Bacon’s Most Enjoyable Character

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Ask me for a Kevin Bacon career highlight, and without hesitation my first answer will always be Tremors (’90). “Valentine McKee”, Bacon’s lively, none-too-bright yokel in cowboy boots and a jean jacket, is his most fully-rounded, emotionally-winning character ever. I re-watched Tremors six or seven years ago and loved it all over again.

Bacon and Fred Ward were a great shitkicker duo in that Ron Underwood film. Tremors was called a failure because it only made $16.7 million after costing $10 million to produce, but it wasn’t a wipe-out. And it did catch on at Blockbuster, and it gradually spawned a few Tremors sequels. I saw the first one (Tremors 2: Aftershocks) and quickly got off the boat. The others were probably just as bad.

Jett, Dylan and I watched the original Tremors over and over when it hit laser disc in ’96. (They called it “Sand Monsters”.) Not long after I introduced Jett to Kevin at a post-screening reception. A proud moment.

I had first met Bacon in early ’82 (40 years ago!) when I was assigned to interview him for Us magazine. The topic du jour was his breakout performance as “Fenwick,” the nihilistic kid who knows all the game-show answers, in Barry Levinson‘s Diner. Every film journalist loved that little movie, and Joe Popcorn mostly went “meh” — it only managed $14 million domestic.

All to say that I found the above Tremors interview fascinating. Bacon was in a shaky position at the time, he says. A career slump, running out of money. But he knew he could have fun with the character.

Right after Tremors on my Bacon scale is Diner (’82). I would never, ever mention Footloose, which I instantly hated. I would then mention Bacon’s wise-ass gay prostitute in JFK, his Marine prosecutor in A Few Good Men and astronaut Jack Swigert in Apollo 13. I also liked him in Paul Verhoeven‘s The Hollow Man (’00), HBO’s Taking Chance (’09) and Amazon’s I Love Dick.

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Why Doesn’t Biden Scold Oil Companies for Unconscionable Profiteering?

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In April ‘62 JFK derided steel executives for raising steel prices by $6 a ton, and thereby showing “utter contempt” for the interests of average Americans. Right now big oil is showing the same kind of disregard by using the Ukraine War as a rationale for sending gas prices through the roof. Lefties are calling them on this, but has President Biden said anything? This is what the bully pulpit is for.

And by the way, on his recent trip to Europe why didn’t Biden visit Kyiv and do a walk-around with Zelenskyy, like British PM Boris Johnson has just done?

Jurassic Franchise Prison

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Various dino breeds leaving footprints in the snow is, I’ll admit, a striking visual concept; ditto the extra-large Gigantosaurus. But the most attractive element (for me) is the sight of dinosaurs sprinting around on the island of Malta, where some of this was filmed.

It’s my feeling that the return of the Sam Neill-Laura Dern-Jeff Goldblum trio for the first time since ‘93…I’m afraid this only reiterates what a shameless paycheck project this basically is.

Colin Trevorrow directed this 6.10.22 release.

Is it really true that the aspect ratio is 2:1 — Vittorio Storaro’s preferred a.r.? The IMDB page says this.

Question: How does a TRex-like dino manage to swim with just those tiny little arms to paddle with?

https://youtu.be/SAMI8qb2lkw

June Allyson Detour

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Memories of June Allyson have pretty much evaporated. Only boomers remember her, and vaguely at that. Her peak movie-star decades were the ’40s and ’50s. Born in 1917, she’d aged out of romantic or loving-wife roles by the late ’50s and had shifted her focus to television. I’ve always thought of Allyson as Doris Day without the singing — a petite blonde with a warm heart, a spunky personality and a great smile.

But whenever Allyson’s name comes up (which is infrequently) I don’t think of her movie roles. I think, rather, of her extra-marital affairs with Dean Martin and Alan Ladd. I’m genuinely fascinated by the marked contrast between the spirited, bright-eyed girl from the movies and the actual woman Allyson was when temptation occasionally called.

From Nick Tosches‘ “Dino: Living High In the Dirty Business of Dreams“: “[In 1948, Martin] took up with America’s quintessential girl-next-door, June Allyson. On August 10th, the day after Allyson attended the Martin-and-Lewis opening at Slapsy Maxie’s, she and her husband Dick Powell took delivery of a two-month-old baby from the adoption agency that had long kept them waiting. It was the happiest day of their marriage. She told Dean so a few weeks later, on the night she first went to bed with him.”

Allyson and Ladd’s affair happened during the filming of The McConnell Story (’55), a reputedly schmaltzy drama which I’ve never seen and probably never will see. Ladd fell hard for Allyson. Everyone’s heard the story about him calling Powell and saying “I’m in love with your wife,” and Powell responding with “Everyone’s in love with my wife.”

Both Ladd and Allyson grappled with alcohol issues. You could see the puffiness in Ladd’s features by the mid ’50s — his appearance in Shane, when he was 38, was his most glamorous.

Allyson (her real name was Eleanor Geisman) had it rough as a kid. After Powell’s cancer-related death in ’63, her drinking reportedly became…well, noticable. She turned things around in the ’70s. She became a Depends spokesperson for a couple of decades. Allyson was a staunch Republican.

McConnell’s Amoral Perspective Is Essential

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Sen. Mitch McConnell (R), the U.S. Senate Minority Leader, is a pure political animal, an expedient parliamentarian and a cold-blooded reptile. (Turtles, we sometimes forget, are reptiles.)

On 2.13.21, Mitch McConnell said “Former President Trump’s actions preceding the [Jan. 6th] riot were a disgraceful dereliction of duty. There is no question that [Trump] is practically and morally responsible for provoking the events of that day. The rioters [attacked the Capitol] because they had been fed wild falsehoods by the most powerful man on Earth — because he was angry he’d lost an election.”

Two weeks later McConnell told a Fox interviewer that he would “absolutely” support Trump if he wound up as the Republican presidential nominee in 2024.

Speaking two days ago to Axios’ Jonathan Swan, McConnell said he has “an obligation to support the nominee” of his party. And that his two statements on Trump were “not at all inconsistent…I stand by everything I said on January 6 and everything I said on February the 13th.”

Passat Money Pit

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A brief note to Laszlo, the S.F. Valley guy who sold me the 2009 VW Passat in late February: “Cheers. A friend told me not to bother but I can’t resist bringing you up to speed on the VW Passat, which, you’ll recall, I paid $4K for on or about 2.26.

“I’ve barely driven it since then except for a round trip to Santa Barbara, and since then (over the last six or seven weeks) I have had THREE major crises — the engine was leaking coolant so the whole cooling system had to be replaced ($1600). Then a serious oil leak had to be fixed — $570. Today another engine catastrophe happened, and now the leaking plastic (!) radiator has to be replaced — $1K. That’s $3200 plus the cracked windshield repair ($275) and a new cheap-ass Bluetooth radio ($350).

“In short, I’ve had to spend almost $4K on top of the $4K I paid you.

“My mechanic, Carlos, says I shouldn’t have gotten a Passat — that they just start falling apart after 100K miles. Before buying it I had been all over the city (down to Compton three times, twice to Long Beach) and spending a small fortune in Uber fares to find the right kind of used car (Tatiana has wheels but couldn’t be bothered to assist except for one time), and no sellers were willing to drive their for-sale car up to my WeHo mechanic’s place (corner of Melrose and Fairfax). So Peter, that Valley mechanic, showed up and sniffed around, and gave the Passat a clean bill of health. Alas, Peter wasn’t as perceptive or inquiring as he should have been.

“So I crossed myself, said a little prayer and decided to buy the damn thing, and now I’m down almost $8K. For the Passat is a doom car, a money pit and a total lemon, my mechanic says. Our deal worked out for you, but now I’m stuck with a piece of shit. I had wanted to drive it to Connecticut and then, once there, use it very infrequently as a station car. Now I can’t even do that. This piece of plastic shit will NEVER make it across the country. Some hose will blow, some other engine part will fail. So I’m $8K poorer and I have nothing. I’m stuck with a dog of a car that has been nothing but misery so far, and will be nothing but misery for as long as I own it.

It feels so mortifying to have been stupid enough to buy this car. HE to Carlos: “What should I do, drive it over a cliff like Buzz in Rebel Without A Cause?” Carlos to HE: “You have to decide what to do.”

Match Game

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Many relationships and marriages work out, sometimes for decades. They survive as long as the candle burns, fate warrants and patience persists; others wind down after four or five years. Or sooner. And that’s fine.

No, I’m not about to air some dirty Jeff-and-Tatiana laundry. It would be extremely gauche to do that. Neither Tatiana nor I are perfect, but our private stuff is not column fodder. Because I will not be that middle-aged married woman drunkenly hissing at her husband and angrily exposing her breasts during a party scene in John Schlesinger‘s Sunday Bloody Sunday (’71).

Over the past several weeks, however, I’ve been wincing over Tatiana’s respect and allegiance for Vladimir Putin, and especially her views about the ongoing Russian terror and genocide in Ukraine (which Vladimir Zelensky will discuss on 60 Minutes two days hence). I’ve kept my distance for the most part. It’s her deal, her background (born and raised in Edinet), her culture, her convictions.

Given these recent opinions, Tatiana is a serious fan of Oliver Stone. His 2017 Putin interviews rang her bell and then some. Two days ago he achieved the same by posting a Facebook essay that that was highly skeptical of all the Russia-and-Putin bashing in the media.

Stone’s end quote: “All this anti-Russian propaganda, sweeping in its Western unity, smells bad — literally like Orwell’s ‘1984.’”

Tatiana loved Stone’s essay, and so she tapped out a cheering response to that effect. This led to thoughts about luck, love and the ways of surprising discoveries. If only she and Stone had somehow managed to meet a few years ago, and had kept in occasional touch and perhaps had gradually formed a bond that was about something more than just social-media rapport. I’m not saying what I seem to be saying. I’m saying Tatiana and Oliver almost seem, right now, like two peas in a pod — coming from a very similar place in terms of Ukraine-related perceptions and convictions.

Who develops admiration and affection for someone based on their cultural and political views? Well, all relationships start somewhere. And so much in life is about luck, timing and kismet. I do think Tatiana, whose views about the Ukraine War have drawn a lot of flak on this site, would feel more “heard” and respected right now if things had worked out for her in a different way. I for one would be fine with that. I am also cool — accepting — about our five years together, and in many some ways I am thankful. I’m committed to living in the now.

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Yelling Ain’t The Half Of It

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Whoever cut this 26-second clip needs to be canned. Too blunt, for one thing. No warm-up, no lead-in, no integrity, no intrigue…edited with an axe. Yes, that’s Nicole Kidman‘s Queen Gudrun telling the bad guys to kill Alexander Skarsgård‘s Amleth, the “Viking warrior prince”…her son. So seven or eight guys come at him with axes and he slays them all because he’s so much faster and stronger and angrier…because righteous vengeance has tipped the scales? Oh, wait, he only kills one guy and then the clip ends.