HOLLYWOOD BEAUTY: ELEANOR POWELL

One of the best dancers in Hollywood and one of the most beautiful was the underrated Eleanor Powell. Here are some photos from the past that show her everlasting beauty...

BING CROSBY: THE HOLLYWOOD YEARS - PART 11

REFLECTIONS: MAE CLARKE ON PUBLIC ENEMY

One of the most iconic film scenes is when Jimmy Cagney shoves the grapefruit in actress Mae Clarke's face in 1931's The Public Enemy. Here is a story about the famous scene in Mae's own words...

I didn’t want to do that, but all I had done to meet the new man and be at the new studio and work with Wellman was all out the window if I said no. I’d be a lemon. So I knew I had to do it. The only thing I could have done is get my agent on the phone and let him be the one to say no. But I couldn’t get to a phone. Jimmy [Cagney] was sitting right there and being very persuasive.

I said, “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll do it– once. I’ll trust you not to hurt me, and that’s all. Just for the guys. Okay.” So that’s what we did, and we did it just once. Didn’t hurt me. […]

After I left the studio I drove myself alone and held myself in. I got to my house and then I was no longer Mae the actress. Home meant Mother and Dad and my brother and sister. So home was very protective to me, and they all liked me a lot. mother opened the door and said, “Oh, good, I’ve got so-and-so for dinner.” And I said, “Mother,” and put my head on her shoulder and broke down crying. She said, “Why, darling, what’s the matter?” She patted me and said, “Oh, now, it can’t be that bad.” She was a great soother, which helped me to cry more.

I said, “Mother, something happened today that I will never, ever, get over. It will be part of my life from now on. It’s going to hurt all the time, and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted everybody to like me and I wanted to be a good sport and I wanted to work with Mr. Cagney again because awfully good. He’s going to be a great star; they all say so.”

I told her. And she, of course, knew exactly what to do. She told me: “That’s not the end of the world. You’ve had worse than that.” Without putting me down about it, she put it just in the right tempo to get me to stop crying and come on in and sit down and have a good meal and give me diversion.

Now my father was always in on things without my telling him. He was busy doing something, but he was listening. He just went quietly to the piano and played things like “A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody.” He consoled me through the piano, and I knew it. That was the way he talked to me. And I loved it. The things that always got me well were Daddy’s music and Mother’s soup. Those were surefire. People still ask me, “Do you think that scene, with all the longevity it’s had, has helped you or hurt you?” I think I’ll leave it to you and movie fans on what I think...

MY FATHER AND HIS 80TH BIRTHDAY

On February 5th, 2026, Francis Edward Lobosco (my father) would have celebrated his 80th birthday. Though his life was cut short in 1991 at the age of 44, his memory continues to live on in the hearts of those who knew him and in the communities of Shaler and Verona, Pennsylvania, where he spent his life.

Born in Verona on February 5, 1946, Francis was the only son of Francis L. Lobosco and Katherine Campbell. His father, a hardworking man from Allegheny County, passed away suddenly in 1969, and Francis carried forward the quiet strength and resilience that defined his family. He was raised in a household that valued tradition, faith, and perseverance—qualities that would shape his own approach to life.

He was a devoted son, especially to his mother Katherine, who outlived both her husband and son. He also became a father himself, leaving behind a son, David Lobosco and a daughter, Christina Swanson, who both continues to honor his legacy.

Though Francis’s life was not marked by public accolades or headlines, it was rich in the ways that matter most: family, community, and quiet integrity. He lived through a transformative era in American history—from the post-war boom to the cultural shifts of the 1960s and 70s—and remained grounded in the values instilled by his parents and extended family, including his aunts Anna and Sarah Lobosco.

His passing on January 31, 1991, due to heart failure, was a profound loss to those who knew him. Yet, even in death, Francis’s story is one of enduring connection. He was laid to rest in Mount Carmel Cemetery in Verona, the same resting place as his father—a symbol of the deep roots the Lobosco family planted in the region.

As we mark what would have been his 80th birthday, we remember Francis not just for the years he lived, but for the quiet impact he made. His life reminds us that legacy isn’t always loud—it’s often found in the everyday acts of love, loyalty, and presence...

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF TRIVIA

My daughter will be starring in a production of Fiddler On The Roof so I figured I would look up some trivia from the landmark musical and later movie. The decision to cast Chaim Topol, instead of Zero Mostel, as Tevye in the 1971 film verion of "Fiddler on the Roof" was a somewhat controversial one, as the role had originated with Mostel and he had made it famous. Years later, Jewison said he felt Mostel's larger-than-life personality, while fine on stage, would cause film audiences to see him as Mostel, rather than the character of Tevye. Before the 1971 film version, Topol had played Tevye in over 400 performances in London. Since the film's release, he has played the milkman over 2,000 times in places from United States and Canada, to Europe, Japan, and Australia.

"Anyone who ever plays Tevye should be thankful to Zero Mostel. He gave us all room and I know I wouldn't have done the movie without the advantage of a year's rehearsal on stage."

Director Norman Jewison: " One reason I liked Topol's performance so much on the stage was that he projected his sense of destiny as, and pride in being, a Jew. His Tevye never loses dignity and strength; he is a man who knows who he is and where he's going."

To make Topol look older, the makeup team clipped 15 white hairs from Jewison's beard and applied them to Topol's eye brows (seven on the left, eight on the right).

Topol was on active duty with the Israeli army when he was nominated for an Oscar for "Fiddler on the Roof" in early 1972. He was granted leave so he could attend the ceremony in Los Angeles that year...

FORGOTTEN ONES: EDDIE CANTOR

Eddie Cantor, born Isidore Itzkowitz in 1892, was one of the most influential entertainers of the early 20th century. Known for his expressive "Banjo Eyes," comedic timing, and musical hits like Makin’ Whoopee and If You Knew Susie, Cantor was a household name across vaudeville, Broadway, radio, and early television. Yet behind the cheerful persona and philanthropic efforts lay a more complex and sometimes controversial figure whose legacy is not without shadows.

Cantor was at the center of what is considered one of television’s earliest acts of censorship. In 1944, during a live broadcast, NBC abruptly cut the audio and shifted the camera away as Cantor performed a song with suggestive lyrics and a comedic dance. The network deemed the material potentially offensive, sparking a public dispute. Cantor, furious at the last-minute censorship, accused NBC of acting like “little Hitlers,” highlighting the tension between creative freedom and broadcast standards in the early days of television. 

This wasn’t the first time Cantor faced censorship. NBC admitted it had previously silenced him, though details remain vague. Cantor’s frustration reflected a broader struggle entertainers faced in balancing humor, innuendo, and public decency during a rapidly evolving media landscape.

Like many performers of his era, Cantor used blackface in his early vaudeville routines—a practice now widely condemned for its racist caricatures and dehumanizing portrayals. His character “Jefferson,” created in 1912, was part of a tradition that perpetuated harmful stereotypes. While Cantor later advocated for racial equality and supported Black performers like Sammy Davis Jr., his early career remains a troubling reminder of the entertainment industry’s complicity in systemic racism. 

Cantor was unusually outspoken for a celebrity of his time, especially regarding his Jewish identity and opposition to Nazism. In the late 1930s, he used his radio platform to denounce fascism and support Jewish refugees. This activism came at a cost—his sponsor canceled his show in 1939, a move widely interpreted as retaliation for his political stance. Cantor’s willingness to speak out, even when it jeopardized his career, marked him as a courageous but polarizing figure. 

Despite his success, Cantor wrestled with the limitations of his public persona. Typecast as a naive, effeminate character in films well into his forties, he sought to reshape his image as a serious and intelligent figure. His efforts to support Jewish causes and redefine his legacy often clashed with the comedic roles that had made him famous. 

Cantor’s immense popularity faded rapidly after his death in 1964. Though he was once one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood, today he is largely forgotten—a phenomenon some scholars attribute to his hybrid identity as both singer and comedian, which defied easy categorization. His contributions to entertainment and activism are undeniable, but his legacy remains complicated by the cultural norms of his time and the contradictions within his career...

RIP: CATHERINE O'HARA

Sadly, legendary funny lady Catherine O’Hara has died. The Canadian actress's manager confirmed to the media on Friday, Jan. 30, that the comedy icon, known for roles in films like Beetlejuice, Home Alone and Christopher Guest mockumentaries like Best in Show, died at age 71. No further details were shared.

O’Hara was born in Toronto in 1954. She was the second youngest of seven children; her father worked for the Canadian Pacific Railway, and her mother was a real estate agent. Her first acting gig was portraying the Virgin Mary in a Nativity play. After graduating from high school, she got a job as a waitress at the Second City Theater in Toronto.

“I was lucky enough to watch everybody,” she said in 2024 of the theater’s legendary talent, which included Dan Aykroyd, Joe Flaherty and family friend Gilda Radner. When she auditioned to become a member, Flaherty had some discouraging feedback.

“He said, ‘Keep up the good work. Your day job, I mean: waitressing,’” she told PEOPLE. She didn’t listen and landed a spot when she auditioned again.

She joined the company in 1974. One of her stagemates was comedian Eugene Levy, who would become one of her closest friends and collaborators. O’Hara told The New Yorker in 2019 that at first she was scared of being on stage.

“My crutch was, in improvs, when in doubt, play insane. Because you didn’t have to excuse anything that came out of your mouth. It didn’t have to make sense.”

In 1976, the theater began its own TV show, called Second City Television (and usually abbreviated as SCTV). O’Hara was a staple of the sketch program, which aired on NBC in the ‘80s. O’Hara became known not only for her impressions of celebrities, including Meryl Streep and Brooke Shields, but also for original characters that became fan favorites. O’Hara was content with SCTV, but the show did not provide her with a consistent paycheck. “Our producer would get a deal with a network, and we’d have a show for a season or two, and then that deal would go away. There’d be a break, then we’d do the show again,” she said.

During one break in 1981, “I got asked to be on Saturday Night Live. And of course I said yes. Who doesn’t want to do that?” But then SCTV was picked up again and she went back to her home — before she’d ever done a single episode of SNL. Her best friend from high school, Robin Duke, took her SNL slot. “It all worked out the way it was supposed to,” she reflected. As part of the SCTV writing staff, she received five Emmy nominations, winning once.

Her film debut was 1980’s Double Negative, which also featured Levy and other SCTV costars like Flaherty and John Candy. Next, she appeared in Martin Scorsese's 1985 black comedy After Hours and 1986’s Heartburn. In 1988, she had a role in Beetlejuice as Delia Deetz, the stepmother of Winona Ryder’s Lydia. O’Hara reprised her role in the 2024 sequel Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.

In 1990, she was cast in Home Alone as the harried mom of Macaulay Culkin’s Kevin. “It's a perfect movie, isn't it?” she reflected in 2024. “I need to care about the whole thing,” she said of how she chooses projects. “I don't care to do a great role in a bad project. You want to be part of something good, and that's how you go.” She reprised her role for 1992’s Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.

In 1996, she appeared in her first Guest mockumentary, Waiting for Guffman. She would also appear in 2000’s Best in Show and 2003’s A Mighty Wind, in which she and Levy sang together. She was called the actress the “gifted queen of the bittersweet” in a review of 2006’s For Your Consideration, another collaboration with Guest.

In 2015, she teamed up with Levy once again for Schitt’s Creek, created by his son Dan. It was not the first time she and Levy played characters who were romantically involved. Of their long working relationship, she told the media at the time, “I would love to think we continue to challenge each other, like a good married couple would do.”

In 2020, she won the Emmy for outstanding lead actress in a comedy series for the role. "I will forever be grateful to Eugene and Daniel Levy for the opportunity to play a woman of a certain age, my age, who gets to fully be herself,” she said in part during her speech. She also won a Golden Globe and a SAG Award for the series.

Other TV roles for O’Hara included guest spots on Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiasm and 30 Rock. She also received an Emmy nomination for her performance in the 2010 TV film Temple Grandin. She voiced characters in the animated films Frankenweenie, The Addams Family and Elemental, and in 2024, she appeared in the action film Argylle and season 2 of The Last of Us.

In 1992, she married Bo Welch. They met when he worked as a production designer on Beetlejuice. They shared sons Matthew and Luke. O’Hara is survived by them...

A STAR IS BORN: A FLAWED MASTERPIECE

George Cukor’s A Star Is Born (1954) is often hailed as a landmark in Hollywood musical drama, celebrated for Judy Garland’s powerhouse performance and its emotionally resonant narrative. Yet, despite its acclaim, the film is not without significant problems—both in its production history and in its final form. These issues have sparked debate among critics and cinephiles for decades.

Perhaps the most glaring issue with A Star Is Born is the infamous studio interference that led to the mutilation of Cukor’s original vision. The film was initially released at a running time of 182 minutes, but Warner Bros. quickly cut nearly 30 minutes after its premiere to allow for more daily screenings. These cuts were made without Cukor’s input and resulted in the loss of key character development and narrative cohesion. In 1983, a restoration effort attempted to reconstruct the original version using surviving footage and production stills, but the damage was already done. The missing scenes—especially those that deepened Norman Maine’s tragic arc—left the film feeling uneven and emotionally rushed in places.

 
While Judy Garland’s performance is rightly celebrated, the film’s portrayal of her character, Esther Blodgett, reflects problematic gender dynamics. Esther’s rise to fame is framed almost entirely through the lens of her relationship with Norman Maine, a fading star whose alcoholism and self-destruction dominate the narrative. Esther’s success is constantly overshadowed by her emotional labor in supporting Norman, culminating in a finale that reinforces the idea that a woman’s ultimate role is to sacrifice for the man she loves. This dynamic, while emotionally powerful, reinforces outdated tropes about women’s roles in both relationships and the entertainment industry.

Even in its restored form, A Star Is Born suffers from pacing issues. The first act is rich with musical numbers and character development, but the second half becomes increasingly melodramatic and rushed. The tonal shift from vibrant musical to somber tragedy is jarring, and the film struggles to maintain narrative momentum. This imbalance is partly due to the missing footage, but also reflects a structural flaw in the screenplay. The film devotes significant time to Esther’s rise, but Norman’s decline—arguably the emotional core of the story—feels compressed and underexplored.

Judy Garland’s performance is undeniably magnetic, but the film leans heavily on her real-life struggles to enhance its emotional impact. Her personal history with addiction and career setbacks mirrors Esther’s journey, blurring the line between performance and autobiography. While this adds a layer of poignancy, it also raises ethical questions about how much the film exploits Garland’s vulnerabilities for dramatic effect. The result is a performance that feels both transcendent and uncomfortably self-referential.

A Star Is Born (1954) remains a powerful and influential film, but its legacy is complicated by production woes, gendered storytelling, and structural flaws. It is a film of breathtaking highs and frustrating lows—a flawed masterpiece that continues to inspire admiration and critique in equal measure...

STAR FRIENDS: DICK VAN DYKE AND JULIE ANDREWS

The friendship between Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews began in 1964 on the set of Mary Poppins. Their friendship spans 61 years, beginning in 1964 on the set of “Mary Poppins.” Van Dyke arrived as the exuberant Bert. Andrews, making her film debut, stepped into Mary Poppins with poise and sharp focus. The set gave them more than a classic musical. It gave them a partnership built on trust and easy laughter.

Van Dyke has recalled how Andrews encouraged him through physically demanding choreography and long rehearsal days. Her notes were precise, never harsh, and she paired them with a smile or a quick aside to settle nerves. He thrived under that kindness. The penguin sequence became a private touchstone for them, a memory they could reference years later whenever one needed a spark of joy.
Once “Mary Poppins” soared, their schedules pulled in different directions. Andrews raced into “The Sound of Music” in 1965 and a run of acclaimed performances. Van Dyke toggled between film roles, stage work, and the rhythms of television that had already made him a household name through “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Amid premieres and press, they made time to exchange letters and calls. Each note sounded like a quick return to the London soundstage where their friendship began.

A backstage reunion in the late 1970s showed how little the core had changed. Van Dyke visited after an Andrews performance and found conversation flowing as if the orchestra were still tuning. They traded stories about choreographers and the mischief of corps dancers who tried to make them laugh mid take. Memory turned into fuel for new work, and good humor lifted the pressure that followed big successes.
Their bond adjusted to the realities of health and geography. Andrews has long kept a home in Switzerland, while Van Dyke’s base remained in California. They bridged the distance with video messages on birthdays, quick calls after premieres, and short notes when one spotted a magazine profile of the other. The ritual mattered. It kept their working shorthand alive in a quieter form.

Tributes became another thread. When Van Dyke received a major honor, Andrews recorded words that praised his energy and generosity on set. He later said hearing her voice brought him back to the moment they first tried lines together in London. When Andrews marked a milestone of her own, Van Dyke returned the kindness with a personal message that folded in gratitude, a bit of teasing about rehearsal habits, and a memory of them cracking up during a camera reset.

The late 1990s tested Andrews with significant vocal surgery. Van Dyke responded with reassurance that her gift went far beyond singing. He reminded her of the clarity she brought to scenes, the way she lifted colleagues, and the steadiness that anchored long shoots. That encouragement reflected what he valued most from 1964 onward. It was the same steady presence she had given him during rehearsals for tap-heavy numbers.

In recent years, celebrations have been smaller but no less heartfelt. Friends have mentioned calls where Van Dyke lights up the moment Andrews appears on screen. She asks about his dancing and balance work. He asks about her writing and the rhythms of her days. When awards broadcasts include archival clips from “Mary Poppins,” they often exchange a quick message noting the scene, the costuming detail, or the way a camera move still feels fresh.

The friendship also remains a study in complementary temperaments. Van Dyke brings buoyant optimism that reads instantly on his face. Andrews brings calm attention to detail that gives partners confidence. Together, they created a working environment that felt playful and safe, then protected that feeling across six decades with small acts of care. A note. A call. A two minute video that says I see you.
For admirers who met them through “Mary Poppins,” the most striking fact is the endurance. Sixty one years after that first rehearsal, the pair still value the same things they noticed on day one. He admired her discipline and kindness. She admired his spark and generous spirit. Time altered careers and routines, yet the friendship kept its simple architecture of encouragement and shared delight in the work...

MUSIC BREAK: BARNEY MARTIN - MISTER CELLOPHANE

Does anyone remember that Barney Martin introduced this song in the original production of Chicago in 1975? He was more famous for playing Jerry Seinfeld's father in the television comedy "Seinfeld". Barney was a great actor and does a great job on this song. It's one of my favorite songs from the production...

CELEBRITY DEATH CERTIFICATES: BIX BIEDERBECKE

Here is the death certificate of jazz great Bix Biederbecke who tragically died young on August 6, 1931 at the age of  28...

A MOMENT WITH MARTIN BALSAM

While starring on an episode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents," Alfred Hitchcock was so impressed by Martin Balsam's work that he offered him a key supporting role of Detective Milton Arbogast in "Psycho" (1960).

According to Hitchcock, a series of shots with Arbogast going up the stairs in the Bates house before he is stabbed were done by assistant director Hilton A. Green, working with storyboard artist Saul Bass' drawings only while Hitchcock was incapacitated with the common cold. However, upon viewing the dailies of the shots, Hitchcock was forced to scrap them. He claimed they were "no good" because they did not portray "an innocent person but a sinister man who was going up those stairs". Hitchcock later re-shot the scene, though a little of the cut footage made its way into the film. Filming the murder of Arbogast proved problematic owing to the overhead camera angle necessary to hide the film's twist. A camera track constructed on pulleys alongside the stairway together with a chairlike device had to be constructed and thoroughly tested over a period of weeks.

The shot of Arbogast falling backward down the stairs was a process shot of Balsam sitting stationary and waving his arms, as if losing his balance, in front of a screen projecting a previously filmed dolly shot moving down the stairs.

Balsam also performed the original voice of the HAL 9000 computer in "2001: A Space Odyssey". After his lines were recorded, director Stanley Kubrick decided "Marty just sounded a little bit too colloquially American," and hired Douglas Rain to perform the role for the released film...

FROM THE ARCHIVES: GENE KELLY & VERA-ELLEN

Gene Kelly's widow Patricia recently posted this telegram from Vera-Ellen to Gene. Such great memorabilia from March 28, 1949...

HISTORY OF A SONG: JUNE IN JANUARY

The year was 1934, and America was deep in the grip of winter—and the Great Depression. Yet, in the midst of cold winds and economic hardship, a melody drifted through radios and theaters that promised warmth and hope. It was called June in January, and it carried the magic of summer into the frostiest season.

The song was born on the silver screen in the Paramount film Here Is My Heart. Bing Crosby, already a rising star, crooned the tune with that effortless charm that made him a household name. Written by Ralph Rainger and Leo Robin, the lyrics painted a picture of a clouded moon and sighing winds, only to transform the bleak January night into a blossoming June—all because of love.

When Crosby recorded the song on November 9, 1934, with Georgie Stoll’s orchestra, it was an instant sensation. The record climbed to number one and stayed there for seven weeks, becoming Crosby’s biggest hit of the year. For listeners struggling through hard times, the song was more than music—it was a promise that warmth and beauty could bloom even in the coldest days.

Other artists quickly embraced the tune. Richard Himber’s orchestra recorded the first version, and soon Little Jack Little, Ted Fio Rito, and Guy Lombardo added their interpretations. Each brought a different shade to the melody, but Crosby’s version remained the definitive one—a voice that could melt snow.

As decades passed, June in January never faded. Jo Stafford, Julie London, Dean Martin, and even jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery gave it new life. Crosby himself revisited the song twice: once in 1954 for his musical autobiography and again in 1977 for his album Seasons, just months before his passing. It was as if he knew the song’s message was eternal.

Why does it endure? Perhaps because it speaks to something universal—the way love can turn winter into summer, darkness into light. Nearly a century later, June in January still plays on vintage playlists and in the hearts of those who believe in love’s transformative power.

So next time January feels too cold, let Bing Crosby’s voice remind you: somewhere in the music, it’s always June...

THE BOX OFFICE STARS: 1958

With more competition than ever from television, younger movies stars were appearing on the silver screen in 1958. Here are the top ten stars of that year...

1. Glenn Ford
2. Elizabeth Taylor
3. Jerry Lewis

4. Marlon Brando

5. Rock Hudson
6. William Holden
7. Brigitte Bardot
8. Yul Brynner
9. James Stewart
10. Frank Sinatra

RIP: SIDNEY KILBRICK

Sidney Kibrick, the second-to-last surviving child star from the Our Gang series of movie shorts, died January 2, according to friends. He was 97.

Born July 2, 1928, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Kibrick moved with his family to Los Angeles at age five. He was discovered at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where a film producer scouting children for the Our Gang comedies spotted him. Created by Hal Roach — who also produced films starring Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, and other comedians of that era — the Our Gang shorts (later syndicated on television as The Little Rascals) were produced from 1922 to 1944, spanning the transition from the silent era to early sound.

Kibrick’s earliest screen appearance was a brief, non-speaking role as an extra in the feature film Dead End. He made his uncredited film debut in Out All Night in 1933 and appeared in several additional uncredited roles before being cast as a regular in the Our Gang series in 1935.

Initially unnamed, his character was later identified as “Woim,” the sidekick to the neighborhood bully Butch, played by Tommy Bond. Kibrick appeared in 27 Our Gang shorts. At the time, the featured Our Gang players included George “Spanky” McFarland, Carl “Alfalfa” Switzer, Billie “Buckwheat” Thomas, Eugene “Porky” Lee, Darla Hood, and Darwood “Waldo” Kaye.

After leaving Our Gang, Kibrick made a handful of uncredited appearances in other films before retiring from acting. As an adult, he worked as a real estate developer.

Former child actor Peggy Lynch, who appeared in three Our Gang shorts, is now the last surviving cast member from the classic film series...

RECENTLY VIEWED: JOHN CANDY - I LIKE ME

Over the New Year holidays, I watched two documentaries on comedians. There was one on Chevy Chase, which I already reviewed, I just finished one on John Candy that is streaming on Amazon Prime. Those two documentaries could not have been more different. John Candy: I Like Me is a 2025 American documentary film directed by Colin Hanks and is a portrait of the Canadian actor John Candy. The documentary premiered on September 4, 2025, as the opening night film of the Toronto International Film Festival.

John Candy began his career on the sketch comedy series Second City Television before becoming one of the most popular and beloved stars of comedy films until his death of a heart attack in 1994. The film relies primarily on rare and never-before-seen archive footage, outtakes, private home video, audio commentary and interviews provided by friends and family. The world premiere of John Candy: I Like Me took place at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 4, 2025, at the Roy Thomson Hall, including a live Q&A session with the film's director, producer and Candy's children Jennifer and Christopher Candy after the screening. Canadian prime minister Mark Carney attended the premiere, spoke to the audience, and paid tribute to Candy. Earlier the same day, an official trailer was released by Amazon Prime Video.

While the Chevy Chase documentary only had a few of his peers, everyone seemed to appear in the John Candy documentary, and John was genuinely loved by everyone from family and friends to people he worked with. The documentary was touching and sad. John Candy was a wonderful person and it showed through. While the Chevy Chase documentary exposed Chase as mean and egotistical, this John Candy really showed what a great human being John was. The world not only lost a funny man when John died, but the world lost a great human being. I recommend this documentary 100%. Then go watch a John Candy movie and marvel in the genius he was...

MY RATING: 10 OF 10

NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS: HAL KEMP

Bandleader Hal Kemp died tragically on December 20, 1940, and here is a newspaper article from a couple weeks after that...

BING CROSBY: THE HOLLYWOOD YEARS: PART 15

RECENTLY VIEWED: I'M CHEVY CHASE AND YOU'RE NOT

I just watched the interesting documentary on comedican Chevy Chase. CNN’s new documentary focused on longtime Hollywood funny man Chevy Chase, has arrived with renewed attention on the comedian’s legacy and the long-running controversies that have followed him for decades.

Titled I’m Chevy Chase and You’re Not, the 97-minute film premiered Thursday, Jan. 1, 2026, at 8 p.m. ET/PT on CNN. From his Saturday Night Live beginnings to a string of classic comedies, Chevy Chase has always had huge comedic range. He is also a complex and contradictory human being. Featuring revealing interviews with those closest to him, this documentary digs into the talent, flaws, and humanity that shaped an icon. 

In the days leading up to its release, the film drew attention for revisiting an SNL-era dispute involving Terry Sweeney and for prompting a public statement from former Community co-star Yvette Nicole Brown.

The film is directed by Marina Zenovich, an Emmy-winning documentarian known for high-profile celebrity portraits, including Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired and Robin Williams: Come Inside My Mind. Zenovich’s approach typically blends first-person interviews with archival material and third-party accounts, and early descriptions suggest a similar structure here.

 I’m Chevy Chase and You’re Not features interviews with Chase, members of his family, and a range of colleagues who worked with him over the course of his decades-long career. The documentary traces Chase’s rise as one of the most recognizable comedy stars of the 1970s and 1980s, from Saturday Night Live and National Lampoon to major film successes like Caddyshack and National Lampoon’s Vacation.

The film also revisits Chase’s later career and the reputation he developed behind the scenes, including long-standing claims from former collaborators who have described him as difficult or confrontational to work with. Several of those accounts have circulated publicly for years, but the documentary places them alongside Chase’s own recollections and responses.

One of the most discussed segments of the film involves Terry Sweeney, who joined Saturday Night Live during the 1985–86 season as the show’s first openly gay cast member. The documentary revisits Sweeney’s account of an AIDS-related joke Chase allegedly proposed during that period. In the film, Zenovich recounts the incident to Chase, quoting from Live From New York: The Complete, Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live. According to Sweeney’s recollection, Chase suggested a sketch that mocked the AIDS epidemic and singled out Sweeney.

Chase disputes Sweeney’s version of events in the documentary and claims he does not remember the incident as described. In the film, he also makes an incorrect remark about Sweeney’s status, prompting Sweeney to respond publicly after the documentary’s details became known. Sweeney later told The Hollywood Reporter that he found Chase’s comments offensive and inaccurate.

The documentary has also prompted public reaction from Yvette Nicole Brown, Chase’s former Community co-star. Brown did not participate in the film, but addressed it directly on social media in the days leading up to its premiere.

In a statement posted on Threads and later shared on Instagram, Brown criticized unnamed individuals for speaking “for” or “about” her without consulting her directly. She emphasized that people claiming to have insight into her experiences were doing so without her consent or involvement, and asked that her name not be used in connection with the documentary.

Brown added that she would not be offering further comment on the situation and described the renewed discussion as “beneath” her. Her remarks followed reports that the documentary revisits Chase’s firing from Community, which stemmed from a series of on-set conflicts, including an incident involving racial language.

Although none of Chase’s Community co-stars appear in the documentary, the show figures prominently in the narrative. Director Jay Chandrasekhar, who worked on the series, appears in the film and recounts the events surrounding Chase’s departure. According to Chandrasekhar’s account, tensions escalated during a production dispute involving a scripted storyline that Chase reportedly objected to. The documentary includes recollections of the aftermath, including Chase’s reaction and how production leadership handled the situation. Chase has previously acknowledged being unhappy with his character’s trajectory on Community, and the documentary presents his perspective alongside those of other participants.

The documentary was not a tribute to Chevy Chase, and I am not sure what I think of him after watching it. There are some touching moments with his wife and children, but then some of his comments are just horrible. I don't like him more but I don't hate him more either. I wish the documentary would have dug deeper. It skimmed the surface of why people who have worked with Chevy hate him so much. The documentary was good but compared to other ones of celebrities, this one left me wanting more...

MY RATING: 7 OUT OF 10

A HOLLYWOOD HERO: JOHN C. MCGINLEY

John C. McGinley was known to millions as the fast-talking, sarcastic Dr. Perry Cox on Scrubs. But behind the scenes, his most profound role was not on a soundstage—it was at home, as a father.

When Max was born, John and his then-wife Lauren Lambert were expecting a healthy baby girl. But life had other plans. Max arrived with an extra 21st chromosome, a diagnosis of Down syndrome, and a host of medical challenges including heart issues and sleep apnea. John described the moment as being hit with a “cosmic hammer.” Everything changed.

John stepped back from acting, choosing instead to “circle the wagons” and focus on his son. The early years were tough—doctor visits, therapies, and sleepless nights. But slowly, Max began to thrive. He grew into a “lovely, stubborn, opinionated young man” who adored his sisters, Billie Grace and Kate.

Max’s biggest challenge was language. His sisters, profoundly verbal, became his bridge to the world. John made it a mission to empower all three children, ensuring Max was never a burden but a gift. The siblings embraced him fully, shaping their worldview around compassion and inclusion.

Max loved swings. Not just any swings—he craved the “juice” of vestibular stimulation, that exhilarating arc at the top of a swing’s motion. So John built him giant swings out of 25-foot telephone poles. “Ridiculous,” he laughed, “but they yielded dividends.” It was a metaphor for their life: unconventional, bold, and full of love.

Music became another outlet. Max plays rhythm guitar in a band called Spec Labs, composed of neurodiverse musicians. He once played with his back to the audience, but now he faces the crowd with pride. He also works at Starbucks, contributing to his community with joy and dignity.

 John didn’t stop at home. He became a fierce advocate for the Global Down Syndrome Foundation, helping raise awareness and push for research and policy change. He even influenced Scrubs to include a storyline featuring a patient with Down syndrome, bringing representation to the screen.

Every October, during Down Syndrome Awareness Month, John escorts models with Down syndrome down the runway at the “Be Beautiful, Be Yourself” fashion show. His advocacy is not just public—it’s personal, passionate, and persistent.

John once said, “I never wanted Max to be a burden to his sisters. I wanted them to be the instigators of activities done with their brother.” And they are. Together, they swing high, strum guitars, decorate Christmas trees with unbreakable ornaments, and live a life that defies expectations...