The Crack of Dawn

Volume #116

10/3/22

Newsletter116

The Crack of Dawn

At the Oscar ceremony in 1999, director Elia Kazan won an honorary lifetime achievement award.  There was a large protest going on outside the theater against Kazan, and when his name was announced many folks in the audience wouldn’t stand, like: Nick Nolte, Steven Spielberg, Amy Madigan and Ed Harris.  This was all because Elia Kazan, under subpoena from the HUAC congressional committee, after weighing all of his options – like prison, the blacklist, never working again – named the names of people he knew were already named.  This got him off the hook with HUAC, but not his self-righteous “friends” and co-workers.  As I mentioned yesterday, director Edward Dmytryk, one of the Hollywood Ten, after serving a year in prison in Arizona “recanted,” named names, got his career back, but was reviled by his Hollywood co-workers.

One of the main instigators of HUAC was Richard Nixon.  Ed Dmytryk spent a year in prison, as did most of the other members of the Hollywood Ten, and Nixon subsequently became Vice-President, then President.  Some of the “friendly witnesses” who ratted on everybody were John Wayne and Gary Cooper, who just kept right on working.

Anyone who picked on or badmouthed Elia Kazan or Edward Dmytryk, or any of the other victims of HUAC, are spineless, gutless, conscienceless pieces of shit.  Anyone who didn’t stand for Kazan’s award is a piece of shit.  The bad guys were HUAC and the friendly witnesses; not the victims, no matter how they finally reacted.

Let me reframe this discussion.  I saw The Piano (2002) with a former, gentile friend.  After the film he said, “I can’t believe the Jews just stood there and let the Nazis shoot them in the head.  I’d have fought back.  I’d have grabbed a Nazi’s machinegun and shot all the other Nazis.  I can’t believe the Jews just let themselves be shot.”  I’d known and liked this fellow for 20 years at that point, but a part of our friendship died right there.  I said, “You would have shit in your pants and taken a bullet in the head just like everybody else.  If you’re surrounded by German soldiers with machineguns, you do as you’re told.”  He shook his head, “Not me, man.”  I said, “OK, you’re Superman . . . in your own mind.”

Nick Nolte, Steven Spielberg, Ed Harris, Amy Madigan, my former friend, and anyone else who believes that they wouldn’t let the Nazis shoot them, or they wouldn’t have named names in front of a congressional committee, or recanted after a year in prison, are the worst kinds of shit in the world.  They are such gutless cowards, such frightened little sissies, that they can’t even acknowledge who the bad guy really is, because then they might get into trouble themselves.  Instead, they pick on their friends and co-workers, all the while pretending that they are holier-than-thou and would have acted more courageously under the circumstances, but luckily didn’t have to.

If I put a loaded Lugar to the head of my former friend, Nick Nolte, Steven Spielberg, or any of the people who turned on Kazan and Dmytryk, I could get any of them to suck my dick, eat dogshit off the street, or stab their own mothers.  Those folks are only heroes in their own heads.

Which reminds me of a wonderful William Wyler story.  William Wyler and Gregory Peck co-produced the classic, brilliant film, The Big Country (1958).  By co-produced, what that meant was that the film was a William Wyler production that Gregory Peck stepped into bringing along the big studio deal and financing he already had.  Gregory Peck was not a producer, but he was top-billed in this case over Wyler.  Mr. Peck did not abuse this privilege.  However, one time during the production – and I heard Peck tell this story – they completed a scene and Wyler said, “Moving on.”  Peck was horrified, and asked, “Aren’t you going to get a close-up of me?”  Wyler said no, he didn’t need one, the scene played great in the wide shot.  Gregory Peck said, “The scene needs a close-up.”  Wyler said, “No, it doesn’t.  And since I’m the director, I choose.”  Peck said, “Oh, yeah?  Well, I’m the top-billed producer on this film and I’m ordering you to get that close-up.”  And Wyler said, “Or what?”  And Peck said, “Or I’ll fire you.”  Wyler immediately acquiesced, saying, “I don’t have time now, Greg, but I promise I’ll get it before we wrap.”  A month later they shot the final shot of the whole movie.  Wyler said, “Print it.”  The assistant director said, “That’s a wrap on the production of The Big Country.”  Gregory Peck was aghast.  He stomped up to Wyler and said, “You promised you’d get that close-up and you didn’t.”  William Wyler grinned and said, “Put a gun against my head and I’ll promise you anything.”

And I promise to drop the subject of HUAC.  I wasn’t alive when it happened, but I’m still mad.  Then again, I’m still mad that Judy Holliday beat out Gloria Swanson and Bette Davis for Best Actress in 1950.  What a rip-off.

Have a nice day.