The fact that film critics are losing their jobs is no longer considered breaking news; rather, it’s become a protracted process of mourning over the last few years. But when Variety, the trade journal once known as “the Bible of show business,” fired Todd McCarthy on Monday, after thirty-one years, it sent shock waves through the film industry. Civilians who don’t read “the trades” may wonder what the fuss is all about. Todd was usually the first critic to voice his opinion of new movies in print (along with his counterpart at the Hollywood Reporter, Kirk Honeycutt). His opinion had weight; it mattered.
Variety has played a big role in my life. I started reading the weekly edition of Variety when I was ten or eleven years old, because my father subscribed to it, and I found it fascinating. I didn’t care about overseas box-office grosses, but I was mesmerized by such exotica as its nightclub reviews and travel logs (“NY to LA,” “London to NY,” et al) that tracked the comings and goings of the show biz elite. I dwelled on the obit pages, which not only commemorated the passing of industry veterans but even the fathers and mothers of prominent people. I especially liked the self-promotional ads many entertainers placed in its pages. My most tactile memory of reading Variety in those days was how black my hands would get from its inky newsprint. I never thought I’d feel nostalgic about something so annoying.
The gifted and prolific Alexandre Desplat, whose scores this year alone include Fantastic Mr. Fox, A Prophet,Coco Before Chanel, Julie & Julia, and The Twilight Saga: New Moon, poses with Academy music branch governor Arthur Hamilton, whose many songs include the standard “Cry Me a River.”
One of the most enjoyable events of the Oscar season isn’t a high-profile media event. It’s a party held at a private home in Beverly Hills by the Society of Composers and Lyricists. Virtually every nominee for Best Song and Score turns up for this annual gathering of music industry professionals.
The party is informal and offers fans like me a chance to schmooze with composers and songwriters I admire…but, as it turns out, that’s what the guests of honor do, too.
If you attend the new production of Alice in Wonderland, you’ll not only see Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and other well-known performers onscreen; you’ll hear some familiar voices, especially if you’re fond of British actors. I pinpointed Alan Rickman as the Caterpillar right away; his delivery is unmistakable. But it was my wife Alice—the real Anglophile in the family—who identified Stephen Fry as the Cheshire Cat and Timothy Spall as Bayard the hound. (After all, she listened to Fry read the Harry Potter books; he’s on the British audiobooks while Jim Dale did the American versions.) Neither one of us could i.d. Michael Sheen as the White Rabbit, nor did we realize that two distinguished veterans, Michael Gough and Christopher Lee, provided the voices of the Dodo Bird and Jabberwocky, respectively.
Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland has always held great appeal for Hollywood. Johnny Depp is a big lure, but back in 1933 Paramount put almost all of the studio’s star-power into its production, including Gary Cooper, Cary Grant, and virtually every actor it had under contract—including W.C. Fields as Humpty Dumpty.
Joseph L. Mankiewicz, later to take home multiple Oscars for his brilliant films All About Eve and A Letter to Three Wives, fashioned the screenplay and was faithful to Carroll’s text—perhaps too faithful, given that it was meant to be read and not performed. Co-screenplay credit is given to preeminent production designer William Cameron Menzies, who visualized each character and scene. The director was former cartoonist Norman McLeod, who had recently steered the Marx Brothers in their comedies Monkey Business and Horse Feathers.
Having already partnered with Turner Classic Movies for one series of dvds-on-demand, turnerclassic.moviesunlimited.com, Universal Studios Home Entertainment has now launched an even more ambitious program of custom-burned discs in with amazon.com. One of the titles in its initial lineup is a particular favorite of mine, and included in my new book, Leonard Maltin’s 151 Best Movies You’ve Never Seen: the 1980 drama Resurrection, starring Ellen Burstyn, Sam Shepard, Richard Farnsworth, and the legendary stage actress Eva LeGallienne. Written by Lewis John Carlino and directed by Daniel Petrie, it’s a moving and unusual story about a woman who has a near-death experience, then discovers that she has unexplainable healing powers.
If you attend the new production of Alice in Wonderland, you’ll not only see Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and other well-known performers onscreen; you’ll hear some familiar voices, especially if you’re fond of British actors. I pinpointed Alan Rickman as the Caterpillar right away; his delivery is unmistakable. But it was my wife Alice—the real Anglophile in the family—who identified Stephen Fry as the Cheshire Cat and Timothy Spall as Bayard the hound. (After all, she listened to Fry read the Harry Potter books; he’s on the British audiobooks while Jim Dale did the American versions.) Neither one of us could i.d. Michael Sheen as the White Rabbit, nor did we realize that two distinguished veterans, Michael Gough and Christopher Lee, provided the voices of the Dodo Bird and Jabberwocky, respectively.
Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland has always held great appeal for Hollywood. Johnny Depp is a big lure, but back in 1933 Paramount put almost all of the studio’s star-power into its production, including Gary Cooper, Cary Grant, and virtually every actor it had under contract—including W.C. Fields as Humpty Dumpty.
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