Stella-vision: Leo Stella's "Seems Like Old Times"

Very few cable-access shows can be watched again and again, and fewer still remain entertaining over a decade later. One of the ones that I can rewatch and am still thoroughly entertained by is Seems Like Old Times, the weekly lounge-piano spectacular that was on in the mid-1990s in Manhattan and starred the one and only Mr. Leo Stella. Leo is lost to the sands of time (if you’re out there, give a shout, Leo!), but his show lives on, thanks to those of us with VCRs who captured “the beauty and the splendor of the magnificence that is me” (as Leo would put it).

I have posted on YouTube a chunk of an episode in which Leo holds forth on an old friend of his who was being put in a home by a young social worker — right after he sings a sleepy and suggestive “Some Day My Prince Will Come”:



In another episode, Leo sang the song from the Broadway show Tenderloin that became a hit for Bobby Darin, “Artificial Flowers,” in classic lounge style:



On the same episode, Leo revealed the reason for his mock “street” attire when he performed an utterly mind-roasting rap version of the Noel Coward song “Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs. Worthington”:



And responded to a youthful heckler on the phone (I felt that the show went a bit downhill when he accepted phone calls from the audience) who would just chant, “Faggot, faggot, faggot!” Leo’s response to this young rapscallion was to serenade him in song:



I have more Leo to upload in the future. You won’t be seeing this kind of entertainment on the major networks anytime soon — but things would be a lot better if you did.

"W for... the Weather Report show": Deceased (Access) Artiste Clinton Freeman

Some public access shows can’t be described, they just have to be seen. Such was the case with The Weather Report, a show hosted and produced by one Clinton Freeman, whom I had been informed died a few months back. I offer this slice of his show on YouTube as an example of access at its most creative, humorous (intentional and otherwise), and definitely strangest.

What “Video Clint” (as he at one time referred to himself on the show) did on his show was to deconstruct newspapers and magazine pieces (articles, ads, illustrations) by pointing out common themes. He was particularly obsessed with weather maps and would discuss them in much detail on the show, referring to how their existence in said periodicals provided references to his show. He had several other preoccupations, which included among others Britpop bands (and his hero Morrissey), very beautiful supermodels, gorillas, and bananas. The last-mentioned I believe was an oblique reference to the famous Warhol cover of the first Velvet Underground LP — Clint was obsessed with Warhol and at times seemed to indicate on The Weather Report that Andy was the inspiration for the show.

Clint had done a number of cable-access shows here in Manhattan. His first, The Four Horsemen, was done with friends and was pretty hard to fathom for those who tuned in casually (the participants wore suits and animal masks and made bizarre pronouncements); the phrase “self-aware” would pretty much cover that show. He returned on his own with shows called Lovecats and The Chair (at least I think it was called “The Chair” — perhaps it was “Electric Chair,” which would, of course, be another Warholian citation). In any case, by 1996, the time when this clip was shot, Clint had his own little world of references going on. It was very unique stuff and provoked fascination, laughter, or boredom, or a mixture of the three. See if you experience any of those reactions:



For the year 2000, access producers (working, very obviously, with no budgets) were faced with a minor dilemma: how to commemorate the new millennium? I wanted to do something about the history of film, but settled for a three-episode history of the film noir. For his show, Clint did “the best rock shows of the 20th Century,” which were revealed to have been the rock shows he had attended and liked the most. He held up tickets from the gigs, recalled stories about them, and told us about the venues they took place in. I can’t imagine that kind of content occurring in any other format than cable access (although, of course, YouTube has fast usurped a lot of the strangeness that used to find a home solely on access). Here is Clint’s obit in the New York Times. RIP, Video Clint, your like will not be seen again!

The stars honor JFK: the pre-inaugural gala

I’ve already rhapsodized on this blog about my love of old variety shows. Well, since the rerun networks have no interest in letting us see these programs, which combined the very, very best and sometimes (often, in the later days) worst of American pop culture, and DVD collections do exist but they are few and far between, we have to turn to — where else? — YouTube.

Thus, I am happy to point you to a variety show that the American public got to see exactly once on NBC. The event was the pre-inaugural gala held before JFK took the oath of office, and was famously overseen by Frank Sinatra. The roster is loaded with A-list stars who wanted to honor the new, youthful president-elect.

The YT upload doesn’t list the guests in the order they appear, so here’s the actual order: Leonard Bernstein conducting, Ethel Merman, Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh (performing a pretty bad approximation of a George-and-Gracie skit), Nat King Cole, Jimmy Durante, Harry Belafonte (bringing the show firmly into the Sixties with a terrific rendition of “John Henry”), Milton Berle/Bill Dana (his name Jose Jimenez!), Frank Sinatra (doing a Gallagher and Sheen variant with Berle, whoa baby).

The show ends with a very long bit of “special material” (I’m betting Sammy Cahn was the lyricist) that introduces all these other stars whose bits were presumably clipped by NBC: Gene Kelly, Louis Prima and Keely Smith, Joey Bishop, Alan King, Pat Suzuki, and Ella Fitzgerald. Frederic March reads a speech by Lincoln at the end, followed by “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” sung by Helen Traubel (they left that in and cut out Lady Ella and Louis and Keely???) and a thank-you speech by JFK (with interesting jokes about how deeply in debt the Democratic Party was). It’s extremely strange to see a show co-hosted by Sinatra that doesn’t include a solo number by Frank.



One footnote on the event: some rather obvious absences are the other Rat Packers (although, as noted, Bishop participates in the closing number and Lawford can be seen in the audience laughing at the Bill Dana bit). The story goes that Sammy got a call from Frank saying that he shouldn’t be a part of the proceedings because he had a white wife at the time (Sammy had been booed at the Democratic convention when he came out to sing). Either Dean Martin was so outraged he wouldn’t participate in the show as an act of solidarity with Sam — or he just wanted to stay home that evenin’….

Thanks to pal Jay Hopkins for passing this on.

"And now, for a Special Comment..."

The swift and unexplained departure from MSNBC of Keith Olbermann last week is a major loss for those of us who were hooked on his program and, I would argue, for the TV audience in general, since I viewed Keith as a “corrective” to the fact-less, spiteful, and tunnel-visioned bunch on the Fox News Network.

His commentary-based Countdown was a pundit-laden show like the Fox shows and it had a clear political bias like the Fox shows, but it was predicated on facts, open to correction, and used Keith’s strong, often strident, commentaries to contextualize the news as well as help people in need — particularly those without healthcare, which continues to be our national tragedy and the way in which the U.S. is most like a third-world nation (run by fat, deliriously happy capitalists).

I can’t honestly say I’ve been moved by many news anchors or pundits ever, but the segment below of an episode-length show Keith did on the health care debate, and how important it is to Americans, moved me greatly (read: the *real * healthcare debate, the one to get nationalized medicine, the one that President Obama abandoned in order to play politics-as-usual, we’ll-amend-this-mess-later).

This editorial moved me not just because Keith was reflecting on his father’s imminent death, but because of his inclusion of a story about a baseball-card-collecting friend whose daughter was suffering in the ICU. I cringe when I am confronted by sentimental, Spielbergian art and entertainment, but this editorial touched me:



On the other side of the coin, I will readily admit that Keith has an in-your-face quality that is abrasive. I agree with a good deal of his stances, and so I didn’t find it to be “too much” — perhaps the only thing I thought was pretentious was his decision to close out each show with Edward R. Murrow’s signature “Good night, and good luck.” I can easily counterbalance this, though, with the fact that he has great taste in vintage comedy (Bob and Ray, Sid Caesar, the Goons) and worships the Pythons, Rod Serling, and Bill Hicks — can’t find much wrong with that.

So why is Keith now off the air? He had the highest-rated show on MSNBC, but he was “let go” last week for most likely one of two reasons (or both): a personal conflict with the heads of his network, which he had had in several of his previous high-profile jobs as a sportscaster; or the merger of NBC with Comcast empire. The merger was already seen as a possible threat to Keith’s freedom of speech on MSNBC late last year, when he was suspended for having contributed to the campaigns of three Democratic candidates (including Gabby Giffords). The heads of Comcast are “staunch GOP supporters,” and while each host on MSNBC (except Joe Scarborough) takes on the Republicans, Olbermann did so with a particular relish, focusing in particular on Fox News’ unabashed support for the party.

So it is assumed by both well-respected trade mags and bloggers who don’t care for Olbermann that he was edged off the air by the merger. What did we lose as an audience? A talking head who certainly displayed intelligence and verbal dexterity, but also a conscience, a willingness to admit when he was wrong, and an ongoing acknowledgement that President’s quixotic and ridiculous quest for bipartisanship wasn’t just a big disappointment to his “base,” but was ultimately dangerous and foolhardy.

Whatever the case may be, MSNBC was very willing to dispense with its highest-rated program. Some websites proclaim with assurance that the NBC-Comcast merger had nothing to do with the break and Keith left to create his own "media empire" a la Arianna Huffington, but then the question remains: why the “gag order”? If he left of his own volition, it’s highly doubtful the network would make him remain silent about it, if only to stifle the rumor that they bounced him.

So that leaves those of us Lefties who still watch television with three alternatives:

— the “harder Left” shows like Democracy Now and GRITtv, which dispense facts ignored by the MSM and also offer actual video journalism, but lack Olbermann’s sense of visible outrage (and acknowledgment that a little dash of entertainment is never a bad thing)
— the remaining MSNBC hosts, who will continue to espouse liberal beliefs, but will never be as openly challenging as Olbermann was. I can’t fault them for wanting to keep their jobs, and have already stated how much I love Rachel Maddow as a host (although: bring back Kent Jones!). And Chris Matthews’ adamant moments of disbelief are indeed wonderful. The Mediaite website (coincidentally run by ex-MSNBC host Dan Abrams!) hit the target, however, by noting that not only was Olbermann the most engaging/enraging host on the nework, his show was also just as the best show that MSNBC had, hands down
— The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. Those who want to perceive the political situation in a simplistic fashion go for this option. On the comedic level, both shows range from shticky to immaculately funny, but the “can’t we all just get along?” ideology espoused by the former (and playfully struck down by the latter) strikes me as extremely naïve, and also fascinatingly mirrors Obama’s hopeless longing for bipartisanship. The comedy is excellent, but the shows are not news or even news commentary, as the hosts readily admit in interviews (casting aside for a moment Jon Stewart’s “climatologist” remark to Maddow).

Thus, there is a big hole in my weekday viewing habits now that Keith is gone. I do not have a DVR, so for me television is either “preserve it” (something I will watch again or want to collect), catch it at the time it’s on, or miss it.

Whatever the reason for the break with MSNBC may be, I’m sure that Olberman will return, in one format or another. The chances of getting him back in prime-primetime are slim, but if CNN wanted a real reboot — and could honestly admit that Parker Spitzer (even the name, guys!) was a dire idea — perhaps there could be a really viable alternative to the agony of Fox News once more….

In the meantime, there are indeed the clips from the past. First, the moment I knew I loved Keith’s way of slamming public figures, a “Special Comment” about Rudolph Guiliani, the horrific and repellent ex-Mayor of New York City:



The most famous Special Comment found Keith telling Bush to “shut the hell up!” Seen as “too much, too far” by many liberals, it really was needed. Someone needs to be saying these things to the Right:



To show that Olbermann was indeed fair-minded and was willing to call “our guy" on the carpet for slowly sacrificing important points, a commentary about one of the first times Obama did something to mitigate the atrocities done by the last administration (which earned him no “brownie points” among the Repubs):



To end on a humorous note: Although the best-seen impression of Keith was the one Ben Affleck did on SNL, this gentleman does a quieter, more perfect rendtion of the outraged Special Comment Keith:

"I... hate... servants!": Deceased Artiste Susannah York

I was surprised to see that Susannah York was 72 when she died last week, but that was merely my mind having frozen her into her 20s/30s, since that was the age she was at when she made the films that have made the greatest impression on me. Her obits noted that her cute, short-haired blonde looks “fell out of favor” in British cinema come the late Seventies, and she was quite eager to play character parts in her later years. She remained a trooper, doing roles in movies, on British television, and (extensively) on the stage, including a one-woman show in which she incarnated the women of Shakespeare.

She was a top-notch actress, but began, yes, as a sex-kitten type in British film. She made her first big impression on American audiences in Tony Richardson’s superb Tom Jones (1963), where she shared flirtation scenes with the young and equally idyllic-looking Albert Finney:



She had earlier (in 1962) appeared in John Huston’s challenging and disturbing portrait of the father of psychoanalysis, Freud with Montgomery Clift. The whole film is available on YouTube, and it’s definitely one of Huston’s more ambitious pictures:



I love “Sixties movies” (read: transgressive heroes/heroines, parties, psychedelia, open or ambiguous endings), but will confess I’ve never seen Kaleidoscope (1966) and Duffy (1968), both of which feature York as the female lead. This scene from Duffy is a classic bit of “atmosphere” in which James Coburn dances with her at a trippy club:



I also haven’t seen Sebastian (1968) with York and Dirk Bogarde. It contains a nice acid freakout sequence, but York doesn’t feature in that. Here she is, again dancing in a hip, Swinging Sixties nightclub:



One of the most controversial pictures she starred in was Robert Aldrich’s The Killing of Sister George (1968). It’s a bizarre film that is very important, in that it was one of the first feature-length dramas about lesbianism. It contains a streak of the grotesque, in which Aldrich seems to be revisiting the territory he covered in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, plus it also adheres to the unspoken rule at the time that gay protagonists had to be tragic, haunted figures. I love Aldrich’s wildly subversive style, though, and so do recommend you check out the whole film, but if you want to see a key scene, this would be the one, as Beryl Reid is told off by Coral Browne, as ultra-cute gf Susannah York has to decide which older lady to stay with:



York’s most powerful scene, with Gig Young, in Sydney Pollack’s adaptation of the brilliant Horace McCoy novel They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (1969). Change the milieu from a marathon dance contest in the Depression to the pathetic “reality TV” competitions of today, and you’ve got just about the same story, don’t you?



York was the female lead in the film adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut’s play Happy Birthday, Wanda June (1971). Contrary to what the YouTube poster and commenters say, it was never a Vonnegut novel, it was an original play. It’s noted that Vonnegut hated it, but I sorta like its claustrophobic staging of the play with its odd surreal moments. The boy in the film, Steven Paul, went on to make the most amazingly off-kilter (read: bad on a whole new level) Vonnegut adaptation, Slapstick of Another Kind:



When I had heard that York had died, I thought of my two favorite films in which she had starred. The first is Altman’s surreal thriller Images from 1972. It’s a hard film to synopsize, in that it concerns a woman who may or may not be losing her mind, but it features York as a children’s book author who begins to experience delusions about the men in her life. It is one of those films that Altman made because he wanted to make it, not because it had the slightest chance to do well at the box office:



The other film starring York that I love and rewatched several times is the American Film Theater adapation of Jean Genet’s The Maids (1975). She and Glenda Jackson play the servant sisters who plot to kill “the Madame” (Vivien Merchant), but also secretly wish to be her. It’s a brilliantly acted film and is also a sexy exploration of roleplaying and domination (although, of course, Genet had initially wanted young men to play the roles in drag). The film is available on DVD from Kino, and I recommend you check it out on disc, or for the limited time it’s up on YT, you can check it out there. Here is the trailer:



York was of course best known to American audiences in the last few decades as Superman’s mom in the Christopher Reeve movies, but I want to end this tribute on an “up” note from a film I believe has never played over here, an adaptation of Alice in Wonderland (yes, *another* one), called Alicja (1982). Made by Polish directors Jacek Bromski and Jerzy Gruza in England, the film features musical numbers, and here we have a disco-era bit of wonderment with Susannah York, Jean-Pierre Cassell, Lulu (who provided the voice of the film’s lead, Sophie Barjac), Paul Nicholas, and Freddie Mercury’s pal Peter Straker. The song is called “Talk Small” and yes, you won’t be able to forget the awful lyrics (including “They like imported cheese!”). It’s also too long and tacky as hell, so you need to watch it: