coke...

Oh yeah.  Hallie Kate Eisenberg.  More late 90's.  Funny how the memory works.  Disqualified!  Here's a Pepsi commercial about 1987.  Funny, I kinda think Summer 2024 looks exactly like Summer 1987.

I think by now we all now nothing lasts forever.
But speaking of heaven.  I LOVED this movie.  Another...wait for it...Andrew McCarthy starrer.  Heaven Help Us.  Am I the only one who remembers this?  It was one of the best of that whole cycle of movies, IMHO.  And I went to an inner-city, all boys Catholic school.

I remember when I saw Heaven Help Us (again, on cable TV) I recall marvelling at the idea that it was set in the year I was born, 1965.  I mean, when you're sixteen, seventeen; nearly twenty years ago may have been a hundred.  Wow, was I really born in what looks like olden times?  And now that was fortyish years ago.  Not to be cliche, but I love a good cliche; it really does start flying by at a startling rate after a certain age.  I also marvelled at how remarkably similar this "olden times" story was to my own school experience; just with different hair and shoes.  Speaking of heaven; let's look at this clip of Donna Summer from The Midnight Special singing one of her lesser known songs, "Heaven Knows."

And now Donna is in heaven.  She was 30 here, in 1978.  I'm sure she felt immortal.  That fellah she's dueting with is...hmmm, who is he...let me find out.  Please hold...

That is one Mr. Joe "Bean" Esposito.  And all I have to say is Woof!  Now he's 76, God love him! 

That is sage advice from The Bean!  He still performs.  And I hope that when I get to be his age, God willing, I'll still be embracing my inner child.  We should all be Disco Sallies in this world.  Memba her?  Well, here she is at a disco gathering at WGBH in Boston, the local PBS station.  How I missed this, mystifies!

But let's get back on topic.
About nine years after the above videos...

Interesting to look at the above.  There's Mr. McCarthy, right next to Mr. Nelson; about to compete.  That poster for From the Hip?  Awful.  You can't even see Judd's face.  No wonder no one went to see it.  People probably thought it was a sequel to Oh Heavenly Dog.  True Stories?  When was the last time you watched that?  And he's just had a hit again with Stop Making Sense.  Crazy!  Neon Maniacs?  What?  Light of Day?  Joan Jett was in a movie?  Michael J. Fox made a movie with Joan Jett?  The Bedroom Window?  Excellent movie; but no one remembers it but me.  Starred Steve Guttenberg(?) and Elizabeth McGovern.  You may recall Elizabeth was Timothy Hutton's leading lady in Ordinary People.  No one even thought to think of her for The Brat Pack.  Who'dve guessed she'd end up in The Downton Abbey Pack?
So what's the point?  The point is, is that nobody can predict what the future holds. Who could've predicted that The Golden Child would be Eddie Murphy's first major stinkeroonie flop?  Or that Steve Guttenberg would turn in some of his best work in a movie destined to be forgotten?  Or that the hot superstar off the red hot success of Back to the Future would be in a movie that didn't see the light of day for very long?  Or that Andrew McCarthy would be in a movie with the future Samantha from Sex and the City (her greatest success) that would much, much later be one of his films that people remembered, rewatched and looked back on with kindness?  And as much as I like to look back; should we look back and say: this happened because of this?  Or this caused this?  Maybe "that" or "this" caused some things we didn't really consider; and couldn't consider until some time had passed.
Mr. McCarthy says in Brats that he's not a sentimentalist.  I think he's wrong.  I think, perhaps, he's tried to convince himself he isn't. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made Brats.  There's a scene in Brats where he's talking to Demi Moore and it's weirdly like some deleted scene from St. Elmo's Fire, where Demi's character attempts to shrink him (the "you're gay but you just haven't realized it yet" scene; oh, yeah, and you're in love with Judd Nelson."  And who wasn't?  Am I right people?!!?).

I'd forgotten about the above scene, with Judd barefoot in boxers (yes, I'm rewatching it on Hulu and dear Lord it's all coming back) on a ladder(!).  I highly doubt that costume was Judd's choice for the scene.  Methinks it may have been Mr. Schumacher's.  And what exactly is he doing?  Fixing the blinds?  But I digress.  Let's look at the "you're gay" scene! Oh, "Alex" (Oh, sorry, "Alec") is Judd's character.

You know, I have to say; that is a very nicely staged, photographed and acted scene. And it's one of the better written ones (dialogue wise).  The movie is full of them.  Unfortunately, the sum of the parts does not add up to a good movie. It is a stupid movie with really awful characters; and trust me, I'm giving (and have given) it chance after to chance to convince me otherwise. I was grilling my husband on his recollections of it. He said: "I remember it being really whiny."  I think he hit the nail on the head.
In Brats, when Mr. McCarthy is talking to Ms. Moore it begins to take on the feeling of a therapy session.  He even refers to her as "Dr. Demi."  As someone who deals with OCD and its' anxiety producing side effects, I couldn't help but feel some catharsis when Andrew mentioned his nearly constant feeling of, and I'm paraphrasing here, a pair of scissors in the back of his neck.  Was that it?  He also mentions in passing, more than once, his habit of going off to get double vodkas to avoid social situations.  Or that he used to do this at places like The Hamburger Hamlet (burgers and Pepsi are becoming a theme here.  And Burger King.  Weird!).

I couldn't help but think about the original "Brat Pack" article at this point.  In it, the author, Mr. Blum, attributes several quotes to Pack members; but cagily does not specifiy who said them--which, if you ask me, is a real dick move. It's just trying to stir up shit.  Someone says of Andrew McCarthy: "He plays all his roles with too much of the same intensity.  I don't think he'll make it."  Well, whoever said it was wrong, since he most decidedly "made it."  But they were also right too.  His intensity usually was pitched somewhere at a 10 or 11.  Even in comedies, where he gave some of the tightest smiles in cinema history.  I used to wonder about it at the time; because I liked him and thus, I was rooting for him.  But he definitely seemed to have a sort of heaviness of spirit that came through.  And maybe that did affect his career.  And yes, watching Brats, that quality still came through.  A kind of pervasive melancholy.  A tangible anxiety.  Perhaps Mr. McCarthy has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder.  I don't know.  I'm not a liscensed therapist; but if he hasn't sought some kind of therapy, perhaps he should.  Or perhaps it's because he's Irish.  We have these problems by default.  In any event, maybe Ms. Moore could point him in the right direction.  Or maybe he really is gay and still hasn't accepted it.  Ron?  Paging Ron the Decorator!​

Back in 1986, because I had missed seeing Molly Ringwald on the Big Screen in Sixteen Candles; I was determined to see her on the Big Screen in Pretty In Pink.  I mean, I had seen her on the Big Screen in The Breakfast Club; but that movie was so serious.  So, not-much-fun.  But; by the time Pretty In Pink was released, I was like a junior in college.  I remember being sort of embarrassed that I wanted to see it; and dragged my friend along, the same one that I had so mockingly made fun of St. Elmo's Fire with.  Siskel and Ebert had given it a thumbs down.  But still, I didn't care!  Oh, no, wait; Roger liked it!  Maybe that had something to do with why I went.

Movies are important to me.  I can often remember where I saw something and who I saw it with.  In the case of Pretty In Pink, it was at the Sack Charles 1-2-3 theater in downtown Boston.  I had never been there before.  I didn't know it at the time; but it had, like, the Biggest Movie Screen in Boston!  In a way, Pretty In Pink became an immersive experience.  It was sort of like seeing it in IMAX before there was IMAX.  And the sound was amaze-balls, which was great, as that flick had some rad tuneage!

I'm so glad I swallowed my embarrassment and went to see it; because now I have a cherished memory.  Incidentally, I can remember the other two movies I saw here.  The 1989 re-release of the restored director's cut of Lawrence of Arabia and also, The Last Emperor in it's original run.  All three amazing experiences!  Mr. McCarthy, you're in pretty good company, I'd say.​
​And clearly, Mr. McCarthy is a kind and forgiving soul.  He ended up embracing Mr. Blum, his OG tormentor.  I don't know Andrew, I think your first impulse about him was right.  Don't get suckered in.  That dude is trouble.  He's recently written an article defending his original stance that you are a brat.  I have not read it.  I probably should and probably will; oh, but not now.
So, let's pack it in Brats. I think I've come to an understanding.  And perhaps you've come to an understanding.  And let's hear what Rob Lowe had to say then.  Rob Lowe the Would Be Soothsayer.  Who knew?

FIN

For further reading, this was an interesting peruse:tremblesighwonder.com/2022/01/23/if-mannequin-is-so-bad-why-have-you-seen-it-so-many-times-my-spirited-defense-of-a-humpback-classic/

​CFR   6/30/24

WARNING: This blog contains adult themes and frank interpretations of sexual stuff.  Viewer Discretion is Advised!
In this blog I'd like to talk about my own personal experiences with The Brat Pack and 80's teen movies, John Hughes, etc.  Now, if we're talking about Molly Ringwald as a sort of Nexus Point for all of this; and I certainly am, because it was she that I gravitated to; most identified with--then we have to consider (or I have to consider) Sixteen Candles as the Nexus Point movie.  Not, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which was arguably the best of all the 80's teen movies. It was certainly, I think, the most honest. The one that perhaps got closest to the teen experience, both in and out of high school.  And I actually was in high school when Fast Times came out in 1982.  Well, I was on summer break between my junior and senior year when it was released that August.  And again, I did not see it at the theater; but rather when it ran all day, soon after, on cable.  When Sixteen Candles was released in May of 1984, I was most definitely aware of it.  You see, it starred Molly Ringwald who I  had already become an ardent fan of via perhaps one of the more obscure avenues, one could, other than the first season of The Facts of Life.  A movie called Tempest, which came out in 1982 and ran on cable for what seemed forever.

It also starred Susan Sarandon, another favorite and definite draw with that movie.  You know, to this day, I don't think I've made it all the way through.  I forget how it ends.  But certain lines have stuck in my head. 'Frinstance: "...we've got goats!  And rocks!  And chickens!" and "Looney Tunes!!!  You're loonie toonie, loonie toonie (starts singing it)":  I forgot about this scene; but someone out there gets it:

Hey, John Casavettes may have been a pompous ass; but he knew talent when he saw it!
When Sixteen Candles came out in May of '84, as I've mentioned, I was aware and did want to see it; but I was a little busy that May.  I was graduating from high school myself.  And so were a lot of my friends.  I was laying plans for my future, so going to the movies got pushed to the back burner.  And that was a case where I didn't see the movie on cable every day, because it probably would've been on HBO that fall and I was busy commuting to college and working several jobs.  I did, however, win a Sixteen Candles t-shirt at a bar trivia contest later that year.  And I'm delighted to see a person can obtain one for a reasonable price at the mere click of a button!

And I'm not happy to report that I never really wore the shirt.  I was a freshman in college.  Molly and Sixteen Candles was literally a little too sixteenish.  A little too chick-flick.  A little too high school.  It also may have been a little too small.  In any event, I cut the figures off the t-shirt and turned Molly into a pine-scented sachet.  I'm not sure what happened to Anthony Michael Hall; but Michael Schoeffling remained in my possession and is now featured in what I call one of my "Fetish Books."  

Mr. Schoeffling apparently walked away from the whole Hollywood thing before he could even be considered for The Brat Pack.  I do recall him turning up in Longtime Companion as a promiscuous gay dude before he disappeared into the wilds of Pennsylvania to make furniture.  And I respect that!  Nowadays he's harder to pin down than Greta Garbo.

You may now be curious as to what a "Fetish Book" is.  Well, I'll tell you.  But first, let's talk about Bridgid Berlin and her "C**K BOOK"

Bridgid Berlin ak.a. Bridget Polk was a protege of Andy Warhol's and one of his Factory habitues.  I think it was in the book Edie: An American Biography that I read about her and her "C*ck Book."  Apparently it was a book in which she would make "prints" of men's genitals.  No detail was given as to how this was achieved; but I did find this photo of what must be the book:

Now, as to whether or not that is a "print" of Jean Michel Basquiat's (I'm assuming) genitals or a doodle of male genitals in general; I do not know.  But reading of this inspired me to create my own similar books.  And I had no idea how similar they might be until I saw this photo today, which clearly shows the book contains collage work.  My books are pure collage.  There are no "prints" of actual male genitals within.  There are photographs of male genitals and the pages do contain some fairly pornographic material; but keeping it lighthearted as well as erotic is what my goal with them is.  They more came about as my habit of clipping and ripping images I find "arousing" in some way started to get out of control; so I decided to start slapping them into books.  It's very random, but the end results are always revealing (at least to me) in some way.  It's kind of an erotic Rorschach of my mind.  Here is a random spread(!) from one of my books:

This may seem random and disconnected from The Brat Pack; but is it?  Was not Molly Ringwald going to play Edie Sedgwick for Warren Beatty back in the day?  I recall talk of that; perhaps an article in Interview magazine?  

Why didn't they do her up as Edie?  I think she would've been great; and there has still to be the definitive movie about her.  Edie's voice was not what you would immediately expect; a challenge for any actress.  But I think Molly could've nailed it!  Let's take a listen!

In any event, I plan to make another Molly Ringwald pine scented sachet; and perhaps a Michael Schoeffling one.  And oh, what the heck: Anthony Michael Hall too!  Who knows, maybe I'll do a whole set of Breakfast Club sachets!  I bet Emilio Estevez never dreamed he'd be freshening some dudes underwear drawer!

And now, I would like to look at some of the darker elements of the whole 80's/Teen/Brat Pack/John Hughes/Etc. Phenomenon.  Rob Lowe, in 1984, was in another club.  Let's call it "The Jail Bait Club."  This club involved actors who were playing teens (and they might've been actual teens; but were probably in their early 20's playing teens) who found themselves in sexual entanglements with people who were much older than they.  For Rob, it was The Hotel New Hampshire.  In that movie, which was full of wildly inapporpriate teenage behavior; Rob "loses it" to a chambermaid, essayed by the late Anita Morris.

Perhaps a teen-age boy "losing it" to an older woman is/was not that uncommon.  But in this movie, his siblings are along for the ride, actively helping him get laid.  I don't know about you; but I barely talked to my siblings about such matters, let alone had them reconnoitering for me.
We'll get back to The Jail Bait Bunch in a second.  I thought I should I mention that I also have "Female" Fetish Books (or one, anyways); you know, 'cuz what's good for the gander is good for the goose, right.  The Lady Fetish Book, however, is decidedly more PG than X.  PG-13, anyways.  Let's take a look!

See, now I'm just noticing the interesting visual play of the four ladies on the right.  This was not planned.  

LIST OF 80'S FILMS FEATURING INAPPROPRIATE "ROMANTIC" LIASONS BETWEEN VERY YOUNG PEOPLE AND PEOPLE WAY OLDER THAN THEM OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD AND IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
The Hotel New Hampshire (1984)
Fast Times At Ridgemont Hight (1982)
The Breakfast Club (1985)
Private Lessons (1981)
My Tutor (1983)
Vacation (1983)
Pretty In Pink (1986)
Little Darlings (1980)
The Last American Virgin (1982)
Homework (1982)
Private Resort (1985)
Porky's (1981)

Not all of these relationships were consummated.  For example, in Pretty In Pink, I'm thinking of the scene where Jon Cryer kisses Annie Potts.  But in a lot of them, the relationships were consummated.  Or, for example, you might say: "The Breakfast Club?  Where was the inappropriate relationship in that one?"  And I might mention Ally Sheedy's casual admittance that she "nailed" her "shrink."  Was she lying?  Does it matter?  It was in the movie. Why was Mr. Vernon alone with John Bender in a broom closet; well past the perimeter of the boy's personal space, talking about his "dick"?  But he was.  This-- adults in the personal spaces of teenagers--was clearly a theme of the day.  And we can't say it wasn't prurient.  Which brings us to John Hughes.

I don't know...
It kinda seems more like Mr. Vernon wants to get schtupped than engage in fisticuffs.  Am I wrong?  You know, I love John Hughes' oeuvre; but as I've watched them repeatedly over the years, I can't help but notice a LOT of glaring, Huh? moments.  And there are a lot of them and they're...well...just flat out creepy.  A lot having to do with inter-genarational sex and incest.  I'm sorry to have to say this; but it's true.  Shall we point some of them out?  Well, we've come this far.  There's no point in going back now.  And look, I know John Hughes is no longer here and can't defend himself; but I welcome anyone with an opposing viewpoint/opinion/rebuttal to contact me or leave comments.  I'm all about spirited debate!
How about in Vacation when Jane Krakowski, who was 14 at the time, talks about how her daddy says she's the best kisser?  Or when Anthony Michael Hall's cousin invites him to "bop his baloney."?  And then, in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when Ferris pretends to be Mia Sara's dad and picks her up at school and then French kisses her as the principal watches and makes a gross comment about incest? Or when Mia Sara comes on to Ferris' dad from a taxi? Or in The Breakfast Club when we get a shot of Molly Rigwald's panties from Judd Nelson's P.O.V. up her skirt; knowing that Molly protested this scene and then he went ahead and filmed it anyways with a what we can only call a "crotch double."  Or the scene in Sixteeen Candles that was originally written to have Molly's father's character ask her why she wasn't wearing panties?  Or when Molly's grandmother grabs her breasts.  Or when Jake Ryan boasts he can "violate" his girlfriend any way or time he pleases? Or in Weird Science where we see a 24 year-old actress passionately kiss a 15 year-old boy?  I mean, adults stood around and watched that being filmed.  Or in Home Alone 2 when Kevin spies on his uncle in the shower and his uncle calls him a pervert?  I mean, don't even get me started on the first two Home Alone movies, where two middle-aged men are obsessed with--and I'm not sure, but I think the word they use is "nail"--in nailing a little boy.  Or biting his fingers off(!) in any event.  I mean, what was going on John Hughes?  I'll just leave it there; because if I go on, it won't be pretty (in pink, or otherwise); and my mama always said: "If you can't say anything nice..."
And full disclosure, my book 83 in the Shade features an inappropriate relationship between two under-age boys and an older man.  But, in my defense (I hope), it is not played for casual "teen sex comedy" laffs.
Moving on!
In the post John Hughes teen-comedy movie landscape of the late 80's; "The Brat Pack" was finding themselves in a bit of a quandry.  They were growing up.  However, they were already "grown up" when they were in those movies.  Most of them were in their 20's playing teens.  Perhaps the only time they actually were the right age for their parts was in St. Elmo's Fire.  But after that one, there were problems.  Particularly for Judd Nelson.  His first post Brat Pack solo flight, resting-squarely-on-his-shoulders-movie was called From the Hip.  Let's take a look:

First mistake.  Agreeing to play a character with a nick-name.  Second mistake, that nick-name is "Stormy."  Third mistake, that nick-name plays off your last name, "Weathers."  Fourth mistake; playing into your "bad boy" persona.  This was the point at which Judd needed to play a "nice guy."  We'd already seen him play a raft of "street smart" "wise guys" and "bad boy" "smart alecks" and "drop out" "stoners."  Now we had him playing yet another brash, "Young Turk."  It was one "Young Turk"  too many.  But can you blame him?  I mean, look at the pedigree in those credits!  Or maybe not...
Yes, David E. Kelley; but before he was David E. Kelley.  Bob Clark, the man who brought us at least three genre classics: A Christmas Story, Porky's and Black Christmas (taalk about eclectic!).  The always dependable Elizabeth Perkins. Darren McGavin!  Mr. Hand from Fast Times!  Consummate actor's actor, John Hurt.  I mean, I can see why Judd jumped at the chance; but Chance can be a fickle goddess; and From the Hip needed a hip replacement.  Again, I saw this one on cable.  It was not a pleasant film (let alone "funny").  It was agressively unpleasant, as you can rather glean from the opening scene in the trailer where "Stormy" rakes his fingers over a chalkboard.  An apt methaphor for the entire undertaking.  The one thing I remembered about the movie; and perhaps this is due to my ornithological leanings; was that "Stormy" had what appeared to be an active colony of birds outside his bedroom window.  This is never explained in the movie.  Weird?  Yes.  Judd kind of quadrupled down on the "bad boy" thing with his next film and it did no one, particularly him, any favors.  He signed on to play a serial killer in Relentless.  Why?  It was as though Judd wanted to kill his own career; and he pretty much joined the world of missing persons after this movie.  It was almost like he did it on purpose; snuffing out the remaining good will between him and the audience.  As I've said; it always seemed as though he didn't really want to be there for his career.  When he showed up a million years later as Brooke Shields' boss on a sitcom, I don't know about you; but you coulda knocked me over with a feather.

The sitcom, Suddenly Susan was enough of a success to have run for four seasons on NBC.  But Judd remains elusive.  I found it rather funny that in Brats, Mr. McCarthy kept mentioning that Mr. Nelson was in an "undisclosed location."  I mean, was he in witness protection?  Had he become a CIA operative?  Was he somewhere in Pennsylvania, woodworking with Michael Schoeffling?  It was just so Judd!  Or was he just somewhere in Maine; parts of which are not just "undisclosed" but yet to be discovered by man?  Here's a screen shot of Judd talking about Maine, where he's from, to the History Channel.

I don't think he has any idea how naturally cute and charming he is.  Bad boy?  Try Nice Jewish Boy!  He reminds me of my high school track coach/advanced math teacher, Mr. Dakin.  I've got a great story about him; but let's watch Judd's adorable interview, if I can link it here properly.

You know that dream you have when you're taking a test and you don't know the answers or you don't have a pencil or whatever; and everyone around you is furiously scribbling and you're just like WTF and frozen, staring at the wall clock?  Yeah, well; it actually happened to me.  I mean actually.  As in, for real.  I was a fairly intelligent kid and so was placed in AP classes.  But all of my classes, including math, were advanced.  By the time I got to be a senior and we were taking our final exam in whatever branch of math it was by that point, I had ZERO clue.  Negative zero (is there such a thing?  Did I just invent a new math term!??!).  I remember looking around.  I couldn't get beyond the first question.  All the other boys had calculators.  I remember thinking: "We could bring calculators to this?"  Not that it would've mattered.  And, I'm sitting there.  I literally cannot answer the questions.  So, I flipped the papers over to the blank side and did what I excelled at: writing.  And I wrote my teacher, Mr. Dakin a letter.  I remember I opened it with: "Mr. Dakin, this is not a joke..." and I proceeded to explain my predicament.  Yes, I was terrified; but I'd also had something of an epiphany, sitting there.  All my anxiety about math, which had plagued me since kindergarten, evaporated.  I was done and I embraced my doneness (or againstness, as Demi Moore might say).  Mr. Dakin, wonderful kind man that he was, allowed me to write a paper about a mathematician of my choice.  I picked M.C. Escher, who was also an amazing artist, and thus passed the class.  Everyone should be more like Mr. Dakin.

My old friend Paul was from Maine.  I think he's there now, somewhere in an undisclosed location.  You don't meet a lot of people from Maine.  It's one of those states where the inhabitants don't leave much.  And end up going back to (too), I imagine.

I wonder if Paul and Judd know one another.  Because everybody from Maine, does, right?  I mean, Pepperidge Farm remembers!

Please see the next and final(?) blog: Heaven Knows What Happens Now: Brats and Us: Part 5.

CFR   6/28/24

I know people love The Lost Boys.  I think they're going to remake it.  Let's not even begin to ask why.  But, could we point to it and say that it was, if anything was, the ultimate Joel Schumacher film, if such a thing exists?  I saw this one back in the day too.  Again, when it lived and lived again over and over every day, five or six times a day on cable after it had it's initial theatrical run.  And might we ask, was it not simply The Goonies all over again, with vampires?  I think we can be sure of one thing.  It's decidedly in that group of 80's movies that everyone remembers.  That and that Mr. Schumacher sure loved back-lighting and wind fans.  

Hhhhhmmmmm....

Based on what I've seen of the work of Mr. Schumacher, I can't say that I was moved emotionally in any kind of way.  Perhaps excited by visual stimuli, which his work was brimming over with.  Lots of slick, pretty eye-candy.  Pumped up editing.  "Hot Button" social issues treated in a sensationalistic way. Trying too hard camp. And so on.  The Lost Boys featured several of the young actors who were considered part of The Brat Pack; but it's getting to be 1987 now, and anyone in and of The Brat Pack is only post Brat Pack or Brat Pack Adjacent.  Besides, really, "The Brat Pack" was a Pop-cultural blip anyways.  I was there, in the mid-80's, paying attention.  No one was using the term in any kind of serious way.  No one was saying, "Hey, let's go see the latest Brat Pack movie!"  Maybe, just maybe, people would say: "Hey, let's go see Molly Ringwald's latest movie!"  Or, infintesimally more possible: "You wanna go see that new Matthew Broderick picture?"
So, let's figure out, just exactly who was in The Brat Pack and who was just lumped in after the fact, simply by dint of being young, having perhaps played a teenager whilst in your 20's in the 80's or having appeared in directly or with someone who had appeared in a movie with Ms. Ringwald.  A John Hughes movie, of which she was in three.

THE OFFICIAL BRAT PACK ACCORDING TO NEW YORK MAGAZINE'S ARTICLE BY MR. DAVID BLUM FROM JUNE 10TH, 1985:

Rob Lowe
Emilio Estevez
Judd Nelson
Tom Cruise
Timothy Hutton
Matt Dillon
Nicolas Cage
Sean Penn
Matthew Broderick
Matthew Modine
Kevin Bacon
Harry Dean Stanton(?)
Andrew McCarthy(?)
Clayton Rohner(?)

Mentioned merely in "girlfriend capacity"
Melissa Gilbert
Demi Moore

Mr. McCarthy is barely mentioned in the article.  And when he is, it's as a New York based actor who is also in St. Elmo's Fire.  He is clearly positioned as outside of and not actually in The Brat Pack.  This is interesting to note, as it now seems that Mr. McCarthy was the one actor most deeply affected and effected by the entire article, when, in fact, the article takes pains to point out he actually isn't in The Brat Pack.

THE BRAT PACK MEMBERS BY ASSOCIATION OR FELLOW TRAVELLERS, IF YOU WILL
Now, I will be interpreting this list via my own recollection and perception as a member of the general public.

Molly Ringwald
Anthony Michael Hall
Matthew Broderick
Andrew McCarthy
Jon Cryer
Emilio Estevez
James Spader
Lea Thompson
Michael J. Fox
Mia Sara
Jennifer Jason Leigh
C. Thomas Howell
Ralph Macchio
Elizabeth Shue
Ally Sheedy
Judge Reinhold
Phoebe Cates
Jami Gertz
(Names subject to change...)
Now let's get our pink yarn and see just how many of these folks, named and otherwise, we can connect to Molly Ringwald.  But first, we have to go back to Brooke Shields.  Why?  Because Susan Sarandon played her mother. Twice.

But before we get to that; I have not included Tom Cruise in my personal assessment of who was actually in The Brat Pack.  Nor have I included Judd Nelson.  Nor, Matt Dillon. Nor, Sean Penn.  Nor, a lot of other people.  But with those four in particular...  Cruise was never in a John Hughes movie or really part of an ensemble after TAPS, which I don't think anyone considers a Brat Pack movie (or really any movie Timothy Hutton was in; winning the Oscar that early automatically excluded him). Risky Business, although about a teenager, was an extremely adult movie.  I mean, Rebecca DeMornay's lady triangle made an appearance.  Rated R.  Not easily teen accessible. Judd Nelson never seemed like he even wanted to be there; on a set or in front of a camera.  He never seemed like a teenager, either.  He never seemed like anything less than the 25 year-old he was in The Breakfast Club.  In St. Elmo's Fire he's not just phoning it in, he's phoning it out.  He seems like an apparition.  Vaporous.  Never fully committed; even corporeally.  I think that's why he never became a Big Star (although he's one of my favorites).  Matt Dillon never seemed to emerge with a definitive persona.  He was too cameleonic.  It made him a better actor; but not a better teen star (not neccessarily a bad thing).  Sean Penn was all over the map too.  In Bad Boys he was too convincing as a thug.  In Fast Times, too convincing as a dunce.  There was nothing for the public to hold on to.  He also suffered from the whole: "I'm too good for this, acting is so corny, I want to be alone, being a movie star is beneath me" business.  Brat Pack card rescinded.  Robert Downey Jr., who really should have been in the brat pack (and indeed did and does seem the brattiest of the bunch); and despite having been in a John Hughes movie (a small part in Weird Science); never was.  He was just too all over the map.  Never came across as a teen; more like a 55 year-old who'd been around the block more than thrice.  No Brat stamp for him.
Back to Sue Sarandon.  The idea here is that we connect Molly Ringwald, who I think is The Nexus Point for all things 20th Century Teenage Movie Phenomenology, to anyone involved in any way with any of this.  So let's go back first, to Jodie Foster (who, as I mentioned, I feel started all this.  She was the OG modern movie teen); and see if we can connect her to Molly with as few dots as possible.

At first I was afraid I couldn't do it.  I was petrified...but then with some not so prolonged meditation; I was able to do it with an absolute minimum of dots.  Molly was in a TV movie called Surviving, which also starred Ellen Burstyn.  Ellen, of course, was in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore which featured Jodie.  Surviving was a rather harrowing affair.  Most decidedly not a teen comedy. I think it was the best thing Molly did from that period, dramatically speaking. It also featured Zach Galligan; another teen from this time period, who, for whatever reason, never made it into any pack.  Kind of disappeared.  Why?  He was as good and as good looking as any of the other boys he orbited.  Big hit movie with Gremlins.  Who knows why these things work the way they do.

MOLLY RINGWALD AS NEXUS POINT RE: 1980'S YOUTH CINEMA:
APPEARED DIRCTLY IN SAME FILM AS MOLLY:
Andrew McCarthy
Judd Nelson
Anthony Michael Hall
Robert Downey Jr. 
Jon Cryer
Ally Sheedy
Emilio Estevez
Zach Galligan
James Spader
Jami Gertz
John Cusack
Joan Cusack
Gedde Watanabe
Alexa Kenin
Ben Stiller
MOLLY ENCOUNTERS OF THE SECOND AND THIRD KIND:
Brooke Shields: Starred with Susan Sarandon in two films; Sarandon appeared in Tempest (1982) with Molly.
Christopher Atkins: Blue Lagoon with Shields, Shields/Sarandon/Ringwald.
Michael J. Fox: Starred with Lea Thompson in Back to the Future; Thompson starred in All the Right Moves with Tom Cruise; Cruise was in Endless Love with Brooke Shields/Sarandon/Ringwald. Or a shorter version: Ringwald/Galligan/Cates/Fox.
BUT CAN WE CONNECT MOLLY TO KEVIN BACON; AND IF SO, WHAT IS THE SHORTEST WAY?
Sure!  Marsha Mason played Molly's mom in Surviving and Kevin was in Only When I Laugh, which also starred Kristy McNichol.
And we could do this all day; because if we can connect Molly to Kevin this easily; then we can connect Molly to literally every movie actor on the Planet Earth!
So, perhaps being included in The Brat Pack was not the curse that Mr. McCarthy seems to have thought it was.  Maybe being named as part of that club was actually beneficial to his career.  I mean, after having been named thusly (sort of) and his reaction being "Oh, fuck..." he did go on to make Pretty In Pink with Molly which, for whatever reason; and I think arguably, is the one "Brat Pack" movie that is the most remembered.  The most beloved.  The most rewatched.  Why?  We've established everyone was kind of too old for their roles.  So, why?  Perhaps because it's based on Cinderella; source material that has proven itself ageless?  I think that might have something to do with it.  But nothing lasts forever, and the 80's teen movie had to come to an end as well.  But it's not like Hollywood didn't stop trying until at least the early 90's.  But wasn't Heathers kind of the stake in the heart of The Brat Pack and everything it implied?
Yes.
And here is where I think we come to a fearful misstep in the careers of Molly Ringwald and Mr. McCarthy.  A movie called Fresh Horses that was pretty much a remake of Pretty In Pink, by way of Tennessee Williams, with all the fun drained away.

It was a setback that probably would've killed most careers; but in this case, it didn't.  In fact, in Mr. McCarthy's case, he had yet another hit film with Weekend at Bernie's.  Say what you will about that; but a hit is a hit.  A moderate hit.  And now it's achieved cult status.  So what's the problemo, Andy?  Oh, and let us not forget Mannequin also from 1987; another case of a moderate hit at the time becoming a well regarded "cult" hit.  Mr. McCarthy, I would say you were in a shit-ton of movies back in the day and several of them have stood the test of time.  I would say, by anyone's estimation, that if only you're still here to talk about and get a "Brat Pack" documentary; that you ended up way more ahead of the game than most.
I never felt that Demi Moore was in The Brat Pack, even though she traversed those spheres and was mentioned in the OG article.  Maybe it was because I'd already been watching her on General Hospital for a good two years before she started showing up in movies.  And she played a reporter, so I automatically thought of her as someone older.  And she always did seem older than the rest of her peers. Perhaps because she had the smokey voice of a 40 year-old 1940's film noir chanteuse. On GH she played ace reporter "Jackie Templeton."  Let's take a look!

And speaking of setbacks...
And I don't want to pile on here, but I think this needs to be examined, since we're looking at all of this...we need to examine the following, a clear attempt to maintain a distance from John Hughes and The Brat Pack:

Full disclosure, I have never seen Wisdom in its entirety.  And I am basing my following comments on recollections from nearly forty years ago, based mostly on what I remember about the film's marketing and publicity.  And I bring it up here because in Brats, a visit is made to the abode of Mr. Estevez by Mr. McCarthy.  That Mr. Estevez agreed to be on camera was something of a surprise, as he has famously refused to have anything to do with anything from his past: e.g.: running commentary on the Blu Ray of Repo Man, let alone the Blu Ray of 17 Going On Nowhere, an afterschool special he made early in his career (you can watch it in its entirety on Youtube; from a show called Insight from 1980.  That show was like super intense!).  And you know, I recall going to see Repo Man in the theater, which everyone was going nuts over at the time.  I was like, huh?  I don't get it...
But obviously, Mr. Estevez had bigger plans than being in The Brat Pack or silly teen movies.  I mean, we all know who his dad is, one of the most Super Intense Actors of his generation.  And then he went on to become the surrogate President of the United States.  I mean, is it any surprise Mr. Estevez had huge aspirations?  It's interesting to read the original New York magazine article that was originally supposed to be a profile of just Emilio; so, in a way, we can kind of lay The Brat Pack at his feet.  Mr. Blum, the author, goes out of his way to not just short shame Emilio; but paint him as cheap and shallow; devoting several paragraphs to Emilio's attempts to get him and his friends into a Westwood movie theater for free and invite author Jay McInerney out to a club and then not speak to him.  And btw, who hangs out in Westwood?  I mean, if you didn't attend UCLA?  Maybe that was a SoCal dude thing.  And you'll really feel old when Emilio goes running around Westwood to find a payphone to make a call!  Good times!
Emilio appearing in Brats, it seems to me, has only one function.  To apologize to Andrew for shutting down a movie they were going to make together after the article came out.  That's how much he wanted no part of it.  And now, he clearly (still) feels guilty about it.  And, really, he probably did kill the movie, had that power; because for whatever reason, at 23 and an untested filmmaker; he was given free reign/rein and a substantial budget to make Wisdom, a movie he wrote, directed and starred in right after St. Elmo's Fire.  Even considering Hollywood's long standing embrace of nepotism, it's rather astounding that Mr. Estevez was afforded that opportunity.  Particularly as the premise of the movie was based on a type-font, which Mr. Estevez has openly admitted.  A type-font you ask?  A type-font, Chris?  Well, maybe not a type-font; but a word.  That one word, WISDOM.  I paraphrase, but he said the word "wisdom" came into his head and he saw it on a movie screen and thought it was "cool" or whatever and then sort of reverse engineered the movie around that.  And you can clearly see that in this trailer, which features the word "wisdom" and other words in the same font.  

You can't say he didn't have grandes cojones en su cajones. I mean, the sheer chutzpah of isolating your last name like that and that of your paramour.  Like: GABLE...LOMBARD...GONE.    And he also managed to channel one of his dad's first movies...

It's always fascinating, I think, to put something like Wisdom in context.  Like what was out at the same time it was.

So, we can only wonder what if.  What if the movie Emilio and Andrew were supposed to make together had happened?  Well, yes; it might've been the biggest, most successful film of both of their careers.  And it also might have made WISDOM look like Citizen Kane.  And speaking of Citizen Kane, particularly looking at Wisdom as the would-be work of an auteur, perhaps only someone like Orson Welles could get away with writing, directing and starring in his first movie.  But even he had proven himself in radio first.  My advice to anyone finding themselves in the position to write, direct and star in their own movie.  DON'T.  Or, pick two and make sure one isn't "star."  Putting yourself in front of the camera of a movie you've written and you're directing can only come across as a "vanity project."  Only a once in a generation kind of talent can do this.  We can't all be Woody Allen.  But, Mr. Estevez continues to make movies; both behind and in front of the camera.  And may I suggest, Emilio, that you take a swing at a teen-age comedy?  Perhaps you're now the Principal of Shermer High School and find yourself one Saturday baby-sitting a bunch of Gen Alphas?  Because, really, when you think about it, the cycle is due for a comeback.  Perhaps Andrew Could be in it.  He's now the grown son of Mr. Vernon and the two of you are at loggerheads as to how to deal with these glued to their screen, well, brats.  Hey, I think we're on to something here.  We could call it, The Uber-Eats Club.

So, I'll be wrapping this up (hopefully) in the next installment.  So please see:
Andrew, The Brat Pack and Me et.al. Part 4
Ciao!

CFR   6/26/24

So, I finally read the infamous "Brat Pack" article from New York magazine from 1985.  It didn't take long.  It was one of those "5 minute reads" as the kids are calling it nowadays.  Here it is, in a nutshell (although it already is a nutshell):

Emilio Estevez is the President of "The Brat Pack," a super clever phrase that I've (author David Blum) invented which I'm going to drop over and over.  Emilio likes to go to clubs with Rob Lowe and Judd Nelson and hang out in Westwood, eat pizza and get into movies for free. The End.  

Really, that's it.  And it really is kind of a hatchet job.  I mean, is it supposed to be some kind of revelation?  Oh, what? Newly famous, newly minted movie stars, early 20 year-old guys like to party, check out girls and get stuff for free?  Wow.  Thank you, New York magazine and Mr. Blum for finally unveiling the truth!  I mean, for such a non-starter article; it certainly started something.  That term, anyways.  The Brat Pack.  Yes, the term was bandied about for much of 1985 particularly in the days leading up to, during and after the release of St. Elmo's Fire.  Let's talk a little about St. Elmo's Fire, shall we?  Oh, do we have to Chris?  Yes, I feel it is germane to all of this. Whatever "this" is.  Well, what is this, Chris?  I guess it's an examination of Pop Culture moment that refuses to be forgotten?  Okay, sure.  Let's go with that.
So, St. Elmo's Fire.  The movie.  And yes, I guess we have to include the song and it's accompanying video by Mr. John Parr.  Just learned he was/is British.  Who knew?  Full disclosure.  Had a crush on him.  One of the first blokes to embrace male nipple love.  Let's take a look!  (Around the 2.00 mark):

Hot!  So why did they pick a Brit to sing what became an anthem about American kids.  Then again, were they kids anymore?  They never really were kids, even when they were playing kids.  They were like in their early 20's.  Almost their mid-20's.  Mr. McCarthy was like 25ish when he was playing Blane in Pretty and Pink.  Cripes, James Spader was pushing 30 when he played "Steff McKee" (and who knew that was his last name?).  Let's take a look!

Team Duckie?  Team Blane?  How about Team Steff?  He was the one Andie really should've been with.  Someone to give her a run for her money with dry sarcasm and wit.  They clearly had the most chemistry.  ASTROLOGY ASIDE: Molly Ringwald and James Spader, both Aquarii.  Let's see what Harvey Sid has to say!

And really, can we just be honest here for a moment.  Get Real?  Team Duckie?  Did anyone for a single second of that movie think that Duckie was "straight"?  Sorry Jon Cryer.  Sorry "Duckie Dale."  Methinks you crushed just as hard on Blane as Andie did.  Maybe even more so.  No "straight" male teen ever said: "Let's plow!" and "...that ensemble is volcanic."
But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Back to St. Elmo's Fire.  And how lazy was New York magazine?  They couldn't be bothered to send a photographer to Los Angeles for dedicated photos for their cover story?  They used outtakes from the movie poster photo shoot?  Yeah they did.  Perhaps Columbia Pictures should be held responsible for some of the fall-out?
​So, let's all have a wheat grass smoothie,  watch the official movie tie-in video and all meet back here later!

Before we explore what is the video to "Man In Motion: The Theme Song From St. Elmo's Fire" (or whatever it is) can I first just say something?  And I'm probably not the first to say this (I mean, my husband first pointed this out to me).  Is Friends not simply St. Elmo's Fire staged as a sitcom?  I mean think about it.  Not too hard.  But think about it.  Ross is the Judd Nelson character.  Emilio Estevez is Joey.  Andrew McCarthy is Chandler.  Ally Sheedy is Monica.  Demi Moore is Phoebe and Mare Winningham is Rachael. Or maybe Rob Lowe is Joey.  I mean, you can play around with it; but there it is.  

Gee, do you think maybe there was a Lowenbrau tie-in?  And what the heck happened to that brand of brew?  Do they even make it anymore?
In the video; and this is surprising because these things were usually just clips from the movie as the Rock Star du Jour played the song; we have the entire cast from the film appearing in what can only be looked upon as supplemental material to the actual film.  Part of the "canon" of St. Elmo's Fire, if you will.  And I will.  As I can't imagine that very many humans in the world today, on the planet earth, are concerned with the canon of St. Elmo's Fire.  But I am, and thus I feel a responsibility; even though (full disclosure) I was never a fan of the movie.  At least a fan in the sense that I thought it was good in a traditional way.  I did enjoy it.  In fact, I very much enjoyed making fun of it with a friend, as we recognized the film's (full disclosure) resounding vapidity.  But, you know, resounding vapidity in a good way!  I mean come on...Rob Lowe as a saxophonist? I mean, I could see him as a sex-a-phoner...
Gosh, remember how popular the saxophone was in the 80's!  It really enjoyed a renaissance in the Big 80's; maybe even more so than the Big Band 40's.  Let's take a look!

I'm sorry Rob.  I love you.  But I can't even pretend to pretend that you're actually playing the sax here.  Now, here is what I think is the ne plus ultra of saxophoning from the 80's.

But you know; someone out there is going to have to be concerned with the canon of St. Elmo's Fire if they really do make a sequel, which is an idea being floated right now.  Of course the original co-writer/director of the movie, Joel Schumacher is no longer with us.  Oh, what to make of Mr. Schumacher?  Well, for one thing, he designed the costumes for one of my all time favorite movies.  Woody Allen's Interiors.  I don't think better use was ever made of the colors beige, gray and olive drab in American Cinema.  I'm serious!  Let's take a look!

Back to the video for the St. Elmo's theme song.  So, we see the cast of actors from the movie, presumably in character, gazing into the front window of Central Perk--err--St. Elmo's bar.  But what's this?  Is the place deserted?  It sure looks like it, based on the fact that there's nothing inside and the actors looking in have looks of pensive concern on their faces.  Oh, and I guess that "Out of Business" sign of the window rather points to this.  Checkered tablecloths litter the floor.  Judd Nelson looks particularly bummed at the 29 second mark.  But wait a second.  Let's pretend it's 1985 and we're watching MTV and this video comes on.  As it's promotional, it would be airing probably a good month before the movie is released.  So, in watching it, we have to extrapolate a few things.  Since we go from a dissolve of the cast in caps and gowns to them standing outside the defunct bar, we can assume the movie is about them and that perhaps this is some bar at which they congregated.  Or a restaurant, since it doesn't say "bar" or "cocktails" on the signage.  And since there's no way can have seen the movie at this point, we have to also extrapolate that this bar being closed figures into the plot of the movie.  But in hindsight, we recall that the bar does not close in the movie.  So, it's a visual metaphor for something.  Something we can't possibly know without having seen the movie.  Who is the man inside, singing?  Is he a homeless person?  This bar seems that it has closed down a long time ago, long enough ago for people to feel comfortable breaking and entering and lighting fires inside steel drums.  Then, this group of young, attractively, expensively dressed young people decide to go inside this abandoned place; apparently to smoke cigarettes, which, is fair enough, since we saw that there was a torrential downpour at the beginning of the video.  Then we see scenes from the movie.  Are they reminiscing about the past?  We can only assume that.  And then they hang out and listen to the man sing about men in motion and men doing things and persevering and prevailing and nothing about women, even though three of them are clearly women.  I guess since this is becoming way more of a deep dive into St. Elmo's Fire than anyone wanted; I suppose we should check out the official trailer.

PSEUDO-ASTROLOGICAL IMPLICATIONS:
Let's break down the main cast of St. Elmo's Fire by astrological signs, for no good reason; perhaps for some filler and maybe for some uncanny bits of Universal universality.  And these are the signs of the actual actors.
Judd Nelson as "Alec Newbary":   SAGITTARIUS
Ally Sheedy as "Leslie Hunter":   GEMINI
Emilio Estevez as "Kirby Keger":   TAURUS
Mare Winningham as "Wendy Beamish":   TAURUS
Andrew McCarthy as "Kevin Dolenz":   SAGITTARIUS
Demi Moore as "Jules":   SCORPIO
Rob Lowe as "Billy Hicks":   PISCES
Now see, we already have some interesting patterns forming here.  We've got two Sagittarius' and two Taurus'.  We've also got Ally Sheedy, who is a Gemini, playing a character sexually/romantically involved with the two Sagittarius characters.  Gemini, is the twins, if you will recall.  And Sagittarius is the balancing sign of Gemini.  Gives an interesting dynamic to the very dynamics of the plot, doesn't it?  Coincidence?  You tell me, Universe.  But can we ask, why doesn't Demi's character "Jules" have a last name?  Was she supposed to not have a last name?  Was she doing a kind of "Cher" or "Charo" or "Prince" type thing.  I mean, that would've made a kind of sense, as that was quite the 80's thing to do; and her character sort of epitomized the whole 80's zeitgeist dynamic.  It was quite popular with the gays.  I recall several acquaintances renaming themselves with single name monikers.  This guy named, like Kevin Jones renamed himself "Abraxis."  It was a thing.  Yes, Demi's "Jules" might very well have been on the cover of a Duran Duran LP.

And isn't it nice to know that they've found Rio after all these years?  But that's for another blog.  I wonder if Patrick Nagel was gay?  I just looked it up.  He probably wasn't.  But it didn't keep me from making assumptions; much like Jules made assumptions about Mr. McCarthy's character, Kevin, in the movie.  You see, all of these plot points regarding the movie are coming back to me as I write about it.  These things are unbidden; but God help me, they're there.  Still stuck in my subconscious.  How many effing times did I watch it?  Which brings me to this plot point, and now I have to vent about it.  And it's sad, because the movie's director and co-writer is responsible for it.  Perhaps you recall the early 80's.  There weren't just the films coming out(!) about teens; but also about gay people.  It was right after Cruising and just before AIDS.  It was like 1982, pretty much.  There were a handful of movies about gay people that seriously examined gay life and didn't treat gays as freaks and worthy of derision and death.  Making Love comes to mind.  And Personal Best, a movie which seems to have been completely forgotten.  I mean, we could probably look at Can't Stop the Music (1980) as a pro-gay movie.  Not a very good one; but definitely a "pro" one.  But once AIDS came along, that all got dashed on the rocks of fortune.  There was a gay backlash in films.  We didn't just go back to square one, we went back to the 50's.
Recalling the plot of St. Elmo's Fire from forty years ago, without the benefit of having recently rewatched it, I remember there was a plotline involving Demi's neighbor.  A gay man she was friendly with.  He may even have been her hairdresser or something.  Demi assumes, that because Andrew doesn't and hasn't had a girlfriend pretty much the entire time she's known him, that he's gay.  He's actually in love with the betrothed-to-Judd-Nelson, Ally Sheedy character; which is why he hasn't dabbled with other ladies.  Demi then tries to fix him up with the neighbor.  I recall Mr. McCarthy's acting choices in regards to this storyline and his interactions with the actor playing the gay man were really quite mean spirited.  His anger seemed real.  Too real.  I recall it bordered on cruelty.  This may be one of the reasons why I have negative feelings about the film on a core level.  I'm just gonna say it; that whole thread of the movie was nasty.  Was Mr. McCarthy directed to behave this way towards the gay character?  Directed by a gay man?  If so, why?  I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now.  Nobody's ever apologized for it, either.  And what became of the actor who played this character.  Let me do a bit of research.  I'll be right back.  Please hold...

Yeah, okay...so I'm pretty sure this is him.  Actor Matthew Laurance who played "Ron" the gay guy.

He has the sad, set apart eyes typical of the Piscean.  Yeah, I kind of remember his character seeming bewildered whenever he was on camera.  Perhaps an acting choice or more than likely actual confusion.  They better bring him back in any future "reboot."  And wouldn't it be great if Ron and Kevin did end up together, after all?  *SIGH*
Shall we keep going with this?  I guess we have to.  Let's take a look at what was playing at the movies when St. Elmo's Fire came out, in the summer of 1985:

Remember when theaters would tout the success of a movie.  Often by proclaiming how long it had been playing.  Like: "10TH SMASH WEEK!" or like pointing out that Cat's Eye is a "HIT."  And who knew Don Ameche got top billing for Cocoon?  Well, good for him!  And I never did see A View to a Kill (and I love Bond movies).  But I did see the Duran Duran video a couple of thousand times!  Let's take a look!

Okay, so let's just go where this takes us.  You may recall that the "Love Theme" from the film (or whatever) was released as a single as well.  I don't know if there was a video; but I found this.  I don't know if this is canon or fan created; but you can kind of watch the movie in three minutes (believe me, you do not need to hear the dialogue).  This also gives you an idea of the photographic quality of Mr. Schumacher's films, which was always top notch.  And this is the work of DP Stephen H. Burum, who worked with Brian DePalma a lot (one of my favorites).

Yes, Joel Schumacher gave good visual; but did he give good story?  Did he give good insight into the human condition?He did give us Bat Nipples, which I, for one, am forever grateful for.  I wonder if Mr. Parr inspired him?

Please see: Brats Part 3: The John Hughes Effect for further investigation into this exciting topic!

​CFR   6/23/24

So, I'm about a third of the way through Andrew McCarthy's documentary Brats.  His examination of the effects of "The Brat Pack" label that was applied to him and his celebrity/youth/actor peers in the mid-80's.  But was it?  I'm just now doing a little research; but it seems to me that most of the people who the public perceives/perceived as being "in" "The Brat Pack" were never even mentioned in the origianl New York Magazine article.  In particular, Molly Ringwald.  But it ALL kind of revolves around Ms. Ringwald, it seems to me.  A sort of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon before that game existed.  Should the game really have been One Degree of Molly Ringwald, all along?  Let's look at this.  But before we do, I just want to say that I, for the most part, really liked pretty much all of the actors who were considered to be in this group.  Before and after the fact. So, I'm not here to step on people's feelings; but I will be honest when I feel it's neccessary*, which I'm sure Mr. McCarthy, being a Sagittarius, will appreciate.

That is a lot of copy for a movie poster.  Particularly for a teen movie from the 80's.  I mean, I wonder how many kids took the time to actually read it.  Like stood there in the movie theater lobby and read the whole thing.  I probably did; that is, if I was able to make out the small print in the newpaper movie section.

So let's get a corkboard, some red yarn and get to work!  (Or should that be pink yarn?).

*MISS SPELLING SEZ:​​

Chris, "necessary" only has one "c."  You always put two "c"s in there.  Oh, what do you think of my Molly Ringwald look?  I did it just for this blog!  MWAH!

I love it Tori!  You and Molly should work together.  And I really think neccessary should have two "c"s.  Sorry, but I insist!
And speaking of teenagers...
So, Mr. McCarthy was saying, during the opening moments of Brats, that the 80's was when Hollywood discovered the youth market. The teens.  And then all of a sudden, there was an explosion of teen themed movies that burst off of silver screens across the United States.  And that it true.  But it certainly wasn't the first time.  I would argue that it was the first time that teens and SEX were combined and caught fire.  But actually, that's not quite true either.  Let's go back to the 50's.  The post-World War II era, when I think we can argue that "teen-ager" culture first came into full flower.  That is, American teens, as a group, were large enough to be considered a market.  A demographic.  A money generating demographic at that; perhaps the frist large group with "disposable income."  In other words: The Boomers.  There's a quote out there, perhaps from a LIFE magazine circa 1954 that went something like: "...never before has there been so much, for so few."  And the Boomers are still sort of living that quote, aren't they?  But that's for another blog.  In any event, Hollywood started tailoring material specifically for teens.  Melodramatically, at first.  A Summer Place comes to mind:

And even before that one, this one:

Apparently, disaffection had set in pretty fast.
And then, stupidity set in pretty fast.  Teenagers in the 50's were portrayed in the movies in the most absurd ways.  Teenage monsters, gang members, juvenile delinquents.  Apparently, they had everything but weren't particularly happy with it.

I guess their stoic parents had passed on the ennui to their kids.  So, after a bout of horror movies about teens and beach party movies about teens and then horror/beach party movies about teens; the whole Youth Revolution/Hippy-Dippy/Flower Power thing happened and teens were all about tuning in, turning on and dropping out.  However, I would argue that most films speaking to that vibe were aimed at the college crowd and being played by young looking, late 20 somethings.

Then, in the 70's, at the movies at least; it was time for the grownups.  The real teens were relegated to the Boob Tube, for the most part, in the 1970's.  And things weren't really much more realistic than they had been in the 50's.  Room 222 was supposed to be a "realistic" portrayl of modern teens.  Let's check out a scene and see!  Well, I can only find an entire episode; but here's one featuring Cindy Williams and that amazing opening theme:

Let's all watch and meet back here in 22 to 26 minutes or so!
I didn't go to high school in the early 70's.  I went in the early 80's.  And, I went to an all boys school.  But something tells me that for all its earnestness, Room 222 was about as realistic as Welcome Back, Kotter.  Or the Brady Kids.  But that was at night.  During the day, there were some shows that probably came closer to teen reality and teen problems in a realistic way.  That would've been The ABC After School Special.  And another show called Insight which aired, what I thought, was a particularly excellent story about a girl using sex to get what she wanted.  Here's Marcia Brady herself giving, IMHO, an amazing performance:

Which brings us to 1979 and another sitcom about teens: The Facts of Life.  Which is when Molly Ringwald first hit my radar.

We'll get back to Ms. Molly in a moment.  But let's look at the last couple of years of the 70's.  Teens were starting to maker their way back to the movies.  But, I would argue they were pseudo teens.  Like the "teens" of Grease (1978).  I mean, I loved that movie when I was a kid and I was a teen myself when it was released (13); but as much as I loved it, I never felt that I was watching teenagers.  Some sort of reasonably fantastical facsimilie, I suppose.  And then, in 1979, Breaking Away was released.  I loved it.  Here was a case where, yeah, the "teens" were being played by actors slightly older; but they seemed like real young people.  Like, they were believable in a way "teens" in movies and on TV generally weren't.  This one even spawned a short lived TV series starring Shaun Cassidy, who brought us right back to unbelievable teendom.  Right, like any teen that looked like him was going to be a misfit.

Oh look, it's Paul Dooley, who played Molly's dad too!  Small world.  And I'm really going nuts with all these video clips; so this is probably going to go into more than one blog.
So, where were we?  Oh yeah. 1980.  This was the year that numerous and sundry movies featuring teen-agers being played by teen-agers were released.  Like a lot.  And it presented them as real, flesh and blood people.  Emphasis on the flesh.  Or, the pleasures of the flesh, if you will.  Yes, these teens were having sex.  And if they weren't having it, they were trying to have it.  Trying really hard.  Some were more serious examinations of this literal coming of age; and some were more light-hearted.  One of the first was from February of that year: Foxes.  It starred Jodie Foster and the ever intense Sally Kellerman as her mom.  It was decidedly in the former category.

It makes some strange kind of sense that Jodie Foster sort of launched this whole thing.  I mean, one second she was playing a child prostitute and the next, a tomboy switching bodies with her mom in Disney matinee drivel.  Right on the heels of that, we had Little Darlings, with Kristy McNichol; who I think gave the flat-out, all-time best portrayl of a teen ever put on film in that; despite it's rather ridiculous "high concept" premise.

Did you catch the awful dub job on the girl who makes the challenge?  It's the voice of a thirty year-old.  And the line is: "...the first one to lose her virginity, wins."  Why did they soften it?  In case Mom was in the audience?  Yes, the girls want to get banged.  And in fact, Tatum wants to "lose it" to a hunky camp counselor named Mr. Callahan; essayed within by the Gallically hirsute Armand Assante.  And could you blame her???

I just learned Armand is actually an American from New York of Italian and Irish heritage.  Now why the heck did I think he was French?  Oh, I know!  Because he played one so convincingly in Private Benjamin.
Yes, there was decidedly a trend in these movies.  A rather disturbing trend.  That is, underage kids--well, let's not mince words--having sex with adults.  Now, I woud perhaps trace this to Brooke Shields and her Calvins in Pretty Baby; but, no.  I think we have to go back to Jodie in Taxi Driver.  I think that's when the trend started.  And it wasn't just girls.  It was most decidedly and perhaps more often boys; as Mr. McCarthy can attest to; as his first feature was about this very thing.  Let's consult the poster for his first movie:

They really should have called the movie Crass.  I remember when it came out, looking at this ad and thinking it was sleazy at the time.  I mean, it's not Mr. McCarthy's fault.  It was his first thing.  A big Hollywood movie.  I'm sure that even if he felt the poster was creepy and skeezy he kept it to himself.  I know I would've!  I did not see this one at the movies; but I saw it more than several times when it hit cable and was on five times a day.  Like the poster, I didn't think it was particularly funny.  But back to that poster.  I remember staring at it in the paper.  I was wont to stare at ads.  Most people, particularly with print ads, don't even notice them.  But I could stare at them for hours; I suppose trying to puzzle out the underlying meanings.  Or meaninglessness.  Like, the more I looked at the ad, the more I wondered about it.  What's the scenario here?  They're sitting like it's a formal portrait, but Andrew is not a family member.  So, where are they?  That's a loveseat.  Loveseats are usually in waiting rooms or in entrance halls, particularly of the wealthy, which Jacqueline Bisset and Rob Lowe's characters were.  Why does Rob Lowe seem to be completely unawares that A) His mother is falling out of what appears to be her bathrobe; and the B) His "roommate" is completely naked; and C) that his mother his playing "footsie" with his roommate in clear view of his peripheral vision.  Did the three actors pose for this?  Did they sit for an actual photo from which the artwork was produced?  Or did they graft the heads of the actors from separate photos on to extras who sat for the bodies?  In any event, Andrew McCarthy more than likely had to be photographed making a goofy face.  What were the directions he was given? 

ART DIRECTOR: Okay Andrew...pretend a beautiful and voluptuous older woman is, oh, I don't know...playing footsie with you...
ANDREW: What's footsie?
ART DIRECTOR: You know, when someone takes their shoes off, in say, a restaurant and rubs their bare feet on you...
ANDREW: Why would someone take their shoes off in a restaurant?
ART DIRECTOR: A waiting room.
ANDREW: That's makes even less sense.
ART DIRECTOR: Okay, you took your shoes off.
ANDREW: Why?  Are we in a doctor's office?
ART DIRECTOR: Sure.
ANDREW: Is she a doctor?
ART DIRECTOR: She's your roommate's mother.
ANDREW: Is she seeing the doctor?  Is she a patient?
ART DIRECTOR: Just stick your tongue out and cross your eyes.

But really, she should have been a patient.  If my recollection of the film is correct, she was like a clinical nymphomaniac or something and this was actually kind of played for laughs.

3 Degrees of Reidyation Aside:
Andrew, we have ZERO degrees of separation!  One time in the early 90's I was at this store called EREWHON (or was it Nowhere?  Or was Nowhere across the street from Erewhon.  And was it on Beverly?  Or Melrose?  I forget).  It was this huge, like "health food" grocery store and there was this section to the left that had a counter, like a deli and it was where you could get, I think it was smoothies. It was super-dupe trendy at the time.  And like, they had little shots of wheat grass juice, which they cut fresh and squeezed (mashed?) right before your eyes. I must've been getting a smoothie, because I know I wouldn't have been getting wheat grass juice because that stuff tasted like kissing a cow.  In any event, when I was waiting for my smoothie, I turned around and you were behind me!  You ordered and then we were both standing there waiting and I, of course, having recognized you, continued to turn and glance, not so subtly.  And then you realized that I'd realized who you were and sort of had this non-plussed, bemused, kind of like when a dog tilts it's head and you can tell it's thinking but you're not sure what it's thinking about.  But then again, maybe you didn't realize that I realized who you were and you were simply wondering if you should get a shot of wheat grass juice, even though I'm guessing you probably think it tastes like kissing a cow too.  And then my drink was ready and I left you standing there because it would've been highly awkward for me to have loitered, particularly when I never would've spoken first, 'cuz that's just me.  Or that was just me then.  But now, I'd probably say: "Hi Mr. McCarthy! I love your work.  Also, did you actually play footsie with Jacqueline Bisset while Rob Lowe sat nearby and pretended not to notice?"  Who knows what sort of conversation might've transpired!

So, this is going to have to be continued in a second installment and then who knows how many more?  Because I have a lot more to discuss, re: The Brat Pack.  Oh, wait...I mean The Molly Mob.  So please see: The Molly Mob or: Part 2 of My Response to Mr. McCarthy.
Ciao!

CFR   6/21/24

When I lived in Los Angeles for the first time; I was there from about late 1991 to early 1998.  It was a time in my life that was pretty amazing.  But it was also fraught with a lot of challenge.  Like all of them.  Career, living space, income, health...you name it.  The career one was The Big One.  The One That Wasn't Going My Way.  It finally reached a point of critical mass for a number of reasons; so I left Lakeshore Entertainment/Paramount Studios where I thought all of my Dreams in The Great Big Dream Factory were going to come true.  I quit my job with no back up plan.  I was officially unemployed.  But I loved my little apartment.  It was a Godsend.  One day I looked around my living room and thought: "I'm going to turn this into an art studio."  But I had reservations.  Why did I have reservations?  Well, because I didn't think I was good enough to be an artist who called himself an Artist and did whatever it is that Artists do; which, I suppose, is create Art. But then, screw it, I thought.  Why not?  What have I got to lose? I cleared a corner of the small living room (which was most of the apartment) and moved my "art stuff" into it.  Here is what it looked like, for the short time it was an art studio (I moved back to Massachusetts shortly after I did this):

From left to right, I will describe what we're looking at: Paint color tests for shades of orange. Above that, a portrait of me from when I was a nude model, done by my friend from college, David Adae.  A foldout from National Geographic magazine of the newly restored Sistine Chapel ceiling.  Below that, left to right: a nude portrait in black and white of my friend Joel Craig.  Buzz Aldrin on the moon with the American flag.  A photo of Douglas Fairbanks from either Robin Hood or Zorro.  A photo I took off the televison of Tippi Hedren and Sean Connery in Marnie (1964).  Below that, a painting in progress called "Good Night, Sweet Prince" (more on that later).  Above that, a painting on paper based on a photo I took in the 80's: a skull with a raven.  Figure of woman, charcoal on paper (more on that later).  Color test for blue.
One of the magical things about the internet, is that we can look at things in a way that we couldn't in the past.  Do you ever wonder about your childhood home, if you no longer live there...who lives there now?  What does the room you grew up in look like today?  Or some apartment you lived in, like 1316 and 1/4 Westerly Terrace? Well now, in many cases you can look at it with just a few clicks on a keyboard.  Like, we can look at that very wall today, decades later, and see what it looks like:

And there it is.  The wall behind where they've placed the TV. I wonder if that's the same smoke detector.  Do you think a woman lives there?  Or a man?  Or some combo thereof?  Whoever it is certainly likes the "Danish Modern" aesthetic. I know I'm a fan; but a little goes a long way.
So what is the point of all this, you ask?  Well, I think the point of it is that once I made that decision to claim myself an "Artist" and create a "studio" in order to do it in, something changed.  For the better.  After a hiatus in Boston for the better part of 1998, I returned to Los Angleles and it was a whole different ball game.  I actually did start creating Art on a regular basis.  I started writing with more determination.  I started acting.  I formed a theater company.  I wrote a novel...
In other words, I wasn't sitting around waiting for someone else to make the decision that I was, in fact, an Artist.  I wasn't subjecting myself to the literal gatekeepers of the world and when you think about it, could you find a more famous gate than this one?:

But on looking back on this, I'm also struck by what I guess we can call ADAPTATION.  If you can learn to adapt; yourself, sure; but also circumstances and your attitude toward them and actual things, themselves.  Like that painting front and center in the picture of my studio.  It's title was "Good Night, Sweet Prince."  So, let me take you through the process of what it was that I wanted it to be.  What it wasn't.  And then, what it became.  So, my initial thought about this project was along the lines of...ah, a painting of a woman, mourning at the gravesite of someone famous, that she may have known.  Something that brings to mind a sort of melancholy about dreams deferred.  Mortality.  Something like that.  Then, I started thinking about Hollywood and Stars who had been huge in their day and were now kind of forgotten.  I thought about Douglas Fairbanks, the Tom Cruise of his day and his memorial at The Hollywood Cemetery.  How about a woman grieving there?
So, I went and took pictures of Fairbanks gravesite.  And then I found an old Modess ad that featured a woman I found startlingly striking; so I made a slide of her:

Then, I felt the compostition needed balance; so how about a gargoyle?  So I found a picture of one from Notre Dame and introduced him (her? they?) into the proceedings.

And then I started painting.  And then I lost it.  "Losing" a painting is a phenomenon which is sort of akin to writer's block.  You reach a point where it stops flowing.  You're not happy with it.  You walk away for a while to reconsider.  Sometimes you can come back and finish.  And sometimes you simply can't.  You've lost it.  However, I did rather like the mostly finished element of the Modess lady; so I literally cut her out of the frame and then reframed her.  So, the canvas became just her, on an elongated frame, much like herself.  She and I adapted.  And we were both much happier.  I gifted her to my friends Joel and Donavan and they hung her in their front entrance hall.  They told me that a lady friend of theirs was looking at it once and she remarked that it reminded her of the opening credits of Bewitched.  This made me very happy; as I'd always loved that show and its' animated opening, in particular.

I guess ultimately, what I'm trying to say here is...don't wait for someone else to validate your dreams.  Your parking, sure (although I have some great stories about that for another blog (the parking part)); but not your dreams.  One of my favorite lines from moviedom is "Don't Dream It. Be It." from Rocky Horror.  And that's literally it.  Be it.  Even if there's nobody else saying that you actually are "it."  Even if somebody is saying you're not good at "it."  And what a great message that is!

I think this message is why the movie has had such staying power.
I started watching the documentary Brats by Andrew McCarthy last night.  I just learned he's a Sagittarius!  So, I was rapt (and enraptured).  I "came of age" around the time those movies came out.  And I was a fan.  So I've got a lot to say about it.  And say it I will!  I think that will have to be my next blog.  And then, with God as my witness, I am going to finish my Hallmark X-Mas Flick: Cumming Home for Christmas.  But in the meantime, back to 1314 and 1/4 Westerly Terrace.  Here are a few more pics of the interior when I lived there:

The above is to the left of the door seen in the recent photo.  Those french doors were hidden behind some awful 60's style panels which I pulled off and discarded (without the landlord's permission!)  I was in the process of scraping to repaint when these were taken.  I never finished the job.  These doors fronted a large closet space, which I'm not sure if they were original to the apartment; but I think they were.  The construction was old, old-school solid.  Apparently, that entire wall closet has been removed, which really begs the question, where do you put your belongings; because the other two "closets" held next to nothing.  People in the 20's must've not owned as much clothes as we do now. Or much of anything, really.

I can easily recognize and point out many of the items in the above photo, as I still have most of them.  Shall I?  Why not, as this is becoming a bit of modern archaelology, is it not?  On top of the book shelf, we have...
A Ralph Lauren gift box in his "Sandalwood" pattern, which probably contained potpourri or a scented candle and which I more than likely acquired at the Polo store on Rodeo Drive when I worked there.  A Samsonite faux alligator suitcase:

Next shelf down: Mars Attacks! figures.  Next shelf down: A picture of my niece, Kasey.  A card from somebody with Curious George on the front:

Next shelf down: various and sundry scripts and one of my favorite photgraphs of myself, taken by my friend Paul:

Hey, I never said I wasn't my own biggest fan (somebody's gotta be, am I right people?).  Next shelf down, more assorted papers and the white envelope facing out contained the materials neccessary for obtaining my Irish citizenship, which, did take forever; but I now proudly have!
On the desk: a manual typewriter which I never used much as it hurt my fingers and I was a lousy typist.  I think I gave it to my friend Scott.  Stack of books; #5 down.  The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron.  I was kinda in to it for a little while.  She was married to Marty Scorsese for a time.  

On the shelf (and the doorway to the kitchen is between the bookcase and the shelf, to the left): print of Warhol's "Flowers." Empty Halston cologne bottle(?) designed by Elsa Peretti. Classic Jesus bodega votive candle. Mrs. Butterworth pancake syrup bottle as candle holder. Disney Sleeping Beauty mug from Disneyland (that film being one of my top three all-time favs!):

Blonde wood sewing box.  Ikea?  Yeah, probably.  Finally, on the wall is a framed cover of the Castro Cinema's Fall '96 Calendar/Newsletter(?); featuring a still from Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958).

And if that movie is not a filmed dream, I don't know what is.  So, that concludes our tour.  And all of this, puts me in mind of this:

Oh, and here is the original photography that painting is from:

Oh, Sleeping Beauty seems to be a theme here, what with the raven; one of which figures into that movie quite prominently:

I remember one time my friends and I, in L.A., were having one of our "Creativity Nights."  We'd get together and make ourselves be "creative."  My friend Stephen had a habit of sort of comandeering these evenings (he was the one that got me into The Artist's Way; and if I'm being honest, kind of steamrollered me into it).  Anyhow, one of the exercises was that we had to right down our ten favorite movies off the top of our heads.  Then, when finished, look over the list and see if there was a theme; particularly with the top three.  Now, I love all kinds of movies; but the ones that I consider my favorites are the ones that I find myself watching and rewatching, no matter how much time goes by; and never, ever, tiring of them.  The top three were Disney's Sleeping Beauty (1959), Coma (1978), and Logan's Run (1976).  And it hit me.  The theme was sleep.  Or perhaps, more precisely, unconsciousness.  Or, perhaps, subconsciousness.  And the heroes, in those movies, are all fighting (in some way); to restore consciousness.  But the thing is, I love to sleep.  Because I love to dream.  Because I think dreams are in some way, literal experiences.  I'm not going to elaborate on that.  Maybe it will give you something to smile/think about as you drift off to sleep yourself...perchance, to dream.

CFR   6/19/24

A further exploration of how America's favorite magazine can be even SEXIER...

Longtime pals Jon Hamm and Paul Rudd on the set of their new film, The Olive Oilers.
Photo courtesy Artists Equity 

SEXY MOVIE TIE-INS
The stars of the latest Hollywood block-busters agree to pose, sexily, as their characters from their latest projects; like Paul and Jon in the above still from their forthcoming sword and sandal epic, The Olive Oilers.  The Olive Oilers tells the tale of brothers Gluteus Maximus (Hamm) and Gluteus Minimus (Rudd); scions of an ancient Greek olive empire.  Minimus is kidnapped from the olive farm by Alexander the Great's henchmen, who need his expertise on olea europaea as Alexander lays his plans for world domination.  Maximus swears to the gods that he will get his beloved "baby brotius" back and moves heaven and earth to do so.  Meanwhile, Minimus falls in love with Alexander (Channing Tatum) as he battles Hadrian, Emperor of Rome (Jake Gyllenhaal) on the Western front and Ghengis Khan (Huang Xiaoming) to the East.  Meanwhile, Athena the goddess of olives (Scarlett Johansson) along with Dionysus (Antonio Banderas) answering Maxims' challenge; watch over the proceedings, rolling the dice of Fate and and spinning the Wheel of Fortune (Vanna White).  Salad dressing is invented in the process; and just one of the things on the table as this exciting film lenses on Mykonos, as we speak. Will Jon Hamm and Halle Berry foil Aphrodite (Sydney Sweeney); or will they join her at the orgy on Mount Olympus? This film will feature the English laguage singing debut of Mr. Xiaoming!

Speaking of Asian stars...  I would certainly be in People's Sexiest People edition!  That is, if they would have me.  I mean, they had Patrick Dempsey and he's like only a month younger than me.  Which brings us to a whole other edition: PEOPLE MAGAZINES SEXIEST PEOPLE ALIVE: SENIOR SIZZLE EDITION.  And okay...yeah, sure...I'll be on the cover as Leather Daddy Chris...

Oh, I'm not Asian; although I do have a Japanese aunt and a Thai sister-in-law.  But BING thinks I look like some of these Bruce Lee "clones" and other Martial Arts stars.  What do you think?

And oh, before we continue I must print a CORRECTION.  I recently wrote a blog, taking to task Australian actors and their propensity for wearing Speedo bathing suits; also known as "Budgie Smugglers," down under.  And in Australia.  I included a picture of Mr. Luke Evans, who I always assumed was Australian.  But he's not.  He's from the south of Wales.  So, I apologize to Mr. Evans and will herewith make good with a photo grid of him in an array of swimwear:
NOTICE:
I am now having so much trouble with Weebly and posting photographs, it is totes working my last nerve and cramping my creative Mojo.  I think I will soon have to find a new webpage source.  So keep that in mind.  I cannot razz celebs at my convenience; so, we'll have to come up with a plan B.  In the meantime, here is a video of Mr. Evans being sexy:

I was gonna post some pix of dudes that Bing thinks I look like.  Mishima, 'frinstance. And Chad Everett for some reason.  But I can't.  Perhaps I can illustrate further blogs with my own photos and artwork, but that will require a lot more work.  I just need to rethink this; so please bear with me.
Thanks for reading!
Love and Ciao,
Chris

​CFR   6/15/24

...but where do I put the batteries?


Oh Joan, you minx!
Remember the good old days, when your phone wasn't "smart."  It was just this dumb piece of metal and high impact plastic that sat on a desk or a table and rang until you picked it up; or until the caller hung-up?  It didn't take photographs.  It didn't have a "news" feed.  It couldn't "text."  It couldn't tell you about Taylor Swift's latest broken record--err--record breaking feat.  Or how ugly someone who used to be beautiful is now, because they dared to age. Or the latest (CLANG OF DOOM HERE).  And remember when it couldn't do all those things, how we still managed to do everything we still do now?  In other words, remember when your phone wasn't a constant source of anxiety?  I mean, sure, they weren't perfect back then.  They might ring at three in the morning; and that was never good.  You might get a busy signal that went on all day.  You might miss a call.  And you might even get a prankster.  Or an obscene phone caller; but really; weren't those last two kind of fun?

So, I propose a new award.  A kind of vox populi type thing.  The People's Choice?  How about The People's Voice?  It's an award given to those people we just want to sort of, hang up on.  Or more precisely: slam the receiver down on; because you just really can't do that anymore.  Unless you have a landline.

And speaking of "The People's Choice Awards"; have you ever once been asked for one of your choices?  Or a vote? Or anything to do with this "award" which is purportedly by the people, of the people and for the people?  I mean, does it have any connection to People magazine?  Why is its ceremony seemingly broadcast randomly?  And before we get into that, let's talk about People magazine's latest issue of "The Sexiest Man Alive" edition, shall we?  Okay.  Patrick Dempsey.  I love that a fellah "of a certain age" (and he and I are of the same certain age, more or less; by just about a month)  was named, THE SEXIEST MAN ALIVE; but, I mean...come on.  Is he really the "sexiest man alive"?  Arguably he's the sexiest male celebrity actor of a certain age that hails from Maine; but even in that case, I'm gonna have to go with Judd Nelson.

Give me Saturday detention RIGHT NOW!

I've already expressed my ASMR response to flaring nostrils in the male of the species.  Let's take a look!

And a listen?
​...ah, sure.  Why not!

And, ah, pardon me People magazine; but your Sexiest Man Alive edition has to be the most unsexy magazine spread about "sexiness" I've ever been disappointed by.  Here is the "sexiest" picture of Mr. Dempsey:

And only one foot?  I mean, I had to run to Wikifeet to get a better look (he's on there).  This was the best I could find, taking in all angles of consideration:

His feet really sort of match the rest of him.  Everything about him seems long, angular and gangly (in a good way).  He appears a lot taller than his five feet ten inches (according to the computer) and his feet are the same size as mine: 9.5.  His look like at least a size 11, I think.
Wait, where were we going with this?  Oh, yeah, I'm still on People.  So, this was the "sexiest" picture in the whole article, IMHO.  Every other dude and fellah was like FULLY clothed.  And this too was rather a disappointment:

I mean, Mr. Kravitz never disappoints.  But he also never wears a shirt.  So how is this sexy?  And why is he wearing pants?  Who wears pants with no shirt in the tropics?  Why couldn't we get the uncensored version of this pic?

Or at least Lenny's legs.  Does he never wear shorts?  I looked.  I couldn't find any pictures of him in shorts.

But anyways...back to The Phoney Awards!  And none of these people I've mentioned strike me as phoneys; except perhaps Joan Crawford, who made phoniness an art form.  She was a phoney; but she was a real phoney, baby!

But the Phoney Awards (Also know as "The Hanggies" (as in: "just hang up on them!") and also as "The Clunkies" (as in when the phone receiver CLUNKS down into it's cradle when hanging up)) are not necessarily just for "phonies"; as in, "phoney people"; that is, individuals who use pretense for any number of reasons (e.g.: using big words to make themselves seem smarter: wouldn't you concur; as I don't feel I'm being tersivergationous).
The award itself, which is presented in Silver, Gold and Statue of Liberty Copper-Oxide, is an old school table phone, which really lends itself to the slamming of the receiver during a particularly enthusiastic hang-up.  

But it also comes in a wall mounted version for when you just want to let the person blather on; and thus, place the receiver thusly, so as not to have to listen:

I've got more to say about People Magazine's "Sexy" editions; but I'll get to that later.  I'm really going to be bouncing back and forth here.  But back, now, to The Clunkies.  Here's our first official presenter, Miss Teenah Pheigh, modeling The Blue Phoney, which is presented to The Least Erotic Figure In Would-Be (should-be?) Erotic Circumstances: 

So, great...now I'm going to have pictures of Danny DeVito in his tighty whities all over the site.  So, let's just give Chris M. the Blue Phonie for his performance in the Peleton commercial, wherein he blurred the lines of what's "sexy" and what's merely "moist."  The other nominees, forthcoming.

But back to People.  So, I think the people at People, those people who need people (and People) really need to broaden the horizons of "The Sexiest Man/Woman On Earth" issue.  Oh, wait...do they do a Sexy Women version?  Or is that too sexist?  Who knows?  But, in any event I think they really need to bring the sexy back.  And what better way to kick off that edition than with Justin Timberlake.  How about Justin having a "wardrobe malfunction" wherein we see a series of pics of JT as his jockstrap comes loose and falls off?  Or maybe, kind of sexy role playing, like the following (which I find not only sexy; but weirdly arousing!):

Our final Phoney is presented to Mr. Stephen Miller, Presidential advisor and all around Swell Guy.  Here, the award is presented by professional Telly Savalas seat filler, Mr. Pally Zappatos; who will also be accepting the award on behalf of Mr. Miller, who couldn't be here tonight.

APPLAUSE
Stephen couldn't be here tonight as he's filming The Bebe Rebozo Story in Florida; but he would like to thank HUAC  and Egghead, his favorite Batman Supervillain.  
APPLAUSE and OUTRO MUSIC

CFR   6/15/24

Matty!  Remember that project I pitched to you?  TIBURON?  The high-end mini-series about terrestial* shark attacks in the greater Ibiza area?  Oh, you remember, the one where Jason Statham plays your French Interpol partner and the two of you investigate a rash of murders that have all the earmarks (or bite marks) of shark attacks?  The one that features dance numbers, as your partner is not just a policeman; but a night-club hoofer?

And remember how I was going through all the possible and past iterations of "shark" movies?  Well get this.  I just read in my feed that Netflix is about to air a movie about...get this...A SHARK IN THE SEINE!  Let's take a look!

What are the odds?  Pretty good, it seems.  And it looks pretty good.  And it looks dead serious.  Of course, Tiburon would be, by necessity somewhat tongue-in-cheek; I mean, if one of our characters moonlights at the Moulin Rouge and your character actually has gills (it's a long story...).
But, I mean, isn't that wild?  I'm sure some people thought: "A sequel to Good Will Hunting?  That's nuts!"  And I'm sure some people thought: "A shark, in the Seine?  C'est dingue!"  And yet, here we are.  And actually, Jason does dance, it seems.  Sometimes.  Let's take a look!

Damn.  The boy has moves.  And in leopard-print, no less.  Let's bring back this Jason Statham!  I mean, anything is possible if we now have a movie about a shark in Paris, right?

So let's all celebrate this synchronicitous silliness with Msr. Chevallier and I'll be waiting for your call!
Love,
​Chris

CFR   6/6/24

I hate flying.  And the older I get, the more I hate it.  You think it would be the reverse; you know, like, an acclimation to it over the years?  Nope.  I'll take the train, thank you very much, even though it has its very own set of possible negative outcomes, several of which I've experienced on some recent train excursions.  Flooded tracks?  Sure!  Stalled in the middle of nowhere 'til well past dawn?  You bet!  But that's for another time.  Another blog, perhaps.  I do, however, love airports!  It's really a great way to tap into the Zeitgeist.  I mean, you get it ALL.  The state of the WORLD from the comfort of a food-court Burger King that wants...wait...hold for it...get this...$15.99 for a "meal."  That's a sandwich, fries and a drink.  For $15.99.  I mean, I know food at places like airports is automatically more expensive.  Usually about twice what you'd pay regurlarly.  But this is just flat out price gouging,  Hold the pickle, add the LETTUCE; Special Orders won't be gratis; all we ask is that you let us GOUGE YOU TODAY!  Fuck off Burger KIng.  You can go Flame-broil your own ass.
On a happier note...
I recently flew to Phoenix (on a plane; two, in fact).  Why Phoenix*?  Why would you go to Phoenix, home of Maricopa County, the Lovely and Talented Kari Lake and Jacob Chansley, the QAnon Shaman?  And can we talk about his "look." It includes nipple-centric tattoos.  The far right is okay with nipple-centric tattoos?  Okay, whatevs...  So, I had a friend on the first wing of the plane ride.  

Yeah, so I'm sitting there, buckled in and psyching myself for takeoff when suddenly a grasshopper, from out of nowhere (although Joseph had spotted him first) landed on my forearm.  He was small for a grasshopper.  A baby perhaps?  Do grasshoppers start out as little grasshoppers?  I don't know; but he was neon green, which is one of my favorite colors.  So then he jumped from my arm to the wall of the plane, right below the window.  And he sat there, doing whatever it is that grasshoppers do when they're just sitting there.  It wasn't a long flight; but I felt it quite comforting having him there. A sort of emotional support grasshopper.  Or was he a cricket?  Do crickets come in any color other than brown?  I couldn't help but think of Jiminy Cricket.  Was this cricket trying to tell me something?  Was he trying to assure me that I would arrive safely at my next destination?  At least he wasn't browbeating me like that fucking Disney cricket.  I mean, doesn't Pinocchio kill him in the original?  Yes, he does.  With a hammer.  This is a kid's story?

Pinocchio, gettin' real!

​Cripes, I think I might've tried some OFF! first.  I mean Crickicide?  Damn Pinoke.  But then, your tale is a freaky one.  And please explain to me Pinoke; or Jiminy Cricket's ghost (yes, I think he comes back as a ghost. Actually, I've never read the original; and I have no plans. Immediate ones, anyways) why they KEEP MAKING MOVIE VERSIONS OF PINOCCHIO.  Why?  It's a horrible story.  It's fundamentally creepy.  An old man making a boy out of wood that he wants to be real?  And sleeps in the same bed with?

I'm not going to touch that one with a ten foot nose!
How about a random selection of images from various and sundry iterations of Pinocchio?  Really Chris?  Sure, what the hey!

And now they've made and remade it to the point where we're getting (or gotten) a splatter/horror version.  Which, if you ask me is redundant.  The property was always pure horror.

But let's move on.  This started out so nice...
Back to my grasshopper friend!
What did he mean?
What was he trying to say?
What message did he have from our friend the Universe?

Symbolically, the grasshopper traditionally represents good luck.  And leaping forward and change and all kinds of good things. Good fortunes.  Communication.  I'll take it!  Same goes for the cricket.  And I'm happy to report the three dragonflies have returned to my driveway for a visit!  Hopefully they'll come back again and I can get a photo-op.  I'll post pics if I do.
But back to the airport.  Yes, the airport is a true microcosm of the state of the world at large.  I mean, it's crowded with people of all different races (the airport/world, that is). It's crazy and hectic.  The prices are inflated.  You can see all the news that's fit to print at all the news stores.  You can see the latest fashion trends on the travellers and in the shop windows.  Who knew Spanx made dresses?

I would totally wear that if I was a woman!  It reminds me of something Edith Head might've designed for Tippi Hedren during the Hitchcock years.  And Edith Head gave good garment!

Yes, airports are a great place to go to see the world.  And you don't even have to get on a plane.  
So, when we landed in Charlotte, I didn't want to leave my new little friend on the aircraft.  I figured, he'd only get swatted or ixnayed by the cleaning crew and I felt as though I couldn't just leave him; as he'd done his best to comfort me through my extraterrestrial time of need.  But what to do?  I had bags to carry and aisles to scamper down.  How was I going to manage a capricious grasshopper?  I looked about for something to carry him in and then, voila!  The air sickness bag!

I opened the bag, gave him a nudge, in he went and we were good to go! 
But what then?  I thought I might perhaps release him when exiting the plane, via the gap in the skybridge; but after consulting with my avionically minded hubs, we both thought that might look "suspicious."  So, the next best thing was releasing him on to a tree inside the terminal. Which is what we did.  I don't know what kind of tree it was; but it was real.  So that's where we left him.

He's out of focus and that makes him look a lot bigger than he actually was.  I don't know how long they live, but hopefully he'll live out his days happily in that tree.  And there's always a bar right across the way.  Maybe he'll start his own afterhours club!
So, happy travels to us all!  And I think the lesson here is:
Never take a garrulous grasshopper for granted or Grounded Grasshoppers Give Godsent Gratitude!
Bon Voyages, mes amis!

​CFR   6/6/24