True Classics, one the most loved classic film destinations in existence, has dedicated the month of June to a “Movie Memories” blogathon. I am thrilled to be able to participate in this wonderful event, the aim of which is to get classic film lovers share their favorite classic film memories. My memory is, admittedly, dysfunctional, but it comes from the heart and I hope that it does justice to True Classics webmistress Brandie– a woman who, by the way, is one of the most inspirational people I have the pleasure of being acquainted with.
The first in a series examining classic Hollywood’s onscreen nightlife. Our first stop on this classic Hollywood pubcrawl: the 1930s. Break out the Benjamin’s.
Come with me and we’ll attend their jubilee, and see them spend their last two bits . . . puttin’ on the ritz.
When Fred Astaire sang about puttin’ on the ritz, it was no doubt the grand, elegant world that was the 1930s nightclub. And for film fans today, those top hats, white ties and tails (not to mention feather dresses, and diamond tiaras) are enshrined forever in silver nitrate shimmer. If you’re reading this, I’d reckon it a safe bet to say you have at one time or another you’ve wished to be whisked away on that lovely cloud of black and white to that impossibly beautiful dream world.
Here’s the thing. It takes a veritable army of people to make a film. We spend $15 for two hours of entertainment, while cast, crew and everyone from craft services to construction workers labor for weeks and months on end– for the writers, producers and directors, the time could stretch to a year and beyond. And yet, when the film is over, there is more or less and immediate stampede for the exit. Especially if you’ve finished that extra large diet coke from the concession stand.
And … that’s kinda not cool. Read more ►
The Pictorial is both pleased and honored to present a tender, candid tribute to the late, great Deanna Durbin, from guest writer Nic Emiliano Santiago. Durbin, who passed away last week at the age of 91, was one of the last surviving movie stars of the 1930s and was a childhood favorite of mine and I had wanted to do something special to celebrate her life and career, but after chatting with Nic about her passing I realized that any attempt on my behalf to truly honor her legend would fall woefully short of what he would be able to bring to the table.
Durbin was his all-time favorite movie star, and his lifelong affection for her is beautifully put to pen in this moving memoir that demands your immediate attention.
Thank you, Nic, for sharing your story with us.
I’m stepping out, my dear, to breathe an atmosphere that simply wreaks of class. – Fred Astaire, Top Hat
A strange phenomenon occurs in Hollywood each spring. For just four days in April, this seedy old three-ring circus of a town transforms itself into a fleeting, gossamer shadow of its former celluloid self. Even the freakish ‘characters’ and scantily clad teenagers that proliferate the Boulevard have no power over the TCM Classic Film Festival’s thrillingly tangible time trip. L.A.’s swankiest pool is accentuated by a jazz quartet; elegantly dressed guys and dolls raise bubbly in celebration; old friends embrace, new friends shake hands, and all of them share the story of their personal journey to Hollywood for this: the annual celebration of all things classic.
Vanity Fair coined it as “Comic-Con for the Martini Set.” And … it’s true. Read more ►