Friday Dance Party: Danger, Will Robinson

What a week it's been, for the whole country, even the world, but especially for those of us who live in DC. An amazing, historic week, which deserves to be honored any way we can. It's time for a respectful, hopeful, and most of all, dignified tribute to a new era of competence and inspiration.

Well, you'll have to go someplace else for that. Instead, let's honor somebody else. Here's a guy of whom you may never have heard, until his death this week brought him back into the national spotlight. Everyone "of a certain age" has seen Bob May, though they may not have known it. Here he is:

Still don't recognize him? Here's a better shot:

He's the guy on the left.

The story goes that May was wandering around the studio one day when someone said, "Go over and see Irwin Allen. He needs somebody to wear a robot suit." That day, a star was born. Though May did not furnish the voice of Lost in Space's robot, he turned those accordion arms and claw hands, not to mention the bubble head, into an endearing character. After a year or so on the air, it was apparent that what was envisioned as an ensemble show had three break-out stars. Jonathan Harris's portrayal of Dr. Smith, originally a villainous saboteur whose actions caused the space travelers to veer hopelessly off-course, evolved into a masterfully comic performance. Billy Mumy, as Will Robinson, the youngest astronaut in history, provided Harris with a grounded counterweight. And Bob May's Robot (voiced by Dick Tufeld, who deserves equal credit) became the comic foil. The chemistry between the three performers was undeniable, and in its later years, the majority of episodes of Lost in Space centered around this trio.



So, with due respect for the momentous events of the week, and recognizing that monumental change is on the way for all of us, please enjoy this homage to Lost in Space:

A Story Retold...

The Star Wars Trilogy was probably the biggest cinematic event of my childhood, but I was never a big fan. I did see them as they came out, one by one, because, well, one did. But I have not seen them since. Still, this little clip cracked me up;

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

John Mortimer

1923-2009

Mortimer conducted two high-profile careers simultaneously, that of the writer and the lawyer. A British barrister for decades, he was an expert in "Freedom of Speech" cases, winning victories for Linda (Deep Throat) Lovelace, Lady Chatterly's Lover, and the Sex Pistols. Meanwhile, he was an accomplished and prolific writer of films, television, plays, novels, and his own memoir (in three volumes). He is surely best known for creating and writing Rumpole of the Bailey, a television series concerning a disheveled legal defender of low-lifes and ne'er-do-wells. The show was a success throughout the world, and turned Shakespearean character actor Leo McKern into an international star. (McKern was not the first choice to play the role; Alistair Sim had been approached and turned down the gig.)

Mortimer wrote many plays during his career, including A Voyage Around My Father, the autobiographical story of a young lawyer and his blind parent. It was filmed with Alan Bates as the young Mortimer and Laurence Olivier as his father. He also adapted Franco Zeffirelli's autobiography into a film script, which Zeffirelli himself directed. Tea With Mussolini had a starry cast of award-winning actresses including Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Joan Plowright, Lily Tomlin, and Cher.

Mortimer received credit for the TV adaptation of the sprawling miniseries Brideshead Revisited (about which I have already written), but in fact, none of his finished teleplays were used. His greatest success remains the creation of Horace Rumpole. The charismatic character was at home in front of the most intimidating of judges (whom Rumpole called "old darlings"), and was likely to be found most any afternoon at Pommeroy's Wine Bar, sipping claret and quoting something literary, after which he would return home to his overbearing wife, "She Who Must Be Obeyed."

Mortimer was knighted in 1998, and since 2004, was a legal consultant on Boston Legal. His surviving children include actress Emily Mortimer (Point Blank).

Though in ill health for several years, Mortimer continued to create. After a morning glass of champagne, he would settle at his desk and write at least 1000 words, in illegible longhand. At the time of his death this week, he had four chapters completed of the latest Rumpole novel.

Escape From DC

Paging John Carpenter.

Remember his 1981 sci-fi flick Escape from New York? I confess I never saw the thing, but it made a significant splash, and turned the formerly clean-cut, white-bread, Disney-cultivated Kurt Russell into, well, an actor. I know it concerns a future (1997!) where the island of Manhattan has been turned into a maximum security prison. It's completely walled-in and cut off from the rest of the world.





Beginning this weekend, and lasting through Inauguration Day, DC will resemble that movie, though we hope without the marauding gangs (I wouldn't mind if Kurt shows up, though). Signs have already been posted announcing severe parking restrictions throughout the city. I mean SEVERE. As in NO PARKING ANYWHERE. 50 city blocks are being shut down to all vehicular traffic, except charter buses and limousines, natch. All the bridges leading into the city from Virginia will be off-limits to personal cars, to make enough room for buses arriving from all over the country. For up to 24 hours and more, downtown will effectively be cut off from the rest of the world. Security concerns are playing a part, but officials are claiming that it is the sheer numbers expected for the Big Day (anywhere from 1-3 million people!) that are causing such draconian measures.



Apparently, this inauguration breaks with tradition in that, for the most part, official events require reservations or tickets in advance. The only major event which is completely open to the public takes place Sunday afternoon, when a huge line-up of stars will be performing at the Lincoln Memorial. Well, the concert is open to anyone who can squeeze themselves onto the Mall. It is not being broadcast for all the world to see. HBO paid a pretty penny to lock up television rights to the event (the Obama people are getting some flack about that, as others believe it is an event of national significance and thus should be on a feed available to all networks. There is some logic to that; though HBO is sending it out for free, if you don't have cable, which about 30% of the country does not, you'll be missing it).

Whatever. That concert will require lots of street closures on Sunday as well. As for Tuesday's actual inauguration, look out. Metro has already warned that its trains and buses will be overtaxed and advised people to walk or ride a bicycle. Street parking will be non-existent, even if you could drive your car around the area, which you can't. The city is being locked up so tightly that hotels and restaurants, which expect a booming business, are wondering how to get supplies delivered or even how their own employees are going to come to work.

I live within walking distance of the mall and could attend the inauguration easier than most. That is, if I want to head out before dawn in order to pass through the security checkpoints, then stand for many frigid hours waiting to watch the proceedings on the large screens set up for the groundlings on the Mall. As for lining up along the parade route, forget about it.

I'll be home, watching the pomp on television, secure in the knowledge that it is a momentous occasion, and knowing I can always claim to have been in DC during the most historic inauguration since such things were invented.

I'll tell those mythical grandchildren all about it. I just don't have to mention I witnessed the whole thing in my pajamas.

Friday Dance Party: LA BAMBA !!

I imagine it's ethnically insensitive of me, but here goes: I expect all our Latin stars to be able to sing and dance. And it seems to be true, dating back to our earliest glimpses of stars such as Ricardo Montalban, whom we lost this week. Before he was Mr. Roarke, before he was Khan, before he luxuriated in fine Corinthian Leather, he was a song and dance man. Maybe I should say, a tango-and-salsa man. Oops, there I go again. Whatever. I wish I could find an online clip of Montalban as "El Gallo" in The Fantasticks, a role he played in the early 60s for television. (That was back when theatrical musicals had a regular place on TV.) I have a copy of that version, only 60 minutes long and in grainy black and white. Bert Lahr is playing one of the fathers, and a very young John Davidson plays the boy. But it is Montalban who steals the show as narrator-bandit El Gallo, crooning "Try to Remember" and breaking the girl's heart. In lieu of that, please enjoy one of the many musical numbers which Montalban performed in his days as a film contract player.

Viva Ricardo!

Patrick McGoohan

1928-2009

Though born in New York, McGoohan was raised in the UK and retained a British flair throughout his career. In his younger years, he had some success on stage, winning the London Drama Critics Award for Ibsen's Brand. In 1964, he was tagged to play the title role of secret agent Danger Man, which was renamed Secret Agent in the United States and spawned a hit theme song. His next television project is the one for which he will be most remembered. For only 17 episodes, he played the enigmatic "Number Six" in The Prisoner, a series which he helped create and write. The show resonated with the cold war generation's paranoia, and is now a cult classic. The opening credits explain it all for you:

I remember being alternately confused, intrigued, and frustrated with this series, but I never missed an episode. (Available on DVD, it's now fun to catch all the different British actors playing "Number Two," a role which changed frequently as each inhabitant of that bulbous chair failed in his mission to break the will of our hero.)

The Prisoner was not my first encounter with McGoohan. I experienced nightmares after watching his performance in a Disney TV movie, of all things. The piece was The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh, in which he played a priest who disguised himself as a scarecrow and avenged things. I was only 7 when I saw it, but it ruined scarecrows for me (sorry, Ray Bolger). I'm still unnerved by them.

In his later years, McGoohan maintained a presence on the big and small screen. He played King Edward I in Braveheart, and the Earl of Moray, the bastard brother of Mary, Queen of Scots. He won two Emmy awards, 16 years apart, for guest shots on Columbo. But there is no doubt he will be most famously remembered as the spy who tried to quit, tried to run, but was sequestered in the eerily charming Village of The Prisoner, where everyone had a number rather than a name.

"Be seeing you."

Ricardo Montalban

1920-2009

Born in Mexico City to Spanish parents, Montalban defied great odds and greater prejudice to become one of the most recognizable actors in the country. As a teen-ager, he immigrated to Los Angeles to attend high school, where he decided to become an actor. He moved to New York and appeared in a few musical film shorts, but became frustrated with the business when he lost the part of a Mexican to white guy John Garfield. He returned to his home country, and within four years, became a star. He was discovered by Hollywood when the Esther Williams film Fiesta came to Mexico for location shooting. Improbably, he was cast as Williams's twin brother. The movie brought him back to Los Angeles, where he became a contract player for MGM. In 1949, he was again paired with Williams and introduced "Baby, It's Cold Outside," which went on to win the Oscar as best song. It is now a perennial holiday favorite. When Montalban's contract was not picked up, he turned to television, which provided him with his most lasting fame. Everyone remembers his starring role as the mysterious, charismatic Mr. Roarke on Fantasy Island, and he also appeared on the Dynasty spin-off, The Colbys. He played a simian-friendly circus owner in two movies in the Planet of the Apes franchise, but is better recalled as one of the more flamboyant villains in the Star Trek universe. The role was Khan, a genetically enhanced alien with a superiority complex and great pectorals. In 1967's episode Space Seed, he was abandoned on a deserted planet by Kirk and the gang. After the first Star Trek film failed to generate much critical enthusiasm, Montalban was tagged to play the role again, this time on the big screen. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was a financial and critical success; it rescued the film franchise, and assured Montalban a place in sci-fi lore as the only Star Trek villain to appear in the original series and in a Trek feature film.

For many years, Montalban was a commercial spokesman for the Chrysler Cordoba. His suave description of the car's interior upholstery became a national catchphrase; there seems little doubt that his coffin will be lined with Rich Corinthian Leather.

Montalban won the Emmy for Best Supporting Actor in 1978, for his performance as a Sioux Indian in the mini-series How The West Was Won, and was awarded the Screen Actors Guild Lifetime Achievement Award in 1993. He died today at the age of 88.