(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on August 25, 2026)
I tell you there will always be music
As long as there’s a story to be told
There will always be music
‘Cause music is the voice of the soul
There will always be music
-from “There’ll Always be Music”, written by Dolly Parton
In my 2022 review of the documentary Leonard Cohen: A Journey, A Song, I wrote:
Several years ago, I saw Tom Jones at the Santa Barbara Bowl. Naturally, he did his cavalcade of singalong hits, but an unexpected moment occurred mid-set, when he launched into Leonard Cohen’s “Tower of Song”. Jones’ performance felt so intimate, confessional and emotionally resonant that you’d think Cohen had tailored it just for him. When Jones sang, I was born like this, I had no choice/I was born with the gift of a golden voice, I “got” it. Why shouldn’t Tom Jones cover a Cohen song? I later learned “Tower of Song” has also been covered by the likes of U2, 8Nick Cave, and The Jesus and Mary Chain. A truly great song tends to transcend its composer, taking on a life of its own. The reasons why can be as enigmatic as the act of creation itself.
Today, we lost the composer of many, many “truly great songs”. In fact, Dolly Parton wrote an estimated total of 3,000 songs over her lifetime, 450 of which she officially released (the only other artist I can think of who comes close is Prince, who reportedly had several thousand unreleased songs languishing in the vaults when he died).
Dolly Parton was, of course, much more than a singer-songwriter, and the tributes have been pouring in accordingly. Digby summarized Dolly’s legacy beautifully earlier today:
She was an international superstar, a national treasure, an icon, a brilliant songwriter, and a true mensch in every way.
I think of her and Willie Nelson as the two symbols of the best of America, representing the heart and soul without all the strife and hate. They both managed to evade the politics and culture war nonsense and just be beloved by everybody because of the sheer force of their inherent decency and talent. And of the two, Dolly is the one who most openly put her money where her mouth was with everything from books and library programs for poor kids to the development of the COVID vaccine. She had strong principles and lived by them, but, miraculously, without making enemies along the way.
Amen.
Back to how a great song can transcend its composer. Assuming you are familiar with Whitney Houston’s take on “I Will Always Love You”, here are interpretations of 10 Dolly Parton songs that stay on message throughout a diversity of genres from country to skate punk; proving beyond a doubt that Dolly’s music is indeed “the voice of the soul”.
(Originally posted at Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 13, 2026)
Considering the complexity of the topic, it’s amazing how much ground this documentary (directed by Barbara Attie, Janet Goldwater andMike Attie) covers in 95 minutes. The film examines how abortion has been depicted in TV shows and films over the 50+ years since Roe vs. Wade (let’s not mention 2022).
The starting point is the groundbreaking 1972 2-part episode of Norman Lear’s sitcom Maude, in which the 47 year-old lead character deals with a surprise pregnancy (“Maude’s Dilemma”). Other touchstones include Dirty Dancing and Juno (my 2007 review).
As you watch a plethora of clips, you realize that, more often than not, it’s been a case of the tail wagging the dog; and at times the misinformation approaches Reefer Madness-level hysteria. There are no easy solutions to resolving the polarization on this issue; and the filmmakers wisely don’t try to provide any. However, they do offer food for thought, which will hopefully encourage some productive dialog.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on April 11, 2026)
I swear, Paul is everywhere, man. This documentary premieres on BBC-2 tonight:
Damn, I wish I could get BBC-2 here in the colonies; that’s right in my wheelhouse (yes, I know there are various “ways” to tap into the live feed, but I get the impression they all involve hoisting the pirate flag to the toppermost of the poppermost before setting sail).
Oprah shared a great Macca story with Stephen Colbert this week:
Playing the first of two nights at the Fonda Theatre in Hollywood Friday night, Paul McCartney acknowledged the tiered arrangement that had VIPs up in the balcony and the hoi polloi down on the floor. “Hello, you people upstairs, in the posh seats,” he said early in the show, and then, “You poor people down here have gotta stand up.” It almost seemed as if he might be alluding to a similar, famous speech given when the Beatles played for British royalty in 1963 — “The people in the cheaper seats, clap your hands, and the rest of you, if you’d just rattle your jewelry.” That was John’s thing, back then, but leave it to both Beatles to have a bemused sense of class consciousness.
Of course, when the world’s most celebrated living musician is playing at a 1,200-capacity venue, everyone in attendance is feeling like a VIP. Maybe most of all those on the floor, who, perhaps more to the point, had reason to feel like lottery winners. While there were some guest-listers at ground level as well, most of those in attendance had made it through a system in which they pre-registered with AXS and were selected for the opportunity to purchase $200 tickets (or a more expensive tier with exclusive merch bags). […]
Although they also got the chance to buy freshly minted merch with the logo of his forthcoming album, “The Boys of Dungeon Lane,” he did not premiere anything from that impending set, nor even play “Days We Left Behind,” which was just released Thursday as his first new single in five and a half years.
McCartney did mention “Days We Left Behind,” which led to the expectation he was about to play the nostalgic ballad, before he set the crowd straight. “We’re in the process of learning it, so don’t ask us to do it” he said, going on to explain what was giving him a little trouble in getting it down for live purposes. “And it’s in B, but I wrote it in C, but for some reason it’s in B.. I said, no, too much for me!” he quipped, apparently writing the disparity off as an Andrew Watt thing. Nonetheless, there were appreciative shouts about the new song, and McCartney replied, “I’m glad you love it.”
The new single is quite lovely, actually:
I daresay, at 83, Paul is starting to act his age:
Looking back at white and black
Reminders of my past
Smoky bars and cheap guitars
But nothing built to last
[CHORUS] Nothing ever stays
Nothing comes to mind
No one can erase
The days we left behind
See the boys of Dungeon Lane
Along the Mersey shore
Some of them will feel the pain
But some were meant for more
[CHORUS]
[BRIDGE] We met at Forthlin Road
And wrote a secret code
To never be spoken
I stand by what I said
The promise that I made
Will never be broken
[CHORUS]
In the skies, the skylarks rise
Above the sounds of war
Since that day, I knew they’d stay
With me for evermore
He had me at “…along the Mersey shore”.
Then there’s the new Wings doc that recently dropped on Prime Video:
Yeah, I know…this poor bloke doesn’t get enough coverage. That said, Morgan Neville’s intimate, candid portrait is an absorbing watch; beginning with the dissolution of the Beatles and covering the entire span of Wings’ history (1971-1981). The story of Paul and Linda’s relationship instills the film with a deeply emotional resonance. Worthwhile for fans.
Oh…and Sir Paul will be the musical guest on SNL on May 16th.
You can “OK Boomer” me until the troops come home, but as fucked-up as the world is right now (and on so many levels)…the fact that NASA is back on trackand Paul McCartney has released a new one assures me that somewhere, out there in the ether…hope remains for humanity.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on December 15, 2025)
He may be rude, but he speaks for me:
As a young kid whose parents didn’t care what I watched, I loved All in the Family. And I didn’t see Rob Reiner’s Michael Stivic as Archie Bunker did, as “Meathead.” I was inspired by Michael’s passion and activism. I wanted to be like him because it pissed off the Archie Bunkers.
Not unlike the rude fella, I was first exposed to All in the Family at an impressionable age; I was 14 years old when it premiered in 1971. I may not have fully grasped all the sociopolitical undercurrents running through Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin’s groundbreaking sitcom (which went on to run for 9 seasons and achieve “classic” status) but I instinctively glomed onto Michael Stivic as my hero.
The funny thing about actors is, they act for a living. More often than not, the character you see on the screen doesn’t necessarily reflect the person portraying that character (“never meet your idols”, and all that). However, as it turned out, “Michael Stivic” was largely simpatico with the actor portraying him, Rob Reiner. I’m referring to the “passion and activism” mentioned at the top of my post:
In a world where fewer and fewer people concern themselves with the plight of others, the loss of Rob Reiner, who cared deeply about humanitarian causes, feels that much more devastating. RIP: 1947-1925.[Selfie: July 2022, NYC]
Two of Reiner’s biggest political contributions were his work in defending marriage equality and establishing critical child development programs.
Reiner co-founded the American Foundation for Equal Rights in 2008 to help fight against California’s Proposition 8, which banned same-sex marriage in the state.
Reiner helped spark the court challenge of Prop 8, leading to a 2010 trial that preceded the Supreme Court’s landmark 2015 ruling in Obergefell v. Hodges, which legalized same-sex marriage at the federal level.
While speaking about the importance of his fight against Prop 8, Reiner invoked the civil rights case Brown v. Board of Education.
“We don’t believe in separate but equal in any other legal position except this,” Reiner said in 2011, referring to same-sex marriage. “We feel that this is the last piece of the civil rights puzzle being put into place.” […]
His work extended beyond LGBTQ+ rights; Reiner was also a fierce advocate for children. In 1998, Reiner led the campaign to pass California’s Proposition 10. The initiative formed First 5 California, a collection of childhood development services in the state funded by a tobacco tax. Reiner served as the organization’s first chair for seven years, from 1999 to 2006.
“Nobody did more to create universal preschool in California,” political consultant Roy Behr, who worked with Reiner on the campaign to pass Prop 10, told PEOPLE. “Literally tens of thousands (maybe even hundreds of thousands) of kids got access to preschool entirely because of him.”
Reiner also proposed California’s Proposition 82 in 2006, which would have raised taxes on the wealthiest residents in order to fund free preschool for all 4-year-olds in the state. The proposition failed to pass, though his suggestion to tax the rich as a means for expanding government services has became a popular element of the progressive platform in recent years.
Just another one of those Hollywood lefty busybodies.
His acting credits are numerous. Previous to All in the Family, his appearances include Enter Laughing (his 1967 acting debut, and father Carl’s directorial debut), and the 1970 cult comedy classic Where’s Poppa (another Carl Reiner film). He appeared (uncredited) in Steve Martin’s 1979 comedy The Jerk, and had memorable supporting roles in Throw Momma From the Train, Postcards From theEdge, Sleepless in Seattle, Bullets Over Broadway, and Primary Colors.
He also directed a film or two you may have heard of. He was on a roll in the 80s, delivering five exceptional films in a row: This is Spinal Tap, The Sure Thing, Stand by Me, The Princess Bride and When Harry Met Sally. His streak waned a bit in the 90s, nonetheless that decade yielded three more gems: Misery, A Few Good Men, and The American President.
Reiner co-founded Castle Rock Entertainment in 1987, an independent television and film production company. In addition to a number of Reiner’s own films, the company’s canon includes City Slickers, Year of the Comet, In the Line of Fire, Barcelona, The Shawshank Redemption, Before Sunrise, Lone Star, Waiting for Guffman, The Last Days of Disco, The Green Mile, Best in Show, Before Sunset, The Salton Sea (a 2002 neo-noir that needs more love) and Michael Clayton.
Glancing at his filmography, I have some catching up to do; with the exception of his wonderful 2023 documentary Albert Brooks: Defending My Life, I’ve somehow missed his entire output since 1996’s Ghosts of Mississippi. As fate would have it, his final directorial project, Spinal Tap II: The End Continues is currently sitting in my DVR, waiting to be watched (it just dropped on HBO/MAX this week).
Speaking of “the Tap”, my favorite Rob Reiner joint will forever and always be his 1984 directorial debut, This is Spinal Tap.
Reiner co-wrote this mockumentary with Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer and Michael McKean, who play Spinal Tap founders Nigel Tufnel (lead guitar), Derek Smalls (bass) and David St. Hubbins (lead vocals and guitar), respectively (several actors portray the band’s revolving door of drummers, who tend to meet untimely ends such as spontaneous combustion, “a bizarre gardening accident”, and perhaps most famously, choking on “somebody else’s vomit”).
Reiner casts himself as “rockumentary” filmmaker Marty DiBergi (a goof on Martin Scorsese, who similarly interjected himself into The Last Waltz) who accompanies the hard rocking outfit on a tour of the states (“their first in six years”) to support the release of their new LP “Smell the Glove” (DiBergi has been a fan since first catching them at the “Electric Banana” in Greenwich Village in 1966).
By the time the film’s 84 minutes have expired, no one (and I mean, no one) involved in the business of rock ’n’ roll has been spared the knife-musicians, roadies, girlfriends, groupies, fans, band managers, rock journalists, concert promoters, record company execs, A & R reps, record store clerks…all are bagged and tagged.
Nearly every scene has become iconic in muso circles; ditto the plethora of quotable lines: “These go to eleven.” “I mean, it’s not your job to be as confused as Nigel.” “You can’t really dust for vomit.” “It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever.” “No…we’re NOT gonna fucking do ‘Stonehenge’!” “We’ve got armadillos in our trousers-it’s really quite frightening.”
The great supporting cast includes Tony Hendra (who steals all his scenes as the band’s prickly manager, clearly modeled after Led Zeppelin’s infamously fearsome handler Peter Grant), Bruno Kirby, Ed Begley, Jr., Fran Drescher, Parick Macnee, June Chadwick, Billy Crystal (“C’mon…mime is money!”), Howard Hesseman, Paul Shaffer, and Fred Williard.
So if you are looking for one Rob Reiner film to watch tonight in memoriam, I say go for the sights, the sounds…and the smells of this joyous romp. And as for your off-screen time…follow the advice someone offered on BlueSky today:
In a world full of Archie Bunkers, be a Meathead.R.I.P. Rob Reiner
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 13, 2025)
The 77th Primetime Emmy Awards will be held this Sunday night (broadcast live on CBS and Paramount + at 5 pm PST). Being, as I am, a lifetime member of the “television generation” who (to quote from Paddy Chayefsky’s Network) learned about Life from Bugs Bunny, I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve only watched 2 of this year’s nominated drama and comedy series (HBO’s The Last of Us and Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building) and a smattering of the nominated talk/scripted variety series (The Daily Show, Last Week Tonight, and SNL).
Consequently, despite being the designated pop culture guy around these parts, I am hardly qualified to offer up my “predictions” for all the category winners. So, I won’t.
With the infinite amount of streaming platforms, bundling options, and on-demand “content” to choose from …are the Emmys even relevant anymore? I remember sifting through the latest TV Guide and drawing up a viewing plan for the upcoming week with the square-jawed commitment of a field general strategizing troop deployment. I also kept extra Reynolds Wrap on hand to enhance reception. But that was a long, long time ago.
While I have a traditional cable package, often I find myself slipping into streaming-fed niche obsessions. Currently, it’s international crime procedurals on MHz and PBS Masterpiece, with a predilection for Nordic Noir. If you really must pry (“I must! I must!”) I have also been bingeing The Saint and Peter Gunn on Prime Video. So it goes.
Oh, I’ll still DVR Sunday night’s ceremony; I have a couple shows to root for, and it’s inherently fun to watch award shows (speaking for myself). I’m feeling magnanimous, so I’ll share my DVR playback strategy. If you wait 50 minutes to start watching your recording, you can zip past most of the commercial breaks and still catch up in real time about 20 minutes before the telecast wraps (this system also works for the Academy Awards, and you’re welcome).
In the meantime, please enjoy this (late) Summer re-run.
Diamonds in the idiot box: Top 20 TV themes
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 14, 2022)
I’m taking a break from sticky floors and stale popcorn tonight to share my favorite TV show themes. It began as a “top 10” list, but I quickly gleaned that I had assigned myself a fool’s errand with that limitation. So I upped the ante to 15. Then 20 (damn my OCD!).
The Adventures of Pete and Pete – Nickelodeon’s best-kept secret, and a guilty pleasure. Gentle anarchy in the Bill Forsyth vein. I discovered, watched, and occasionally re-watch favorite episodes as an (alleged) adult. You can’t resist the hooks in Polaris’ theme.
Cheers – “Norm!” Gary Portnoy performed (and co-wrote) this upbeat show opener.
Coronet Blue – When I was 11, I became obsessed with this noir-ish, single-season precursor to the Bourne films. This theme has been stuck in my head since, oh…1967?
Due South – Paul Haggis’ unique “fish out of water” crime dramedy about a Canadian Mountie assigned to work with the Chicago P.D. was one of my favorite shows of the 90s (confession: I own all 4 seasons on DVD). It also had a great theme song, by Jay Semko.
Hawaii Five-O – The Ventures were the original surf punks (and they’re from Tacoma!).
M*A*S*H – Johnny Mandel’s lovely chart (ported from Robert Altman’s 1970 film, sans Mike Altman’s lyrics) is quite melancholic for a sitcom-but it spoke to the show’s pathos.
The Mary Tyler Moore Show – This ever-hopeful tune plays a bit wistfully now that Ms. Moore has shuffled off, but hey-as long as we have syndication, we’ll always have Mary.
Mission Impossible – Argentine jazz man Lalo Schifrin (who passed away earlier this year) hit the jackpot with this memorable theme (he composed some great movie soundtracks too, like Cool HandLuke). Legendary “Wrecking Crew” bassist Carol Kaye really lays it down here.
The Monkees – Here’s the cosmic conundrum that keeps me up nights: Mike Nesmith was my favorite Monkee…yet the Monkees remain Mike Nesmith’s least favorite band.
The Office (BBC original series) – For my money, nobody tops future Atomic Rooster lead singer Chris Farlowe’s soulful 1967 take on this oft-covered Mike d’Abo composition, but this nice rendition by Big George obviously struck Ricky Gervais’ fancy.
Peter Gunn – Henry Mancini was a genius, plain and simple. Wrote hooks in his sleep.
Portlandia – Somehow, stars Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein (along with series co-creator/director Johnathan Krisel) mined 7 seasons of material by satirizing hipster culture. Like any sketch-comedy show, it’s hit-and-miss, but when it hits a bullseye, it’s really funny. It’s easy to fall in love with Washed Out’s atmospheric dream pop theme.
Rawhide – “Move ‘em on! Head ‘em up!” This performance explains why Mel Brooks enlisted Frankie Laine to sing the Blazing Saddles theme. I’m afraid this squeezed Bonanza off my list (I’m sure I will be verbally bull-whipped by some of you cowpokes).
Secret Agent Man – This Johnny Rivers classic opened U.S. airings of the U.K. series Danger Man (which had a pretty cool harpsichord-driven instrumental theme of its own).
The Sopranos – For 7 years, Sunday night was Family night in my house. Fuhgettaboutit.
Square Pegs – This short-lived 1982 comedy series (created by SNL writer Anne Beatts) was, in hindsight, a bellwether for the imminent John Hughes-ification of Hollywood. Initially a goofy cash-in on New Wave/Valley Girl couture, it has become a cult favorite.
The Twilight Zone – It’s the Twilight Zone “theme”, but it’s not so much conventional composition as it is avant-garde sound collage (ahead of its time, like the program itself).
Weeds – I suspect many of the show runners of this outstanding Showtime dramedy weren’t even born when Malvina Reynolds recorded this song; but its cheeky social satire is a perfect match.
The Wire – This lauded HBO series is a compelling portmanteau of an American city in sociopolitical turmoil. The Blind Boys of Alabama’s urban blues hits just the right notes.
WKRP – I’ve worked in broadcasting since Marconi, so trust me when I say that this sitcom remains the most accurate depiction of life in the biz. Tom Wells composed the breezy theme, show creator Hugh Wilson wrote the lyrics, and Steve Carlisle performs it.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 18, 2024)
Lester Bangs defined ‘punk’ as “…a fundamental and age-old Utopian dream: that if you give people the license to be as outrageous as they want in absolutely any fashion they can dream up, they’ll be creative about it…and do something good besides.” That philosophy informed the programming for Scala cinema, where the audience was as outrageously transgressive as the film fare. Ditto Jane Giles and Ali Catterall’s documentary, which earns a 3 “Fuck off” rating!
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 11, 2024)
“Raaay-neeEER-BEEERrrrr….” If you lived in Alaska or the Northwest in the 70s and 80s, you’ll “get” that-and likely start chuckling. That said, you don’t have to have lived in Alaska or the Northwest to get a chuckle out of Isaac Olsen’s documentary. Olsen recounts the origin of the small (and unconventional) Seattle ad agency led by madmen Terry Heckler and Gordon Bowker that dreamt up a series of now-iconic Rainier Beer TV ads. A many-tendrilled odyssey indeed, with some unexpected sidebars (like cross-pollination with the inception of the Starbucks empire, and the story behind Mickey Rooney’s involvement with the campaign). A fascinating, entertaining look at the process behind the creative side of marketing, bolstered by a generous helping of the original TV ads.
“Without TCM, classic movies will die and with them, part of our culture.”
-from the “TCM Mantra”
In 1994, media mogul Ted Turner launched Turner Classic Movies, a commercial-free subscription channel dedicated to airing uncut classic and deep-catalog films ranging from the silent era to the early 80s. At the time of its inception, TCM’s only real “competitor” in the cable market was American Movie Classics, which operated under a very similar programming philosophy.
However, by the early 2000s, AMC (for assorted business reasons) was interrupting film presentations with commercial breaks; and once the channel went down that road, they were soon kowtowing to ad agency and sponsor demands – e.g., being pressed to incorporate more contemporary films into their programming. By default TCM was now the sole haven for classic film buffs on cable TV.
Consequently, over the ensuing years TCM has built a sizeable, passionate, and fiercely loyal coterie of fans (myself among them), as well as a (mostly) genial social media community (we’re not unlike the Deadheads; albeit more Ty Power than tie-dyed).
It’s not every day that Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, and Paul Thomas Anderson team up. But IndieWire has learned they will today: The three directors have scheduled an emergency call with Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav about the layoffs of Turner Classic Movies’ top brass. […]
The network laid off much of its leadership [on June 20th ], including executive VP and general manager Pola Changnon; senior VP of programming and content strategy, Charles Tabesh; VP of brand creative and marketing Dexter Fedor; VP of enterprises and strategic partnerships Genevieve McGillicuddy, who also served as the director of the annual TCM Film Festival; and VP of studio production Anne Wilson.
These people were responsible for everything from curating lineups, to shooting intros and outros, and for creating original shows, documentaries, and video essays that serve as major contributions to American cultural history.
Scorsese has often said he has Turner Classic Movies on all day in the background when editing his movies with Thelma Schoonmaker. “It gives me something to turn to, to bounce off of, to rest in, to reinvigorate my thinking — just glancing at some image or combination of images at a certain moment,” Scorsese told the Los Angeles Times of his favorite network. “It’s more like a presence in the room, a reminder of film history as a living, ongoing entity.
Spielberg appeared at the last two TCM Film Festivals and in multiple TCM documentaries. Paul Thomas Anderson also was at the festival this year; in that same LA Times article, he called the network “holy ground.” […]
These cuts come as WBD CEO David Zaslav recites what’s become his rosary: He wants Warner Bros. to be a studio for filmmakers. He wants to build bridges with directors who were burned by the previous regime under Jason Kilar, who responded to the pandemic with a unilateral move for day-and-date releases on HBO Max.
If you’re like me, you’re thinking, “I just wanna be left alone to watch The Third Man on my couch in peace while I enjoy a pizza. What’s with all these corporate shenanigans?”
In brief: TCM’s tie-in with Warner dates from 1996, when Turner Broadcasting System merged with Time-Warner. That put TCM and Warner Brothers Entertainment under the same corporate overseers. Then in 2019, Time-Warner was acquired by AT&T, which renamed the company “WarnerMedia”. In 2022 (almost done) following its spin-off by AT&T, WarnerMedia merged with Discovery, Inc. Hence: TCM currently serves at the pleasure of the CEO of Warner Brothers Discovery; that position is currently held by Mr. David Zaslav.
Am I getting through to you, Mr. Beale?
You get up on your little twenty-one-inch screen and howl about America and democracy. There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM, ITT, and AT&T, and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today.
– from Network (1976), screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky
Anyway, the reaction to this news on Film Twitter was swift and heartfelt:
Along with the established classics that continue to inspire actors, filmmakers, and historians, #TCM shows pre-codes, B-level noir, short subjects from comedy to travelogue, cartoons, B-westerns, silents, etc. We can't lose access to all of that important film history. #SaveTCMpic.twitter.com/4kPtlSyxjb
I just ran into a checker at the grocery store who loves @tcm. I gave her a box set of THIN MAN movies, and since then, we always talk abt what’s been on TCM.
She hadn’t heard about the layoffs—when I told her just now, she said "….I don’t know what I’m going to do." #SaveTCMpic.twitter.com/zna1ukdKlI
And while I would certain subscribe to a streaming service, streaming means we lose that thing where you didn't know you needed or wanted to see the film until it was on TCM. Scrolling through menus is great, like shopping, but different. https://t.co/xlMAxb21Lk
Out of my nearly 4,000 DVD/Blu-ray collection, over half are DVD-R copies sourced from TCM broadcasts (for private use only…and yes, I've been a legit, paying cable customer since the mid-1980s). In light of what's going on at TCM, I suddenly feel like a film preservationist.
Speculation continues to rage regarding what the management shakeup portends for TCM; but this breaking news from across the pond did little to allay “worst case scenario” fears:
It’s the end of an era for the British television landscape: Turner Classic Movies (TCM) UK, widely known as TCM Movies and a cornerstone for film enthusiasts, is preparing for its final act.
This dedicated channel, which has showcased the rich filmographies of Turner Entertainment and Warner Bros., is set to close its curtains on July 6, 2023, marking a poignant farewell for UK’s classic movie lovers.
This sombre news comes amidst a backdrop of global uncertainty for TCM. Across the Atlantic, the future of the American TCM channel hangs in the balance following recent layoffs announced by Warner Bros. Discovery.
As the UK prepares to say goodbye to its beloved classic film channel, the struggle to preserve its American counterpart underscores the ongoing challenges and importance of maintaining the legacy of classic cinema worldwide.
Forgive me, I’m going to curse in “UK” now. Bugger bollocks bloody hell (I feel better).
Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav is attempting to calm the waters after stirring up a storm over Turner Classic Movies earlier this week. Zaslav is moving oversight of the channel to Warner Bros. Pictures bosses Michael De Luca and Pamela Abdy, sources with knowledge of the situation tell The Hollywood Reporter.
The move is meant to reassure the film community after WBD announced a restructuring this week that saw TCM chief Pola Changnon exit after 25 years, along with key team members. […]
According to sources, putting TCM under the auspices of De Luca and Abdy — executives who are well regarded in the film community — will satisfy Spielberg, Scorsese and Anderson. The hope is the trio will be involved in curating for the channel. It’s unclear at this stage if any of the TCM staff who departed earlier this week could return, but sources say WBD is prepared to spend more money on the channel and will not consider selling it.
The key word is “curating”. Because I think the programming philosophy that informs an enterprise like Turner Classic Movies has deep roots in the repertory houses that have all but disappeared. In a 2017 piece about the death of the “neighborhood” theater, I wrote:
Some of my fondest memories of the movie-going experience involve neighborhood theaters; particularly during a 3-year period of my life (1979-1982) when I was living in San Francisco. But I need to back up for a moment. I had moved to the Bay Area from Fairbanks, Alaska, which was not the ideal environment for a movie buff. At the time I moved from Fairbanks, there were only two single-screen movie theaters in town. To add insult to injury, we were usually several months behind the Lower 48 on first-run features (it took us nearly a year to even get Star Wars).
Keep in mind, there was no cable service in the market, and VCRs were a still a few years down the road. There were occasional midnight movie screenings at the University of Alaska, and the odd B-movie gem on late night TV (which we had to watch in real time, with 500 commercials to suffer through)…but that was it. Sometimes, I’d gather up a coterie of my culture vulture pals for the 260-mile drive to Anchorage, where there were more theaters for us to dip our beaks into.
Consequently, due to the lack of venues, I was reading more about movies, than watching them. I remember poring over back issues of The New Yorker at the public library, soaking up Penelope Gilliat and Pauline Kael; but it seemed requisite to live in NYC (or L.A.) to catch all these cool art-house and foreign movies they were raving about (most of those films just didn’t make it out up to the frozen tundra). And so it was that I “missed” a lot of 60s and 70s cinema.
Needless to say, when I moved to San Francisco, which had a plethora of fabulous neighborhood theaters in 1979, I quickly set about making up the deficit. While I had a lot of favorite haunts (The Surf, The Balboa, The Castro, and the Red Victorian loom large in my memory), there were two venerable (if a tad dodgy) downtown venues in particular where I spent an unhealthy amount of time in the dank and the dark with snoring bums who used the auditoriums as a $2 flop: The Roxie and The Strand.
That’s because they were “repertory” houses; meaning they played older films (frequently double and triple bills, usually curated by some kind of theme). That 3 years I spent in the dark was my film school; that’s how I got caught up with Francis Ford Coppola, Stanley Kubrick, Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, Hal Ashby, Terrence Malick, Woody Allen, Sidney Lumet, Peter Bogdanovich, Werner Herzog, Ken Russell, Lindsay Anderson, Wim Wenders, Michael Ritchie, Brian De Palma, etc.
[*sigh*] Those halcyon days of power-grazing on repertory theater triple-bills are gone, but for me, TCM is the next-best thing extant. And it would be a damn shame to lose that too. In the meantime, keep fingers crossed-and as TCM presenter /”Czar of Noir” Eddie Muller advised, keep those cards and letters coming, folks.
WHAT CAN WE DO? I have been asked repeatedly this week. If you write to WBD (I'm sure someone will put the emails in the comments) PLEASE express your love for and devotion to TCM. Do NOT succumb to rage or engage in name-calling. That is NO HELP. @tcm@NoirAlley@noirfoundation
Robert Redford recalls in this film, “I had a place in Malibu. I was sitting there, looking out at the ocean, and this woman walks by. What it looked like to me was that she was sad. I said ‘Oh…that’s Mary Tyler Moore.’ And we’d always seen Mary Tyler Moore as this happy, upbeat, wonderful, wonderful character who was full of joy and innocence.”
Famously, what Redford saw in Moore the day of that chance encounter led to him offering her the part of the insular mother in his critically acclaimed 1980 film Ordinary People (a very un-“Mary Richards” character). This dichotomy forms the nucleus of James Adolphus’ documentary, offering an intimate glimpse at a complex woman who, while undeniably groundbreaking and influential, had her share of tragedies, personal demons, and insecurities.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 13, 2023)
I missed “The Star Wars Christmas Special” in 1978…but after seeing Jeremy Coon and Steve Kozak’s documentary, perhaps that’s for the best. Leaving viewers and TV critics aghast, the unintentionally kitschy one-off has since garnered cult status (George Lucas initially OK’d the project but disowned it following the broadcast). The backstory is recounted in a cheeky and entertaining fashion. Warning: this film may trigger nightmares about Bea Arthur tending bar at the Mos Eisley Cantina.
