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NPR ran a piece on Weekend Edition about Laurel and Hardy’s Music Box steps that answers the question, “What does NPR do when they have an extra couple of minutes to fill and they can’t come up with an idea?” 3m, with Kiefer Sutherland as Ollie, Dame Helen Mirren as Stan, and Scott Simon as the rear portion of Susie.
Link
Continuing our series on poorly conceptualized toys:
Revell was quite successful with its model kits “Visible Man” and “Visible Woman.” As I recall, “The Visible Woman” (below) had a snap-on pregnancy accessory kit which confused an entire generation of impressionable boys about the mechanics of reproduction.
 Far less successful was “The Visible Popeye,” since, traditionally, all Fleischer characters were drawn without internal organs.
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For all the progress we’ve made, there are still unsolvable challenges:
- What is the biological basis of consciousness?
- Can the laws of physics ever be unified?
- Can no one design a toy car driven by Donald Duck that doesn’t look completely stupid?
Car not cartoonish; large head makes windshield pointless
Impractical wheel-bearing unit load ratio uses singular-row angular-contact ball bearings
Beret-wearing duck strains credulity
Not Disney authorized; Duck seems severely injured from previous rollover
 Horizontal steering wheel; Duck still recovering from serious sawmill accident
Insufficient budget/expertise: paint
Duck appears to be bathing in pool of red liquid; Driver unidentified
 Macrocephaly, Inexplicable cricket; Duck poised for Isadora Duncan-like death
 I’m an optimist.
Back when there used to be LP stores… back when there used to be CD stores… I would dutifully head to the soundtrack section on every visit and look for certain LP’s and later, CD’s.
I knew I wouldn’t find them, because I knew they didn’t exist. But I kept looking.
Music from the Our Gang and Laurel and Hardy movies? Nah. Wouldn’t ever happen.
The OST from The Time Machine? How many would they sell, maybe three?
And, of course, The Avengers.
For my money, the best TV soundtrack music of all time.
Laurie Johnson had written some of the most memorable “generic” production music, as I found out by accident when “scoring” a corporate video from production LP’s. (It was Laurie Johnson who wrote the wonderful piece Happy Go Lively, heard in John K.’s Ren and Stimpy over and over again). Lo and behold, even the Theme From The Avengers was originally written for use as production music, as I discovered when checking the cuts on an old disc. (It was originally titled The Shake.)
It took decades. Since the original Hal Roach recordings had disappeared, it took an incredible amount of work to piece together complete versions of the songs, but my friend Piet Schreuders did it. And then it took dedicated musicians playing period instruments – The Beau Hunks – to record note-perfect recreations of the LeRoy Shield Tunes.
After a false start – a re-recording of Russ Garcia’s score for The Time Machine – the real thing emerged, just a few years ago.
The new three-CD set of Laurie Johnson music has one disc devoted to The Avengers, with 70 minutes of original music score. I just ordered my copy from Buy Soundtrax.
Now, if someone would only find the original Larry Adler/Muir Matheson soundtrack to Genevieve, I could stop looking for the one album that would never exist that, for some reason, still doesn’t exist.
Because I maintain the Genevieve website, I get a small but steady stream of interesting e-mails. Never, prior to an hour ago, have I received this one:
Hi there, wondering if you could help, who is the man banging the gong before the start of [the J. Arthur Rank film] Genevieve? Appreciate if your able to help!
I was, of course, immediately tempted to write back and suggest Marc Bolan. I didn’t, but I did learn that people are almost evenly divided about the meaning of “Bang A Gong,” with slightly less than half believing the phrase refers to drugs, slightly less than half who think it is a reference to sexual activity, and the remaining fraction who responded either “don’t know” or “couldn’t care less.”
But I realized that I had no idea who banged the J. Arthur Rank gong.
I didn’t know that the gong was a complete and total fake, made out of papier-mâché, and that if the mystery man had actually hit the thing, not only would it not have made a sound, but also the beater (and I didn’t know that the thing that hits the gong is called a beater) would have gone right through it.
So, who is the greasy gentleman above? No, not Bolan, the guy banging a gong.
Well, the greasy gentleman above is – I think – Ken Richmond. In actuality, J. Arthur Rank employed four gong beaters, and hardly anyone notices the difference, a situation sociologists refer to as “Ronald McDonald Syndrome.”
The 6′ 5″ Carl Dane started banging in 1932 and kept banging until 1948. Dane was the first man to pull a London bus with his teeth and the first man to open a J. Arthur Rank film.
He was succeeded by Bombardier Billy Wells, a professional boxer who is the only beater to have a beer named after him.
Then there was Phil Nieman, who was only able to bang for a short time, considered by many to be a master beater.
And finally Ken Richmond, also 6′ 5″. He was a Jehovah’s Witness wrestler, and by that I do not mean that he wrestled the odd Jehovah’s Witness now and again. He was himself a Jehovah’s Witness, and when his gong-banging days were over, he started banging on doors and passing out copies of The Watchtower.
Ken being a 6′5″ 265 lb. pro wrestler, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that most people said yes, they’d be very happy to have a copy of The Watchtower.
The beater was last applied to the gong in 1980, when the Rank Studios closed; Mr. Richman’s own beater gave out at his home in August of 2006, when he was 80 years old.
The Lime Grove Studio (also called the Shepherd’s Bush Studio) started out making silent films and ended up as a TV production center for the BBC. Some of the stages illustrated on these cigarette cards were used in both Alfred Hitchcock’s best-known British sound films, including The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) and The Thirty-Nine Steps (1935) …as well as the first Dr. Who episodes starring William Hartnell.
 They put quotations around the film title “Rome Express,” but could have put them around “In the Station” as well. Lime Grove was a huge place, according to British writer-comedian Frank Muir, quoted in the Radio Times: “My prevailing memory of it was getting lost. You would keep meeting the same people every few minutes in the corridor, all looking for different rooms. No matter what time you arrived, you only reached the studio in the nick of time.”
Let’s hope these two stagehands stayed above their snowstorm. Naphtha, cited as an ingredient in “studio snow” on the reverse of this card, was later found to be a carcinogen.
The fact that they also used soap flakes to impersonate snow provides sweet vindication for a friend of mine who put on puppet shows in his youth. One memorable show had a soap-flake blizzard scene unexpectedly interrupted by fits of soap-flake inspired uncontrollable sneezing that left the puppets speechless for quite some time.
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“If you are working in the studios, you usually labor all day in an ill-ventilated, dusty studio,” according to director Ken Annakin, who worked at Shepherd’s Bush early in his career. And no one is safe from the fray. “Supported by my very expert crew,” Annakin says of one of his pictures, “the studio shooting went smoothly, apart from the Swimming Pool set, which developed a leak and soaked all our costumes stored in a room below.” Maybe that’s what the “needlewoman” at her sewing machine is worried about.
 Ah, optical sound being captured. And what wonderful optical sound it must have been: it’s The Good Companions, a 1933 musical featuring Jessie Matthews teamed with John Gielgud (appearing in his first film). A reviewer on IMdb attempts to summarize the plot, saying “Four separate people in provincial Britain are on the tramp to somewhere…” which made me think about another film made the same year – “Hallelujah I’m a Bum,” an Al Jolson musical. Well, of course, in the UK, “bum” means “butt,” and who wants to see a movie called “Hallelujah, I’m an Ass.” So for the UK release, the Jolson feature was retitled “Hallelujah, I’m a Tramp.” Which would suggest something quite different to an American audience, of course.
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Leave it to those movie guys. Who would have thought that they simulated rain by using water?
 How many otherwise great movies have been ruined by inserted scenes using back projection? The jarring note of artificiality absolutely kills the comedy in a couple of Laurel and Hardy movies (County Hospital, for one). I guess contemporary audiences didn’t notice, but the frequently washed-out look of the background practically screams “they’re on a set!”
“Shewing?” That’s archaic British usage. As a matter of fact, by the time they printed the other side of Card 17, nobody was saying “shewing” anymore. The more contemporary “showing” was used instead.
 British Film Studios – An Illustrated History, by Patricia Warren, covers over 90 filmmaking establishments, some of which lasted just a year or two, while others, like Lime Grove in Shepherd’s Bush, spanned decades. Some studios were converted or repurposed when they outlived their usefulness; others went up in flames; and at least one (Teddington) was bombed out of business during World War II. But only temporarily: Teddington was rebuilt and occupies a warm spot in the hearts of those who have spent their life savings buying the complete Avengers TV series, which was shot in and around Teddington.
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 Alas, after serving as a TV studio for many years, Lime Grove was decommissioned in 1991. It was torn down and replaced with residential housing. The advent of “virtual sets” means there’s less and less need for huge studio spaces. Models and props are also likely to be “built” using computer software. They don’t make ‘em like they used to.
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 Frank Capra shot the final scenes for “Meet John Doe” in a refrigerated warehouse so that the breath of his actors could be seen; James Cameron digitally added visible breaths, one at a time, to Titanic during post-production. There are easier ways to do nearly everything today, and my guess is that the befogged figures of card 20 would have been happier without those smoke-pots just out of camera range. It so damn foggy, in fact, that I’m not quite sure whether there are two or three actors in there.
The man responsible for the demise of Lime Grove as a film studio was John Davis, an argumentative accountant who somehow managed to sneak his way up to become head of the J. Arthur Rank Organisation. Decommissioning was his specialty; when he married Dinah Sheridan, he ordered her to give up her acting career, even turning down offers on her behalf. (It would have been Dinah Sheridan rather than Glynis Johns as the princess in Danny Kaye’s The Court Jester, had Davis not intervened). Only after they were married did “J.D.,” as he was known, admit to Dinah that she wasn’t actually his third wife… but rather his fifth.
 According to Dinah, ” When [Davis] came [home] he would go upstairs to bathe and change his clothes. He would lie in the bath and through the house we would hear an absolute satanic chortle. “What is Daddy laughing about?” The children would ask. “I don’t know,” I told them, but I did. I had learned what made John chuckle like that. I was quite sure that he was remembering some ghastly thing he had done to somebody or a plan he was working on to make someone either physically or mentally uncomfortable.”
 To rectify the situation at Lime Grove, Davis decided to “slash budgets and sell off everything that did not immediately affect the survival of Rank’s Pinewood Studio,” according to Patricia Warren. He also fired scores of long-time employees, which must have given him many bathtub chuckles.
Didn’t realize I’d be writing about Dinah rather than the clapper boy, but so be it.
When Dinah asked J.D. for a divorce, he told her that his organization couldn’t stand the bad publicity such an event would create. “The solution is for you to sign a contract to remain a housewife, mother and hostess – no longer considering yourself my wife. I will get the contract drawn up. Go to Ronnie Leach (the Rank Organization’s financial brains) and he’ll tell you the name of a solicitor. We have to do this properly.”
Dinah finally got her divorce from Davis, but it was a battle. She immediately returned to acting and to the London stage, and much of her best work (including her favorite film, The Railway Children) was still ahead of her.
Having been a celebrated film studio, Lime Grove also went on to greater things in its subsequent incarnation as a BBC Television studio. In fact, Lime Grove logged more years as a TV studio than it did as a film studio.
 There are some great pictures of the original silent studio here. Lime Grove looked more like a greenhouse than anything else – most studios did in the early days. A complete history of the BBC’s use of the facility for TV can also be found at the link above. There’s a great little 8mm ‘behind the scenes’ film shot by a TV crew member here.
[2021 note: This isn't necessarily the recording of "You Are the One I Love" originally shared by Don.]
The show being taped when the ‘home movie’ was shot included a performance by the Temperance Seven. Remember them? Well, then, I’ll send you off with my favorite Temperance Seven song, which appropriately blends two distinct musical eras.
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British cigarette cards are colorful, interesting, plentiful, and reasonably priced. How so many of them survived is anybody’s guess, but you’ve got to be glad they did. This set, How Films Are Made, is especially interesting, taking us behind the scenes at Gaumont-British Picture Corporation Ltd.
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There’s only so much room on the back of a card 1 and 3/8th inches wide by 2 and 9/16th inches long, so a little additional information about Gaumont-British is in order. The facility illustrated on the cards is the Lime Grove Studio in Shepherd’s Bush (later also known as the Gainsborough Studio), as it appeared in the mid-1930’s. A film mentioned on Card 10, Rome Express (1932), was the first big production shot at Lime Grove and may account for the fact that many of these cards feature railroad scenes.
   In the early days of cinema, 1898, to be precise, Leon Gaumont hired two men – the Bromhead brothers – to function as the English distributors for the films Gaumont made in France. The brothers did well with Gaumont’s films, but soon realized that the real money was in production.
So the Bromheads started producing animated cartoons and, in 1910, began the Gaumont Graphic, one of the earliest British newsreels. Thanks to their connections with Gaumont, the brothers were were able to film some of their subjects in sound and/or color (Gaumont’s Chronophone and Chronochrome processes).
Slowly, the brothers’ film distribution office in Shepherd’s Bush added production capabilities, and by 1915, they had built a true studio, named it Lime Grove, and moved into feature film production.
  No, they’re not shooting a cowboy movie in England; that’s a tri-corner, not a Stetson.
 Between 1915 and 1926, Gaumont-British made some well-received films at the Lime Grove studio: they adapted Gaumont’s wildly successful French Fantomas franchise into a British version.
Can’t resist a slight detour to consider the Fantomas books, which are a precursor to both E.C. Comics and Al-Qaeda. You won’t find anything involving nuns that’s nearly as unusual as the the shoot-out over an empty coffin in Le Cercueil Vide… at least until Peter Cook invented the Order of the Leaping Beryllians, placing nuns on trampolines in the mid-sixties.
According to the Fantomas Lives website, Fantomas is “…the Lord of Terror, the Genius of Evil, the arch-criminal anti-hero of a series of 32 pre-WWI French thrillers written by Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain. He carries out the most appalling crimes: substituting sulfuric acid in the perfume dispensers at a Parisian department store, releasing plague-infested rats on an ocean liner, or forcing a victim to witness his own execution by placing him face-up in a guillotine. A rebellious henchman is hung in a huge bell as a human clapper, smashing from side to side and raining blood, sapphires and diamonds onto the street below. Masked bandits brandishing revolvers crash a city bus through the walls of a bank, sending money flying everywhere. Under grey Parisian skies, a horse-drawn cab gallops down the road, a wide-eyed corpse as its coachman. “
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Gaumont-British made a four-part serial titled Ultus: The Man From The Dead (1916), which is the only silent British ‘chapter play’ that survives (and it’s not complete). Also filmed were Ultus and the Secret of the Night (1916), Ultus and the Grey Lady (1916) and Ultus and the Three Button Mystery (1917).
   Note that the Gaumont-British Continuity Girl seems quite unhappy. This is because she knows what results when she fails to perform her job well: Bad Continuity.
And speaking of continuity, we’ll finish the remaining 15 cards of our Gaumont-British Lime Grove Studio tour – and the rest of the of the G-B story – in our next post.
I’m reading… make that listening to… Born Standing Up, the new book by Steve Martin. You can listen to free excerpts from the audio book at Simon and Schuster.
If you’ve never seen “The Absent-Minded Waiter,” the short film that opened his live shows at college campuses around the country some 25-30 years ago, it’s well worth a look.
[2021 note: Don's link in the preceding paragraph to a YouTube video, now gone, has been replaced with one to another YouTube video of the same short.]
Charley Rose has three interviews with Steve.
Martin used to read and re-read magic catalogs when he wasn’t reading Uncle Scrooge or Little Lulu. It’s easy to spend hours with the magic catalogs; every page is jammed with small type. These days, you can buy your tricks online, and see them performed first in online videos.
Here’s a trick from Vick Lawston’s 1963 catalog. It packs flat, it’s light-weight, it’s easy to carry, and it costs only 50 cents. Pony Not Included; User assembly required.
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Isn’t Life Terrible? "Isn't Life Terrible" is a Charley Chase short from 1925. The title was derived from a 1924 D.W. Griffith film, "Isn't Life Wonderful?" Other Charley Chase film titles that ask questions are "What Price Goofy?" (1925), "Are Brunettes Safe?" (1927), and "Is Everybody Happy?" (1928). Chase abandoned his titles with question marks for titles with exclamation points during the sound era.
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Isn't Life Terrible moved from Blogger to WordPress in May of 2010. As a result, some links in older posts were broken. If you encounter one, let us know by leaving a comment on the post with the broken link, and we'll move it to the top of our "to-fix" list.
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