Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Woody Allen. Show all posts

Friday, September 21, 2012

Barbecue Joe and his Hot Dogs - Tin Roof Blues (1930)




Hot Dog Blues by Barbecue Joe and his White Guy Band
 
Yeah.
 
Oh yeah.
 
OHHHHHHH, yeah.




Since you left me, mama
 
I got dem ole
 
Hot Dog Blues.
 
Got it so bad I bin puttin'
 
Mustard on my shoes



 
Since you left me baby,
 
I'm hangin' roun'

With a big bunch of Jews!
 
(musical interlude)




Boss man sez 
 
I gots ta pay my dues
 
(thump thump thump)
 
With the mob on my case,
 
I cain't see how I can refuse




And though you're thinkin', baby
 
That it's only a ruse
 
And though you're thinkin', baby
 
That I've lost my muse
 
And though you're thinkin', baby
 
That I'se exclaimin' "J'accuse"
 
(while reading Spinoza)


 
 
It don't make no difference, naw sahhhhhhhhh. . .
 
Cuz I've got dem -
 
Got dem -
 
Ohhhhhhhh, cuz I've got dem -
 
Got dem-old hot dog blues:
 
Gotta get down to de cawnah store to buy some,
 
I ain't got no time. . . to. . . loooooooooose!





Sunday, September 2, 2012

Woody Allen sings "September Song"





Y'know, if you asked me abaht it, I'd have to say this: it's, kind of like a lwoong lwoong time from May to Decembah, which is when my pahrents go to Flahhrida every yeahh and stay there for, like, six months or something, and I haven't gahht time for things like, y'know dating, when I nevah know whethah the gehrl is  going to "dig" me or not, not that I think "dig" is the proper expression for what you'd cwall, amorous attachment to someone that lasts more than, say, two minutes? (pause for laughs and bodily contortions). Speaking of two minutes, I was trying to figure out why my gehrl friend awll-wees calls me "minute man". (pause) I asked my analyst abahht it and he said it had something to do with an egg timer. That I should use one. Becwosse my egg timer lasts at least twice that lwoong,you know? But then she said to me, honey, your time is up and it hadn't even, you know, beeped yet. Am I supposed to be singing a swoong here? Sahrry. I haven't got time for that, y'know, "waiting game" they twoahhk about in the sahhng, because to be hahhnest with you if I wait much lwwoonger I'm going to be dead! (riotous laughter, applause) Being dead isn't exactly conducive to amorous attachment unless you're, y'know, one of "those" people, and I'm nahht, I sweahh! No matter how it looks, I've never been that desperate.  I know it's very stylish right now to be a zahhmbie and all that sort of thing, but most of my gehrl friends have been zahhmbies to begin with! The sahhng says something about the days dwindling down. Reminds me of how I always go over-budget on my pick-chas. You know, the cash dwindles down.  (scattered applause) By the way, if you wondah why I cwaall them "pick-chas", it's becwooahs my cinematic style hasn't really changed since, you know, Take the Money and Run, when wooa-di-ences really appreciated good cinematography and really hot gehrls. I'm kind of an old-fashioned guy, y'know, I don't use a computer, in fact even typewriters are too modern for me, so I use a unique system, maybe you've seen it, it's called a Gutenberg? Run by hamstah, and hand-cranked when the hamstah dies. Most of my budget goes into replacing all the hamstahs that die of ex-woahh-stion after printing out all those pages, and besides, the Humane Society has been getting after me for some reason. So I spend a lot of twoyyme hand-cranking, you know? It's given me carpal tunnel so I can't indulge in my favorite athletic activity. Guess I'll just have to take up synchronized swimming. Thank you very much, good night. 




Monday, July 23, 2012

How Woody Allen stole Manhattan, Part 2




Can you see T. C. and the gang strolling down the street?

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.


 

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book
    It took me years to write, will you take a look


Monday, July 16, 2012

Les Meows: Victor Hugo in the trash can





Oh my GOD, I am too tired to write about Top Cat right now, but I have to get this down before I collapse! Since I started watching this show again on the Classic Toons channel, my whole life has changed. And as elegant as these opening and closing credits are - some of the neatest, most sophisticated animation I've ever seen, giving the lie to the belief that Hanna-Barbera only turned out schlock - the real discovery, or rediscovery,is a certain character: the one I used to call "The Pink Cat", my favorite Top Cat gang member when I first saw the show. When I was seven.

Which I was. Seven. And the cat was. Pink. I doubt if I knew his name then, as I was trying to keep the names of the whole gang straight and there were SIX of them which was just about one cat too many.


Another very odd thing about the show was the way they mixed cats with humans: a cat could be in a human hospital with a cat nurse, and the nurse could be engaged to a doctor who was actually a human. A cat could be a torch-singer in a night club that human males had the hots for.  It was all extremely weird and anthropo - anthropo - excuse me while I spit this word out.

I do remember Arnold Stang, T.C.'s voice, from other things, including commercials for a chocolate bar called Chunky. Stang died only a couple of years ago at age 90, so doing T. C. must've been lucky for him. They only made 30 episodes of this gem, maybe because these were alley cats and part of an actual gang of no-goods who went around cheating and stealing and breaking the law. Not a very nice example for the kiddies.




But I digress. I digress because I'm so tired my head will soon roll off my shoulders and bounce down the stairs like a bowling ball. I have to just get this in before I fade out for the day: now I've found out more about The Pink Cat! His name is Choo-Choo and he is THE coolest of the gang, wearing a white turtleneck (which was very beat back in 1961) and speaking in a Brooklyn-accented voice which Wikipedia tells me was supposed to resemble Woody Allen's.

Did someone mention Woody Allen? Did anyone know who the hell he was back then? Had he even made a movie? So unless you lived in some esoteric part of New York and went to coffee houses, how would you ever be exposed to him? Jesus. Hanna-Barbera was incredibly progressive.




The thing is, this was 1961 and I was seven. And then there was this pink cat. Then my brother got home from band practice. Then I went to bed.


TAKE TWO. . .




As it turns out, yes, yes, I DO have more to say about Top Cat. It came on late enough at night that I watched it through a drowsy haze. I liked it, but it was Different. It wasn't simple like The Flintstones or dumb like Ruff and Reddy or ridiculous like Underdog or Superchicken.

Top Cat was originally meant to be a sort of cartoon version of The Phil Silvers Show, which ran some time in the late '50s and which scared the bejeezus out of me because at the start of the show, there was this cartoon guy yelling out this incoherent gibberish. Took me years to figure out it was an army guy barking orders. I was about four, so my confusion was understandable. But who gave a shit about Phil Silvers anyway? He has been completely forgotten, and for some reason his name reminds me of an empty can of cheap salmon rattling around in a garbage can. He has all the historic importance of Arthur Godfrey's discarded fingernail parings.






But back to Top Cat.

In my last rather pathetic entry, posted in a twilight state, I neglected to mention that besides his Gang of Five (and no, I'm not going to give you their idiot names because it doesn't matter: they're something like Brain, Stupid, Fleas, Burlap Sack, and Twinkie), this show had an undercurrent of Victor Hugo that was completely missed by audiences and critics alike (not to mention Nielson ratings, which were always poor).

Top Cat was a rapscallion and a scalawag and a scofflaw and all those other things good alley cats aspire to be: but he was also hunted, chased from one end of the City of New York to the other by a menacing figure.




Behold: the Inspector Javert of the alley!

OFFICER DIBBLE!


Witless as he was, this guy had such an effect on world culture in the thirty short weeks of his cartoon life that in some parts of Australia and New Zealand, "dibble" still means "the fuzz".

As a kid I used to call him Dribble, or even Drivel sometimes, as he could be incredibly stupid. But that's not the point. Our wily Jean Valjean of the alley needed an adversary, something to push against. Otherwise there'd just be no story.

As I watch these cartoons again fifty years later (oh God, it's even more than that), they look different. I now realize "the Pink Cat" couldn't have been my name for Choo-Choo because he was grey, just like all the other cartoon characters, just like Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Deputy Dawg, Tennessee Tuxedo, Wally Gator, Magilla Gorilla,  Twinkles the Elephant, Lippy the Lion and Hardy-Har-Har, and all the rest of them.




Now the colors look deeply saturated and incredibly vibrant, as if I've stepped over the threshhold and into the land of Oz. Those colors were there all the time, of course, but hidden beneath the veil of early '60s drabness. The veil peeled back, these cartoons are incredibly enjoyable to watch again, though I am not sure why.

Maybe it's their sweet pointlessness. Hanna-Barbera, clever as they could be, were not Victor Hugo, after all. But there are  still moments that cause a little frisson of shock.

Top Cat is very New York, more New York than Woody Allen (and I've already explained how Choo-Choo, my fave character, was meant to be a Woody Allen impersonation, though frankly I like Marvin Kaplan's voice characterization better -  a little more adenoidal but friendlier, not so whiny). Its New Yorkness, if ever so simplified, is crucial to every plot line.



But at the beginning of more than one episode, there's an opening shot sweeping the ramshackle skyline of T. C.'s glorious domain, accompanied by a raffish bluesy upslide on the clarinet which is strongly evocative of the first few bars of Rhapsody in Blue. 

Holy God! Is THAT where that famous opening shot in Manhattan came from? Did Woody Allen really think he was being original?





 

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book
    It took me years to write, will you take a look



Sunday, July 15, 2012

Is Woody Allen haunted?



This is very very weird, guys,

Cuz whenever I do see

A photo of Woody Allen

Standing beside Soon-Yi -




 He starts to look like someone else

Some other kind of joker:

We wonder why she isn't fooled,

Cuz Woody ain't no smoker.




And when he plays at Michael's Pub

to get his musical kicks,

He goes through lots of clarinets

Cuz he EATS the liquorice sticks.




Although he needs his analyst

To hear his angst, and moan

He locks his door, so Woody leaves

A message on the phone.




This must go back a long long way


Cuz it looks like Diane Keaton:


We don't know why the goat is there,


Or why it isn't bleatin'.



But this-here's weird, it's way, WAY weird

A science project skewed:

If these two fused like Brundlefly,

They'd be very smart: but screwed.

 
 

Thursday, July 12, 2012

SOLVED: the mystery of Woody and Harold!




Really, I don't know where this photo came from. Maybe it's Woody's Uncle Hymen or something. But whoever this is, he seems to combine some of the best-known traits we've come to love in both of our favorite comedians. I will say, however, that the terror Harold expresses when his hair stands on end (which, by the way, it really did: they jolted him with a live wire for a few seconds, for as long as he could stand it) is somewhat muted in this shot. In fact, it looks like this person might be telling a long story about how his mother used to put the boiled chicken through the deflavorizing machine.

Woody Allen: Harold Lloyd's bastard son?




This one is so weird, I can hardly believe what I'm seeing in front of my gritchy little eyes.

I've been getting over some vicious bug I caught in San Francisco (where I left my heart, not to mention my wallet). It has its barbed hooks into my immune system, so that nearly four weeks later I feel almost as lousy as I did at the start.




So I haven't been blogging very much. But I stumbled on something that I think is both cool, and very very strange.

I don't know what movie this was taken from: Harold still has an intact right hand (which was blown apart in a freak accident in 1919), so it must be a very early one. Certainly not The Freshman, though that headgear doesn't look like any football helmet I ever saw.




The robot from Sleeper is wearing some sort of a colander on his head without too many holes in it, but still. The whiteface, the dark frames. . . even the tux, coz Harold was often dressed up in his movies.

Like this:




Can you imagine Woody Allen without his glasses? Ditto Harold, who called himself the Glass Character because the glasses were crucial to the development of his movie persona.

But the resemblance runs deeper than that.







If it weren't for his Gentile-ity, I'd say Harold looked like Woody's uncle or something. Who'd a thunk it?



















Okayfine, let's acknowledge that from the very beginning Harold had leading-man good looks with a sort of Barrymore profile (and a chin that would later help Gregory Peck make it in Hollywood. Not to mention Jon Hamm.) But lots of girls and women have lusted after Woody, at least until the Mia Farrow debacle which kind of turned the whole thing upside-down.


               




There's something sort of disturbing about both these photos. Harold Lloyd telegraphed his emotions chiefly through his eyes, which were not obscured but magnified by those magic glasses. At times, it was as if you were looking right down into the depths of his soul, and it wasn't a very happy place. I won't even comment on Woody, who has made an industry of his existential despair.














Yes. On the set, there is a certain sense of being in charge which seems totally at odds with the nerdy characters they portray on film.






Is it such a stretch? Maybe not, though facially they aren't all that similar. I always thought Woody Allen resembled a pastrami sandwich on Russian black bread with mustard dripping out the sides. Lloyd is more like a Maserati. (It's my blog and I'll mix my metaphors if I want to.)





Speaking of hybrids. . .cross a red-headed Jew with a famous comic Gentile, and what do you get? Woody, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your Mom had a naughty little secret.