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David Lynch

Frank Booth Was Kurt Cobain's Real Grandpappy

RIP Dennis Hopper, 1936-2010

(This piece originally appeared in Providence Monthly’s July edition, albeit in an altered, shortened form.)

   In the long, ever strange history of Hollywood, Dennis Hopper shall stand fast as one of the most vivid flesh-and-blood parameters of an American industry turned inside out and eventually splintered and rendered all too soporific. Born in Dodge City, Kansas he was a pure-bred farm boy whose family eventually moved to San Diego in the late 1940s. He apprenticed at that city’s well-known Old Globe Theatre and became a very young contract player at Warner Brothers, building a budding career until a now apocryphal 1958 showdown with one of the then movie industry’s most macho despots, director Henry Hathaway, wherein the rebellious and cocksure young actor refused to give into Hathaway’s direction and faced him off in a widely viewed and reported public showdown that supposedly went on for some 80 takes, which resulted in a newfound status as a Tinseltown pariah.



There Will Be Blogs

It was a great year for cinema in 2007.

In order of preference, 2007's best movies were:

(Just click on the #'s)

#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#7

#8

#9

#10





HEY JUDE

Ssshhhh.  Keep it down. It’s the real deal. Come closer, and I’ll lay it on you.
Truth is, I’ve been sitting on this one for a long time, coupla decades or more, really. Yet, I know it’s a sure thing, just gotta get the timing right. I see it as surefire, just a matter of the right mini-moves. Of course, I need a partner, a money person with the right artistic vision, that’s why I’m finally coming clean, so we can scoop up the rights together. As far as I’m concerned the right partner could also help me dash off the screenplay, which oughta just about write itself. You see, it’s all there, no fat, no finery, no fakery; it’s all right there on the pages already. No doubt about it, David Helton’s 1969 burst of brilliance (originally published by Simon and Shuster), movingly entitled King Jude: A Rock N’ Roll Tragedy, is just poised and shimmering in the showbiz twilight zone, ready to fill in yet another essential link between sweaty rock muzak and head-scratching, eye-balling cinema, shading in the blanks between, say, Peter Watkins’s 1967 Privilege, Paul Schrader’s 1987 Light of Day, and Allison Ander’s 1996 Grace of My Heart.
King Jude David Helton paperback