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| Molly 'neath the duvet. |
I am not quite sure where I should begin. I am going to stay away from the recent wingnut act of domestic terrorism and politics overall. As I have expressed here before: I have become so cynical about public service and our public servants. It is entirely possible that you could count on two hands (or one!) all the true public servants in the US today. Bernie Sanders comes to mind, George Miller another, and then my mind starts to wander, ...
I will start w/ TCM. Their star-of-the-month this month is Peter Sellers. Now, I have a v odd relationship with Mr Sellers. I am in immense awe of his talent. It could have ne'er happened due to Sellers wracking mental problems and his plain evil-ness, but I like to imagine an alternate bizzaro world for Sellers. One, in which he won a bushel full of Oscars, a Knighthood, and his rightful place on the dais next to Sir Larry, Gielgud, the Beatles, and other sterling 20th century English talents.
Could never happen, though. Sellers was a truly sick, fucked-up, evil SOB if there ever was one. I became obsessed with Sellers after reading Roger Lewis' excellent biography, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers. I bought the book on a whim at the now, sadly deceased, wonderful Cody's bookstore on Telegraph in the mid-nineties. As odd as it seems, that a 'hatchet-job' movie star bio could change my life, personally, and move me profoundly, that is exactly what happened. Lewis was certainly not the first to tell the story of an artists' life almost exclusively through criticism of an artists' work but his book made me a devout believer in that style of criticism or biography. There are numerous other examples of, roughly, this style of book, which I consider absolute must reading for anyone serious about post-war performing arts. Par example, another Lewis "bio", The Real Life of Laurence Olivier; Greil Marcus' books, Mystery Train and Lipstick Traces; Magic Circles by Devin McKinney; Ian McDonald's Revolution in the Head; and two by Peter Conrad, his stunning, The Hitchcock Murders, and his Orson Welles "bio", Orson Welles: The Stories of His Life. Lewis' book moved me so because I could identify with some of the core hatefulness and insensitivity in Sellers life. I am not an evil or fucked-up person, thank you very much. But, bloodcurdlingly, sometimes did I think, as I read, "There but for the grace of God, go I."
After reading Lewis' book, which by the way, was made in to an ambitious, sometimes entertaining, but ultimately underwhelming HBO film, starring and spear-headed, produced by the v fine, Geoffrey Rush, I immediately sought out Sellers early, seminal, mostly black and white, performances in English feature films. I raided Reel Video and another video shop in downtown Berkeley to watch many of the films that the book alluded to. Many of the VHS films I saw were obv "bootleg" versions, taped straight off the telly. I saw, I'm All Right, Jack (a fab, Boulting Bros stitch-up of English trade unions); The Ladykillers, natch, (an English Technicolour classic, which the Coen Bros mangled beyond belief, quoting Preston Sturges in a frickin' Ealing Studios remake!); a couple of the patently awful Goon Show movies (the Goons just do not work on film or TV); The Dock Brief (a good film and a fine performance from Sellers); the Mouse That Roared (a travesty of a film, Sellers aping Guinness by playing over a half-dozen roles, as Guinness had done in the superb Hamer directed, Ealing Studio release, Kind Hearts and Coronets) which still mystifies me as to being popular in the US and thus a springboard towards Sellers' forthcoming international fame, plus Sellers played his first love scenes, which fucked him up forever, Sellers "fell in love" with every single movie love interest the rest of his career; Tom Thumb (awful); and the joyful, anarchic, classic, The Running, Jumping, Standing Still short (the film that cinched the deal for the Fab Four to hire Lester as director of A Hard Day's Night.)
After working my through those, I still had a list of films, unavailable to me at the time, that I had to see: The Millionairess (saw it on TCM within the last couple of years, it is terrible, Sellers was so in love with Ms Loren, that all his best talents were used to seduce her or entertain cast and crew on the set when they were not shooting); Mr Topaze (still have not seen, Sellers directed); Two Way Stretch (saw it on TCM within the last couple of years, Sellers is amazing in this v fun picture, yet was forever resentful of Lionel Jeffries' performance as Sidney Crout, one of the most over the top, yet spot-on, affecting performances I have ever seen); Only Two Can Play (saw it on TCM within the past couple of years, the film is based on a Kingsley Amis [Martin's da] novel, it is an excellent British comedy and Sellers' performance is one of his best); The World of Henry Orient (saw this also on TCM, a Hollywood film shot in New York, directed by George Roy Hill, a Hollywood version of Heavenly Creatures [before that film was made!], that is one of my all-time fave movies, even my sweetie, Renee [not a huge Sellers fan, by any stretch], loves, and Sellers becomes Oscar Levant, super-highly recommended); Up the Creek (still have not seen); Carlton Brown of the F.O. (have not seen yet); The Battle of the Sexes (have not seen); Your Past is Showing (will see soon, dvr'd a couple of days ago); Beat the Devil (one of my all-time faves, Capote wrote it, Huston directed, it stars Bogart, Robert Morley, Lorre, Gina Lollabrigida, and Jennifer Jones, Sellers dubbed Bogart's voice [Bogart had to be looped due to his jaw being broke part of the time the film was being shot] and all of the non-English speaking Italian and North African actors); Heavens Above!; and Never Let Go.
The last two mentioned I finally saw. Heavens Above! is a near great Boulting Bros picture that stitches up the Church of England. It should be essential viewing for every motherfucking rightwing religious asshole in the United States. (Even though I know they would not get it.) The premise of the film is that in a northern England boom-town, booming due to a huge pharma company establishing itself there, promoting a new "wonder drug" that works as a sedative, stimulant, and laxative all at the same time, a new Vicar is installed accidentally. The Rev John Smallwood that the town was recommended has been mixed up with another Reverend of the same name. Sellers plays Smallwood and he is transcendent, literally, ha ha. A large chunk of Mike Myers' career seems to have taken off from Sellers' Rev Smallwood. Smallwood comes in to town a true disciple of Christ. He shares the vicarage with the notorious free-loading family that all the town despises. He inspires the wealthiest woman in town, and the largest shareholder in the pharma company, her son being in charge, to give away all her wealth to offer free food and products to the citizens of the town. And Sellers is so perfect, so serene, so glibly "above-it-all", truly a Christian. (Rereading Lewis' thoughts on Sellers' performance, I am once again confronted with my personal [and I am not the only one] American irony disability. Lewis believes that Sellers is v gently satirizing the clergy in the CofE. I do not see it that way at all forty years later. And I do not give a tinker's damn whate'er Sellers' intention was. Once the art is released it takes on a life of its' own, it belongs to all of us and it is up to us to draw our own conclusions, and get in touch with how the art makes us feel personally. I understand there are many v learned people out there who disagree with me, who are disgusted w/ the affective fallacy. They are free to disagree. They are wrong but they can think what they want.)
Of course, all this good Christian behavior absolutely starts to cripple bidness in the village. And once the bidnessmen start to hurtin' then Smallwood must go. Lewis hates the ending of the film, thinks it is somewhat of a punch line to a not so great joke. I think the ending is fine.
As great as Heavens Above! was, the real treat for me was a day later when I watched Sellers infest my living room with unctuous slime in Never Let Go. Never Let Go is not a good film. We do not give a shit about our hero, a cosmetics salesman, who loses his job when his Ford Anglia is stolen, and his unending quest to retrieve his car and prove himself a man to his wife & kids. The wife & kids do not give a shit, either. His wife threatens to leave him if he finally confronts Sellers one-on-one and we never see the kids, really. Of course, after Sellers is vanquished, and some heart-rending time peels away, his wife shows up, presumably to salve his bloody head wounds. Richard Todd plays the salesman, provoking the question very early on, "Is this really the person I am supposed to care about for the next two hours?"
Sellers was hired to play Todd's role. And it was a big deal at the time, 1963, that this would be Sellers' first dramatic role but Sellers talked them out of it. He & Todd switched. Sellers became Meadows, the chop-shop "entrepreneur" who runs a "reputable business", according to Meadows. Sellers runs roughshod over the entire picture. To use a cliche, he chews up the screen. Sitting in my home with plenty of light and my sweetie reading Anthony Bourdain's latest book and Molly (our cat) running helter-skelter all o'er the house, I recoiled and winced and groaned and shuddered whenever Sellers was on screen. The worst I felt was when Sellers crunched that baby turtle 'neath his shoe. He is Meadows and Meadows is so loathsome and slimy, so unhinged and crazy violent, so full of himself and his crap notions of politeness and good taste. Lewis states in his book that Sellers should have played both roles. Lewis is so right. Like Lewis, I cannot even imagine what Todd could possibly bring to the Meadows role, yet, I know that Sellers would have really got in touch with all the insipid, pathetic, vulnerable qualities of the salesman. And we know he could bring the violent crazy to Todd's role for the showdown.
But here is the creepy thing aboot Sellers (and perhaps the motivation behind Sellers wanting to play Meadows.) Here is a quote from Lewis' book, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers:
"Asked by an interviewer whether the complete identification with his performances affected his home life, he first said, 'Not at all' (meaning that he himself was what he was); then he added: 'My wife is aware of it, though, especially when it's a nasty part, as in Never Let Go. I was sort of edgy with her while we made the film. Then, while I was making The Millionairess ... I was very serene.'
Oh, well, that's all right, then. Edgy? When he saw Anne calmly leafing through a magazine he flung a vase at her; he ripped a chromium towel rail off the bathroom wall and bent it into shapes; he smashed the pictures in the bedroom; he did his emptying-milk-bottles-on-the-floor bit. Another evening, he tore up his wife's best frocks, because he didn't like it that people complimented her on her appearance. He plucked apart a mink hat and snapped a string of pearls. (He later decided that 'pearls were for tears' and wouldn't allow Britt to possess any.) Anne became a prisoner, as Michael records: 'As long as she was in the house and giving him her undivided attention, then Dad would be content. If he was working in the studios he would ring three of four times a day to check her movements. If she left the house even to go shopping she would be subjected to interrogation.'
Once, she tried to have an hour or two to herself-she came back to Chipperfield to discover the contents of the drawing room in fragments. Porcelain had been ground into the carpets, the tables and chairs were matchwood, unread leatherbound classic novels were ripped to confetti, and cushions were disembowelled. Then Sellers started on Anne herself. 'My headboard and my parents' bed were separated by a thinnish wall,' Michael told me. 'I remember my mother pleading with him to stop-to stop hitting her and to stop threatening more and more violence, I learned later. What I learned was that he wanted to kill her. He was in the middle of making Never Let Go. He made me sit down and watch that film. I was frightened by that fight scene between Meadows and Richard Todd-he assured me that there were plenty of crew members standing by to prevent the swinging chains and winches from actually hurting him.'"
Well. There but for the grace of God, goes not I, blessedly.
Renee and I have a little joke. After watching so many "genius" life stories or reading about those insanely, freakishly talented artist-folk, Renee is thankful that I am not a genius or an immense talent. Yes, I know, there are good soul genius freaks out there, but they seem to be in the minority.
Before I finally end this week long project I would like to discuss one last sellers film, Your Past is Showing: The Naked Truth. It is odd, before I actually saw the film I had always thought the film was simply called The Naked Truth. And that is the title on the U-certificate, The Naked Truth. Yet, when we get to the title card it reads Your Past is Showing, no mention at all of The Naked Truth. Whatever, I briefly mentioned this film in one of my Spy magazine posts. It is a delicious, naughty little film. Sellers plays "Wee Sonny" MacGregor, a British TV star, who is definitely not from Scotland but from Eastditch (and you dare not say anything bad aboot Eastditch to him.) Wee Sonny is a miraculous talent who plays numerous roles on his sketch/game show format program. He, like another big shot and a spoiled, pretty golddigger are being blackmailed by publisher, Dennis Price (of Kind Hearts and Coronets fame.) Price is the publisher of The Naked Truth magazine. (Or is he? He really only threatens to publish.)
All three blackmail victims attempt to end Price's life. Sellers' machinations are the best, though, because as Wee Sonny he has access to costumes, makeup, and his superb acting talents. Sellers gets to play a half-dozen roles, basically. And he is sterling in this fun comedy. If you get a chance you should watch it.
And ... (lowers hand in front of his face) ... Scene.
I will recline supine in the hugs of Ella Fitzgerald singing Rodgers & Hart (and Veuve Yellow Label.)
See you at Morton's on Monday.
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| Sellers and his second wife, Britt Eklund. |
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