Those "retro" Force Awakens posters.
Most film columnists start writing their Christmas pieces around August, churning out their memories of It’s a Wonderful Life (which is a story in itself – this generation has no idea that the film was considered an oddity and a flop until Jimmy Stewart mentioned it on The Tonight Show and, as it was in the public domain and available for cheap airings, it has since been considered a “classic”) and other routine movies that just happen to tell a Christmas like story. Movies like Miracle on 34th Street and Christmas in Connecticut still hold up and there are others I’m sure that do as well, but few movies that are singularly about Christmas float my boat. I’ve seen them a million times and most are creaky. Here are my favorite Christmas movies, a list my successful and thoughtful brother calls Christmas Movies for People Who Aren’t Enamored with Christmas Movies. [Read on here…]
This was all we needed to hear: The DUKE was coming to Oklahoma City.
It was the year of our Lord, 1972 and The National Cowboy Hall of Fame and Western Heritage Center in Oklahoma City (now called the National Cowboy Museum and Western Heritage Center) hosted every year a grand event called the Western Heritage Awards, where they gave a trophy called “The Wrangler” to outstanding theatrical and television Westerns and the winner this particular year was a film called “The Cowboys,” starring, well, you know who. [Read on here...]
I’ve never been one to go to a movie solely based on casting because, let’s face it, actors sometimes aren’t the best judge of script or director material. The exceptions these days might be, for me, Leo DiCaprio, Nicholson or
Our topic today was prompted by a conversation I had after my dear friend Bill Thrash’s funeral a couple of weeks ago. His surviving sister told me that when my pal, about whom I thought I knew everything, was 16, around 1954, in the small southeastern Oklahoma town of Ada, he commandeered a shitload of dimes and tried, to the very best of his ability, to call his hero, Frank Sinatra.
I started thinking then about how many of us have attempted to be in touch with our favorite movie star, director, producer, writer, composer or author? I used to do that very thing a lot when I was single and bored.
Here are two stories that are so personal that I’ve never written about them before... [...]
The Only Game In Town
Here’s the first time I ever stumbled upon a film set – my family and my eight year old bad self had driven from Purcell, Oklahoma to San Antonio, Texas to attend the HemisFair ’68, a wing ding of a World’s Fair (do those still exist?) which featured H.R. Pufnstuf as its mascot and the Tower of the Americas as its symbol of both American and Texas ingenuity and, as I remember, a heck of a place to eat while slowly spinning above the earth.