JAMES GARNER’S DAUGHTER OPENS TRIBUTE SITE TO HER AWESOME FATHER

The Mighty James Garner’s daughter, Gigi Garner (a successful talent manager in her own right), has opened a tribute website to her father. She seems to be updating it fairly regularly with a number of terrific family photos and excerpts from Garners’ new memoir “The Garner Files,” which I loved and reviewed here.

Please check the site out.

Anyone who’s been reading me for any amount of time (or who has seen my Twitter wallpaper), knows of my all-consuming affection for all things James Garner, most especially “The Rockford Files.” You can imagine how much this tweet meant to me.

Tell me how it gets any better than that. You can’t, because it doesn’t.

The only bad news is that if this photo on Ms. Garner’s site displays the actor’s real signature, that means I got robbed on Ebay.

Cue my well-rehearsed of-course-I-got-swindled-again Rockford face.

FINALLY: AN HONEST ASSESSMENT OF HOLLYWOOD’S BOX OFFICE BLUES

With all of Hollywood and most of their sycophant entertainment media blaming box office and DVD woes on everything but bad product, this is the rare break from that absurd narrative:

Basically, films aren’t the draw they once were. With streaming and cable and TV shows getting better and better, there’s a lot more competition now, and the longer studios ignore it and try to operate like they always have (releasing all their “smart” movies at the end of December, for instance), the more it’s going to continue to decline. Almost without exception, all the decent movies I saw this year were films that the distributors considered too niche for a broad audience and almost no one saw them, because they barely had a chance to. Meanwhile this week’s top three releases have a 2, 3, and 4 next to the titles, and all had concepts created in the 1960s or earlier. If films are going to compete long-term, they’re going to have to start giving the “niche” stuff that gets people excited about movies a chance to compete with the bland blockbusters that make money. There are only so many Dark Knights. The general public has a major ambivalence towards movies right now, and if it doesn’t get better soon it’s going to turn into a grandpa medium the way late-night TV has.

And let’s not forget Hollywood’s non-stop, 15-year assault against the 70% of their audience that isn’t liberal.

Goodwill is crucial to institutional brands and this industry has arrogantly worked overtime to squander almost all of it.

Chickens, meet the roost.

SIX MORE JAMES BOND FILMS FOR DANIEL CRAIG?

“Filming has gone very well so far and I’d love Daniel to surpass Roger’s record and do eight pictures,” Michael G. Wilson told the UK’s Sunday People. “Daniel’s been an absolute pleasure to be around because he takes the role so seriously. There’s really no one more passionate about making these films work than him – he’s a filmmaker’s dream.”

THE HOBBIT: AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY TRAILER ONLINE TUESDAY AT 7PM PST

Gentlemen, start your nerdgasms.

I kid because I love.

EVA GREEN EYES ‘300: BATTLE OF ARTEMISIA’

Ever since her memorable turn as Vesper in “Casino Royale,” I’ve been a fan. Unfortunately, Hollywood seems to be more interested in girls than women these days, and the ridiculously sexy and womanly Green hasn’t been in much.

Hopefully, everything will work out. Not that I’ll need another reason to see this.

NEW YORK TIMES BLAMES ‘LOST’ FOR EVERYTHING BAD ON TELEVISION

This is just silly:

A similar process is under way in the post- “Lost” television world. The first three seasons of “Lost” may have approached the imaginative charms of the original “Star Wars” trilogy, but the next three were nearly as awful as George Lucas’s catastrophic prequels. You could easily picture the stumped writers of “Lost,” helpless in the face of an ever-growing pile of unsolved mysteries, madly skimming Wikipedia entries on space-time geometries and black holes.

The show’s finale was the crowning disaster, the Scooby-Doo ending to end all Scooby-Doo endings. After hinting for years that their nonsensical mess would add up to something, not only did the producers Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof fail to address a tiny fraction of the trillions of mysteries they introduced, but they threw out the Lostpedia with the bath water, scrapping all of those riddles for the equivalent of Lucas’s teddy-bear victory dance: a celestial moment with the survivors, hugging and holding hands in the afterlife.

This is all ancient history — or would be, if not for the fact that the implosion of “Lost” was like a dirty bomb that made the world unsafe for serial dramas to this day.

The writer then goes on to blame “Lost” for what he sees as the sloppy execution of “Homeland” and “American Horror Story.”

First off, I caught “Lost” on DVD and while some individual episodes lacked (especially during the writers’ strike), as a whole I found the series and the finale very, very satisfying. This, I think, is the best way to watch programs that work like the old movie serials from yesteryear. Waiting a week and a full summer between chapters is a completely different experience than sitting down and devouring it like a good novel.

I haven’t seen “American Horror Story” or “Homeland” yet, but I have seen enough of Kelsey Grammer’s Starz series “Boss” and FX’s “Sons of Anarchy” (two series released after “Lost”) to argue that television’s current golden age is alive and well. The writing, acting and overall storytelling occurring on the small screen these days makes life worth living.

BROADCAST NETS DOWN, CABLE UP IN 2011

The major broadcast networks continued to see an erosion of their audiences in 2011, while cable networks saw theirs expand, according to TVbytheNumbers.com. The website said on Thursday that while ABC, CBS, Fox, and NBC saw their total household audience decline 3 percent this year, the audience for ad-support cable as a whole was up 3 percent and the top ten cable networks recorded a 4-percent gain.

A+ ‘EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE’ MOVIE REVIEW

The largest issue I had with this film was figuring out how to describe the effect it had on me emotionally. It’s a crushing film that will leave many moviegoers in a heap, but I don’t look at it as an overly sad movie even though the level of sadness on display is undeniable.

‘SURVIVOR: SOUTH PACIFIC’ WINNER REVEALED

This show is still on the air?

MARSHALL FINE’S ‘DRAGON TATTOO’ REVIEW

Is Fincher’s film better than Niels Arden Oplev’s? Not really. It’s different; it’s probably as good as the Swedish version. But better? Nope, sorry – which brings us back to the issue of the movie as a commodity, rather than an artistic vision.

I’m not impugning Fincher’s intentions; I’m just saying that, as good as his film may be, it’s redundant and unnecessary.

Is it entertaining and well-made? Absolutely. For the audience that would never dream of seeing a foreign film, this movie will be the last word in “Dragon Tattoo” movie-making. And they’ll get a quality product.

‘THR’ REVIEWS JOLIE’S DIRECTORIAL DEBUT

Jolie deserves significant credit for creating such a powerfully oppressive atmosphere and staging the ghastly events so credibly, even if it is these very strengths that will make people not want to watch what’s onscreen. All the director’s decisions were taken in the interest of heightened verisimilitude, from working in the Bosnian language (an English-language version is available as well) to using as many authentic locations as possible (some in Bosnia, others in Hungary) and having cinematographer Dean Semler employ a combat-ready style.

SHERLOCK RETURNS TO THE BBC: ‘HE’S DEFINITELY DEVILISH’

Superb series. Season one is, I think, still on Netflix.

There’s so much good television these days, you can hardly keep up.

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LAST NIGHT’S SCREENING

“A Christmas Carol” (1984) – Most people choose Alistair Sim’s 1951 version of “A Christmas Carol” as their favorite, and for good reason. But after watching the 1984 television adaptation again last night, I have to say that George C. Scott is my favorite Ebenezer Scrooge. The Academy Award-winner’s interpretation is the most human and down-to-earth, which gives an added impact to those classic lines of dialogue we all know by heart.

Scrooge’s redemption scene is especially poignant in this version, which was directed by Clive Donner, the editor of the 1951 film.

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SCOTTDS’ EPIC LINKTACULAR

‘THE DINGO STOLE MY BABY! — PART DEUX’

BRAD BIRD GIVES AN UPDATE ON HIS EARTHQUAKE MOVIE, 1906

RIDLEY SCOTT TALKS ‘PROMETHEUS’

FIRST PHOTO OF SYLVESTER STALLONE IN ‘BULLET TO THE HEAD”

‘HOMELAND’ SEASON 1 FINALE REVIEW

WILLIAM SHATNER IS COMING TO BROADWAY

‘DEXTER’ SEASON 6 FINALE REVIEW

PROFILE: PAM GRIER

‘IT TAKES A THIEF’: THE DVD DEBRIEF REVIEW

MAX VON SYDOW LOOKS BACK AT HIS WORK ON ‘FLASH GORDON’ AND ‘STRANGE BREW‘

RIDLEY SCOTT SAYS THERE WILL BE NO ALIENS IN PROMETHEUS

REAL-LIFE RUDY ACCUSED OF SCREWING INVESTORS OUT OF $11 MILLION

8 GREAT TV CHRISTMAS SPECIALS

NEW FOOTAGE FROM ‘THE AVENGERS’ IN GERMAN TRAILER

WHY ‘PERSON OF INTEREST’ IS A SUPERHERO SHOW DONE RIGHT

REJECTED GREEN GOBLIN MAKE-UP TESTS FOR SAM RAIMI’S ‘SPIDER-MAN‘

100 GREATEST JEWISH FILMS

TOP 100 CULT FILMS

10 GREAT PERFORMANCES IN BAD 2011 MOVIES

MEET THE NEW POP CULTURE, SAM AS THE OLD POP CULTURE

JOHN WILLIAMS: THE LAST MOVIE MAESTRO

6 AWESOME MOVIE AMUSEMENT PARK RIDES AND THEIR REAL LIFE LOCATIONS

TOP 15 JAMES BOND DEATHS

REVISITING THE ‘LETTERMAN’ EPISODE FEATURING ANDY KAUFMAN AND JERRY LAWLER

A LOOK BACK AT JOHN FRANKENHEIMER’S ‘SECONDS‘

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CLASSIC PICK FOR TUESDAY, DECEMBER 20

TCM:

12:30 PM  EST: Age of Innocence, The (1934) –  A young attorney risks his career for love of a glamorous divorcee. Dir: Philip Moeller Cast:  Irene Dunne, John Boles, Lionel Atwill. BW-81 mins, TV-PG, CC.

This is a rare opportunity to see the first film adaptation of Edith Wharton’s 1920 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about an aristocratic New Yorker who meets the only woman he’ll ever love after it’s too late. However, I only recommend this as a rare curiosity.

While many films produced during the same Production Code-era (like 1936’s “Dodsworth”) were able to tell stories that covered similar themes of adultery and divorce in a mature and dramatic way, 1934’s “Age of Innocence” is pretty lacking. For starters, Dunne is miscast and the overall production is stagy and surprisingly slow moving for an 81-minute film.

This is in stark contrast to Martin Scorsese’s beautifully realized 1993 adaptation that captures the longing and loss of its source material as well as any film ever could.

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Please send comments, suggestions and tips to jnolte@breitbart.com or Twitter @NolteNC.

NOTE: There will be no Call Sheet tomorrow. I am taking a vacation day.

Goddamn sonofabitch, what is it you want?!?

After four months of mourning the loss of his wife and daughter in a freak car accident, composer John Russell (George C. Scott) decides it’s time to put one foot in front of the other with a move to suburban Seattle where he’ll try to piece himself back together emotionally by writing music  and teaching it at the local university. With the help of Clair Norman (Trish Van Devere) and the local Historical Preservation Society, Russell leases a mammoth Victorian-style mansion to lose himself in.

The banging starts almost immediately. A rhythmic, haunting sound that echoes throughout the cavernous house but has no source – no earthly source anyway. Other inexplicable events and strange coincidences convince Russell there’s something supernatural going on and with Clair’s help he engages a psychic to communicate with whatever this is through a séance. The ghost is Joseph, a young boy drowned in a bathtub in the attic near the turn of the 20th Century. From here Russell will pull the thread of an age-old mystery until it unravels dark secrets long held by the city’s richest and most powerful citizens.

Elegant, classy and EXTREMELY well-directed by Peter Medak, the best way to describe the finest haunted house movie ever made is “hair-raising.” The séance sequence alone will have you turning on every light in the house while you speed-dial your mommy and you will never look at a child’s red rubber ball the same way again. With almost no violence and the best scares being solely a product of your manipulated imagination, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen the film, for the last hour the only thing that interrupts the chill down your spine are at least a half-dozen genuinely effective scares that leave you looking like this:

At the center of it all is Scott who brings his usual integrity and intensity to the role, which in this particular case serves as the perfect character trait to help with the heightening of your own fear. Because Russell is a perfectly rational and sensible character who also happens to be very hard to scare, it not only helps to make sense of his decision to stay in the house, but throughout most of the story he’s nowhere as spooked as we are.  The net-effect of this is that every time there’s a small crack in Russell’s calm; no matter how small the gesture – the dropping of a cigarette for instance – you want to throw a blanket over your head. Good grief, if he’s scared…

Supposedly the story is based upon real events that author and playwright Russell Hunter claims to have experienced during a stay at a mansion in Colorado. You can choose to buy that or not, but the lack of sensationalism, the use of seemingly mundane items to haunt us with (like a child’s antique wheelchair), and a ghostly mystery that peels away with a sense of credibility, works as evidence that back Hunter’s claim up. The underlying question, though, is always, what does Joseph want? He’s an immature child who was viciously murdered in cold blood. I’ll let you figure the rest out.  

Almost as satisfying as the scares is the undercurrent of emotional despair and loss Scott quietly shoulders through every scene. Joseph chose to reveal himself to Russell because he knew the composer’s inconsolable grief was still so raw that he could never turn his back on a child in need – even a dead one — who had suffered through such a senseless crime. Van Devere, a beautiful woman who effortlessly projects warmth, class and competence, was married to Scott at the time and the unspoken chemistry they share also adds a layer of poignancy. Were Russell not still devastated over the loss of his family, you get a sense he and Clair might have shared something together. As the credits roll and your goose-pimples begin to un-pimple, you‘re left with the bittersweet hope that they might find a way to be together.

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What didn’t make the list: The Haunting (1963)

I might have mentioned this in a previous post, but it’s still showing up a lot in the comments. The first and last few minutes are pure rock and roll. What’s in the middle bores me stiff. I’ve given the movie a couple of tries and it now sits on a pile with Raging Bull and 2001 as classics I wasted my DVD allowance on. And yes, I do have a DVD allowance, and no it’s not enough but negotiations between my wife and I are always ongoing.

Maybe it’s the “bombs bursting” in the Star Spangled Banner, or the evening fireworks, or simply that the smell of barbeque in the afternoon reminds me of napalm (actually, it’s either victory, or lighter fluid).

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So when the wiener hits the grill, I’m hankering for some Heartbreak Ridge.  I’m weak-kneed for a little Where Eagles Dare.  I’m jonesing for a piece o’ that… Johnny Tremain.  (You try and find a good war movie that starts with a “J.”)

Most of all, I pine for Patton.  Few celluloid moments can top that iconic opening scene for patriotic bliss.  First off, you’ve got that humongous American flag backdrop.  And you’ve got the general himself in full fruit-salad regalia, delivering the greatest pep talk since Henry V’s St. Crispin’s Day speech.

The script, co-written by Francis Ford Coppola, is endlessly quotable.  “No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country.  He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.”  “Rommel, you magnificent bastard, I read your book!”

And a personal favorite, which Patton cribbed from the French Revolution:  “L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace!“  Try saying that next time the wife nags you to get off the couch.

The movie is thick with ironies, not the least of which is that it was intended as an anti-war film.  Patton (the movie and the man) is a true American original, a human Rorschach test.

Liberals see in him a dangerous blow-hard who should be locked up; everybody else just wishes he were alive today and commanding in Afghanistan.  (And then on to Russia!)

Chinese premier Zhou Enlai studied Patton to learn about America’s character before his historic meeting with Richard Nixon.  I like to think that when the commie bastard realized what he was up against, he crapped his Mao suit.

Peachiness is nothing new to Oscar; it has been going on as far back as when those in Tinseltown hid in a Red closet while whispering “Government borscht for all.” The only thing that’s changed is the lack of awareness the winners have to the people who pay for their product, the product being they and their films, and the level of daftness that some accepting the award go to in an effort to feel more powerful than the money and fame they already have. Speaking out can be a good thing, especially when the speakers motive is to lift the awareness of all. Yet in Hollywood, a self-important attitude is hard for most to drop, as is the party line.

Last year, Sean Penn, a man with numerous felony charges including charges of violence against woman, and one who panders to tyrants the world over, preached to Americans after his win of the horrible and hateful state of mind that has fallen upon those who do not see the world as he does. The people of California came to their decision on gay marriage freely by vote, twice. Nevertheless, to Sean Penn the will of the people is only ever served when it slants in his favor or gives way to a photo op of him in a New Orleans boat shotgun in hand. Even his recent Haiti trip ultimately became just a reason for him to have face time on Larry King while hitting “Wiffle Ball” questions out of the park in the hopes of improving his public image, which is limited.

More often winners become so emotional that they lose it on stage like a Springer Spaniel wetting the carpet of its Masters home. Then becoming unable to articulate an awareness needed to give an educated speech in regards to the character they portrayed and how that role may be transferred to a larger audience for greater exposure. The speech they should have given gets lost in the moment of the self.

Case in point, Julia Roberts and Halle Berry

Julia Roberts won Best Actress for playing a strong, tough, stubborn, sexy mother who as a legal clerk took on a corrupt system and won. Yet in Miss Roberts acceptance speech, she failed to thank the very woman who made her Oscar possible, Erin Brockovich. Rather than give a focused acceptance speech empowering young woman to go into the world and become something powerful, (So long as they don’t become Conservative women from Alaska of course.) she giggled like a hyena that’d been poked by a canister of helium set aside for a Macy’s day float. She blathered on about how great she felt to be up on stage, how she never wanted to get down from the stage and how pretty her dress was. She then thanked her boyfriend of the month, her agents, the mountains, the forest, the rain, the sun and all the other geniuses disguised as Hollywood nature. All while forgetting the possibility of the moment, a chance to empower all women with her film.

Interracial discrimination takes place inside the black community in regards to shade of skin color. Many in the black community openly cried foul that Halle Berry was too light skinned to be the first black woman to win an Oscar for Best Actress. Miss Berry never saw the struggles that single black mothers living in this country see every day, but make no mistake, in today’s culture she is seen as a black woman.

Yet Miss Berry, looking as if she’d just come from a Pakistani interrogation room at the announcement of her name, took the stage unable to seize the gravity of her win and blew her chance to make a thoughtful speech about what it’s like to be a black woman of any shade in the world, not just Hollywood. Instead she glazed over the subject with “And now the door is open for all black actresses” as if the best thing for young black woman to do is head off to the crapshoot that is Hollywood. Miss Berry went on to thank Warren Betty, Spike Lee, her agent, manager, her mother, her future ex-husband and on, and on, all while saline flowed from her eyes, snot leaped from her nostrils like bungee jumpers and facial tics took hold suggesting that the Pakistani electrodes where still clipped on and the voltage was on high.

Bush Derangement Syndrome Infects Oscar 2003

Michael Moore is a man who could benefit from Michelle Obama’s war on childhood obesity. Because he is not only fat, but also because he lives in a constant state of infancy making up stories and presenting them to the public as fact like the boy who cried wolf.

Therefore, it came as no surprise when the bariatric blob took hold of his Oscar and was the first to expose “Bush Derangement Syndrome.” He invited his fellow documentary nominees on the stage and said, “I’ve invited my fellow documentary nominees on the stage with us. They are here in solidarity with me because we like nonfiction. We like nonfiction and we live in fictitious times. We live in the time when we have fictitious election results that elect a fictitious president. We live in a time where we have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons, whether it is the fiction of duct tape or the fiction of orange alerts. We are against this war, Mr. Bush. Shame on you, Mr. Bush. Shame on you. And any time that you have the Pope and the Dixie Chicks against you, your time is up.”

Choosing to come off as just another elitist slob patting himself on the back while giving a lefty hand job the attending crowd, Michelle Moore wasted an opportunity to say something intelligent and though provoking for all to ponder. The show business people in the audience cheered his ridiculous statement and the teamster back stage booed into off stage microphones.

That same night the visiting aliens (Sorry, the undocumented performers.) couldn’t help getting into the act when the “Shark jumping” Bono, having taken his own temperature with his head and finding a slight fever of Bush Derangement Syndrome sang his two cents.

In a veiled protest against the war, which went unreported, Bono, sang “The Hands that Built America” from Gangs of New York, changing two lines of the song:

It’s early fall, there is a cloud on the New York skyline,
Innocents across a yellow line.

Became,
Late in the spring, yellow cloud on a desert skyline,
Some father’s son, is it his or is it mine.

I thank you for the poetic insight Bono, now go plant some potatoes and worry about your own country because your last CD sucked.

In addition, that night our neighbors to the south drop this bomb of wisdom on us via the Jewish-Mexican-American uprising when ‘Frida’ composer Elliot Goldenthal expressed his admiration for the not-currently-fighting-with-Iraq country of Mexico.

Elliot Goldenthal, clearly a “Mexican National,” failed to mention that the reason Mexico is not fighting with us, is that it is too busy fighting itself and that the only country they ever fought and defeated was France. Not the greatest bragging rights yet every year on May 5th we in the US feel the ridiculous need to have a margarita and fucking burrito.

In fairness, that same year the Motion Picture Academy allowed a short conservative rebuttal to any liberal-leaning statements made regarding the war in Iraq. In a press conference that Saturday, Academy President Frank Pierson announced that in fairness to the noble soldiers and “the people who fund our movies”, a Republican representative would be given “equal time” at the end of the ceremony to counterbalance any leftist remarks made by Oscar winners during the program.

Many members of the film community were greatly displeased by the announcement because it brought balance and fact to their Utopian mindset. No one displayed this better than the war historian and geopolitical analyst Renee Zellweger when she said, “I think it’s all a bunch of bull-honky. Winners should get to say whatever they want. I don’t like the war no matter what, and when Mr. Republican-pants gets up there to speak I’m just putting my fingers in my ears and going la-la-la-la-la!”

In the past when an Oscar winner had something to say, they did it with more creativity and insight by not making it about them. In Marlon Brando’s case, it was more imaginative and lasting than anything you will see today.

When Brando refused his Best Actor Award, instead choosing to stay home to eat cookies and milk on his rattan furniture, he sent Sacheen Littlefeather to the 1972 Academy Awards to say “Marlon Brando very regretfully cannot accept this very generous award. And the reason for this being is the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry.” If Sean Penn fancies himself as the A-hole Brando, then he should have taken a queue from Marlon and sent Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi to the stage with a Judge from San Francisco’s 9th Circuit Court of Appeal to accept his award.

Then there is George C. Scott, who went out of the box before there was a box, and informed the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences via telegram that he would reject a nomination as Best Actor for his portrayal of Gen. George S. Patton in Patton. Though he had tried before to withdraw from an Oscar race-for a Best Supporting Actor nod for 1960’s The Hustler — this time the 43-year-old actor declared that he would simply not accept.

George C Scott returned his Oscar for Patton, stating in a letter to the Academy that he didn’t feel himself to be in competition with other actors. However, also regarding this second rejection of the Academy Award, Scott famously said elsewhere, “The whole thing is a goddamn meat parade. I don’t want any part of it.” You will never hear that from a star today.

The speech that came closest to what an Oscar speech should be was Joe Pesci’s when he won for “Goodfellas.” It should be the framework for all Oscar victory speeches. Pesci stepped to the stage, graciously took the award and said, “I am humbled. Thank you.” Then walked off, unfortunately never to be heard from again.

Warren Beatty famously said, “The Golden Globes are fun. The Oscars are business.” In that sentiment can be found what an Oscar speech should really be. The truly crafted artist of the world know their place and how to maintain the mystery of their craft by being seen and heard on film and leaving the social passions of their heart to themselves.

Only a truly self-realized actor would know that the purpose of his Oscar award speech is to recognize that they and their film are products. That the podium is chance to promote that product to the world by simply plugging their movie to those who’ve yet to purchase the manufactured goods and to say thank you to those who did.

But don’t hold your breath hoping Hollywood will change its speech impediment and get the words out right. I can hear Will Smith now accepting his award for Best Actor at the 2014 Oscars for his portrayal of Barak Obama. He’ll talk of the shameful racist nature of the American people as he quotes the president by saying to Barack seated in the front row “You were so right Mr. President, it’s better to be a really good one term President than a bad two term President. Shame on you America, shame on you.”

Scott’s characterization of Ole’ Ebeneezer is more grounded and less theatrical than the others, especially after the three ghostly visits where the Oscar-winning actor chooses not to transform his character into a completely different person, at least not on the outside. Instead, Scott’s post-visitation Scrooge retains the gruff booming voice and regal presence, with the only visible proof that something’s changed and softened and different found in the old man’s eyes;  a bittersweet mix of joy and love, and most touchingly, regret.

As with every other adaptation, we’re left with no doubt that Ebeneezer will forever hold Christmas in his heart and live out the rest of his life a generous man and employer. But in the film’s closing moments the quiet power of Scott’s performance tells us something inexpressibly moving about Scrooge’s future as he gazes upon his nephew’s young wife and briefly speaks of the girl he loved and lost forever so many years ago to his own greed and ambition. With just a few words and that otherworldly “thing” only great actors possess, Scott reminds us that there’s a lonely last mile on the road to redemption, and that Scrooge’s journey towards forgiving himself has only just begun. 

“God forgive me for the time I’ve wasted.”

Even for an actor as accomplished as Scott, this is an impressive and unforgettable performance.

With Scott commanding every moment, it’s easy to miss just how good David Warner’s Bob Crachit is — a wonderful and understated portrait of devotion and melencholy, and as his loving wife, Susannah York’s strong but quiet dignity provides a nice contrast. Most impressive is a wonderful actor we lost just a few weeks ago. Going toe to toe with Scott in the charisma department as the Ghost of Christmas Present, Edward Woodward more than holds his own with a larger-than-life performance mixed perfectly with equal parts bare-chested gusto, and contempt and compassion for the prideful old man in his charge.   

Veteran English director Clive Donner’s attention to atmosphere and detail (Marley’s jaw dropping open, anyone?) transports us back centuries, and it’s hard to imagine how differently things might have turned out had the production not been shot on-location in Shrewsbury, England. Everything from the interiors to the wardrobe to the sound design and musical score have held up remarkably well over the last quarter century (there’s a depressing thought). With the exception of a hairstyle or two, thankfully, nothing about one of the finest television films ever broadcast screams 80s…

So with the authority given to me by no one, I hereby declare George C. Scott’s 1984 version of  “A Christmas Carol” a timeless Christmas classic.

Read the full list here.

Let’s start with the cast:  James Stewart.  George C. Scott.  Lee Remick.  Eve Arden.  Ben Gazzara.  Even Big Hollywood’s own Orson Bean in a supporting part as a doctor who plays a key role in the story.  If you love movies, you only needed to get to the word “George” before you were adding it to your NetFlix queue.

The plot is simple.  Small-town lawyer Paul Biegler (Stewart), who is more concerned with fishing than his practice, is talked into meeting Army lieutenant Fred Manion, who is sitting in jail for the murder of the man the soldier claims raped his wife Laura (The hotter-than-hot Remick).  Beigler takes the case, and faces off with Claude Dancer (Scott), the ace prosecutor sent in from the big city to chalk up yet another conviction.   There is much more to the story – the movie is a brisk two hours forty minutes long – but there’s no sense in going into the details here.  You just need to know this:  Jimmy Stewart goes up against George C. Scott in court.  Case closed.

The sparks fly in the courtroom under the direction of Otto Preminger, the enfant terrible of 50s and 60s Tinseltown, but the interesting part (at least for a lawyer) is that the film covers all aspects of the trial, in and out of the courtroom.  Cases are often won not in front of the jury but hunched over a dusty book of old cases (or, today, in front of a computer screen looking at precedent online), and Anatomy doesn’t hesitate to show the hard work involved in putting up a defense. 

That sounds dull as dirt, but Anatomy is anything but.  Stewart is helped by his burned out, alcoholic mentor Parnell, played perfectly by Arthur O’Connell.  His character is funny, irascible, sad and, in the end, redeemed.  O’Connell even manages to steal scenes from Jimmy Stewart while snagging a best Supporting Actor nomination for himself (Stewart and Scott both earned Oscar nominations as well).

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Preminger was known for the pushing boundaries, and he does it again here.  This was 1959, and audiences must have been in for a shock not only hearing a frank discussion of topics like sexual climax and seminal fluid on the big screen but hearing it come from the mouth of George Bailey himself.  But it’s not exploitation – it’s reality, and there is nothing wrong with adults viewing adult subject matter.  If only films today were brave enough to put forward an ambiguous character like Laura Manion – perhaps a rape victim, but perhaps something else.  They’d be picketed by bitter, snarling feminists furious over the movie’s rejection of easy archetypes and easier answers.  And almost no studio today would risk the ending either – an ending that is a perfect fit for what comes before. 

The beauty of Anatomy is how it never treats its audience like children.  Its characters are fallible – sometimes they drink to excess, smoke, have questionable morals and lie, but the movie expects the audience to understand that human beings are not purely black and white.  That audience had come through three terrible wars and the Great Depression.  They knew something about real life even if most of what Hollywood was putting out was sanitized and saccharine.

If Anatomy was being remade today, those twit studio suits would probably try to push Josh Hartnett as Beigler, Scarlett Johansson as Laura, and some kid from a CW TV series about vampires as the accused.  It’s sad that there are so many mediocrities out there today, and sadder that the suits don’t even realize it.  No matter how hard she tried, the pretty but vacant Johansson could never get anywhere as close to down and dirty as Lee Remick does here.   And there’s no comparison in life experience – Stewart flew B-24s over Dusseldorf; Harnett looks like he bursts into tears when he runs out of his Axe body spray. 

The only problem with Anatomy in my book is the music.  It’s jazz, and aficionados of that art form hail Duke Ellington’s soundtrack as a masterpiece.  But if you feel that jazz is like a colonoscopy for your ears, the musical interludes can be downright painful.

It’s been a summer of sequels to lumbering blockbusters that should have never been made in the first place, twee romances between self-consciously awkward 20-something nerds, and big screen adaptations of “graphic novels” that demonstrate why generations of parents past declared comic books a pernicious waste of time.  Now give  Anatomy of a Murder a look – it is a reminder that not all films are aimed squarely at the half-wit demographic.

Because it’s Oscar Sunday and the whole world is focused on the Kodak Theatre and the red carpet parade about to happen, it seems fitting that Broadway throws Hollywood a bone today.  Also, considering every other Broadway show these days seems to be a staged version of a popular movie, (“Shrek”, “Wedding Singer”… Really?) it seems appropriate to shine a little light on a Broadway Musical that has been adapted to film. 

My opinion is that in most cases, Broadway musicals are rarely improved by their film adaptations.  Even the good film versions of musicals are still not as theatrically thrilling or as emotionally impactful as the experience of seeing these shows live.  “Chicago”, “Hairspray” and “Phantom of the Opera” are all very recent examples of fine film adaptations.  But I contend that even in the case of ”Chicago”, an Oscar winner, the theatre version was superior.

However, there are a few exceptions and in one extraordinary case, the film version is so superior than the stage version, that it is almost painful to sit through the original theatrical piece.  That exception is “The Sound of Music”.

The film version of “The Sound of Music” is superior to the original play in every way.  In fact, lately many local amateur productions of the stage version of “The Sound of Music” have even adopted some of the changes made for the film and implemented them on stage.

Since I come from the theatre perspective, it’s difficult for me to fully analyze what makes a film great, but I will point out the major differences between the original stage version and the brilliant movie.

Locations, locations, locations.

The biggest difference, and in many ways the most significant, is that through the film version we are actually transported to the beautiful locations discussed in the show.  We actually SEE Maria singing at the top of her lungs on a beautiful mountain on the Vienna/Swiss border.  We follow the children through the streets of Vienna as they learn to sing.  We are caught in a high-speed chase as the family flees the Nazis in the dark of night.  Austria is one of the characters in “The Sound of Music” and when you have to sit and watch a stage version you really miss those beautiful scenes in the film.

Nothing, nothing, NOTHING beats this incredible opening sequence and it can ONLY be done on film:

Now THAT’S a nun I could fall in love with.

OK, I know its a bit of theatrical heresy to state my next point, but thankfully, I am still anonymous and the theatre police will not come after me and lock me up for whispering a truth that we all know but are not supposed to reveal:  Mary Martin was never really that great.  I know, I know, she’s a legend and she has more Tonys than a good Little Italy restaurant and she was box office gold… but, come on!  Do you really believe that Captain Von Trapp would mess up a good thing with a baroness to take a chance on Sister Mary Martin?  And, wasn’t she a little too old to be a young novice?  I think she could have been a Mother Superior back in 1959.

Meanwhile, Julie Andrews was nothing short of perfection.  Her’s is a timeless performance and she is utterly believable not only as a young, innocent nun, but also as a beautiful romantic love interest and as a mother figure to the children.

Also, Christopher Plummer is brilliant in the very thankless role of Captain Von Trapp.  Again, believable as a stern but loving father, but he also makes a perfect transition to romantic love interest.  A huge improvement over the original Broadway casting of folk singer Theodore Bikel.

A few of my favorite things.

When the film version of “The Sound of Music” was written, the creators made a few structural changes to the show and re-arranged a few songs.  The minor adjustments they made are so incredibly logical and improve the flow of the story and the pace of the first act that it almost seems a crime that the original stage version is not officially re-written to reflect the film version’s structure.  The major differences are:

• On Broadway, during the rain storm when the children all come to Maria’s room to hide from the thunder and lightening, the song Maria sings to make them feel better is “Lonely Goatherd”!  Can you even imagine that song in that context now?  “My Favorite Things” is the PERFECT song for that scene and how they didn’t put it there in the first place is a mystery.

• Wait, it gets stranger… in the original Broadway version, “My Favorite Things” is actually a duet between Maria and Mother Superior sung at the convent prior to Maria going to join the Von Trapp family as a governess.  Mother Superior sings it to Maria to give her confidence to leave the convent.
• In the Broadway version, the characters of Max and Elsa (the baroness) are given a couple of ill-advised songs, “How Can Love Survive” and “There’s No Way to Stop It” that are wisely and thankfully excised from the film.  Max and Elsa don’t need to sing, and keeping these songs from them does not diminish their characters, in fact it gives them more weight and importance by keeping them “straight”.
• The love song between the Captain and Maria on Broadway is a real clunker called “An Ordinary Couple” which sounds more like an older couple planning their retirement years rather than two star-crossed lovers throwing convention aside and following their overwhelming emotional desire for each other:

An ordinary couple
Is all we’ll ever be,
For all I want of living
Is to keep you close to me;
To laugh and weep together
While time goes on its flight,
To kiss you every morning
And to kiss you every night.

We’ll meet our daily problems,
And rest when day is done,
Our arms around each other
In the fading sun.

An ordinary couple,
Across the years we’ll ride,
Our arms around each other,
And our children by our side…
Our arms around each other.

Zzzzzzzzzzzz….oh, I’m sorry, is the song done yet?  Compare those lyrics to the ones written for the film version:

Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are
Standing there
Loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

Doesn’t that better reflect the seriousness of the romance?  And the way it is filmed is romantic and kinda hot!

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So this may be the only time you hear me say it, but if a stage version of “The Sound of Music” is playing near you…. ehhh…. skip it.  Get the DVD of the amazing film, and make your kids watch it.  The movie’s got EVERYTHING:

• GREAT songs
• GREAT cast
• Cute kids
• Beautiful scenery
• Funny nuns
• Beautiful romance
• And the bad guys are NAZIS!  What more do you want??!!??

What better song for this week’s finale than:  “So Long, Farewell”?  ENJOY THE OSCARS!

One more encore….

OOPS!  I almost forgot the trivia!  I ALWAYS like to share a little trivia or an inside theatrical anecdote about the shows we discuss on Sunday Matinee.  So… This week, I’ll merge the two themes:  “The Sound of Music” and award shows!

1960 is still one of the most debated and talked about Tony Award seasons ever.  It was chock full of competition and incredibly surprising winners.

In the Best Musical category “The Sound of Music” was up against another classic:  “Gypsy”, as well as “Fiorello!”, “Once Upon a Mattress” starring Carol Burnett in here legendary Broadway debut AND “Take Me Along” starring none other than Jackie Gleason in his triumphant return to Broadway. Also starring in “Take Me Along” and nominated for Best Actor in a Musical:  Robert Morse and Walter Pidgeon… also nominated for Best Actor in a Musical:  Andy Griffith in “Destry Rides Again”!

There’s more… while you were in town and you wanted to see a play instead of a musical, you could have seen:   Sidney Poitier in “A Raisin in the Sun” or Jason Robards, Irene Worth and Maureen Stapleton in “Toys in the Attic” or George C. Scott in “The Andersonville Trial” or how about Melvyn Douglas in “The Best Man”?  Or, Geraldine Page and Rip Torn in “Sweet Bird of Youth”!  Or, perhaps you couldn’t get tickets to those plays… you could settle for Anne Bancroft in “The Miracle Worker”!  Meanwhile, Jane Fonda in “There Was a Little Girl”, Roddy McDowell in “The Fighting Cock” and Warren Beatty in “A Loss of Roses” round out the “youth movement” in the 1960 season.

Imagine that season:  Jackie Gleason, Carol Burnett, Mary Martin, Ethel Merman, Andy Griffith, Robert Morse, Walter Pidgeon, Sidney Poitier, Jason Robards, Irene Worth, Maureen Stapleton, George C. Scott, Melvyn Douglas, Geraldine Page, Rip Torn, Anne Bancroft, Jane Fonda, Roddy McDowell and Warren Beatty… top ticket price:  $5.00

So, since this is awards day, let’s reveal the winners from 1960:

Best Musical:  A very rare TIE!  And NOT the two shows you expect:  “The Sound of Music” and….. that timeless classic, the often revived and unforgettable….. ”Fiorello!”  That’s right:  “Fiorello!”… NOT “Gypsy!”  NOT Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents and Jerome Robbins creating a masterpiece of American Musical Theatre… no, instead we honored “Fiorello!”.  What were they thinking (drinking)?  (Makes that whole “Shakespeare in Love” over “Saving Private Ryan” & “Life is Beautiful” almost acceptable, doesn’t it?)

Best Play:  “The Miracle Worker” beating out “Toys in the Attic”, “The Best Man”, “A Raisin in the Sun” and Paddy Chayefsky’s “The Tenth Man”!

Best Actor in a Play:  Melvyn Douglas over Poitier, Robards and Scott.

Best Actress in a Play:  Anne Bancroft

Best Actress in a Musical:  NOT Ethel Merman giving a performance anyone would give there right appendage to have witnessed.  NOT Carol Burnett in a performance anyone would have given their OTHER appendage to have seen… no, the winner that year was….   Mary Martin…. seriously… Mary Martin.  {sigh}

Best Actor in a Musical:  The man who never won an Emmy Award for his groundbreaking work on television… Jackie Gleason.  How sweet it is!

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Noon PST – Anatomy Of A Murder (1959) – A small-town lawyer gets the case of a lifetime when a military man avenges an attack on his wife. Cast: James Stewart, Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara, Arthur O’Connell Dir: Otto Preminger BW-161 mins, TV-PG

Mature, very well-acted, classic courtroom drama, painstakingly directed by Otto Preminger and just as watchable a second time because knowing the outcome of a great film, even one that climaxes with a verdict, takes nothing away from well-crafted characters, top-notch dialogue, and individual scenes that become living things all on their own.

The real standout is George C. Scott, who’s much less an actor here and much more of a reactor as his prosecuting attorney tries to figure out how to handle Jimmy Stewart’s aw-shucks chess moves with his own. Scott’s cross examinations are especially good; a mixture of intensity, manipulation, and oily, calculating, intelligent charm.

Preminger’s genius is in making the audience a member of the jury and co-conspirator in wanting to see Lt. Manion (Ben Gazzara) set free for killing the man who raped his wife (a captivating Lee Remick). Stewart’s “temporary insanity” defense is never all that convincing, but we sure want to be convinced.

Be sure to tune in just past the two hour mark when Big Hollywood’s own Orson Bean arrives as Army Psychiatrist Dr. Matthew Smith. His memorable scene with Arthur O’Connell upon arriving at the train station exemplifies the charming character moments that makes “Anatomy” so timeless. So good is the scene that in 1981, Sidney Lumet would “borrow” from it for “The Verdict” when Jack Warden is similarly surprised and worried to discover an important witness (also a doctor) doesn’t exactly look like everyone had hoped.