An occasional drama or comedy will acquaint us with a young kid version of a lead character. Every so often the young actor won’t look like the older actor at all, and sometimes (or usually) he/she will offer a reasonably decent resemblance (like the kid who played young Vito Adolini/Corleone in The Godfather, Part II).
And every so often (as in very rarely) a young actor will bear such a close resemblance to the older actor that you can’t help but say “wow, amazing…where’d they find that kid?”
Example #1: Micheal McConkey was cast as a young version of Marty Feldman‘s “Digby” in Feldman’s The Last Remake of Beau Geste (’77).** A fairly astonishing resemblance. McConkey later adopted the name Mícheál Mac Donncha and became an Irish (Sinn Fein) politician, rising to the title of Dublin’s Lord Mayor between ’17 and ’18.
Example #2: Buddy Swan‘s casting as the eight-year-old Charles Foster Kane in Citizen Kane hits the bull’s-eye. It was easy as pie to imagine Swan growing up into Orson Welles.
Worst casting of a teenage version of grown-up lead character: Jeff East as high-school version of Chris Reeve‘s Clark Kent-slash-Superman. Born in late ’57, East was 18 or possibly 19 when Richard Donner‘s Superman began shooting in March 1977. Reeve, who was a young-looking 25 at this point, could have easily played his own teenaged self and nobody would’ve blinked an eye. East didn’t resemble Reeve in the slightest. It was 100% INSANE of Donner to have cast him.
Which other kid castings, good or bad, deserve mention?
Kilday is saying that 2020 (which includes early ’21) has been a dud movie year and a general downer for all concerned. Everyone knows this and wants to move on and return to normal. All hail gains by women and POC filmmakers but nobody really loves the wokester progressive surge except those who’ve directly benefited. (And don’t forget that wokesters are the Robespierre-like architects of cancel culture.) Everyone’s morose and bummed and nobody gives a shit about the ’20 and ’21 nightmare because it’s an asterisk and a tragedy — a gloomy movie year defined by streaming and domestic hibernation and the slow suffocation of our souls…half-dying under a grim cloud.
The exceptionally gifted George Segal was a necessary, nervy, highly charged actor for over 50 years (early ’60s until 2014). In his heyday he was an explorer of urban Jewish neurotics with underlying rage…half superficial, half pained and always guilty or bothered about something…at other times Segal was a smoothie…an amiable grinner with sandy brown hair and an eye for the ladies.
Segal’s two best roles were in Paul Mazursky‘s Blume In Love (’73) and in Robert Altman‘S California Split (’74).
Segal worked hard and dutifully and never stopped pushing, but honestly? His leading-man peak period lasted only nine or ten years. Or if you want to be cruel about it, he was The Guy Everyone Understood and Related To for only about five years, between ’70 and ’75.
The golden period began with Segal’s breakout performance in Ship of Fools (’64), and then as a crafty prisoner of war in King Rat (’65). This was followed by his career-making performance as Nick, the ambitious and randy biology professor who beds Elizabeth Taylor but can’t get it up, in Mike Nichols‘ Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (’66). Segal’s streak ended with his lived-in performance as compulsive gambler Bill Denny in California Split, opposite the wonderfully on-target Elliot Gould.
Segal didn’t catch serious fire until neurotic Jewish guys became a hot Hollywood commodity in the early ’70s. His first serious breakout came when he played a vaguely unhappy cheating commuter husband in Irvin Kirshner‘s Loving (’70). This was followed by his guilty, lovesick moustachioed Jewish attorney in Carl Reiner‘s Where’s Poppa? (’70).
After this Segal starred in six winners — The Owl and the Pussycat, Born to Win (drug addict), The Hot Rock (Kelp the locksmith), Blume in Love, A Touch of Class, The Terminal Man and finally California Split — my favorite of all his films.
Between the mid to late ’60s Segal starred in five films that were somewhere between interesting and pretty good but at the same time not great — The Quiller Memorandum (’66), The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre
(’68), Bye Bye Braverman, No Way to Treat a Lady (’68), The Bridge at Remagen (’69) and…well, that’s it.
Segal’s last decently written role was as Ben Stiller‘s dad (and Mary Tyler Moore‘s henpecked husband) in David O. Russell‘s Flirting With Disaster (’96).
On 1.17.21, World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimyreported that “there are early, but very serious, talks from Mouse House head honchos to punt the football and release a majority of their 2021 releases straight to Disney Plus, some in unison with theatrical releases. The titles being seriously discussed include Cruella, Luca, Shang-Shi, Jungle Cruise and, most intriguingly, the overtly-delayed Black Widow.”
Today Deadline‘s Anthony D’Allesandroreported that Disney will open Cruella and Marvel’s Black Widow “simultaneously in theaters and on Disney+ with Premier Access (which is usually $30 a purchase extra for subscribers) in most Disney+ markets on Friday, 5.28 and Friday, 7.9, respectively. It also shifted release dates on five other films.”
Big deal Who cares? I wouldn’t pay $30, $13 or even $3 to see Black Widow. Whadaya think of them apples?
Cecil B. DeMille‘s The Greatest Show on Earth (’52) is one of the least deserving Best Picture Oscar winners of all time. We all know that. But when they show it on the streaming services, they ought to respect the original “boxy is beautiful” aspect ratio (i.e., 1.37:1).
The piece is called “Best Picture and the Green Book Effect.” I’ve highlighted a few portions, but before I post them never forget an essential HE legend, which is that Green Book‘s Best Picture triumph, which happened a little more than two years ago, was an absolutely glorious pushback against the p.c. Twitter jackals.
Yes, I’ve said this two or three times before but it feels so good to repeat it.
Sasha excerpt #1: “I have never believed Green Book deserved the [ugly] treatment it got [from the wokesters], certainly not how the filmmakers’ past was rifled through and exposed. To me, it was redirected anger at Trump that caused a lot of the anger. [And yet Academy] voters didn’t seem to care and still picked the film to win Best Picture. Although now most people in the film coverage industry believe Green Book got what it deserved and that the Academy, which had picked Moonlight just two years before, was racist for voting for Green Book.”
Sasha excerpt #2: “The balloon of hysteria that arose on Twitter in reaction to Green Book’s success [was tumultuous]. They mostly left the film alone until it started winning the top prizes. The critics had thrown their lot 100% behind Roma and fully expected the Academy would make history with the first ‘foreign language’ film to win Best Picture.
“The Academy finally did that the following year [with Parasite], probably because of what happened with Green Book and Roma.
“But Roma was never going to win. If you gave voters only those two choices there is very little chance they were going to pick Roma. It was a beautiful film but it was not a general audience crowd-pleaser like Green Book is.
“In almost every case, a Best Picture winner is that one movie you can sit anyone down in front of and they will at least get it if not love it. They have to get it. Many could not and did not get why Roma was receiving so much praise.”
HE side riff: Roma lost support because of two things: (a) the opening 15 minutes, in which Yalitza Aparicio‘s Cleo” is shown cleaning up a spacious two-story Mexico City home and making beds and whatnot for what feels like forever, and (b) there were too many dogloads in the driveway, a problem made worse by the fact that Cleo made no real attempt to regularly clean them up.
Sasha excerpt #3: “Film Twitter tends to dictate the narrative and the journalists pick up on that narrative. If they say a movie is racist, journalists sometimes go along with it. If they say sexism is why a person did not get a Best Director nomination, journalists go along with it.
“But even if people who cover the race objected to the treatment of Green Book, they weren’t going to say anything. It was way too risky.
“If they did say anything it would be in support of the attempts to bring the film down. That’s really the way you build clout online in the insular world of film criticism or bloggers or fans online. You go along or else face being ignored or being attacked.”
We all know that Hollywood Reporter contributor Gregg Kilday is really saying about the current Oscar nominees, and in particular those for Best Picture: He’s saying that 2020 (which includes early ’21) has been a dud movie year and a general downer for all concerned.
Everyone knows this and wants to move on and return to normal. All hail gains by women and POC filmmakers but nobody really loves the wokester progressive surge except those who’ve directly benefited. (And don’t forget that wokesters are the Robespierre-like architects of cancel culture.) Everyone’s morose and bummed and nobody gives a shit about the ’20 and ’21 nightmare because it’s an asterisk and a tragedy — a gloomy movie year defined by streaming and domestic hibernation and the slow suffocation of our souls…half-dying under a grim cloud.
Joe and Jane Popcorn aren’t exactly caught up in the thrill of the Oscar race, to put it mildly. Even professional Oscar watchers are having trouble maintaining a semblance of enthusiasm.
Kilday has posted five or six mitigating quotes that basically say “oh, no, this is a great year and streaming makes everything more accessible and we’re living through a great time.”
He’s also posted one honest quote from Unbroken producer Matthew Baer: “The grand slam for the Oscar best picture is a popular movie with artistic ambitions fulfilled. But given theaters were closed, popularity is difficult to judge. It’s ironic that this year Nomadland is a leading candidate because the business itself became displaced. Also, given nothing else matters in comparison to recovering from COVID, while winning an Oscar is the ultimate victory for artists, it will have less meaning in American culture this year.”
If theatrical was alive and thriving, the leading Best Picture contenders…well, who knows? But we all suspect the same thing, which is that they wouldn’t have stirred much in the way of crowds.
I am a moderate left-centrist and therefore not a Daily Wire rightie, but this 3.23 story, reported by DW‘s Asche Schow, is a more honest account of what’s been happening since Ahmad Al Aliwi Alissa was identified as the shooter than anything you’ll read in the N.Y. Times or the Daily Beast. or via woke Twitter.
N.Y. Times excerpt: “The police in Arvada, Colorado, said they had two encounters in 2018 with the suspect, identified on Tuesday as Ahmad Al Aliwi Alissa — one on a report of third-degree assault and one of criminal mischief. It is not clear if he was convicted of a crime.
“Court records show Alissa was born in Syria in 1999, as did a Facebook page that appeared to belong to the suspect, giving his name as Ahmad Al Issa; the page was taken down within an hour of his name being released by the authorities. Michael Dougherty, the Boulder County district attorney, said the suspect had ‘lived most of his life in the United States.'”
“The Facebook page said he went to Arvada West High School, where he was a wrestler, and listed wrestling and kickboxing as being among his interests. Many of the posts were about martial arts, and one, in 2019, said simply, “#NeedAGirlfriend.”
Honest HE reaction after looking at photo of alleged assailant (w/ bleeding leg wound) being led away by police: This is a 21 year-old? Look at him — overweight, pot-bellied, rapidly thinning hair if not balding, bearded. He looks 38 if a day.
Ghastly life masks of (top row) Dennis Hopper,Laurence Olivier, Bob Hope, Dustin Hoffman, Tor Johnson; (bottom row) David Letterman, Fredric March, Fred Astaire, Robert DeNiro, Robert Duvall. They all look horrific.
Mutant from William Cameron Menzies’ InvadersFromMars
A month ago WorldofReel ‘s Jordan Ruimyreported that Thierry Fremaux was looking at bumping the 2021 Cannes Film Festival from the present July slot into October. Now Showbiz411’s Roger Friedman is reporting the same thing. I’m sorry but how can Cannes be viable in the immediate wake the big four fall festivals (Venice, Telluride, Toronto, New York)? Best to plan for May ‘22.
Roughly 30 years before Hollywood Elsewhere became a huge, earth-shaking deal, I ran into the great Marty Feldman at Izzy’s Deli (1433 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica). It was sometime in early ‘75, 9 or 10 pm. The place was fairly crowded. I had ordered and eaten, and was alone at a table for four. On top of which I was in a sullen mood, reading something. The gracious thing, of course, would have been to sit at the counter.
Anyway suddenly there was bug-eyed Marty Feldman, half leaning over and asking if I was feeling well and good. “Good?” I replied. “Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?” Marty (not missing a beat): “Because we’d like to join you.”
I knew who he was, of course. And I knew, of course, that he was basically nudging me along. He was saying what Eyegor’s father used to say to his son…”What the hell are you doing in the bathroom day and night? Why don’t you get out of there and give someone else a chance?” Except he was actually saying “uhm, Izzy’s is very crowded and here we are, four fine people looking to spend a bit of money on Izzy’s food, and you’re being a table hog.”
Being the sullen type, I ignored Feldman’s suggestion about sharing the table because it seemed inconceivable that he and his wife (accompanied by another couple) were even vaguely interested in my company. So I grumpily took the hint, got up, paid the bill and walked out.
After watching the Last Remake of Beau Geste Bluray I was saying to myself, “Idiot! You could’ve smiled and said ‘sure, sit down!’ and spent a few minutes with a great fellow and his wife and friends before beating a graceful exit. Brilliant, Jeff!”
But that was me back in those days. Morose, depressed, vaguely self-loathing.
Update: HE commenter “Jeff” reminds that Izzy’s was called Kenny’s in the mid ’70s, and that Kenny is/was the dad and Izzy is the son. I’d forgotten this completely.
