Confessions of a FILMFOX

Confessions of a FILMFOX

DEPARTMENTS

A follow-up to the outrageously popular Monty Python And The Holy Grail, entitled simply Monty Python’s New Film, begins shooting in North Africa next month. The TV series runs in 25 countries, and “Python” books are being marketed all over the world.

Fun, fun, fun.

Dateline London: Forget Tommy —The Who’s career over the past 13 years is the subject of an epic $4 mil pic scheduled for release this month. The Kids Are Alright, directed by Jeff Stein, is a compilation of Who films (including Woodstock and early Brit pub gigs), tapes and videos, along with footage from the boys’ special live performance at Shepperton Studios recently.

Richard Hell’s solution to the depressing experience he suffered :>eing a rock staf is to move on to the movies... as an actor?

In search of A1 Jolson.. .Get ready for Neil Diamond, who’s set to mammmmmy his way through the remake of The Jazz Singer.

And speaking of stomach-turning remakes, you’ll never believe this one:

OK, we’ve tolerated Travolta, closed our eyes to Olivia, and burped to the name of Denver. But Tatum O’Neal playing.. .Lolita? Talk has it that Stanley Kubrick’s hot to get Ryan’s baby into the lead role, picking up where Sue Lyon left off.

The much-publicized Sgt. Pepper (one of the many biggies coming your way courtesy of the Robert Stigwood Organization) added yet another name , to its list of impressive guest stars: Aerosmith! (Hmmm.. .could this be EUssa’s big break?)

Record tycoon Lou Adler reportedly “celebrated” his eighth year of separation (but not divorce) from 60’s teen queen Shelley Fabares recently. (Hisliason with Ms. Britt Eldand was a brief case of measles after his bustup with Fabares.) We don’t think Shelley noticed, since her success in TV’s Fern wood Forever keeps her pretty busy, thank you.

The Osmonds went home to Utah to build their own film studio where the Brothers O will serve as exec-producers; so we all know what the movie ratings will be! And that’s good news! The bad news is Donny andMarie threatening to star in a few of these projects. One Osmond corporation member remarked that the studio cameras were ready to roll,

“And all we need is the product.” (Glad we didn’t have to say it.)

You’re beautiful Babe.. .but going broke? Since Margaux Hemingway left her hubby, burger biggie Errol Wetson, she’s said to be shopping around for more'fahem) acting jobs, including the femme lead in producer Gedrge Barrie’s Department Store. (Margaux’s had plenty of experience— as a mannikin!) And if one misplaced Hemingway isn’t enough...

Universal’s trying to pull off yet another bio-pic, this time of Margaux’s grandpappy Ernest, and hints are that beautiful but warty Robert Redford will star.

Ex-Byrd Roger MtGuinn will fly across the screen in Bob Dylan’s soon-to-be-released Renaldo and Clara, along with Joan Baez and the rest of The Rolling Thunder Revue. Sara Dylan, as pajt of the divorce settlement, has requested that her parts of the film be tossed on the cutting room floor.

Even though the return of Star Trek won’t scan your living room ’til later this year-, Paramount’s going ahead with production. The cast remains pretty much the same, except for Leonard Nimoy, who’s still holding out. The absence of Mr. Spock will go (almost) unnoticed, since waiting in the wings is Grace Jones, that six-foot tall black songstress whose shiny shaven dome may well replace old pointed ears for good. "

Happy Days punks Henry Winkler and Ron Howard plan two pics together—Henry to star and Ron to direct. In the meantime, grease meets grease when the Fonz stars as a waiter held captive in a fast food joint in the upcoming Hamburger Heaven'.

An offer we’re glad she refused... Upon cancellation of her own TV show, Nancy Drew’s Pamela Sue Martin was offered a steady job with those Hardy Boys cop tots, Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stevenson. The Boss’ Son, a new feature film on the fall roster, features the unlikely casting of Rita Moreno (the female answer to Capt. Kangaroo), James Darren (who’d rather goose Gidgets than sing) and Richie (Who needs Polident?) Havens. Well, as my friend the waitress atTrini and Carmen’ssays, don’t eat any bum chick peas.

Enough of this frivolity. One item everyone will eat up on is The Complete Junk Food Book (McGrawHillj7 Once author Michael S. Lasky gets past the boring stuff about Diabetes, Obesity and Teeth Like Keith Richard and into his Junk Food Hall Of Fame, you’ll be floating on cloud Oreo. Lasky’s bottom line is that the food contains no vitamin or mineral value whatever, which gives outright cases of nutritional dbom like Sara Lee cheesecake or Granny Goose Thick Potato Chips a head start. An ideal companion piece is Great Songs Of Madison Avenue (Quadrangle), where Peter and Craig Norback reveal guitar, piano, and yes, harmonica arrangements to commercial jingles for McDonald’s, Hawaiian Punch and many more. The possiblities for the home musician are endless, from fearf ur Eno-styled versions of “Take Sominex Tonight” to insightful reading of Pepsi’s immortal song of the early 40’s: “Nickle nickle nickle nickle/Trickle trickle trickle trickle/Nickle nickle nickle nickle.”

Who needs Jackson Browne?

Other pointless texts you won’t want to miss include the Dictionary Of Misinformation by Tom Burnam (Ballantine), which proves once and for all that eunuchs can get boners;

Michael Medved’s Fifty Worst Movies Of All Time (Viking), carefully screened and selected by the author before he was hired to do the screenplay for Black Mama, White Mama II; and The Book Of The Breast (Playboy), where Robert Anton Wilson demonstrates that, according to the laws of physics, Jane Russell cannot exist.

Take it from knock-knock expert Cole: “Rita book, it’ll do you good!”

BOREDOM'S FIRST DECADE

Rolling Stone's 10th Anniversary Show

Rick Johnson

Bette Midler expressed it perfectly as she opened her segment of the Rolling Stone Tenth Anniversary Show: “The tenth anniversary of Rolling Stone— what could be more boring?”

Well, lots of things, actually. A tour of a tongue depressor factory, a meaningful conversation with Mel Tillis, spending the rest of your life on a desert island with Ian Anderson... all of these things could be more boring.

But Stone’s TV gala was indeed pretty dull. While the two long hours passed more quickly than the Industrial Revolution, the pace was so slow that a baby could have crawled up and sucked the director’s thumb. To make matters worse, a total lack of continuity made concentrated viewing about as • easy as beating off while the phone is ringing. Haphazardly programmed (and conceived) segments ran together without any apparent purpose other than setting up the countless hi-fi component blurbs. Love those close-ups of speaker cabihets!

Considering all of the happenings, musical and otherwise, of the decade since the magazine’s inception that the creators of the show had to draw upon, their selection and presentation was single-mindedly unimaginative. A tribute to the Beatles was typical of the fare. Teddy Neeley sings “Magical Mystery Tour” while women with tinfoil antlers chase dancers in waitress uniforms. Somebody in a Richard Nixon costume sings “I’m A Loser” in “Mammy”-position. Richie Havens and Yvonne Elliman team up for “Here Comes The Sun.” Why not? Makes as much sense as Teddy Neeley. After a couple of pints of singing strawberries performed “Strawberry Fields”, you had to wonder why they didn’t bring on a chorus of dancing bidets to sing “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window.”

The non-musical portions of the show were equally uninspired. One particularly useless idea featured Melissa Manchester, Keith Moon and friends discussing Humorous Incidents On The Road. Keith shared some household hints on destroying hotel rooms (“If you stick dead fish in the air-conditioning, the smell permeates the other rooms for months”) but was one-upped by Melissa, who merely hooked up a Memorex tape of the London Blitz to the hotel intercom and leveled the entire building. Other treats included “Sheen’s Not A Punk Rbcker,” Martin Sheen’s reply to the recent Ramones smash, a vaseline-lens film of Lesley Anne Warren squatting on a plumber’s helper, and L. A. Police Chief Ed Davis explaining that he doesn’t like Joan Baez. You and the rest of the world, Ed.

The highlight of the evening was Art Garfunkel cricking his neck into a suitably Garfunkel-like pose, only to find that he couldn’t get it unstuck. Art , trouper that he is, spent the rest of the show pretending he was listening to his shoulder.

Don’t miss the Eleventh Anniversary of Rolling Stone, with Florence Henderson, Paul Lynde, Mitzi McCall, the Statler Brothers and Charo in a musical tribute to the Rolling Stones. I hear they’re already designing the dancing lips.