hollywood

The new artists coming through were very materialistic and Hollywood, not so engaged in communication.

In Hollywood today, it's cool for guys to wear nail polish and earrings in their lips and tongues. I don't get it.

There is no middle ground in Hollywood you're a failure or you're a success. That mentality is wild.

In Hollywood, normally things don't work out, and dreams are crushed.

Hollywood has always been a cage... a cage to catch our dreams.

What if it turns out there really are witches and vampires and werewolves living right here alongside us? After all, what better disguise could there be than to get your image enshrined in the culture of the mass media? Anything that's described in artistic terms and shown in the movies stops being frightening and mysterious. For real horror you need the spoken word, you need an old grandpa sitting on a bench, scaring the grandkids in the evening: 'And then the Master of the house came to him and said: "I won't let you go, I'll tie you up and bind you tight and you'll rot under the fallen branches!"' That's the way to make people wary of anomalous phenomena! Kids sense that, you know__t's no wonder they love telling stories about the Black Han and the Coffin on Wheels. But modern literature, and especially the movies, it all just dilutes that instinctive horror. How can you feel afraid of Dracula, if he's been killed a hundred times? How can you be afraid of aliens, if our guys always squelch them? Yes, Hollywood is the great luller of human vigilance. A toast__o the death of Hollywood, for depriving us of a healthy fear of the unknown!

In Hollywood, no one knows anything.

At the conclusion of Hollywood disaster movies and epics, time moves backward, piecing together like a jigsaw the elements that had come apart. The Titanic resumes its journey; Russell Crowe is reunited with his murdered wife and son. It's not a happy ending; it's a convention created for the purposes of an impossible sense of uplift at the end of death and tragedy: the happy beginning. Technology makes Hades unnecessary.

I won`t buy into the Hollywood thing...I want to be in good movies.

If there is one Christian left who holds out hope that a God honoring, biblically accurate, mainstream Hollywood movie will emerge, I have some advice for you_stop waiting, it__ not going to happen, move on. If you want authentic Scripture, read the Scripture.

Out of perverseness, I jumped on the subway and went down to a sound stage on Fourth Street to watch the shooting of Kay Doubleday's big strip scene in Mad Dog Coll, a gangster film that can still, to my embarrassment, be seen occasionally on late-night TV... Kay Doubleday was in my class at Lee Strasberg's; it was in the interest of art, I told myself, to watch her prance down a ramp, singing and stripping her heart out.

We have reached a censorship barrier in Infidelity, to our infinite disappointment. It won__ be Joan__ [Joan Crawford's] next picture and we are setting it aside awhile till we can think of a way of halfwitting halfwit Hayes and his legion of decency. Pictures needed cleaning up in 1932-33...but because they were suggestive and salacious. Of course the moralists now want to apply that to all strong themes__o the crop of the last two years is feeble and false, unless it deals with children.

No one likes to be typecast or stereotyped, especially actors. But who would know Esther Williams without a swimming pool, Bela Lugosi without a cape, or Elvis Presley without his guitar. Would we even care?

Still, I think Hardy's the most likely person in this theater to be snapped up by the studios." "But he can't act!" Norman protested. "Sure he can't act. Neither can Nelson Eddy, and he makes a living." "But Eddy can sing." "All right. So Hardy can't sing either. That makes him twice as attractive.

We didn't need sex. We had Tyrone Power.

Her first really great role, the one that cemented the __ean Arthur character,_ was as the wisecracking big-city reporter who eventually melts for country rube Gary Cooper in Frank Capra__ Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). It was the first of three terrific films for Capra: Jean played the down-to-earth daughter of an annoyingly wacky family in Capra__ rendition of Kaufman and Hart__ You Can__ Take It With You (1938), and she was another hard-boiled city gal won over by a starry-eyed yokel in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). __ean Arthur is my favorite actress,_ said Capra, who had successfully worked with Stanwyck, Colbert and Hepburn. _. . . push that neurotic girl . . . in front of the camera . . . and that whining mop would magically blossom into a warm, lovely, poised and confident actress._ Capra obviously recognized that Jean was often frustrated in her career choice.

The most interesting of the classic movie genres to me are the indigenous ones: the Western, which was born on the Frontier, the Gangster Film, which originated in the East Coast cities, and the Musical, which was spawned by Broadway. They remind me of jazz: they allowed for endless, increasingly complex, sometimes perverse variations. When these variations were played by the masters, they reflected the changing times; they gave you fascinating insights into American culture and the American psyche.

On Friday evening Martin and Mona went to the United Artists Theatre to see a film already being mentioned for the Academy award. It had three stars, ran a hundred and ten minutes, and bored them both to petrifaction. (In brief, the award was in the bag.)The Case of the Seven of Calvary