They Came to Burgle Carnegie Hall

They were showing a movie called THEY CAME TO ROB LAS VEGAS on TCM last night and I was tickled because it made me think of my favorite fake movie title from THE SIMPSONS, which also furnishes the title of this "post." But I got into THEY CAME TO ROB LAS VEGAS 30 minutes late because first I had to watch George Saunders on THE COLBERT REPORT. So when I switched over to THEY CAME TO ROB LAS VEGAS, some dude was saying to Elke Sommer, "Honey, there's nothing harder to get into than another man's robe," and it was said with such dull authority that it depressed me, one of those lines that only wants to sound like it means something but it maybe probably doesn't mean anything and it doesn't care. It would rather sound tough than be tough. Right away the movie seemed too solemn and proud of itself, or proud of its supposed hipness, or something, and I didn't watch the rest, no, you couldn't even call it repressive desublimation, whatever was going on there. There was a sour feeling. What's wrong with me? I'm basing all this on one line, I didn't give THEY CAME TO ROB LAS VEGAS a fair shake! Last time I saw George Saunders, less than a week ago, he recommended Kerouac's VISIONS OF GERARD, which by coincidence I had just recently purchased at Square Books, so I'm reading it now and here's a fragment I enjoyed: "people may count themselves higher than pigs, and walk proudly down country roads; geniuses may look out of windows and count themselves higher than louts..." (He's on the side of the pigs and louts.) Also "teaching" ON THE ROAD and I forgot that near the end they have a big party in a castle! "and Charity creeping around upstairs in her nightgown with a flashlight."

Speaking of Lore

I was off on a little trip and saw, among other people, my brother-in-law David, who had a book with him called COUNTRY WISDOM & LORE, I think, and in that book it said that you can cure alcoholism by feeding the sufferer an owl's egg, only you can't tell him it's an owl's egg. So that was a book with an owl in it and we can add it to our definitive list of books with owls in them. By coincidence I was also carrying a book with an owl in it, a Library of America anthology called AMERICAN FANTASTIC TALES: 1940s TO NOW, and as you can imagine it is packed to the rafters with owls, probably. Just one so far, I admit. I'm going to use that volume in my ghost class, which I am teaching again, only there aren't as many ghosts this time, and lots more octopus-headed space demons, so I'm going to have to call the class something else maybe. Hey, speaking of lore, my brother-in-law David sent me an informative article about the medicinal uses of the unicorn horn. My favorite part is an old quote about a cure for mad-dog bite, which involves pulverized lobster shells and a unicorn horn "if you can get it," the best part of all being the author of the article's careful annotation, "The scarcity of unicorn's horn is indicated by the phrase 'if you can get it.'" I'm not going to "link" to it because big red letters across the top say the unicorn article is "for personal use only" and cannot be "reproduced without permission" and is "linking" a kind of reproduction? I just don't know anymore in this amazing new world that I hate so much. I am sure you all recall when Elke Sommer refused to let me "link" to her paintings of creepy dolls. So I'm playing it safe. I'm sure you can find the article by "googling" the phrase "scarcity of unicorn's horn is indicated" but I know you won't do it. You never do anything.

Elke Sommer Paints Paintings

Well, this is quite the coincidence. Yesterday I talked about what our friend Shields is up to these days: making sculptures of raccoons riding motorcycles. But mostly the "post" was about Elke Sommer. Today I found out (and why didn't I already know this?) that Elke Sommer has a gallery where she sells her paintings. There is one called "The Doll Cemetery." But I can't take you there or show it to you because of the fine print on Elke Sommer's "web" site: "Using parts of this website for any project, whether in printed, electronic or any other form, as well as including this website in other web pages through links or frames or other means, is prohibited by law." So Elke Sommer (or her representative) is saying that I can't "link" to her online gallery... which is counterintuitive, I think, because that means the only way you will be able to see Elke Sommer's paintings is if you take the time and trouble to seek them out for yourself. Maybe you are too busy! But if there was something you could "click" right here, you might "click" it, mightn't you? And then you might buy a painting! But who am I to question Elke Sommer's business decisions? Nancy Kwan did not mind when I "linked" to her "web" site! That is all I am saying.

Elke Sommer Speaks Five Languages

Remember our "post" the other day about Shields and Yarnell? What? You don't? What's wrong with you? I was going to tell you what Shields has been up to lately. This comes to me courtesy of Phil Oppenheim: it's a "link" to Shields's online shop where he sells his artwork, for example, a sculpture of a couple of raccoons on a motorcycle (pictured). Phil is also kind enough to say that I "made [his] day" with my recent Elke Sommer ruminations. He volunteers to "do the same" for me with a clip of Ms. Sommer bantering with Jack Benny (below). I know! You have no idea who Jack Benny is, unless you are friend of the "blog" "D." from Atlanta, who is the world's last known seriously hardcore Jack Benny fan. But chances are you are not him! Chances are you are a youthful "on the go" type person who can't be bothered to look up Jack Benny on wikipedia. In that case, I will describe the clip for you so you don't have to watch it. We find out that Elke Sommer speaks five languages (which is true) and then Jack Benny makes a joke about how nobody cares because she's so pretty. Then Elke Sommer sings a song from her hot new record album on the MGM label. I think it's called "He's a Clown." There's a sort of production number in a Spanish setting, maybe a nightclub. The background dancers are dressed as waiters and at one point they surprise everyone by whipping the tablecloths off all the little tables but leaving the dinnerware on top undisturbed, as in the classic magician stunt. Then they put the tablecloths over their faces Dracula style. They also end up twirling and whirling the tablecloths a lot. At the end they surround Ms. Sommer and everyone shouts "Olé!" There, now you don't have to watch this:

Fie, Tattered Maltin

Just watched BOY, DID I GET A WRONG NUMBER on TCM, thanks to a tip from Brian Z. Why does everybody hate it so much? My tattered Maltin assigns it one of its numerous pious "BOMB"s. I can imagine Godard loving this movie. For me, it's the kind of repressive desublimation we can all get behind: the harmlessly transparent and superficial kind. Like, Bob Hope refers to policemen as "fuzz," as in, "I've got more fuzz on my tail than a French poodle" (the line quoted to me by McNeil when he called - of course - to discuss the movie a few minutes ago). And Phyllis Diller, riding a motorcycle, squirts mustard into the faces of hapless "fuzz" through their driver's side windows, causing them to crash, which makes her cackle as she anarchically squirts more mustard onto the road. If I am recalling correctly, and I almost certainly am, my ex-boss Lisa once told me that Phyllis Diller on a motorcycle was one of the iconic images of her youth. Yet I searched the entire "internet" and couldn't find a still of it. So here's Elke Sommer holding an apple. See? Doesn't it remind you of CONTEMPT?

The McNeil's Movie Korner Film Festival Wrap-Up, Pt. 1

Film scholars from all over the world have been pestering me for details about the McNeil's Movie Korner Film Festival. After letting it all sink in, I must say the festival began and ended with disappointment. The first twenty minutes of SALT AND PEPPER were all we could stand, for example. Yes, we men who can watch anything - defeated. We did watch it long enough to see the canary yellow turtleneck pictured at this "link," and thus were able to note that the leading lady of DON'T RAISE THE BRIDGE, LOWER THE RIVER seemed to have borrowed a lot of Sammy Davis Jr.'s clothes. On the plus side, SALT AND PEPPER made its own sequel ONE MORE TIME seem like a masterpiece. Now please understand. I am not recommending that the amateur should just dive into ONE MORE TIME. It requires years of training, of knowing what to look for. Mr. McNeil remarked at one point, for example, "I can tell Jerry [Lewis, who directed] walked everybody through this scene step by step." Imagining that was more fun than the actual scene! McNeil was also highly appreciative of Peter Lawford's special bachelor room in the castle, though the carpet was not shaggy enough for his (McNeil's) liking. McNeil still contends that THE PATSY is the pinnacle of Lewis' talents as a decorator. "The colors are more subdued," he explained. Then he gave Theresa an interesting lecture on attractive lamps in the films of Jerry Lewis... the way they match the drapes, and so on. At some point during the presentation, Theresa disappeared, and we sorely missed her for the rest of the festival. As for the disappointment that ended the program, THE WRECKING CREW contains off-the-charts misogyny, even if one adjusts for the cultural norms of the time or endeavors to think of misogyny as a mere plot device that runs the engine of a certain kind of farce. They blew up Nancy Kwan AND Tina Louise, for example. Blew them up! And I don't even want to tell you what happened to poor Elke Sommer. What a downer. But the festival did have its unadulterated highlights, which will be addressed in coming days. (Pictured, Nancy Kwan, so wrongly mistreated in THE WRECKING CREW.)

McNeil's Movie Korner: The Aquamarine Consternation

Welcome to another edition of McNeil's Movie Korner. The old ham radio began picking up signals from Jeff McNeil during today's showing of BOY, DID I GET A WRONG NUMBER on TCM. McNeil was livid about a continuity error that prevented him from applying his full concentration to the scene in which Elke Sommer took a bubble bath in a big tin washtub. The chair positioned behind the tub, it seems, changed from orange to aquamarine on a number of occasions. McNeil couldn't swear to it, but he's pretty sure the walls changed colors a few times, too.