Holiday Season is Viewing Season too, and Barb and I have used the extra free time to watch a pair of movies. We saw The Green Book at the theater as part of dinner and a movie night with friends, and Mudbound at home on the evening of Christmas Day after sending the family packing and cleaning the house. The first has been getting great word of mouth and we actively sought it out, the second is a less recognized though highly acclaimed Netflix-produced film from last year that we stumbled across. They are both moving stories of race and hate and love.

The Green Book is the lighter of the two films. It’s a buddy film, it’s a road film, it’s a film of racial divide, as a white bouncer from New York drives and in other ways assists a black pianist on a barnstorming tour through white establishments from Ohio to the Deep South in 1962. A little Driving Miss Daisy, a little It’s a Wonderful Life, a little Goodfellas, and a whole lot more.

Don Shirley, the musician played by Mahershala Ali, has the education, the talent, and the diction of the upper classes, but is just an excluded Negro in the South. His private torments extend beyond race. Viggo Mortenson is Tony Lip, the temporary driver, street smart and tough, but with an expansive heart and a commitment to get Shirley to every show, no matter the circumstances.

Mortenson has done road pictures before, and no matter how desperate the situation here, nothing compares to the absolute bleakness of 2009’s The Road. But in both pictures, we learn of the power of love.

Love is also the last redemption in the much starker, more despairing movie, Mudbound. The setting is once again the racial divide of the South, this time in the World War II 40’s. A black family and a white family tied together by the land they farm, struggle against each other, the culture that makes them enemies, and nature that plagues them with unyielding fields and never-ending rains. Any act of friendship or kindness between black and white is viewed with suspicion, every action has the potential of being the lit fuse that sets off the powder keg. After the horrible, the unspeakable does occur, one character acts to destroy hate, another finds he must re-create himself “not for war. But for love.”

These are not Christmas movies. But isn’t that final message what we need the season to be about?

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Best Comment from Friday’s Post:  THANKS–A BREATHE OF FRESH AIR–John Markay

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Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences:

I hear the Oscar Awards are coming up pretty soon. And I hear you are having trouble getting yourselves a host for the broadcast. The Kevin Hart thing didn’t work out too well. Neither Johny Carson nor Bob Hope is around to bail you out. Well, February is a good month for me to travel, and L.A. is sure warmer than Chicago that time of year, so here I am, waiting for your call.

This isn’t the first high profile job I have applied for. For the sake of the country, I had volunteered to be a Trump Cabinet Secretary (little did I know how over-qualified I was-and how lucky I was to be rejected.) I have volunteered to replace Alex Trebek when he reaches his Final Jeopardy (so far all I have heard from Alex is “Wrong Again Les.”)

But this is different! I am ready! I am prepared! So Oscar Gods here is my application.

TEN REASONS I SHOULD BE THE OSCAR HOST

1. I have never told a gay joke. In fact, some would say I have never told a joke. Barb did once accuse me of having no sense of humor.
2. I have never given anyone the wrong envelope unless you count that Valentine I gave to the wrong Debbie back in 7th grade.
3. I have a friend who is a film critic (of course he tells me why every movie I like is crap.)
4. I thought it was a great idea to have a “Most Popular Movie” Oscar category.
5. I bought a new tux for my kids’ weddings. I need an excuse to give it a 3rd wearing.
6. I promised Barb that someday I would introduce her to Bradley Cooper.
7. I promise not to drink, snort, or inject my way through the 3 to 4 hours the ordeal takes.
8. I thought David Letterman’s Uma/Oprah bit was hilarious.
9. I have always been a fan of Sacheen Littlefeather.
10. After I do the Oscars maybe I can get a gig on Dancing with the Stars.

So give me a break,  guys. I doubt hosting the Oscars can be any harder than my day job!

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Our most recent post: Mrs. Maisel Still Rocks! 

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It has been a year since I offered all of you the Christmas present of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. And thank you Amazon Prime for bringing us this year’s gift of Season 2. The story of the early 60’s Midge Maisel, struggling to survive as a mother, ex-wife, and stand-up comedian is back with 10 streaming episodes.

Barb and I started watching the new season early this week and have only watched the first three episodes. but I have to stop and write, now! The first two episodes were a little slow and philosophical, but with Episode 3, the writer, director, and especially the amazing Rachel Brosnahan as Midge have all hit their very hilarious stride.

The episode, titled The Punishment Room, makes me rethink my position that Veep is the most side-splitting show on television. This episode matches Julia Louis-Dreyfuss and company in laughs and F-bombs from unexpected directions.

The episode includes (you could label this a spoiler alert, but there is no way to spoil this episode):

• A wonderful opening set piece in the apartment Midge and her kids share with her parents. It’s better choreographed than some Broadway shows I have endured. And the end of the scene is pure Home Alone.
• A spontaneous female conscience raising seminar with inadvertant consequences.
• Negotiations (not exactly spiritual) about a wedding reception between our Jewish heroine Midge and a rather dour priest and nun, while a young Catholic student weeps in the background. If you have watched even one episode of the series before, you know who will win this battle of fast-talking.
• A stunningly tasteless, unrequested and unwanted bit of stand-up by Midge at a public reception. It is so cringeworthy that those of us watching at home cannot help but laugh through our horror. After all, the shotgun Midg mentions isn’t pointed at us!

Barb and I can’t wait to find out what will happen next. If you aren’t already, I recommend you become a fan of Midge Maisel. Her bootleg albums are going to be big sellers!

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With the election and all of its rhetoric heating up, I know I need to take a step back and cool off.

We are a nation of pop culture. There are symphonies, but I don’t know many people who go to them. There are lectures on serious subjects, but I don’t know many people who go to those either. But everyone I know goes to movies or has their favorite guilty television pleasure. That’s the vernacular we all speak.

That makes movie quotes a societal shorthand. A word or a short phrase can convey as much meaning as a Shakespearian soliloquy. But when the same line gets used over and over again, I think it gets tiring and I start to feel the speaker or writer or commentator is just getting lazy. Here are 10 movie quotes that I could gladly bid hasta la vista, baby.

You do know what movie each of these if from, don’t you?

TEN MOVIE LINES I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF

1. Show me the money.
2. Here’s Johny!
3. I’ll have what she’s having.
4. They’re here!
5. Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.
6. There’s no crying in baseball.
7. I see dead people.
8. I feel the need…for speed.
9. I’m king of the world!
10. I’ll be back.

And our Bonus Number Eleven: E-LEV-EN

 

What quotes would you like to see gone for good?

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When the orchestra began the Overture, I felt the tears in my eyes. After 62 years, I was sitting on Broadway (The Vivian Beaumont Theatre at Lincoln Center, fifth-row center) watching a gorgeous production of My Fair Lady.

“So what?” most of you will say. Isn’t that some old musical about some old guy who takes advantage of a young woman? There’s no hip-hop. There are no juke-box favorites from the 60’s or 70’s. No sorcerers or green witches or Disney Princesses. Who cares about this old dinosaur?

Me, me, me! My Fair Lady debuted in 1956, the same year I was born. I grew up with the soundtrack album. The picture of George Bernard Shaw on the cover, the puppet-master/God to Henry Higgins and Liza Doolittle played by Rex Harrison and an almost-new-comer named Julie Andrews. Julie-f’in Andrews! Not on the screen as magical Mary Poppins, or as sweet-as-sugar Maria von Trapp, but live on stage as Eliza, the “gutter-snipe” who learns to become a lady.

I can sing every song, every word, and frequently have. From the fun of “A Little Bit of Luck,” through the schmaltz of “On the Street Where You Live,” to the sadness and self-realization of “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face.” I knew them all by the time I was five years old.

And here I was sitting and watching the giant stage with Higgins’ home revolving in front of me; clapping for the show-stopping raunchy chorus celebrating Alfred Doolittle’s last night of freedom before marriage; admiring Liza’s stunning performance at the Embassy Ball. It took all of my will-power, and a stern hand on my arm from Barb, for me not to stand up sing along.

We saw one of the last productions featuring Lauren Ambrose as Eliza. She will be replaced soon by Laura Benanti. We first saw Laura in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. I am sure she appreciates working with slightly better material this time around! Harry Hadden-Paton and Norbert Leo Butz were great in the other lead roles. Can I help it if I kept wondering what it would have been like to be in the theater for Julie and Rex in 1956?

On our walk back to the hotel after the show, there was time for discussion of the historical and sociological underpinnings of the show and its relevancy in the #metoo movement moment. They are relevant points. But for three hours I was in another world. And I loved it.

Thanks for the pre-anniversary surprise, Babe!

And to all you readers, what is your favorite Broadway memory?

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There have only been two hosts of Jeopardy! that mattered. Art Fleming gave the answers on most of the original run, and Alex Trebek has been the man behind the podium on the current version since the show’s reinception in 1984. Mr. Trebek’s current contract expires in 2020, and he has hinted that after 36 years and thousands and thousands of shows, that might be the time for him to retire. He has also suggested two potential replacements, hockey announcer Alex Faust, and broadcaster Laura Coates.

Hogwash!  If the answer is “This person would be the ideal next host of Jeopardy!” the question is “Who is ME!” Think about it. Appearances on both Jeopardy! and It’s Academic have shown I know what it takes to be tested under those hot TV lights without breaking a sweat. Ok, those were both decades ago, and I didn’t win on either show, but in my opinion, I have only improved with age. And my almost appearance with Steve Harvey on Family Feud should be enough to prove I’ve still got that cool under pressure style.

About physical appearance. Fans of Jeopardy! just want a host that won’t make them shudder each time they tune in. I think I can pass that bar. And thanks to Mr. Trebek, the audience has gotten used to a well groomed white-haired host. I have the hair color and style to match. I even have a Bangkok tailor so I can order as many fitted suits as I need for the multiple shows taped on one day.

How about a voice that gets attention and demands and commands respect? I served my six years as Board of Education President and kept those unruly crowds of unhappy parents in check. And I never had to raise my voice. They all just listened.  (True confession: The crowds weren’t really unruly or unhappy, they were mostly at our meetings to see their kids get awards and honors.)

Oh, one more thing. I promise not to pretend I know all the questions to all the answers. The players should be the stars of the show. And even if they are not at all brilliant, charming, or funny I promise not to embarrass them. It’s probably their life’s dream to be holding that buzzer! Who wants to crash those dreams?

So Sony Television, give me a call. I won’t let you down.

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Help me fight prostate cancer at https://ustoo.rallybound.org/seablue-prostate-walk/LesRunsforProstate

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Since 1992, the soundtrack of my life has mostly been a shuffle between the “the adult rock” of WXRT and the non-stop sports prattle on WSCR, “The Score.” I have followed The Score across three radio frequencies and a shifting roster of hosts. But for most of that time, the one constant was Terry Boers, the former Sun-Times beat reporter and columnist, whose pairings with first Dan McNeil and then Dan Bernstein, combined for 25 years on the air.

I followed Terry through a variety of time shifts, from “Who You Crappin'” to “Friday Fung.” I listened to him opine on championships for the Bulls, the Blackhawks, and the White Sox. Ill health took him away from most of the Cubs run in 2016, giving a bittersweet air to that “hell freezes over” season. His retirement at the beginning of 2017 coincided with his promise to write a book and to tell all the stories that never made it onto the air.

Last week, Terry was back on The Score for a three-day fill-in stint with his old running mate Dan McNeil. It reminded me that I had meant to read “The Score of a Lifetime,” for a while. I tracked down a digital version, looking forward to hearing all the dirt and to getting all the inside scoops. What a disappointment that read turned out to be!

Boers chose to tell his story in a “stream-of-consciousness light” manner that begged for an editor. The chapters are generally short, and somewhat sequential in following his life from his boyhood in Steger, IL through his career at local newspapers, the Detroit Free Press and finally the Sun-Times. He does a decent job at explaining his initial hesitation and then his final decision to commit to the concept of sports talk radio and the Score. But that is one of the few areas into which I gained much insight.

We read about his ongoing feud with WSCR host Mike Murphy, but there is nothing in the book that hasn’t been said on the air, with Boers denying any responsibility for the ongoing hostility. Of Dan Bernstein, Boers’ longest co-host, all we learn is that Boers didn’t hate him, but that producer Matt Abbatacola didn’t like him very much. Boers’ big reveal about Michael Jordan? Even when Jordan was a rookie, his teammates thought he was really, really, good.

Boers does let loose with how much he hated two college coaches of the past, Bobby Knight, and John Thompson. In regards to Indiana University’s Knight, we are given no reason for Boers’ contempt. (OK, I guess Knight’s actions and tantrums were so well known that Boers didn’t feel the need to elaborate.) Of Georgetown and Team USA’s Thompson, Boers main complaint seems to be that the coach didn’t want his players to talk to the media, a character flaw so great it earned him Boers’ invective as “one of the biggest asswipes of the decade!”

I respect Terry’s decision to spend quite a bit of time talking about the malignancy that haunted his 2016 year. As a physician, I find his description of his cancer a bit confusing, but I understand how overwhelming his illness was, and that like many patients he found the explanations from his medical providers weren’t always clear and forthcoming.

We also learn that the Detroit Piston Bad Boys were thugs, and that Boers’ wife is an angel. In fact, most people in Boers’ life seems to fit into one of those two categories.  And if he ever reads this review, I am afraid I know which of those categories I will wind up in!

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Miss this week’s Battle of the Bands: Read it here.

Help Support Prostate Cancer Awareness here.

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