Monthly Archives: February 2003

And now Joe Creig writes to ask, "One thing I've never understood is why it's possible for a movie to be nominated for Best Picture but not for Best Director.  Isn't the best movie the one that was the best directed?"

Answer: That may or may not be the case, but the real answer is that it isn't the same voting body in both categories.  The Best Director is voted on just by the branch of the Academy that covers directors, whereas Best Picture is voted upon by the entire membership.  So it's kind of like asking why a majority of voters in Arizona went for George W. Bush, whereas a majority of those nationwide chose Al Gore.  It's a different roster of voters.

VH-1 is rerunning the Michael Jackson interview/documentary on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. In case you weren't sufficiently creeped-out the first time.

A message from from Shelly Goldstein reminds me that Richard Gere won the Golden Globe for Best Actor, not Best Supporting Actor.  And Joe Creig writes to ask why the Academy doesn't set up rules as to how much screen time denotes a Lead Performer as opposed to a Supporting Performer.  I suppose there are two answers to Joe's question, one being that it's a subjective distinction, and any firm number is going to be arbitrary and arguable.

The other reason is that the Oscars — and this is true of the Emmys and the Tonys and any of these — exists because the Hollywood community wants to give itself awards for reasons of ego and hyping the box office.  No one wants rules that might exclude them from winning.  In fact, the relevant committees that govern each award are constantly being petitioned to loosen things up and give entrants more latitude — and they usually say no.  The administrators are generally afraid to make any decree that might cause some influential industry figure to scream that they lost an award because of a rule change.  Unless there's a huge outcry to fix a problem, they'll leave things as loose as possible.  That way, when someone doesn't get a trophy, it's because of the voters, not the rules committee.

If only to get a little blogging crossover going here, let me respond to my friend Peter David who, this morning, asks the musical question…

How in the HELL can Richard Gere be bypassed for "Chicago" while John C. Reilly was nominated in the same category.  Reilly was very moving in his portrayal, yes, but Gere was outstanding.  And when a film gets thirteen nominations and Gere is ignored, that's a slap in the face.  For that matter, when Christopher Walken is nominated for his perfectly good, but not outstanding, work in "Catch Me If You Can" instead of Gere, it's a kick in the crotch besides.

I think the easy answer is that Miramax pushed Mr. Gere for Best Actor, not Best Supporting Actor.  Gere wasn't beaten out by Reilly or Walken but by Jack Nicholson, Daniel Day-Lewis, etc.  That probably makes a little more sense.

Just how these folks are submitted and promoted has a lot to do with whether they get nominated or not — and it should be noted that it isn't always the studio's decision.  Some stars have it in their contracts that they get to decide, and it is not uncommon (when it's arguable) to look at the field of contenders and pick your fight.  When Walter Matthau and George Burns starred in The Sunshine Boys, many onlookers were baffled that Burns was submitted in the supporting category — but the studio was undoubtedly thinking as follows:  If they both were submitted for Best Actor, they'd split the vote of folks who liked that movie, and Burns wouldn't stand a chance against the other contenders for that year, who included not only Matthau but Jack Nicholson (for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) and Al Pacino (for Dog Day Afternoon).  The candidates for the supporting statuette weren't as formidable so they put him there and, sure enough, he won not only a nomination but the little gold statuette, as well.

That kind of thinking was probably in play here.  Chicago submitted Renée Zellwegger in the Best Actress category, and Catherine Zeta-Jones in the supporting group where there was more room.  They could have pushed Zeta-Jones for Best Actress but they decided to risk her splitting the votes (with Queen Latifah) in the lesser classification, rather than endanger Zellwegger's chances in the top category.  In that case, it worked and all three were nominated.  Gere may have insisted he be submitted as a lead or the studio may have felt that, given the other contenders, he stood a better chance there.  But it was probably more of a strategic decision than one based on the merits of his work.

As for him not being nominated there…well, there are many good reasons not to take things like the Academy Awards too seriously, and one is that they nominate a fixed number, regardless of the quantity of excellence around.  If there are 20 outstanding performances in a year, they nominate five.  And if there are 3 outstanding performances in a year, they nominate five.  This year, as usual, it was inevitable that some categories would have some worthy who would lose the game of Musical Chairs.  As my Uncle Aaron used to say, "Never feel sorry for anyone who makes more than a million dollars a year."

Once upon a time in this country, it was blasphemy to suggest that FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover was not a great hero and a man of unblemished integrity.  Since then, ol' J. Edgar's rep has suffered a lot with accusations of ignoble spying, the framing of political enemies, and an occasional tendency to lounge about his home in a pink taffeta gown with matching wrap.  And there's one more blight on his record that's worth noting, if only to remind us that government officials can and will do such things…

As explained before on this website (and here in a better and longer article done for Atomic magazine by James Gordon Meek) Hoover went after MAD magazine.  In 1958, he took umbrage at what now seems like an utterly harmless article in that silly publication, and dispatched agents to intimidate and dig up dirt.  Nothing came of it, of course, but it adds to the long list of things we pretend can't happen in this great land of ours.

I know I mentioned this before but I wanted to link to the Meek article, and I wanted to mention that the new issue of Mad XL (which goes on sale next week in most areas) has a nice piece on the whole matter.  Mad XL is a sister magazine to MAD that is mostly composed of reprints.  But every issue, they whip up a few new features, often of a historical nature.  This one reprints some of the FBI internal memos (available online here) and some of Mad's replies.  It's amazing that Hoover became a hero — especially to Americans who profess to believe in "law and order" — when he spent so much of his time on trivia unrelated to the actual breaking of laws.  You listening, Mr. Ashcroft?

Once again, I have posted a picture of a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup — the traditional Internet symbol indicating that the proprietor of the weblog is too busy with pressing deadlines to update his site.  As I needn't explain but will, it means that the operator of the website is swamped but that he'll resume posting in a day or so, and that he doesn't want you to think he's neglecting you and that you're not important.  I may be busy but I'm never too busy to post the can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup.

In the meantime, I would like to suggest that those of you interested in the Iraq situation go read this interview with Mario Cuomo over in Salon.  I think you can read it without clicking through a mess of ads but even if that's necessary, do it.

Hanna-Barbera fans will want to spend some time prowling around on this Brazilian site.  There you will find all sorts of audio and video clips of H-B favorites — some in English, some not.  I especially enjoy the escapades of Dom Pixote (Huckleberry Hound) and Pepe Legal (Quick Draw McGraw).

We have a winner! Quite a few of you sent me links to online companies that sell short video cables.  I could have ordered from several, but I ordered from MCM Electronics, and will let you know how it goes.  Thanks to Joey Helleny for the tip, and thanks to all who sent me other suggestions.

Does anyone out there know of a company — preferably one on the Internet — that sells video cables in short lengths?  I'm especially in need of an S-Video to S-Video cable that's about a foot long.  The shortest I seem to be able to find from the dealers is three feet.  A/V cables in foot-long and 18" lengths could also help tidy things up around here.  Drop me a line if you have any suggestions.  Thanks.

Several correspondents wrote regarding the long-hidden episode of Saturday Night Live that recently (finally) reran, and which we discussed here before.  All said it wasn't as awful as expected; that it was no worse, and maybe a notch above many other episodes of that season.  Some of that, of course, was because we were watching an hour version of what was originally a 90-minute show.  Every SNL gets a little better when its weakest moments are tossed, and we might have thought less of this one, had the trimmers not dumped Berle's closing rendition of "September Song" and a few other bits.

Certainly, his opening monologue of hoary one-liners bombed big, including the spot where they had someone off-stage make a noise so Berle could "ad-lib" that NBC had dropped another show.  But you know what?  That act was Milton Berle.  He did the same routine for decades.  I heard many of the same jokes in the Vegas appearance described in this column, and they went over big with that audience.  To book Berle as your host and then be upset at ancient jokes is like hiring Tony Bennett and freaking out because he insists on singing, "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."

The funny thing is that the writers wrote a pretty broad show that week.  One sketch was "The Widettes," which had everyone padded with huge buttocks.  Odd how I'd forgotten that bit.  Years ago, I worked with one of the former producers of the Sonny & Cher Show.  One day, he read me a quote one day from an SNL writer about how they were advancing sketch comedy from the infantile level of what Sonny and Cher had done.  Then he popped in a videotape and showed me, back-to-back, the Widettes sketch and an almost identical spot from Sonny & Cher.  Anyway, it's inconceivable that anyone could be "too broad" for a Big Ass sketch, no pun intended.  One wonders if one reason Berle made SNL uncomfortable is not because his style of comedy was so dated but because he reminded them of how much
they had in common.

But there are other theories.  One fellow who wrote me said, "I think Uncle Miltie may have gotten a bum rap on this one.  I wonder if he wasn't just so annoying during rehearsals that it colored everyone's view of the episode."  Maybe.  In the new Tom Shales book on Saturday Night Live, one of the writers is quoted as saying that Berle insisted on showing him his famously-huge penis.  A thing like that could color anyone's views.

An enormous new cathedral is being erected in downtown Los Angeles.  For it, an Ojai artist named John Nava has created 25 enormous tapestries depicting the various saints, each rendered by having a friend or professional model pose.  His model for St. Francis Xavier was my pal, cartoonist Sergio Aragonés.

That's right.  If you go to this cathedral when it's completed and look up at the tapestry of St. Francis Xavier, Sergio will be looking back at you.  Here's a link to an article in the Los Angeles Times that tells about the project.

The new edition of Ad-aware is now available.  This is the best of several programs out there that scan your computer for traces of "spyware" — programs or modules that secretly disseminate info on you.  There's a pay version of Ad-aware and a free version, and you can get either by going to their website.  It's easy to use and you don't want that scummy spyware on your system, do you?  Of course not.  Why did I even have to ask?

Susan McDougal is the woman who went to jail rather than cooperate with the Independent Counsel (i.e., Ken Starr's office) in the Whitewater investigation.  She was ultimately acquitted on some charges of obstructing justice, and the jury deadlocked on others, triggering a mistrial.  She was also acquitted of a supposedly unrelated embezzlement charge in Santa Monica.  The "supposedly" in that last sentence is because a lot of observers, including most of her jury, believed the case was bogus, and it was only brought to put pressure on her.  A lot of those folks also think she was literally tortured with her jail time, treated worse than a mass murderer, in a manner shockingly disproportionate to her alleged offense.

Some people think she's a criminal who was financially and/or romantically involved with Bill Clinton, and that she deserved every day she spent in the cooler.  Others hail her as a hero who lost years of her life and everything she owned, rather than confirm a couple of allegations against the Clintons that she knew to be false.  She is not at all subtle about insisting that she was offered immunity and freedom if she would lie, and punished because she refused.

Last evening, I wandered into my nearby Barnes & Noble and found Susan McDougal speaking, signing books, and just chatting with people.  A decent-sized crowd had assembled, which included two of her lawyers and two of the jurors from her embezzlement trial.  One of the latter stood behind me in the autograph line and told everyone that the case against Susan was an utter sham from Day One, and that she was still horrified that our judicial system could be used that way.

Before that, Susan spoke, primarily about what she observed in the various jails in which she was incarcerated.  It was a horrifying account of things you don't want to believe are done in our name, often to people who are only criminals on some technicality.  She is now working to bring these conditions to public attention.

Everyone there, of course, believed her claims about Starr's office pressing her to lie about Bill and Hillary so, after years of fruitless investigation, they could indict them over something.  I don't know if I buy every word she utters but I do believe her "crimes," if any, were grossly exaggerated by prosecutors with ulterior motives.  And I also believe her when she says that, if she'd said what Starr's goons wanted her to say, she'd never have served a day behind bars, and she'd have right-wingers throwing millions of dollars at her for books and lectures.  One of my great disappointments of the whole impeachment saga was in the way some people seemed to believe that there was no such thing as an immoral act if there was the chance of nailing the Clintons on anything.

Also, I definitely believe her about the jailhouse conditions, and I believe she is an extraordinarily brave lady who stayed the course in a situation where 90% of us would have crumbled.  We got to talk a bit, and I found her to be very warm and friendly, and genuinely moved that so many had turned out to buy her book.  I mentioned I'd been watching Bill Clinton on Larry King Live earlier and she asked me how he did.  I said, "I'd forgotten what it's like to have a president who can get both a subject and a verb into every sentence," and she laughed.  I always like people who laugh in a certain very real, honest manner, and that's how she laughed.  So I liked her.

Like I said, I don't know if I completely buy the way she spins her story.  Maybe I will after I get time to read the book, maybe not.  Lately, I don't 100% believe anyone in public life.  If you'd like to read the book and see if you do, this link will take you to the deepest Amazon where you can purchase a copy.

The Disney website has posted a nice online preview of the upcoming TV-Movie version of The Music Man.  Here it is.  In various Internet forums that relate to Broadway stuff, folks have already started condemning the thing as an outrage and desecration.  A certain percentage of theater buffs practically live to bash, and don't bother waiting until they've actually seen something to set their opinions in cement.  I will admit Matthew Broderick does not look like a carbon of Robert Preston but that's not necessarily bad.  In any case, I think I'll do something radical and wait until the show airs to decide how good it is.  This will occur on Sunday, February 16.

Over in Salon, they have an amazing interview with one of the jurors who voted to convict Ed Rosenthal and is now horrified by that verdict.  As I understand it, California law allows the growing of marijuana for medicinal purposes but federal law, which supersedes, says all marijuana cultivation is illegal.  Going by the books, it would seem that the verdict is unjust but technically correct…but (and this is a big "but") shouldn't the feds also be prosecuting the people who received Rosenthal's marijuana and everyone who was part of the dispensing process?

If this were a non-medical situation — and the federal agents are insisting that under the law, there are no such things as medical situations — then the pushers and customers would be prosecuted too, right?  I am absolutely not suggesting they deserve to be, but maybe the absurdity of this prosecution would be amplified to the breaking point if they did.  There are 80-year-old women out there smoking marijuana because it seems to stop them from losing their eyesight.  Shouldn't Mr. Ashcroft's justice department be hauling them into court?  For consistency, shouldn't they be put on trial and not allowed to mention the doctor's prescription or why they're doing it?  Maybe then someone would do something to clear up this Catch-22.

There's something really wrong with a justice system where Ed Rosenthal and Susan McDougal do hard time but Ken Lay and O.J. Simpson are out playing golf.

Oh — here's the link to the Salon piece.  If they make you click through a lot of ads to read it, do so.  It's worth it.

I had to turn off the ABC special on Michael Jackson.  The guy's just too weird, and seemed too clueless as to what he was doing to his own image with the interview.

In 1987, I worked briefly on a proposed cartoon series called Michael's Pets, which would have been based on a then-current line of plush toys.  The plush toys were, in turn, based on…well, on Michael's pets — the animals he had on the grounds of his mansion.  The show never went anywhere largely because though Michael had once been the star of an animated series (The Jackson 5ive — that was how they spelled it), he now thought it would be detrimental to his image as a rock star if he appeared on a kid's show.  Since the network wouldn't buy the series if Michael wasn't going to appear in it, that pretty much ended that.

(Michael did, however, make it clear that he loved Saturday morning cartoons.  He just didn't want to be one again.  At one point, he noticed one credit on my résumé and said, "I really love Richie Rich."  I looked around at his house and said pretty much what you would have said.  I said, "Michael, you are Richie Rich!")

I was only at his home (the one in Encino) three times for less than an hour each, so my impressions are definitely from afar, and possibly out of date.  But he struck me as a big kid who either had no one around to tell him "no," no matter how wrong he was, or was long since past the point where he'd listen to anyone who told him "no."  I was then reading a number of books about Howard Hughes — a man to himself, was carried out.  I couldn't help but note the parallels.  Some of those who worked for Michael seemed to be giving him good, pragmatic advice but I got the feeling that if he had suddenly decided he wanted to see Ventura Boulevard paved with chocolate pudding, somehow that would have happened.

Like Hughes, he fascinates us because we can't fathom how someone with that much success could so fritter it away on childish self-indulgence; how a person could spend so much constructing their private prison and lose all contact with the real world.

While I was waiting for him to come downstairs for what turned out to be our last conference, I had a quick fantasy.  In it, I said to Michael, "Come on.  Let's leave the bodyguards and all these handlers, get in my car, and I'll drive us down to Carney's for a couple of burgers."  Shocking all his aides in my daydream, he agreed — and we went there and as he ate a veggie burger and I had beef, I explained tactfully to him why he was becoming a public laughingstock.  (At the time, the jokes were just about him being effeminate and suffering from arrested development.  They have now evolved to explicitly charging that he rapes small children.)  In my fantasy — which lasted all of 30 seconds before he walked in and the real meeting commenced — he "got it."  Though I drove him home and never saw him again, he began leading a life that raised fewer eyebrows and triggered fewer monologue jokes and Enquirer headlines.

But of course, that could never have happened.  If he could have understood or changed, he would have long since done both.  And I guess the reason I had to turn last night's interview off was the same reason I can't watch news footage of accidents where you think, "If only someone could have done something before it was too late."  In Michael Jackson's case, I'm thinking it was probably too late about the time he stopped dancing alongside Jermaine and Tito.