Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts

Monday, August 8, 2016

Scary no more: here's Lucy, again


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(From Entertainment Weekly)

Since 2009, “Scary Lucy” has terrorized the small village of Celoron, New York, with square teeth and bugged-out eyes that suggest that, were she not captured in 400 pounds of bronze, she would love to pair your brains with her bottle of intoxicating Vitameatavegamin. Now that statue — which is generously considered to be a depiction of comedy legend Lucille Ball — will be replaced with another bronze sculpture, which presumably will not cause nightmares.

EW reports that the new sculpture, by artist Carolyn Palmer, will debut in Celoron, Ball’s hometown, on August 6. Palmer spent months watching I Love Lucy and studying pictures for the bronze piece. “I not only wanted to portray the playful, animated, and spontaneous Lucy,” Palmer explained, “but also the glamorous Hollywood icon.” At that time, the town will retire the “Scary Lucy” sculpture — which its creator, David Poulin, once diplomatically referred to as “by far my most unsettling sculpture.” You can see it below, and then never un-see it.








Update, August 6: The new, six-foot-tall bronze sculpture has been unveiled — and it's the vast, vast improvement that the comedy legend deserves. Today would've been Ball's 105th birthday.








                                Photo: LDM/PR

OKAY! It's Monday morning, I have a bit of a headache (though not from what you're thinking - I never touch the stuff), and lo and behold, here's good news. They have finally replaced the horrific statue purported to be Lucille Ball which disgraced her home town for SEVEN years. One can only imagine the deep dismay of the crowd as it was unveiled - or perhaps they christened it by smashing a bottle of Vita-Meata-Vegamin over its head.




I've been sort of keeping track of this story, because it represents a certain kind of bizarre. It brings to mind another - shall we say - misportrait. A few years back, an old lady who was an amateur painter took it upon herself to "restore" a painting of Jesus called Ecce Homo in a tiny church in Spain. It was peeling badly, and at first she only dabbed paint on the robe, but then. . .






This was either genius (to some people), or disaster.

It looks about as much like Jesus as that first sculpture of Lucy. But then. . . do we really know what Jesus looked like?

Are we certain there WAS a Jesus? Having been a Christian for 15 years, then walked away in total disillusionment, I now believe he was a collection of stories half-based on truth, and the other half, hope. He was wished into being, which is maybe not such a bad thing unless you're expected to believe he literally existed.




In the United Church, they lowered the ante due to falling attendance, until the Moderator of the church admitted she didn't even believe in God, let alone Jesus. But she was still "spiritual" (though not "religious"). So baking brownies for the UCW was enough to make you a member, so long as you ponied up financially to the point of pain. If you didn't, guilt and accusations that you had no "commitment" would be laid on with a trowel.




It's enough to make you embrace the new, improved Ecce Homo. Some have called it "Icky Homo", and even worse things. For a while, it brought masses of tourists to the cathedral, a boon for the town. I think the crowds have likely fallen off by now. Fallen off the edge of the world, more like. The key chains, fridge magnets, tote bags, tshirts, water bottles and action figures are now moldering on the shelves, maybe in the bargain corner at the Vatican gift store.






Meantime, we have a new Lucy, and she is a big improvement, but I still don't think they got the face quite right. She had an unusual kind of beauty, and was one of the first glamorous women to do comedy. Phyllis Diller was more the norm. Women had to look hideous to be funny. When Ball first starred in I Love Lucy, she was 40 years old, which by the standards of the day was more like 60. Some years later, she had her first baby (Little Ricky!) - and was actually pregnant on the show. Kind of like the first reality TV.




She came back in various guises for years, not always successfully, but like the trooper she was, she kept on working 'til the end.

So the new statue: shall we call it a resurrection? Shall we melt down the bronze from Scary Lucy and make a Donald Trump, offering free rotten tomatoes to the crowd?

Just a thought.




Saturday, February 1, 2014

That's it, I'm changing the name of this blog




That's it, I've had it. I've had it with trying to be profound, or even to publicize my upcoming novel (it's called The Glass Character, folks, and it'll be out in April!). From now on, this will be an ALL Stairway to Stardom blog. I don't know where this treasure has been hiding all these years (most of the couple dozen or so videos were uploaded in 2010). I don't know why none of them have gone viral like Mr. Trololo. Maybe Jimmy Kimmel needs to give them a boost. How about having some of the alumni on the show? What a great idea! It'll never happen unless someone scoops me, because my great ideas always fail. Sorry, they just do, and there is not a thing I can do about it.

Every singer on this show sings horribly flat. They never go sharp and are never on pitch. Even a quasi-opera-singer who did O Solo Mio, lipsynching to a recording of himself, sang the last note horrendously flat, just jaw-droppingly awful.




It really begins to look like a satire, like something from SCTV (which was in its heyday at the time), but the earnestness of the performers tells us that, incredibly, this is on the level. The sleazebag host and his brain-dead wife add a nice touch of tackiness, along with the dead plants and rickety wood-thingammies (what ARE they, anyway?) used as backdrops. The best part of all are the camera effects, the squiggles and bad-acid-trip flashes. It distracts a little bit from the awfulness of the performances.

Singers dominate, but there are also awful standup comics and a magician who fumbles around while sitting at a table. The host comes on and says, "Hey, I bet I can do a better trick than that," and he's right. A puppet show reveals most of the arm and head of the puppeteer. One poor kid is told, "Well, it's not that I'm telling  you to pursue anuddah area. . . ", with his wife chiming in, "I could tell you were nervous. Were you a little nervous?" Yet this kid wasn't any worse than the rest of them. Why they picked on him, we'll never know.




These people all have nasal "Brahhnx" accents, and many are Jewish. It's definitely a regional/religious thing. But these acts would not even go over at Bernie's bar mitzvah. There are obviously no auditions, anyone can come on the show and do anything they want so long as it isn't obscene (though some of the dancers are borderline). There are no rehearsals either, or a loud GONGGGG sound would issue out of the heavens. Needless to say, there are no prizes either, because they're "all winners".

Look them up sometime, it's surreal, and after a while you will stop laughing as you listen to the sound of broken dreams.


Monday, July 23, 2012

How Woody Allen stole Manhattan, Part 1




OK! It's Monday morning and time for your assignment.

I've been wondering about some things - specifically, about Top Cat, that cult classic cartoon series which ran ever-so-briefly in 1961. Only 30 episodes were ever made, possibly because the characters were all petty criminals with no moral compass whatsoever. Not a good influence on the kiddies.

Watching these again on a Classic Toons channel, I'm finding them hugely entertaining. But there are certain things that make the back of my neck prickle.

My fave character in the Gang of Six, then as now, is Choo-Choo. When I looked up Top Cat in Wikipedia, an entire entry was devoted to the different characters. Here's what it said about Choo-Choo:



Choo-Choo

Choo-Choo, nicknamed Chooch to TC and the gang, is enthusiastic and devoted to TC even when he’s clueless as to what he’s doing. He is a pink cat with a white long-sleeve turtle-neck shirt, he is the tallest of the alley gang cats and often is depicted with the eyes of a Siamese cat. He lives at the fire house as the fire house cat as seen in one episode "Hawaii Here We Come". Choo-Choo is apparently a very skilled poker player, as stated by Top Cat in the episode "The Golden Fleecing". He had a couple of love crushes "Choo-Choo's Romance" and "Choo-Choo Goes Gaga-Gaga", however unlike Fancy-Fancy or Top Cat, Choo-Choo has no courage talking to girls. When he talks, his voice sounds like Woody Allen. In the movie, his voice is a bit narrow and higher and he plays bingo at a retirement. He is voiced by Marvin Kaplan and Jason Harris in the movie.



Yes. Choo-Choo is definitely the best cat, if not the "top" cat. The Woody Allen connection is a little strange however: how many people knew about him then? He was likely doing standup, and maybe he'd been on Ed Sullivan or something, but I don't think he'd been in any movies. But for some reason, Hanna-Barbera wanted a likeness of his voice, maybe for its fundamental New York-ness.

Anyway, concerning the above clip: you have to watch a specific portion, 1:09 to 1:22. It's very New Yorky, full of the funk and babble of the city and its ramshackle urban skyline. But just listen to the music! Doesn't it remind you of something, perhaps a cartoon take on Rhapsody in Blue?

Now watch the beginning of the clip from Manhattan, the first thirty seconds or so. Compare and contrast.




Jesus, I can't believe how similar they are! When Woody begins to narrate, it's like we're hearing Choo-Choo resurrected from the Hanna-Barbera vaults.

I can't help but think that Woody unconsciously borrowed from this cartoon when making Manhattan. This is only one of many episodes that opened in a similar way. I mean. . . with a character in it who was supposed to be him. . .




It's just odd, is all, like so many wonderful things in this not-so-wonderful world.


 

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