In an article in today's
NY Post, Johnny Oleksinski relates the odd history of a film just about to be released in the USA. Here are excerpts, edited by yours truly: 33 years after his death, Orson Welles' last film has been completed.
The Other Side of the Wind has been in post-production for nearly 50 years, thwarted by a lack of funding, bitter legal disputes and technological constraints. The film was finished thanks to decades of persistence by celebrated director Peter Bogdanovich, now 79, who acted in the movie, and producer Frank Marshall, 75, who was the production manager on the set. What begins as a satire of Hollywood shot documentary-style about the birthday party of a legendary director, played by John Huston, takes a turn toward tragedy. It took six years to shoot, wrapping in 1976. Welles was notorious for constant reworking. Marshall, editor Gary Graver, a team of digital technicians, and an old-school negative cutter were able to finish the movie using their on-set experience and Welles’ extensive notes as a guide. Graver said: “In a way, I think technology has caught up to the movie. Because some of these problems were insurmountable even 10 or 15 years ago.” Michel Legrand was hired to provide a score. It runs a shade over two hours. 272 users at IMDb have rated it, forging to a consensus of 7.4 on a scale of ten. Although I'm not a big fan of Welles, I look forward to watching it on DVD. Will he win an Oscar posthumously? Here's a still from the flick:
Solid October jobs report, biggest jump in wages in ten years, gasoline prices falling - will they affect the election? Will Robert Mueller issue a surprise on Monday? Only four days to go.
The floating book shop had good luck today. The rain held off, and last minute sales came to papa. My thanks to the gentleman who donated a bag of pristine hardcovers in Russian, and to the two women who bought one each, and to the gentleman who purchased the beautifully illustrated
The Family Medici by Mary Hollingsworth; and to the old timer who pulled Frederick Forsyth's
The Negotiator from a box in my trunk as I was packing up. That wasn't the end of it. As I was returning from Delmar with a couple of slices, a woman emerged from the train station and said hello. Since she was on her way home, I asked if she wanted to look at some books. I pulled the entire cache of Russian wares from the back seat, and she picked out 14. She doesn't buy when she's headed the other way. Just dumb luck.
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