We here at the Monkey recently stumbled across this long-out-of-print audiobook version of Hunter S. Thompson's classic exercise in Gonzo journalism, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It's heavily-abridged and plays more like a radio drama from some parallel universe where Bob Hope dropped acid and Jack Benny was an axe murderer, but it's highly entertaining in its own right. Much better, in my opinion, than the Johnny Depp movie that followed it.
The late great Harry Dean Stanton reads Thompson's interior monologues and Jim Jarmusch and Maury Chaykin provide the dialogue.
If you've never read Fear and Loathing, it's Thompson's (ostensibly) non-fiction account of a long weekend he and his attorney spent in Las Vegas with a side trip to search for the American Dream.
They went well provisioned:
"We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers ... and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls."
I say "ostensibly non-fiction" because as Thompson himself later admitted, nobody could have done all the things they allegedly did and lived to talk about it.
As twisted and irresponsible and depraved as their behavior was, though, it was nothing compared to what passed as normal in Nixon's America. "The Circus-Circus," he wrote, "is what the whole hep world would be doing Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war" — the implication being that the Nazis had won the war, just in 1968 instead of 1945.
That's a point of view that seems hilariously quaint in retrospect and I can only imagine what Thompson would have made of our current state of affairs. Oh, well.
1) Best movie of 2016
I liked Hell or High Water and Love & Friendship. Haven't seen Manchester by the Sea yet, for which I have high hopes.
2) Worst movie of 2016
There were, according to imdb.com, 12,414 movies released in 2016. I haven't seen enough of them to have any idea what might be the worst.
3) Best actress of 2016
I thought Kate Beckinsale should have gotten more notice for Love & Friendship.
4) Best actor of 2016
Jeff Bridges got the nominations for Hell or High Water but Chris Pine did the heavy lifting. Heard good things about Casey Affleck in Manchester by the Sea.
5) What movie from 2016 would you prefer not hearing another word about? Why?
Since blogspot ate all my movie links in October and we dropped our subscription to New Yorker before that, I haven't heard or read much about anything movie-related. Have people been talking about movies?
6) Second-favorite Olivier Assayas movie
You flatter me by assuming I know who Olivier Assayas is.
7) Miriam Hopkins or Kay Francis?
Miriam Hopkins, although Kay Francis got the better of her when they squared off in Trouble in Paradise. Favorite Miriam Hopkins performance? Design for Living followed by Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931). I wrote about the latter here. Dig her in Lubitsch's The Smiling Lieutenant, too.
8) What’s the story of your first R-rated movie?
A bunch of misfits join a college fraternity. Hi-jinks ensue. Although that's probably not what you meant. I want to say my first R-rated movie was Animal House, but I can't swear to it. Anyway, I saw it with a pal and his father. No sneaking around, no shy tittering behind raised hands, just three people watching a very funny movie.
9) What movie from any era that you haven’t yet seen would you be willing to resolve to see before this day next year?
I'm not committing myself to anything.
10) Second-favorite Pedro Almodovar movie
I don't know. Volver?
11) What movie do you think comes closest to summing up or otherwise addressing the qualities of 2016?
Apparently they never made a movie of It Can't Happen Here, so maybe A Face in the Crowd?
12) Chris Pine or Chris Pratt?
Like them both. If I were casting the movie running in my head, I'd cast Chris Pratt if I wanted to emphasize the comedic elements of the story, Chris Pine the dramatic.
13) Your favorite movie theater, presently or from the past
AFI-Silver in Silver Spring, Maryland, particularly theater one.
14) Favorite movie involving a family celebration Hannah and Her Sisters revolved around a series of family celebrations (rather than celebrations of family). That might be the best. Still, the most under-rated is The Ref, starring Denis Leary as a thief who takes Judy Davis, Kevin Spacey and their family hostage at Christmas time. O.Henry style hilarity ensues. If you broke into my house and forced me to watch one of the two, I'd watch The Ref.
15) Second-favorite Paul Schrader movie Taxi Driver, I suppose, although I don't like it nearly as much as most others do.
16) Ruth Negga or Hayley Atwell?
Hayley Atwell. I thought the first season of TV's Agent Carter was terrific.
17) Last three movies you saw, in any format La La Land at the theater. Pleasantly meh. The Maltese Falcon on DVD. Classic. The Thin Man streaming. Classic.
18) Your first X-rated, or porn movie?
It's been so long since I've seen a porn movie, Ronald Reagan was president and porn stars had pubic hair!
19) Richard Boone or Charles McGraw?
Is this a trick question? Richard Boone.
20) Second-favorite Chan-wook Park movie
Ate a bagel in Bryant Park last time I was in New York, does that count?
21) Movie that best encompasses or expresses loneliness The Apartment is probably my favorite. The "Over The Rainbow" sequence of The Wizard of Oz may be my favorite scene on the subject.
22) What’s your favorite movie to watch with your best friend?
Well, my best friend is Katie-Bar-The-Door. I'd say my favorite movie to watch with her is whichever one we're watching together.
23) Who’s the current actor you most look forward to seeing in 2017?
Looking forward to seeing Kristen Bell in the season (and probably series) finale of The Good Place tomorrow night.
24) Your New Year’s wish for the movies
That Katie-Bar-The-Door and I actually make it to the movies with our pals from time to time.
Some attribute the quote to Preacher Roe, a major league pitcher from 1938 to 1954. Ian Matthews released an album by that title in 1974. Sam Elliott quotes it to great effect in 1998's The Big Lebowski.
Personally, I think it was William Faulkner in an early draft of his short story "The Bear." If it wasn't, it should have been.
Which reminds me of an article Ken Ringle wrote for the Washington Post many years ago, recalling his days as a graduate student in Faulkner's class:
We would sit there gaping, wracking our under-booked brains for some question that wouldn’t make us look stupid.
“Mr. Faulkner, in your short story ‘The Bear,’ do you consider the bear a positive nature symbol or a negative nature symbol or a symbol both positive and negative like the white whale in Moby-Dick?”
“Oh,” he’d eventually say in his thin, reedy voice, after puffing on his pipe long enough to raise the suspense: “That’s just a story about a bear.”
The recent death of Ann B. Davis, who played the housekeeper Alice on The Brady Bunch, has inspired a spate of what "she meant to me" posts and articles. Well, she was a human being and she did something that a lot of people liked, so why not. It's okay with me.
As the show's target audience when it premiered on ABC television in 1969—that is to say, an eight year old kid—I did watch The Brady Bunch, but it really was a bad show and it never captured my imagination the way that, say, Rocky and Bullwinkle or Jonny Quest did. The actors were devoid of edge, the jokes were Hallmark greeting card safe, and the plots—my God, the plots—well, that's the point of this short post.
The Brady Bunch was when I finally realized that stories weren't something that organically "happened" as a result of the collision of a person's innate character traits with changing needs and circumstances, but were instead a series of artificial hoops that actors reading lines jumped through. At least, on bad television.
I remember thinking when Greg developed a crush on his teacher in early 1970, "wait a minute, didn't Opie fall in love with his teacher on The Andy Griffith Show?" At least in that case, Opie's teacher also happened to be his father's girlfriend—talk about your Freudian can of worms! But what a coincidence. Or was it?
It wasn't the first time The Brady Bunch would recycle a sit-com plot, nor the last, and I soon realized that most shows recycled plots and that most of the time, you could predict with some certainty what was going to happen on practically every show on television.
And it finally occurred to me that stories don't happen, they are told, and somebody—why not me?!—has to tell them.
But you can only have a particular epiphany once and The Brady Bunch was mine.
That by the spring of 1972 I had decided to become a writer, and that I recycled plots for my own amusement, is probably a coincidence. But maybe not. Every moment, no matter how small, is part of a chain that leads to the present. Who can say which of those moments is the vital link? Not me.
So, Brady Bunch, for making your crapitude transparent to at least one future writer, we here at the Monkey salute you!
My copy of A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True arrived in the mail today and soon enough I will serve up my review of it here at the Monkey. Steel-True has received terrific reviews and I'm looking forward to reading it—if you've been following the Monkey for any length of time, you know Stanwyck is one of my very favorites.
In the meantime, the book's author, Victoria Wilson, will be presenting a series of Stanwyck's films at the AFI-Silver just down the road in Silver Spring, Maryland. Here is the schedule:
Saturday, November 16
1 pm — The Purchase Price
4 pm — The Bitter Tea of General Yen
Sunday, November 17
1 pm — Baby Face
3:20 pm — Illicit
5:30 pm — Remember the Night
Wilson will be signing copies of her book on both Saturday and Sunday.
Katie-Bar-The-Door and I are going to try to make it to Baby Face on Sunday and then maybe stick around for Illicit (the only one of these I haven't seen). Baby Face might be the pre-Code-y-est pre-Code film ever made, the straw that broke the censor's back. The Bitter Tea of General Yen is an A+ film, but Baby Face has to be seen to be believed.
In addition, there will be encore presentations of Illicit on Monday, Baby Face on Tuesday and Remember the Night on Wednesday. But sadly, no Victoria Wilson. So if you're in the DC area, block out some time this weekend and treat yourself.
The 2013 Library of Congress National Book Festival is this weekend down on the National Mall. Among those authors present will be one of the Monkey's favorites, Christel Schmidt whose book Mary Pickford: Queen of the Movies is indispensable for fans of Mary Pickford, silent cinema or movies generally.
She'll be making some sort of speech (no doubt a good one) on Saturday at 10:55 a.m. in the History & Biography tent (near the Smithsonian Metro stop) and then signing copies of her book between Noon and 1 p.m.
Here's a picture of Christel. If you don't have an autographed copy of her book (I've got mine!), toddle on down there and tell her the Monkey sent you. That'll put you in solid!
As part of its (hopefully) annual Silent Cinema Showcase, the AFI-Silver is showing the Mary Pickford film Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall this Friday, April 26, at 7:30 p.m.
Dorothy Vernon is a historical costume drama set during the conflict between Queen Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots—a real change of pace for Pickford. This heretofore difficult-to-see film is a 35 mm restoration print assembled from elements found in the Cinematheque Royale de Belgique and the Library of Congress.
Ben Model will provide live musical accompaniment.
I can't wait!
As an added bonus, Christel Schmidt, the author of Mary Pickford: Queen of the Movies, will again speak, sign copies of her book and hang out after the show. I picked up my own copy of her book last Saturday and I can tell you, it's a steal at $36 (it lists for $45)—a five-pound coffee table-sized book filled not only with gorgeous photographs but also essays by Kevin Brownlow, Molly Haskell, Eileen Whitfield, Ms. Schmidt and many others. I have a feeling it's going to prove indispensable as I continue my own exploration of silent film.
I can testify (in court, if necessary) that Ms. Schmidt is smart, cool, redheaded and knows more about Mary Pickford than most people know about themselves. Come on down and meet her for yourself.
Don't live in the Silver Spring area? Pish posh! Two weeks ago, my brother and I drove 2800 miles in four days, covering the last 838 miles, from Madison, Wisconsin, to Baltimore, Maryland, in fourteen hours. And you've got a day and a half. Basically, nobody east of Kansas City has an excuse for missing this event.
Katie-Bar-The-Door and I promise to be there so be sure to say hello. We'll be easy enough to spot—we look just like ourselves!
Even if you don't know her name, chances are you know Anita Loos's work. Not only did she write the novel Gentleman Prefer Blondes and coin the phrase "Diamonds are a girl's best friend," she also shaped the careers of Douglas Fairbanks and Jean Harlow, wrote D.W. Griffith's epic masterpiece Intolerance, and in 1939 adapted The Women for the screen, the snarkiest chick flick ever produced.
Loos was born in 1888 to a pair of San Francisco newspaper publishers. "The family has always used the correct French pronunciation which is lohse. However, I myself pronounce my name as if it were spelled luce, since most people pronounce it that way and it was too much trouble to correct them."
She began acting on the stage with her sisters at the age of nine, but always preferred writing and she not only wrote some of the plays she performed in, but also wrote a New York gossip column despite living in San Diego at the time. Loos broke into the movies in 1912 with the screenplay for The New York Hat, a D.W. Griffith short starring Mary Pickford in her last film for the Biograph Company. That same year she wrote The Musketeers of Pig Alley, which is now credited as the first gangster movie.
Over the next three years, she wrote more than fifty screenplays—including the titles to Griffith's masterpiece Intolerance—but made her biggest splash in 1916 when she wrote a series of screenplays for Douglas Fairbanks who was attempting to make the jump from Broadway to the movies. It was Loos who first saw the real-life Fairbanks as a born swashbuckler—fun, athletic and heroic—and screenplays such as American Aristocracy, The Matrimaniac and Wild and Woolly helped establish Fairbanks in the minds of the movie-going public as one of the silent era's greatest stars.
Through this series of scripts, Loos (along with Mary Pickford's favorite writer, Frances Marion) turned movie intertitles—the dialogue and descriptions that pop up during silent movies—into an art form, transforming them from dull chapter titles into witty bon mots worth reading in their own right. When Fairbanks joined the Famous Players-Lasky film company, he brought Loos with him, paying her a salary of $500 a week.
It was on a trip west with Fairbanks and his entourage that Loos noticed the men on the train falling all over themselves to impress Fairbanks's latest costar, an empty-headed actress who was nevertheless blonde, a situation Loos (herself a brunette) deemed "palpably unfair." The novel inspired by the trip, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, was a sensation, as were her stage and (1928) movie adaptations of it.
After a brief marriage in 1915, she married frequent writing partner John Emerson in 1919 and remained married to him until his death in 1956. Despite its longevity, the marriage was not a happy one. Not only was Emerson a chronic philanderer but even more dismaying to Loos, his dull exterior concealed an even duller mind. "I had set my sights on a man of brains, to whom I could look up, but what a terrible let down it would be to find out that I was smarter than he was."
It was Emerson who convinced Loos to largely abandon Hollywood for New York. There, Loos wrote such plays as The Whole Town's Talking, the aforementioned Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and an adaptation of Colette's novel Gigi.
Despite living in New York, Loos continued to pen screenplays on occasion, including a brilliant adaptation of Clare Boothe Luce's hit Broadway comedy, The Women, in 1939. The most important of her sound era screenplays, however, may well have been 1932's Red-Headed Woman, which starred Jean Harlow.
Largely wasted up to that time in glamorous roles that required little acting skill, Harlow was a star without a screen persona, a situation producer Irving Thalberg was determined to remedy. Buying up Harlow's contract from Howard Hughes, Thalberg cast her in the screen adaptation of Red-Headed Woman, Katharine Brush's racy novel about a woman who sleeps her way into high society. F. Scott Fitzgerald took the first crack at the screenplay, but couldn't solve the puzzle of how to make the audience like a character he himself didn't approve of.
It was instead Loos who drafted the final screenplay.
Although Harlow's Lillian Andrews is a manipulative gold digger—she seduces her married boss and breaks up his marriage—there was a sincerity to Lil's transparent scheming, and with Harlow serving up the brassier bits with humor and wounded pride, audiences found themselves rooting for her. The result was one of the biggest hits of 1932.
Harlow played variations of this character throughout the remainder of her tragically brief career.
In all Loos wrote five screenplays for Harlow including her last, Saratoga. She also wrote such screenplays as San Francisco, Susan and God and I Married an Angel.
Loos never retired and published her last book, a biograph of Norma and Constance Talmadge, in 1978. She died in 1981 at the age of 93.
Named for Katie-Bar-The-Door, the Katies are "alternate Oscars"—who should have been nominated, who should have won—but really they're just an excuse to write a history of the movies from the Silent Era to the present day.
To see a list of nominees and winners by decade, as well as links to my essays about them, click the highlighted links:
Remember: There are no wrong answers, only movies you haven't seen yet.
The Silent Oscars
And don't forget to check out the Silent Oscars—my year-by-year choices for best picture, director and all four acting categories for the pre-Oscar years, 1902-1927.
Look at me—Joe College, with a touch of arthritis. Are my eyes really brown? Uh, no, they're green. Would we have the nerve to dive into the icy water and save a person from drowning? That's a key question. I, of course, can't swim, so I never have to face it. Say, haven't you anything better to do than to keep popping in here early every morning and asking a lot of fool questions?
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