GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #964: JUROR # 2

 Have you seen Clint's new movie, Juror #2? WB really fucked him over on this. How much money has Clint made for them over the decades he's been making movies? How many awards do they have because of him? Yet because he's an old man, it's time to push him out the door. Instead of releasing a film by Clint Eastwood, one of the greatest living film directors we have, in theaters, it's been released to streaming instead. It's on Max if you wish to look it up. Yes, it did get, what, 50 theaters? But seriously, for a Clint movie? I don't even think that qualified him for Oscar season.

It's a great movie, and it shows that Clint is at the top of his game still. He might not even have a bottom to his game. The story is of a soon-to-be father getting sucked into jury duty only to discover the man accused of a murder might be innocent because the juror did something stupid when he was drunk many years ago. It starts out like 12 Angry Men, but before long it becomes obvious that it's 12 Angry Men From Hell. (12 From Hell? Like Rob Zombie's 3 From Hell?).

I don't want to go too much into the movie itself, because it's so much better if you go in knowing nothing more than this, but I was talking with my comics guys today, and I brought up this movie. As I talked about it I realized something interesting.

I like Nicholas Hoult. His performances are always top shelf, whether he's a young Beast from the X-Men or Renfield. Even when he's telling us stuff like, "Oh what a day! What a lovely day!" You can tell he's something special.

It occurred to me that, decades from now, Hoult is going to be an old man, possibly a director himself, talking to young film students. And one of them is going to ask about this film. More importantly, they're going to ask him, "What was Clint like?"

There will be a YouTube video. If you're alive at the time, check and see if I'm right.

Because Hoult does know Clint now, and he can tell these kids about what the old master was like. He can tell them about all the legends he worked with, and I know someone's going to ask him about Nic Cage. And that's the nature of history. The youngest one of the group usually tells the next generation (or even the next-next) what the rest of them were like. I'm thinking here of the Clint we remember from Rawhide, from the beginning of his artistic journey. He worked with just about everyone except John Wayne, and that wasn't for lack of trying. There's the famous story about . . . eh, not tonight.

I tried to think of what that would be like for Clint. Who would a film student ask him about now? I'd wager Sergio Leone, but it could very well be Don Siegel. He knew Lee Marvin and Richard Harris. Pat Hingle. John Vernon. Guys like that. As a nonagenarian he is an encyclopedia of Hollywood knowledge that will probably be lost when he dies. Has he done a Masterclass? If not, I hope he does one soon. I hate to think of that knowledge vanishing from the earth, never to be recovered. I feel the same way about another nonagenarian, Mel Brooks. I shudder to think of the world we will lose when they're both no longer among us.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #324: THE IMPRESSION

 [Here is where last night's video was supposed to go. I still have it. If you are unhinged and insane, I have the video. I will send it to you if you want. But why would you? I was so drunk and rambling. No. You don't want that. Granted, that's the way I write all of these, but I cut the rambling out. Mostly. So here is a cleaner, to the point version.}

So I recently went down a Clint rabbit hole. Eastwood, not Howard. Sorry. I saw some interviews, but the one that interested me the most is the James Lipton Inside the Actors Studio interview. Look down if you're watching this on my blog. It's in two parts. *points down*

So I've noticed this thing about Lipton. He never asks a question he doesn't already know the answer to. But Clint surprised him. Lipton asked about the cigarillos Clint had for the Leone trilogy, and Clint said, I forgot what, but he got them in a smoke shop in maybe in North Carolina? Just click on the link. And Lipton responds with shock. "Really?!" he asks. I thought that was funny.

Another thing: we all think of Lipton as super serious (unless we've seen Arrested Development) when he's doing the interview gig. Well, at one point he invites Clint's agent since the Leone films to stand up and say a few words, and the agent does. Then he says something about how he also represented someone else, a young actor looking for work by the name of, maybe you've heard of him, James Lipton. And Lipton gets this demonic look on his face, like he sometimes gets when he's about to make a joke that turns out to be really fucking funny, and he says, "I just want it on the record that Clint Eastwood and I have the same agent." And I laughed my ass off.

Why did I call this The Impression? I'm almost there.

So Clint said something that struck me in the heart. I always knew it, but I never knew it specifically. He said something that I've never thought about, but I've known for a long time, and it helped me understand my own approach to my art. He said, "Always take your work seriously. Never take yourself seriously." Holy fuck, that's true.

But the impression he did is fucking delicious. It's the reason I wanted to do a video version of this. I wanted to do an impression of Clint doing an impression of John Wayne who refused to do an impression of Clint. I can't make this shit up. Watch the video below, if you have 90 minutes to kill.

So Don Siegel directed Clint in many movies. Most famously in Dirty Harry. But Siegel also did The Shootist with John Wayne. The book by Glenn Swarthout is fucking amazing. But Siegel was making that movie, famously John Wayne's final. He was down to one lung, remember. When they were between takes, John Wayne was on oxygen.

So Siegel wanted Wayne to shoot a character in the back. It made sense for the character, but John Wayne--who clearly hadn't read the script--took Siegel to task. He insisted he would never shoot anyone in the back. And Siegel argued, reasonably I think, why the character would. I remember John Wayne, whose work I love despite the horrible person he was, in Red River, where he played the villain for a change. I remember him shooting someone in the back, but I can't remember for sure. What I *do* remember for sure is when he shot Liberty Vallance from ambush. That's why James Stewart thought he'd done the deed. Maybe this is neither here nor there, but John Wayne refused to shoot this character in the back.

Don Siegel, who had worked with Clint a lot, maybe five times? Clint was at the top of his iconoclastic game, changing the face of the Western. By then, they'd worked together at least twice. So Siegel says, "Clint would have shot him in the back."

At that point, John Wayne lost his shit so badly he was blue. Remember, one lung. And I watched Clint as he leaned his head back and did the Clint squint. While still being the Clint we all know, which isn't the real Clint (he's a vegetarian who hates guns and doesn't squint at people; he's usually just a dude who has a laid back joke for everyone with his eyes more or less wide open), he does this great imitation of John Wayne refusing to do an impression of Clint: "I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT GODDAM KID WOULDA DONE!"

I swear, I think I nailed the impression of an impression of a refusal of an impression. I'm sorry you missed it, but YouTube fucked me. So did Blogger. Sorry Blogger. I know you let me spout my pre-sleep madness, but you know what you did.

I have to wake up early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep now. I hope that you enjoyed this even without my physical video for impression.

Part one.

Part two.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #80: RESERVED SEATING

Whenever I go to see a movie in the theater, I like to go to a matinee at the York in Elmhurst. It's cheap, and it's close to home. The only problem is, it sometimes doesn't get the movies that I really want to see, like TUSK or THE DROP. In those cases, I tend to head off to the Marcus theater in Addison, because I can't stand the super-expensive AMC in Yorktown, and those are my only other options.


I hadn't gone to the Marcus in a while, but this month I've gone out there twice, and they had a mighty unusual change recently: apparently, they don't have regular seating anymore. They have reserved seating, and all the chairs are wide recliners.


At first, I hated it. It seemed silly to want reserved seats for a movie, and who needs recliners? Are they trying to get me to fall asleep at the show? More so, I'm shocked that Hollywood is OK with this, considering how this cuts down on a theater's capacity to hold people. How would something like this work out for the opening night of, say, the new STAR WARS movie, when it comes out? They can only fit maybe fifty people in there, whereas before they could fit a lot more. It doesn't make much sense.


When I saw TUSK, I didn't like the seating arrangement. But when I saw THE DROP, I kind of didn't mind it. I'm a fat guy, but I'm not a whale. I can fit comfortably in a regular theater seat. (I'd say I can fit comfortably in a seat on a plane, but I'm also a tall guy, so I don't have the leg room to make me comfortable.) The new theater recliners were pretty wide. Plus every pairing has an armrest that comes up, so if I brought a lady friend, we could act like we were on a couch instead of at a movie theater.


It was kind of nice to put my feet up. And put my arms behind my head. And maybe roll around a bit if one of my ass cheeks starts getting numb.


All right, I like it now. I'm cool with it. It won't make me go out to Addison every time I want to see a movie, but if I had to make the trek, that's fine.


One more thing: both shows I went to the Marcus for had almost no audience. I found that pretty bothersome. Both times, there were me and two other people. Yes, they were matinees, but attendance shouldn't be THAT bad. TUSK is a Kevin Smith movie, and Smith has a rabid following. There should have been more people in the audience. THE DROP is based on a Dennis Lehane novel, and his books are adapted by the likes of Clint Eastwood and Martin Scorsese, and they contain major star power. This one has Tom Hardy, who is probably the greatest new actor we have, in addition to the final performance of Tony Soprano himself, the late James Gandolfini. There is no possible way that such a film would have an audience of three, even at a matinee.


That's disappointing. I know that movies on the big screen are a fading part of the experience of being a human being, and it will be a shame when that's gone. There is a certain excitement that comes with the ritual of buying a ticket, getting popcorn, and experiencing a movie with an enormous crowd of people. I remember when I saw SE7EN in the theaters, and I heard people responding--with genuine shock--to the scene with the Sloth victim.


There is no replicating that experience.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #74: ERIC FLEMING

Those of you who have followed me a long time know that GUNSMOKE and MAVERICK have had a major influence on not just my writing but also my life. There are a few others, namely HAVE GUN-WILL TRAVEL and WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE, but there is yet another . . .


RAWHIDE is one of the best written western TV shows in history. It's not my favorite, but I have to admit that a lot more writing went into these episodes than any other show, at least in the first five seasons. After that, things went downhill, even though there were still great episodes.


That's not what I'm here to talk about, though. I want to discuss the unsung hero of RAWHIDE: Eric Fleming.


Most of you know me from my horror writing, so I'm pretty sure you'll mostly recognize Fleming from his work in a movie called CURSE OF THE UNDEAD. It was one of the very first Weird Western movies EVER. It was shit. I'm sorry, but it was. Yet it was the first outing of one of my favorite sub-genres.


To those of you with longer memories, you'll remember Fleming as the star of RAWHIDE. He played Gil Favor, trail boss. Clint Eastwood was equally billed, but let's face it. He was second fiddle to Fleming, the real star of the show for seven seasons.


Again, that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about Fleming, not Favor.


I knew he'd had a shitty life, but I didn't realize how shitty it was until I read the recent history of RAWHIDE by David R. Greenland. But before I get into that, let me give you my impression of Fleming as Favor.


When I was a kid, I hated him. I always sided with other drovers because I thought he was being unfair. He's the boss, and fuck him. But . . . watching the series as an adult, I understand him a lot more. Yes, he was stern, but he had very good reason to be. If he couldn't get these crazy drovers into line, he would never succeed at getting these steers to market. As an adult who wants to succeed at things, I totally get that. Fleming had the right stuff when it came to portraying a firm leader. He had a human side, but he didn't tolerate disobedience. He was fair, but he didn't let shit go. You had to do what he commanded, or you were out. Fair enough.


Fleming was an unlucky son of a bitch. Seriously. You'd think a TV star was in a good position, but he wasn't. Let me explain.


I was an abused child. You know that. I've also surrounded myself with people who were abused children. You probably also know that. However, Fleming was so abused that there's only one person I know who had it worse: Robert Tannahill, my partner on THE COCAINE! BROS. Rob had it rough, worse than anyone I know which is why I give him a lot more latitude than I'd give anyone else. I love him as I've loved no other male human being in my life. We've had our rough patches, but, well, you get it.


I don't know what Rob would be OK with me talking about, so I'll skip it. Instead, I'll talk about what Fleming had to go through. Fleming, who was born as Edward Heddy Jr., was once beaten by his father so bad it kept him in bed for a few days. Young Fleming got stuck with a bone disease when he was a kid, and his father didn't visit him in all the six months he was in the hospital. However, when Fleming came home, his old man had no problem beating the shit out of him, even though he needed crutches to get around. Could you imagine beating the daylights out of a kid who got around on crutches? Me, neither.


Fleming's dad was such a cunt that Fleming tried to shoot him once when he was nine. According to Greenland, the gun jammed. He doesn't explain the momentous beating Fleming must have gotten due to this attempt. I know my stepfather would have at least cut my balls off for something like that. Regardless, Fleming hopped a train to get away from his family and wound up in Chicago, working for gangsters during Prohibition. The poor kid wound up getting shot for his troubles, and the authorities decided to return him to his father. This happened AT THE AGE OF 11.


Luckily for him, the cops saw how afraid he was of his old man and left him with his mother instead.


Six years later, he ran away from his life of poverty to join the Navy. It was during this time that he wound up getting terribly injured in an accident. Two hundred pounds of steel fell on Fleming's face, completely destroying it. I'm surprised he survived such an accident. It took four plastic surgeries to reconstruct his face, including an eye he thought he was going to lose. From all accounts, he was ugly before, but this actually made him look better. Hollywood better.


Did I mention that he had a club foot that he had to wear a brace for? That would probably explain his life of going barefoot, since shoes tended to fuck with him pretty badly.


He gave acting a shot and got reasonably good success at that. However, I think he would have been happier being a writer. Whenever he wasn't in front of the camera, he was reading a book, which understandably put off other actors on RAWHIDE. Clint Eastwood was wrestling with the other actors--literally--and pulling pranks and generally having a good time, but Fleming was too busy reading. He wrote a couple of episodes of the show.


Fleming clashed with the supposedly creative forces of RAWHIDE often, but it wasn't for his own betterment. It was for all actors. At one point, he made some labor deals which benefited everyone on the cast.


He hated working in front of the camera. He wanted to write novels, and he was planning on doing just that. He had a few contracts to work through, and then he could retire to the home he'd built on RAWHIDE money. All he had to do was get through one last movie role, which he'd scored after being fired from the show that had made him a big name.


(Wrongly, by the way. Even Clint Eastwood, who had publicly feuded with Fleming many times, said that the network was making the wrong choice by firing Fleming and promoting Eastwood to the star of the show. It should be noted that Fleming was approached by Sergio Leone, who wanted an American actor for FISTFUL OF DOLLARS, the first great spaghetti western to ever be made. Fleming, along with other American actors, turned Leone down. However, unlike others, Fleming suggested that Leone might want Eastwood for the role. As all of you know, even my non-horror fans reading this now, Eastwood accepted the deal and became an international star because of his involvement with Leone. (For $15,000, no less!) Because of this moment, we have Academy Award-winning director Clint Eastwood. Instead of getting Eric Fleming as the Man With No Name--who really did have a name, by the way--we got Clint Eastwood, who really was the best choice. However, Eastwood wanted to get out of his CBS contract for RAWHIDE in order to make movies, which is why he suggested that CBS should fire him instead of Fleming. It didn't work out that way.)


Which brings us to the final moment in Eric Fleming's life. You'd think that a guy who suffered as badly as he did would get some sort of reward, right?


According to Charles Marquis Warren, the creator of RAWHIDE, Fleming was "a miserable human being." Greenland goes so far as to say that Fleming agreed with this assessment, calling himself "bitter" and "twisted."


Shortly after being fired from RAWHIDE, Fleming got a job for a movie being filmed in South America. He was filming a scene that should have probably been performed by a stunt man when his boat capsized, and he was dragged down by the undertow.


It is irrefutable that Eric Fleming was devoured by piranha. However, no one knows if he drowned first or was eaten alive.


I desperately hope that he drowned first, but from all accounts, he was very athletic. He was an able swimmer.


I personally think the piranha killed him.


I hope for his sake that I'm not right. I can't stand the idea of someone like him, abused from his earliest moments on this planet, dying in such a hard way.


He was forty-one and the first RAWHIDE actor to die.


I feel a great deal of kinship toward him. I hope his passage from this world wasn't as hard as I think it was.


But I know his luck was shit. From what I could tell . . . I can't say it.


If there's an afterlife--and I highly doubt there is--I hope Eric Fleming has found some kind of reward there.