Sunset Gun

The Musically Departed

"Millions will watch you...as you sink right down to the ground."

--Jackie Wilson, "No Pity (In The Naked City)"

What better way to deal with depression than by...embracing depression? So the post I chose to re-visit today was dead musicians who make me sad. It's as simple as that. And no Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin or Jimi Hendrix here (though Jimi and Janis sadden me). Instead, I’ve focused on those talents (my favorites) who are really, really, really tragic. Obviously no list is complete (like, Elvis and Hank Williams are not included; neither is Patsy Cline, Nick Drake, Bon Scott, Ian Curtis, Sam Cooke, Serge Gainsbourg or Chet Baker) but this is as depressed as I’m going to get.

Johnny Ace (June 9, 1929-December 25, 1954)—Murder or accidental death? Russian roulette was the fatality for this young, gorgeous pianist/singer. But how weird that Ace decided to play the deadly game during a five minute break in a concert? And on Christmas day? His posthumous hit is the one most have heard if they’ve seen Mean Streets, Bad Lieutenant and yes, Christine—the plaintive, haunting ballad “Pledging My Love”—but everything on the "Johnny Ace Memorial Album" is peerless. RIP ACE.

Otis Redding (September 9, 1941-December 10, 1967)—One of the most important, influential and heart stopping soul singers ever, Otis Redding gave us about four years of gorgeously gravely voiced/smoothly sexy/heartbreaking music. Recording on Stax, Redding’s output is near perfect with songs like “These Arms of Mine,” “I’ve Been Loving You,” “Try a Little Tenderness,” “Open the Door” (one of my favorites) and of course, [Sittin’ On] The Dock on the Bay” which only proved he was at his artistic peak. But fate is one f'ed up hitch and 26-year old Redding perished in a plane accident in 1967. The idea of what he would have furthered in his career is too maddening to ponder. Life is just too unfair to make sense of sometimes.

Marvin Gaye (April 2, 1939-April 1, 1984)—If you don’t think the loss of Marvin Gaye is tragic than I don’t consider you human. His credit, influence and scope is too numerous to list but briefly—he started as a crooner at Motown, moved on with the revolutionary “What’s Going On” (a record Berry Gordy claims to have never understood), worked it with his erotic bit of velvet “Let’s Get it On” and created one of music’s most brilliantly bitter accounts of divorce, the acid entitled “Here My Dear” (the royalties of this album all went to his ex-wife). There were the tax problems, the cocaine and then, the 1980’s hit “Sexual Healing.” But Gaye’s ups and downs hit a massive sink hole while arguing with his father in 1984. What happened? Gaye’s father shot and killed his son. Not sure if there’s too many acts to top the horror of murdering your own son. The tragedy is all the more terrible when thinking how Gaye Sr. must have felt. And speaking of Marvin Gaye, there's also the tragic loss of his greatest singing partner, Tammi Terrell. This is some sweet, sexy stuff.

Jackie Wilson (June 9, 1943-January 21, 1984)—if you look at the singer’s career at his shady label, Brunswick, Jackie Wilson’s entire life was tragic. The “Lonely Teardrops,” “(No Pity) in the Naked City” singer with the range of Mario Lanza (no one could touch his upper register) was one of music’s most brilliant talents, but his influential mixture of R&B and soul never crossed over to the extent it should have. Too many of his recordings were string-tied when they should have been raucous. If you’ve not been initiated into the magic and moves of Jackie Wilson, just rent his appearances on Shinding! and you’ll become a believer. Shot in 1961 by a female fan (he was seriously wounded but recovered), a career slump, a hit in 1967 (“Higher and Higher”) and yet another downturn, in 1975 while singing “My heart is crying, crying…” he collapsed on stage from a heart attack. He lived for years in a vegetative state and died in 1982. It’s said that Al Green (he better not go anytime soon) was Jackie’s most generous supporter in the hospital.

Dennis Wilson (December 4, 1944-December 28, 1983)—I’m not one of those Beach Boys fanatics, though I do recognize their merit and think Brian Wilson did achieve levels of genius with "Pet Sounds" (though I don't think it the greatest musical achievement in the history of popular entertainment). Nevertheless, Dennis Wilson’s unfortunate death bums me out. Maybe it’s because he starred in one of my favorite films of all time, Two Lane Blacktop (he's high on my if-I-had- to-find-a-boyfriend-from-a-movie list). Maybe it’s because he actually knew how to work on cars. Maybe it’s for all that guilt he felt about the whole Charles Manson connection. I don’t really know for sure. I just get really sad. Worse, the ex-Beach Boy had to die in the water.

Eddie Cochran (October 3, 1938-April 17, 1960)—Eddie Cochran isn’t talked about enough outside rockabilly circles. Most casual music listeners and even, Elvis fans, don’t even know who he is which is a shame given his innovative work with both the power cord and the overdub. If you’re not aware of him, he wrote that staple cover “Summertime Blues” (big for The Who) and the sexy, rough “Somethin’ Else” (which Sid Vicious covered and you saw done by Gary Oldman in Alex Cox's Sid and Nancy).

He also gave us “Twenty Flight Rock,” “Weekend” and “Nervous Breakdown.” While touring with Gene Vincent, the boys got in a car accident leaving Cochran dead. Everyone talks about the youth of Jimi and Janis but no ones got it on Eddie Cochran—he was only 21.

Marc Bolan (September 30, 1947-September 16, 1977)—A guy who loved cars, sang about cars ("You're built like a car you’ve got a hub cap diamond star halo…”) but was terrified of actually driving a car has to DIE in a car. And with his wife, Gloria Jones, at the wheel. The Founder of the preeminent (and greatest) “glam” band T-Rex with classics like “Bang a Gong,” “Baby Strange,” “Ride a White Swan,” “Children of the Revolution” and “20th Century Boy,” the elfin creature who looked like Jimmy Page before Page did (but better) was on the verge of another breakout before his untimely death at 29. Spaceball Richochet.

Curtis Mayfield (June 3, 1942-December 26, 1999)—57 is too young if you ask me, even if you haven’t produced music that matches your output in the ‘60s and ‘70s. And if Julia Roberts can’t live in a world without Denzel Washington winning an Oscar then I can’t live in a world where Curtis Mayfield is dead. Well, Julia got her wish while I have to live the delusion of pretending Mayfield is still out there singing "They Don't Know." Responsible for a record I listen to at least once a week, The Impressions epic, genius, unmatched “This Is My Country” (it was finally just re-released on CD and vinyl—go enrich your life and musical taste and buy it) and “Superfly” as well as other standouts, the musical pioneer and one of the first outspoken black power movers had to go on and die in 1999. So, so, so wrong. I don’t even like writing about it. Especially since after a 1990 accident on stage (a lighting rig fell on him) he had been paralyzed from the neck down. The guy who famously sang the words “Every brother is a leader” and admitted to being a “Fool for You” does not deserve this. I’m a fool for him.

I'm ending this with the great Marc Bolan singing one of his most bittersweet, wistful and beautiful songs--"Life's a Gas." This song can save you from having a nervous breakdown.

Kim Morgan On DVD, Carnal Knowledge, Old Dark House and Jerry Lee

This week's DVD releases are an eclectic mix. There's American Hardcore,That Night in Rio, The Three Stooges: Hapless Half-Wits, The Well and the Criterion Edition of When a Woman Ascends the Stairs. And yes, I love The Three Stooges. What of it?

In the meantime, read my Film and DVD reviews at Strange Impersonation and anything else I’m thinking at Pretty Poison (where you can read my philosophy on Hollywood Head Shots).

As for now, Three Obsessions:

1. Carnal Knowledge (1971) It took me a while to watch this film again. Even for me, the movie is just sooo incredibly harsh. Jesus Christ. I don't want to get married enough but Carnal Knowledge makes the prospect of living with 30 cats or becoming Judi Dench in Notes on a Scandal not only acceptable but, attractive. Mike Nichols’ Carnal Knowledge, pre-Neil LaBute, pre-Closer  knew how to dig his claws into the supposedly blissful union of  man and wife. And yes, yes, it's been quoted to death but when Jack Nicholson screams at the once sexy now dumpy Ann-Margret, it never gets old, but also disturbing, funny and tragic. Damn, you feel sorry for her when he hollers: “You want a job? I got a job for you. Fix up this pigsty! You get a pretty Goddammed good salary for testing out this bed all day! You want an extra fifty dollars a week, try vacuuming! You want an extra hundred, make this Goddammed bed! Try opening some Goddammed windows! That's why you can't stand up in here, the Goddammed place smells like a coffin!" The topper? "Why don't you leave me?... For God's sake, I'd almost marry you if you'd leave me!" (Watch the magic, and Ann-Margret's spectacular breasts here) It reminds me of the other Nichols' classic, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf when Liz Taylor brays to Richard Burton: "I swear if you existed I'd divorce you." But then, that movie is a lot more romantic. I'm not kidding.

2. The Old Dark House (1932) - Director James Whale crafted many classic horror pictures -- his most famous being Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein -- but his excellent The Old Dark House is one of my favorites. Whale's penchant for the perverse, darkly humorous and finally, just flat out scary is on full display here as travelers Raymond Massey, his wife Gloria Stuart, Melvyn Douglas, Charles Laughton and his chorus girl companion Lillian Bond find themselves stranded in an isolated mansion. A scarred, crazy, mute butler (a terrific Boris Karloff) is there to greet them, but that's just the start of it. The homeowners are nuts (one's a whacked-out atheist, the other a religious freak) while the rest of the family includes a bedridden 102-year old grandfather and a pyromaniac son who's kept locked up. Stylishly photographed and containing outrageously freaky performances, this is as wonderfully bizarre as it gets.

3. Jerry Lee Lewis As much as I love Elvis, I have to say Jerry Lee Lewis is the one--the one I want. Of course we know he's a mega talented piano player, singer and sexy wailer who lived a life of hard knocks and probably a lot of good old fashioned evil. I always say I'd like to go on a nice date with Elvis, have him take me out for a sundae (I would refrain from the white panties slumber party) but Jerry Lee? Oh Jerry Lee...I could not resist that hellfire SOB. He could take me to a chicken coop and have his way with... But back to his genius. The guy is still around, still touring (sporadically--he canceled a show a few years ago that I was excited to attend) and if I don't see him before he dies, well, I don't know what I'll do. And I have to hear him sing his version of Hank Williams' "You Win Again" (one of my favorites) or "Crazy Arms" or really, just about anything. Jerry Lee, please come back to LA . Here's Jerry Lee on "Shindig" doing a nice version of "High School Confidential" with the clean cut Shindig dancers grooving along.

But this version is one of my favorites. It's not the best quality but check out how much these kids are freaking out. Damn I want to be there!

 

Lovesick Blues--Scorsese's 'The Age of Innocence'

Since I'm counting down to a Martin Scorsese Oscar win--and he better win--I'm looking at a film that once again, reveals not only how talented he is, but multi-talented. No matter what milieu, Scorsese leaves his definitive stamp on every picture he makes. Even with lace curtains, white gloves and impeccable table manners, Scorsese finds the violence-- an inner violence, but a powerful and palpable violence in "The Age of Innocence."

The Age of Innocence

When Martin Scorsese announced he was going to adapt Edith Wharton's Pulitzer Prize winning 1920 novel The Age of Innocence to screen, an almost audible bewilderment was heard by Scorsese-lovers everywhere. Edith Wharton? The early 20th century American author who wrote of the ethics and structure of the upper-class society from which she was born? Why would Scorsese — he of Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Goodfellas — attempt to unravel this material? What could he inject into this stately, possibly stale world of talking, dining, and no touching? After the likes of A Room with a View, Howards End, and The Remains of the Day, surely Scorsese wasn't attempting to walk in James Ivory's often superb, but pillowy, footsteps? Shouldn't the auteur, provocateur, and violent genius Scorsese offer the theatrical antidote to every PBS-loving, Volvo-driving, latte-drinking Emma Thompson enthusiast with Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci bloodily kicking the shit out of some greasy shlub? Of course not. Scorsese shouldn't have to do anything — but in the case of The Age of Innocence, he did offer a signifigant antidote to James Ivory.

Just as some thought the director ill-suited for the Southwestern, waitressing, Mel's Diner, female world of his underrated and dare I say, masterful Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, Scorsese stamped 1993's Innocence with his own unique, brilliant style. Violence was conveyed not through baseball bats, ball point pens and swift kicks to the face, but through a word, a look a gesture. Beginning with the fragile, gorgeous title-sequence to the first time Daniel Day Lewis looks at Michelle Pfeiffer, we see this is indeed classic Scorsese. Lewis looks upon Pfeiffer and the camera slowly moves towards her, revealing one of the first of many, knowing glances that will permeate the picture with passionate anguish — something Scorsese, the ultimate sensualist, knows a lot about. Despite some detractors, Innocence remains another Scorsese masterwork.

Innocence takes place in the wealthy environs of turn-of-the-century New York City — a time and place where marriages were strictly coordinated so as to transfer wealth between generations and families. In this order, love is something sticky and chaotic, an upset to the sovereignty. Enter the upset. Newland Archer (Lewis) is a man set to marry May Welland (a suitably annoying Winona Ryder), a pretty young woman he likes but finds bland and a bit dense (she proves not to be later in the film). However, the marriage is an excellent merging of families, and he's "innocently" set to go until he meets the gorgeous Ellen, Countess Olenska (Pfeiffer). A woman with a past, the "racy" Ellen has already dealt with a separation from a husband whom she married outside of society's edicts, during a lengthy stay in Europe.

Returned to New York, she's talked about amongst the upper crust, even looked upon as a menace — beguiling and beautiful, she's an intelligent, complex woman who thinks for herself. Of course, this attracts the internally conflicted Archer, and his love grows more and more as each repressed Victorian day passes. Lewis and Pfeiffer have wonderfully intense chemistry in Innocence, and their moments together — though fully clothed — are so erotic that their sexual hunger is vigorously electric. Scorsese's attention to detail is immaculate, and his signature camerawork is employed with a slower, more deliberate éclat. Amidst all this elegance are both the bold director, determinedly pushing his camera on his characters like a delicate stalker, and the film's leads, the magnificent Lewis in particular, rip themselves apart with such inner, violent ardor that, well, you have to admit--this is Scorsese.

Happy Valentine's Day

The only movie that would convince me to get married. Even when it ends in cheating, cocaine addiction, the Witness Protection Program and divorce--it doesn't matter. It's still one of the most romantic pictures ever made.

This scene seals it:

And this moment. Now this is a date:

"Every time you two!"

Happy Valentine's Day.

Kim Morgan On DVD, Iguana, Battle Royale and Bon Scott

Last week, the most signifigant DVD release was Paul Mazursky's great Blume in Love, one of the highlights of 70's cinema and one of George Segal's greatest performances. Funny, sad, sweet and disturbing (a sex/rape scene is especially interesting) the movie also features terrific performances by Susan Anspach as Segal's ex and Kris Kristofferson as the musician she takes up with--and Blume befriends. It's all so perfectly rust-colored, dad's-getting-divorced 1970's. Of the DVD's released this week, there's The Departed and Marie Antoinette, but make sure to rent or buy Donald Cammell and Nicolas Roeg's gorgeously trippy Performance (starring James Fox, Mick Jagger and the wicked sexy Anita Pallenberg).

In the meantime, read my Film and DVD reviews at Strange Impersonation and anything else I’m thinking at Pretty Poison.

As for now, Three Obsessions:

1. The Night of the Iguana (1964) So wonderfully sexy and screwed up, I never tire of this picture. John Huston, legendary for filming on location— no matter how difficult the situation was— directed this powerfully effective and frequently funny adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ stage play with a genuine eye for all its heated insanity and touching humanity. Richard Burton plays a defrocked reverend and alcoholic working as a tour guide—driving a bus for a bunch of female teachers in Mexico. Losing his marbles (or coming to his senses—this is Tennessee Williams after all) he hides the bus distributor cap so the ladies are stranded at an exotic, lonely hotel run by…Ava Gardner. So that’s both hot and scary. OK, now add a lusty 18-year-old played by a highly libidinous Lolita’s Sue Lyon, a pissed off lesbian and the a-sexual Deborah Kerr and…it’s just my kind of movie. 

2. Battle Royale (2000) When I first got my hands on this movie in 2000, I watched it over and over and over again. I put it away for some time but now I'm back at it, even watching the thing when I'm going to bed. Obviously I don’t get much sleep. Kinji Fukasaku's masterpiece is a terrifying, bloody and morbidly satiric film in which kids are instructed to kill other kids. Here is the deal: In the not-so-distant future, an economically depressed Japan is having serious problems with lawless teenagers. The government passes a violent law -- the Millennial Reform School Act -- they believe will safeguard against further mayhem. The law is essentially a sick, twisted, Darwin-inspired game, in which a class of young teens are put on an island, given various weapons and forced to take each other out within three days. The last kid standing wins. Such sick fun!  Or... no, wait, this isn't really any fun at all. Watching the kid's diverse personalities (some get back at others, some want to topple the system, some still really want that certain boy to like them) is frightening, perversely funny and extraordinarily poignant within this violent milieu. And Takeshi Kitano is simultaneously terrifying and incredibly moving as their gung-ho and, in the end, lovelorn teacher. Always worth returning to.

3. Bon Scott AC/DC I don't really know who or what made me the woman I am today (if I can call myself one). I'm pretty sure it wasn't a role model or mentor since, well, I've never really had any in my life (only in movies). But if pressed, for better or for worse, my older brother would be most responsible since he exposed me to cars and the unusual combination of being obsessed with both Mommie Dearest and AC/DC at an extremely young age (he also locked me in closets and chanted "Ted Bundy"  from outside the door but I still,uh, love him). But back to AC/DC. I've seen them three times in concert (obviously with Brian Johnson and well past their masterful stuff but still great) with one show earning the distinction of my youthful eyes witnessing a girl smoke crack while telling me how "fucking awesome" Stryper was. Again, anyway...AC/DC. I love them so much it almost hurts. And as much as I think Brian Johnson is the greatest replacement front man in rock history, no one touches the badass, absolutely amazing Bon Scott. No one matches that high pitched demonic, sleazy scowl (with such a wink), very few are such beautiful degenerates and, in old interviews, so disarmingly sweet (this one being from the great AC/DC doc Let There Be Rock which is shamefully still not on DVD). "Ride On" is Bon's crowning achievement, a touching blues ballad that's as good as anything Mr. Jack White's ever done. And both "Shot Down in Flames" and "Love Hungry Man" are so powerful, they almost make me truly understand what it feels like to be a lustful man. But I have to say, I love Bon with the bagpipes. Ah...it breaks my heart. I wish he was alive to... make me the woman I am today? Maybe in some way he did.

Goodbye Anna Nicole

She is a certain personification of the American Dream. The one that Marilyn Monroe left behind decades ago when she passed away in that lonely little bedroom with the mattress and box spring on the floor. And it's the dream so many little girls fantasize about only, most little girls never truly understand just how tough it is to reach the level of an MM.

Anna Nicole Smith, for a very brief moment, almost got somewhere close to that level.

But though she never did reach the heights of Marilyn or Mamie or Jayne, she was something of a sensation, the kind of creature that only pulp fiction and Jacqueline Susann discuss with both sleazy relish and an odd sense of truth. And I loved her for that. She was beautiful, she was a gold digger, she was fat, she was thin, she was insane, she was sweet, she was exploited, she was dumb and smart, she was fake and obnoxiously real, she was drug addled, she was grief stricken, she was an absolute fucking train wreck...she was The Valley of the Dolls. An old fashioned dime-store version of the American Dream that has now, sadly, become a dime-store American tragedy.

You can laugh, or make fun, or say all you want about her, but I will always be on Anna Nicole's side.

R.I.P. Vickie Lynn Hogan.

One Beautiful Bird--Tippi Hedren

Since I've been reading all this junk about Michael Bay re-making "The Birds" and the prospect of my beloved Naomi Watts starring, I thought a revisit to one of my favorite Hitchcock picture's was in order. Much has been written about "The Birds," so I've focused on my other beloved blonde, Tippi Hedren. And, note to Naomi: Don't do it!

''It's appalling, I find it so offensive. To take a work of art like that and try to copy it is like trying to imitate the Mona Lisa."

--Tippi Hedren on The Birds re-make

I could name numerous Alfred Hitchcock films that I watch on a continual, almost sick-in-the-head basis, but three stick with me the most: Vertigo, Marnie, and The Birds. I'm not entirely certain why I gravitate towards these films so much, but I know it has something to do with their unusual actresses; their unresolved scenarios and the absolute doomsday feeling the picture's provoke (especially The Birds). They are also extraordinarily beautiful, and especially vivid--Hitchcock dipped into his color palette with expectional imagination and depth. Colors mean something in these films. And yet, as bright as they are, they remain some of the darkest within Hitchcock's canon (I would argue, in many ways, even darker than Psycho). But like Psycho, all of these pictures reveal the director's predilection for leaving his heroines vulnerable to danger, dementia and doom.

In them, we can see Hitchcock's bent, or as Camille Paglia states in her excellent assessment of The Birds, his "perverse ode to woman's sexual glamour...in all its seductive phases, from brittle artifice to melting vulnerability."

Who more perfect to represent Paglia's above declaration than, not only Kim Novak in Vertigo (a movie in which she gave the best performance of her life), but the incredibly underrated Tippi Hedren, a woman whose career seems to have revolved around Hitchcock's. The luminous Grace Kelly may be considered the quintessential Hitchcock blonde goddess but she's not, in my mind, as cinematically artistic as Novak or Hedren. An assured actress with mathematically perfect features, she's a patrician on the outside and a sexual animal underneath for sure. But Kelly is too perfect (James Stewart's complaint in Rear Window). She never touched the wounded, transgressive eroticism of Hedren or Novak. Part of that could lie in Hitchcock himself--he never tortured her.

And in The Birds, Hedren was a particularly bizarre interest for the director. A movie long considered (ridiculously so) lesser Hitchcock, The Birds is truly, one of the directors most brilliant and subversive works. Hedren, who was at the time, criticized for her performance has proven that within Hitchcock’s vision (perhaps a mean and sick vision), she’s as masterful and challenging and interesting (if not moreso) as the director's other distressed movie heroines.

Hedren plays Melanie Daniels, an independent rich girl who, in pursuit of uber handsome Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor) meets all sorts of problems when she journeys to Bodega Bay. Chiefly, there's resentment from every other female character in the film (though there's a strong homo-erotic undercurrent in her dealings with Suzanne Pleshette). And then those birds come around—thousands, millions of them. Whether stuck in a diner, in a telephone booth or in the usually safe confines of Mitch’s cozy family home, there’s no escaping the winged throng.

But what makes the film so intriguing is that it's not just the millions of bloodthirsty birds messing with poor Melanie, it's the gals as well. Watching the weird interplay between Hedren and Mitch's mother (a wonderfully terse Jessica Tandy) brings up all kinds of strange scenarios—is the mother just being overprotective, or is she a little too caring about her son? Why does she hate her so? Indeed, why does every woman in Bodega Bay seem to hate Melanie Daniels? In one of the film’s most telling scenes, a frightened mother blames the bird invasion on Melanie, screaming at her “I think you’re evil! Evil!”

The Birds is a movie of endless complexities—all helped, not hindered, from a terrific performance by Hedren. The decidedly non-method actress fits perfectly in Hitchcock's precise frames, and each movement is appropriately calculated. Though a "carefree" playgirl, Melanie is truly a tightly wound bird herself. Her biggest challenge is in handling the numerous flocks (human and otherwise) inhabiting the town. Mothers, sisters, earthy women, common townsfolk and birds crack Melanie's pristine exterior of white gloves, mint-green suits and matching handbags. And by the end, those suits and gloves are torn to bits. It’s not just birds against man, its birds against birds (the female variety) and if they’re flocking together, something is deeply, deeply wrong.

Which furthers my thoughts that Hitchcock saw something both disturbed and rather commonplace inside womankind. Something more than women want to see in themselves. Understanding their perfected calculations, their sexual mystery, their age-old competitions, their alternately reserved and hysterical glamour and weirdly, their power, Hitch’s birds, winged or skirted, had beautiful, beautiful bite.

La-Di-Da--Talking With Diane Keaton

Sorry, my Diane Keaton love-fest isn't over. Here's my interview with the talented woman during which she laughed a lot, poked fun and was incredibly confident while humorously self deprecating. I think Diane Keaton IS Annie Hall only, smarter.

Diane Keaton is one of the coolest actors I've ever talked to. Which almost seems weird to say but, for the most part, actors never present themselves as terribly interesting people in interviews and usually ramble a bunch of bullshit about how "amazing" their new movie is. So not only was Keaton intelligent, funny, quick to laugh, humble and opinionated, but she's also multi-faceted, living a life beyond the industry scene. The leading lady of many of American cinema’s modern classics (The Godfather, Annie Hall, Manhattan, Reds) has been directed by legendary filmmakers like Francis Ford Coppola, Woody Allen and Warren Beatty and is a talented director in her own right (Heaven, Unstrung Heroes). She’s also an archivist, book author, a passionate advocate for historic preservation, and a collector of clown paintings which was turned into a book that I absolutely love (along with her wonderful ahead-of-it's time photo-book Still Life)

Keaton took a break from filming Smother (in which she plays Dax Shepard’s mom) to discuss her newest film, Because I Said So (directed by Michael Lehmann and co-starring Mandy Moore) as well as her past pictures and numerous outside projects. Make sure to read her answers in Keaton's voice.

Q: You’ve had such a wonderful career with so many interesting roles from Annie Hall to Looking for Mr. Goodbar to The Godfather— you really are a cross between a character actress and a leading lady. Do you think that’s the secret to a long career?

A: You know what I think the secret to a long career is? Being lucky, being in good movies - who knows why I got there! And the other is I guess, if you’re in enough comedies you’re going to last a little bit longer because they just keep putting you in comedies. Comedies are the saving grace, believe me they are.

Q: Do you think it’s harder to do comedies than dramatic roles?

A: No! No. It’s harder for me to do drama. I was kind of born to be a jerk or an idiot or someone’s hapless sidekick, you know, the moron (laughs). I shouldn’t say that, because that’s so rude, but you know, the person who’s the fall girl. The over-the-shoulder wife, the hapless, friendly, not too bright woman.

Q: But those can be some of the greatest parts in cinema.

A: Yeah, I mean look: I love Gracie Allen. And I always loved Lucille Ball.

Q: You were a big part of 1970’s cinema and were in some major films of that era. Do you agree with the popular notion that the 70’s were the last golden age of movies?

A: Oh that’s ridiculous. I don’t agree with that. We had great movies then, but we’re making great movies now. I don’t understand that assessment at all. And I think the whole approach to cinema is much more advanced. I don’t agree, not even for a second.

Q: So, speaking of current cinema, in your newest film you play an overprotective mother to three daughters. What really attracted you to this script and part?

A: Every single aspect of the movie. I love the cast, I love Lauren [Graham] and Piper [Perabo], I adore Mandy [Moore], and I know Steve Collins from The First Wives Club. That’s good, as it’s always important to know who you’re working with. Never underestimate that. And of course [director] Michael Lehmann and [screenwriter] Jessie [Nelson], who is my friend. I loved the fun of the role — the real comic aspect of Because I Said So. Also, the idea for me to defend overprotective mothers everywhere. When you look at [my character’s] daughters, she did a damn good job. So guess what? Care about your kids (laughs) - even if you’re annoying!

Q: You just talked about working with these young actresses - did they come to you for advice, or did you offer them any?

A: No. No. No. I don’t think it’s a good idea to give people advice.

Q: Really? Why is that?

A: No! Why? (Mock horror). Why am I the person who knows what they should be doing? That’s absurd. And, I’m not their mother. And it’s unflattering to tell incredibly talented people: “Here, listen to me; I know what you should do.” Like I know what they should do…We had fun. We had a lot of fun hanging out doing girly things in the makeup trailer. But what, I’m going to say, “Gee you, know you shouldn’t date that guy!”? That’s ridiculous! I did nothing but date men that I probably shouldn’t have dated! I’m not going to tell them how they should do it, because I’m certainly no example. And in fact, I think people have to kind of learn on their own. Don’t you? They’re doing great. (Says humorously) Yeah, here’s some advice from me: “Mandy, let’s talk about that singing…”

Q: But you are a singer in your own right, if I recall your performances in Annie Hall and Radio Days…

A: [Sarcastically]: Yeah, I’m really a great singer! But you know, I do love singing, I love it - but when you’re standing next to Bette Midler and you’re singing—you go, “Huh…[guess I’m] not so good.” Then you’re standing next to Mandy Moore – “Hmm…the dream’s over now.” Mandy is a great singer.

Q: This has been an impressive year for women in film. From Penelope Cruz in Volver to Cate Blanchett in Babel to Helen Mirren in The Queen to Toni Collette in Little Miss Sunshine to Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. Are there any performances this year that really knocked you out?

A: Every single one you mentioned. All of them! Beautiful! And the girl who was in Babel: Rinko Kikuchi…oh my God, she was just outstanding. And Penelope Cruz, I fell in love with Penelope Cruz – she was astonishing!

Q: Any Oscar Predictions?

A: It will be Helen Mirren. It has to be. She definitely deserves it. I mean, they have to give it to her. Not to take anything away from Penelope Cruz, who was absolutely stunning!

Q: Mirren was great…

A: Yeah! I think so. (sarcastically) I think she was a little great in that role (laughs). I mean, she blew me away. I sobbed. I loved her. Can you imagine? I never thought I’d even have a thought about The Queen of England, and now I care about her. She humanized her. It was a very informative movie and it was really touching and complicated too.

Q: How did winning the Academy Award affect your own career?

A: Enormously. It gives you at least a couple years of more options [for roles]. It does that for everyone.

Q: Looking for Mr. Goodbar was a daring, controversial movie in its day. Did you think you were taking a risk with that role?

A: I didn’t consider it a risk. I had to audition for it. It was a huge part, everybody wanted it. And the fact that I got it – that was the most amazing part of it all. It was an opportunity to expand and try something very different from Annie Hall.

Q: How do you feel about Looking for Mr. Goodbar after all these years? Have you seen it recently?

A: I only saw it once. I haven’t seen it in like 25 years. I don’t really know how the movie has aged. Sometimes movies remain wonderful like The Grapes of Wrath, but sometimes they don’t age well. I don’t look back on my movies; I haven’t seen any of them.

Q: None? Why is that?

A: No, I don’t want to go there. I did it and I experienced it and some of these movies I made were huge learning experiences and some of them introduced me to people I loved. So these [films] are of course, significant in my life. But I don’t want to go back and look at them.

Q: I love your unique photography and art books, especially your published collection of clown paintings.

A: I love the clown painting book! That was like a little production, getting all these wonderful people to actually say something about [clowns and] clown paintings! [Editors’ Note: Keaton gathered comments about clowns from fellow actors, ranging from Woody Allen to Ben Stiller to Lisa Kudrow.] That was a really hard job and it was wonderful that they contributed to the book. That one meant a lot to me. You do these books and they come out and they disappear. Nobody ever sees them. I’m surprised you even know about it. I’m coming out with a couple of new books this year: one with [art publisher] Rizzoli called California Romantica. I’m obsessed with Spanish Colonial Revival architecture here in California and the book will be a collection of photos of classic Spanish homes. And then I have a book I’m preparing now on scrapbooks...

Q: You’re a big part of the historic preservation movement, especially here in Los Angeles. I love going downtown and I think it’s sad to see some of our neglected movie palaces. Do you have high hopes for a comeback for some of these theaters and downtown L.A. in general?

A: Don’t worry, we’re working on it. Are you a member of the Los Angeles Conservancy? And if you’re not, girl, you should be – and everyone who cares about the future should be involved in historic preservation. I do have high hopes for those old movie palaces, as there’s so much going on downtown. It is fun and enriching to hold onto the past as a reminder – just for your own sense of humanity – as well as looking forward, towards the future, trying to change an aspect of what the future will bring.

Q: Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do that you haven’t done yet?

A: No, I just keep doing what engages me now and hope to continue being engaged in the way that I am in the present. I’m excited to continue to follow my passions, my hobbies, in a way that makes me really happy. They really fulfill and round out your life. You’re not just thinking about yourself as an actress or that your whole life is centered on your career. That would be sad. It’s really exciting to stay involved and I feel lucky to have so much on my plate.

From my Fandango Interview with Ms. Keaton

Because I Think So--The Best Of Diane Keaton

That Diane Keaton is an odd one. And I'm not talking about her fashion sense (which, incidentally, I've always admired). No, Keaton is odd in that she's a wonderfully rare type of actress who has managed the tough task of playing leading lady, character actress and comedienne, sometimes all at once. She's also a fascinating director, photographer and archivist in her own right. And yes, she dated Woody Allen and Warren Beatty. What a life this woman has led.

And what a film career. Though not possessing the range of say, Meryl Streep, Keaton's always been an interesting presence, an actress whose screwy charm (that snorting laugh, that scattered delivery) belies a deep intelligence that still fascinates.  Here are 10 reasons why.

10. Something's Gotta Give (2003)
The premise of writer/director Nancy Meyers' sappy dramedy was somewhat annoying, not because it wasn't realistic (we all know older men like the younger ladies, especially in Hollywood), but because the leads -- Keaton and Jack Nicholson -- deserved a more inspired vision. And yet, the film is funny and often very touching because of their performances, and especially Keaton, who takes trite romantic comic dialogue and makes it her own. As a 57-year-old writer who finds herself reluctantly convalescing 63-year-old ladies' man Nicholson (who is having a fling with her daughter), Keaton bravely pokes fun at being the older lady -- the one who hides her age in turtleneck sweaters. She's lonely (which is hard to believe given how charming and smart and still good looking she is), she's a little bitter and she's somewhat sickened by Nicholson's double standard ... and yet she finds herself falling for the S.O.B. And he starts falling for her. Though the film is lightweight stuff, Keaton delivers gravitas, humanity and likeability to the winning combination of Jack and Diane.

9. Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)
Released right after the notorious Woody Allen/Soon Yi-Previn scandal, Diane Keaton was walking into something of a minefield by taking a role in Allen's charming Manhattan Murder Mystery. For one, the public was still grappling with Allen's actions (though most true-blue fans quickly forgave -- especially when he made the hilariously acerbic, self-hating Deconstructing Harry) and for two, Keaton took over a role intended for Mia Farrow. No worries. Keaton, once Allen's girlfriend -- pre-Mia, and most inspired muse -- worked perfectly in his scenario, as she did in all the Allen movies she starred in (Honestly, I could list every single one of them here but I can't make this list just about Woody Allen movies.) The story has a bored New York wife, Carol (Keaton), caught in a Rear Window scenario when she suspects her old neighbor of killing his wife. She enlists the help of a friend (Alan Alda) to sleuth with her while generally driving her unsuspecting husband, Larry (Allen), nuts. His answer to her suspicions of the husband's lack of mourning is "What should he do? Walk down the street sobbing?" It's great fun seeing the duo re-unite after so many years -- almost melancholy, really, since their chemistry is still so magical.

8. Marvin's Room (1996)
This kind of movie is never my cup of tea. Obviously, a character being ravaged by leukemia is going to be sympathetic, and in most films, the linchpin to completely manipulate your emotions. Marvin's Room is almost no different -- almost -- if not for the terrific cast of Meryl Streep, Leonardo DiCaprio, Gwen Verdon, Hume Cronyn and Keaton working a symmetry that only actors can have when playing people who can't stand each other. Keaton is startlingly real here as Bessie, a woman who's been taking care of her dying father without any contact or help from her hairdresser sister (Streep). When she gets sick, her sister returns along with two sons, one a deeply troubled teen (DiCaprio), who set her house on fire. Streep and Keaton play awkward to the hilt, but with subtly and sweetness that, again, almost annoys. But Keaton's reflective and often effectively uncomfortable performance is so palpable and so wonderfully realized, you can't help but fall for her. It's a six-hankie affair for sure, but Keaton helps push the film beyond its dangerous disease-of-the-week territory.

7. Shoot the Moon (1981)
Shoot the Moon is a flawed movie made absorbing by two great performances, by Albert Finney and Diane Keaton. As the cheating husband who's kicked out of the house by his wife of 15 years (Keaton), Finney gets much of the film's meaty moments. But Keaton's distress and rage is so honestly painful, it's tough not being affected by it, even while viewing the film as problematic. The anguish here is not a fun place to visit, as Keaton well reveals in her scenes of attempting to regain her dignity. She starts a relationship as one step, but there's a terrific sadness to it -- as anyone who's really trying to get over another person so obviously conveys when they're supposedly "getting on with their life." And a moment Keaton has in the bathtub is a killer. Again, it's a wonderful performance, but you often want to snatch her from the movie and plop her in a comedy -- there's just something not right about Diane Keaton being that sad.

6. Crimes of the Heart (1986)
An underrated women's picture (not "chick flick"), Crimes of the Heart, adapted from Beth Henley's stage play, features a kind of holy trinity of leading lady power: Sissy Spacek, Jessica Lange and, of course, Diane Keaton. A sunny Southern Gothic, the story moves from melodrama to comedy to loopiness with a charming ease, thanks mainly to the three actresses who chew the scenery with equal mastication, playing three very different Southern sisters. Keaton is the dumpy one, the hausfrau who can't find a man, who remains in the family's dead mother's house and who keeps tabs on "Old Grandaddy" while her pretty sister, (a world weary and sexy Lange) zooms back into town and her nutty, cute sister (a lovable Spacek) shoots her abusive husband. Keaton does the eccentric frump right as she skillfully switches the very heated emotions the sister's reunion provides. She heartily laughs at inappropriate moments, gets angry (her meltdown over a box of chocolates is hilarious) and convincingly loves her sisters -- even when they drive her crazy. Heartwarming can be such a cliché emotion in movies, but Keaton manages to convey it with a weirdly over-the-top reality. That's talent.

5. The Godfather and The Godfather Part II (1972, 1974)
Poor Kay Adams. She wasn't Michael Corleone's first love (that honor went to the beautiful girl/wife in Sicily who was blown up in a car) but she was the appropriate choice. A WASPy, maternal type who added to Michael's respectability, Keaton's Kay remained relatively silent throughout the first picture, living in willful ignorance of Michael's, uh, lifestyle and business dealings. But when he closed the door on her (in the original film's famous final scene) the problems really started. One of her greatest moments in the entire saga is during a domestic battle with Michael, during which she reveals she didn't lose her baby, but horrors, aborted it. The moment is absolutely shattering, and you feel sorry for Kay (you really feel bad for her), but also for Michael, who started the disintegration of the family in the first place -- this is the result. One of Keaton's finest moments.

4. Manhattan (1979)
It takes talent to make a character who is, at first, pretty pretentious and annoying into an actually likeable character whom you come to care about. Such is Diane Keaton's Mary in Woody Allen's classic Manhattan. She's the woman who's having an affair with Allen's best friend (played by Michael Murphy) but is dumped when the relationship endangers his marriage. She moves on to Allen who, in classic romantic comedy style, can't stand each other on first meeting. She hates the art he likes, the composers he admires and thinks Bergman is overrated. Allen is fascinated nonetheless and the two begin a friendship (while Allen dates a 17-year-old played by Mariel Hemingway) that morphs into romance. It's an unlikely union between two self obsessed, neurotic smarty pants but it's witty and romantic and sad all at once. Keaton is terrific -- insecure (Allen claims her self esteem must be a "notch below Kafka's") while being completely full of herself. In other words, real. Incompatibility has never been so romantic.

3. Reds (1981)
Though some critics thought Keaton not,well hot enough to play the, super sexy radical
Louise Bryant in Warren Beatty's fantastic epic Reds, Keaton nails the part -- partly for her own skills as an actress and partly for the company around her. When a sublime Jack Nicholson (playing Eugene O'Neill) calls you a "heartbreaker," you are one. And when Warren Beatty's famed journalist/communist activist finally asks you to marry him (even when he really doesn't believe in it), you're holding some serious sway over these men. Playing the real-life Bryant as frequently insecure and intimidated but uninhibited and a true "Queen of Bohemia" (as her biographer proclaimed her), Keaton conveys a potent mixture of vulnerability, sexuality and manipulation. Her scenes with Nicholson absolutely sizzle and her arguments with Beatty (a lover offscreen as well) are so convincing, you'd think their fights were real. Were they?

2. Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977)
What's a nice girl like Diane Keaton doing in a movie like this? That's what many a viewer thought while watching Richard Brooks' disturbing, sexual and violent Looking for Mr. Goodbar, a notorious movie that continues to confuse with its moral message. Is the film judging the sexually free, hedonistic life of Keaton's character, or is it judging the world surrounding her -- a world full of darkness and bad luck and consequences? What kind of cautionary tale is it? The film remains remarkably subversive (and unanswerable) and incredibly strong, chiefly with the very nice presence of Keaton. Adapted from Judith Rossner's bestselling book, Keaton plays lonely and lost Theresa -- a sweet young woman who teaches first grade to deaf-mutes by day and makes herself available at the singles bars by night. And she really makes herself available. Through many sexual encounters, some more disturbing than others, we watch Keaton's Theresa, perhaps masochistically, delve into a promiscuity rarely seen by leading ladies. And she's not just playing the "tramp" -- she truly is confused. Keaton is perfect in the role because she looks like the girl you take home to mom. Her line delivery is wonderfully distracted, and every giggle or aside subtly reveals her avoidance to the deeper truth about herself. It's a bravura, shocking and ultimately heartbreaking performance and Keaton's bravest work to date.

1. Annie Hall (1977)
You've seen a lot of Woody Allen on this list, which is simply unavoidable, as so much of Keaton's appeal is best displayed in Allen's pictures. And no more is this evident in Keaton's most famous, most iconic role -- as the quirky, eponymous leading lady of Allen's masterpiece, Annie Hall. Where to begin? There's the romance between neurotic comedy writer Alvie Singer (Allen) and the kooky aspiring singer Annie (Keaton), a woman who drives insanely, sits nice with her secretly crazy WASP family (well, her brother, played by Christopher Walken, is nuts), dons lots of spiffy Ralph Lauren menswear and says things like "la-di-da." Keaton is such a wonderfully "New York" character -- not overtly feminine, and yet very much a woman; a little daffy and up for new experiences (like reading The National Review), and yet continually wholesome. In other hands, Annie could have been too dizzy (annoying even), but when she calls Alvie in the middle of the night to kill a spider "the size of a Buick," it actually melts your heart when you learn she really just misses him. And who can forget their lobster date? So, so charming. Not only will there never be another Annie Hall, there'll never be an actress like Diane Keaton to play her.

From My Annie Hall Of Fame story at MSN Movies