I am willing to wager my house that not one of my son’s seventh-grade classmates could identify John Locke in a photo. I am then willing to let that wager ride on another gamble that less than one percent of the seventh or eighth-graders in the Los Angeles Unified School District would be able to identify Locke in a photo array of historical figures. Double or nothing that not only would they not know who he is, but they would also have no idea of why he is important. I would then bet my entire stack of chips that a substantially higher number of middle-school students could identify Karl Marx. I anticipate being a very wealthy man.

This venture came to my mind following an end of the year visit to my son’s middle-school.

My wife and I attended a parents’ night at our son’s school. As we entered his English classroom, I noticed that the walls of the classroom were covered with photos of Karl Marx, Joseph Stalin, and Vladimir Lenin. The eighth-grade students had been studying George Orwell’s “Animal Farm.” On every wall was a hand-made poster featuring a photo of Karl Marx, some biographical information, along with some pithy bit of wisdom attributed to him. As we left the room, I whispered to my son, “Tell your teacher that your father wants to know when she will teach the work of John Locke.” My son responded, “Who is John Locke?” (more…)

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To begin with, writing this first editorial for Big Hollywood feels as threatening as the moment I entered California to do my first big film-role in Glory Boy, originally and more comprehensively titled, My Old Man’s Place.

“Do I really want that face I see in the rushes  … the one that looks an awful lot like me … do I want it running around the movie houses of the world?”

By then, of course, it was too late. I’d already signed a contract.

Director Elia Kazan accepts an honorary Oscar (1999)

I’ve already said yes to Andrew Breitbart … and though I’ve been writing editorials on enterstageright.com for more than a few years … this actual return to Hollywood … uh … Big Hollywood, no less … is as disturbing as those memories of My Old Man’s Place.

What does Big Hollywood mean?

Is it a tribute or in-house sarcasm? (more…)