According to the internet, some feeble-minded film industry moguls recently did a film remake of Gone with the Wind, set in Australia, heaven forbid. In this writer’s opinion, that is virtually tantamount to rewriting the Bible as though the Garden of Eden were a small Pacific island and Jesus had delivered the Sermon on the Mount in New York’s Central Park.
As we view such matters, GWTW isn’t the only film upon which the “never again” label should be permanently affixed. Taking it from there, we intend to present below our private selection of ultraclassical movies, wherein certain individual or collective performances can never possibly be equalled, no matter how hard the directors and actors may try.
Unhappily, several of our chosen flicks have already been subject to attempted duplication, in one form or another. The listless results will also be covered below, as appropriate.
Without further ado then, we consider the following movies as being far too sacred to either be or have been redone, along with brief reasons why, presented in alphabetical sequence.
1. Butch Cassady and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Without the joint performances by Newman and Redford and their ultra-snappy dialogue, this production would have been no more than just another western. A prequel appeared a few years afterward, portraying the two legendary outlaws in their more youthful days, but amounted to mighty little.
2. Casablanca (1942)
Imagine this one without Bogie and Bergman! Had anyone else been cast in those leading roles, today we’d be asking “Casa where?” whenever it might be mentioned. Claude Rains did an unmatchable job as well.
3. The Godfather (1972)
The team of Brando, Pacino, Caan, and Duvall proved itself so memorable, that only the world’s biggest dunderheads would even think of a potential remake. Had it not been for that crew, the end result would have been a dry update of Little Caesar.
4. The Old Man and the Sea (1958)
Here is a very simple story, with Spencer Tracy turning out the best all-by-oneself acting we’ve ever witnessed. We didn’t see the 1990 rehash with Anthony Quinn playing the lead, and most assuredly never want to.
5. On Golden Pond (1981)
Despite all his previous successes, Henry Fonda was never better than in the old codgerish role which brought his sole Oscar award. Christopher Plummer’s subsequent rendition for television some years later didn’t even come close.
6. Psycho (1960)
As the disturbed and unbalanced killer, Anthony Perkins was nothing short of brilliant, in perhaps the most frightening top-of-the-line movie ever filmed. Describing that 1998 remake as utterly insipid is being polite and considerate.
7. Finally, we have an unbreakable tie, since the two lead parts dealt with a blind person making use of his and her remaining faculties to the fullest extent. The films we’re honoring are:
Scent of a Woman (1992)
Wait Until Dark (1967)
In our book, Al Pacino and Audrey Hepburn rank with the greatest the industry has produced. Their respective performances in the aforementioned flicks aren’t easy to forget.
We’ll be more than pleased, as always, to hear any reader arguments.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
PERHAPS WE'RE JUST TOO OLD-FASHIONED
Despite these super-duper days when many of us are inspired to utter such statements as “Ain’t technology great?”, this writer retains his constitutional right to abhor one particular aspect. To put it more strongly, one thing we’ve learned to hate immensely since returning to U.S. shores following an extended offshore stay is placing a phone call, only to get some (expletive deleted) machine recording instead of an on-the-spot person.
Altogether too often, none of the button pushing options given out by the golden-voiced chick at yonder end seem to fit our particular needs. Having almost reached the exasperation point of no return by this time, we’ve become sorely tempted in future cases to tell the machine to perform an impossible act on itself and slam the phone down.
Altogether too often, none of the button pushing options given out by the golden-voiced chick at yonder end seem to fit our particular needs. Having almost reached the exasperation point of no return by this time, we’ve become sorely tempted in future cases to tell the machine to perform an impossible act on itself and slam the phone down.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
REVISION TO OUR MOST RECENT BLOG TOPIC
In regard to the piece entitled The Saga of Naïve Morton and Misguided Robert, we must confess to having made a slight error which definitely requires correction, and that is what will be attended to herein.
Our corruptive rephrasing of Artimedorus’ written warning to Julius Caesar includes a line which reads as follows:
Latinos love you not;
Considering the era in which this writer was a growing lad, the major influx of Latinos into this supposedly unblemished country still lay a few decades off, meaning that said ethnic group needed no defamation cast upon it for some time to come. However, upon harking back to the indoctrination process administered in our household during those years, it would be fitting to change the above-cited line to read:
Southerners love you not;
Yes, we were also taught that our neighbors down Dixie way held us Yankees in contempt, allegedly due to sour grapes dating back to the outcome of the 1861-1865 fracas. Anyway, that was the party line.
Having recently taken up residence below the Mason-Dixon line, we realize beyond any doubt that such categorization was just as big a crock as the rest of the slurs quoted in our Shakespearean alteration.
Our corruptive rephrasing of Artimedorus’ written warning to Julius Caesar includes a line which reads as follows:
Latinos love you not;
Considering the era in which this writer was a growing lad, the major influx of Latinos into this supposedly unblemished country still lay a few decades off, meaning that said ethnic group needed no defamation cast upon it for some time to come. However, upon harking back to the indoctrination process administered in our household during those years, it would be fitting to change the above-cited line to read:
Southerners love you not;
Yes, we were also taught that our neighbors down Dixie way held us Yankees in contempt, allegedly due to sour grapes dating back to the outcome of the 1861-1865 fracas. Anyway, that was the party line.
Having recently taken up residence below the Mason-Dixon line, we realize beyond any doubt that such categorization was just as big a crock as the rest of the slurs quoted in our Shakespearean alteration.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
THE SAGA OF NAIVE MORTON AND MISGUIDED ROBERT
We begin this piece with a true episode in the life of Morton, a personal acquaintance from long ago, whose last name will be withheld, except to mention its being Hebrew by nature.
Mort was a Jewish lad who grew up in a semi-remote Nebraska location, where his faith had a very sparse membership at the time, which may not have changed since. He once explained how his family needed to travel a great many miles to and from the nearest temple for religious ceremony attendance.
Upon graduation from the University of Nebraska law school in the early 1950s, Mort underwent various interviews with prospective employers. Having expressed a desire to work in an eastward city, he accepted a position offered by the Cleveland, Ohio office of a major professional services firm.
After taking up his new job, Mort, already married and with an expectant wife, was anxious to settle down in a permanent home. He promptly contacted a real estate agent on Cleveland’s multi-national east side, and soon found a house which he and his missus liked very much. Accordingly, he filed a formal offer and plunked down the requisite deposit.
Having heard nothing from the agent for several days, Mort phoned him to check on the status of his intended deal.
The answer came in a somewhat stumbling tone, well punctuated by umms, ahs, and ers where needed.
“You ….. er ….. won’t be able to buy that house, Morton.”
“Oh!” Our hero quickly chimed back, “Don’t worry. I’m ready to come up a little.”
“Well ….. umm ….. ahh ….. that is, the owner refuses to sell to you.”
“Why?” inquired the young Jewish boy recently out of Nebraska.
“It’s ….. er ….. because of your religion.”
Poor Mort’s immediate reaction was to ask “What does that have to do with it?”
In pretty short order then, Morton learned that Cleveland, Ohio was not Nebraska, insofar as intolerance went.
Nevertheless, this part of our tale has a happy ending, since Mort did eventually acquire a nice house for his budding family.
We’ve long dwelled on that baptism of fire experienced by Brother Morton. One unfortunate aspect is that it recalls the general spirit of this writer’s own Cleveland, Ohio upbringing, in the most bigoted of household surroundings. The best means we can find for summing up such situation is to relate it to Shakespeare’s classic drama Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene III.
Being fully cognizant of the plot to assassinate Caesar on that fateful morning, the minor character Artimedorus had prepared a written message to hand to the imminent victim as he passed by, which amounted to a dire warning about the conspiratorial band.
We’ve thus chosen below to alter the Bard’s words slightly, in conformity with the lessons given regularly and frequently to this growing lad.
Robert, beware of Jews,
Take heed of Catholics,
Come not near Negroes,
Have an eye to American Indians,
Trust not Italians,
Mark well Eastern Europeans;
Latinos love you not;
Thou hast wronged Orientals.
Although a fearless Caesar arbitrarily brushed Artimedorus aside, it took this fellow a few years to outgrow the hatreds ingrained in him as a boy. For that and other reasons, it’s been nice to have escaped from Cleveland.
We can’t resist adding that, despite such atrocious childhood indoctrination, this writer’s closest friends during his (ugh! ptui!) U.S. Army days were Tom Donegan, Milton Feldman, and Phil Daniele.
Mort was a Jewish lad who grew up in a semi-remote Nebraska location, where his faith had a very sparse membership at the time, which may not have changed since. He once explained how his family needed to travel a great many miles to and from the nearest temple for religious ceremony attendance.
Upon graduation from the University of Nebraska law school in the early 1950s, Mort underwent various interviews with prospective employers. Having expressed a desire to work in an eastward city, he accepted a position offered by the Cleveland, Ohio office of a major professional services firm.
After taking up his new job, Mort, already married and with an expectant wife, was anxious to settle down in a permanent home. He promptly contacted a real estate agent on Cleveland’s multi-national east side, and soon found a house which he and his missus liked very much. Accordingly, he filed a formal offer and plunked down the requisite deposit.
Having heard nothing from the agent for several days, Mort phoned him to check on the status of his intended deal.
The answer came in a somewhat stumbling tone, well punctuated by umms, ahs, and ers where needed.
“You ….. er ….. won’t be able to buy that house, Morton.”
“Oh!” Our hero quickly chimed back, “Don’t worry. I’m ready to come up a little.”
“Well ….. umm ….. ahh ….. that is, the owner refuses to sell to you.”
“Why?” inquired the young Jewish boy recently out of Nebraska.
“It’s ….. er ….. because of your religion.”
Poor Mort’s immediate reaction was to ask “What does that have to do with it?”
In pretty short order then, Morton learned that Cleveland, Ohio was not Nebraska, insofar as intolerance went.
Nevertheless, this part of our tale has a happy ending, since Mort did eventually acquire a nice house for his budding family.
We’ve long dwelled on that baptism of fire experienced by Brother Morton. One unfortunate aspect is that it recalls the general spirit of this writer’s own Cleveland, Ohio upbringing, in the most bigoted of household surroundings. The best means we can find for summing up such situation is to relate it to Shakespeare’s classic drama Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene III.
Being fully cognizant of the plot to assassinate Caesar on that fateful morning, the minor character Artimedorus had prepared a written message to hand to the imminent victim as he passed by, which amounted to a dire warning about the conspiratorial band.
We’ve thus chosen below to alter the Bard’s words slightly, in conformity with the lessons given regularly and frequently to this growing lad.
Robert, beware of Jews,
Take heed of Catholics,
Come not near Negroes,
Have an eye to American Indians,
Trust not Italians,
Mark well Eastern Europeans;
Latinos love you not;
Thou hast wronged Orientals.
Although a fearless Caesar arbitrarily brushed Artimedorus aside, it took this fellow a few years to outgrow the hatreds ingrained in him as a boy. For that and other reasons, it’s been nice to have escaped from Cleveland.
We can’t resist adding that, despite such atrocious childhood indoctrination, this writer’s closest friends during his (ugh! ptui!) U.S. Army days were Tom Donegan, Milton Feldman, and Phil Daniele.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
A SHARP REBUTTAL FROM AN OFFENDED M.D.
The most recent contribution to our Let It All Hang Out blog gave the medical profession a hefty punch in the solar plexus, by openly criticizing its proclivity for prescribing drugs as a prime cure-all, as opposed to insistence on patients’ sensible eating practices. However, since our reading audience includes no doctors, we deem it only fair to offer a reply from a mythical physician, based on the reaction that would likely result.
Accordingly, here is what we might expect in retaliation from an irate medical practitioner:
“Do you believe for an instant that we doctors are unaware of the benefits forthcoming
from a carefully controlled diet? Most of us have forgotten more than you presently
know about this matter. Nevertheless, how much could we ever accomplish by focusing
principally on choice of foods as the best approach for a patient? Can you honestly
expect the great majority of them to listen? Forget it. The unfortunate fact is that we’re
practically forced into writing hefty prescriptions, just to offset the damage so many
people have brought on themselves by eating improperly, and otherwise not taking good
care of their bodies.
“We continually tell people to quit smoking, but how many ever really do? Way too many
of them will go on puffing and wheezing until Joe Camel knocks them cold some day
not too far down the line. Furthermore, how are we expected to treat those who
obediently nod their heads in response to our semi-stern advice about reducing their
calorie, sugar, cholesterol, and other harmful intakes, then leave our offices and head
straight to the nearest McDonald’s for a burger and fries lunch?
“Quit blaming us for trying to do our best to salvage what we can out of an ailing,
mistreated human anatomy. Give us due credit for a noble effort.”
Thank you, Doctor. We stand duly admonished.
Accordingly, here is what we might expect in retaliation from an irate medical practitioner:
“Do you believe for an instant that we doctors are unaware of the benefits forthcoming
from a carefully controlled diet? Most of us have forgotten more than you presently
know about this matter. Nevertheless, how much could we ever accomplish by focusing
principally on choice of foods as the best approach for a patient? Can you honestly
expect the great majority of them to listen? Forget it. The unfortunate fact is that we’re
practically forced into writing hefty prescriptions, just to offset the damage so many
people have brought on themselves by eating improperly, and otherwise not taking good
care of their bodies.
“We continually tell people to quit smoking, but how many ever really do? Way too many
of them will go on puffing and wheezing until Joe Camel knocks them cold some day
not too far down the line. Furthermore, how are we expected to treat those who
obediently nod their heads in response to our semi-stern advice about reducing their
calorie, sugar, cholesterol, and other harmful intakes, then leave our offices and head
straight to the nearest McDonald’s for a burger and fries lunch?
“Quit blaming us for trying to do our best to salvage what we can out of an ailing,
mistreated human anatomy. Give us due credit for a noble effort.”
Thank you, Doctor. We stand duly admonished.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
WORDS OF WISDOM GLEANED FROM BROWSING THE INTERNET
Upon selecting a title for this particular piece, we were promptly reminded of Wordsworth’s classic Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, written in 1798. However, we must assure the reader that what we’re about to expound upon falls far short, from the lyrical beauty standpoint, in comparison to the master’s chosen metric verse. As a matter of fact, the central theme which concerns us here is a rather unsavory one, namely bowel cleansing, hence improved health, through proper and careful dietary habits. Ugh!
We also admit to thoughts having arisen concerning musical virtuoso Arthur Sullivan, whose well-known The Lost Chord describes how he had allegedly created a singular perfect sound one afternoon, while browsing at an organ. We raise this point because we recently experienced a vaguely similar feeling, again nowhere near the blissful sensation described in the famous song, but rather by coming across a rare touch of sheer wisdom, thanks to certain internet content.
What the foregoing paragraphs add up to is that, while happening to read about the somewhat uninspiring subject cited above, we noted how the article included a little-known quotation by Thomas Edison back in his day. Although not a qualified physician, this gentleman nevertheless did utter a medical-related statement which we feel makes a tremendous amount of sense. Unfortunately, what the esteemed genius of the scientific world had to say on the matter has never sunk in, despite his sage prediction.
Very simply, Edison’s prognosticative utterance was:
“The doctor of the future will give no medicine, but will interest his patient in the care of
the (human) frame, in diet and in the cause and prevention of disease.”
How about that, Folks? As far as we’re concerned, the man was right as rain in principle, yet a full 180 degrees off base from the accuracy angle.
To summarize our case as succinctly as possible, we merely ask the question “How many doctors have you ever consulted, receiving prime advice about careful dieting? Sure, the boys and girls of the medical world might bring the matter up, but almost always as a secondary issue. Once they’ve diagnosed your ailment, the first method of attack lies in loading you up with drugs by the veritable carload, while ignoring not only the superior benefits accruable from better eating, but the potentially harmful side effects which those pharmaceutical concoctions are apt to bring about.
Obviously, the Pfizers, Squibbs, Bayers, and Mercks of this world love those solid medical practitioners, who are so inclined and adept at helping peddle their questionable value wares.
From our personal end, though, we fail to hold anywhere near the same respect.
We also admit to thoughts having arisen concerning musical virtuoso Arthur Sullivan, whose well-known The Lost Chord describes how he had allegedly created a singular perfect sound one afternoon, while browsing at an organ. We raise this point because we recently experienced a vaguely similar feeling, again nowhere near the blissful sensation described in the famous song, but rather by coming across a rare touch of sheer wisdom, thanks to certain internet content.
What the foregoing paragraphs add up to is that, while happening to read about the somewhat uninspiring subject cited above, we noted how the article included a little-known quotation by Thomas Edison back in his day. Although not a qualified physician, this gentleman nevertheless did utter a medical-related statement which we feel makes a tremendous amount of sense. Unfortunately, what the esteemed genius of the scientific world had to say on the matter has never sunk in, despite his sage prediction.
Very simply, Edison’s prognosticative utterance was:
“The doctor of the future will give no medicine, but will interest his patient in the care of
the (human) frame, in diet and in the cause and prevention of disease.”
How about that, Folks? As far as we’re concerned, the man was right as rain in principle, yet a full 180 degrees off base from the accuracy angle.
To summarize our case as succinctly as possible, we merely ask the question “How many doctors have you ever consulted, receiving prime advice about careful dieting? Sure, the boys and girls of the medical world might bring the matter up, but almost always as a secondary issue. Once they’ve diagnosed your ailment, the first method of attack lies in loading you up with drugs by the veritable carload, while ignoring not only the superior benefits accruable from better eating, but the potentially harmful side effects which those pharmaceutical concoctions are apt to bring about.
Obviously, the Pfizers, Squibbs, Bayers, and Mercks of this world love those solid medical practitioners, who are so inclined and adept at helping peddle their questionable value wares.
From our personal end, though, we fail to hold anywhere near the same respect.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
WHO'S ON FIRST?
We find ourselves a bit perplexed these days as to which professional group is the bigger gouger when it comes to billing for services. We’re unable to determine whether lawyers or doctors stand in first place. It seems to be a mighty close race.
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