Adele's Twin Sister

Separated at Birth:  Grammy Award winning singer Adele...

...and non-Grammy Award winning singer, actress, weight-lifter Varla Jean Merman.

Adele...........

..........Varla Jean Merman.  She's in the yellow dress with fellow cast members from the 2003 indie Hollywood-on-Hollywood comedy movie, Girls Will Be Girls.

If you want 80 minutes of fast and naughty laughs while enjoying some festive beverages and a platter of nachos, rent Girls Will Be Girls.  You'll also be treated to a remarkable comic acting performance from Jack Plotnick as Evie, the aging blonde has-been Hollywood B-movie actress.  Watching her is like watching a train wreck.

Plotnick was seen regularly on Comedy Central's Reno 911!  Also, he played the awkward interviewer meeting a famous horror film director in the Oscar-winning Gods and Monsters.  As for Jack Plotnick's Evie -- not since Dustin Hoffman as Dorothy Michaels in Tootsie has a man given such a detailed, nuanced and funny film performance playing a female.  Coco Peru co-stars in this Hollywood spoof and, in a brief role years before award-winning success on ABC's Modern Family, Eric Stonestreet as Dr. Benson.  When you see Jack Plotnick, Clinton Leupp (as redhead Coco Peru) and Jeffrey Robertson (as Varla Jean Merman) as three actresses this indie comedy, you will just want to slap Hollywood executives for paying Adam Sandler millions to play Jack and Jill.  Great work.  Turner Classic Movies released a DVD set of 1950s movies -- the kind of black and white movies that probably colored Evie's dreams of stardom and reserved parking spaces on studio lots.  TCM's new DVD set is called "Women In Danger: 1950s Thrillers."

For some weekend summer fun with friends, I recommend food, drink and a double feature:  Girls Will Be Girls and, from that TCM collection, Female on the Beach.  This 1955 thriller stars Joan Crawford, Jeff Chandler and Jan Sterling.

Before Joan's character gets some sand in her shorts with Chandler as the neighborhood handyman, she snaps out lines like "You're about as friendly as a suction pump."  These two recommended movies are why the Good Lord created Margaritas.  Enjoy.

With Dad and Rita Hayworth

If I ever got a book deal to pen a memoir or a collection of essays, I'd most certainly write something about Dad.  One of the most complicated, turbulent yet ultimately touching relationships I've had in my life was the relationship with my late father.  True, if I had written a children's book based on my early years with him, I could've called it Daddy, My Head Is Not a Piñata!  He had a scary temper that appeared suddenly and wreaked physical havoc.  Like a twister.  In those unexpected moments of rage, Dad just plain forgot that he was bigger than the little boy receiving his severe physical punishment. One time Dad hit me in the head so hard with a hurled object that it broke my skin and drew droplets of blood.  Fortunately, that kind of stuff all ended by the time I started 4th grade.  Then there were times Dad could make me happier than any kid on the block.  Like the Christmas he gave my my first classic movie reference book.

I was in grade school.  My brawny dad may have been blind to the fact that he was bigger than I was but he did notice that I was fascinated with old movies on television.  I'd ask him who the people in them were.  "That's Fred Astaire" or "That's James Cagney," Dad would answer.  I was so happy with that book.  It was like a big pictorial passport to a wonderful new world.  Before I'd finished the sixth grade, I learned so much from that book and others that I could correct my father when he watched TV.   Mom once asked him what he was watching.  He said, "Susan Hayward.  Cover Girl." I was sitting on the floor in front of our TV.  "No, Daddy, that's not Susan Hayward.  It's Rita Hayworth.  Rita Hayworth in Cover Girl."  Dad was a weight lifter in his youth.  A native-born Texan. A veteran of World War II who served overseas in Europe.  I still recall the expression on his face when I corrected him about Cover Girl.  Like he was new figure on Easter Island.

My parents divorced when I was on the brink of beginning high school.  Dad and I had not seen each other in 20 years, when I took a few steps forward towards reconnection and reconciliation in the early 1990s.  He'd married again and divorced again.  I flew to see him in Seattle.  That first meeting was a little nervous but I went there without great  expectations and without anger.  I just wanted to see him.  I'd heard he had attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.  I never ever saw him get out of control with alcohol nor did I ever smell it on his breath when I was a kid.  That news was a shock and surprise to me.  When I was a youngster, if Dad had a 6-pack in the refrigerator, it would be about 5 days until all the beers were gone.  Gingerly, I asked him about it.  "I could never do what you do," he answered.  "I could never get on TV and talk.  I'd be too scared.  When I was young, I used to drink to steady my nerves in public."  Dad was a tough-looking but shy man.  I asked him if he still attended the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.  "No," he said.

"Why, Dad?" I asked.  "They can help you."

Dad said, "It was that public speaking thing.  I just couldn't get up in front of people and say 'I'm an alcoholic.'  You know...like Rita Hayworth in I'll Cry Tomorrow."

I looked down so he wouldn't think I was laughing at him with the smile on my face.  I didn't correct him and say "THAT was Susan Hayward.  Susan did I'll Cry Tomorrow and Rita Hayworth did Cover Girl."  Though the first steps were awkward, we were both on a road to recovery.  In 2000, he was hospitalized for a couple of days.  On the phone, he made me whoop with laughter telling me a story about his short hospital stay. He'd made me cry as a kid when he whipped me but he'd never really made me laugh.  Several months later, before he passed, his last words to me at the end of another very pleasant conversation were, "I love you, Son."  I said, "I love you too, Dad."  At one time, for a long time, I told myself those were words I'd never say. But I said them.  And I meant them.

On Neil Patrick Harris

I wish a very happy birthday to versatile, skilled and charismatic actor/singer Neil Patrick Harris.  I first  saw his talent in the 1988 movie Clara's Heart, starring Whoopi Goldberg.  She was a half-hour guest on my VH1 talk show.  She raved about his young talents.  I know folks who know him and, through the years, three things were constantly mentioned about Harris -- his kindness, his talent, his sexual orientation.  Now we all know that he's gay and has a partner.  We dig NPH as host of the Tony Awards.  He makes us laugh as the womanizer, Barney, on the sitcom How I Met Your Mother.  I am so glad I'm here to see that kind of a career thrive on TV.  It's progress.  When I was new in television, back in the early 1980s, that kind of wonderful career just didn't happen.

The one gay entertainer I saw regularly on TV when I was growing up was the late Paul Lynde.  We just got that vibe from him when he was magical Uncle Arthur on Bewitched, a sitcom that embraced and promoted diversity, and The Hollywood Squares.  Lynde was so hysterically funny on the game show that maybe we didn't realize the bravery of his work on it.  He never said that he was gay but he didn't exactly hide the fact either.  He only pretended to be straight when he comically played married men in movies like Bye Bye Birdie and Under the Yum Yum Tree.  When Rosie O'Donnell fell in love again and got engaged earlier this year, that was the feel-good top entertainment news story of the day.  We sent each other messages on how touching that was.  A same-sex celebrity engagement story prompted good wishes from fans all across the country.  Rosie and I were both veejays on VH1 in the late 80s.  In those days, the country was still in the black grip of the AIDS crisis.  In addition to that, many people didn't come out for fear of losing work and being shunned by family.  In my youth, Hollywood had instilled leading men with the fear that playing gay characters would kill their careers.  Today, planting a big kiss on another guy could get you an invite to Hollywood Prom Night.  William Hurt, Tom Hanks, Javier Bardem, Sean Penn, Greg Kinnear, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Colin Firth all got Oscar nominations for playing gay men.  I loved working on VH1.  I think Rosie did too.  I'm sure we both wondered about life after VH1.  Could we be gay and continue to get work without having to deal with a lot of bigoted bullshit?  I had diversity issues of color and sexual orientation to deal with in my career.  In 1990, I had meetings with Disney's Buena Vista for a possible syndicated celebrity talk show.  Disney's folks liked my VH1 work.  Before a big meeting, I got a "we'd like to apologize in advance" warning.  A top exec was known to say things that were not...well, let's say "enlightened."  We all went into that VP's office.  Halfway through the meeting, I realized why I'd received that apology.  He said something like this: "I've seen a lot of your shows and, frankly, some of your material seems a bit gay.  Should I be concerned about that?"  Others in the room were obviously embarrassed.  My response was:  "Your recent big hit here on the lot is The Little Mermaid.  A red-headed sea creature singing showtunes and wearing a clam-shell bra.  Can you honestly tell me that's a totally heterosexual production?"

They all laughed. It broke the short tension. But I made my point. Unfortunately, the deal didn't work out.  That exec, by the way, was later let go.  Three years later, I was a regular on a local morning news show in New York City.  On the live news show, I was supposed to be lively, funny, entertaining and informative.  Off-camera, my partner had been diagnosed with full-blown AIDS.  A few other gay men I knew who also worked at the company strongly urged me to keep quiet about my home life so the station wouldn't use that as a reason to downsize me.  I thought, "Are you kidding me?  This is New York City!" But I couldn't risk it.  I was taking care of myself, my terminally ill partner and helping to pay my mom's mortgage with my jobs.  And that was my main gig.  Not feeling free to speak about my partner's illness while trying to balance that job with being a caregiver was like muffling a scream.  I quit that over a year later, after his death, because of diversity issues. The news director wouldn't air an interview of Harvey Fierstein that I taped when the multiple Tony Award winning actor/playwright was promoting his role in the hit comedy, Mrs. Doubtfire.  There was absolutely nothing inappropriate in that interview.  The news director said, "I have a problem with him being openly gay."  I told Harvey and the film's publicist why the interview didn't air.  That's the kind of bullshit I didn't want.  Today, that wouldn't happen.  Today, I could probably be on a news show and share with co-workers and viewers that a loved one in my life was critically ill -- the way Katie Couric did when her dear husband, Jay, was stricken with cancer.  Today, my two little nephews and their mom are crazy about daytime talk show host, Ellen DeGeneres.  I know how they feel.  I'd love to meet and thank her one day.

Today, Don Lemon is an openly gay anchor on CNN.  He's written a memoir telling about his journey to "coming out" in television.  A black and openly gay news anchor.  Wow.

Rosie O'Donnell had a couple of talk shows.  Carson Kressley, Nate Berkus and Bravo TV's Andy Cohen all became popular and openly gay national TV hosts.  Groovy Neil Patrick Harris can play that babe-chasing Barney on a sitcom, sing showtune parodies as host of the Tony Awards and pose with his husband on the red carpet.  Work it, NPH!  It's something to see, this kind of history.  Something I never thought I'd see.  I pitched writing a piece on this for Huffington Post.  Never got a response though. Big applause to all those TV performers and actors.  Big applause to executives who embraced diversity.  Neil Patrick Harris, have a most fabulous birthday and an equally fabulous Father's Day with your partner and kids.  So proud of you.

Meeting Sandra Lee

It was a cold autumn Sunday morning in the Chelsea section of New York City in 2002.  All of us returning and new hosts on Food Network were assembled to pose for promotional photos and shoot promotional footage for the network.  I was the host of a new program called Top 5, a spin-off from Unwrapped, a popular program hosted by my buddy Marc Summers.  Neither one of us cooked on our shows.  Both of us are 1980s veterans of MTV Networks fare.  He was the host of Double Dare.  I was a veejay on VH1.  Marc and I were chatting.  The other hosts and execs were milling around, waiting for shots to be set up and what-not.  All of a sudden, I see a slender blonde rushing over to me as if she's going to ask for help.  It was soon-to-be Food Network star Sandra Lee.

She'd premiere in a show that, like her magazine, teaches folks how to make snacks 'n' things for all sorts of occasions and all sorts of seasons.

She politely interrupted Marc and, with wide eyes, gushed to me, "I just love your work!"  That was immediately followed by non-stop compliments on my charisma and chemistry every morning on TV... "with Matt and Katie."  Yes.  Sandra Lee thought I was Al Roker.

I guess it was an understandable mistake considering that Al and I are both black men who wear glasses.  I think Marc Summers was biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing at this encounter.  I just let her keep talking for nearly a minute or more.  I really couldn't get a word in edge-wise.  And she didn't notice that I had the same exact expression on my face that Imogene, the teen maid, had on her face working for Miss Trixie in the movie Paper Moon.  (That's Imogene in the back seat.)

The moment she took a breath, I calmly replied "Thank you, but I'm not Al Roker.  He'll be here later."  She turned the color of a Strawberry Daiquiri, apologized and dashed away from me as if her pumps were on fire.  She never talked to me again.

Sandra Lee is now the girlfriend of Andrew Cuomo, Governor of New York State.  I wonder if she fixes him snacks 'n' things.  I hope, by now, she got to meet Al Roker.  Bless her heart.

Meeting Rita Moreno

Rita Moreno.  ¡La Leyenda!  Love her, I truly do.  Ever since the first time I saw West Side Story on network television when I was a kid in South Central Los Angeles, I have been fascinated with the work of actress Rita Moreno.  Not just fascinated.  I've been enlightened, educated and -- of course -- entertained by her work.  You know that Moreno became the first Puerto Rican actress to win the Academy Award.  She won for her singing, dancing and dramatic acting in the classic movie musical, West Side Story.  It also won the Oscar for Best Picture of 1961.

Love me some Rita Moreno as Anita in West Side Story.  When she was on that NYC rooftop and sang the words "I love the island Manhattan," I wanted to be the Latina sister behind her in the red dress who responds "I know you do!"  Moreno was not the first Puerto Rican to win an Oscar for acting.  José Ferrer was Best Actor of 1950 for playing French character Cyrano de Bergerac.  He won by a nose.

 Rita Moreno was the first Puerto Rican actor to win an Oscar for playing a Puerto Rican.

She and dancer/actor George Chakiris, the son of Greek immigrants, were the only cast members nominated for Oscars.  He won Best Supporting Actor.

In 2000, I was the weekly entertainment editor/movie critic on Lifetime Live, a live weekday show on Lifetime Television produced by ABC News.  I did the Friday shows.  Rita Moreno was booked one afternoon as a live in-studio guest.  But not on a Friday.  I went to the studio on my day off just so I could meet her, shake her hand and thank her.  I've blogged before that I've had to crash through several color barriers in my career.  That's pretty much a given for us minority performers.  In the early days of my career, when I was determined to get some stage and film experience, I'd constantly hear "the part wasn't written for a black actor."  I'd counter with "Rita Moreno played Annie Sullivan in a Broadway revival of The Miracle Worker.  And she got great reviews."  She was my example and my motivation to crash through those color barriers. If someone hinted that I was the wrong color for a part that really wasn't race specific for the actor, her career was my weapon in my fight to be considered for the part.  Ms. Moreno had finished the interview and was standing in the hallway outside of our greenroom. My favorite segment producer introduced us.  I felt like an altar boy serving mass on Christmas morning.  I was giddy and reverent. I told her what I just told you, starting with the fact that I grew up in South Central LA, with black and Mexican American neighbors, and was a kid in the riot-torn Watts community of the 1960s.  When I got to the part about her taking on the Anne Bancroft's Annie Sullivan in The Miracle Worker, her eyes beamed and she said, "Yes!"  Then, Rita Moreno took my hands like a loving mother, leaned forward, looked me squarely in the eyes and sweetly began, "Hijito, (son), whenever someone tells you that can't do something...and you know in your heart that you can do it......fuck em!"  Then she hugged me, kissed me and had her assistant pull out an 8x10 glossy that she autographed.  Rita Moreno was everything I'd hoped she be.  And more.  Fabulous.  The fact that she has only one Oscar nomination to her credit is more proof Hollywood needs to get it together with opportunities for minority actresses.  The fact that she never got an Emmy nomination during six seasons of strong work as the prison nun/psychologist in HBO's Oz series is a sin and a shame.  You agree?  "I know you do!"

"Star Wars": Did You Know?

Today, if you asked a few network entertainment reporters to name a powerful black person in the movie business, the reporters would probably answer "Tyler Perry."  Let me give you some Hollywood history. Did you know that, back in 1977, a black man helped make Star Wars a box office and pop culture phenomenon for 20th Century Fox?

He's the same man who turned around the financial fate of a campy counter-culture musical comedy.  It was a stage hit but the 1975 movie version was pretty much dead at the box office.  He came up with the idea of midnight screenings across the country for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and a pop culture weekend youth ritual was born.  Young folks bonded with that "sweet transvestite" and other colorful characters.  The Rocky Horror Picture Show found nocturnal life at the box office.

Before those two films, he worked on another movie adaptation of a hit stage musical.  West Side Story won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 1961.

The late Ashley Boone was one of the first black movie executives in Hollywood and one of the most important people in major movie studio marketing and film distribution.  He worked for MGM/UA, Columbia Pictures and -- most notably -- at 20th Century Fox during a very turbulent period in its executive offices.  He was the highest-ranking black executive in Hollywood.  Insiders say Ashley Boone may have even been running 20th Century Fox for a few months.  Entertainment journalist and Turner Classic Movies host  Robert Osborne would have the scoop on that fact.  During Boone's time at Fox, he was the mastermind behind the marketing of Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, The Turning Point (Oscar nominee for Best Picture of 1977 along with Star Wars) and Ridley Scott's Alien.  Boone also steered the marketing campaign for another film directed by Ridley Scott -- Thelma & Louise, a film that earned Oscar nominations for Geena Davis and former Rocky Horror Picture Show star, Susan Sarandon (wearing the cool shades).

I first became aware of Ashley Boone in the first years of my TV career.  During the early 1980s, I was in Hollywood taping celebrity interviews thanks to movie junkets for entertainment press.  One of the cameramen told me I resembled Boone somewhat.  Was it a compliment?  I didn't know who Ashley Boone was.  The cameraman and a couple of other crew members spoke warmly and respectfully of Boone.  They told me he was someone whose history I should know because he'd broken through color barriers.  And those were white guys telling me that.  Apparently Mr. Boone was not the kind of man to seek the Hollywood spotlight. He just did his work. He did it brilliantly.  His sister, Cheryl Boone Isaacs, has years of being a respected executive on the Paramount lot to her credit.  Hollywood knew Cheryl and Ashley as the first brother and sister to serve as governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.  They were definitely the first black brother and sister to serve concurrently as governors, that's for sure.

Why is this significant?  We're over ten years into the 21st Century.  It's still rare to see African-American film critics on network TV news programs.  Black folks are rarely, if ever, seen in the kind of regular film host/interviewer spot that renowned gents like Robert Osborne and James Lipton did.  If you see a TV show or film in which a character is a top Hollywood movie executive, how often is an African-American actor in that role?  I think you get my point.  Chariots of Fire was another film Mr. Boone helped put on the Oscar track.  It won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 1981.  He taught at USC Film School.  Ashley Boone was stricken with pancreatic cancer.  He passed away in 1994 at age 55.  He opened some big doors for a lot of people, black and white, male and female.  Ashley Boone, "The force will be with you, always."

Burt Lancaster: Did You Know?

When I was a kid, a new movie starring Burt Lancaster was a good enough reason for Mom and Dad to decide the family was going to a Saturday night movie at the drive-in.  I don't think they even cared what the film was about or what the film's reviews were.  If Burt Lancaster was in it, that was all they needed to know.  Mom would make sandwiches and other snacks for us to take in the car.  My little sister and I would have to put our pajamas on underneath our street clothes to make getting ready for bed a lot easier and faster when we all got home late.  Burt Lancaster truly did look larger than life to me when I sat in the back seat of our family car and watched him fill the screen as the salesman-turned-evangelist named Elmer Gantry.  This film adaptation of Sinclair Lewis' novel was a perfect fit for Lancaster.  He believed that entertainment could also enlighten and educate.  This movie was social commentary.  Highly entertaining, well-acted social commentary.  Gantry loved hard liquor and loose women. Now he gets folks to empty their pockets as he preaches with a Bible in his hand.

That robust performance was the second of Lancaster's four Oscar nominations for Best Actor.  Elmer Gantry brought him the Hollywood gold for Best Actor of 1960.

His first nomination came for playing the tough Sgt. Warden in From Here To Eternity, directed by Fred Zinnemann and Oscar winner for Best Picture of 1953.

In it, he planted a kiss on Deborah Kerr that became the stuff dreams are made of for moviegoers.  In that particular beach scene,  I guess it's more specifically the stuff wet dreams are made of.  They made cinema history.  Ooh, baby, what a classic movie kiss!

Lancaster's third nomination came for the 1962 prison biopic, Birdman of Alcatraz, based on the life of Robert Stroud.  The convicted killer became a renowned self-taught bird expert.  Lancaster's last Oscar nomination for Best Actor was for his work as the aging smalltime gangster in 1980's Atlantic City. It co-starred Susan Sarandon.

Burt Lancaster was slated to star in another prison drama.  This 1985 film would get Academy Award nominations for Best Film and Best Director.  Lancaster was very enthusiastic about this foreign project but had to withdraw due to a minor heart problem.  He'd recuperate and work in other hit projects like 1989's Field of Dreams.  But doctor's orders forced him out of Hector Babenco's Kiss of the Spider Woman.  Burt Lancaster was replaced by William Hurt and Hurt's outstanding work brought him the Best Actor Academy Award.  Yes, big butch Burt Lancaster was set to play the flaming gay Latin American prisoner, a window dresser named Luis Molina.

I got that information back in the previous century from William Hurt himself.  The actor was a guest on my VH1 talk show.  Hurt was promoting his new film, The Accidental Tourist.  I hadn't known about Lancaster's involvement with the Babenco film.  However, I saw the film in theatrical release a few times.  I loved it.  In the closing credits, I noticed a "Special Thanks."  In the short list of those thanked, Burt Lancaster was the top name.  I asked Hurt if the veteran star was a Kiss of the Spider Woman producer.  No.  Hurt told me Lancaster deeply believed in the film.  Babenco had trouble raising money to finance it.  Lancaster knew his name would help attract financing. He also loved the script.  If you think Lancaster would've been too old, rent the movie and watch it again.  Hurt stepped in as a replacement.  No dialogue was changed.  He was in his early 30s, still a handsome young popular actor.  But, as Molina, he calls himself as "an old queen."  He shares a prison cell with a straight Latin American political rebel named Valentin (Raul Julia).

This is a tale of political, emotional and sexual oppression and the tolls those oppressions take on one's spirit.  In an argument, Valentin shouts as Luis "Stop crying! You sound just like an old woman!"  Luis cries back, "It's what I am!  It's what I am!"  Babenco's film opens with a long monologue from Luis.  He escapes into glamorous old movies and constantly details the movie plots to his serious cellmate.  With gestures, of course.  We're seeing a film about denied freedoms.  It opens with images drawn on a wall.  We see the sun and a bird in flight in front on it.  Next to those we see the shadow of bars on a window and we see clothespins on a line.  A cell is a residence.  On Luis' side of the cell are fan magazine photos of his favorite stars -- Marlene Dietrich, Lana Turner, Marlene Dietrich, Marilyn Monroe.  Hollywood movie goddesses from the 1930s to 1950s.  We think of Molina as being a younger man because, eventually, he was played by a younger actor.  But a younger actor was not the first choice.  Had Lancaster played Molina, he would've had yet another memorable movie kiss.  And not with the Spider Woman.

How cool that Burt Lancaster gave such support to a such a excellent, substantial and daring independent film.  It would've been very interesting to see Lancaster's interpretation of Luis Molina.  If you haven't seen Kiss of the Spider Woman, I highly recommend that you do.  Raul Julia (also a guest on my VH1 talk show in the late 80s) was just as remarkable as Hurt.  They were brilliant together.  Hurt, by the way, became the first actor to win an Oscar for playing an openly gay character.  There's some good movie trivia for June -- Gay Pride Month.  So...did you know that about Burt Lancaster?