Judy Holliday..."Born Yesterday" mirrors communist issue! Bright star a legendary talent...

One of the good things about movie revival houses - especially if you are twenty-or-thirty-something -is that  they provide the opportunity for classic film buffs to catch flicks from the thirites, forties, and fifties on the wide screen instead of a cable network on the old boob tube.

In that regard, local theatres like the Aero, the Nuart - and especially the New Beverly Cinema - satisfy the bill to the max.

Last night, I caught Judy Holliday in a double-feature (both in black & white) which consisted of two of her most popular (successful films) "Born Yesterday" and "It Should Happen to You".

If you read this column regularly, you know that I am inclined to use the phrase "I wasn't born yesterday" alot when I am particularly annoyed with some bozo trying to pull a fast one over on me!

Of course, the Holliday film is where the expression was coined.

Holliday honed her stage skills in a night-club act before working in Broadway plays and musicals.

Her success playing the role of  "Billie Dawn" (in a stage production in 1946) led to her being cast in the film version (1950) for which she won the Academy Award for Best Actress and the Golden Globe Award:

Best Actress
Motion Picture Musical or Comedy

The fast-paced witty comedy also starred William Holden (a revelation in this role) and Broderick Crawford.

Garson Kanin originally wrote the play for friend Jean Arthur.


Shortly after the out-of-town engagements, Ms. Arthur became ill and was unable to take on the run in New York City; subsequently, Holliday stepped into her shoes in a role that sky-rocketted her to great success in theatrical circles.

Curiously, the subject matter may have hit home a little too close for Ms. Holliday in some respects.

The plot focuses on a gangster her character is romantically-involved with  who saunters into Washington to grease a few palms to force a bill amendment in his favor for an ongoing commercial venture.

Ms. Holliday's character tends to harp about the evils of big business and the perils of self-serving capitalism to the detriment of the "people".

In an intriguing twist, the charismatic star was called to testify before the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee to answer claims that she was involved in communism.

The "dizzy blond" was a highly intelligent talent, but lawyers advised her to play dumb (along the lines of some of the characters she portrayed on the silver screen) to save her pretty skin.

In her defense, she argued that she had been taken advatange of.

Although not blacklisted from films, Holliday was barred from performing on the radio and television for almost three years.

In the second feature that screened last night, Ms. Holliday played oppositie a young fresh-faced actor - Jack Lemmon - who was a total delight in every facet of his bang-on characterization.

George Cukor's directing - a handful of his camera shots showed-off stunning examples of his unique flair and individualistic style, for instance - was simply remarkable.

Judy was also hailed for her performance on Broadway in the musical - "Bells Are Ringing" - and won a Tony Award:

Best Actress
Best Performance/ Leading Actress in a Musical

The hit show inspired a screen version she also starred in (1960).

In this hilarious feature, the screwball comedienne played a telephone operator, inclined to get mixed up in the personal and professional lives of her clients.

"Bells are Ringing" is one of my favorite comedies - because it rustles up fond memories of  two friends of mine - who once owned a telephone answering service (with the old "plug in" board) in Hollywood proper (which I penned a post on about a year ago).

Post:  02/01/08
 
http://ijulian.blogspot.com/2008/02/raquel-welchhas-heavy-breather.html

Holliday began her show business career in 1938 as part of a night-club act called "The Revuers."

The popular Revuers landed gigs at New York hot spots such as the Blue Angel, the Rainbow Room, and the Trocadero (Hollywood).

Bernard Dick summed up Holliday's acting this way:

"Perhaps the most important aspect of the Judy Holliday persona, both in variations of Billie Dawn and in her roles as housewife, is her vulnerablity. Her ability to shift her mood quickly from comic to serious is one of her greatest technical gifts."

George Cukor lauded her, too.

"She had in common with the great depth of emotion, that unexpectedly touching emotion, that thing which would unexpectedly touch your heart."

Ms. Holliday was once-involved with the talented clarinet-player - David Oppenheim - whom she married in 1948 (Divorced 1958).

The loquacious character actress also maintained a long-term relationship with jazz musician Gerry Mulligan.

Ms. Holliday was interred in the Westchester Hills Cemetery in Hastings-on-Hudson in New York in 1965.

Holliday has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame  in Hollywood @  6901 Hollywood Blvd.

http://www.thetattler.biz/

Jack Lemmon..doubling for star's son has its perils! Avoid indie fly-by-night productions, eh?

A casting director paged me one fine morning and informed me that a director had requested me to double for Jack Lemmon's son - Chris - who was starring in an Independent film titled "Yellow Pages".

The production was anxious to jet overseas to a handful of locales where key scenes were being shot for the comedy release on a short schedule with a low budget.

So, what else is new in Tinsel town?

For this reason, the producers wanted a 2nd unit to snag establishing shots in the can before the cast and crew took off overseas.

Basically, the shoot required a series of drive-bys up on Mulholland in Beverly Hills.

When I drove up to the set, the 2nd assistant director bustled me off to wardrobe and make-up to prepare me for the series of quick snippets on celluloid.

Essentially, a wig was pinned to my scalp, then the unruly mop was crowned with a stylish hat to partly hide my full face since I would be plunked inside a long wide old caddie with the top down with "Henry Brilliant" written in an eye-catching script on each side panel.

The camera was set on top of a knoll along a quieter more-picturesque stretch of the infamous drive high above the ritzy enclave where Tinsel Town's tony elite hob-knobbed below.

The initial scenes went off without a hitch, so I thought the wiry little director would call it a wrap shortly after a catered lunch.

"Ah, just the martini shot, now," he sighed, as he strolled to the edge of a cliff and stared down into the deep mouth of the suburban San Fernando Valley stretching out below.

He motioned me over and pointed to an on ramp on Highway 101.

"I'd like you to drive onto the freeway and take up a postion by the side of the road" he instructed, as he pointed out the spot where he'd like me to glide to a neat stop.

"You'll have a walkie-talkie. When the camera is ready, and the setting is just right, I'll give you a cue to pull into traffic and head on down the highway at a good clip."

For some inexplicable reason, the traffic cop on duty overseeing the shoot pursuant to a prerequisite City permit, did not escort me.

As I hopped in the vehicle and turned on the ignition, I recall shouting out to the director:

"Are these plates legal?"

"No problem," he winked.

Well, I managed to get on the ramp, and roar into position with a minimum amount of fuss.

I parked, as instructed, and waited for the signal.

Suddenly, I caught a moving object out of the corner of my eye in the rear-view mirror.

Yikes!

The CHP was boring down on me, fast.

I plucked up the walkie-talkie and pressed hard on the send button.

"I think I have company! The Highway Patrol."

"Oh sh**," I heard the Director mutter as his voice faded into oblivion.

The Officer pulled up behind me and ground to a halt in a cloud of dust.

As he strolled toward the vehicle, the director's voice started to squawk over the box.

When I reached for the communication device, I guess the Officer wasn't sure if I had a gun or something like that, cause he suddenly barked out:

"Hands up in the air where I can see 'em. Drop that."

"It's a walkie-talkie," I managed to screech out, as I just about pooped my pants.

"We're making a movie," I quickly blurted out, because he didn't appear to hear what I said or was under the distinct impression that I was a bald-faced liar, in fact.

Of course, he would think that.

The camera was up on the hill, out-of-sight, and I appeared to be spinning a tall tale.

As he stood beside me befuddled by the name "Henry Brilliant" etched on the side of the dilapidated old vehicle, the walkie-talkie crackled to life once again.

"Are you there?"

"May I pick up," I meekly asked.

He gave a nod, but was still perplexed nonetheless.

"We're sending our traffic cop down to talk to the CHP."

At this juncture, the studly officer chuckled under his breath.

"A Los Angeles traffic cop? He doesn't have any jurisdiction here. This is my turf."

As we waited for him to zip down to us on the lone stretch of highway, the two of us engaged in a bit of idle chit-chat.

"Do you know why I stopped you," he quizzed.

I shook my head.

"Your plate isn't legal."

Imagine that!

It was not only "unregistered" but made out of plain old cardboard.

It was just a prop crafted by set dressing!

Then, things turned for the worse when he asked for my license.

Oh, my gosh!

Because I was in wardrobe, I didn't have my wallet in my possession.

Boy, was I up sh** creek without a paddle!

Finally, once our hired gun met up with old chippie, a pact was struck.

Both agreed that the production company should resolve the tangled legal issues the pickle thrust me in.

I expect there must have been a healthy contribution to the Officer's club, eh?

Bottom line, I learned an important lesson that day.

Never believe what an independent director or his fly-by-night rinky-dink outfit tell 'ya.

Always cover your a**!

http://www.julianayrs.com

Marilyn Monroe...crypt in Westwood tourist attraction!

After a delightful afternoon in Westwood at an art exhibition, I slipped into the Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery to take a gander at the crypt of screen siren, Marilyn Monroe.

Just as I expected, fresh cut flowers adorned her resting place.

Although the Westwood Cemetery stands in the shadow of the Oppenheimer Building on Wilshire - and is postage-sized - there are a number of heavyweights interned there.

Just a few steps away from Marilyn, for instance, tourists can take a peak at Producer Ross Hunter's plaque.

And, some of the headstones are etched with hilarious epitaphs.

For instance, on Merv Griffin's understated stone the script reads,

"I will not be right back after this message."

What would you expect from the loud-mouthed comedian, Rodney Dangerfield?

"There goes the neighborhood," he chuckles from the great beyond.

Dean Martin's last words are taken from one of his hit tunes.

"Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime."

I found it ironic that a couple of plots over from Jack Lemmon, Billy Wilder hails. If you recall, the dynamic duo teamed up on the hit comedy, "Some Like it Hot".

Other luminaries such as - Walter Matthau, Louise Jordan, and Mel Torme - attract a host of fans from all parts of the country each year - pining to pay their respects.

Across town, at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, fans of the great and not-so-great can whisper in awe at the tombs of - heart-throb Rudolph Valentino (we share the same birthday, May 6th), screen idol Tyrone Power, actress Fay Wray, dashing Douglas Fairbanks Jr., sex goddess Jayne Mansfield, screen tough guy Edward G. Robinson - and a multitude of others.

In fact - the grave sites have become such a ghoulish attraction in this regard - that it was only inevitable that sight-seers would be hungry to hover over the fated spot where they met their final demise, too.

So, enter - "Graveline Tours" - a company that takes you on a tour of the locations where celebrities gasped their last breath.

Along the way, you may stop outside of - "The Viper Room - to take a respectful glance at the spot where River Phoenix collapsed, for instance. Or, check out the mysterious garage on Holloway Drive, actor Sal Mineo stepped out of to meet his appointment with death.

For the longest time, I thought pilgrimages to grave sites were foolish, a waste of time. After all, weren't the precious memorials just a way to "mark" a sentient being's "time" on this mortal coil?

But, a couple of years ago, I was inclined to reconsider that notion when an eerie experience jolted me into reality.

One day, I embarked on a trip to Forest Lawn in Toronto, to pay respects at my own father's tomb.

Because "Victor's" stone had been a bit neglected over the years - what with my mother gone and myself residing in the U.S. - it had unfortunately slipped into the ground a bit out of plain view.

So, after the grounds-keeper assisted me in locating the plot, I proceeded to tidy up the vicinity of his marker and planted a flowering bush to brighten up the site a bit.

As I turned to stride off, I couldn't help but notice the stone adjacent to my Dad's was a bit neglected, too.

I felt a little pang in the deep recesses of my heart; it was as if someone was crying out to me, but who?

"Aw, what the heck," I said to myself. "Why not tidy up that stone, too?"

Shortly after I began to sweep dust and debris off the stone, I was suddenly taken aback when I spied the name etched on the marble placer for the first time.

Oh my God! It was my Aunt Louise's burial site!

A chill ran up and down my spine. Gosh, was she the one urging me from the eternal ether to take some compassion on her neglected stone, too?

Although the grave site may not be a soul's final resting place - undoubtedly - a grave site on this earthly plane is a place where a loved one may connect to a spirit that has passed.

Like humans, souls get nostalgic, too.

Walter Scott once said,

Death, the last sleep? No, the final awakening.