Search Results
8/3/2025, 12:10:43 AM
I choose growing the fuck up.
>I have been offered a movie which I may accept, if they come up with proper money. London and North Africa, starting in mid March. Science fiction, which gives me pause, but is to be directed by Paul (sic) Lucas, who did American Graffiti (1973). Big part. Fairy-tale rubbish, but could be interesting perhaps.
>New rubbish dialogue reaches me every other day on wadges of pink paper, and none of it makes my character clear or even bearable. I just think, thankfully, of the lovely bread, which will help me keep going until next April. I must off to studio and work with a dwarf (very sweet, and he has to wash in a bidet) and your fellow countrymen Mark Hamill and Tennyson (that can't be right) Ford. Ellison (? - No!), well, a rangy, languid young man who is probably intelligent and amusing. But Oh, God, God, they make me feel ninety, and treat me as if I was one hundred six.
>I shrivel inside each time it is mentioned. 20 years ago, it had a freshness, a sense of moral good and fun. Then I began to be uneasy at the influence it might be having. The bad penny first dropped in San Francisco when a sweet-faced boy of twelve told me proudly he had seen Star Wars over a hundred times. His elegant mother nodded with approval. Looking into the boys eyes I thought I detected little star-shells of madness beginning to form and I guess that one day they would explode. 'I would love for you to do something for me,' I said. "Anything! Anything!' the boy said rapturously. 'You won't like what I'm going to ask you to do.' I said. 'Anything, sir, anything!' 'Well,' I said, 'do you think you could promise never to see Star Wars again?' He bursts into tears. His mother drew herself up to an immense height. 'What a dreadful thing to say to a child!' she barked, and dragged the poor kid away. Maybe she was right but I just hope the lad, now in his thirties, is not living in a fantasy world of secondhand, childish banalities.
>I have been offered a movie which I may accept, if they come up with proper money. London and North Africa, starting in mid March. Science fiction, which gives me pause, but is to be directed by Paul (sic) Lucas, who did American Graffiti (1973). Big part. Fairy-tale rubbish, but could be interesting perhaps.
>New rubbish dialogue reaches me every other day on wadges of pink paper, and none of it makes my character clear or even bearable. I just think, thankfully, of the lovely bread, which will help me keep going until next April. I must off to studio and work with a dwarf (very sweet, and he has to wash in a bidet) and your fellow countrymen Mark Hamill and Tennyson (that can't be right) Ford. Ellison (? - No!), well, a rangy, languid young man who is probably intelligent and amusing. But Oh, God, God, they make me feel ninety, and treat me as if I was one hundred six.
>I shrivel inside each time it is mentioned. 20 years ago, it had a freshness, a sense of moral good and fun. Then I began to be uneasy at the influence it might be having. The bad penny first dropped in San Francisco when a sweet-faced boy of twelve told me proudly he had seen Star Wars over a hundred times. His elegant mother nodded with approval. Looking into the boys eyes I thought I detected little star-shells of madness beginning to form and I guess that one day they would explode. 'I would love for you to do something for me,' I said. "Anything! Anything!' the boy said rapturously. 'You won't like what I'm going to ask you to do.' I said. 'Anything, sir, anything!' 'Well,' I said, 'do you think you could promise never to see Star Wars again?' He bursts into tears. His mother drew herself up to an immense height. 'What a dreadful thing to say to a child!' she barked, and dragged the poor kid away. Maybe she was right but I just hope the lad, now in his thirties, is not living in a fantasy world of secondhand, childish banalities.
Page 1