​Not sure if you folks on the east know, but we here on the “left” coast have a total of five seasons. The gentle kiss of Spring turns to the dog days of summer, raging into the hell that is our 5th season, Fire. As quickly as the sunsets turn beautiful, the air becomes deadlier. So, a special thanks to gas guzzlers, hamburger eaters, polluters, and deniers. We owe it all to you. 
 
You have to admit, it has been an exciting couple of weeks, and I thought I would celebrate with a Jonathan Winters story. Unlike the let-down of meeting another comic idol, Pat Paulson (perhaps we will cover that story at a later date), meeting Jonathan Winters did not disappoint and was a highlight of my life. Not only was he one of my dad’s favorite comedians, but he also soon became mine as well. His characters and improvisation were legendary, and his legendary capture and stay at the mental institution only sealed my love for my comedy idol.
 
While living in Portland, Art Krug and I were on our way to a Triple-A baseball game and decided to stop at the nearby Mallory Hotel for a drink before the first pitch. Hanging out by himself in the lobby was none other than the man himself, and since an opportunity like this only comes once in a lifetime, we decided to say hello.
 
Of course, we told us we were comics and that we had just stopped off for a drink before the game, and before our eyes, the transformation happened. All of a sudden, he was the Commissioner of baseball, pontificating on America’s favorite pastime. It was an entire routine with the voice, the eyes, everything. It was short of brilliant, and it was hilarious. Soon, a crowd gathered, and the routine continued. And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. We thanked him and left, forever changed from our exchange with a true legend of comedy.

(Note: The above image was a result of a google search of the word "connections" and as much as the author can tell, has nothing to do with the subject below. It is funny though.

So I am researching and cruising through IMDB Pro, and “what to my wondering eyes should appear?” No, not St. Nick and his eight tiny reindeer. But something just as wondering. I saw these words - 
 
“Shared Connections”
 
They’re literally everywhere you look. It’s like the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon Game – only different. These people you worked with and their connection with someone you haven’t.  There’s a term for this somewhere. Uh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. We’ve talked about it before. 
 
Networking!
 
Reach out and chat with the connection. Pick up the phone, check-in, meet for coffee, and ask about the family, the cat, and the repossessed car. You will be surprised at what you learn. It may even lead to something else we talked about before. It’s called…
 
Leads!
 
Okay, I have done enough patronizing for one day. I have been talking to you like you are all six. Sorry,  Which brings up one final thing. Uh –
 
Goodbye.
 
(This heat has got me so exhausted)


 

​For the sake of fairness, I will not comment on the splendid dunes of Florence, Oregon. Where, for a small fee, you can ride in a buggy driven by some guy who has seen too many Fast and Furious movies and possibly break your neck. There is no spice here, so I will leave this to someone with a travel blog.
 
I am talking about adaptations of Dune by Frank Herbert. And lord knows there have been a few, so let’s get started. 
 
Worst to Best, and here we go.
 
Dune: The Si Fi Channel Mini Series. (Partial viewing) Although a pretty faithful adaptation of Frank Herbert’s vision, it does answer the question: what would a Community College Theatre Department do if they had 20 million dollars and the participation of William Hurt? In fairness to William Hurt (and the community college), I only watched an hour.
 
Dune: An Allan Smithee Film. (One viewing) I guess Allan did not get a chance to finish this film, as the Fremen’s blue eyes blink on and off like traffic lights. This film answers the age-old question: Can a room full of Italian monkeys edit a film? Uh, only Alan Smithee knows for sure.
 
Dune (Part One): (Denis Villeneuve) (Countless views). Or, as it has been called by many, Sleepy Star Wars. I like this version in spite of itself. Sometimes, it takes itself a bit too seriously, as if everyone involved has a copy of Uta Hagen’s Respect for Acting tucked away in their rubber stillsuit.  As I said, do like this version.
 
Jodorowsky's Dune: (three viewings) This film is a must-see for anyone interested in a descent into madness. It does what Coppola wanted to do with Apocalypse Now: a true descent into madness. Well, actually, the man who taught us to turn human feces into gold was already crazy; this movie just affirms it.  This documentary ranks high because any film promising artist Dali as Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV Corrino is worth its weight in, eh, crap.
 
David Lynch’s Dune: (countless viewings) A truly unique version of the classic as envisioned by the director of Elephant Man, Eraser Head, and Twin Peaks. This is Dune as envisioned by an artist: colorful, quirky, and insane. One would really like to see what it would have been if Dino De Laurentiis had not decided to squeeze six Saturday screenings in your local multi-plex.
 
 Drumroll, please.
 
Dune II (Denis Villeneuve) (Countless views) With all the dire seriousness of his first, the accelerated plot twists of the latter half of the book come alive in this lively adaptation. The addition of Austin Butler/Elvis as Feyd, is brilliant casting and, with a few exceptions, is faithful to Herbert’s vision of life, love and giant worms on a desert planet. 

And now, Toto!

​“They may take my prostate, but they will never take my spirit!”  William Wallace.
 
Anyone who visits this site knows that on the rare occasions when the muse takes a much-needed vacation, I will either pawn this space over to another writer, compose a list, or write a review or two.
 
This is your lucky day because I have three movies worth talking about today.
 
 
Bank of Dave (Rory Kinnear, Joel Fry, directed by Chris Foggin, written by Piers Ashworth):  Based on a true story, this is the feel-good film of 2024, a reminder of what we are capable of once we put our minds to something. Funny, warm, and very much worth your time. (Added bonus: Rory Kinnear singing with AC/DC!)
 
 
American Fiction (Jeffrey Wright, written and directed by Cord Jefferson) We are six months into the year, and I am already calling it the best picture of the year. Intelligent, challenging, witty, and a triumphant performance by Mr. Wright
 
Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F (Eddie Murphy, directed by Mark Molloy and written by a few guys):  Eddie Murphy’s return as Axel F is a welcome addition to our summer. He looks good, his timing is great, and while the rest of the movie fails to live up to Eddie’s performance, it is still a solid B. Where it fails mostly in the pedestrian directing of some of the bigger action set pieces. But, hey, it was great to see Axel and the old gang together again.
 
Okay, I am exhausted.