(Move over Hopper & Parsons there’s a new witch around)
I was expecting the worst when I watched the Dylan Hour. The worst, though, never came.
Instead, I got a different look at the TikTok social media star that’s completely changed my mind.
I’m well-acquainted with the genre since I grew up watching Arthur Godfrey, Steve Allen, Jack Paar, Johnny Carson & Merv Griffin. The lone talk show hostess arrived in the form of Virginia Graham, and I was a big fan of Girl Talk.
That type of format isn’t easy…
But Dylan more than rose to the occasion, looking relaxed, flawless and glamourous during the entire podcast, while gracefully modeling to-die-for clothing, and showing off her perfect hair and makeup. (For the ladies in the audience, I’ll swear she’s a junior!)
It’s clearly projecting female. C’est fastoche! (as they say in France)
Most consider the starting point for Mulvaney’s rise to fame to be the TikTok videos chronicling her year-long transition to womanhood. Next came that infamous interview at the White House with President Joe Biden, where Miss Mulvaney extolled the virtues of transitioning children. Whether Joe Biden was completely aware of what was happening is anyone’s guess.
One can only hope Dylan’s come to her good senses about the advisability of children bypassing Tanner Stage 2 of adolescence.
Next came Dylan’s Budweiser Light debacle, where she became poster child for the “Go Woke, Go Broke” mantra. A lot of bad publicity followed, and more recently, Dylan’s new book, “Paper Doll,” was released to mixed reviews.
All in a day’s work for the indomitable Miss Mulvaney, who’s at the top of her craft at being the absolute center of attention, something a lot of Hollywood starlets would murder to find the secret for!
On one podcast, Dylan featured a handsome, young 21-year-old British actor, Joe Locke. The two were sharing cocktails and whipped cream. At one point, Dylan grabbed the Redi Whip container and squirted it directly into her mouth.
We all get that one, Dylan! Especially Joe Locke…
I watched another episode with Dylan’s father, who’d popped up from San Diego, where presumably young Dylan was raised as a little boy. I can see the family resemblance, since Dylan’s inherited Pop Mulvaney’s spunky entrepreneurial personality, though it’s hard to imagine Dylan ever being a little boy.
That’s how convincing she’s become…
I see all kinds of possibilities for this podcast, and sincerely hope it continues. It’s clear Dylan Mulvaney is here to stay, and will be around Hollywood for a long, long time.
(Move over Hopper & Parsons there’s a new witch around)
Have you ever had a tune playing repeatedly in your head? That happened to me this week when I remembered a spiritual my 7th grade music teacher, Mr. Welling (aka Baby Face Welling), played one day. He got that nickname, Baby Face, since he had pronounced dimples and talked kind of funny, if you catch my drift…
At least that’s how kids in school at the time perceived it, especially the “hoods.” A “hood” was a young male of questionable repute, who smoked cigarettes and always wore a leather jacket, even when it was hot outside. Never could figure that out…
“Keep in the Middle of the Road” was on Mr. Welling’s menu that day, along with a few others I’ve long since forgotten. The one song stayed with me since it wisely advised, “Children, keep in the middle of the road, children keep in the middle of the road. Don’t you look to the right, don’t you look to the left, just keep in the middle of the road.”
Clearly someone was trying to teach the class that moderation is preferrable to the extremes one often finds in life. It was a very practical, Midwestern lesson, especially applicable to 1966 when the U.S. was transitioning from beatnik to hippie mode.
I decided to search out “Keep in the Middle of the Road” on YouTube, and of course, found a plethora of versions to choose from. I’ve included a link to one below.
And while I was there, I naturally had to catch up with the latest haps in social media land!
Skye Vitiritti’s channel had an excellent review of Dylan Mulvaney’s new book, “Paper Doll,” which graciously allowed people to avoid purchasing it and subsequently vomiting over its content. Thank you, Skye, for preventing a plethora of Dylan-induced illness.
I was expecting the worst from this book and certainly wasn’t disappointed after hearing the sordid news. Dylan, aka Miss Thing, has named her wiener. It’s called “Missy.” Skye could barely keep a straight face, nor could I. And I’ll just bet no one else in the audience could, either.
Let me simply state this is something a woman would simply never do!
Men often do it, even some gays, though I could never be bothered to participate in that dubious practice.
Really! As if it possessed a mind all its own. How very adolescent!
Speaking of which, I’m sure young girls have a tough enough time with female adolescence, but I wouldn’t wish the male version on my worst enemy! I believe Act 1, Scene 5 from Shakespeare’s Hamlet sums the whole experience up perfectly, “O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!”
And then, there’s a lot of hoopla on YouTube about someone with a big following on Tik Tok, Lily Tino. She recently had facial feminization surgery and was revealing the results. People are speculating as to whether she (and I use the term very loosely) really had plastic surgery at all. Take it from a person who’s had plenty, she has, though I’m not convinced darling Lily got the best bang for her buck.
Frankly, I’ve never been able to get past the baritone voice. Forget about facial feminization, bitch, get some laser surgery on your vocal cords, why don’t ’cha? If that’s not possible, get some training from a good vocal coach. I know you live somewhere in the Bay Area, so Hollywood’s close by. Plenty of vocal resources down there, so look someone up…and hurry, please, time’s a wastin’!
I also watched another clip from Gavin Newsom’s new podcast where he interviewed Tim Walz. I’ll admit being flabbergasted when Newsom disagreed with Walz about Steve Bannon, who’d been a previous podcast guest. Newsom spoke out in Bannon’s defense! Quite shocking yet refreshing. Maybe there’s a glimmer of hope for our illustrious governor.
Opening a dialogue with the opposition is a first step and I hope it continues. With all the Getty money surrounding him, Newsom might well become Independent and perhaps Guv and the Dems will wind up in a divorce court.
Divorce court don’t ’cha know, something near and dear to my heart since my parents trotted down that road when I was only 13. It was just one year after my 7th grade music class with Baby Face Welling.
Subject for another Keith’s Theatre…the divorce years…
I’ve been spending too much time lately on YouTube and deserve a vacation. Something different, less controversial. Hmmm…what shall I write about?
I scoured my magazine archives for a topic. Religion, perhaps?
A Liberty magazine feature written by Jim Tully, from January 12, 1929, “Aimee Semple McPherson – What’s She All About?”, was just screaming at me! I think the author caught my attention with these words:
“One of the very greatest actresses now alive in the world has an audience under her spell. Her whole-heartedness, coupled with her tremendous verve and dominating will, explains this woman’s phenomenal success. Only one other career in the world would have allowed her complete expression – the stage.” Tully also wrote, “Shop girls claim her gowns are finer and more expensive than those sold to movie stars.”
Well, that did it since everyone knows I’m a sucker for an aspiring actress story! Especially true when they have beautiful gowns, a scandal and a tragic ending!
Sister Aimee Semple McPherson
January 12, 1929 version of “Liberty” magazine
Such shenanigans, though, are nothing new in the world of evangelism and far be it from me to throw stones. The Old Testament has admonished us not to engage in what is called the evil tongue. In biblical Hebrew the term is לשון הרע (“lashon hara.”)
Upon second thought, perhaps I shall cast a few stones at Aimee Semple McPherson! I’m only human, don’t cha know?
Let’s dive right into the scandal as related by the 1929 Liberty feature where “Sister Aimee,” as she was known to her followers, became embroiled in an alleged kidnapping scheme on May 18, 1926. According to the evangelist, on the day in question, she had just finished swimming at the beach when she was approached by a weeping woman with a nervous male companion. The two informed her their baby was dying and wanted her to pray over it.
Sister Aimee wanted to dress first, but the woman persuaded her otherwise, then threw an overcoat over her dripping shoulders and ran ahead to her car. By the time Sister Aimee arrived, the woman was holding a bundle tenderly in her arms, seated next to a third man. When the evangelist leaned over to pray for the baby, she was suddenly pushed into the vehicle and last recalled something sweet-smelling being held over her mouth.
McPherson healing a deaf-muteRadio broadcast atop LA temple
When McPherson awoke, she was in an unknown location and discovered that she was being held for half a million in ransom, Tully wrote and went on to say:
“During this period of her captivity, her captors went to a blind lawyer in Long Beach, California. They told him the terms of the ransom. The lawyer went in turn to the district attorney and Federal officers, and recounted what the kidnapers had told him. The authorities believed the story to be preposterous.” The writer added that “A day or so later, the blind attorney was beaten severely in his own office by the same men!”
No sources were provided for the above statements, nor were any given for the following. I guess we must accept it on faith:
“Ransom notes were received at the temple. Federal post-office investigators became interested. Later it was discovered that the stamps on one of the letters had been mysteriously changed.”
“At the moment when the Federal men were to seize the typewriter they felt had been used in typing the notes – the machine disappeared!”
“In a mysterious midnight journey, the captors, according to Aimee, took her to a shack – somewhere on the Mexican desert, twenty miles in some direction from Agua Prieta. She spent two days in the shack, and was then left conveniently alone.”
Keep in mind, Sister Aimee was, having been drugged, unconscious during this period. How could she possibly have known exactly where she was? We’re never told. The writer continued:
“With the edge of a tin can she sawed in twain the cords which bound her wrists together. Her hands freed, she quickly unbound her ankles.”
“She walked through the intense heat of the desert day and late into the night. At Agua Prieta she found the police. They took her to Douglas, Arizona.”
Yes, funny the subject of Douglas, Arizona, should come up! That’s where the evangelist’s church received a phone call from, on June 23, 1926, exactly five weeks and one day after her disappearance from the beach.
Aimee Semple McPherson
It seems a little time was lost, wouldn’t you say? Sister Aimee is recalling only a few days of her life, yet over five weeks have passed since she was supposedly abducted!
Having miraculously recovered from her debacle, Sister Aimee announced that it was all the result of a rival church’s underworld plot to unseat her from her evangelist throne. A grand jury investigated but ultimately decided there wasn’t enough evidence to indict the suspected kidnappers.
The article concluded, “The legal battle was waged off and on in the courts for half a year. At last the case against the evangelist collapsed on January 10, 1927. Now, nearly two years later, conflicting opinions still flourish. No trace of the kidnapers has ever been found.”
No, indeed, because there probably never were any. Furthermore, there was a rumor that she’d been cavortingin a lascivious way with one of her co-workers, in Carmel, California.
I almost forgot to include the terrible fate that awaited Aimee Semple McPherson on September 27, 1944. The evangelist suffered a heart attack In Oakland, California, where she’d gone to preach at local revivals.
Sister Aimee’s autopsy report showed that it was precipitated by an overdose of secobarbital, ruled to be accidental, not intentional.
The distinction is thin, though, when people find they’ve reached that moment in time.
(Move over Hopper, Parsons & St. Johns, there’s a new witch around)
So, I picked three winners from last Sunday’s Oscars: Adrien Brody (Best Actor), Zoe Saldaña (Best Supporting Actress), and Kieran Culkin (Best Supporting Actor). I was wrong about Best Actress since Mikey Madison won for Anora, not Fernanda Torres for I’m Still Here, and another prediction missed the mark since the former, not the latter film, garnered the Best Picture prize.
Can’t win ‘em all which is nothing new since I’ve disagreed for decades with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences. Shall I go on? Why, thank you…
The 1941 Academy Awards ceremony quickly comes to mind, with Ginger Rogers’ Best Actress win. I’m not sure what the Academy saw in Ginger, as there were plenty of other actresses to pick from that year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big Rogers aficionado (especially love her dancing) but excusez-moi, Best Actress for Kitty Foyle?
And let’s not forget the 1961 Academy Awards when Elizabeth Taylor won her “sympathy” Oscar, after languishing near death in a hospital prior to the awards ceremony. I’m a big Taylor fan, but Best Actress for BUtterfield 8 – spare me, please!
Life magazine photo from 1948 by Philippe Halsman- Liz at age 16Oct. 14, 1958, 10 years later- Liz at age 26
Fast forward to the “Best-We-Forget the Actor” Oscar of 1969, when Cliff Robertson won for his leading role in Charly. Peter O’Toole’s stellar performance in The Lion in Winter was quite impossible to ignore, yet somehow the Academy managed to vote for the opposition.
And speaking of casting votes…I sure hope Californians get more savvy about who and what they’re voting for. If you catch my drift…
And I see the subject of politics mysteriously came up so let’s jump over to YouTube! The California governor has apparently stirred up controversy interviewing conservative Charlie Kirk. On Guv’s new podcast, he suddenly announced to Kirk he’d come to the realization that transgender women competing against biological women in sports is inherently unfair.
Just now realizing that, are we? Pardon me while I bang my head on the floor…
Naturally, there were many from the LGBT (just keep adding letters, not sure what they mean anymore) community protesting outside. These activists were holding the proverbial signs denouncing fascism, like “Nazi Go Home,” “The Only Good Fascist is a Dead Fascist,” and of course the obligatory “Death to Fascism!” sign.
Frankly this tiring old script is a bit much for me to bear! I feel one of my headaches coming on…
At the end of the day, I’m still trying to figure out what the subject of transgender women competing in female sports has to do with homosexuality or bisexuality. Would someone please enlighten me?
And suppose, just suppose Guv really does have presidential aspirations? This Hoosier boy has some advice – you’ll never sell in the Midwest!
(Move over Hopper, Parsons & St. Johns, there’s a new witch around)
I noticed it’s (yawn) Oscar Night in Hollywood. Except for footage from Emilia Pérez, which I eviscerated several weeks ago, I’ve only found the time to peruse the trailers.
Speaking of Emilia Pérez, I understand that several old posts from Karla Sofía Gascón have suddenly surfaced. That things could get so political and catty! Perish the thought. Such behind-the-scenes scuffles by those clamoring for fame just makes my stomach churn…
Such posts could thwart Miss Gascón’s chances for whisking the coveted Oscar off into the netherworld. What surprises me most is that la señorita Gascón posted anything controversial in the first place, surely knowing the posts could reappear at the most inopportune moment.
Which has apparently happened…
I’ve noticed of late that a plethora of influencers are feigning “outrage” that a biological male should ever be permitted to compete for best actress.
Seems to me we’re dealing with the art of illusion. If someone’s truly convincing, perhaps they should be allowed to carry it to the extreme…
Besides, la señorita Gascón now identifies as female, and that should count for something, shouldn’t it? Yes, she’s either “transexual” or “transgender/trans” (depending on which circles you travel in). You see, words are being parsed these days in trans-world, as well as among gay men and Lesbians, where many resist using the term “queer.” I perfectly understand since the notion of being “trans” or “queer” seems almost religious or cult-like these days.
Don’t cha think?
Enough of my opinions, let’s move on to who’ll win in the major categories! Who, oh, who will cart home those delectable little Oscars?
Anyone nominated should consider it an honor (obligatory lip service). Having said that, let me add that it’s certainly no picnic when you’re stuck with a lousy script and director (ad-lib).
I predict the Best Supporting Actor award will go to Kieran Culkin for his performance in A Real Pain. Best Supporting Actress will be Zoe Saldaña for Emilia Pérez. Karla Sofía Gascón won’t win for her role, and the ever-political Academy will have to toss something Emilia Pérez’s way.
Best Actor & Best Actress categories are decidedly more of a challenge. The former award will likely go to Adrien Brody, for his role in The Brutalist, and I believe the latter award will go for Fernanda Torres’ performance in I’m Still Here.
Finally, we come to Best Picture category. A wild guess…I’m Still Here. Guess we’ll find out later today! As they say in the craft, break a leg.
What French couturier came to Hollywood to design for the motion picture industry, at the request of director Cecil B. DeMille?
It was none other than Erté, whose real name was Romain de Tirtoff. This prolific couturier, raised in the Russian aristocracy, emigrated to Paris and worked closely with French designer Paul Poiret. The talented Erté later signed a contract with Harper’s Bazar, and provided a plethora of covers for the popular Hearst magazine.
Erté was summoned to Hollywood by director DeMille for a prospective film, but when publisher William Randolph Hearst heard of the meeting, he grew uneasy. Hearst then arranged for Erté to design for Cosmopolitan Pictures, which was dedicated to producing the films of Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies. Erté obliged and went on to design both sets and costumes for the 1920 film, The Restless Sex, starring Miss Davies.
Hearst hadn’t forgotten his wife, Millicent, though. Mrs. Hearst, in addition to Hearst’s mistress, also loved beautiful clothes, so Erté created several designs in her honor. The entire affair was well publicized to reassure the public of Mr. Hearst’s respectability.
Erté in his youth
Hearst later recommended Erté’s talents to his close friend, Louis B. Mayer, of MGM Studios. Mayer had Erté in mind for a 1925 production, to be entitled simply, Paris. Erté was promised creative control over much of the production, but when the final shooting script arrived, he was incensed since it portrayed Parisian life in what Erté considered a completely objectionable manner.
To make matters worse, one of the top stars at the time, Lillian Gish, got into an “artistic disagreement” with Erté over her proposed costumes for La Bohème. According to Erté biographer Charles Spencer, Gish felt that Erté’s calico creations would look “too new” on the silver screen and insisted he use worn silk. When Erté vehemently refused, Gish sought assistance from MGM’s wardrobe mistress, who dutifully complied.
Hopelessly European and well into his 30s at the time, Erté grew disillusioned with Hollywood and in late 1925, returned to Paris, but not before designing costumes for several MGM films, notably the silent version of Ben Hur.
The sketch for Miss Myers’ costume- later brought to life as “Iris” bronzeErté with actress Carmel MyersNumber ‘2’ that was later realized as the bronze sculpture “La Plume”Letter ‘L’ that was later brought to life in bronze as “La Femme à la Panthère”
Fast forward decades later, and Erté’s career in the U.S. was resurrected during an Art Deco renaissance. His friendship with art dealers Eric and Salome Estorick paved the way for his designs to become successful in the commercial art world.
I was a part of this Art Deco renaissance and from 1985 – 2000, worked for Dyansen Galleries, the American company responsible for publishing several Erté sculpture collections. I’ve attended countless Erté exhibitions and handled a large volume of Erté’s works, including original gouaches, graphics, and innumerable bronzes, which my employer published.
Having been constantly surrounded by Erté’s art, it never mattered that I never got the chance to meet the man. Through his countless designs produced over the years, I felt I already had.
I knew Erté through his genius, which was considerable.
Coming soon…all the gossip about the art world!
Erté’s “Reflections”Erté’s “Fish Bowl”“Bubbles”“The Portrait” (surely a nod to Mae Murray)“Manhattan Mary”
Wanna know my take on the latest world happenings? Grab a seat & stick around…
Ouch, the present moment is too much to bear! Guess I’m sick of looking at reality. Wanna bury my head in the sand & no wonder so many from the hippie generation opted to turn on, tune in & drop out. Congrats, Prof. Tim Leary, for getting it right, or at least that’s how it seemed at that time.
What’s been going on in the wonderful world of social media? A trifle depressing for some & where’s my anti-depressant when needed most?
Heard the latest news concerning DEI/woke? Here’s a perfect example of how good intentions slowly went awry. Mankind’s inclination to darkness & all that, don’t cha know. What initially began as a goodwill gesture slowly morphed into something we’d all rather forget, though just wait & anti-DEIs will eventually adopt the same attitude, which was clearly “ram it down their throats at all costs!”
Hopefully, I’ll be long gone by that time, but probably not since I seem doomed to an endless amount of suffering. As Grandma used to say, “I must have a been a sharmootha!” (Arabic word for whore). Speaking of my maternal grandmother, the subject of religion just came to mind!
Palm leaves hanging everywhere on Palm Sundays, religious icons caked on Grandma’s walls. Not just any icons, mind you, real iconsfrom the Eastern Orthodox Church, as Grandma always emphasized.
Of course there was her mother, my maternal great-grandmother, who’d converted to Catholicism, but that’s a different story entirely. Some big deal back in Lebanon around 1880 where the Eastern Orthodox Church ordered the death of a family member. That was the story as related to me, swear to God! One thing I do know, middle eastern folk are a crazy lot. I should know ‘cause I’m one of ‘em.
Surprised someone even exercised the mental gymnastics required to convert from Eastern Orthodoxy to Catholicism because they’re mortal enemies, don’t cha know? Some existential disagreement about how the Holy Spirit was born. Go figure…
Yes, Mom’s side was intense, but Dad’s side of the family was often more so, mostly Lutheran, with a dash of Mennonite. I was surrounded by religion 24/7 as a child, especially at school, where the cornerstone of my education involved the “Golden Rule.”
First order of the morning, students stood at attention to say the pledge of allegiance, with hand dutifully held over heart. Just before lunch, my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Brunson, sporting a large goiter she’d never had removed, prompted the class to stand and say the Lord’s Prayer. The main thing that bothered me (other than the huge goiter no one dared speak of), was the Jewish kid in the class. Joey might’ve known Kaddish, but certainly not the Lord’s Prayer & so simply bowed his head & lip-synched, trying to appear respectful. We were just kids, what did we know? Come to think of it, what do kids really know?
Another hot topic on social media now! Plenty of opinions on both sides, some are (regrettably) quite vocal and rant on and on and on and on…
Mrs. Brunson ‘twas about the time of the landmark Murray v. Curlett Supreme Court case (separation of church & state), and I don’t believe the Lord’s Prayer went on for much longer & recall that Mrs. Brunson retired shortly afterward. God only knows what would ensue in today’s world if such a situation arose. Probably a shootout with assault weapons!
No one ever would’ve considered such a thing way back when. Too much “fear of God” in them, perhaps?
(Move over Hedda Hopper, Louella Parsons & Adela Rogers St. Johns)
Don’t cha know the latest happenings around Hollywood? I do, even stuck all the way up in San Francisco. YouTube rules the roost, and is frequently on my menu, as I peruse the latest haps in Hollycyberworld.
Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. was confirmed on Feb. 13th, as many of you know, and Tulsi Gabbard also. Both were former Democrats and so was I, once upon a time…light years before the Democratic Party became so horrendously out-of-touch with the average person.
Latest fad on YouTube…The Panic Button! Panic Button channel’s two gals are hysterical, reacting in novel ways to thoroughly bizarre videos. Check it out.
Worcester, Massachusetts just made the news! It’s the latest, it’s the greatest, it’s the United States’ transexual haven. A burning question I need answered…who, oh who is Miss Thing with the horrendous blue hairdo propped up in front of the camera? Missy Blue Hair blabbed on and on about her many disabilities. Oh, the poor little thing! May Jesus, Mary & Joseph have mercy upon your soul.
Miss Thing, get a life, & off the screen and out of my living room! And while you’re at it, do something about your hair and that outfit! Wait, just had a brainstorm! Let’s take up a collection and send Missy Blue Hair to a Paris finishing school. Clearly America has failed her so maybe France won’t.
Speaking of France, what in the Pope’s name is going on with Candace Owens? Ms. Owens is always so pretty and wears the latest fashions (which everyone knows I adore), but her recent video series on the first lady of France, Brigitte Macron, comes up a bit lacking. Miss Owens’ exposé may pack a punch in the U.S., but I suspect Candace doesn’t really understand French culture, so it may go over differently there…
On vera!
Even if Candace turns out to be right about the first lady of France, doubt the French would even care and would probably throw a party celebrating Brigitte’s success in Transworldylvania!
Let’s face it…Brigitte is hot!
Lord knows the American version of Brigitte would’ve been busted on their very first foray into the public arena, having sported horrendously oversized shoes (can you say special order, size 15, boys & girls)? Regardless, Ms. Owens is a crackerjack investigative reporter so we won’t hold the fact that she’s an ardent Papist against her, shall we?
Just watched Megyn Kelly’s show, and she’s gorgeous beyond belief and wears the most stylish fashions (which everyone knows I can’t resist). Adam Carolla was her guest that day; always enjoyed watching him on Fox Network’s “Man Show,” with former partner Jimmy Kimmel. Those two – quite a different lot these days – wonder if they even speak now? Doubt it very much, don’t cha know!
My oh my! If only I’d been born looking like Megyn Kelly! I’d be counting all my millions now, having buried my most recent husband, and of course, on my way to Hollywood for a screen test – for the remake of Gone with the Wind. Guess who’ll be playing Scarlett O’Hara?
(Move over Hedda Hopper, Louella Parsons & Adela Rogers St. Johns)
I often find myself on YouTube (since I have a Roku box, directed to my TV screen), watching a barrage of videos from all manner of content creators. Just can’t imagine how anyone could bear to watch an itsy-bitsy phone for any length of time. That would ruin it all for me since I’m hopelessly addicted to this medium…
Especially so when a classic film is being shown, and such was the case this week watching Circe the Enchantress on YouTube (with Czech intertitles & Spanish subtitles). I had to settle for the Czech/Spanish version since no one’s posted the complete film with English intertitles. Reference please:
If you don’t understand Czech or aren’t fluent in Spanish (como yo), watching Mae Murray (aka the Princess Mdivani) emote is likely all you’ll need. Very glad I watched this since it showed me that she was truly one of the greats of the silent era.
Circe, the Enchantress, 1924, starring Mae Murray
I also suggest watching the film jewel in Mae Murray’s crown, 1925’s The Merry Widow, directed by Eric von Stroheim, for anyone who wants to see “poetry in motion.” Von Stroheim brought out a unique quality in Mae which resonated with filmgoers worldwide. Reference please this link and incidentally, Miss Murray doesn’t appear until almost 11½ minutes into the film. Certain there were long arguments between said actress and director von Stroheim about that decision!
1925: Mae Murray (1885 – 1965) stars as dancer Sally O’Hara in the film ‘The Merry Widow’, directed by Erich Von Stroheim for MGM.
The 1950 film, Sunset Boulevard, simply had to be based on Mae Murray’s life. Sunset Boulevard’s Norma Desmond is the essence of Mae Murray, and since reading Michael G. Ankerich’s biography, “Mae Murray, the Girl with the Bee-Stung Lips,” any lingering doubts I had were permanently dissolved.
These two women are one and the same.
The Ankerich book is quite well-researched, and next to “Swanson on Swanson,” one of the best accounts ever written on the silent era. The Jane Ardmore 1959 book, “The Self-Enchanted,” which regrettably relied on the recollections of Mae Murray (still alive and kicking at the time), was the only biographical account I’d previously digested, until the Ankerich offering some 50 years later.
“Self-Enchanted,” indeed! Clearly more “self-deluded,” which likely explains why Mae was found on the streets of St. Louis, Missouri in 1964, aimlessly wandering about in a state of confusion at age 79. Reference please, this article:
Hate to think of what’ll happen to me then. Wait, that’s only 8½ years from now, perish the thought!
Other happenings this week…got to brush up on my latest Hollywood gossip. Shall I do another movie review? NO! Let’s not and say we did, n’est-ce pas? Think that my Emilia Pérez review from last week will tide me over for quite some time, thank you very much.
But really, I just gotta trash some other film since there’ve been so many recently. Guess I’ll just peruse the Oscar nominations and come up with a sufficiently delectable menu. Don’t cha think?
My mind wanders, or haven’t you noticed? Guess it’s my age…going to be 71 in June. One of my co-workers not-so-lovingly disparaged my mind as being a “senior citizen brain-dump!”
Evil woman…
Where oh where is Miss Marion Davies when you need her most? WRH’s mistress was much to my dismay (according to Adela Rogers St. Johns, a longtime Hearst columnist), the very person who had NOT wanted dear WR to divorce Millicent (Mrs. Hearst). I’d always heard differently, all those many claims and memoirs stating it’d been Millicent Hearst herself, not Marion Davies, that had made all the fuss, the former having been so staunchly Catholic.
Guess time eventually reveals all truths and guess I’ll find out soon enough when it’s time for me to cross over.
(Move over Hedda Hopper, Louella Parsons & Adela Rogers St. Johns)
Where, oh where is dear Miss Hedda when you need her most? We don’t miss the hideous millinery, but Keith’s Theatre sure misses her smarts. She could’ve stopped the release of “Emilia Pérez,” with just one phone call. So could Louella Parsons & even Adela Rogers St. Johns, as they both had a direct line to Hearst at San Simeon. But alas, it’s 2025, which brings us to the cause célèbre at the moment, “Emilia Pérez.”
Best Picture, indeed!
I almost always keep my vicious mouth shut where Hollywood is concerned but when I was subjected to several snippets of this musical, well…the film was just screaming for a movie critic, so here goes…
What in God’s name were you all thinking? Had I been charged with production; this idea would never have progressed past the planning stage.
Let’s see if I’ve got this straight, (70-year-old relic that I am): a Mexican cartel kingpin decides it’s time to say bye-bye to Mr. Peepee and hello to Ms. V-jay-jay. The entire thing is then scripted, set to atonic music, then subsequently, perish-the-thought, committed to celluloid!
Oh, I almost forgot, someone had the bright idea to cast a transexual in the leading role, then nominate Miss Thing for best actress, thinking that’ll somehow redeem this horrendous mess.
Piffle…
Suffering through several minutes of this debacle was almost more than I could stomach, cannot fathom how anyone could endure the entire film, and furthermore, I’m amazed the cast could even keep a straight face while shooting. I would’ve ended up spreadeagled on the floor, in spasmodic laughter.
Forget about potential paychecks, I’d say toodles & do triple-shifts at McDonald’s to pay my rent, thank you very much. It clearly isn’t furthering the craft…oh wait a minute, there is no more craft!
Don’t cha think?
Spending a lot of time these days browsing YouTube (the 21st century answer to NBC, ABC & CBS) and love the wit and wisdom of one Blaire White of The Blaire White Project. Her reaction to selected Tik-Tok videos is especially luscious.
While we’re on the subject, what about the transexual that started it all, Christine Jorgensen? We certainly can’t forget this multi-talented lady who both acted and sang. Her voice was soft and sultry, her nightclub acts were très chic, and don’t forget her summer stock performances as Madame Rosepettle in Arthur Kopit’s “Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mamma’s Hung You in the Closet and I’m Feelin’ So Sad.”
Handsome Brad Polumbo has recently appeared on Sky News in Australia on several occasions. What a catch for someone! You rule, Brad!
Jon Voight, perennially handsome & a fine actor in many films, is apparently inside the presidential circle. Oh-so-painfully recalled the 1970 best picture Oscar win for “Midnight Cowboy,” since I was just 16, and remember all too well its initial “X” rating that was later downgraded to “R.” It didn’t matter, though, since I couldn’t get in then and didn’t until ’72, when I turned 18. The infamous “X” rating was all the result of one racy (at the time) scene in the men’s room with a male hustler which didn’t surprise me much, and I ended up hustling myself a few years later. It was simply a matter of fate, or possibly God’s will?
Oh, blessèd memories of my boyhood in the 50s where endless scraps of film ended up on the cutting room floor…who could forget the censorship of the Eisenhower era? Guess we can thank the 1960s “hippie effect” for reversing that trend (yes, I was one of “those hippies”).
Too bad the subsequent “hippie” liberation got completely out of hand, exponentially, which brings us to the present moment!
