"I COULDA BEEN A CONTENDER..."

Two brothers, dockworker Charlie Malloy (Rod Steiger) and ex-boxer and soon to be heroic mob informer Terry Malloy (Brando), on the back sit of a cab talk about the fraternal support the younger never got. This inmortal scene full of gravitas, shame and disillusion belongs to On the Waterfront from 1954. Directed by Elia Kazan and written by Budd Schulberg. How great words delivered with royal acting can pass on fancy stuff (look at the poor background of the taxi) How art don't need to be necessarily expensive. Brando can break your tears in a matter of seconds...

So i guess you gotta do all what you can for your dear ones or someday they can face you with the sad truth even in the back of a cheap cab.

Charlie:

(Gently)
Look, kid, I - how much you weigh, son?
(Nostalgically)
 When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, and that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast.

Terry:

It wasn't him, Charley, it was you.
(Years of abuse crying out in him)
 Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson." You remember that? "This ain't your night"! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! 
(More and more aroused as he relives it)
You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money. 

Charlie:

(Defensively)
Oh I had some bets down for you. You saw some money. 

Terry:

(agonized)
You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley. 

(Charlie takes a  long, fond look at Terry. then he glances quickly out the window)

BOLLYWOOD GOLD

From the dramatic film Devdas (Sanjai Leela Bhansali, 2002) one of the most luxurious numbers i can recall (and I've seen some). The sublime beauty of Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dixit in the Dola Re Dola number. It doesn't get better then this but if you find some, let me know it. Namaste!

THE OWNERS OF THE BALL (THE MANY BALLS)

Dear Guelylander, take your sit and grab the POP!corn because in the next few minutes you gonna witness a match between the "kids" that own "the toys". Nuclear capability, is the name of the game and the match started in 1945 goes until 1998. The only inconvenient with this"game" is that smells horrible and is real. Click the arrow in the middle of the map and let the game begins! But Hey! Hey! As the fair players advice us everyday "Keep recycling cos is good for the enviroment!"

I wish the counter of visits on this blog could blink like this!

THE BEGUILED

Tagline: One man... seven women... in a strange house!

Yes. A strange and a bit unknown kind of cult beast as well. The Beguiled (Don Siegel, 1971) is a sometimes disturbing, complex, psycological american gothic thriller (can't spare adjectives here) but above all a fascinating movie. We have incest, sexual frustration and anxiety, naked girls, coming of age, bisexuality but is not a "french" , "swedish" or "european" kind of flick.

Our man Clint took a risky step as a movie star on this film, in a year that was great for him (Play misty for me and Dirty Harry are from 1971 as well) and plays a bastard (the kind that considers a twelve year old girl, "thirteen in September", "Old enough for kisses" as long as she is distracted and doesn't give him away to the soldiers he is hidding from. That kind of bastard).

The story is set in the last period of the Civil War and he is yankee soldier that takes refuge in a school for girls from the South. He is wounded, they take pitty, nurse him and hide him. Almost all the women from the headmistress and the slave to the youngest girl fall for him and fight for his attentions. After all, he looks just like Clint Eastwood at 41 .

I won't spoil so much of the narrative but let's just say that he find his paradise and hell in the same place. But, as usual, hell seems to be longer. This story has the mixtured smell of such a scents like the works of Poe, Ambrose Bierce and Tennessee Williams bottled in a one intoxicating result. Somehow our character is trying to save his skin and even if we don't aprove him we don't know what would we do in his situation. Or maybe was the booze, judge by yourself. But he is a manipulative lecherous blue beard nevertheless and you cannot play with so many hearts at the same time under the same roof. Or can you? I mean, this is no facebook this is The South you blue belly yank bastard!

JOSE ALBERTO GUTIERREZ Y LA FUERZA DE LAS PALABRAS

Qué buena idéa y qué gran proyecto. Los amantes de los libros y la lectura no necesitariamos grandes inversiones para desarrollar una gran labor... si fueramos como él. Los recoge en su camión de basura mientras trabaja y su esposa los limpia, pega o repara. Una biblioteca para niños pobres creada con miles de libros encontrados en la basura. La biblioteca apropiadamente bautizada La Fuerza de las Palabras" está ubicada en la sala de su casa en el barrio de La Nueva Gloria en la localidad de San Cristobal Sur en Bogotá y José Alberto Gutierrez es el nombre de este inteligente patrono de la cultura colombiana. Un abrazo desde el corazón de Guelyland a Gutierrez, héroe de la divulgación cultural.

MAGALY SOLIER, SOBRE AMADOR

Magaly Solier (Ayacucho, 1986) es una actriz peruana poseedora de un encanto y frescura que no he visto jamás. Y al yo haber nacido también en el Perú, verla y escucharla me hace sentir que parte de su modo de ser es también muy mío. Se experimenta una agradable sensación al sentirse identificado con élla.

Aquí en el programa de Buenafuente con el realizador de "Amador", Fernando León de Araona que élla protagoniza..

VARGAS LLOSA

Era sólo cuestión de tiempo...desde hace veinte años. Cada que pasaba, por estas días uno chequeaba el nuevo Nobel de Literatura y salía otro escritor. Bueno, el próximo tal vez. Yo confiaba en que la gris Academia Sueca a su ves confiaba en la salud y la edad de Varguitas. La única preocupación era que se nos fuera antes de tiempo y ahi si que me molestaba con los cuatrojos suecos.

Poniéndome a pensar no deja de parecerme un poco raro que a tres grandes de la literatura que me gusta (los otros dos serían Borges y García Marquez) los haya visto por primera vez en las páginas de revistas "femeninas" como Vanidades , de esas que las mamás latinoamericanas de los setentas solían leer en casa o en la peluquería. Mi vieja lo describía como un "escritor buenmozo". Mi viejo, en cambio y por esos años, aun no le perdonaba su rechazo a la Revolución Cubana o que fuera "sionista" pero luego se "amistaría" con él desde que Varguitas pusiera de moda el jogging en el Perú via un artículo de Caretas en 1981 y mi papá se echara a correr por el Campo de Marte y El Golf por el resto de sus dias. Secretamente siempre lo admiro, es mi teoría. Bueno, "Ahí fue"!.

Luego, en las clases de lenguaje del colegio uno lo leería (generalmente el cuento Dia domingo o algún fragmento de La Ciudad y los perros) porque uno no debía leerlo sinó hasta cierta edad que cuando uno pescaba un libro suyo y lo hojeaba se daba cuenta que no era "para niños"especialmente.

He de confesar mi sorpresa cuando abrí la primera página de La ciudad y los perros y vi mención de "el Jaguar"? Cuando seguí leyendo y me di cuenta que no se trataba del felino querido lo dejé y seguí de largo sin volver a el sinó hasta ya bien entrada la adolescencia.

Fué la película de F. Lombardi basada en la novela La ciudad y los perros del mismo título la que me tuvo que sacar de mi letargo en vargasllosiología. De relleno aquí pongo los DVD's que tengo de parte de su obra llevada al cine:

Luego vendrían las lecturas de Los cachorros y Los jefes, La tía Julia y el escribidor, Conversación en La Catedral, Historia de Mayta, El pez en el agua, La fiesta del Chivo, Cartas a un joven novelista y ese variadísimo etcetera que forma la variada, infatigable e incompleta obra de nuestro autor.

Lo positivo del Nobel es que muchos (que no lo leen desde el colegio o "la academia") ahora si sentirán la irreprimible curiosidad y empezarán a hacerlo para saber de que escribe el "compatriota". Y seguro, los más, que ya lo habíamos disfrutado haremos lo posible por no perdernos de lo poco o mucho que nos falte por conocer de su técnico e inteligente universo literario.

Justamente, y no hace más de unas semanas, adquirí un lindo ejemplar de el que debe ser su libro más raro o difícil de conseguir (para mi suerte y no la del despistado vendedor). Acaso el santo grial de la bibliofilia vargasllosiana, "García Márquez historia de un deicidio", jamás vuelto a reeditar en volumen individual. A que no lo tienen. No es verdad?

Si hay algo mas que admiro en Vargas Llosa fuera de su, hoy más que nunca, reconocido talento literario es su consecuencia. Su creer en lo que crée y su despliegue de libertad en cambiar sus ideas cuando estas evolucionan. El no aferrarse dogmáticamente a cosas en las que ya no confía. Su franqueza y transparencia que tantos amigos y enemigos le han ganado y perdido alrededor del mundo. Un Individuo en el mejor sentido de la palabra.

Asi funciona el Nobel de Literatura:

Electores: Miembros de la Academia sueca (18 integrantes) y de las correspondientes organismos literarios, ganadores anteriores y profesores de literatura pueden nominar candidatos hasta el 31 de enero.

Los candidatos: son elegidos en primavera en una lista de unos 15-20 nombres, que luego reducen a cinco nombres durante el verano. Se trata de un proceso de selección que se mantiene en secreto desde hace 50 años.

Votación: El comité del Nobel lee las obras de los candidatos durante el verano. El 6 de octubre elige al ganador del premio de la Academia. Más de la mitad debe votar al ganador.

Fallo: El ganador se da a conocer el 7 de octubre a las 13.00 (hora local), por el secretario de la entidad, Peter Englund, que asumió el cargo el año pasado, tras la salida de Horace Engdahl.

El ganador: recibe 10 millones de coronas suecas (un millón de euros). El galardón se entrega durante una ceremonia en la Sala de Conciertos de Estocolmo el 10 de diciembre.

RIP KEVIN McCARTHY (1914-2010)

I know you know the chiseled jaw face but most probably you can't get the name. One of the most versatile and popular character actors in Hollywood. Even my mother use to point me "there he is!" everytime he showed up in a movie (Death of a Salesman, The Misfits, The Prize, Piranha, The Howling, Twilight Zone: The Movie) or any teve series (virtually any of them) but of course his masterpiece was and it always will be the popular and original science fiction The Invation of the Body Snatchers (Don Siegel, 1956).

Other and generally, as Danny Peary says in his book Cult Movie Stars: "his characters look good in suits, drink martinis, seem Ivy League-educated".

I only found out today that he passed away last September ,11. So here this little tribute from the heart of Guelyland, because "They are here!"

FAY WRAY

The delicate and sexy beauty of Vina Fay Wray, born in Alberta (Canada) on September, 15 1907 was appreciated as the heroine of such films like The Most Dangerous Game (1932) and Doctor X (1932) but specially forever remembered as Ann Darrow the "Beauty that killed the Beast" that expended a good time in our favorite big hairy paw in the original wonder King Kong (1933). She died peacefully in August, 8 2004 in her Manhattan apartment and was this close of making a cameo appearence in Peter Jackson's remake at the age of 96. I find her extremely beautiful, almost no less then the quality of these old hollywood portraits. I think she deserves a little dossier, here in Guelyland.

R.I.P. TONY CURTIS

T.C. (1925-2010)

Well, he died yesterday, at 85, had a long good life and a lot of great films that will last as long as people likes movies. I feel like somebody i knew personally has passed away because i "knew him" since i was a very little kid. His life and movie carrier had ups and downs but the balance was positive. Enjoyed more then the company of the most beautiful women, a good painter, he was an insightful fellow and was famous all over the world for more then sixty years. That is more then the mayority of human beings will ever achieve.

In 1994 I bought his first auto biography and browsing it tonight I see these parts underlined. They move me now as they did then.

His latest "American Prince, a memoir" (Harmony Books, 2008) was on it's way when he is dead. I bet it will be a heck of a reading as well!

Hope some time soon we will be able to see some of his movies never properly released on DVD especially The Great Impostor (Robert Mulligan,1961).

BRUBAKER

Prison movies can be a good chance to show us a methaphor of society,to show us how effective or futil is to try to change it and make something better of it. Of corruption and compassion or of how bad things are too often linked to similar and that that chain can go all the way up.

Brubaker (Stuart Rosemberg, 1980) is a hell of a good example of this. And just have a look to the ensemble cast of character actors we got here, leaded by Robert "Not just a pretty face" Redford. Lets see, Yaphet "Mr. Big" Kotto, we have Murray "Plastics" Hamilton, and Joe "Maniac" Spinnel, Matt Clarke and J. Emmet "Everywhere" Walsh. Heck we even get to see a young Morgan Freeman in it (and now don't tell me you have seen that one before).

This movie builds up with a nice false premise that brings us to an early great twist at the first half an hour and then just keeps up.

Redford plays a "One weird fucking individual" almost too good to be true but still possible mostly because we trust in Redford's integrity as a player , more then in any good looking blond WASP from Tinseltown.

As the sleazy southern character played by M. Emmet Walsh:"I am talking about tradition: don't fuck with tradition". I think this is a very important line since I personally consider Tradition (the grand mother of nationalism and religion) one of the most sugarcoated harmfull concepts in human history. If you have to sit two hours to just hear it on the context of the whole film you just made a good investment of your time.

"I am talking about tradition: don't fuck with tradition"

BARFLY

I guess there are differents approaches to the work or the "church" of Charles Bukowski (1920-1994). Some people love him sincerely, some people hate him cos is rough and some people just don't like he has become popular making their cult too mainstream. Me? I have yet to met the gentleman in the paper. Haven't read him but I just might do it.

Anyway, this is about the movie, "Barfly" (Barbet Schroeder, 1987) with Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway. My brother has been sending me Bukowski poems for years now but i guess i didn't read them without something else in mind or i just left them for later and later is still to come.

Nerdie as this may sound I know more about literature then about drinking, so right now when it comes to poets that write about booze I can recall the chinese poet Li Po (701-762) about who, as legend has it, drowned drunk trying to embrace the reflection of the moon. And my dear Omar Khayyam (1048-1131) the persian sufi writer, but it could be that he was talking about some mystic wine instead of the real thing.

I'm mentioning this because the script of this movie is quite poetic. Now, if you gonna judge a book by it's cover or, as in this case, a movie by it's plot and you happen to be on the wrong side of the political correctness as well, you are gonna miss a wonderful film, since this one is just so sharpy and sometimes vulgarly quotable that either will make you think or laugh (with an open mind,both). Because this film is basically some semi autobiographic important short period during the younger years of our wino american poet. And if you get close this one smells like those last night unfinished cans of beer with dead fags floating inside. But heck this movie is good!

Dunaway, Buk and alter ego Rourke

A movie about alcoholics that is not a drama. A movie that starts and ends with a bum being bloddy beaten and he is our poetic heroe as well. And what about a heroine that says "Listen, I drink. And when I drink, i move in the wrong direction..." after going to be with the "bad" guy for some bourbon.

Both hate people and he make it clear mumbling "I don't , but i seem to feel better when they are not around".

The dirty Mickey Rourke and a washed up but still beautiful Faye Dunaway play the couple in question . For the trivia crowd, the forementioned "bad guy" is none other then the most famous human Sylvester little bro: Frank Stallone. A big deal of the rest of the cast is filled by real alcoholics from the neighbourhood in l.A. And all was filmed totally in stinking locations. The result is simply one of a kind.

Bukowski wanted Sean Pean for the part to star the picture but Pean wanted Dennis Hopper for director. But Bukowski didn't like Hopper considering him a Hollywood phony (or so goes the story) and wanted Schroeder.

Watch out for a brief Bukowski cameo (in a bar, drinking)

Oh, yeah! Sean Pean could have been a contender here. Sure. I could even imagine Brando or DeNiro (better not think about how the newyorker would prepare for the roll) but the indisputable truth is that Mickey Rourke doesn't show less talent at all and here simply is the living definition of underrated actor. Salud! To all my frieeends!

LIBROS DE BORGES (MY BORGES BOOKS)

Aquí mi colección de libros de Borges desde 1,983 hasta hoy, septiembre del 2,010. Veintiocho años "in the making" y todavía creciendo. Imposible calcular la felicidad prodigada por sus lecturas. Desde la primera página cuando no tenía más de diecisiete años hasta el día de hoy y siempre. Lean Borges.

Behold! Guelylanders here's my collection of Borges books since 1,983 until september 2,010. Twenty eight years in the making and still going strong. Impossible to measure the happiness prodigated by their readings. From the first page when i wasn't more then an seventeen years old lad until the present day and forever. Read Borges!

NICK'S FILM - LIGHTNING OVER WATER

I was looking after this sensation for a while. Let's say, less then a couple of weeks? The sensation of being moved by a masterpiece of cinema. And, as not so rarely happen, it came by the form of a german movie (or a german director: Win Wenders. Hence, no surprise.

"Nick's Film -Lightining over water" is a rare avis, a movie about the making of a movie. Two different beasts, one animal. It's about Nicholas Ray and Win Wenders, two directors that act and direct themselves at the same time (Nicholas Ray, the director of such films as Rebel Without a Cause, Johnny Guitar and In a Lonely Place. Win Wenders has under his credits Wings of Desire and Paris Texas) .

Nicholas, Nick, is dying and his friend, his asociated in this enterprise, Win, is taking us to witness it. Sounds morbid but is not. It's real but is not. For me is about the essence of existence, about what we are and how we wanna be remember inside the boundaries of our human condition.

In the beginning, in real life, they wanted to work together again (they did it before in "The American Friend"(Win Wenders, 1977). Win was in New York making a movie (Hammett, 1982 ) and Nick, who lived in New York was dying from cancer. So, there was no time to lose. He had only a few weeks to live. The only possible thing to do was to make a film about what was happening: an old director that was dying of cancer and a a friend filmmaker that is with him during these last weeks sharing the remains of life with him. It's seems to be like a documentary. But in a very intelligent and subtle way they show us that is not. It's just a movie with a very, VERY, big resemblance to reality. So much that you can think is real without been too wrong.

Today, 2010, It could be seen as some sort of philosophical reality show. Long before reality shows were invented and obviously without the coat of vulgarity and stupidity so intrinsic to this kind of act.

"I knew that he wanted to work, to die working"

Lightning Over Water is about dealing with the Death not without fear but with dignity. And Death has such an invisible but patent presence in this movie that you can feel "her" out of camera waiting for her cue just to jump in. But so has dignity. At the end you don't feel sad because you see that both end up in good terms as in "the begining of a beautiful friendship". But you will be moved in a mystical materialistic way. And you don't see this too often in movies. If you don't experience this film the chances are that you won't see it. Ever.

GUELYLAND SONG #9: FIESTA, DE SERRAT

Nadie me ha hecho pensar, al escuchar canciones en español, como Joan Manuel Serrat i Teresa (Barcelona, 1943). Y, para ser sincero, no puedo recordar muchos cantantes que me gusten tanto desde que tenía seis o siete años. Para mi, que nunca supe conocer o apreciar a otros artistas como Silvio Rodriguez, Milanes, Jara, Mercedes Sosa o Sabina, el Nano se saltó de ida y vuelta con frecuencia la vaya entre cantante y poeta para darme lecciones en las que impartía bajo inolvidables acordes musicales con humor, tristeza o ironía en diferentes géneros, su libre y comprometida filosofía.

A pesar de ser un admirador crónico de su obra, he tenido cada cierto tiempo, intensivos periódicos periodos serratianos (el '81, el '84, el '87. el 91, el '95, el 2001, el '7, el '9) durante los que he redescubierto, en diferentes etapas de mi vida, la verdad y vigencia de sus canciones. Hay siempre por lo menos una que se aplicará a determinado instante de nuestra existencia y en la que nos veremos reflejados y con ella identificados. Son, claro, cuatro decadas y media y este obrero de la vida a pasado por todo.

Podría enumerar una larguísima lista con las canciones que casi desde siempre o recientemente descubiertas me gustaron y gustarán. Escoger una, y sólo una, para colgar aquí, me ha tomado un buen rato. Una que le cante al amor y su persistencia? A los hijos o la infancia? A los amigos? Al mar o la Tierra? A un viejo cinematografo? A la muerte? Al misterio de la mujer? A los vicios? A las chicas que fueron? A las mezquindades de la gente? A los olvidados?

Okay, escojo una por ser quizá la primera o segunda que escuché. La que hizo volar mi imaginación por una tierra y situación a la que sólo podía ver con la fantasía de mis ideas de niño curioso. Que luego, ya creciendo, pude imaginar de manera distinta para, finalmente, ver a toda luz su sentido. La canción es "Fiesta" y les pongo dos versiones. Una temprana, con un Serrat muchachón e improvisado frente a un público sencillo y juvenil de quizá principio de los setentas. Sin elegancias y en blanco y negro como era el mundo de la tele para la mayoría en aquel entonces. La segunda, en color, elegante y burguesa, con arreglos más sofisticados y un Serrat ya señorón y recorrido que domina la escena con la experiencia que dan las canas y la calvicie. Casi unos "Cuarenta años despues..." como en las historias. Un Serrat diferente pero igual.

Fiesta

JOAN MANUEL SERRAT

Gloria a Dios en las alturas,
recogieron las basuras de mi calle,
ayer a oscuras y hoy sembrada de bombillas.

Y colgaron de un cordel
de esquina a esquina un cartel
y banderas de papel
verdes rojas y amarillas.

Y al darles el sol la espalda
revolotean las faldas
bajo un manto de guirnaldas
para que el cielo no vea.

En la noche de San Juan,
cómo comparten su pan,
su mujer y su gaván
gentes de cien mil raleas.

Apurad, que allí os espero
si queréis venir,
pues cae la noche y ya se van
nuestras miserias a dormir.

Vamos subiendo la cuesta
que arriba mi calle se vistió de fiesta.

Hoy el noble y el villano
el prohombre y el gusano
bailan y se dan la mano
sin importarles la facha.

Juntos los encuentra el sol
a la sombra de un farol,
empapados en alcohol,
madreando una muchacha.

Y con la resaca a cuestas
vuelve el pobre a su pobreza
vuelve el rico a su riqueza
y el señor cura a sus misas.

Se despertó el bien y el mal
la zorra pobre vuelve al portal
la zorra rica vuelve al rosal
y el avaro a las divisas.

Se acabó, el sol nos dice
que llegó el final,
por una noche se olvidó
que cada uno es cada cual.

Vamos bajando la cuesta
que arriba, en mi calle,
se acabó la fiesta.

BARBARELLA

Jane Fonda is Barbarella. And Barbarella is a guilty pleasure.

A camp, euro chic, swinger sixties one. The proof that a movie doesn't need to be too good to be liked.

A movie with characters named Duran Duran or Dildano, Professor Ping or Stomoxis.

It's a crazy psicodelic trip directed in 1968 by Roger Vadim (born Roger Vladimir Igorevich Plemyannikov) the über lucky man that married Brigitte Bardot, Jane Fonda and made a kid to Catherine Deneuve.

The three times lucky Roger Vadim

Our heroine keeps falling to the floor and getting her beautiful clothes destroyed by lovely flesh eater parakeets ("This is a much too poetic way to die", she says on the matter) or iron tothed little dolls (Clack! Clack!). Making love to angels, silly literally underground rebels, bitchy queens wearing plastic horns, one "excess machine" that will kill you of pleasure, hairy child slave hunters (actually the children, are all cruel twins that torture Barbarella for fun so i guess they have it coming). Actually she makes love to everyone that saves her life.

Is not a serious movie unless you can take seriously a password like : "Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobbwllllantysiliogogogoch".

Barbarella is not just a pretty face, even if the Great Tyrant (that's the queen with the plastic horn) keeps calling her "Pretty-Pretty", because she could the password after hearing it only once!. She is very realistic, like when the queen says to her:

-"Vade retro, Earth girl! I know you don't really exist"

She answers, "That maybe true, Your Majesty, but let's just stick to what we see".

In this french-italian Dino De Laurentis production we get a great international cast. Americans John Philip Law (the tanned blond blind angel Pygar) and Fonda, italians Ugo Tognazzi (the hairy hunter Mark Hand) and Anita Pallenberg ( famous, amoung other things for her romances with Brian Jones, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger), french mime master Marcel Marceau (as professor Ping), british David Hemmings (as the clumpsy rebel Dildano) and Milo O'Shea (Durand-Durand) among others.

A guilty pleasure because it can gets you disturbed while making you smile, Barbarella is a cult movie that displays the beauty of Jane Fonda spiced with a series of fantastic outfits made by a costume design team headed by no less then Paco Rabanne. Through the years and long before I saw the movie for the first time, in the mid nineties, I was fascinated for the pics of Fonda from this film. And today I gonna share with you, Guelylanders, the whole dossier!

Let's add that Fonda made this movie instead of making Rosemary's Baby and Bonnie & Clyde. She regrets it. But I think that is lucky for us, Mia Farrow and Faye Dunaway.

I happen to dig the catchy swinging songs performed by The Glitterhouse as well (at the end of this entry)