Getting a genuinely good movie out of the Star Wars franchise definitely puts him the inner circle of the Amazing Directorial Accomplishments Hall of Fame, right up there with Billy Ray’s “getting a good performance our of Hayden Christensen.” R.I.P.
Tag: "i see dead people"
RIP Sparky. Not a surprise given reports yesterday about Anderson being placed in hospice care. Sparky’s passing will be mourned in both Cincinnati and Detroit.
Has any other player ever received as many as 527 plate appearances in his rookie season, and never played in another major league game? 42 walks in 527 PA is actually kind of impressive from someone who hit .218 and slugged .249…
R.I.P. Ken Tucker has a warm remembrance.
I have to admit that my memory of Bosley is dominated by two things:
- Video doesn’t seem available online, but he used to star in an infomercial for a particularly dodgy scam, which he would start out by gravely intoning that he was very selective about the products he endorsed. I believe the standard was that the check had to clear.
- Our household has a lot of Murder, She Wrote screenings, and I always like the episodes where Bosley played the sheriff. He had some kind of omniregional accent (it’s a little bit Southern! It’s a little bit New England! Is that a soupcon of Brooklyn?) that would change from scene to scene and sometimes from line to line. Awesome.
This means I definitely need to see Bonnie and Clyde when it screens at the Palace in a couple months. To be honest, on small screen viewings it has seemed to me a pretty good movie and nothing more than that. In part, I’m sure, this is because its more innovative aspects have become commonplace — but you can say the same thing about, say, L’Aventurra or The Wild Bunch or Vivre sa Vie, all of which hold up a lot better for me. But, then, I’ve seen all off the latter ones in proper big-screen showings, so maybe I’m missing something. And I’ve always liked Night Moves…
Glenn also has more on Tony Curtis here.
Jefferson Thomas, R.I.P. We should never forget the courage of the young men and women who actually had to put their lives on the line to attend school in the face of state violence or state-sanctioned violence.
Claude Chabrol, R.I.P. His skills were indeed relatively undiminished; 2006′s The Comedy of Power is also very sharp.
I was relatively late to Facebook, not creating a profile until sometime in 2007 (I forget exactly when). Once I set up my account, I made friends with all the people who had hounded me into it, then began to search for friends from grad school, from the blogosphere, and so forth. I eventually made my way “back” to high school, and became friends with a handful of people whom I’d been relatively close with (I have since made it all the way back to elementary school), including an F-15 pilot who had previously been unaware of my attitudes towards the Air Force. I also became friends with Jessie, with whom I’d gone to senior prom and on whom I had (to no great avail) briefly but intensely crushed.
Over the two years or so that we were “Facebook friends” we chatted a few times, exchanged a couple of e-mails, and made a few comments on and “likes” of each others statuses, pictures, links, and so forth. It didn’t amount to intense interaction, but I learned that Jessie had gotten married, had a son, and developed breast cancer. She’d beaten it, but had suffered a recurrence and was going through treatment again. I never delved very deeply into the details, because I didn’t feel it was my place; I wasn’t close enough to ask questions that might be difficult. Nevertheless, I was happy that we were able to chat, and that she had the opportunity to comment on pictures of the girls.
This morning I noticed that some friends were writing on her Wall, and I soon learned that Jessie passed away last night. What we communicated over the past couple of years didn’t amount to much, but right now it means a lot to me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known that she had passed, I wouldn’t have known why, and I wouldn’t have a sense of how her friends were reacting. While I didn’t have a chance to say “goodbye,” I wouldn’t have had a chance to say “hello (again).” At the moment, I find this very comforting.
Of course, there’s nothing particular about Facebook that makes this possible. Any other social networking site could do the same thing, providing that sufficient numbers of people sign on. There’s no excuse for the fumbling of privacy rules and regulations. Still, there really is something valuable in what Facebook provides, and right now I’m thankful that I signed on, that Jessie signed on, and that we had our final chance to talk. I will miss her, but I at least I’ll know that I miss her.