This week's contestant is Perry Smith from Schenectady, NY. The hidden is song is one of those that was on the tip of my tongue -- I could hear it, and it had a sense of familiarity to me, but I just couldn't place it. It turns out to be very well-known, but is so wonderfully well-hidden. The hidden composer style is one of those where it's clear the era, and there are a few composers who it could be -- but it's just not an area I know well enough to decide which one it is. And so, I didn't get it. It's a tough one, but the challenge is enjoyable.
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With the Academy Award ceremonies on Sunday, it’s always a good time to bring up Edward G. Robinson. Again. I wrote this piece in 2007, and honestly, the good fellow is deserving of attention every year at this time. So, I figured, what the heck and try to repeat it every year. It’s been long enough – in many ways, as you’ll see. There’s a point to all this, by the way. And a remarkable one. Trust me. Today, there are many people who won’t recognize the name of Edward G. Robinson. Of course, countless others will break into smiles and say, “Ahhhhh…” Almost no one, however, would not recognize his face. (If a man could look like a bulldog with a scowl, that’s Edward G. Robinson.) For those who can’t immediately put the name with the face, he was one of the great actors in Hollywood history – one of the few who succeeded as both a supporting actor and leading man.
This is not hyperbole. Look his credits up on IMDb here. Give yourself time, though, because there are 112 of them, ranging from 1916 until 1979. In a profession where making it to the 10-year mark is an achievement, Edward G. Robinson’s longevity is at a level even dreamers just dream about. But that’s just quantity. It’s quality we’re talking about here. Take a look at what some of those 112 credits are. “Little Caesar,” “Double Indemnity,” “Key Largo,” “The Ten Commandments,” “The Sea Wolf.“ (As I said, there is a point to all this. It’s coming in a moment.) Along with James Cagney, he was the ultimate movie gangster. His “Little Caesar” defined Robinson’s lasting reputation and the genre. And he added to it with “Brother Orchid,” “The Little Giant” and more. But he regularly spoofed his gangster image in such comic joys as “Larceny, Inc.,” “A Slight Case of Murder” and “Robin and the 7 Hoods.” However, as easy as it would have been to typecast that mug as a mobster, Edward G. Robinson had wide-ranging versatility – indeed, often playing the very opposite. Witness his moving, gentle portrayals as the discoverer of the cure for syphilis in “Dr. Ehrlich’s Magic Bullet” and the founder of the renowned news agency in “A Dispatch from Reuters” – both remarkably made the very same year, 1940. (Oops, sorry, I used “remarkably” too early: because in 1940, he also made the famous “Brother Orchid.”) He made comedies like “A Hole in Head” and “My Geisha.” And add in such classics as Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons,” “The Stranger” for Orson Welles and “The Woman in the Window” directed by Fritz Lang. Okay, hold on, the point is almost here. Edward G. Robinson’s career started as a young man of 23, yet he was still playing substantial roles into his 80s, when he co-starred in “Soylent Green” and also made “The Cincinnati Kid,” facing down Steve McQueen. And now we’ve gotten to the point. Throughout all of this, a legendary, admired and phenomenally-successful 63 years and 112 credits, the number of Academy Awards that Edward G. Robinson won was …zero. But that’s not the point. The point is that through his entire career, for all of his many celebrated gems – gangster classics, wrenching drama, high comedy and tender character portrayals – the number of Oscar nominations that Edward G. Robinson received was… Zero. None. Nada. Zippo. Zilch. Keep in mind that in that one aforementioned year, 1940, he made three classics – and didn’t even get a nomination. Keep in mind that his performance in “Little Caesar” was so indelible that, 39 years later, the U.S. government’s federal racketeering RICO Act, was named for his character. Rico. Keep in mind that “The 10 Commandments” was nominated for the Oscar as best picture and got seven nominations, but none for Robinson. “Double Indemnity” was nominated for best picture, too, but not Robinson. “Five Star Final” also got a best picture Oscar nomination, but Edward G. Robinson did not. Was it all an unfathomable oversight? It certainly appears so, but in any given year there may well have been five other performances that people simply thought even better. It’s the luck of the draw. Over and over and over again. Maybe. But of course, in the end, it’s just an award. Given a choice, would anyone prefer a solitary nomination or admired 63-year career? Watch any of the movies above to see how wonderful Edward G. Robinson was. But for a crash course in just a single movie, you might instead try one his lesser-known (but tremendously underrated) films, “The Whole Town’s Talking.” How underrated? Robinson and Jean Arthur star. It’s directed by John Ford. And written by Robert Riskin (“It Happened One Night,” “Mr. Deeds Comes to Town”) and Jo Swerling ("Guys and Dolls," "The Pride of the Yankees"). TV Guide.com gives it five stars. iMDB gives it 7.3 out of 10. That this is one of Edward G. Robinson’s lesser-known films speaks volumes. And in it, you see the full range of Robinson, because he plays a dual role – a gangster and a sweet, shy clerk who gets mistaken for the mobster and is at first arrested, but later kidnapped by the killer to throw off the police. The movie is often hilarious, yet has a dark side as the painfully shy clerk begins to deal with a sense of power for the first time in his life when he’s thought to be dangerous. The movie is a little-known treat, but in it you get to see Edward G. Robinson in almost every phase of his talent. Gangster, milquetoast, high comedy and dark psychological drama. Oh. And he didn’t get nominated for it. UPDATE: But there’s at least a nice P.S. At the very end of his life, Edward G. Robinson did finally get an honorary Oscar, although he died two months before the presentation. (Hey, nothing like waiting until the last minute to honor the guy, ya think?) Happily, he was at least aware of the honor. It was in recognition of having "achieved greatness as a player, a patron of the arts, and a dedicated citizen ... in sum, a Renaissance man." The award was accepted by his widow Jane Robinson I went to the Magic Castle for lunch today with Mark Evanier, who's been a member there for almost 35 years. They have a pretty nice buffet, and yes, we made our food disappear. It felt like going to a family reunion at the Evanier household, though, since about every third person there knew him and came by to say hello. Mark even knew the magician we went to see, and had gotten him on the show That's Incredible years before, when Mark worked on the show. Actually, the performer Richard Turner isn't precisely a magician, but is really more a self-described card shark. (He says in his act, “Some people think they can learn how to do this by practicing for an easy 5 to 10…years. You can’t. I’ve been doing this for 50 years, since I was a little kid.” He then goes on to explain that he initially practiced for 20 hours a day (okay, that's what he says) seven days a week for 26 years. And adds, "No, I wasn't in prison." But even if that's an exaggeration, you have to think it's not by much, because it shows. He's quite stunning. And it's all the more stunning when you know that he's legally blind. There might be an occasional "trick" in his arsenal, but mostly it's just a display of card manipulation and a lot of unearthly dexterityl, not illusion. The room was packed (as was the show before us), and everyone are magicians (or their guests, like me), because Mark says that everyone at the Magic Castle are in awe of him. He always calls two women from the audience to sit on either side of the table and help during the act – and if there had been members of the National Organization of Women there in the audience, they would have left running out of the room in embarrassment. They were among the stupidest people you could want. One of them had what seemed to be difficulty adding up the numbers on the cards whenever there was a Blackjack trick. And the other never quite grasped the concept of shuffling and handing over cards to him. And it seemed like it wasn't until about three-quarters of the way through that she figured but -- maybe -- that he was blind. (All the times he asked, "Are the cards face-up or not?" apparently wasn't a giveaway...) But still, the performance was remarkable. Here’s a video of him, oddly enough as it happens, several years ago at the Magic Castle. If you've read Hilary Mantel's two Booker Prize-winning novels, Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, about the relationship between Thomas Cromwell, Cardinal Woolsey and King Henry VIII, you might appreciate knowing that they've been turned in to a six-hour mini-series by the BBC and will be shown on PBS. All the better, they premiere in less than two months, on April 5, running as part of Masterpiece Classic on Sunday nights.
It's an impressive cast. Mark Rylance, a two-time Tony Award-winner for Best Actor in a Play, stars as Cromwell. You might recall Rylance from a couple of postings on these pages about his acceptance speeches, which are arguably the greatest, in an intentionally bizarre way, and funniest (for my taste) in the history of the Tonys. (You can see them here and here.) King Henry is played by Damian Lewis, from Band of Brothers and Homeland. And Cardinal Woolsey will be played by Jonathan Pryce, who starred on Broadway in the original production of Miss Saigon. I was also really pleased to see that one of my favorite, little-known actresses, Claire Foy, plays Anne Bolelyn. She's probably best-known to U.S. audiences in the great Emmy-winning Masterpiece Classic adaption of Dickens' Little Dorrit. PBS has an extended, 4-minute "First Look" of the production on their website, and it looks wonderful. Unfortunately, I can't embed it, but you can see it by clicking here. Well, here's another trio, following up on yesterday's Three Legends o' Jazz. This here is Julie Andrews, Robert Goulet, and Joel Grey, no mean slouches of their own when it comes to Broadway, performing a salute to Lerner and Loewe. It's quite good, though a bit odd. Julie Andrews, of course, is closely tied to the composers, with My Fair Lady and Camelot. Robert Goulet not only got his break in Camelot as Lancelot, but later toured in the show as King Arthur, and also starred on TV in a production of Brigadoon. And Joel Grey, he...well, hmmm, he really doesn't have any connection to Lerner and Loewe. He's a great Broadway performer, but he sort of stands out here -- and it's not just that he has no real connection to them, but they don't give him all that much to do. But the oddest thing about the video is that here, in a tribute to Lerner and Loewe, that includes Robert Goulet... they don't have him sing the song that made him a star. No "If Ever I Would Leave You." And it's not like they ran out of time and couldn't cram it in -- the number lasts for almost 15 minutes. But it's still a very good tribute medley. Just a bit odd. To many people -- to most, in fact -- February 19 is a day of no particular significance. To the remaining few of us, though, the concept of "Pitchers and catchers report" is of the highest joy and cause for holiday celebration.
From the last out of the World Series in October through the freezing cold, snowstorms, and bleakness of winter (even if you live in Southern California, it can still be bleak...), there is an emptiness that football and basketball can only dance on the edges to try and fill. But when pitchers and catchers report to their respective teams in Arizona and Florida for Spring Training, it's more telling than even Punxsutawney Phil for shining a light on the end of winter. The full teams won't arrive for another couple weeks with position players, and Spring Training games won't begin until March, but none of that is much matter. When the pitchers and catchers show up early to start getting in shape, we know that Opening Day is around the corner. And more importantly, we can start following baseball coverage in full. February 19 isn't reporting day for all teams, but this year it's the marker for 13 of them, and one is the beloved Chicago Cubs, so that's pretty much all that counts on these pages. By the way, the phrase in the title above might sound familiar to some of you, on the tip of your tongue, but just not quite able to place it. But a more limited few will recognize it from a speech given by the Shoeless Joe Jackson character in the movie, Field of Dreams, after his spirit returns to the ball field in Iowa. It comes after Ray Kinsella says to him, "It must be good to be playing again, hunh?" -- about having been banned from the game 70 years earlier. The ghostly spirit answers -- "Getting thrown out of baseball was like having part of me amputated. I've heard that old men wake up and scratch itchy legs that been dust for over fifty years. That was me. I'd wake up at night with the smell of the ball park in my nose, the cool of the grass on my feet. The thrill of the grass." But -- that's not actually where it's from. Field of Dreams is based on the novel, Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella. When Phil Robinson adapted the screenplay (he also directed the film), he threw the phrase in as an homage.to another book by Kinsella, a wonderful collection of short stories about baseball called...The Thrill of the Grass. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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