So That’s a Cyclops?

I DVR’d Cyclops (1957) from TCM with high hopes and it did not disappoint. Oh, it was not a good movie by any stretch. But I had a good time making fun of it.

Oh yeah, Spoiler Alert! I’m probably going to spoil practically everything.

In the first scene, a girl is meeting with a Spanish-accented official who is denying her permission to fly… somewhere, looking for her fiance whose plane crashed there some three years ago.

So let’s start with that. Three years ago? If your fiance disappears in a plane crash, how do you wait three years before going to look for him? Or am I asking too much of a movie female? I suppose the expedition was a little complicated to arrange. For one thing, the girl couldn’t finance it all on her own (I can go on calling her “the girl,” because she’s the only one in the picture). She has joined forces with a guy who has invented something that detects uranium. Gee, do you suppose he is in this only to make a buck and is likely to cause trouble later?

The official plans to send someone with them to make sure they fly straight home and nowhere else. It’s not really spoiling anything to tell you that they circumvent the official and head for the restricted place, is it? I was hoping they would do something at least marginally clever and fool the guy, but no, Lon Chaney, Jr. sucker punches him and they take off. Nobody follows them.

In retrospect it occurs to me that they could have used that fact as foreshadowing: the place is so dangerous the officials will leave them to their fate. I think the script writers got lazy (if they ever invent a time machine, I may try to get myself a job as a movie writer in the ’50s). Well, that’s OK, we want to see the mysterious, dangerous place with the Cyclops; we don’t want to spend the whole picture getting there.

Regarding Lon Chaney I kind of got my hopes up when I saw his name in the credits. Well, I guess actors have bills to pay, too. Actually, Chaney does a good job as the uranium-seeking trouble-maker. It’s just that I had kind of wanted to see him get turned into a Cyclops.

And may I just insert a word about movie slugs? In movies and on television, one sock to the jaw is all it takes. The slugee is down for the count. Men especially like to do this to women “for their own good.” So the man can go off and have all the adventure while the girl stays “safe” (I use the terms “man” and “girl” intentionally). No women get slugged in this picture, so it’s got that going for it.

Lon Chaney is apparently a very good slugger. His next is administered to the pilot of the plane. Even in the close confines of the cockpit, he knocks the guy out so he can grab the controls. Chaney wants to land while his whatevermeter is clicking high. He almost gets his wish in a big way as the plane plummets toward the earth. You see, the other guy has grabbed him from behind and pulled him away from the controls.

Excuse me, what? The pilot is out cold. Why are you pulling the one left awake away from the controls? Luckily the girl shakes the pilot awake in time to avert disaster. I’ll pass over my wonderment that you can shake somebody awake in that situation. Likewise I’ll pass over their extreme luck in finding, inches before impact, a strip of ground sufficient to land on in a huge mountain range. I know, I have to suspend some disbelief. I didn’t even blink when the girl’s map shows they are very close to where the fiance’s plane went down.

So she and the other guy go off hiking into the jungle (yes, a jungle in the mountains, get over it), leaving Lon Chaney to try to talk the pilot into flying him home so he can “stake his claim” to the supposedly uranium-rich area. OK, so they weren’t even allowed to fly there legally, but this guy can just claim it for his very own, like in the Old West? The knock-out slugs and safe landing were easier to swallow than that one!

Never mind, it’s a movie. Let’s get to the monsters. Through the miracle of perspective, we get giant lizards, a giant mouse and a giant hawk. The first time a character sees a giant lizard, he stands there watching it and smoking his pipe in a contemplative fashion. When the lizard retreats behind a rock before anyone else can see it, the guy says it must have been his imagination.

You see where this is going, right? Fiance isn’t dead, he’s a giant. And his face has been hideously deformed by reasons which are never made clear (after all, the animals are all intact) so that he only has one eye and can only talk in grunts. We don’t know if he can understand anything, but the girls tries to talk to him.

Bringing movie female stupidity to new heights, she does not realize that this scary creature is her fiance. She just wonders why looking at him makes her sad. Come on! Even I know who he is, and I never met the guy! Oh well, I suppose three years and radioactive deformities can change a person.

The movie is full of “Why would they…?” moments. For example, why does the Cyclops block the people into a cave with a big old rock which he is then unable to reach them over, as he tries to do? Then he leaves (why?) and they do NOT (a) look for an alternative escape route, (b) see if he’s still there, or (c) try to come up with SOME plan. Instead they opt for (d) go to sleep. I thought it was still morning!

At least this gives Lon Chaney a chance to steal the rifle, which eventually leads to his coming to a not very exciting end at the hand of the monster (who can only get one hand into the cave far enough). Oh, but first he goes back to sleep, and when they all wake up, nobody says, “Hey! Gimme that rifle back!”

The movie can’t seem to make up its mind if the Cyclops is scary or sad. They kind of go back and forth, ending up on scary in one of those “Oh, now the movie is over” endings. I see I’m over 1000 words and I haven’t even started on how that’s not what I thought a Cyclops was. I guess I’ll just end with, if you like a stupid movie you can make fun of, Cyclops is a good choice.

Bad News Day

I am really sorry to be making two serious posts in less than a week (although I guess I did get a little silly talking about depression), BUT…

Something really bad happened in the Mohawk Valley this morning, and it is still going on.

In a nutshell, it seems a guy set fire to his home in Mohawk, NY then drove to two businesses, one in Mohawk, one in Herkimer, and shot six people, four of whom are dead. At last report he is holed up in an abandoned building on North Main Street, surrounded by law enforcement. They have not been able to make contact with him and are playing a waiting game.

I’m not really writing a post about this event, because this is not a news blog. I don’t have the sorts of resources and skills needed. In short, I probably can’t add anything valuable.

However, with this going on, I feel utterly incapable of writing my usual Mohawk Valley Girl schtick. The building where the guy is allegedly hiding is two blocks from my house. I could not go to Curves for my endorphins, because it is basically across the street (although the address is the next block over; it’s a big building). I felt happy I could get to my house, that the police had not set a WIDE perimeter and evacuated five or six blocks over. And this is after all day at work hearing things in bits and pieces, gleaned from what people texted my co-workers, who were not supposed to be on their cell phones at work anyways but I don’t think management got too exercised over it in this situation (that may be a run-on sentence, but I don’t care).

So, sorry. Not a real post. If you want the whole story of the shooter, I can refer you to www.wktv.com, where I have been watching it on the news.

I hope to be more myself tomorrow.

Holding Out for a Hero

What drama! The suspense is killing me! And the play hasn’t even started.

Last September I wrote about how Dirty Work at the Crossroads, the play which my husband Steven was directing for Ilion Little Theatre (lengthy subordinate clause), had to be postponed, due to the leading lady dropping out. At that time, the full cast was committed to doing the play in the spring.

Of course, things happen (some people use a more vulgar expression). By February we had lost the heroine, the hero and two supporting characters. Yikes! Last night (Monday) we held auditions to try to fill those parts.

The folks that had already been cast and were keeping their parts (including me) were all on hand to read with newcomers. Once Steve and I had figured out how to turn the stage lights on, we waited in anticipation.

And we got some new people! Some talented, nice, fun people! We added four ladies to the cast. I know my previous list only included three females, but we were also able to undouble a previous double casting. Woo hoo!

Now here’s the bad part: new new men showed up. We need a hero!

People re making phone calls, sending emails and asking around. Some really good-sounding possibilities have already been eliminated. Rats!

So this may be it for Dirty Work at the Crossroads (say it ain’t so!). Steven can’t take the part and we can’t double cast. Like I said, DRAMA! I remain in suspense. So, I fear, must my readers. Expect further posts as events warrant.

From Downer to Endorphins

I suffer from depression. There, I’ve said it.

And having written it, I sit here and stare at the sentence, asking myself if this is really what I want to write a blog post about. Of course it’s not. In the first place, I’ve always said I like to keep my blog positive. Why would I want to write about a downer subject like depression?

Another problem is, a lot of people don’t “believe in” depression. “Oh, just get over it,” these people say. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.”

Have you ever tried actually pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, or sneaker laces, as the case may be? I have not, but quite frankly, I can’t see it working. I’d probably end up flat on my back with my feet over my head, looking perfectly ridiculous. Might give anybody who happened to see it a good laugh, but I can’t see it doing me much good.

Almost worst is the well-meaning person who says, “Why are you depressed? You have a wonderful husband, an adorable dog. You have a house and a job,” etc. That makes me feel even more depressed, because what kind of a lowlife can’t be appreciative of Steve and Tabby?

So, no, this is not the blog post I want to be writing.

That was as much as I managed to write on my break at work. After work I went to Curves and worked out really vigorously. I burned a new record of calories, according to the computer. When I announced it to the other ladies, they cheered for me. I got a great shot of endorphins and endorsement! So I don’t feel depressed any more.

However, Steven and I have to be leaving soon to go to Ilion Little Theatre for second auditions for his show, Dirty Work at the Crossroads. Long time readers, if any, will remember that this show has been rescheduled from October to May. I don’t have time to write a new, un-depressed blog post. I have to shower and change.

Anyways, if nobody shows up for auditions, I will have a reason to be depressed. Stay tuned.

About My “About”

It is Wrist to Forehead Sunday and I’m not apologizing. Oh, that’s an oxymoron that I love: I’m sorry but I’m not apologizing.

I just wrote my “About.” You know, when somebody goes to your homepage, they can click on “About” and read a little blurb about what your blog’s all about. I started this blog in May of 2011 and never wrote one. From then till now, it just said, “You can put stuff here about your blog.”

I actually wrote my “About” a couple of weeks ago, after I had written that day’s post (handwritten in a spiral notebook while on break at work) and still had a little oomph left. I never got it typed into the computer. Then I mislaid the notebook (I thought I had left it at Brian’s Roast Beef Deli, but they can’t find it). Let that be a lesson to me. So today I finally sat down and composed an “About” at the keyboard (much like I’m composing this post), thinking, “Well, maybe I can write today’s post about how I wrote my “About.”

How’s it working out for me?

Now that I’ve actually written the “About,” I’m thinking of a few other things I could have mentioned, like my husband and my dog, both of whom figure prominently in many posts. Oh well, I can always go back and edit it in another 22 months.

Crazy Good Show

I spent the first part of Act I of The Crazy Time at Ilion Little Theatre worried my husband might leave me for a younger woman. I spent the second part kind of hoping he would.

Just only kidding, Steven!

Last night (Friday, March 8), we went to Ilion Little Theatre (ILT) to see The Crazy Time, written by Sam Bobrick and directed by Julianne C. Allen. The play deals with what problems can ensue when a man leaves his wife of over 30 years for a young chippie. Julianne promised giggles in a Facebook post earlier this week, and the show delivers.

I don’t want to tell you too much about the characters and the plot, because I think it is funnier to let it unfold before you. I didn’t know much about it beyond the above paragraph, and I was thoroughly entertained.

Christopher Casey plays Miles, the 50-something man trying to keep up with his 30-years-younger chippy wife (I can call her a chippy; I’m almost 50 myself). He has a challenging part, because he is on stage for practically the whole show. He does a fine job with it.

George Malavasic also does a fine job, making a character who is really kind of a slime bucket be actually pretty likable. Malavasic gets some of the best laughs of the evening. Also getting a lot of laughs was Raphael DeLorenzo, who has been in several ILT productions. I had the pleasure of being on stage with him in Harvey, when he played the brilliant, buttoned-down Dr. Sanderson. I’ll just say he has quite a different part in this play.

Speaking of laughter, I was so impressed with Jennifer Brown, a newcomer to the ILT stage for her ability in that area. It is WAY harder to laugh on stage than to cry (I’ve done both). Brown goes off into peals of delightful laughter, sounding completely natural.

I have to admit, though, my favorite character was Kate, Miles’ dumped wife, played by Julianne Allen. Maybe it’s because I’m approaching 50 myself, but to see the divorced, older woman so sexy and sure of herself did my heart good.

The play continues today, Saturday, March 9 at 8 p.m. and Sunday, March 10 at 2 p.m. at The Stables, Remington Avenue, Ilion, NY 13357. For more information you can visit their website at www.ilionlittletheatre.org. You can also like them on Facebook.

And Thank You, Brian’s

Monday during our various movements dealing with the computer (see yesterday’s post), Steven and I got a little hungry. I suggested lunch at Brian’s Roast Beef Deli.

We easily found a parking place on Main street and easily found a table at Brian’s, even though they were doing a brisk lunch business. The menus were on the table, under plexiglass. I got up and checked the Specials board as well. Lots of good choices.

Steven decided on a deluxe hamburger with macaroni salad. I got garlic boneless chicken wings and a side of macaroni and cheese. I had been thinking of that macaroni and cheese ever since I suggested Brian’s. Seven got coffee to drink. I daringly ordered a draft beer, smallest size.

The waitress was one we’ve seen before. I asked her if she had lost weight since I last saw her. I always hesitate before I ask that question. I’m afraid the answer will be, “What, you thought I was FAT the last time you saw me?” I usually meet with a good response, though, and so it was this time. She had been trying to lose a few pounds and was glad it showed.

Our food was delicious. While we ate I noticed a note below the plexiglass on the table talking about how all the food was fresh made from the finest ingredients. I could tell. They were some of the best boneless wings I’ve ever had.

A lady Steven knows came in while we were there. She and her luncheon companion were sharing a large antipasto.

“Ooh, that looks good; I should’ve gotten that,” I said. “That’s what I do in restaurants,” I explained. “I look at what other people are eating and see what looks good.”

The lady said she thought my lunch had looked pretty good. I assured her it was. She may get the boneless wings next time.

We greatly enjoyed our lunch at Brian’s. It made a nice interlude in the midst of our computer dealings.

Brian’s Deli is located at 122 N. Main St., Herkimer, NY 13350, phone number 315-866-3664. They are open Monday through Thursday from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m., Friday and Saturday from 11 a.m. to midnight. You can like them on Facebook.

Thank You, Beasley’s

I spent the latter part of last week lamenting my computer woes and feeling grateful to Herkimer’s Basloe Library for filling in the gap (who says I can’t multi-task?). Monday, Steven and I managed to do something about it, thanks to Beasley’s Electronics.

We were pretty sure our problem was the monitor and that we would have to replace it. Still, we didn’t want to just buy a new monitor, hook it up and find out that wasn’t the problem. we thought a good repair place could advise us. Besides, what do we know? Maybe the monitor could easily be fixed (yeah, right after we win the lottery and I change into that acid-wash denim mini-skirt with the 26-inch waist).

We used to notice Beasley’s a few years ago, when we had dinner at Cherry’s, a restaurant across the street, now sadly closed. In those days we had nothing that needed repair, but one remembers some things.

First we went to… a certain big box store that does not need a plug from Mohawk Valley Girl. I had unfortunate visions of road trips to New Hartford and other big box stores (I know, it’s not that far; I just didn’t want to mess with it). But no, monitors are obtainable in Herkimer. We drove down Mohawk Street to Beasleys.

When we walked in we discovered that there was very little room to walk. the place was packed with televisions, computers, etc, in various stages of repair or waiting to be recycled. I also admired a couple of antique radios. I don’t know if they were there to be fixed or just to look cool, but they certainly did look cool.

After speaking with Greg Beasley, we went and got our monitor, which I had foresightedly unhooked from the tower the previous night. He said he would take a look and call us later in the afternoon. As we predicted, he did not hold out much hope of a repair but said he might have a new or used monitor he could sell us.

When we returned to Beasley’s, a man with two adorable young boys was purchasing a used wide screen TV. When the boys stepped outside for a minute (I forget why), Steven and I moved into the space where they had been standing, so as to be out of the way when they moved the TV.

“Hey, you took our spot,” the younger boy accused when they returned.

“We did,” I admitted. “Shift your feet, lose your seat.” It was not technically a seat, but you know how I like to rhyme. I think the older boy was amused.

We ended up buying a new monitor for a very similar price to what we would have paid at the big box store (I say similar because it was a different brand and I don’t remember the exact numbers).

“And now you have someplace to take it if it gives you any problems,” Greg said. That was a big selling point for me.

We got our new monitor home and hooked up with very little problem. I am once again typing my blog posts at my leisure, in my house. Love that Basloe Library, but I prefer to go there for books.

Beasley’s Electronics is located at 313 Mohawk St., Herkimer, NY 13350, phone 315-866-0866. You can visit their website at http://beasleyselectronics.com/.

Just a Little Silliness

I’m afraid it’s Wuss Out Wednesday, a feature I have not taken gross advantage of like, for example, Lame Post Friday and Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I didn’t like the “real” post I was working on, but I came up with this bit of nonsense which I am oddly a little proud of. It may be that this will only be appreciated by theatre geeks — uh, I mean theatre lovers. It’s best read out loud in an airhead voice.

I have to do this paper for my online MFA course, so I thought I’d do it about that modern playwrite, Henry Gibson. Why everybody thought he was so modern when he was writing in the 1800s, I don’t know, but that’s what they call him. I know he wrote a play about hunting, something about a Wild Duck. I don’t think it it included recipes, which is too bad, because my boyfriend hunts.

What? I don’t see why plays can’t include recipes. They could put them in the program notes. I once read an Agatha Christie novel that included a recipe for chocolate cake. Delish!

Anyways, getting back to Gibson, I think he also wrote a play that was a biography of Hedda Hopper, only he had to change the name to avoid a lawsuit. I forget what that one was called.

I was hoping they had made movies out of his plays so I wouldn’t have to read them. Of course I mean read them AGAIN. I’ve read Gibson. That other guy, too, that wrote about the salesman. Roger Miller. Or was it Barney?

Witness to a Lucky Murderer

Spoiler Alert! I’m pretty much going to recount the entire plot of Witness to Murder, including the dramatic climax.

I did not think Witness to Murder (1954) was going to be particularly cheesy when I saw that it starred Barbara Stanwyck, but you never know. They were still cranking out movies at a pretty good pace in the ’50s. They couldn’t all be cinematic masterpieces.

Things start right out excitingly with Stanwyck looking out her window to witness a murder (hence, the title) in an apartment across the street. She really has quite a good view. Some may carp over a murderer acting in front of an open window with the lights on, but, hey, it almost worked for Raymond Burr in Rear Window. Anyways, when we meet the murderer, played by George Sanders, we quickly learn that he is egotistical enough to feel he can get away with anything.

Stanwyck quite sensibly calls the police. This is about the last sensible thing she does, but we can’t really complain about that, because the movie would have been much shorter otherwise. Also, Sanders would have probably gotten away with murder and that character is definitely not likable enough for us to want that to happen.

Gary Merrill and Jesse White play the cops that show up to investigate. White doesn’t really have much of a part. His presence at least enabled me to make a couple of bad jokes about the Maytag repairman, but I must also say, kind of a waste of a good comedic actor.

Sanders is one of those lucky movie murderers who is easily able to cover his tracks. He has one bad moment when he freezes, mid-drag while moving the body, to stare at the elevator dial, afraid the cops are in it. Which struck me as a little silly. I guess I don’t think like a movie murderer, but if I’m dragging a dead body by the elevator and think the cops might be on it, I think I would be more likely do drag the body FASTER, not stand staring at the elevator to see if I’m right.

Now that I’m pondering the point, though, it occurs to me that perhaps he thought the dead lady’s high heels would ka-thunk on the floor and the cops would hear. Maybe he was trying to come up with a good story, one that might begin, “Thank God you’re here! Look what I just found!” We’ll never know, because the elevator passes by, and Sanders is able to stash the body in a handily located empty apartment (did I mention he’s a lucky murderer?) and change into pajamas in time to open the door to the cops, all sleepy-eyed innocence.

The cops are easily convinced that Stanwyck dreamed the whole thing. They are later on very amenable to being convinced that she’s crazy. Stanwyck obligingly has hysterics when confronted with Sanders’ trumped up evidence, landing herself in the loony bin.

I was a little disappointed she doesn’t spend more time in the Snake Pit (it isn’t really very snakey or even very pitty, but I thought I’d throw in another old movie reference to sound more erudite) (did it work?). For one thing, she might have reformed things, like that lady did in Bedlam (perhaps you read my blog post about that movie).

She gets sprung fairly quickly and easily, I believe due to the good offices of Merrill. You may have guessed the two of them fall in love. I always enjoy a love interest, especially when the guy falls for a girl who has a little on the ball, which Stanwyck does, even though the script calls for some typical stupid movie female behavior.

Which brings us to the dramatic climax.

OK, Stanwyck has figured out how Sanders broke into her apartment to type the poison pen letters that convinced the cops she was crazy (yeah, I didn’t explain that part very well earlier, but I’m sure you can keep up). However, she does not, for example, call an all-night locksmith to put in a dead bolt or even spend the night with a girlfriend (actually, I’m not sure Stanwyck has any girlfriends in this; the producers didn’t really spend a lot on minor characters). Well, I suppose one can’t think of everything. She is awfully tired, having not gotten a lot of sleep in the loony bin.

Anyways, guess who’s waiting for her in the bedroom, having already typed a fake suicide note. Stop! As I type this in, I suddenly say, “Waaaait a minute!” The police have Stanwyck’s typewriter. They took it to prove she typed the poison pen letters. Either they nicely put it back rather than properly in the evidence room, or Sanders, in addition to being lucky, is foresighted enough to have ALREADY typed the note. But I digress.

Sanders’ plan is to pitch Stanwyck out the window. Suddenly a lady cop shows up, sent by Merrill to check on Stanwyck. Sanders is, of course, ready with his story, that he was trying to STOP this poor, suicidal crazy woman. Does Stanwyck realize she is now safe? Sanders can’t possibly thrown her out the window and pretend it’s suicide with a lady cop standing right there, for heavens’ sake!

In her second biggest Stupid Movie Female Move of the picture (stand by for number one), Stanwyck runs away screaming. Nobody seems to believe that the guy chasing her wants to kill her, but for some reason they all join the chase. Soon a whole crowd is after her. Boy, can that woman move in a pair of high heeled pumps! Sanders is the only one who can keep up with her!

Then she does the single, absolute biggest Stupid Movie Female Move imaginable: she runs all by herself into a deserted high rise building, all the way up all the stairs and OUT ONTO THE ROOF!!! What a good place to go when you are running away from a man who wants to throw you out of a building and pretend it’s suicide.

It’s a good thing this was the climax, because I was ready to wash my hands of the Stanwyck character after that.

Predictably, nobody in the busybody crowd follows them up the stairs. Equally predictably, Merrill arrives on the scene, armed with Proof that Sanders is a killer. I don’t suppose anybody will be surprised to know that Merrill’s proof is a spurious as the stuff he’s been rejecting from Stanwyck all through the picture.

No matter. This is a movie, he’s the hero, and he’s going to save the day. I didn’t need to include another spoiler alert before I told you that, did I?