"We Choose to Go to to Moon..." Apollo 11 at Fifty

I chose a good time to be a little kid.

I was born to be a star child. In the fading echo of a world war, as reluctant allies became cold warriors, artists and scientists and governments, all for their own reasons, looked to the sky.

I was too young to realize that the world tilted on the precipice of annihilation, as two superpowers continued to push all of civilization to the brink.

For the most part I was spared the horrors of racism, thinking that the things that got past my parents' protective filters were anomalies, not the stone cold bigotry of daily life.

And there was a president who looked like a prince and spoke like a poet. 

I did not know that life was much more complicated that looking to the sky.  I took inspiration from President Kennedy's words, and believed anything was possible.

I remember the grainy greytone images of Alan Shepard, the first American in space, a hero who rode Freedom 7 into the heavens and helped put us back in the running for space greatness, after the Soviets made their matinee idol cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin the first in the world.

Ohio's own John Glenn made the first orbital flight for the United States, giving my Buckeye state parents an extra measure of pride.

It really did seem like not even the sky was the limit.

In the time between Kennedy's speech and the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, though, we had more than our share of tragedies.

We lost a President, a Senator and a King to gun violence, the twisted culmination of hatred and intolerance.

The country was torn in two over the Vietnam War: as the death toll continued to mount, our great free press revealed the horrors that were happening in those far away lands.

And Apollo 1, which was to have been the foundation of our final phase of building that rocket to the stars, burned in a freak accident on the launch pad, taking the lives of astronauts Virgil "Gus" Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffee.

So even though I was no longer a starry-eyed kid when the summer of 1969 began, for those of us who came of age in the Age of Aquarius, whose infant memories were informed by Sputnik and Mercury, and then by Gemini and Apollo, this week will always be remembered as when we first stepped among the stars.

On July 16, the crew of Apollo 11 climbed into a cramped capsule atop the launch vehicle, the glorious work of art known as the Saturn V rocket. They were Neil Armstrong, commander; Michael Collins, command module pilot, and; Edwin E. "Buzz" Aldrin, lunar module pilot.

 

 My words weren't eloquent, but I memorialized the occasion in my teenage journal.  In the years since "We choose to go to the moon," I might have been bruised by life, but I still remember the awe, the joy, the wonder I felt.

The four days of the journey to the moon (and, indeed, the full eight days of the mission) were fraught with tension, but I don't recall being afraid that they were not going to make it. I believed in science, I believed in technology, and I believed that a dedicated group of people, working together and committed to a mission, could achieve anything.

It was a while before we knew how close the Eagle had come to running out of fuel on that landing. That's education, experience and training for you!

July 20, 1969
20:17:40 UT
4:17:40 p.m. EDT

And 1:17:40 p.m. PDT where I watched with my family here in California.  We'd all been watching and listening to Walter Cronkite, America's most trusted newsman, as he and astronaut Wally Schirra described the final approach.

And then came the words that triggered a worldwide sigh of relief:

 The images, on that day and later, were astonishing.

I am not as starry eyed as I once was.  I have seen too much of this life to believe that everything is possible, if one is willing to try hard enough.  I know that this amazing enterprise that was the Space Race was motivated by militaristic aims.

But once there was a time when we worked together - including a few women and a few minorities who were still forced to contribute around the edges, the hidden figures of our space program's success.

And what did going to the moon do for us, other than offering bragging rights about building the first steps to the sky?

For a start, I am writing this on a laptop computer that costs a few hundred bucks, but that has far, far more computing power than Apollo 11 did. I can go online and see computer models of weather worldwide.  And I can turn on the GPS in my telephone, a device that fits neatly between my wrist and my fingertips, and get directions to drive from one end of this country to the next - or even from the farthest reaches of North America to the nethermost distances in South America.

From time to time, a new development in science and technology is revealed that staggers the imagination.

All these years later, there is still little wonder in this world.

Thanks, Apollo 11.

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 10

For the first time in my life, someone had made a film for me.

No, not "for children everywhere" - as was the case for those delightful, magical Disney movies I was so fond of, or even for those hilarious, more subversive Warner Brothers' Looney Tunes.

This was a movie for the me I was becoming, a young person who had just lifted her eyes above the horizon of her own immediate existence.

What wonders I found there...

But allow me to digress.

February 9, 1964.

On the night before my birthday, my family (Mom, Dad, my two sisters, my two brothers and I) gathered in the family room for the "Ed Sullivan Show", as we did every Sunday. This night would be special: my "four lads from Liverpool" were on for the first time, on the black-and-white stage of our RCA console television with the wicker doors.

How different my world would be, after Ed Sullivan said, "Ladies and gentleman, The Beatles!"

Six months later, this film was released.  

It was supposed to be a throwaway to capitalize on a short-lived craze, but something funny happened:  a talented writer and a madly creative director first understood, then tapped into the charisma and magnetism of four young men, capturing their charm, their wit and the appeal of the music that still resonates across the world of music fans, five decades later.


"A Hard Day's Night" (1964)
Directed by Richard Lester
Screenplay by Alun Owen
Image: Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr and John Lennon (“The Beatles”)

Montage of the opening credits of "A Hard Day's Night"


I first saw "A Hard Day's Night" accompanied by a chorus of screams that could not have been louder had the lads been live in person at the Washington Theater (later Cinema 21), my neighborhood movie palace. It only cost a quarter to go on the ride of my life.

This film feels like the funniest documentary ever made.  It is, of course, a work of fiction, but I cannot imagine how it would have been possible to capture more perfectly the giddy ecstasy of those early, heady days of Beatlemania. 

It was fun. It was liberating.  It had the poignancy of a time that could not last. It was a blue-moon wonder - so rarely seen, forever memorable.

I never had a chance to see The Beatles in concert, so this film will always stand in as my own personal journey with four lads who changed the world.

 

It is not an exaggeration to say that The Beatles changed my life. I was a kid who barely had two digits in my age, but they opened my eyes to a world beyond my neighborhood, to music that ranged from three chord pop to classical and Indian to psychedelic dreams to social activism, to fashion and culture - and to boys with hair as long as mine.

The first album I bought was "Meet the Beatles" - and I still have it. 

 I still remember those wondrous times when the world was full of possibility and all I needed was love. 

And I still love you (yeah, yeah, yeah), John, Paul, George and Ringo. 

Thanks, lads.

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 9

“The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.”

 
That is how fantasies used to be:   a big, juicy glamor sandwich --- on wry.

Anyone who follows me on Twitter (where my handle is a nod to the “wisecracking gal sidekick”) will not be surprised to see this film on my list. Seventy-nine years on, it sparkles like the finest champagne, and its stiletto-sharp dialogue continues to amuse. 

"The Philadelphia Story" (1940)
Directed by George Cukor
Screenplay by Donald Ogden Stewart, from the stage play by Philip Barry
Image: John Howard (“George Kittredge”), Cary Grant (“C. K. Dexter Haven"), Katharine Hepburn (“Tracy Lord"), James Stewart (“Macaulay 'Mike' Connor")

I grew up at the end of the era of movie stars, just before the rise of the anti-hero and everyman lead. It was a glorious thing to spend a couple of hours in the dark, watching these glamorous fantasies unfold. And as a lover of beautifully crafted language, what a delight to hear this play of words.

The situations were ridiculous and impossible, but it didn't matter. 

Tracy and Dexter, a divorced couple, are brought together in the eve of her new wedding, and her fiance is impossibly unworthy of her (he is "the pill of the century" as famously phrased in another film from this era.)

"Mike", a tabloid newspaper reporter and Elizabeth, a photographer, at once contemptuous of and drawn to the monied social scene, are assigned to cover the wedding.  Instead of grabbing an exclusive, they become a part of the story themselves.

Macaulay "Mike" Connor: ...the rich, rapacious, American female. There's no other country where she exists.
Elizabeth Imbrie (portrayed by Ruth Hussey): And would I change places with Tracy Samantha Lord for all her wealth and beauty? Oh, boy, just ask me.



But, wait - are sparks still flying between Tracy and Dex? 

Dexter: Sometimes, for your own sake, Red, I think you should've stuck to me longer.
Tracy: I thought it was for life, but the nice judge gave me a full pardon.
Dexter: Aaah, that's the old redhead. No bitterness, no recrimination, just a good swift left to the jaw.

And what's going on between Mike and Tracy? 

"A magnificence that comes out of your eyes, in your voice, in the way you stand there, in the way you walk. You're lit from within, Tracy. You've got fires banked down in you, hearth-fires and holocausts."  Mike Connor (James Stewart) to Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn)

Who will she choose?

And, of course, everything works out fine before the final credits.

I loved James Stewart, I loved Cary Grant and I loved Katharine Hepburn, but I knew I wasn't a Tracy Lord. I didn't want to be, nor did I want a C. K. Dexter Haven. I've had a lifetime of fun being Elizabeth Imbrie, making rueful observations – but where's my Macaulay Connor?

Oh, well, I can always find a fine and funny romance in the dream machine. And what a madcap world can be found there!

“We all go haywire at times and if we don't, maybe we ought to.”

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 8

Is it magic?

Is it a dream?

Or is it a deeper truth that surpasses understanding?

Lyrical and majestic, this film has stayed with me since the first viewing. 


"Daughters of the Dust" (1991)
Directed and Written by Julie Dash
Image: Bahni Turpin ("Iona Peazant"), BarbaraO ("Yellow Mary"), Trula Hoosier ("Trula")
 
Julie Dash's "Daughters of the Dust" employs magical realism to explore the story of the Gullah (or Geechee) people living on the Sea Islands of South Carolina. Isolated from many outside influences, the people have retained many aspects of the African cultures from which they were stolen during the time of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Set in 1902, the world is changing, and African Americans in the South have begun the Great Migration north. Who will leave, who will stay, and how much of their culture will remain?

Cora Lee Day, as matriach Nana Peazant, imparts traditional wisdom to The Hair Braider (Vertamae Grosvenor), Yellow Mary (BarbaraO), Haagar Peazant (Kaycee Moore) and Eula Peazant (Alva Rogers)


Writer-director Julie Dash was the first African American woman to have a film put into general release, and at the time I thought that she would become one of our most important film directors. Life - and work opportunities for African American women in the film industry - is more complicated than that. Though she has worked sporadically since this film, her landmark work remains influential. (See: Beyonce, "Lemonade".  Below, images from her longform video are paired with shoots from "Daughters of the Dust".)

Kudos to the glorious cinematography of Arthur Jafa, as well.

"Daughters of the Dust" doesn't take the viewer on a linear, easily explicable journey. It is more complex, more subtle and more ambitious than that. It does not serve the world of art, or the world at large, well that there are so many tales that remain unheard. I urge everyone who is interested in seeing how filmmakers who are outside of the mainstream can expand and enhance the art of film.

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 7

Think back to the time before this became one of the most parodied scenes in movie history. This was one of the most shocking things I had ever seen on screen, the delusions of a deranged mind playing out in real time - all improvised by Robert De Niro. 

Look at his face (the actor, not just the character): there is a beauty about him, and a menace, and a bit of something goofy, and all of these layers of personality and more were brought to this performance. 

The look and the sound of the film, necessitated by a lack of money, became some of its strongest assets: gritty reality on the mean streets and in the cruel back rooms. 

My next film:

"Taxi Driver" (1976)
Directed by Martin Scorsese
Screenplay by Paul Schrader
Image: Robert De Niro (“Travis Bickle”)
 

I am a pacifist who deplores senseless violence, yet I am also a fan of murder mysteries and police procedurals. There is something about gazing into the abyss, through these artistic interpretations of aspects of human depravity, that helps explicate, in the smallest way, actions that can never be fully understood. 

Sexual exploitation, corrupt politicians and the most demented "savior" a city could ever conjur.

Travis is obsessed with saving Iris (Jodie Foster), a child victim of prostitution in the sex trade.

 Travis Bickle (De Niro) with Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), a campaign staffer who is the object of his obsessive fantasies.


And the twist that is the public reaction to Travis' ultimate acts? I gasped out loud. 

An aside: I used to see Robert De Niro in the streets of Westwood Village all the time, back when he lived in Bel Air. One day, I was with my friends, four sisters who were known as the Gilner Girls, at the Falafel King Restaurant in Westwood Village, when De Niro and his friend, the actor Barry Primus, came in, and stood next to us to place their orders. "New York, New York" had just come out, but I recognized Barry from some TV work, too, in shows like "The Streets of San Francisco", so we chatted to him about his career for several minutes, ending with the new film. Barry was so open - friendly and talkative. It was a great conversation.

We'd ignored him deliberately, figuring people fawned over this quiet man all of the time, but I then turned to De Niro (by then a two time Oscar winner) and said, "And you're pretty good, too!" 

I will never forget his hearty laugh.


For more on "Taxi Driver",  a great interview on the making of the film can be found HERE (click link).

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 6

I chose this film on Labor Day.


Never let it be said that you can judge where people will go by where they begin.

She was the star of my kiddie fun, as the giddy surfer girl Gidget and in the lighter-than-air trifle, The Flying Nun. 

And then we both grew up, and she was gritty and fearless and a symbol of how strong a woman can be. 

And she got to be sexy, too, in films with Burt and Garner and others.

Burt Reynolds and Sally Field, "Smokey and the Bandit" (1977)

James Garner and Sally Field, "Murphy's Romance (1985)
 
And through all this, Sally was just getting started.

The "Union" sign photo is from the next film I choose:

"Norma Rae" (1979)
Directed by Martin Ritt
Screenplay by Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank, Jr.
Image: Sally Field ("Norma Rae Webster")

It was wonderful to see the workers win, one by one united behind this tiny little thing who stood tall when it was most needed. It's also good to look back and see how wonderful Beau Bridges and Ron Leibman were, in two of their best roles. 

Starting out in such fluff, Field earned the respect of her acting peers. 

Sally has also become an outspoken ally for the rights of our LGBTQIIA neighbors and friends, inspired by her son Sam, who is gay.

 Honorees Sally Field and son Sam Greisman at the Human Rights Campaign gala, 2012.

And as for me? 

Yeah, I like her. I really like her.

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 5

I have always lived in integrated neighborhoods. For the first half dozen years of my life, I grew up well-insulated from the prejudices and bigotry of American society. It was only after one of my brother James' friends, who played in our yard and was always welcome in our home, called James the N-word and pretended to his grandmother not to know who my brother was when James finally went to *his* house to play, that I began to see what a cruel and divisive place this world could be. 

I had not even noticed that there were few people of color on television and in the movies. There were "Indians" and "Mexicans" and "Chinese" people in the Westerns we loved (often played by white people, though I was too young to even notice). Every week we watched the elegant and sophisticated Nat King Cole, a rare exception to the silly comics. How we loved laughing at Amos and Andy's hi-jinks, and Rochester sure put "Mr. Benny" in his place! And there was often one of my parents' favorites on The Ed Sullivan Show, singing or dancing or promoting a movie. 

In the next few years of my life, I did start to notice that Mom always called us to watch when there was a black person on TV. I recognized, belatedly, that there were precious few people who looked like me in the films and television shows I loved, and most of those who were there were clowns or performers, talented though they were. I had not yet seen "Gone With the Wind" but I knew that Hattie McDaniel had won a Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as the no-nonsense "Mammy" and I knew that (despite what I later learned was a stereotypical role) she had made history. 

And then came the man, the epitome of class, who made history of his own.

"Lilies of the Field" (1963)
Directed by Ralph Nelson
Screenplay by James Poe, from the novel by William E. Barrett
Image: Sidney Poitier (“Homer Smith”)

Our whole family was gathered around the television on April 13, 1964, enjoying the glamor, the gowns and the speeches. I was 11, so I was old enough to have seen a few of the nominated films.

Finally, the Best Actor category was up, filled with a lot of our favorites: Albert Finney ("Tom Jones"), Richard Harris ("This Sporting Life"), Rex Harrison ("Cleopatra"), Paul Newman ("Hud") and Sidney Poitier ("Lilies of the Field"). 

And then Anne Bancroft said, "The winner is Sidney Poitier..." and our household erupted, shouting and cheering. We were SO happy. I had always loved the movies and now I knew it was possible for *me* to make them. I looked at my mother, and she was crying. Representation matters! 

Amen.

Ten Days, Ten Movies, Ten Images: Day 4

I was a strange kid.

One of my favorite things to do after school was to come home and turn on "The Early Show" on local TV.  They played truncated versions of classic movies in the ninety minutes before the evening news.

Black and white films that were as colorful as the rainbow.  Grand sweeping music, clever quips and dancing that defied gravity. Elegance, optimism and romance. I don't know which of the films by these stars I saw first, but I'll always recall that I have been a fan since I was a kid.

The Good Lord Above only knows what drew me to films that were hits when my parents were teens, but I'm glad I inherited that gene.

Look at the lines of the dancers above, the extension, the way the shapes of their bodies are a perfect complement.

It's no wonder this film made my list of images from movies that had an impact on me.

"Follow the Fleet" (1936)
Directed by Mark Sandrich
Screenplay by Dwight Taylor and Allan Scott from the play “Shore Leave” by Hubert Osborne
Image: Ginger Rogers ("Sherry Martin"), Fred Astaire (" 'Bake' Baker")

"Follow the Fleet" is not my favorite Astaire/Rogers film, and this isn't even my favorite of their dances. But "Let's Face the Music and Dance" moved me in such a unexpected way when my teenage self first saw this film, full of silly fun as it otherwise is. 

Here are the first words of this brilliant Irving Berlin song: "There may be trouble ahead..." 

In the show within the movie, the former couple Bake and Sherry play two strangers who meet, both in desperate straits. With nothing but despair in common, Bake's character continues, "But while there's music and moonlight and love and romance / Let's face the music and dance..." 

 I didn't have words for it then, but now I think that the number speaks to the transformative power of art. They danced and danced, until it literally saved their lives. With all of the destructive ways there are to escape, what a gift to life it is that we can choose instead to create something beautiful, something profound, something transcendent.

I can't mention an Astaire/Rogers film without the following credits: the stunning art direction of Van Nest Polglase (this Art Deco Hollywood Moderne set was created under Polglase's direction by Carroll Clark), costuming (casual, uniform and classic formal) by Bernard Newman, the gorgeous cinematography by David Abel and the indispensable Hermes Pan, collaborating with Astaire on the breathtaking choreography. 

Though I never got to meet Ginger Rogers, it is one of the great blessings of my life to have met Fred Astaire and thanked him for all the joy he added to my life. (The full story of that Christmas season encounter is for another time and another blog.) My friends and I took no photos and asked for no autographs on that day, but here are two photographs we took a few days later at the premiere of "The Towering Inferno."

Fred Astaire and his granddaughter arrive at the premiere of "The Towering Inferno."  (The bob cut at the far left belongs to Liza Minnelli!)

When Mr. Astaire spotted our group, he said "My carolers!" and came over to say hello. 


Always a class act, that Fred Astaire.