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Saturday Hot Links

Posted on by of Go Into The Story

Time for another installment of Saturday Hot Links! Or not…

Today: The “We Remember The Comic Genius of Jonathan Winters” Edition!

In a departure this week, I am going to delay the usual SHL until tomorrow in order to honor one of my heroes: Jonathan Winters. The brilliant comic actor and comedian died this week. He was 87 years old.

I was first introduced to Winters’ unique brand of humor in 1967-1969 with his variety show on CBS. I was a teenager at the time and was fascinated by comedians, staying up late to watch “The Tonight Show” with Johnny Carson, the last segment where he usually featured stand-up comics. Winters was featured on many “Tonight Show” episodes and was about the only guest who could reliably have Johnny falling off his chair with laughter.

Jonathan Winters was a comic genius. There is no other way to describe his creative instincts. If you take the time to watch any of the videos I have posted below, you will see some of his brilliance at work.

His character work was incredible, how he totally inhabited these creatures of his own imagination.

His voice was remarkable, shifting from one persona to another seamlessly.

But it was his improvisation which shone like the stars. On his variety show, each week Winters would take a prop and come up with 2, 3, 4 or more bits completely out of the blue. And they were always funny. He could seemingly riff on anything and had a uncanny sense of calm amidst the most uncertain improvisational circumstances.

As I say, comic genius.

How much did I admire Jonathan Winters? You can go here to read how I wandered into writing my first screenplay. Complete and utter happenstance. In the midst of a two year stint doing a stand-up comedy act, playing clubs up and down California, it was only natural that my initial foray into screenwriting would be about something I knew: The script was titled “Stand Up”.

The logline: “A talented, but inexperienced stand-up comic goes on tour with a legendary comedian who is struggling through a mental breakdown.”

The character I had in mind for that “legendary comedian” was Jonathan Winters. From Wikipedia:

In his interview with the Archive of American Television, Winters reported that he spent eight months in a private psychiatric hospital in 1959 and again in 1961. Although he was not given a diagnosis while in the hospital, the comic was later diagnosed with manic depression. With an unprecedented frenetic energy, Winters made obscure references to his illness and hospitalization during his stand-up routines, most famously on his 1960 comedy album The Wonderful World of Jonathan Winters. During his classic “flying saucer” routine, Winters casually mentions that if he wasn’t careful, the authorities might put him back in the “zoo”, referring to the institution.

That was the character in my script: A manic-depressive. Every time I wrote that character, I had Winters in my mind. I tried my best to honor him with his stand-up routines, his spontaneous ‘performances’ for waitresses, police who arrested him, etc. But throughout, despite dueling with his own personal demons, he served as a Mentor to my story’s Protagonist, the young comic. The truth he conveyed, through subtext and actions, was this: If you really want to be funny, you have to be willing to go all the way.

That rookie comic learns that lesson pertains to how one lives life as well.

One day many years ago, I met with somebody – I can’t remember who – at Musso and Frank in Hollywood. After lunch as I was heading outside, I saw him: Jonathan Winters, seated at the table nearest the front door with some other diners.

I can’t tell you how many times I have intersected with this actor or that, and not spoken to him or her. I know the drill. It’s just not cool. They deserve their privacy. And besides I can devolve into a little kid in their presence, so my default mode is turn aside and get the hell out of Dodge without causing a stir.

But not this day. I pivot and blurt out, “Mr. Winters.”

He trains his gaze up at me.

Holy shit! It’s the Jonathan Winters!!! He’s looking at me!

“I used to watch your variety show. I just want you to know, you make me laugh more than… anybody.”

He smiles at me. The people at his table nod their head. A nice moment. Fan meets idol.

Then he reaches out his hand to shake mine and says, “Well, I’m glad you have such low expectations.”

Today a special Saturday Hot Links. I’ll provide the usual links tomorrow. But for now, enjoy the comedy of Jonathan Winters:

Several comedians remember his remarkable talent.

Godspeed, Jonathan Winters.

In Memoriam: Roger Ebert (June 18, 1942 – April 4, 2013)

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By now I’m sure most of you know that Roger Ebert, one of the most important figures in the realm of movies, has died today. He was 70 years old. Here are some of the obituaries and columns that I’ve found so far:

Chicago Sun-Times

Hollywood Reporter

Variety

Los Angeles Times

New York Times

Deadline

IndieWire

TheWrap

Here is a column Ebert wrote last September: “I do not fear death”

For myself, I believed I had a cinematic soulmate in Roger Ebert. He thought and felt about movies the way I do: He loved them. In many ways, Ebert helped to grow my passion for movies, primarily through the greater understanding he provided through his constant insights.

I started watching “Sneak Previews,” the weekly TV series he hosted with Gene Siskel when it went nationwide on PBS in 1978. I was just finishing up graduate school at the time, a perfect time to plunge full-time into my lifelong affection for film. In my subsequent travels to Colorado, northern California, then southern California, I made it a point to watch that show, then Siskel & Ebert’s next series “At The Movies,” every week.

In particular, I remember house-sitting for some friends in Ventura, California in 1981, and getting into a habit: Watch Siskel and Ebert, then attend the movies they reviewed. More often than not, I found I agreed with Ebert’s take, rather than Siskel. He became my good cop to Gene’s bad cop. I found their weekly dialogues entertaining and informative.

I was a musician at the time and had my days free, so it was not uncommon for me to see two, even three movies in one day. For those several years while living in that sleepy coastal community, that became in effect my film school education. I never would have been able to transition into screenwriting without that cumulative experience. Roger Ebert’s observations fed my learning.

When my first movie K-9 came out, it was, as you can guess, a head-spinning experience. But perhaps nothing meant more to me than seeing it reviewed by Siskel and Ebert. I still have a videocassette recording of that show. Roger gave it a thumbs-up. Gene gave it a thumbs-down. Later Roger also gave Alaska a thumbs-up. Again Gene went thumbs-down.

Yet another reason to like Roger!

And there’s this: Did you know Ebert was a screenwriter? True. He wrote the script for the 1970 Russ Meyer movie Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.

But here is the main reason I resonated with Roger Ebert: I always had the feeling that – unlike some film critics – when he went to see a movie, he wanted to like it. He was smart, knowledgeable, and critical, yet at his core, it seemed to me that he believed in the power of movies to have a transformative effect on a person in the moment and perhaps even longer term.

That’s a belief I share.

On Twitter today, there has been an explosion of reactions to Ebert’s death, a testament to the breadth of his popularity. There have been all sorts of variations on theme: Two thumbs up [to Roger], Two thumbs down [to his death], The balcony is open, The balcony is closed.

Here’s mine: I hope when I die, I get to go to a place where I can hang with Roger Ebert and like-minded souls, where movies run all day and all night. Where we can sit in the darkness, communing with characters, immersing ourselves in story worlds, then gather to share our thoughts and feelings, laughter and tears. To me, that is heaven.

And so I say… Roger, I hope to see you someday… at the movies.

Godspeed, Roger Ebert.

Feel free to share your thoughts and reflections about Roger Ebert in comments. If you find any columns about him you think are especially noteworthy, post them for others to read.

UPDATE: This came up a bit in the OP, but more so in comments and gets at one of the reasons I think Ebert was such a great film critic: He balanced out critical thinking with the knowledge that movies are about emotion, equally if not more. A Roger Ebert quote:

“Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.”

That is a great writing mantra as well.

In Memoriam: Don Rhymer

Posted on by of Go Into The Story

Screenwriter and TV writer Don Rhymer died of cancer on Wednesday. He was 51. From the LAT:

One of his first credits was writing an episode of the ABC family sitcom “Valerie.” He also wrote for the CBS comedies “Evening Shade” and “Hearts Afire.”

In the early 1990s he shifted into movies, starting with the Martin Lawrence comedy “Big Momma’s House” (2000), which he wrote with Darryl Quarles. Rhymer and Quarles teamed up again to write the sequel, “Big Momma’s House 2″ (2006). Rhymer co-wrote the story for a third installment, “Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son” (2011).

His other writing credits include “The Santa Clause 2″ (2002), “Agent Cody Banks 2″ (2004), “The Honeymooners” (2005), “Surf’s Up” (2007) and “Rio” (2011).

After being diagnosed with head and neck cancer three years ago, Rhymer, a La Cañada Flintridge resident, launched a blog called “Let’s Radiate Don,” a wry and often touching commentary on his bouts with the disease, the grueling treatments and his relationships with his wife, Kate, and their three children.

Here is an excerpt from a message by Don’s wife on the blog:

Through Don’s blog, he pulled back the curtain just a bit to give us a glimpse behind his humor to the pain he dealt with every day – both emotionally and physically. But it was only a glimpse, because, true to his nature, he was protecting us from really seeing the horror of what this cancer was doing to his body. He always said that his greatest sadness in this journey was the pain he caused me, our kids, and our friends and family.

Don’s blog provided him a creative outlet, as well as a bit of sanity in this insane experience. Thank you to all of you who faithfully read it, commented on it, or shared it with friends. He got so much satisfaction when someone going through a similar situation would contact him to say how much the blog had helped them. But I don’t think Don was trying to be inspirational. I think he was just trying to be honest. He was just being himself.

IMDB site

Wikipedia page

Godspeed, Don Rhymer.