Now…

This is cool.

In 2011, three of six reels of a 1924 film called THE WHITE SHADOW were found in New Zealand. The previously lost film was directed by Graham Cutts. Never heard of him? That’s okay, maybe you’ve heard of the Assistant Director, Screenwriter, Editor, Production Designer, Art Director and Set Decorator – Alfred Hitchcock.

From May 13 to May 18 Ferdy on Films, Self-Styled Siren and This Island Rod are hosting another For The Love of Film: The Film Preservation Blogathon. This time around, the event is to raise money to help make this fascinating re-discovered movie available to the masses through the National Film Preservation Foundation’s website.

So donate something.

Film preservation is so important. Movies are as much of our cultural heritage as books, theatre, music, painting, sculpture, television (yes, television!)… you name it. And so many films from the early days of cinema are damaged or lost altogether. Donations to places like the National Film Preservation Foundation can make a difference in pieces of art not being gone forever.

I love participating in these types of blogathons and (hopefully) raising a teeny-tiny bit of awareness. I’m not one for film criticism and dissection, but I do enjoy writing little bits of nonsense.

So, here’s a short play about Hitchcock, blondes and jug bands.

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THE HITCHCOCK BLONDE REVIVALIST JUBILEE
by John Weagly

(Lights up. A living room. JASON, WALLY and SAMANTHA are having band rehearsal. JASON plays a jug, WALLY plays a washboard and SAMANTHA plays the spoons. After a moment, their song ends.)

JASON: We need a name for our band.

SAMANTHA: Right! Somethin’ that’ll catch the eyes and ears of everyone at the Jug Band Jubilee next September in Louisville.

WALLY: Somethin’ that looks good in the press!

(Pause. Everyone thinks for a moment.)

SAMANTHA: What about Hitchcock Blonde?

JASON: I don’t know, it’s got to be somethin’ catchy, like Basin Street Sheiks.

SAMANTHA: Hitchcock is catchy.

JASON: Somethin’ sexy, like The Hump Night Thumpers.

SAMANTHA: Blonde is sexy.

JASON: Somethin’ that never goes out of style, like Dixieland Jug Blowers.

SAMANTHA: Are you kiddin’? Hitchcock blondes in Hitchcock films never go out of style!

WALLY: It’s got to look good in the press!

(Pause. Everyone thinks for a moment.)

SAMANTHA: Think about it! Hitchcock Blonde. Icy. Aloof. A cool surface with an inner fire! Grace Kelly…

JASON: I don’t know…

SAMANTHA: Eva Marie Saint…

JASON: It just…

SAMANTHA: Kim Novak…

JASON: It might…

SAMANTHA: Tippi Hedren…

JASON: It might not…

SAMANTHA: Ingrid Bergman…

JASON: There’s a chance…

SMANTHA: Janet Leigh, Carole Lombard, Marlene Dietrich, Madeleine Carroll, Anny Ondra, Priscilla Lane, Betty Compson!

JASON: I don’t know. It might not be the message we want to send. Jug, washboard and spoons. That’s us. Simple. Pure. Classic. There’s a chance Hitchcock Blonde could be strayin’ from what good jug-banding is all about!

SAMANTHA: Look, a good jug band is about rhythm and pacing and the essential instability of life, right?

JASON: Right.

SAMANTHA: Just like a Hitchcock film! And what do you find in a Hitchcock film?

JASON: A Hitchcock blonde?

SAMANTHA: Exactly!

WALLY: It’d look good in the press!

(JASON takes a moment to take all of this information in.)

JASON: Jumpin’ Jehosaphat, you’re right! Hitchcock Blonde! It’s catchy, it’s sexy, it’ll never go out of style! It’s us! We are now Hitchcock Blonde! Besides, havin’ Hitchcock in our name could be our way into the film world! We could start composin’ scores like Bernard Herrmann or Dimitri Tiomkin or Michael Mortilla.

(Everyone is pleased. They take up their instruments and start rehearsing again. After a moment, WALLY stops.)

WALLY: I plum forgot! There’s already a band called Hitchcock Blonde. Electronic pop. They have an album called “Peroxide Vampire.” They do good in the press.

(Pause. Everyone thinks for a moment.)

SAMANTHA: What about The De Palmas?

(Lights down.)

And, once again, here’s the link: the National Film Preservation Foundation

You can read it here.

“Purple Hearts and Missing Femurs” opens this weekend as part of EBE Ensemble’s ELEPHANTS ON PARADE. It runs May 3 to May 12.

The website Blogging Shakespeare is celebrating by having bloggers around the world post their thoughts on how Shakespeare has impacted their lives.

I’ve acted in a few of the bard’s plays (“Romeo and Juliet,” “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “Two Gentlemen of Verona,” “The Tempest”) and even directed one (“The Comedy of Errors”), but I don’t act and direct anymore. I write little bits of nonsense.

And here’s the little bit of nonsense I came up with for Shakespeare’s birthday. The initial idea was to do something along the lines of “Abbott & Costello Discuss Shakespeare.”

Happy Birthday William!

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SHAKESPEAREAN IGNORANCE
by John Weagly

(Lights up. CHICK and WILBUR are on stage. CHICK is reading a large book, “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.”)

CHICK: Look at this. (Reading.) “To be or not to be!”

WILBUR: Which one is it?

CHICK: Which one what?

WILBUR: Is it “To be” or is it “To not to be”?

CHICK: That is the question.

WILBUR: I know. That’s what I just asked.

CHICK: It’s “To be or not to be.”

WILBUR: Okay. So which one?

CHICK: “To be or not to be, that is the question…”

WILBUR: That’s what I just asked.

CHICK: It’s William Shakespeare. From “Hamlet.” There is no answer.

WILBUR: Then why ask?

CHICK: It’s “Hamlet.” The soliloquy. “To be or not to be.”

WILBUR: I just want to know which one.

CHICK: There is no “one.” It’s “Hamlet.” Shakespeare. Like it?

WILBUR: It’s okay.

CHICK: Okay? It’s considered one of the greatest things ever written!

WILBUR: It’s a little… undecided.

CHICK: But, it’s William Shakespeare. The greatest writer that ever lived! Plays. Sonnets. Shakespeare! (Flipping pages.): Here. “The Merchant of Venice.” (Reading.) “If you prick us, do we not bleed?”

WILBUR: I don’t want you to prick me.

CHICK (Reading.): “If you tickle us, do we not laugh?”

WILBUR: I don’t want you to tickle me.

CHICK (Reading.): “If you poison us, do we not die?”

WILBUR: I don’t want you to poison me.

CHICK (Reading.): “If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

WILBUR: I don’t want you to wrong me or revenge me.

CHICK: It’s poetry.

WILBUR: It sounds like dastardly intentions. Are you going to do something dastardly?

CHICK: No! I wouldn’t do anything like that to you!

WILBUR: You wouldn’t?

CHICK: Of course not! You’re my pal!

WILBUR: You’re a good friend.

CHICK: I just want you to appreciate the greatness of greatness. (Flipping pages.) Here, look at this. “Merry Wives of Windsor.” (Reading.) “This is the short and the long of it.”

WILBUR: More of this! Which one is it?

CHICK: Which one what?

WILBUR: Is it “short” or is it “long”?

CHICK: It’s both. That’s the poetry.

WILBUR: I don’t think I like poetry.

CHICK: Sure you do! (Flipping pages.) Here. “Othello.” (Reading.) “Tis’ neither here nor there.”

WILBUR: “Tis’ neither here nor there?”

CHICK: You’ve heard that expression before, right?

WILBUR: Sure.

CHICK: Maybe you’ve said that before?

WILBUR: Sure. Here and there.

CHICK: That’s Shakespeare.

WILBUR: It is?

CHICK: It is! “Tis’ neither here nor there.”

WILBUR: Here nor there. Short and long. To be or not to be. Shakespeare needs to make up his mind!

CHICK: This is pointless.

WILBUR: I’m sorry.

CHICK: There’s no use trying to teach you anything.

WILBUR: I can be a good boy. I can learn.

CHICK: No. “Nothing will come of nothing.”

WILBUR: What?

CHICK: It’s from “King Lear.” “Nothing will come of nothing.” I’m saying your brain is empty, full of nothing. You’re ignorant.

WILBUR: Ignorant?

CHICK: Yes!

WILBUR: Me?

CHICK: Yes, you.

WILBUR: Well, I think you’re ignorant.

CHICK: Me?

WILBUR: Yes, ignorant! And “There is no sin but ignorance.”

CHICK: What’s that?

WILBUR: I said, “There is no sin but ignorance.”

CHICK: That’s “Jew of Malta.” Kit Marlowe. We’re not talking about him.

(Lights down.)
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I first encountered MacDonald in 1992 when I read THE EXECUTIONERS, the basis for both movie versions of CAPE FEAR. I liked it, but didn’t feel compelled to seek out more of his work. Then, at the turn of the Millennium when I really started getting into mystery fiction, I was introduced to MacDonald’s series character Travis McGee. I can get a little obsessive when it comes to books and movies and I still remember the look on the book store clerk’s face when I walked up to the counter with a stack of twelve used, musty paperbacks. Ironically, even though I have all twenty-one McGee books, I’ve only read five of them.

For “Friday’s Forgotten Books,” I chose to read the novella “Border Town Girl.” This story was originally published in 1950 in DIME DETECTIVE MAGAZINE under the less provocative title “Five Star Fugitive.” It was later paired with another novella, “Linda,” to become the Gold Medal paperback BORDER TOWN GIRL.

This is noir fiction at its finest! The plot revolves around smuggling drugs across the border from Mexico, but I doubt that that’s what I’ll remember about this modest gem. What will stick with me are the noir tropes: the desperate man, the desperate woman, a creepy carnival strongman, hard-bitten dialogue, double-crosses and that oh-so-important ethereal feeling of doom. Unfortunately, it all comes to a very cheesy end. In all of my remembrances of this tight little story, I’ll try to forget the last two pages exist.

As an added bonus, here’s a 1976 article Roger Ebert wrote about meeting John D. MacDonald.
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To see a list of stories by people that responded to the call, you can go here.

Billy Weston and Waylon Preston seem to be my go-to characters for Patti’s challenges. Here they are at a zoo:
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FRIDAY NIGHT AT COLDSMITH FARMS
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“I can’t win!”

“He’s just peckin’ at corn.”

“If that’s all he’s doin’, how come I can’t beat him?”

Billy Weston and Waylon Preston stood in the petting zoo at Coldsmith Farms, a family attraction on the outskirts of Currie Valley. They were in a white-picket fenced in area surrounded by two sheep, two goats, four ducks and a pot-bellied pig. The enclosure smelled of hay, dirt and old wood. The banjo twang of “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” by Flatt and Scruggs played over the PA system.

Waylon was in front of a glassed-in booth that held Charlie the Chicken, a common fowl that was able to play tic-tac-toe thanks to his abundance of “poultry power.” Waylon kept dropping gold Sacagawea dollars into a slot to play. Every now and then Charles, a Coldsmith Farms Enjoyment Specialist, would wander by and ask if they needed more coins.

Waylon hit buttons. Charlie pecked at corn. X’s and O’s lit up on a little screen at the bottom of Charlie’s window. A buzzer sounded.

“Tie again!” Waylon said.

“Let’s go to the bar, get you a beer.”

“No!” Waylon said, raising his voice. “I got to beat this Sassa-frassin’ chicken!”

“Sassa-frassin’?”

“I’m tryin’ to clean up my act, not cuss as much anymore.”

Waylon dropped another dollar into the machine. After nine moves, the buzzer sounded.

“Pig-hide!” Waylon said. A couple of heads turned his way.

“Finished?” Billy asked.

“No.” Waylon dropped a dollar into the machine. Nine moves. The buzzer sounded.

“Tie! Tie! Tie!” Waylon said. “Boy that really butters my beans!”

“You’re just throwin’ your money away.”

Waylon turned to his friend with desperation in his eyes. “Think about this,” he said. “I don’t have a job, I live in a trailer that I can’t keep clean and I haven’t touched a woman in ninety-seven days. Now I can’t even beat a chicken at tic-tac-toe. What does that say about me?”

He dropped another dollar into the machine. Eight moves. The buzzer sounded.

This time the chicken won.

“Foggy Mountain Breakdown” changed to Hank Williams’ “Move It On Over.”

“Mule-bang!!!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Billy said.

“Mule!” Waylon said, “Bang!”

Charles, the Coldsmith Farms Employee of the Month for April 2011, wandered up wearing his Coldsmith Farms polo short, his Coldsmith Farms hat and his Coldsmith Farms smile. “Everything okay, gentleman?”

“This chicken is a cheater,” Waylon said.

“That seems improbable.”

“How can a grown man lose to a chicken?” Waylon said. “This Sassa-frassin’ chicken cheats!”

“I’ll have to ask you to watch your language, sir.”

Waylon looked perplexed. “What? I didn’t say nothin’.”

“The tone and volume of your exclamations is a little alarming to some of the families present.”

“But I didn’t cuss.”

“No, sir. But…”

“So I don’t need to watch my language.”

“Maybe I phrased that wrong,” Charles said.

The pot-bellied pig came up and nudged Billy’s ankle. He reached down and scratched it between the ears, never taking his eyes off of the tempest growing.

Waylon looked at his name tag. “Charles. That’s your name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Charles and Charlie the Chicken. Any relation?”

“There’s no need for…”

Waylon narrowed his eyes. “Are you helping him cheat?”

“Charlie doesn’t cheat,” Charles said. “And I most certainly don’t need to help him cheat!” Charles pursed his lips. “Maybe he’s just smarter than you?”

Waylon took a step closer to Charles. “You’re a tad bit snooty, aren’t you?”

“Sir,” Charles said, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Waylon took another step closer to Charles. “All superior, with your pretentious job,” Another step. “And your highfalutin ways.”

“Don’t make me call security,” Charles said.

Billy put a hand on Waylon’s arm. “Let’s go to the bar.”

“I don’t like this guy,” Waylon said.

Billy stepped closer to his friend, “Do you want to lose tic-tac-toe to a chicken and end up in jail on the same night?”

Waylon thought about that for a moment. “Move It On Over” switched to Jerry Reed’s immortal SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT anthem “East Bound and Down.” He turned to Billy and said, “Let’s go.”

As Waylon and Billy started on their way out of the farm, Waylon stopped and turned back to the Coldsmith Farms Enjoyment Specialist.

“Hey, Charles!”

Charles turned to face them. “Yes?”

“You and your Sassa-frassin’ chicken,” Waylon said with extra emphasis on the frassin’, “Fluff you!”

Then Waylon and Billy walked to Billy’s truck.

-the end-
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This story was originally published in the magazine CHAMPAGNE SHIVERS in 2006 and I’m thrilled to see it get a second life!!!

You can read it here.
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And now you can hear the readings.

Booked., a very cool website, is posting podcasts of the event. The first episode is me and the uber-brilliant Nikki Dolson.

To listen, you can go here.

I start at about 18:30.

Enjoy!
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“The Complete Pinscher”

Check it out!
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Here’s a short play I wrote for a theater in Ireland. They were looking for plays about things people deal with in contemporary life. I decided to write about clichés and stereotypes.

It wasn’t selected for production, but here it is for all of you.

—

AN GORTA MOR
by John Weagly

(Lights up. An American restaurant. SEAN, an Irishman, sits at a table. BEATRICE, a waitress, enters.)

BEATRICE: Did you have a chance to look over the menu?

SEAN: I’ll have the Filet with a cup of coffee, please.

BEATRICE: What kind of potatoes?

SEAN: What’s that supposed to mean?

BEATRICE: Boiled potatoes or chips?

SEAN: I’m Irish? So I automatically want potatoes?

BEATRICE: I…

SEAN: That’s what the whole world thinks, right? The Irish love potatoes. Yum-Yum-Yum! It’s so funny! Such a clever joke!

BEATRICE: I was only asking…

SEAN: Potatoes! It’s one of those clichés that just drives me up a wall! Cliches, clichés, clichés! Why not ask me if I’d like a gallon of whiskey so I can get drunk and slovenly? Or why I’m not wearing green? Or why not go all the way and ask me if later on I’ll be picking up my shillelagh so I can head out to pick shamrocks with my Leprechaun?

BEATRICE: Look, you’re my last table of the night. I’ve been on my feet for ten hours. All I want right now is to go home, have some tea and sit down with a good book. Instead of this long shift ending on a positive note, you’re making it end on a negative note. I’m not insulting you, I just want to know what kind of potatoes you want. They come with the meal.

SEAN: What?

BEATRICE: With the filet. You get broccoli and a choice of boiled potatoes or chips. It’s the same question I ask every customer that orders the filet. Every single one.

SEAN: Oh. I see. I… I didn’t mean… I… I feel like such a jerk.

BEATRICE: It’s okay. I know what you meant. It drives me crazy when I hear jokes about men leaving the toilet seat up. Ha! Ha! Stereotypes! So with the filet you’ll have boil…

SEAN: I’ll have… I suppose…. No! No filet! No potatoes. It’s not worth it. I’ll just have soup.

BEATRICE: Soup?

SEAN: Yes. Potatoes, the potato cliché, it all just sets me off, makes me too irrational. I’ll keep it simple and have a large bowl of soup. Then I’ll leave a large tip! End the night on a positive note!

BEATRICE: Okay. Soup. That’s easy. Our soups today are… uh…

SEAN: The soups are…?

BEATRICE: It’s interesting. We have… well… um…

SEAN: Yes?

BEATRICE: Cream of Potato, Cheesy Potato Corn Chowder and Hodge-Podge Potato Surprise.

(Lights down.)
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His latest book, THE COMEDY IS FINISHED, will be published next Tuesday, February 21 by one of the best publishers out there, Hard Case Crime.

A new book coming out over three years after his death? I said he was prolific!

In honor of this latest release, Patti Abbott is hosting Donald Westlake Week in her weekly feature “Friday’s Forgotten Books” on her blog.

I started reading Westlake back in 1998 and he immediately became one of my favorite writers. For several years, every August for my birthday I would read a Donald Westlake “Dortmunder” novel and a Richard Stark “Parker” novel. Throughout the year I would read other stuff he wrote, but this is always a special birthday treat for myself.

For this extra-special “Friday’s Forgotten Books,” I chose to read the 1985 Dortmunder book GOOD BEHAVIOR. Unlucky crook John Dortmunder has to steal a nun from the top of a state-of-the-art skyscraper. That’s right, a living, breathing nun. Many things go right and many things go wrong in the humorous story, but I have to admit it’s not one of my favorites. GOOD BEHAVIOR gets bogged down in both religious talk and business talk and, truth be told, in some ways I sided with the bad guy who wants to de-program religion out of his daughter.

Still, less-than-perfect Westlake is better than 93% of what’s out there. GOOD BEHAVIOR just didn’t live up to other Dortmunder masterpieces like THE HOT ROCK, BANK SHOT, WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN? or the short story “Too Many Crooks.”
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