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Showing posts from April, 2009

Celebrity Sandcastles

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You can see a picture of one of Stephen Gyllenhaal's sandcastles in the movie Jake did, The Day After Tomorrow . They were quite popular on the beach at Martha’s Vineyard. I used to not be able to figure what attracted Naomi to him, but after finding out his boyish talent, I understood. There was a moment back in 1973—a moment I’m probably going to be elaborating on in my next novel —when Stephen, Naomi and I, though coming from vastly different backgrounds, worked within such close proximity to each other (at 1 Lincoln Plaza, me at ASCAP, Naomi on the staff and Stephen freelancing at CTW) that a chance meeting in an elevator could have made all the difference in the course of our lives. SUBSCRIBE TO MY OCCASIONAL NEWSLETTER. CLICK HERE. _____

Not About the Filipino Emo Band, Losing Isaiah

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Trust me, there’s an emo band in Manila called Losing Isaiah. (When I told Seth Margolis , the author of the novel Losing Isaiah about this, he was surprised, but pleased.) However, the still on the right is from the movie the legacy of which  Steve  will never escape.

Rouben Mamoulian’s Love Me Tonight

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Behold a charming scene from the 1932 pre-Code classic, directed my old boss Rouben Mamoulian and one of the best musicals ever. With Jeanette MacDonald, Maurice Chevalier, Myrna Loy, C. Aubrey Smith, Charles Ruggles, even Gabby Hayes(!) when he was still just plain ol’ George. Highlights: the incredible opening scene where Paris awakens, MacDonald in a nightgown so deliciously transparent it belongs in a stag movie , and the “traveling” melodies “Isn’t It Romantic?” and “Mimi”, both courtesy of Rodgers & Hart. In the time after this film was made, Rodgers would come to detest Hart, MacDonald would come to loathe Chevalier, and I wasn’t too crazy about Mamoulian after working eight months deciphering his rambling tales of Hollywood yore. But—art lives on long after old grudges die, and this film is proof of that. SUBSCRIBE TO MY OCCASIONAL NEWSLETTER. CLICK HERE. _____

A Kiss for Susan Boyle

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I’ve been wondering the past few days why some people visiting my blog have entered into Google search the phrase “susan boyle john barrowman”. The Susan Boyle part I can understand—I’ve done a couple of long postings about the Songstress of Blackburn , and in one of those postings I mention John Barrowman, because he gives the best performance on YouTube of Susan’s reported second song. But why would querents couple her name with the name of that devastatingly delicious omnisexual actor-singer in the first place? And then I remembered. You have to be a Doctor Who/Torchwood fan to get the reference. It’s because of Captain Jack’s Transformative Kiss ! Or, it could also be that fans are yearning for a showstopping melodic duet by the two of them. This could happen. Here’s John in a splashy Rodgers & Hart number, “ Have You Met Miss Jones ”, accompanied by the girls of The Sound of Music boot camp . He’s certainly Susan’s match. Check out John at snogging training at the s...

“A Scarborough Connection”

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Several years ago I belonged to a society whose sole purpose was to raise funds for the erection of a new headstone over the grave of Anne Brontë. After a half-decade of internecine squabbles and costly errors of judgment the money was collected at last, and as I was at the time a rather well-known lecturer on the Brontës for youthful audiences, it was I who was sent to Scarborough to make the arrangements. I was not eager to go. As a girl I had been taken on summer holiday to Scarborough and disliked its musty, clammy atmosphere at once; even then I longed for warmer beaches. The society convened regularly in Keighley, several miles from the Brontë parsonage at Haworth. I must warn you about Haworth. It's a madhouse for tourists. Business at the pub where poor Branwell drank himself to death continues to thrive; a brass plaque on its door proudly memorialises his custom. In fair weather or foul, souvenir kiosks, named for the secret kingdoms from the Brontës' childhood, cl...

Susan Boyle’s Next Song

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Reports are that it’s going to be “Whistle Down the Wind” from the 1996 musical of the same name, which was based on the 1961 film, which was based on the novel by Mary Hayley Bell. The film was a showcase for Bell’s daughter, Hayley Mills (her father is Sir John Mills, the Pip of David Lean’s Great Expectations ) and the debut appearance of Alan Bates. Catch this film if you ever get a chance, it’s a strange and beautiful allegory about Christian faith. There are some very tarty, stupid versions of this song available at YouTube that it’s best to stay away from. I found the best rendition sung by none other than John Barrowman—yes, our Captain Jack from the Doctor Who spinoff, Torchwood . (And hey, you Toothy Tile freaks, quit trying to turn Jake Gyllenhaal gay and start appreciating a truly gorgeous and versatile actor who is openly homosexual, would you?)  Yes, I’m a fangirl again and proud of it. I haven’t fallen so deeply in love with a singer since Sigrid Wursc...

In Summer We Are All Jedi

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Item found at the BBC site today: “About 390,000 people listed their religion as Jedi in the 2001 Census for England and Wales. In Scotland the figure was a reported 14,000. “ Eight police officers serving with Scotland’s largest force listed their official religion as Jedi in voluntary diversity forms. “Strathclyde Police said the officers and two of its civilian staff claimed to follow the faith, which features in the Star Wars movies.”

Lost Horizon

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Remember Lost Horizon ? Not the wonderful 1937 film with Ronald Colman, but the 1973 star-studded musical disaster? It opened just after I turned 18—a college sophomore still living at home in Minneapolis but about to blow town—and I saw it twice, once with a date, the second time with a couple of kids I was babysitting for getaway money, the cutest 4-year-old in the world named Christopher Witherspoon (who looked just like the boy in my beloved Stephen’s own personal disaster, Losing Isaiah ), and his comely 7- year-old sister, Natasha. Well, thanks to fellow blogger Marc Harshbarger, author of the gossipy gay soap opera novel Deep Dish , I found NYC nightclub performer Daryl Glenn’s nice rendition of the title number. It’s actually quite a fetching tune. Susan Boyle singing it would leave you in a puddle of tears. And hearing it again has opened up a floodgate of memories. SUBSCRIBE TO MY OCCASIONAL NEWSLETTER. CLICK HERE. _____