All the Post's Men (Minus One Woman): Why Katharine Graham Wasn't in "All the President's Men"

Steven Spielberg's newspaper drama The Post has thrown a huge spotlight on Washington Post publisher Katharine Graham. Graham, who played a major role in Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein's coverage of the Watergate break-in, nonetheless doesn't appear in the film version of Woodward and Bernstein's own bestseller All the President's Men (1976). There have been misconceptions in articles like this one, which presume that Graham's absence was some kind of sexist slight:

http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2017/12/13/the_post_puts_katharine_graham_back_in_the_washington_post_s_history.html

The reality is much simpler and less dramatic.

In November, 2012, I attended a screening of All the President's Men at the Virginia Film Festival, which was followed by a fascinating Q&A with Woodward and Bernstein themselves, moderated by former Virginia Governor Gerald Beliles. Woodward and Bernstein stated that they wished that Graham was depicted in the film because she had staunchly supported them and was as important to the overall story as any Post employee recreated in the film. However, a scene had been written into the script featuring Graham, but Graham herself would not grant permission for her likeness to be used and the scene was cut and never filmed. Graham also did not allow filming at the Post's offices, which were instead meticulously recreated at the Burbank Studios in Los Angeles-- famously right down to actual trash imported from the Post's waste paper baskets. At that same Q&A, Woodward and Bernstein stated that Graham liked the finished film and said that she regretted that she hadn't let herself be represented in it.

Various incorrect accounts of the film's development claim that no scenes were written featuring Graham, but that actresses Patricia Neal and Lauren Bacall were considered to play her. In reality, there was a two- or three-page scene featuring Graham set in her office that appeared in an early draft of the script. Several years ago, I handled production manager E. Darrell Hallenbeck's archive on All the President's Men and discovered that scene, which was dropped from later drafts. At the time, I photographed those pages; when I can find them, I will post more details about them.

There you have it: Katharine Graham wasn't slighted by All the President's Men-- she simply opted out of it.

Robby the Robot Triumphant!

In November, 2017, my employer, Bonhams Auctions, set a World Record for the most expensive movie prop to ever sell at auction: the original Robby the Robot from "Forbidden Planet" and his Jeep. I am proud to say that I cataloged that piece; here is a link to the listing I wrote:

https://www.bonhams.com/auctions/24465/lot/1070/

The auction was covered by countless major news outlets, including CBS News, NPR, The New York Times, The Guardian, SyFy, Scientific American, and dozens of others. This is deeply satisfying to me from a professional standpoint, partly because Robby's longtime owner, Bill Malone, sent me my first movie prop catalog when I was in my early teens.

It was "a true privilege," as Robby would say, spending two-and-a-half months around Robby and I'm sure his new home will be a happy one.

Carry On Wuthering: Screenwriter Patrick Tilley remembers adapting "Wuthering Heights" (1970)

NOTE: The quotes in this article from my correspondence with Patrick Tilley are used with his permission. Many thanks to Mr. Tilley for his help with my research. The text of this article is © Copyright 2017- Justin Humphreys.)  

            While writing about director Robert Fuest’s The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971), I became very curious about the film he made immediately before it, Wuthering Heights (1970). Fuest was a dear friend and I spoke with him about the film occasionally. It was a relative anomaly in his career—Bob’s work was marked by sleek stylishness and a wonderfully bizarre sense of humor, neither of which were evident in Wuthering Heights. But with the film, Bob proved that he could also direct a relatively straightforward film, virtually devoid of his trademark eccentricities.

Though he didn’t gripe about it, the film had been a disappointment for him, in one sense: Its producers, American International Pictures, had sheared around 45 minutes off of the film, adding interstitial narration by Nellie the maid (Judy Cornwell) to fill in the many gaps. The film’s last act was left largely untouched, but its first two acts were heavily altered. Why the drive-in movie specialists allowed a relative newcomer like Fuest to make a two-hour-plus movie remains a mystery.

            What troubled me most about this was the realization that the film would probably never be restored. No one (Fuest included) seemed to know if there was a full-length print of Fuest’s cut. In the near future, I will be making announcements about a verbal reconstruction of sorts of the film that I’ve recently done.

            In the process of researching Wuthering Heights, I corresponded at length with its screenwriter, Patrick Tilley. Tilley, like Fuest, was a relative newcomer to feature films when he adapted Emily Bronte’s novel. He had begun his career as a graphic designer and illustrator, and had contributed the design and script of Richard Attenborough’s Oh! What a Lovely War (1969). Tilley would go on to write films like The People That Time Forgot (1977) and The Legacy (1978), and went on to greater success writing science fiction novels, including the popular Amtrak Wars series.

Tilley began adapting Bronte’s novel the most logical way: By thoroughly studying it: “Having been given the assignment by AIP, I read the novel five times making notes as I went along and watched the Ben Hecht movie only to discover that lines of dialogue by one character in the book had been given to someone else. Luckily I found an extract from a book analyzing Wuthering Heights which gave the ages of the main characters and the historical period—Georgian, not high Victorian with Heathcliff and Cathy as teenagers which again put an entirely different slant on the story. . .

“The decision to actually film the movie in Yorkshire was a bold move and gave an entirely different slant on the pre-War Hollywood movie which was a complete travesty of the book. . .

“Wuthering's problem is that the public take on the story has been forever warped by the Ben Hecht movie. I didn't see the BBC's latest version but I would be surprised if it covered the whole of the book. Most people think Heathcliff died but of course he didn't - and is alive and well and as gruff, brutish and unwelcoming as Earnshaw was. But then - in my book - it's because he has inherited his father's genes.”

By that, Tilley is referring to a point that is implied in Bronte’s novel, and which he makes explicit: Heathcliff is Mr. Earnshaw’s bastard son, which makes Cathy his half-sister:

 “Mea culpa. Must confess that making Heathcliff the result of Earnshaw's trips to Liverpool was my idea. Geographically speaking Liverpool is an odd destination for a farmer living in the Yorkshire dales and I seem to remember that he had made the journey several times before. Add the fact that Heathcliff had a "swarthy complexion" hinted at a mixed-race dalliance - and the port of Liverpool has always been a melting pot. And why else would a hard-nosed son-of-a-bitch like Earnshaw bring back a stray and make him one of the family? Making him an unpaid child worker on the farm would have been much more likely. And give him the name of their dead first-born. . . ?

“Gimme a break. . .   

“I also felt that it gave the relationship with Cathy a doomed quality and

strengthened the reason why Mrs Earnshaw's dying wish that Heathcliff should not inherit any part of Earnshaw's estate.”

Other plot points Tilley left tantalizingly vague, like how Heathcliff transformed himself from a ruffian farmhand into a cultivated, worldly gentleman:

“Regarding H's acquired wealth and his transformation into a gentleman, Emily never enlightens the reader on how this happened. It could be through gambling, becoming a rich person's toy-boy, or by murder and theft - take your pick. It is by not dotting the ‘i’s’ and not crossing the ‘t's’ that makes Emily's story so compelling and mysterious.”

As Bob Fuest would do the next year in his The Abominable Dr. Phibes, there was no reason to explain everything. Having to fill in that gap is much more fascinating for the audience. As far as working with his director on the script went, Tilley says: “I didn't have a close working relationship with Bob Fuest who I first met through a mutual friend who had been at art school with him. So I can't tell you much about him although I did admire his imaginative film Dr Phibes.”

Tilley found writing Cathy’s death scene nearly as agonizing as the character did: “I spent a long week just on her death scene and got so worn out at times I thought I was going down with what she had. . .”
            Tilley’s script was “typed out on an IBM machine years before computers and Final Draft were available.” Tilley saw a lot of AIP’s European liaison, Louis “Deke” Heyward, in London. Fuest wasn’t especially fond of Heyward—he once referred to him as a “wanker” in conversation with me. But Tilley got along with “Deke” well: “Since AIP went on to commission more screenplays from me (at one point it felt like being Writer in Residence) I had an extended period with AIP's London Office. I wouldn't say Deke was a ‘wanker’ (eg: tosspot/jerkoff) but while he could summon up an imposing all-powerful presence, I felt he was essentially a lightweight who did as little work as possible-- his main job was ringing up Sam and Jim at 2:30 am in the morning London time to discuss progress on the various projects going through, which were mainly scripts I had been asked to write or rewrite. I often dropped into the office where he had an English assistant who may have been instrumental in getting me the WH gig as he was aware of the large contribution I had made to the script of Oh! What A Lovely War! writing dialogue for all the theatrical knights who featured in the movie and acting as creative assistant/ production illustrator to Dickie Attenborough. . . I had a previous career as a graphic designer/illustrator before starting off writing tv scripts before transferring to movie work.

            “Anyway, to cut a long story short my dealings with Deke were amiable enough and he dined at my house a couple of times and had a cozy apartment in St. James' Street - if memory serves me right. We had a mutual interest in aviation - I had enjoyed four years flying in the British equivalent of the ROTC while at art college while he had been a primary flying instructor in the States using a Stearman bipe carrying the name ‘Paper Dolly’ before flying B-24's from the States via the Azores to North Africa. . .

“Once the final draft was written, Deke called Bob and I in and having complimented me on the script said ‘This is great - but there's one thing missing. There are no ‘killer lines.’’ Bob and I looked at each other then back to Deke who explained – ‘We'll always have Paris’. . . ‘Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn’ - plus a few more immortal gems then explained he was going to book the three of us into a country hotel for a long weekend where we would examine every line of dialogue and keep at it - all through the night if necessary to come up with something that would outlive us all. Lets face it - he had a point. Anyway - it never happened. Deke never got around to booking us into the hotel - and the problem was never mentioned again.”

Fuest used to say that AIP had never read Bronte’s novel, only the Classics Illustrated version. Tilley wrote something similar about Heyward’s initial response to his script: “Deke Heyward gave mine to his book-wormy 14-year-old daughter to read. And so it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut used to say. . .

“AIP was very pleased with my efforts and commissioned me to write several
more screenplays for them including The House of Seven Gables - none of them
reached the screen. Then Jim Nicholson died and Sam sort of faded away.”

Unbeknownst to Tilley, Bob Fuest had also been hired to write a Seven Gables script: “I have no recollection of Bob Fuest working on the script. Certainly not while I was writing it. It's quite possible he might have been asked to work on it at some later stage but I must have been out of the loop. Time-wise it was after my second script for AIP Public Parts and Private Places - adapted from a novel by a British writer, then I did another - might have been a rewrite or from a synopsis called Make for the High Ground.”

Originally, the film ended on a tight shot of Heathcliff’s dead hand on Pennistone Crags, his cuff’s ruffles billowing gently in the wind: “When the film was completed with an ending drawn from events in the book, [producers] Sam Arkoff and Jim Nicholson took the film back home to Los Angeles and screened it for their wives in Sam's private cinema. The ladies were unhappy with the end and wanted it replaced by a version of the Ben Hecht ending. A director and crew were hired and two doubles for Cathy and Heathcliff were paid to replicate the Hollywood ending where the pair run up towards their favorite place at the top of the hill.”

The film received mixed reviews: “Dilys Powell headlined her piece ‘Carry On Wuthering’ from the very British ‘Carry On’ Comedy series of films in the 60's and 70's. . . But you might like to know that AIP's Wuthering was the first western movie to be screened in Chairman Mao's China and reputedly garnered 9 million dollars. It cost 3 million to make. Can't guarantee that - it was a long time ago.” Newsweek’s critic made some venomous remarks about the incestuous slant of Cathy and Heathcliff’s romance—an obvious dig at AIP’s exploitation movie pedigree. But Wuthering Heights was AIP’s first film to play at Radio City Music Hall and it apparently did very respectable business.

AIP was obviously trying to rise above their usual drugs-and-bikers fare with Wuthering Heights, partly through their choice of the film’s score’s composer, Michel Legrand. Tilley says he “was impressed at the time that AIP had the good taste to hire him.” Though AIP discussed making subsequent public domain literary adaptations like Camille and A Tale of Two Cities, they were not to be.

More to come about Wuthering Heights. . . Stay tuned. . .

RIP Richard Adams: "My friend has stopped running."

There isn't a week that goes by that I don't think about the late Richard Adams's magnificent novel "Watership Down." Reading it as a kid, I liked it, but as an adult, its deceptively simple premise clicked completely with me. The novel's huge, lasting popularity is completely justifiable-- it's timeless. It gains new generations of fans every decade because it is about subjects that abide and matter. Above all, it's about survival, courage in the face of endless horrors, and about making sense of your place in the universe-- all through a group of rabbits desperately seeking a new warren. I've never been more gripped by a story or rooted harder for a group of characters than Hazel and his band. Along with "Charlotte's Web," it's one of the greatest works of anthropomorphic fiction of the 20th century, and, within its fantastic concept, it has far more of value to say than many (allegedly) realistic novels. Adams's other works, like the lovely "The Girl in the Swing," are strong, but to produce one book as truly great as "Watership Down" in a lifetime is as much as any novelist can hope for.

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

"We must burn the books, Montag . . . ALL the books!"

Once again, my home state has been in the news for something embarrassing: from London to L.A., newspapers have been reporting that the Accomack County School System has been considering banning Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" and Mark Twain's "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" from its curriculum because of complaints from a lone student.

This is the most unthinkable and pernicious kind of censorship: trying to cover up the wrongs and ugliness of the past (in this case, the book's villains use a very ugly racial epithet) to calm down one kid's complaints, meanwhile keeping the rest of the students from enriching their lives by reading a lasting work of deep moral, ethical, and social value. "To Kill a Mockingbird" is exactly the kind of novel that kids should be reading--it isn't simply a story about race, but about making difficult moral choices when society itself is wrong and pitted against you. The potential ban of a book of such extraordinary value and power, one writer suggested, makes him want to buy hundreds of copies of the book and hand them out to Accomack County school kids.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" presents America during the time of slavery, which shouldn't be presented in a kind or pleasant light. Like "To Kill a Mockingbird," it deals with a youngster who discovers that he has been brainwashed by a racist society, and who rebels against it, in the process realizing that his friend, the escaped slave Jim, has been dehumanized and brutalized by the utterly wrong adults around him. This is NOT an easy or simple book, and it involves some very ugly words and the ability to contextualize them; to deny that those words were once widely used is to lie about history. When you start banning books because one person is offended, where does it stop? Which book is next? Who is the arbiter of what kids can and cannot read? This is the slipperiest of slopes.

The late, great Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451" keeps coming up as this controversy is bandied around in the press. Bradbury's Fire Chief, the head book-burner of a completely repressive future, describes why all books must be burned: sooner or later, SOMEONE will be offended by them, and people shouldn't be offended-- when they're offended, they THINK, they get discontented, they question things, they're forced out of their safety zone. In Francois Truffaut's film version, the Chief tells the protagonist, Montag "We must burn the books, Montag . . . ALL the books" as he smiles and holds up a copy of "Mein Kampf."

If you are as horrified by the potential banning of two very valuable and important books, please sign this petition and spread the word about it to other concerned parties:

http://action.everylibrary.org/book_banning_in_virginia_schools

The Rocky Horror Television Show?

So, "The Rocky Horror Show" was the initial stage show, right? And the film version, being a "picture show," was "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." Then why isn't the TV series titled "The Rocky Horror Television Show"???

"Dawn of the Dead" (1979) in 3D: Review

Last night, I took in the North American premiere of the 3D version at BeyondFest in LA. Being a longtime "Dawn" aficionado, I kept thinking it would either be a fiasco or fantastic. It turns out it's a major treat--I have NEVER seen "Dawn" look or SOUND clearer. I was picking up bits of background dialogue that I had never caught before, even after seeing the film untold dozens of times. The clarity of the picture--no doubt essential to the 3D process-- was incredible. The 3D experience of "Dawn" is fascinating and it's hard to explain quite how. The "money" gore shots aren't necessarily the most effective ones in 3D: intimate, character-driven scenes like the one with the one-legged Priest work extremely well in the process. The same goes for any shot involving characters in big, open areas, or behind glass, for some reason. The 3D "Dawn" is well worth seeing (and hearing!). Before the movie started, Rubinstein said that he hadn't made any editorial changes to the movie, which is almost true: during the end credits, they used freeze-frames of the shots of the zombies shambling through the mall. That's a minor quibble, and other than that, it's true to the original film. The good news is, what could have been a gimmicky desecration of a great American film proved to be the opposite.

As added bonuses, Producer Richard Rubinstein intro-ed the film and Ken Foree, John Harrison, and Zilla Clinton were sitting two rows down from me. BeyondFest threw t-shirts into the audience reading "When there's no more room in Hell, BeyondFest will walk the earth." It was an indescribable kick seeing John Harrison watching himself as the screwdriver zombie.

RIP Edward Albee

There are few things more annoying than an author, actor, or other artist getting off on the sound of their own cleverness and describing in endless, hellish detail how their "creative process" works. Artists of any kind can easily become too smart for their own good (and the good of their audiences). So I will say "Rest in Peace" to Edward Albee with this wonderful Albee quote:

"Few sensible authors are happy discussing the creative process. It is, after all, black magic."

RIP James Whiton, Dr. Phibes' co-creator

I'm saddened to report the death of writer James Whiton, the co-creator of "The Abominable Dr. Phibes." I was one of the only people to ever track Whiton down to interview him about the film, and he proved to be alternately incredibly helpful and incredibly unhelpful. He was almost as odd and reclusive, in his way, as Dr. Phibes himself, but he was responsible for helping bring one of my all-time favorite fictional characters to life, and provided me with vital information that I will always be deeply indebted to him for. As I put the finishing touches on my "Dr. Phibes Companion" book, his passing feels all the more poignant to me because he contributed so much to it. RIP.

Where are you, Benny Hill, when we need you most???

I wish that Benny Hill was alive for many, many reasons, but, right now, mainly because I want to see a Trump-Hillary debate with Benny playing both Trump and Hillary.

A Love Letter to "Taxi Driver"

I've seen Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" a ridiculous number of times, but no matter how much I revisit it, it still astonishes. It's so sophisticated, it's like watching a movie from the future that happens to have been made forty years ago--so much more modern than any 21st century movies. The sheer virtuosity of the thing, the incredible balance of bleakness and humor, every last element coalescing into a perfect alchemy of genius . . . And I would love to hear spoiled NYC hipsters' reactions to rancid old '70s Manhattan: "You can't fool me--that's not Manhattan! That's the Gaza Strip! Or Mordor! It HAS to be!"

Silverstein Fever?

What's with the wave of Shel Silverstein lookalikes roaming around these days?

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/8f/Ssilverstein.jpg

The bald/beard look is kind of beyond me. I guess "The Giving Tree" is hugely popular with thirty-ish guys nowadays.

An Open Letter to Death by Justin Humphreys

Dear Death,
You've been playing the motherfucking fool a LOT lately, and, speaking for the entire human race: lighten up a little and work on your aim.
Sincerely,
Justin

Rory as I remember him. RIP Angus Scrimm.

Last weekend, we lost a horror star of the first magnitude: Angus Scrimm, the Tall Man of Don Coscarelli's wildly imaginative and endlessly entertaining Phantasm  series. But I seldom think of him as "Angus Scrimm"--he will always be Rory Guy to me. This ominous figure from so many movies was actually Lawrence Rory Guy of Kansas City--a well-read, cultured cinephile and music-lover who brought new meaning to the word "genteel" beloved by all who knew him. 

I first met Rory at a convention when I was fourteen and we hit it off from the start. We sat down over Cokes and proceeded to talk for about three hours about everything from James Whale's The Old Dark House (which I hadn't seen at the time) to Orson Welles. Rory told me that his only Welles sighting was in the 1980s. He decided to treat himself to a meal at Ma Maison, Welles's favorite restaurant. During the meal, he looked over and saw a gigantic shadow spreading over the restaurant's wall, and then a tiny dog on a leash  appeared followed by Orson Welles--a properly Wellesian entrance. 

Before he became legendary (rightly so) to horror fans, Rory attended USC with Sam Peckinpah, and even appeared in a production of "Arsenic and Old Lace" that Peckinpah directed. Just the idea of those two collaborating on that play makes me levitate. Rory wrote liner notes to albums like Meet the Beatles and at least one Martin Denny LP. 

He was also an inveterate movie-lover, writing for Curtis Hanson's Cinema magazine (and even acted in Hanson's early film Sweet Kill, aka: The Arousers). I recall Rory telling me that seeing Satyajit Ray's "Apu" trilogy was one of the greatest movie-going experiences of his life. Rory's interviews with Golden Age Hollywood actors like Paul Henreid and (as I recall) Elisha Cook, Jr. appeared in a book that he co-authored with James Silke--Rory felt that Silke had hogged the credit on the book, and openly told me so. 

I corresponded with Rory for years and spoke with him regularly by phone; we would catch up whenever I was in L.A. at places like Sam Woo's in Chinatown. I have nothing but pleasant memories of him. He was unfailingly pleasant, generous, and good-natured with me. He was such an erudite person that hearing his occasional use of profanity was genuinely shocking. One of his final film roles, in Coscarelli's John Dies at the End, involved him "using words I've never said before on film," he told me; his hilarious cameo as the beatific Father Shellnut involved a (justifiably) profanity-laden rant that qualify as his most unforgettable scene in a Coscarelli film--for me at least, mainly because it was so uncharacteristic of Rory, the man. 

My memories of Rory are many and somewhat random. I recall him talking about how he was finally reading Moby Dick-- a kind of obligation that he felt was "a chore." I remember how enthusiastically he described acting in a stage production of Ray Bradbury's "Let's All Kill Constance," and how warmly Bradbury had responded to his performance. Then there was the time I was watching a tape of vintage "classroom scare films" and ran across Rory's appearance as a father explaining the facts of life to his son in a VD-scare movie. Rory recalled shooting his scene in it somewhere in the Valley back in the '70s and earning about $100 for it. He improvised his dialogue, and he said the crew cracked up when, off the cuff, he broke out with "Son, do you know what this is? It's a condom. So if the fellows as you what this is, you can say 'That's a condom.'" 

In all of the eulogies I have seen of Rory, very few of them have given proper credit to his performance in Coscarelli's Jim, The World's Greatest. Like Coscarelli's other early films, it was made on a tiny budget and still looked astonishingly good. (I don't say that lightly--YOU try shooting a movie in 35mm with that kind of money.) In the film, Rory played high school football star Jim's (Gregory Harrison) broken-down, alcoholic father. The character he created was wholly unrecognizable as him: a pathetic, wasted, bitter loser. He regularly Jim's younger brother because he hatefully assumes that the boy isn't really his son. It is a painful, pitiful performance, not unlike Stacy Keach's in Fat City. (SPOILERS AHEAD.) Universal chose not to release the film because of its downbeat ending where Rory's character beats the little boy to death. It's a terrible shame that Rory's extraordinary performance in this excellent little film have been so seldom-seen. (I once stumbled across a rare photo of Rory in the film that he didn't have and made sure to send him a copy.) 

There is much more to say about Rory, which I will add later. For the moment, I will suffice it to say that he is dearly missed. RIP. 

Crimson Peak/Strawberry Hill Connection? Or am I just imagining things?

I have a lingering question about Guillermo Del Toro's recent Gothic horror film Crimson Peak that I haven't seen anyone raise--and which I had wondered about even before the movie's release. The great Gothic writer Horace Walpole lived in a completely Gothic estate called "Strawberry Hill." What I keep wondering is: is Crimson Peak, the name of the film's central manor house, a play on Strawberry Hill? Crimson Peak is loaded with references to Gothic literature and film and cinematic ghost stories--all the usual suspects: The Innocents, The Changeling, Mario Bava's ghost stories, The Fall of the House of Usher, ad infinitum. A reference to Walpole would be perfectly suitable, especially considering his references to Algernon Blackwood in the name of a manor house in his Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. Your guess is as good as mine.

The New Mexico Museum of Space honors George Pal

http://www.alamogordonews.com/story/news/local/community/2015/10/06/new-mexico-museum-space-history/73415724/

Last weekend, the New Mexico Museum of Space inducted five visionary filmmakers into its Space Hall of Fame: George Melies, Fritz Lang, George Lucas, Walt Disney, and George Pal. All of these men helped popularize the idea of spaceflight and make it a reality or helped make science fiction a popular and profitable movie genre. I was honored to accept Mr. Pal's award on behalf of his family, and to read an essay by Mr. Pal himself. The keynote speaker was Apollo 15 astronaut Al Worden, whose own speech coincidentally dovetailed perfectly with Mr. Pal's.

My authorized biography of Mr. Pal is nearing completion. My research for it included interviewing over sixty of Pal's co-workers, family members, and fans in the movie industry. The Pal family has given me unparalleled support and access to Pal's papers and this will be the definitive work on his life and films.

Dr. Quest's Supersonic Jet Soars Again: Moebius Models's "Dragonfly" Model

The good folks at Moebius Models have outdone themselves again with yet another first-rate kit, which they seem to release faster than a "Jonny Quest" villain can holler "AIEEEEE!" In the beloved Hanna-Barbera series, the Dragonfly was Dr. Quest's supersonic jet in which he and the series' other heroes-- Race Bannon, Jonny, Hadji, and Bandit-- soared around the world, battling their foes and righting wrongs at every port of call. Moebius has done an outstanding job of reproducing the Dragonfly in styrene. Luckily, "Jonny Quest" has been the victim of a ridiculous reboot or "reimagining" (which very little "imagining" will factor into) and the wonderful, streamlined beauty of the Dragonfly hasn't been reinvented in some ridiculous 21st century way that kills its mid-century animated comic book-style charm. Moebius has captured that charm beautifully. 

I can only hope that they will follow this up with figure kits of Doug Wildey's Quests and their nefarious enemies: Dr. Zin, Turu the Terrible, the Lizard Men, et al. Thanks again, Moebius! 

David Pal's praise for my manuscript "George Pal: Man of Tomorrow"

David Pal, the eldest son of producer/director George Pal, has this to say about my authorized biography of his father, George Pal: Man of Tomorrow:

"Bravo, Justin. Your manuscript is wonderful. You have made a document that will be a treasure to my family, I am sure, forever. I believe there will never need to be another biography of my father based on the in-depth research that is present in your manuscript. It is a complete picture of his life and most importantly a liberation of facts into the light of the truth, which from my perspective has been much-needed.
  "All those names that I had forgotten and all the memories of my past with my father that have been rekindled– I have never previously felt that with other writing about him. You have captured aspects of him as a person that I have found very difficult to explain to others, particularly those who think they knew him. Thanks so much, Justin.
  "I will, from this point on, say to other researchers that all the facts regarding my father have already been addressed in toto in your book and there is nothing further that could be added."

For Sale: Ultra-Rare Unfilmed "A Clockwork Orange" Screenplay by Anthony Burgess Himself!

http://www.ebay.com/itm/221817543837?ssPageName=STRK%3AMESELX%3AIT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649

I'm selling an extremely rare reproduction of executive producer Si Litvinoff's personal copy of Anthony Burgess's unfilmed screenplay of "A Clockwork Orange." This is not Stanley Kubrick's screenplay that was shot, or Terry Southern's earlier script, but one by Burgess himself. It cleaves much closer to Burgess's novel and has a wildly different opening, among countless other differences. Two years ago, the Anthony Burgess Foundation told me that the only copies of this script that they know of are in their collection and in the Kubrick Archives. I sold Litvinoff's original copy of this script a while back and it is currently up for sale by a European bookseller for 15,000 Euros.

The exquisite corpses keep a-comin'

More exquisite corpse nonsense done in collaboration with Paul Komoda and others.