If you'll forgive the long prelude, I have a question and a statement . . . in fifteen parts, beginning with a series of enclosed mathematical charts and a sidebar about string theory. (Obligatory throat clearing and drink of POM Wonderful pomegranate juice, followed by tapping of microphone: "Testing. One, two, three. Testing. . . . An alligator walks into a bar . . .") Orson Welles is a genius. What?! No, not the genius part. Did Christopher Walken just "quantum leap" into this post, making everything a non sequitur? Read on, and I'll explain.
I am a creature of rituals: I avoid sidewalk cracks, turn the knob on my bathroom faucet exactly sixty-degrees clockwise, cut my food in neat squares and, should the need arise, scream the word "Beetlejuice" three times - Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice - to banish the obnoxious bio-exorcist. (Actually, it's "Betelgeuse.") Which is to say, I must have some pistachios and a delicious beverage while watching a movie; it's a ritual.
With the rise of Netflix, my new obsession - "If living with obsession is a sin, then let me be guilty" - is powerful, indeed. Recently, I watched "Touch of Evil," starring Orson Welles, Charlton Heston and Janet Leigh. Tremendous. Amazing. Welles is incredible, and incredibly evil, in this film. He was a real bon vivant: directed and co-wrote "Citizen Kane" when he was 26, dated nearly every beautiful actress in Hollywood, had a cameo in "The Muppet Movie" and partied with Johnny Carson before a live studio audience. If you name his final film role - hint: it's an animated feature - I'll get you goodies from POM. Cheers
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