I want to head back to one more video from the Wasn't That a Time documentary on The Weavers reuntion.  As I mentioned, the film is more than just a concert film and one of the treats is watching the rehearsals that leads up to the show at Carnegie Hall, and this is one of the highlights from the movie.

It begins with singer/songwriter Holly Near talking about what the Weavers and in particular Ronnie Gilbert meant to her as an inspiration to her career, and then we see some of the behind-the-scenes work of Gilbert taking the lead on a soaring song.  It's a really nice moment, but what it all leads to is special -- when Near and Gilbert sit down to talk and by chance eventually begin an impromptu duet of one of Near's moving songs, which takes them both by surprise 

Last Friday, I was planning to embed this next video today, another clip from the documentary about The Weavers 1980 reunion, Wasn't That a Time. But when the news pummeled the country, I figured it best to put off and find something more appropriate.  But as I was searching around, I realized something and checked the video out again.  And as I watched Lee Hay's narration, putting the career of the group in context through bad times and good -- and then watched as his words led into their traditional closing number at concerts, Leadbelly's "Goodnight, Irene," at the end of an evening of survival and triumph, I realized that it was, in fact, the right thing to post after all.

Two things stand out.  One, as I've mentioned, the unique sound of the applause from that Carnegie Hall audience, not just rousing cheers, but mixed with deep affection and profound admiration for this group surviving with such strength after 30 years, creating a sound of applause like I've never quite heard before.  And the other is the affection the group itself has for Lee Hays. 

And related to all this, I love the audience's reaction when Hays sings his verse.
​

As I've mentioned the past couple days, though the perception may be that the film Wasn't That a Time was just a concert film of The Weavers' historic 1980 reunion at Carnegie Hall, in truth it is a full-fledged documentary about everything leading up to that and a look at their career, along with appearances by Peter, Paul & Mary, Arlo Guthrie, Holly Near, Don McLean and others.  I had embedded video of that concert yesterday and was going to add another today, but then realized that that would just reinforce the erroneous perception.  So, instead, here's a promotional clip that PBS put together when they aired the documentary, directed by Jim Brown.

It all began at a family picnic where the four members of The Weavers -- Pete Seeger, Fred Hellerman, Ronnie Gilbert and Lee Hays -- got together and performed for the first time since they'd broken up in the 1950s after having been Blacklisted.  Happily, a camera was present, and the footage here is of that very picnic when they picked up their instruments and voices just for the sake of celebration.  

Much of the film follows their trying to decide whether to pursue things farther and actually have a reunion performance at Carnegie Hall, where they'd given a famous concert in 1957.  They talk about it, try some things out, rehearse, and decide they can pull it off, and the camera captures it all.  And this wonderful segment has some of that.  Surprisingly, my favorite part is not the music itself, terrific as it is, but the looks of beatific joy on the faces of the family members and friends realizing that they're hearing this glorious music come out of these four people, having heard about it all these decades and listened to records, and known about the Blacklist causing the group to separate, but now finally getting the chance to actually experience all four together for the first time in their lives.  And knowing how meaningful this is to their "Weaver" relative.  Up there, too, is the reaction of The Weavers themselves when they finish their first song -- most notably Ronnie Gilbert, as she talks to the camera about her uncertainty and giddiness of it all.  And the piece then ends up at the Carnegie Hall concert.  It's all tied together by Lee Hay's affectionate, humorous and pointed narration, which he both wrote and delivers.

To keep repeating myself, it's a great documentary.  It's about survival and triumph, filled with great music.  And oozing joyful passion through, which is particularly clear in the final shot here of the Carnegie audience.  Check the film out, it's available on Netflix.

As I mentioned yesterday when posting those five featurette films of The Weavers made in 1951, I would be posting a few clips from a tremendous documentary about them and their reunion concert that was made 30 years later, in 1981, Wasn't That a Time.

This is an absolutely tremendous film.  If it was just a concert film alone it would be great.  But it's much more than that, working on three levels.  It begins with The Weavers reuniting for a family-and-friends picnic the year before, and it goes so well, that they start talking about maybe doing a reunion concert at Carnegie Hall.  (Following in the footsteps of their famous Carnegie Hall show in 1957.)  And we see all the rehearsals as they try to figure out if it will work out.  It's as fascinating and fun as the final concert itself.  (And indeed they are in good voice.)  And there is also a great deal on the history of The Weavers, putting this reunion and that final concert in important and emotional context.  And then of course there's that concert.

By the way, when the reunion concert was announced for its one-night only performance, the ticket response was so immediate that they added a second concert.

As I wrote, if you don't know of The Weavers, they were a wildly popular folk music group in the 1950s whose outspoken support for labor issues and unions and such got them Blacklisted.  They eventually split and went off to their own careers.  Pete Seeger clearly had the most success, though the others -- Fred Hellerman, Ronnie Gilbert and Lee Hays -- didn't fade away.  Indeed, the documentary deals with all their post-Weaver careers.  Hellerman became a successful record producer, Gilbert had a career stage acting, and Hays recorded four children's albums with a group The Babysitters, one member of whom was Alan Arkin.

I can't recommend Wasn't That a Time highly enough, most especially if you're a fan of The Weavers, but also if you like folk music.  And honestly, even if you're not someone who listens much to folk music this is still a really wonderful documentary, period, about history, survival and triumph.  I saw it in a theater when it was initially released and was boggled when it didn't get an Oscar nomination.  I don't know if it didn't qualify for some reason, or if they missed deadlines or if not enough people simply liked it as much as I did -- or what?  I truly don't think it's the "not enough people" reason, though.  It subsequently was shown on PBS and was so popular that they now repeat it periodically during Pledge Drive time, and even spawned a sort of sequel, Isn't This a Time?, focusing on a tribute concerto to Harold Levanthal, the legendary manager of The Weavers and other folk artists.  (And when I say legendary...there is no hyperbole involved.  I mean it.  He managed The Weavers, Woody Guthrie, Tom Paxton, Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Theodore Bikel and Peter, Paul & Mary, and others.  That's legendary.)  So, why it wasn't even nominated for an Oscar, I have no idea.  I've recommended it to many, and the response has pretty much consistently been, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"  It's available on Netflix, and probably Amazon Prime...so get it!

To give further credit, the director of the documentary is Jim Brown.  He made that follow-up documentary I mentioned, Isn't This a Time? and also a documentary on Pete Seeger, The Power of Song,  as well as a great  documentary a year ago, 50 Years with Peter, Paul & Mary, all of which I believed aired on PBS.  

A few things to mention.  As I noted yesterday, there is one particularly fascinating contrast between the 1951 films and this documentary.  When you watch the featurettes, the group's bass Lee Hays comes across as so wooden you swear he wishes he were anywhere else.  But in the documentary, he's hilarious.  He wrote the script to the film, provides the narration, and is the emcee of sorts at the reunion concert.  It's a revelation to discover how hilarious he is.  Sardonic humor, to be sure, but really funny.  And I should add he was a prolific songwriter.  Among the many songs he either wrote or co-wrote are "If I Had a Hammer," "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" and the title song of this documentary, "Wasn't That a Time

His appearance is also very touching, making his humor all the more moving.  That's because as he makes clear, he had diabetes, and as a result had both of his legs amputated.  He's in a wheelchair the whole film, and it's handled with great grace and high spirit.  The affection all The Weavers have for one another is pronounced, but their affection for Lee Hays stands out.  (Be sure to watch the faces of the other three as they listen to Hays talking with the audience -- not just filled with affection, but even surprised by some of his quips and breaking into laughs.)

For context in this clip, it's also important to know that the Carnegie Hall reunion concert took place in 1980, not terribly long after Ronald Reagan took office as president.  There are references to this throughout the film that are clear, but not in this clip.

Also, what's fascinating is the applause and cheers of that reunion audience.  It's like none I've heard.  Loud, to be sure.  But it is interlaced with affectionate passion, as everyone there completely understands the meaning of these four legends reuniting after having their careers and lives torn apart by the Blacklist.  I almost love listening to this unique audience reaction as much as anything, 

So, here's a clip -- but again, get the full documentary.  This though at least will give a touch of how rich the concert portion of it is.  And I'll have a few more clips.

But for starters, this is the opening song of that reunion.
​

For all the folksinger groups that exploded on the music scene in the 1960s, the granddaddy of them all was The Weavers, which was massively successful the decade before, culminating in a famous concert at Carnegie Hall.  Pete Seeger was the best-known and the only one to have a solo career later (and renowned at that), but the others were integral and kept working, as well -- Fred Hellerman on guitar, Ronnie Gilbert (who many women in folk music later credited with showing them it was okay to throw back their heads and belt) and bass Lee Hays.

The problem for the group came as a result of its era, coming during the period of Joseph McCarthy and the HUAC hearings in Congress, as well as Blacklist.  Being on the vanguard of protest music and labor union rights, the Weavers got hit hard and ultimately were Blacklisted.  They broke up and went off to their own careers.  Famous as Seeger was, he couldn't get on national television (though had a local show in New York) until the Smothers Brothers invited him on in 1967.  And even there, he was surrounded by controversy, as his protest song, "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy," was cut by CBS censor.  A few months later, though, in February 25, 1968, the network relented and broadcast the song.

Happily, The Weavers reunited briefly in 1980 and a joyous documentary was released the next year about it, Wasn't That a Time, an utterly uplifting tribute to survival.  I found some clips from that and will post them in the coming days, but for now I thought it would be even better to show this video which presents the The Weavers in their prime. 

It's actually five videos, edited together.  Back in 1951, the group was popular enough to film a series of movie featurettes.  And this is all of them.  It's pretty stilted, as far as filming goes -- I've love the hand-slapping during "Tzena, Tzena, Tzena" -- but the musicianship is a treat.

How early is this?  During this "Tzena" number, they refer to the "new country of Israel."

Odd too is that, stilted as the whole group is on film (or perhaps "formal" might be the better description), they're comparatively lively in relation to Lee Hays who borders on wooden, looking almost as if he'd rather be anywhere but there, perhaps back at the office working on accounts.  I don't mention this as a slight, but for a bizarre contrast with him.  When you see those upcoming clips from the 1981 documentary, not only is Hays credited with writing the lively and thoroughly entertaining narrative of the film, but he's a total hoot, really the sardonic comic center of the group as he serves as basically the concert's very witty and informative emcee.  (I should note that along with Seeger, Hayes was the prolific song-writer of group, most famously co-writing, "If I Had a Hammer" and many others.)  I should not, too, in advance, that the documentary is far more than a recording of the reunion concert but that's only the culmination, as the film begins at a family picnic a year earlier with the old friends get together and perform a bit, which becomes the germ of an idea, that then builds through the rehearsals, the story of their lives, and finally the triumphant concert back in Carnegie Hall.

But that's 30 years ahead.  For now, here are The Weavers when they topped the music world.
​

Last night, I watched a wonderful little film on DVD that was released earlier this year, Wakefield.  It stars Bryan Cranston and Jennifer Garner, based on a fascinating short story by E.L. Doctorow (who wrote Ragtime and Billy Bathgate).

Cranston is really the core of the story though and he gives a gem of a performance.  Basically it’s about a man having what could best be described as a massive midlife crisis and runs away from his family – except he hides in the attic of their coach house garage and watches his wife and two kids from there.  (There’s more, but that’s the focus of the story, told entirely from his perspective.)

To give full credit to Garner, she gives a very good performance as her character has to range from anger at her husband not getting back to her, concern at his disappearance, the challenge of having to take new responsibility for the family, deciding whether to move on with her life and more, -- most of it done in a sort of "pantomime" since Cranston can't hear much of what she's saying.  Though Cranston still is the omnipresence in everything.

A major challenge of the film is to take such an unbelievable premise -- a husband living in the family's garage for such a long period and not only not being discovered, but simply surviving -- and make us accept it.  And the film pulls it off, coming up with a thoughtful, well-crafted development.  I'm sure this was a hurdle in the Doctorow short story, as well, although in that literary form so much is left to the reader's imagination that I suspect a great deal of the gaps are filled in.  A movie is more literal, so the demands of making this "real" are likely higher.  And that makes it all the more impressive how successful the effort is.

The movie was written & directed by Robin Swicord who wrote the screenplays for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Matilda, Memoirs of a Geisha, and Little Women, among others, and both wrote and directed The Jane Austen Book Club.  (She also wrote a charming little film, Shag, that oddly enough I wrote the presskit for back in my dark days in PR.)

By the way, among her other credits, she co-produced Matilda, Little Women and the actress (and writer) Zoe Kazan.

Because of the psychologically claustrophobic nature of the story -- even though a lot of it does not take place in the garage attic -- this is a difficult film to capture properly in a trailer.  But I thought they did a solid job, given the inherent hurdles.

This is decidedly off-beat, but fascinating.  It's a parody music video from India.

From what I've read, Kangana Ranaut is one of the leading actresses in the Bollywood movie industry.  And AIB (short of All India Bakchod) is a popular comedy troupe.  Together they teamed up for what they've called "The Bollywood Diva Song."

As you may know -- or not -- movies made in Bollywood are know for having big musical productions that break out for no apparent reason.  (One of my favorite Indian movies, Lagaan, which was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Oscar in 2001 is a wonderfully fun and dramatic epic story during the days of English rule, that's a sort of cross between Romeo and Juliet and Rocky.  But even it too has a couple of these lavish musical numbers -- for no apparent reason.)

Basically, "The Bollywood Diva Song" is done in that style, preceded by a scene that sets up it, and is a pretty blunt and scathing indictment of sexism in the Bollywood Industry.  It's all cheery with smiles all around -- but the lyrics are not only outspoken, but even a bit crude and scatological in part.  Making this all the more shocking is how prurient Indian films are, with (as I recall) men and women not even being allowed to kiss on screen. So, when you hear words like, "...because I have a vagina," I can only imagine the response back in India, and wonder if there's been any backlash to Kangana Ranaut -- or if's been applauded. 

My suggestion is to click on the CC button at the bottom of the media player for Close Captioning.  For some seasons, a little bit of the video is already captioned in English, so there will be an overlap of English on English for parts of the song, but most of it isn't, so it's best to leave it on and just accept the "double-English" for that section.

It's Talk Like a Pirate Day once again, and as always that gets me to think about the quite-wonderful video I've posted here before, but not for several years, Ahaarrrr.  Today seems the ideal day to bring it back.

This is one of my favorite videos I've ever tracked down.  It's a little British film, 13-minutes long, which I came across back in 2010 and have been passing it around since -- mostly to friends of my who do voice-over work, on either side of the microphone.  Oh, boy howdy, do they ever empathize with it...

I don't know much about its history or the wonderful creative mind behind it, Jonathan Kydd, who wrote and stars in the short film (as both the voiceover artist and the director!).  But it did win the (Mid Ulster) Critics choice at the DIY Festival LA.  As it happens, I know very little about that festival -- other than that sentence I just typed. 

I do see on the iMDB that Mr. Kydd deservedly has had a long career with a great many acting credits -- not shockingly, most over the past 20 years in voiceover work, notably eight Harry Potter video games, as well as the Toy Story That Time Forgot video.  And for the animated series, The Adventures of Paddington Bear, he provided the voice of Paddington.  But yes, mixed in among that and especially before getting involved with voiceover acting, he has also done a good deal of live-action, on-camera TV work.

As the description below says, this is indeed the voice over session from hell.  

I've mentioned my friend Myles Berkowitz here occasionally over time.  He's a terrific guy and unique.  Among other things, he has a political philosophy that he likes to say is "libertarian," but he's wrong since it's like no libertarian known to mankind. It's a combination of liberal libertarian, conservative libertarian, liberal, and some positions that don't follow known-standards, along with on occasion even a little-discovered corner of conservative.  I've never heard a similar political philosophy.  I tell him he is a Mylesist, because that's the only way to describe it.  

This isn't about politics, though.  Among Myles' background, I should note is that he attended Wharton School of Management.  And unlike Trump, a) got in on his grades, b) went there the full two years, c) didn't transfer in halfway through, and d) actually did very well.  (Still, it's fun to annoy Myles when appropriate by saying, "Oh, like Trump?")  I believe he was president of his class, but I've never quite understood a universe where this could happen.  I do know that one of his professors there was William Kristol -- yes, that William Kristol.  And to this day, it galls Myles that Kristol only gave him a B on a paper, and that's just because he went into the office to argue it up from a lower grade.  (The story doesn't end there.  Several years later, Myles was walking through New York when he saw the office building where he knew William Kristol's father worked -- Irving Kristol was the managing editor of Commentary magazine and is considered the "godfather" of neoconservatism.  And Myles went to Irving Kristol's office.  Why?  To tell him about his son giving Myles a B on that paper, and complaining about it.  No, really.)

I told you, he's unique.  I don't lie to you folks.

But this isn't about college degrees.  In recent years, Myles was the co-founder of a diet product, Lifesize, which I wrote about here.  The company is still in its start-up stage, though it got a terrific article in the New York Times, which my piece links to, as well, for those interested in reading about such things.

But this isn't about Lifesize either.  That's because before this Myles had a career in movies and television.  He began as an actor, and then morphed into a writer, and then director.  In fact, he made an absolutely wonderful fake-documentary for Fox Searchlight in 1998 called 20 Dates.  I don't call it a mockumentary, because those are films done in a documentary style, but you know they're fake.  20 Dates looks and feels like an actual documentary, and to this day most people who've seen it swear that it is one.  And the odd thing is some actually is, but 92% is a structured story.  There's no script, but an outline, so that part is ad-libbed, sort of like what Larry David later did with Curb Your Enthusiasm -- though that's clearly a work of fiction.  As I said, 20 Dates looks like an actual documentary.  

(The plot of the film is that a character named Myles Berkowitz has convinced a producer, Elie Samaha, that he should fund a movie documentary about Myles trying to find true love by going on 20 dates.  And he'll film all of this for a movie.  It's worth noting that  Elie Samaha is the film's actual producer and was married at the time to actress Tia Carrere.  The phone conversations you hear in the movie with Elie often yelling at Myles about the film and budget and casting are real.  And so are a couple of the dates Myles goes on.  And so too are the on-camera interviews with Myles' friends who are prompted to be honest about describing Myles -- and they're brutally and hilariously so.  But all that takes up only about 8% of the movie.  The rest of the film is fiction.  Including the scenes with Elie's wife, Tia Carrere.  And actress Julie McCullough playing herself. (From the series, Growing Pains, and most recently the Sharknado TV films.)  That's why it's so difficult for people to grasp that the movie isn't a real documentary.  It's that well-done, with everything blended together.  Alas, for reasons unknown to man, Fox Searchlight has never put it on DVD.  Though they did have a VHS release at the time.  And even put out a soundtrack.)

For goodness sake, Fox Searchlight -- put this out on DVD already!!

Oh, and by the way, this isn't about 20 Dates either.  Well, not exactly, but tangentially.  However, all this background is necessary to put the proper perspective on what it's all actually about.  And in the end, it's also to show you that as brash, annoying and funny as Myles Berkowitz is, he's also incredibly thoughtful, warm and charming.

About a month ago, Myles got a letter from a guy who'd tracked him down.  The fellow was about to celebrate his first anniversary, and his wife's very favorite movie in the world was...20 Dates.  She and her sister would watch it relentlessly.  (She had a VHS copy.)  And the guy decided for their first anniversary he wanted to do something special related to his wife's most-favorite movie in the entire world.

And what that was is, after tracking down Myles, he asked if Myles would write something special to her -- on paper, since the first anniversary is paper.  Now, mind you, he could have asked for a signed photograph.  Or a signed poster.  Both paper.  But no, he asked the filmmaker to write something to his wife that would be meaningful for their first anniversary.  Most filmmakers would probably answer, "That's very nice of you to ask, but I write for a living and get paid for it.  But I'm happy to sign a 8x10 glossy for you."  Or "Fine, you write something out for me, and I'll handwrite a copy and sign it."  Or perhaps, "Get lost."  But Myles being Myles said, "Okay."

I told you he was unique.

Myles said the guy was pretty unrelenting about it and sort of pushy.  "But how could I turn him down?  That's pretty much how I am, too, and the character in the movie."  So, it just seemed too natural to him.

And here is what he wrote.  It's awfully good.  The couple's anniversary, by the way, was this past Sunday.  Myles asked me to wait until after it passed before I posted this.

So, here you are --


​Dear Melinda (not her real name),

Congratulations on your one-year anniversary.  This being your paper anniversary, I did something I haven’t done in many years – I went to the Post Office and mailed a letter. 
 
I’m just grateful this isn’t your 11th anniversary because it is almost impossible to write on steel, and I would have had to use a lot more stamps to mail that letter.
 
Your husband tells me that you and your sister Toni used to watch “20 Dates” over and over again when you were growing up.  So I have one question for you ladies –
 
Why have you stopped? 
 
Now while I don’t know if Toni learned anything from my movie, apparently you have.  You seem to have found, dated and married a great guy.
 
Matt asked me to maybe give you some wisdom on your anniversary.  The problem is…”20 Dates” is about dating, not marriage.  And while I don’t know if it had a lot of good advice about dating, I know it was very inspirational to a lot of couples. 
 
I don’t mean to brag, but I can’t tell you how many women have come up to me and thanked me for making the movie over the years because, they said, after watching me they realized that the guy they were with wasn’t so bad after all.
 
Actually, maybe you should be the one giving marriage advice because while I don’t know Matt for longer than a brief phone conversation, the fact that he knew you liked my movie, took the time to think about something clever to give you for your first anniversary, and then actually reached out to me speaks volume.  Just to make sure you get it –
 
The man thinks about you without you knowing it, and tries to make you happy.  Which perhaps is the secret of a joyous and long marriage right there.
 
I hope if you try to do something like this for his birthday that his favorite movie isn’t something like “Casablanca,” because, you know, they’re all dead by now so no one will be sending letters.
 
I also hope, and I want you to promise me, that on your 20th Anniversary you include me in your celebration then too.  But I’m telling you right now, and to be very clear, I will be sending you some china…not sending you, and Matt and Matt Jr. to China.
 
Congratulations!
 
Myles Berkowitz