-ONEOFUS

von am 11. Dezember 2018 um 13:43
Veröffentlicht in: Polemics, Text

ONEOFUS is to be commended for taking the High Road.
We don’t want to bar anyone from being on this planet.
Blessed Kudos are being showered on these idealists
by the Catholic Church.

In these days of rank libertinism, those who take the ethical high road
must be welcomed with open arms,

Here’s that spoilsport Frederick Hunt:
“They want to establish a Renaissance of the backstreet abortion
and bring about a revival of the knitting needle!”

On their agenda of doing good deeds is combating and curing homosexuality.

Frederick Hunt comments again: “How marvelous!
They want to shut down the Catholic Church!”
“Shut up, you spoilsport! Do you have to put a dampener on every good cause?!”

But you can’t shut Fred up. He’s there to oppose decency wherever it shows its beautiful head.

 

– Herbert Kuhner

-Events

von am 10. Dezember 2018 um 12:49
Veröffentlicht in: Politics, Text

The Boy

There’s one photo by Roman Vishniac that is indelible in my mind. A rabbi is teaching a Yeshiva class of young boys. One of the boys has turned and has been caught by the camera before seeing it. The location is a shtetl somewhere in Eastern Europe. That black and white photo seems to glow. There’s warmth between teacher and pupils. And the beatific smile of the boy who is turning is the smile of an angel. There’s no question as to what happened to the kindly rabbi and his class of boys. They didn’t have the money or means for escape. They went the way of East European Jewry. The route they were forced to take ended in the jaws of the juggernaut. They went the way of my Aunt Helena and my Uncles Fritz and Heinrich in the Leopoldstadt. That sweet world of the shtetl and cities like Chernovitz and Lemberg and Jewish sections like the Leopoldstadt of Vienna has been captured by the canvasses of Isidor Kaufmann, the camera of Roman Vishniac and the poems of Else Keren. That world has been trampled underfoot by Nazi hordes and turned to ash by Nazi gangsters and henchmen. That world is no more and it is gone forever. The boy with the beatific smile did not grow up and his world, a world of warmth and kindness went with him, never to return again. The world that followed his is a world where cruelty and barbarity reign untrammeled. The Third Reich may have been defeated in war, but its spirit has left its mark.

Roman Vishniac

 

The End of Fritz

We will gag the impudent Jewish mouth.
– Josef Goebbels

I discovered Kafka, Schnitzler and Zweig in my teens in the Fifties. These great writers took their place among the American, English and French writers that I was reading. As I was relearning German, I read more and more Austrian writers. I read German writers too, but the Austrians were my favorites.

I read their work, but I also read about their lives. That meant reading about tragic circumstances.

When I returned to Austria, I could not avoid being confronted with the reality of the past. Egon Friedell jumped to his death from the balcony of a house across the street in Gentzgasse, where I live. I pass the spot every day.

Gentzgasse_1180 Vienna

Kafka and Schnitzler died before the Third Reich became a reality. Zweig lived to see it, but couldn’t bear the reality of it and ended his life due to it. Just recently I read about Fritz Grünbaum’s fate. I have seen old films of Fritz’s cabaret routines. They are a pleasure for the eyes and ears – and life affirming! Fritz was small and bald, but he had oodles of charm. He was simply a delight.

Fritz Grünbaum

What life Fritz had! He seemed to catch on immediately. He was a man everyone liked – except the National Socialists.

Fritz did not manage to emigrate. He had spoofed the Nazis, and they had him on their list. When they marched in, he tried to flee to Czechoslovakia with his wife, but they were sent back at the border. It didn’t take long for the Gestapo to get him.

Life was fine for many Jews in Austria before March of 1938. It was fine for my family too, but during that month life turned into Hell. We got out in July of 1939. And for those who did not get out, Hell only ended with death.

I have to say this. The orders came from above and were unmerciful. But those who carried them out often didn’t need orders. They killed and tormented at random. And their means were “creative.” They thought up the most barbarous and painful manner of torture and murder.

Here is what the SS did to Fritz: He was forced to lie on the floor and ordered to stick his tongue out
while all those present wiped their boots on his mouth.

This was of course symbolic. That tongue and larynx had mocked Hitler and his Gang.

Fritz was shown no mercy. He was not killed on the spot. There was more excruciating suffering in store for him before his death. The utmost cruelty reserved for those whose opposition was public

I say that the guilt of this deed can never be expunged. If there is a Hell and the monsters who committed it are in it, no Hell could ever cause more suffering than Fritz Grünbaum underwent. And he was not the only one. He was one of multitudes

If there is a Paradise, an eternity of bliss could not make up for the suffering caused by such monstrous deeds.
Nor could an Eternity of Hellfire suffice as punishment for the perpetrators.

 

There is nothing more to say

The Past is Not the Past
A team was sent to Turkey by the Royal Saudi Head of State
to kill Jamal Khashoggi, a dissident journalist,
and then to cut him up and dispose of the severed parts.
But that was not enough. They cut him up alive.
Members of our government do not want to hear the tape
of this event because they do not understand Arabic.

Jamal Khashoggi was killed inside the Saudi consulate in Istanbul

– Herbert Kuhner

-Happy Holidays

von am 7. Dezember 2018 um 11:56
Veröffentlicht in: Text

 

Happy Holidays to
Henry the Kiss of Death –
Down Here
and Dick, Ron and John Paul –
Up There,
who were instrumental
in establishing Repressive Right-Wing Regimes
in Central America.

Those fleeing Hell on Earth
are clamoring at the Gates of our Wonderful Country
with its Wonderful Head of State
and getting gassed.

Happy Holidays to all!

 

– Herbert Kuhner

 

-Harry`s Film Impressions (10)

von am 4. Dezember 2018 um 14:51
Veröffentlicht in: Film, Text

Film Oldies

Remember those film oldies! They were handsome and delightful men who were old in the best possible sense. They had gained age with humor, charm and a total lack of bitterness.

There was roly-poly Monty Woolley (the name fit) with his white woolly beard and prickly tweed suit. He was the Man Who Came to Dinner and he straightened out the lives of film characters gently, making them see their errors kindly with a twinkle in his eye.

Then there was square-jawed C. Aubrey Smith who was very British down to his skivvies. Harrumphing English aristocrat with a glint in his eye. But he was versatile; sometimes he showed up as a Scot. He represented the British Empire moral rectitude and kindness. There was nothing superior in the way the moral overtones were presented. He was great at helping to solve mysteries and generally provided the right kind of guiding.

The there was Lewis Stone, senior, figure of authority paternal friend to Greta Garbo and, of course, Judge Hardy, Andy’s father. He was a bit more on the serious side, but you know when his name was on the billboard as a supporting player, the film he was in had to have class and was worth seeing. Like C. Aubrey, he exuded a very positive and unprejudiced form of moral rectitude.

Then there was Edmund Gwenn, the Scotsman. He was a kindly guiding angel. He was in a good mood and he often had a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. And that’s Edmund guiding Roddy McDowell in Lassie Come Home and little Natalie Wood in Miracle on 34th St.

Edmund Gwenn

These handsome men were of course the epitome of the father or grandfather.

I was a kid when I saw them on screen. I knew that I would grow up, grow old and I knew what was at the end of the road. But I expected that in Hollywood films, children like Mickey Ronny and Judy Garland would continue to play kids, that the adult actors I liked like tough guy Alan Ladd and good old Bogey would continue to play adults. And I thought that oldies like Monty, C. Aubrey, Lewis and Edmund would continue to be around to round out the cast.

Hollywood is a place on the map of the world but “Hollywood” is also the world of fantasy.

Of course there came a time, when they could no longer be called upon to take on roles in films. That is one of the facts of life that became a reality to me.

But there is the consolation. They can still be seen in their consoling roles on the late late show.

 

The Art Theaters of Yore

I must have been born a film buff, and at an early age I developed into a foreign film buff.
In Princeton my haunts were the Garden Theater and the Princeton Playhouse. When we moved to Locust Valley the Cove Theater in Glen Cove filled the bill – but not quite. I wanted more than Hollywood.

I was pious in those days, but in spite of my religiosity, I used the Catholic Legion of Decency List of Condemned Films as a guide. This was the section of The Tablet that fascinated me. Since the films were condemned, I thought that there must be something to them. It was my list of films to see.

On trips to New York my mother would take me to the art theaters of yore to see the films that the Legion had banned – but not knowingly. She had no idea where I found out about the films and was pleased that her young son had such sophisticated tastes.

Most of the films were French, and I came to love the musical sound of the language. Those black-and-white masterpieces had some lascivious scenes, and here and there, the briefest flash of a female anatomy zipped across the screen.

I sensed then that these flashes were an integral part of art.

There may have been a flash now and then, but for the most part the condemnation came from a straitlaced rejection of frivolity.

Today, the Legion must be putting together lists ten miles long. Frivolity is a thing of the past; it has been replaced by downright baseness.

In those days, there were Theaters like the Times Theater on 42nd St with its double-feature bills with provocative titles like Bed and Broad and Bottoms Up, but as far as brass tacks were concerned, there wasn’t even a flash. You were better off trying get a bit of nudity with your culture.

I continued to frequent “art” theaters long after reading the Legion list. The black-and-white foreign films of the time were as tasty as a French bread and vin ordinaire.

But with the advent of the Permissive Society and legalized pornography, everything changed. Somehow foreign films lost some of their appeal. Many of the “art” houses of yore were transformed into porno film theaters. You could get more than a glimpse in full color, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was left to the imagination.

Isn’t that befitting? Art and nudity have always been associated with each another. Now nudity is filling the bill.

The art houses cum porno theaters have also gone the way of all flesh. Who needs a theater when you have DVDs?

 

Gangland Mother and Son

In Stephen Frear’s masterpiece The Grifters, John Cusak aka Ray Dillon suffers internal injuries in a trick gone wrong. His mother, Anjelica Huston aka Lily Dillon resolutely gets him to a hospital and sees to it that he is treated.

Annette Benning aka Myra Langtry is Ray’s girlfriend. She’s a grifter too. Her rent is due, but instead of paying, she serves herself up to the greasy landlord and reads a magazine while he tops her.

Lilly has to scram and asks for her son’s savings, which he has on the premises. When he refuses,
there’s a scuffle during which Lily accidentally kills him. Sobbing, she takes the money and runs.

 

to be continued . . .

– Herbert Kuhner

-Harry`s Film Impressions (9)

von am 29. November 2018 um 8:32
Veröffentlicht in: Film, Text

The Horses of Stagecoach

Stagecoach is the classic western based the de Maupassant story, Boule de suif, which is the classic doxy story.

The great Indian chase of the hurtling stagecoach is the most classic scene of this classic film.
The Indians try to pick of the stagecoach driver, his companion rifleman and the passengers in the coach.

The question has always been asked: why don’t the Indians just shoot the horses pulling the stagecoach? The Indians have burned down ranches in the area and done settlers in, but they have a good side: they love horses. They are certainly more humane than the stuntmen riding those poor beasts, who cause them to falter and fall at full speed.

 

Second Fiddles

There were a handful of stars in the Thirties and Forties who were not quite stars in their own right. They were stars who could not carry a film on their own. Their names usually appeared under the name of a top woman star. It seems that second billing was their fate. George Brent, Zachary Scott, Macdonald Carey, Paul Henried, Turhan Bey and Walter Pidgeon were the second fiddles to stars like Bette Davis Joan Crawford. Although these women could carry a film, they could not have been considered to be beautiful. They were the type of women that the woman on the street could identify with. “Woman on the street” is not a good expression for the middle class ladies who frequented dark palatial theaters with hankies at the ready. Woman in the kitchen or woman in the living room would be more suited. Woman in the bedroom would be all-wrong. They needed stars like Bette and Joan to identify with. And it was marvelous for these filmgoers to view women who had made it to the top who were not exquisite beauties. These ordinary-looking stars needed handsome foils, and the male stars who supported them filled the bill.

Walter Pidgeon

Bette Davis had a froggy look, but like many plain women who have charisma, she could, at times, make herself seem attractive. Both Bette and Joan were tough cookies, on and off screen. Joan like Bette, was anything but a beauty. She was mostly photographed face-on in her publicity shots. Like her rival Bette, her eyes were a bit too big, and they were neither luminous nor humorous. Her face, however, was perfectly symmetrical, and the photographers who photographed her brought the quality to the fore.

Bette and Joan were rivals in real life. Robert Aldrich used that reality for his fiction in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. In that film the two didn’t have to act. As hating oldies, they go for each other’s throats with verve and gusto.

George is the doctor who consoles the moribund Bette in Dark Victory, and he’s there with of ornate the empathy and platitudes, as she exits and hankies galore emerge from handbags in the darkened ornate temples.

Zachary is the all-right guy who waits for mercenary and venal Joan to soften up and come around in Mildred Pierce. Mildred changes her ways and Zachary scoops her up in his arms before the fade out.

In Let’s Make It Legal, Macdonald forgets marital intentions toward Claudette Colbert when Marilyn Monroe flutters her eyelids and mesmerizes him with the rippling of her delicious bottom. But as Hollywood would have it, Claudette flutters her saucer eyes and turns on the charm, which she had plenty of and achieves the impossible. She manages to win MacDonald back. He, who was not made of clay, pops the question, while continuing to view Marilyn’s curvaceous masterpiece out of the corner of his eye. Being the good Hollywood soldier that he was, he ties the knot with Claudette, a fate on or off screen that one can only envy him for. But while doing so, he steals a last glance at the curvaceous tuberosties that served as the mainspring of ninety minutes of frothy entertainment.

Paul, with his Viennese charm, his aesthetic facial scar and elegant white suite does get Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, but cynical, tough-guy Bogey wins her heart. Paul was the dashing star of The Spanish Main, an exciting pirate film as well as a couple of others, but his stardom was nipped in the bud by the Senator from Wisconsin, the good old commie chaser, Joe McCarthy. When Paul was able to film again he was too old to pick up where he had left off as a Lothario.

Turhan was another suave supporting star. Like Paul, he came from the best breeding ground for elegant Lotharios, namely Vienna. His genre was the Arabian Nights and he had a gorgeous star to support. Turhan and Jon Hall defended and fought amongst themselves to win the lovely Maria Montez in the East, where there were turbans galore. When Johnny came marching home, that is when the male stars returned from Europe and Japan to Hollywood, the Arabian series came to an end and roles became scarce for Turhan. He then threw in the turban, and then headed back home to Vienna.

Walter Pigeon was the stodgy fuddy-duddy who was hubby to Greer Garson as Madame Curie and Mrs. Miniver. He gave his “Madame” the moral support she needed to research radium and his “Mrs.” to persevere in wartime London.

After the Forties second fiddles went out of fashion. For some reason, which I can’t put my finger on, unbeautiful female stars now carry films on their own. Apparently they no longer need the support of a handsome foil. Now they do their thing without the second-string star who supports them and takes second billing.

 

The Egghead as Heavy

Film villains who played gangsters could make it big like Cagney, Bogey and Edward G. Ditto for villains who played monsters like Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff. Then there was the Erich von Stroheim who was the man you loved to hate. After his career as a director went on the skids, with a little help from himself, the war came as a windfall. He cashed in on propaganda films, along with the newly-arrived emigrés, since Europeans with nasty accents were needed to play Nazi officers.

Erich von Stroheim

The suave upper-crust scion who had a cultural background was the man you couldn’t trust. He invariably had bad intentions, was corrupt to the core, and was the most elegant of villains. The actor who played the role had to resign himself to a rating of supporting player. That was the fate of John Sutton, foil of Tyrone Power in Captain from Castile. Louis Calhern, a boulvardier from Brooklyn, was the big boss and Marilyn Monroe’s sugar daddy in The Asphalt Jungle. John Emery, with his haughty mien and velvety nasal voice, was the heavy having it off with Alan Ladd’s wife in The Blue Dahlia. Another Emery facet was playing turncoat pals, a role that he played to the hilt in The Spanish Main, opposite Paul Henreid. George Macready, was a master in hauteur, who even lent class to his facial scar. He was slinky as Rita Hayworth’s husband in Gilda, and of course, was fated to be bested by Glenn Ford. Henry Wilcoxon, whose name sounds like a jockstrap, was the square with the powdered wig in The Last of the Mohicans. God was he a prig! He just had to be edged out by Randolph Scott. The jocks were, however, the heroes who eventually got the better of these heavies. They were regular guys like Glenn Ford, William Holden and John Payne who showed that good intentions went with a simple homespun American background. Let’s admit it, eggheads are suspicious and the egghead quality doesn’t sell. When an egghead shows up, he’s up to no good and has to be bested by a non-egghead. In the films of the past, there were paltry rewards for those eggheads who played the eggheads.

to be continued . . .

– Herbert Kuhner