'Don't fake it'

Get this.

You're down in Georgia, there to meet not just a movie star, but an American icon. He walks up to you in combat fatigues, looking every bit as big as his 6 foot, 4 inch frame. Although he's known to millions around the world, he sticks out his hand and smiles.

"John Wayne," he says by way of introduction, as if you didn't know.

Such was Roger Ebert's life.

Don't feel too well tonight. I think I've caught some kind of stomach bug. So, instead of making medicine with my buddy Matt Shelton -- I'm sure we would have screened yet another good bad movie -- I'm at home, finishing up Ebert's autobiography, "Life Itself."

Sometimes you don't realize just how much a person means to you until they're gone. That's how I feel about Ebert.

He was always there, on TV, bickering with Gene Siskel and, later and less successfully, with Richard Roeper; guesting on Carson or Letterman; ubiquitous with those two thumbs up (or down!). His movie reviews showed up in my email inbox about 9 a.m. every Friday, like clockwork.

Even after surgery silenced his voice, he was still there, tweeting and blogging away. I thought he'd live to be a hundred.

And then he died.

That weekend -- I'm sure I told you about it -- I watched "Citizen Kane" complemented by Ebert's commentary. And, you know what? A movie I've seen at least 20 times, discussed, enjoyed, mused over, loved, hated, taught to a high school class, learned about from UT professor Chuck Maland -- despite all that, Ebert taught me things I'd never noticed. Such was his gift.

Shelton has a collection of reviews of movies Ebert despised. One night, prompted by peer pressure and potent potables, I read a few of them in William Shatner's cadence. They are classics. Especially the one about a doomsday movie. Is it "Armageddon"? Bruce Willis on an asteroid? Anyway, it's a masterpiece.

In "Life Itself," Ebert writes about his Midwest childhood, about losing it at the movies, about newspapering in Chicago with Mike Royko and a true cast of characters, about drinking too much and sobering up, chatting on film shoots with Lee Marvin and Robert Mitchum, musing on mortality with Martin Scorsese.

As usual, I've collected a list of films to watch. Scorsese's first picture. Ebert's infamous attempt at a screenplay, "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls." Bergman's "Face to Face."

And you know what? He taught me something about writing that I've always believed but never heard verbalized.

"Focus on what you saw and how it affected you. Don't fake it."

I've always tried to write conversationally, sharing a story, telling the truth. I don't think readers are dumb. I think they can spot phony a mile away. But nothing sells like sincerity.

Leave it to Roger Ebert to say it best. He always did. 

The sixth sense

OK, you're going to think I'm nuts.

I don't care. Gotta tell this story.

Don't get the idea I'm a psychic aficionado or anything, but I do believe there's something to Extra Sensory Perception. ESP. See if you agree.

Submitted for your approval:

My friend Ross Southerland came to see me on my birthday. We hadn't talked about anything we'd do beyond eating at Litton's and watching some TV.



When he walked in the door I was watching my favorite movie, the 1969 John Wayne version of "True Grit." (You know, the real one.) I had also laid out a couple of "Magnum, p.i." and classic "Hawaii Five-O" DVDs to show Ross.

He looks at the TV screen, sees the Duke wearing an eye patch, looks in the corner at the stack of DVDs, and says, "You have to open this card now! I wrote this out a few days ago. I'm not kidding."



Sure enough, he had written something like "Happy birthday to Halls' version of 'True Grit'" and then made P.S. remarks about Magnum and Higgins!

We went nuts laughing. I couldn't believe it.

Fast-forward to last night. I'm up late, struggling with insomnia, when I decide to catalog some of my vinyl records. The two artists I catalogued were Elvis and the Carpenters.



When I finished, I decided to check my email. Sent 20 minutes before, while I was cataloguing the records, was an email from Ross -- ABOUT THE NIGHT ELVIS MET KAREN CARPENTER!

I was dumbfounded. Even though it was 1 a.m. I knew Ross is a night owl and would still be up. I called him.

The first words out of my mouth were, "Man, you're not going to believe this."

We went nuts laughing. Again.

Fast-forward to this morning. I'm listening to my iPod while I'm getting ready. Up pops the Carpenters' "Oldies Medley" from their 1973 "Now and Then" album.

I get to work. I tell co-worker Emily, "Hey, I went to Lost and Found Records last night and bought the rest of the Carpenters' vinyl I didn't already have," not yet mentioning my iPod experience earlier.

She says, "The album I remember most from childhood is the one with the frame cover. Didn't they do 'Fun, Fun Fun' on it?"



It was the same medley to which I'd listened this morning. Not kiddin'.

Call it coincidence. Call it the sixth sense. Call it ESP.

Whatever it is, it all happened. Just like that.

Maybe I've entered..."The Twilight Zone."

If a cigarette-holding, dressed-in-a-black-suit Rod Serling pops up and starts narrating, I'm going to the hospital...

UPDATE:After I posted this blog, I was reminded of two pieces of information that REALLY brings all this together. Duke Wayne wanted Karen Carpenter to play Mattie Ross in "True Grit." And Elvis was considered for the role that Glen Campbell ultimately played. How do you like them apples?

'A perfect picture'

At the dinner legendary director John Ford held as he wrapped production on his classic film "The Quiet Man," he reportedly said that this movie would be his epitaph.

And, in a strange way, Ford was correct.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, Ford made movies for another 12 years. Yes, two of them ("The Searchers" and "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance") are considered classics.

But, "The Quiet Man" was Ford's dream, and as film historian Don Calhoun pointed out in our recent interview, Pappy was never quite the same after his dream made it to the big screen.

Ford bought the rights to the Maurice Walsh short story in "The Saturday Evening Post" for $10 in 1933. He tried for years to get a studio to back the film adaptation, but nobody would touch it, figuring a quaint Irish tale wouldn't make money at the box office.

Finally, he struck a deal with Republic Pictures chief Herbert J. Yates. Republic would finance "The Quiet Man" if Ford would agree to film a western starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara (the leads in "The Quiet Man") for Republic. That movie became "Rio Grande."

Much of "The Quiet Man" was filmed in Ford's native Ireland. It centers around the love affair between Sean Thornton (Wayne) and Mary Kate Danaher (O'Hara). It is an idealized portrayal of Ireland, but was shot in brilliant Technicolor (a victory for Ford over the studio, which wanted to use its awful TruColor process), so it captures that country's trademark green countryside in all its glory.

The film's most famous scene is the long, climactic fight between Thornton and Mary Kate's brother Will, played to the hilt by Victor McLaglen. It, and any scene featuring Ward Bond as the town priest, are the best parts of the movie.

"The Quiet Man" was a huge hit at the box office and a personal and professional triumph for John Ford. He won an Academy Award as Best Director for this film.

As Calhoun noted in our interview, Ford never really recovered, though. He made a series of stinkers ("Donovan's Reef" represents the nadir in his long association with John Wayne) and his final film, "Cheyenne Autumn," is meandering and unwatchable.

But, he brought his dream to the screen, and it remains a testament to the best of his moviemaking. As Calhoun put it, "This is a perfect picture. It isn't my favorite, but it's a perfect picture."

Read the print interview with Don Calhoun this week at www.ShopperNewsNow.com. Tomorrow, I'll wrap up this week-long look at westerns by naming my favorite B-Western stars.

Sobering thoughts at 'High Noon'

Do not forsake me, oh my darlin', on this our wedding day...

Watching one of my favorite movies tonight. Fred Zinnemann's "High Noon," Gary Cooper, 1952, one man standing alone when the town refuses to help.

It's a western, sure, but it's more than that; it's an allegory, it's a fine story, it's a searing, bothersome examination into the dark recesses of human nature.

My pal Dean Harned and I disagree vehemently about the film. He co-opted his argument from John Wayne -- claiming that "High Noon" is "un-American," that no "true American" would refuse to help Coop's Marshal Will Kane defend the town against pardoned murderer Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald).

I'm not so sure.

"High Noon" was influenced by the McCarthy blacklisting of the '50s. Look at it through that lens and it's quite easy to picture the ugliness of which human beings are capable.

Overlook all that seriousness, though, and this is a darn good movie. Kane has just married the Quaker Amy Fowler (the serenely beautiful Grace Kelly) when he receives a telegram that Miller, a murderer he sent up the river 5 years ago, has been pardoned. Everyone -- including his wife -- urges Kane to get out of town. But he can't do it. Feels an obligation not to run.

Initially the town agrees to help. But, when push comes to shove, they abandon Kane, leaving him alone to face Miller and his gang.

Wayne so hated this film that he and Howard Hawks made "Rio Bravo" in 1959 to dispute it. Hate to say it, but Duke's response isn't anywhere near as good as this classic.

Leaders like Will Kane are few and far between these days. Sadly, I think you could throw a rock and find plenty of people like the cowering townsfolk in "High Noon."

I'm not a doomsday-ist. I don't believe that America is in decline. I don't think this country has seen its best days.

But I do think I've learned a little about human nature, and I dare say there's a little bit of the "High Noon" denizens in all of us. Will Kane is who we hope we are, the type of person we'd like to think we'd be given the circumstances, even if we often fall far short of such character.

It's a heavy lesson to learn -- one I've spent most of my life trying to ignore, but one that keeps proving itself time and time again in so many different circumstances.

Sobering thoughts indeed on a stormy Tuesday night.

'The Train Robbers': Duke Wayne and Ann-Margret hunt for gold in Texas

Dear Lord, if you're listening, send me a woman like Ann-Margret.

Oh, I'm kidding mostly. I want a woman with pretty eyes and a kind heart, who can discuss music and movies, baseball and books, all and nothing at all. But, wow, was Ann-Margret something back in the day...

Got home late from work last night and unwound on the couch with a Yuengling and Duke Wayne. Perfect combination, as it turned out.

Wayne teamed up with Elvis' former leading lady in this 1973 oater. It didn't win any Academy Awards, but it's a fun way to spend a couple of hours.

Ann-Margret plays Mrs. Lowe, a widow who says she's hunting for the gold her late husband stole, in order to turn it in and clear his name. Duke is Lane, the aging gunfighter who agrees to help.

Lane shows up on a Texas train with Mrs. Lowe. Waiting are Lane's buddies -- Grady (Rod Taylor) and Jesse (the underrated Ben Johnson). Along for the ride too are young guns Calhoun (Christopher George), Ben Young (the pop singer Bobby Vinton) and Sam (Jerry Gatlin).

Wayne was becoming a sentimental ol' codger in his old age and this movie is full of several quiet, unforgettable moments. Watching Ann-Margret and Ben Johnson swap stories around the campfire reminded me of Johnson's monologue to Timothy Bottoms in Peter Bogdanovich's "The Last Picture Show." He was such a natural actor, picture perfect as a cowboy's best buddy.

What is refreshing is that the producers didn't try to make Grandaddy Duke (he was crowding 70 when this film was made) romance the much-younger Ann-Margret. He even tells her at one point, "I have a saddle older than you, Mrs. Lowe." It strikes me as funny, too, that their characters share the same names with his and Geraldine Page's protagonists in 1953's "Hondo."

If I have any criticism, it's that this film feels like a 2-hour TV movie of the week instead of a big budget western. But, it's fun, it offers Wayne a few moments to utter some of his classic throwaway lines ("If anybody crosses that river before we clear out of here, Baptize 'em!") and it's the kind of picture that feels like a familiar old friend after a long, hard day. If popular American cinema is remembered at all in 100 years, surely Duke Wayne and his pictures will be among that number. Don't miss the cute surprise twist at the end and a great near-cameo appearance by Ricardo Montalban.

Film students won't study this one, but, at the end of a crazy work week, who the hell cares? It's Duke Wayne, Ann-Margret, Ben Johnson, Rod Taylor, shootouts and huntin' gold in Texas.

Nuff said.

FDR, Jimmy Stewart and other things I shouldn't know about...

Americans will go to the polls this November to select a new president, provided the Democratic primaries have ended by then. It feels like an important election, full of real problems and tough challenges.

Which is why "FDR," PBS's 4-part documentary from '94 on Franklin Roosevelt, which concluded last night, seems so timely. We're nowhere near a depression, but this year's electoral burden seems heavy. Thus it was in 1932, when voters took a chance and elected a popular governor from New York to fight its economic woes.

Roosevelt's story is nothing short of inspiring, regardless of one's political affiliation, especially his courageous struggle with polio. The New Deal gave the nation a much needed jolt of confidence, even if it did take the Second World War to pull us out of the Depression.

FDR wasn't without fault. He tried to pack the Supreme Court. He was estranged from his wife. He ran for an unprecedented fourth term in 1944, knowing deep inside that he was a dying man; he didn't even tell Truman about the atomic bomb.

But he didn't shirk, to borrow his favorite phrase, his rendezvous with destiny. If ever America elected the right leader in the right place at the right time, it was the patrician from Hyde Park.

Will such a president be elected this fall? Stay tuned...

Today would have been Jimmy Stewart's 100th birthday. That stuttering, "aw shucks" actor was a true American hero, World War II pilot, the kind of guy any self-respecting man would do well to emulate.


The funniest thing I ever heard about him came from, of all people, my mom, who once remarked, "That guy always played weirdos."

Well, I thought about it, and she's partially right. It was an unfair comment, though, because I'm almost certain I was watching "Harvey" at the time she said it...

If I make it home tonight at a decent hour, I think I'll flip on the DVD player and watch Stewart and Duke Wayne tame the town of Shinbone in John Ford's "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." That movie is great on so many levels, but most especially for this immortal line:

This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.

Happy birthday, James Stewart, wherever you are.

One crazy ride

Hi gang.

Sorry it's been awhile. Felt bad. Nasty cold. Glad it's over. Good to see you in here this morning. Pull up a seat. We gotta get caught up.

I tell ya, life is one crazy ride. People talk about life being nuts to the point of cliche. But it's true.

I've had a lot of ups and downs this week, but in the end, things just always seem to work out for the best. If I've learned anything these last (nearly) 30 years, it's that the worst isn't nearly as bad as it seems and the best -- those amazing, wonderful highs -- make the ride worthwhile.

Got off late from work last night. After blabbing on the phone for a couple of hours, I flipped on the TV. Lo, and behold, two of my favorite movies were playing back to back. Perfect way to end a wild week.

First up, there was John Wayne, riding tall in the saddle one last time in his final picture, "The Shootist."

Poignant as it is, I've always loved that film. Big Duke faces the Big C (ironically the disease that would kill the actor in real life three years later) with dignity and class. And, fitting the life of a famous gunslinger, Wayne's character, John Bernard Books, goes out with a bang.

I enjoy "The Shootist" because it quietly allows for character development -- and for an engaging story to unfold. There isn't much action until the end, no explosions, no mind-numbing CGI special effects. No, this is an old-fashioned story told with sophistication and plain ol' talent.

After the final curtain fell on the Duke, Turner Classic Movies began showing another favorite, Robert Altman's "Nashville." It's difficult to watch in some ways, but talk about character development.

Altman worked a mosaic like no other director before or since. These characters bump into each other, they live their lives, and we learn a lot about them, and ourselves and our culture during the nearly 3 hour running time.

And, as Roger Ebert has observed, they are indeed characters; they feel so darn alive, sometimes a rare sight in the Hollywood dream factory.

"Nashville" was released in 1975, but if ever a film is still relevant, it's this one. Altman was years ahead of his time in connecting politics and entertainment and making comments about what all that means. And while some of the music is absolutely dreadful, some of it is pretty darn good.

The performances are nothing short of wonderful. Henry Gibson is dead-on as a Porter Wagoner-esque aging country crooner. Lily Tomlin, Keenan Wynn and Ronee Blakley (who channels Loretta Lynn nearly as well as Sissy Spacek did a few years later -- and she was trying) top the list of this superb supporting cast.

I won't give away the ending for those who haven't seen it, but I don't think I've ever been more "shocked" by a film's conclusion than what happens at the Music City's Parthenon just before the credits roll (not counting a cheap trick ending like "Planet of the Apes"). If you love well-done cinema -- in the best sense of what that means -- put "Nashville" on your Netflix list. You have to work at it, but it's worth the effort.

I wanted to keep watching last night, but knew I couldn't possibly hang on until 5 a.m. So I clicked off the tube about 30 minutes into Altman's masterpiece, turned out the lights and marveled about this nutty journey just before slumber shut down my thoughts for the night.

You know, it's funny. Life takes its twists and turns, and I guess part of the fun of this vida loca is that we never quite know what lies around the bend.

All I know is the best thing we can do is laugh as much as possible -- through the joy and the pain -- turn the radio up when your favorite song comes on and in general have as much fun as the law allows.

Cause life is good, folks. And it's too damn short to waste.

Peace out. I'll see you soon.

One last stand

He rides into town looking for a place to die. He has a cancer. He wants to exit the world with dignity.

But when you're John Bernard Books, the most famous of the Old West gunslingers, things don't work out that way. Instead, he's the talk of the town.

The marshal wants him gone. Old friends want to make a buck off his name. He just wants to die in peace.

I watched John Wayne's last film, "The Shootist," last night. My pal Dean Harned jokes that I always screen this movie whenever I reach a "crossroads." Not so. It's a darn fine picture that improves with age.

There's something real about it, gritty, even prophetic, given that Duke died of the "Big C" three years after this film's release. It's also damn fine moviemaking, further evidence that those who say Wayne couldn't act either have an agenda to advance or just don't know of which they speak.

Don Siegel's picture is loaded with stars. Wayne, of course, and Jimmy Stewart, Ron Howard, Lauren Bacall, John Carradine, Hugh O'Brian, Richard Boone, Scatman Crothers, Harry Morgan and Sheree North.

Pay close attention to the scenes in which Books (Wayne) learns from the Doc (Stewart) that he's dying. You're watching two old pros at the twilight of their careers. They simply don't act this well anymore, y'all.

The best moments, really, are Wayne's mentoring of the young Gillom Rogers (Howard). He's clearly attracted to Books' life of violence. But the old gunfighter steers the young man in a different direction.

"The Shootist" is sad, tragic, even maddening when Wayne meets his fate just before the credits roll. But it's a fine epitaph on the finest of all American acting careers.

It feels like the end of Hollywood's golden era. Not long after this film was released, big-budget, CGI-dominated mindless epics replaced quiet character-driven stories as the dominating movie genre. It's too bad. Those films have their place. But so does something like "The Shootist."

Somewhere amid this brooding character study about dying lies some thoughts on living, and on having true grit in the midst of one final gunfight.

"The Shootist" is John Wayne's last stand. And what a stand it is.

Big Duke's big day

"Now on the day that John Wayne died, I found myself on the Continental Divide...Think of 'Red River' and 'Liberty Valance,' can't believe the old man's gone." --- Jimmy Buffett, "Incommunicado."

In a few minutes I'll skip this afternoon's Braves/Phillies match-up on FOX.

Don't worry. I'm not sick (well, other than the kidney stones). Nope, today is a very special birthday. A big, whoppin', big as life centennial celebration for a guy who was all that and plenty more.

Hard to believe, but today would have been Marion Morrison's 100th birthday. You know him better as John Wayne.

Wayne was a lot of things to a lot of people. To some, he was a great actor. To others, a loudmouth conservative, a no-talent hack who simply played himself again and again in formula films with repetitive plots. To millions both at home and abroad, Duke Wayne was America.

I don't pretend that Wayne was a skilled actor with the range of somebody like Laurence Olivier. But he found a niche and did it well.

Those who worked with him loved him. Liberal activist/actors (Kirk Douglas, Katherine Hepburn) said Wayne was nothing but a gentleman. They found him to be well-read, tolerant and a genuine professional. Even Barbra Streisand couldn't contain her excitement when she announced Wayne's name as the Best Actor winner of 1969 for his best film, "True Grit."

The public made him America's top movie star for a quarter century. Twenty-eight years after his death, John Wayne can regularly be found at or near the top of the annual list of favorite actor polls.

I suspect that profound sociological, cultural and political reasons make this so. But we won't get into all that now. Today's a birthday party, remember?

In honor of Big Duke's big day, here is my list of 10 John Wayne films that any serious American movie buff should screen. Aside from the No. 1 film, they aren't in any particular order. I simply can't rank John Wayne's films based on personal preference. Just can't do it.

Happy birthday, Duke!

1. True Grit (1969) --- Far and away his best picture, this simple tale of seeking justice won Wayne a long overdue Best Actor Academy Award. His slightly off-center portrayal of ne'er-do-well U.S. Marshal Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn is one for the ages. Young Kim Darby is his perfect foil. Overlook Glen Campbell and this is a five-star picture.

2. The Searchers (1956) --- A favorite of domestic and international film critics, this movie is the high water mark in the John Ford/John Wayne filmography. Wayne's portrayal of the haunted Ethan Edwards is arguably his best. Director Ford was at the top of his game here. Makes a powerful case for the best American western ever put to celluloid. Monument Valley never looked so good.

3. The Shootist (1976) --- Wayne's final film is an emotional character study of an aging gunfighter who comes to Carson City, Nev., in order to die. The fact that Duke himself passed three years later of the same disease his character suffers from makes "The Shootist" painfully prophetic. The scenes between Wayne and Jimmy Stewart, playing the town doc who gives Wayne's character the bad news, should be textbook studies for anyone who aspires to act. Ron Howard, Lauren Bacall, Richard Boone, Hugh O'Brian, Harry Morgan and Scatman Crothers shine in supporting roles. A fitting epitaph to a great career.

4. McLintock! (1963) --- This comedic western remake of "Taming of the Shrew" is a two-hour delight. Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, playing his estranged wife here, were simply made for one another.

5. Red River (1948) --- John Ford reportedly said after screening this Howard Hawks masterpiece, "I didn't know the big SOB could act." Duke delivers a mature performance as the rough, tough trail boss Tom Dunson. Montgomery Clift is equally fantastic as Dunson's protege. I'd like it better if not for the lackluster ending.

6. Rio Bravo (1959) --- Howard Hawks had an obsession with this story. He later remade it twice (in "El Dorado" and "Rio Lobo"), all three times using Wayne in the starring role. The original is best. Dean Martin and Ward Bond are fantastic in supporting roles and pop singer Rick Nelson turns in a surprisingly decent performance as a young gunslinger.

7. Hondo (1953) --- I don't know why I like this movie so much, but it may be Wayne's most underrated western. A more subtle take on "Shane," Wayne plays an outlaw who falls in love with a married woman whose young son idolizes Wayne's Hondo Lane. For whatever reason, this film never has received the respect it deserves.

8. In Harm's Way (1965) --- Another underrated picture. This Otto Preminger flick is set in Hawaii before and after the December 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor and focuses on the Navy's initial fight against the Japanese. Loaded with stars (Kirk Douglas, Burgess Meredith, Knoxville's own Patricia Neal), this film puts 2001's "Pearl Harbor" to shame.

9. The Sands of Iwo Jima (1949) --- Far and away the best of Wayne's war pictures. A bit corny, but perfect for its time. Wayne's mentoring of a young John Agar is another classic bit of cinema. I admit it -- when Wayne's character meets his fate, I shed a tear. Duke's losing to Broderick Crawford for Best Actor that year is a bigger farce than Peyton Manning losing the Heisman Trophy to ol' what's-his-name.

10. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) --- John Ford's claustrophobic western is an unsentimental examination of myth and reality during the taming of the West. Wayne plays the outlaw hero. Jimmy Stewart is the wimpy lawyer with a lot of guts. Vera Miles loves them both. One of them shoots Lee Marvin at the end. This is such a fine film. It's the most unique entry in the long Wayne-Ford collaboration.