Whatever Happened to Cinder?

Who is Cinder, you may ask? Cinder was a bit character in one of the long-forgotten teen comedy/coming of age movies from 1980. It featured former teen stars, Kristy McNichol and Tatum O’Neal, whose characters meet at summer camp and immediately discover a strong dislike of each other. Meanwhile,  one of the other gals–a budding little borderline personality named Cinder–decides to play the two against each other and makes a bet that whoever loses her virginity first wins $100.00. A very young and virtually unknown Matt Dillon plays the local yokel Romeo that Angel (McNichol) develops a crush on.  Teen angst and cheeseball hilarity ensue.

The role of Cinder was played by Krista Errickson, an actress that can best be described as a never was. Following Little Darlings, she had a long string of supporting roles on television but never quite became a brand name. In fact, for the great majority of anyone reading this piece, you likely have no idea as to who I’m even talking about. Unless you have some kind of personal anecdotal connection to the movie, that is. As in, you remember when the film debuted and your friends nicknamed you Cinder because not only did you share similar looks but you also had the same cunty/bipolar personality. Or some such idiotic thing. You probably still do. But hey, what do I know.

Notwithstanding the mouse costume featuring prominent nipplage & titties on full display as seen below from Darlings, Errickson never really progressed as an actress beyond that of playing a teenaged dick tease. 

But to be fair, probably the role she’s most associated with, and the closest she ever got to establishing any kind of notoriety, was playing Diane Alder, the teenaged daughter of Larry from the Hello, Larry show.  And after bouncing around  from utterly forgettable part to utterly forgettable part on weekly TV, she ultimately disappeared from the entertainment industry in 1994 and eventually went on to become a freelance journalist and documentary director in Italy, evidently having used her acting money to finance a college education at some point. She also married a director of the TV station she worked for, which, no doubt, helped grease the wheels of her Italian television anchorwoman career.

I’ve never seen Darlings, but was aware of its cheese factor and overacted performances, which was standard operating procedure for the time.  Some of the kids that I knew at school had claimed to have seen it but early 80s chick flick just wasn’t my kind of movie. Besides, 1980 brought us a banner crop of notables including:  The Empire Strikes Back, Airplane!, Stir Crazy, Nine to Five, Any Which Way You Can, Private Benjamin, Coal Miner’s Daughter, Smokey and the Bandit II, The Blue Lagoon and The Blues Brothers. I think I watched every single one of them on late night HBO while my mom stood intermittently at the top of the stairs telling me to turn down the TV or go to bed. 

Back then, Little Darlings was so far off my radar it may as well have not even existed. But then where would we have ever gotten our sense of style from?  Darlings was chock full of feathered male & female mullets!  And where else would we have gotten the idea that the apex of teenage male sexuality was epitomized by a hippie haired, monosyllabic moron with a giant schnoz named Matt Dillon?

As for Tatum O’Neal,  she was so unlikable/un-relatable that she may as well have had tentacles and originated from Jupiter. I had seen Paper Moon (1973) and was completely bored with it, but I did like her character, somewhat, in The Bad News Bears (1976). 

The sum total of what I knew about Kristy McNichol was that she played a mousy, little, tomboy named Buddy on a TV show called Family that my mom made me watch with her. 

The only reason I mention Darlings here at all is because it serves as context for Cinder. You see, I had always wondered who the actress was in the  L.A. Woman video. I was certain that I had seen her somewhere else before and as it turns out, I was right. Errickson played the bottled blonde hooker standing on the street corner who picks up the wrong john and ends up dancing around as a corpse excerpted from a dia de los muertos montage that nobody outside of Los Angeles, California would have known what the hell it was.  And me being a kid from the coal region, I had absolutely no idea in 1985 when I saw the L.A. Woman video. I just thought it was some artsy-fartsy thing but, the hooker in the vid was none other than Cinder. Or, more accurately, what Cinder would have ultimately grown up to be, that is, if only someone had bothered to write an arc for the character.

Perhaps Errickson was unhappy with her performance/compensation because she doesn’t even cite her appearance in the video in her official filmography resume, but it’s definitely her. Check it out. Full video found here.

 

Heeeeeere’s Nigel

Yes, after a long hiatus (cough cough cough) I have returned.  I’m sure you’re happy to see me, again, eh?   Go grab more of whatever you’re deliriously eating/drinking/rolling around in because you’ll probably enjoy what I’m about to write.  Well, I enjoyed it and that’s really the only thing that matters, after all.  The fact that you’re accessing this site really only proves one thing…that you like to lurk!  This is the only reasonable deduction since very few of you ever bother to comment.  Or follow me on social media.  Or say, Hey, PF, dude, where the hell you been?

I wrote the follow apropos of a little thought experiment.  Basically, I created a character and inserted him into a well known movie. (Kubrick would be proud.) But before you read about it, you really ought to head out to YT and watch the following clip as it sets up the scene I wrote.  The audio is really craptacular so be sure to crank your speaker.

The Shining – Bar Scene

Now on to what you really came here for.

Jack Torrance sat at the empty bar and took a slug from the 2-fingers worth of bourbon that Lloyd, the red-jacketed bartender, had just poured into a small highball glass for him.  He held it up, lovingly, eyes twinkling, and made a toast, Here’s to five months on the wagon and all the irreparable harm it caused me.  As he set down his drink, he admired how the ambient lighting in the ballroom glinted off the crystal.  Just then, Wendy, his wife, scampered into the room, carrying a wooden bat and whimpering.  Her blubbering snapped his reverie and he was suddenly plunged back into the present –the bartender, his glass and bottle of bourbon all having vanished from sight.  His glee had been swiftly transformed into annoyance, and when she put her hand on his shoulder, to force him to listen to her, there was no escaping.  The silly bitch was always pestering him with what he considered inanities, and was forever sobbing about Danny, their seven year old.  The poor kid couldn’t make a move without the old sperm bank wailing about it.  And then, as predicted, she launched into an agitated account about a crazy woman in one of the rooms of the hotel having attempted to strangle his son.

At a table located far from the bar, he watched them, Jack Torrance, the new caretaker of the hotel, and his delirious wife, Wendy, as she described a woman in a bathtub going after their child. He chuckled, softly, to himself, when Jack asked Wendy if she was out of her mind. He had finished his own drink as he patiently waited for Jack to tell her to go back to their quarters before he made his presence known. Excuse me, Mr. Torrance… His tone was as balmy as his mint julep cocktail had been. A word before you speak to Mrs. Abernathy? He asked, affably.

Startled at the sound of the stranger’s voice, Jack spun around, nearly losing balance. The bartender and his bourbon had both reappeared the moment Wendy had departed the ballroom. As his perception settled back into his alternate reality, the intruder strode towards Jack and held out his hand. My name is Thorpe. Nigel, to my friends. Jack shook his hand, enthusiastically, while Lloyd replenished his glass and poured another for the newcomer.

Thorpe reached for his drink and apologized, Pardon me, for saying so, but Agnes didn’t mean to alarm your son. He was picking off imaginary particles of dust from his sharply starched lapels and continued, It’s just that it has been so long since her own son has visited, well, the poor woman was positively delighted for the company! Her, uh, exuberance, was a bit much, admittedly, but she meant no harm. He said, sheepishly.

Jack considered his explanation, briefly, eying the man’s monocle and crisply tailored jacket. The two then clinked their glasses together, amicably, before downing their drinks. That’s quite alright, Nigel, my friend, Jack’s tone was mollifying. Wendy has an over-active imagination and often creates drama where absolutely none was intended.

Happy to hear it, old chum, Nigel’s tone was as superficially magnanimous as Jack’s. What say we both pay Aggie a visit? He suggested, with a wink. She absolutely adores entertaining guests from the comfort of a hot bath!

Nigel, my boy, I think I’m in the mood for a bath, myself, Jack announced, as his face broke into a wide, lewd grin.

Prattle Encore | Defeat Snatched from the Jaws of Victory

[The following is an encore piece that was originally published 13 January 2010]

From an American sports enthusiast’s perspective, if the February 22, 1980 win over the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics by the U.S. Men’s Hockey Team is regarded as the greatest moment in sporting history, then the 1972 Summer Olympics, officially known as the Games of the XX Olympiad held in Munich, of what was then West Germany, were the worst.

The ’72 Summer Olympics were the second set held in Germany after the ’36 Games in Berlin. A mere twenty-seven years had passed since the end of the Second World War, and, the Cold War between the United States and the U.S.S.R. was very much alive, which served to make the Games more political than sporting.  In no other event but men’s basketball was this fact evidenced more clearly.

Despite the Munich Massacre that had occurred ten days in, the International Olympic Committee (“IOC”) had resolved to continue the Games, nonetheless. Entering the tournament with seven consecutive gold medals and a 63-0 Olympic record, the U.S. Men’s Basketball Team had dominated its first eight games, and, was slated to face the Soviets in the final that has since become the most controversial three seconds in Olympic history.

Controversy

At the end of the second half, the U.S. was trailing the Soviets by one point. American guard, Doug Collins had stolen a pass from the Russians at half court and was subsequently knocked down and then rewarded with a couple free throws for the foul. With three seconds remaining on the clock, Collins stepped up to the foul line and sunk both shots making the score USA 50 – USSR 49.

Play had just resumed when the horn sounded signaling what most believed was the end of the game. Instead, bedlam had erupted from the sidelines.  An assistant Russian coach was adamant that he had called a timeout, but whether he had actually signaled for one is a matter of debate.

With one second showing on the clock, the officials attempted to calm everyone down so the game could continue. The announcement from the P.A. was that the clock was being returned to three seconds. Television cameras zooming in on the scoreboard showed the clock frozen at fifty seconds. Play had barely resumed when the horn sounded again and the network announcer concluded that the game was over and that the Americans had won their eighth consecutive gold medal.

Television news camera crews, announcers, photographers and fans had then poured onto the court to congratulate the jubilantly triumphant Team USA, but the celebratory melee was short lived. Referee whistles were blown and FIBA Secretary General, R. William Jones was on court conferring with officials and scorekeepers to tell them that the clock was “unofficial.” Despite having no formal authority to do so, he ordered that the clock be set back to three seconds.

Players were then rushed back out onto the court, and, before play resumed, one of the officials motioned to American player Tom McMillen to back away from the Russian in-bounder, Ivan Edeshko, who was holding the ball. Fearing repercussion from the official, McMillen complied and in doing so, left the court wide open.

Edeshko was then able to whip the ball down the length of the court where it went to Aleksandr Belov who then out-jumped American defenders Kevin Joyce and Jim Forbes  and easily scored a layup for the win bringing the score to USA 50 – USSR 51.   The horn sounded for the final time and the announcer then stated again that the game was over while Russian fans crowded onto the court to mob Belov.  Confusion erupted again from the sidelines and Coach Iba was again seen speaking to officials, but the game had been officially called over.

The beleaguered U.S. team immediately filed an appeal with FIBA to contest the game, but this was an appeal where the outcome was a foregone conclusion given the nationality of the participating judges.   FIBA officials took approximately fourteen hours before rendering a decision voting along communist-bloc national lines.   Italy and Puerto Rico voted for the USA, and, Poland, Cuba and Hungary sided with the USSR awarding the Gold Medal to the Soviets.

When Team USA was told  by their manager that they had won the Silver Medal, the team had unanimously decided to refuse to accept, and, instead, both staff and team boarded the first flight home without attending the official awards ceremony.

Aftermath

Thirty-seven years have passed since that September day in Munich, and the Silver Medals that were to be awarded to the 1972 U.S. Men’s Basketball team still lay unclaimed and locked in a vault in Lausanne, Switzerland.   Since then, the team receives letters from the Olympic Committee every few years asking to accept their medals, but only two sellouts members of the team have told Sports Illustrated that they would.  Under the terms of the offer, the IOC has specified that in order to receive the medals, the entire team must be in agreement.

The majority of the team has made it known that they will never, under any circumstances accept the medals, and, at least one member, Ken Davis, has set forth in his Will that no member of his family may accept the medal even posthumously.

Tom McMillen has since become a U.S. Congressman and has used his power to appeal to the IOC to revisit its 1972 decision awarding the Silver to the United States.   Basing his appeal on the 2002 Winter Olympics figure skating scandal, he argued that William Jones’s unauthorized intervention brought similar undue pressure upon the officials and scorekeepers of the 1972 game.  The IOC refused to relent and has instead instituted more stringent rules for international competitions in an attempt to prevent similar incidents from occurring again.

Black Canyon Productions had a most excellent documentary that aired on HBO during the summer of 2002 entitled, :03 Seconds from Gold, but unfortunately, the film may be yet another victim of the distribution/copyright wars waged by big company content providers. Sadly, I have not been able to find it either from HBO directly via their DVD website or anywhere else.  The Journal of Sport History, however, published a piece written by Chris Elzey that is the next best thing to the documentary itself.

©2010 Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™ with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Proof that Retro Children’s TV Writers were High

I don’t want to come off as Mr. Hand here, but during the 60s-70s, people who wrote for children’s television were, in fact, on dope.  My entire generation grew up thinking it was OK to wear neon pink & diarrhea green horizontal & vertical stripes together because that’s what the drugged out, “youthful indiscretion” Boomers (before they sold out the country) were wearing on TV.

Don’t get me wrong –there is some freakiness on the contemporary b00b tube, but I have yet to see anything equal to or exceeding the shit I was subjected to. Even Sponge Bob doesn’t come anywhere near to being as bizarre as retro children’s programming.

Direct your attention to the following exhibits:

H.R. Pufnstuff

Nevermind that MickeyD’s stole the trademark for Mayor McCheese’s likeness from the H.R. Pufnstuff character, let’s focus on the characters themselves –Have you seen these things?  They’re straight out of a Rufees nightmare.

H.R. himself looks like a tweaker on a week-long bender. Just take a look at those dark circles under his eyes. The blue sash was obviously added as a last minute accessory to his ribbed lizard body ensemble during a moment of extreme mania while watching the Miss America pageant.  And what was up with the white, pointy-toed, shit-kickers?  No doubt, H.R. was probably expecting to either have to rustle up some dogies or audition for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders on a moment’s notice, or both, and wanted to be prepared, nonetheless.

Witchiepoo scared the bejesus out of me during my preschool years. No wonder the witch who lived next door to my childhood home gave me the Hershey squirts in my tighty-whities. Why do mentally unstable women always have red hair?  And the twin Keystone-like cops? I had a phobia against midgets until I was at least twelve as a result of this show.

And what was up with the golden talking flute with the sensual lips in Jimmy’s pocket? Makes me wonder now what other “magical” qualities the flute practiced on Jimmy during their private moments together…you know, since Jimmy’s lips always seemed to be sucking on Freddy the magic flute’s (ahem) head.

The Banana Splits

I’ve often wondered if this is how the Beatles appeared to someone on LSD while listening to a Gary Lewis tune. (Pssst: Gary Lewis wrote and sang the theme song to the Banana Splits show.)

The Bugaloos

It is difficult to gauge exactly what Sid & Marty Kroft were trying to convey with this show. It couldn’t have been to teach children to be tolerant of clearly mentally-challenged, tootie-fruities who wore little pink wings and flew through the air…could it?

Incidentally, I also want to point out here that the mentally unstable woman in this show -Benita Bizarre- (Martha Raye) had red hair.

The Magic Garden (NY region)

All you need to know about this show’s particular narcotic influence can be summed up in two words:

Chuckle patch.

©2011 Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™ with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Retro Rewind | Fantastic Planet (La Planète Sauvage)

Back during the late 70s/early 80s, television programming was a lot less dumbed down if you can even believe that. Cases in point:  the original animated Hobbit (1977), and, pretty much anything produced by the Rankin Bass people. Times were simpler, and animated features were witty. Some were even intelligent.  But somewhere around 2003, the era of the Saturday morning cartoon disappeared, and, so did the broadcasting of the occasional, award winning animated film. Another case in point: The Secret of Kells.

Presumably, we no longer see this kind of programming because the audience just isn’t there anymore. Or maybe it is, and, the generation that grew up watching this particular era of TV just isn’t all that compelling to commercial interests compared to the greediest demographic in the history of the universe and their spawn. After all, there are only about 40 million Gen Xers vs. 80 million each of the Boomers & their children, but I digress.

Fantastic Planet (La Planète Sauvage) is an animated, science fiction film that won an award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1973. I remember seeing it on TV sometime before 1977.  Thereafter, it ran periodically on the USA Network until the early 80s before completely disappearing.  It was directed and produced by René Laloux and Roland Topor. Based on the novel, Oms en série by Stefan Wul, it was recently translated into English & is available from the major online book retailers if you’re interested.

Trailer

The story focuses on Terr, a humanoid called an Om, who is kept as a pet by Tiva, a female Draag child. The Draags are an alien race that have blue skin, bulging red eyes, fan-like ears and are gargantuan in size. They spend much of their time in meditation, and, keep some Oms as domesticated pets while others run wild. Meanwhile, the Draag Council periodically debates as to whether to regularly exterminate the wild Oms to keep their numbers down.

As Terr matures, he gains knowledge of the world around him via Tiva’s headset that she uses for her school lessons. He becomes increasingly bored with his life as a pet and eventually escapes from his captivity. Once free, he encounters a community of savage Oms.  Initially, the wild Oms are suspicious of Terr and laugh at him as they consider domesticated Oms to be little more than buffoons for the Draags.

Because they are so tiny on a planet inhabited by giants and outlandish creatures, the Oms face many dangers.  But after killing a Draag in self-defense, the Draag Council decides to mass exterminate them once and for all. The savage Oms agree to take direction from Terr, and then proceed to educate themselves using the headset Terr dragged along with him when he escaped into the wild. They then build a spaceship to travel to the Fantastic Planet where they find and learn to exploit the Draags’ Achilles heel to barter for their continued survival as a species.

Touching on themes of cultural intolerance and mutually assured destruction, the film is at times bizarre and chock full of Bosch-like imagery that will stay with you for a long time.  This movie is definitely not for young children, but will be appreciated by connoisseurs of Sci Fi everywhere.

©2011 Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Peyton Farquhar™ and Prattle On, Boyo™ with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Master & Slave (Draags & Oms)