#like i think he recognized something in jonas in 2021 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

popentertainmentmusic · 3 years

Photo

TINY TIM: KING FOR A DAY

Featuring Jonas Mekas, Richard Barone, Susan M. Khaury Wellman, Johnny Pineapple, Justin A. Martell, Eddie Rabin, Bernie Stein, Bobby Gonsalves, DA Pennebaker, Wavy Gravy, Harve Mann, Ron De Blasio, Tommy James, Richard Perry, Artie Butler, George Schlatter, Pat Barreat, Sherrye Weinstein, Rita Ritz, Tulip Stewart, Will Friedwald and archival footage of Herbert “Tiny Tim” Khaury.

Narrated by “Weird Al” Yankovic.

Written by Martin Daniel and Johan Von Sydow.

Directed by Johan Von Sydow.

Distributed by Juno Films. 75 minutes. Not Rated.

Tiny Tim is the type of strange-but-true eccentric talent that could only have really flourished in the 1960s. And not only flourish, for a white-hot period he became a cultural icon, mainly because he was so willfully different from anyone out there, so unrepentantly weird.

His comically falsetto ukulele version of the vaudeville-era chestnut “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” became a huge hit (and to this day is still considered something of a musical classic, if a rather odd one…) after Tiny Tim performed it on Laugh-In. His on-the-air marriage to his paramour “Miss Vicki” on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show was at the time the second most-watched event in television history. (It was second only to the moon landing.)

Yet novelty acts like Tiny Tim are notoriously short-lived, and as bright as his peculiar star burned for a short time (about two years), it burnt out nearly as quickly. Even though he eventually was not exactly a shock and the world moved on to newer, even weirder acts, Tiny Tim was so determinedly offbeat that he was never really forgotten and was able to continue performing – though on a much smaller scale (sometimes an embarrassingly small scale) – for almost 30 years.

As Wavy Gravy, the mainstay of the hippie scene and head of the Hog Farm collective says in this documentary on the singer’s short and strange life, Tiny Tim was the type of act that you either just got, or you just didn’t.

Tiny Tim: King for a Day opens with a clip of Tiny Tim (born Herbert Khaury) doing a duet with himself on Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe” in which he performs Cher’s lines in falsetto and Sonny’s lines in a normal singing voice. It’s an odd experience, and it also shows the juxtaposition of just being Tiny Tim, the two sides of his talent and his persona, an oddball split personality battling for superiority.

There was one thing that all sides of Tiny Tim agreed upon though. He craved the spotlight, to the point that it was almost an addiction. He even died on stage – the only place where he ever really felt comfortable – after disregarding his doctor’s orders that continuing performing would kill him.

He was so bracingly odd in the flower-power 60s that he became cool. After all, he stood out in a crowd, a very tall man named after a Dickens character with long, unkempt hair, a large nose and plaid outfits and neckties, playing Tin Pan Alley classics on a ukulele in a warbly falsetto.

Although his image was known for its edgy androgyny (at least edgy for the 1960s), while as a young man he questioned his sexuality, it appears that he was mostly very, very into girls. (And it seems, he was a tiny bit of a perv, though often more in thought than action.)

Even Tim recognized the falsetto vocals were odd. He called it his “sissy voice.” However, after several years of gaining no notice at all as a decent but unremarkable traditional vocalist, it was only when he changed things up radically – he says he was told by Jesus Christ to perform that way in a dream – that he gained attention in the dog-eat-dog world of show business.

Though he is mostly remembered for that voice – and it was his calling card – it belies the fact that not only did he have a quite decent baritone (as shown off on that “I Got You Babe” self-duet), but he also had an encyclopedic knowledge of music, and a great love of the music of 1890-1930.

Yeah, Tiny Tim was a bit of a joke character – and Herbert Khaury was in on the joke – but he was also a natural, a smart and talented showman. And yes, he was just a bit crazy, but he incorporated his eccentricity into his act.

Sadly, the world only tuned in and turned on to Tiny Tim for a short time. About a decade after his superstardom, he was broke, and living in his mother’s apartment in the Bronx – right where he started out. (Though it is not really explored in the film, Tim’s naivete led to him being swindled by his business managers.)

He took a series of oddball jobs – including being the ringmaster of a circus, doing oddball covers of more current hits like “Staying Alive” and “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy,” starring in a cheesy horror film, guesting on The Howard Stern Show and even as the host of a short-lived kids’ show called Tiny Tim & Friends that was a pretty blatant rip-off of PeeWee’s Playhouse. (Sadly, King for a Day does not share any footage of this oddball career turn, but it is available on YouTube). He even did an album called Rock which was a bunch of hair metal cover songs.

He kept going long after most people would have given up, and for smaller and smaller audiences. Tiny Tim was mostly famous for being shocking and strange. You can only do that for so long before the world catches up with you.

But as King for a Day reminds us, he sure as hell had a fascinating, conflicted life.

Jay S. Jacobs

#Tiny Tim #2021 #Music Reviews #Tiny Tim: King for a Day #Jay S. Jacobs

3 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 3 years

Text

March 11, 2021: The Seventh Seal (1957) (Part One)

Well, I did Cocteau this month already, so...time for another big boi director, I guess.

I’m sorry for me, too, because this one scares me a little more than Cocteau.

Ingmar Bergman. One of the greatest directors of all time, and the only prominent Swedish director that I’ve ever heard of. Also someone whom I’m DEFINITELY not qualified to judge, but here we are anyway.

Best known for Persona, Fanny and Alexander, and...one more movie, Bergman was an EXTREMELY prolific director, and far more influential on global film than you or I know. Seriously, dude influenced everyone from Martin Scorcese to Terry Jones to Peter Hewitt in one way or another. He’s passed away, as of 2007, at the age of 89. And speaking of Death...

There have been a LOT of incarnations of Death in media. Hell, we literally looked at one two movies ago, in Orpheus. You could argue that Ugetsu also revolved around death, but I’m talking about Death, the physical embodiment of the concept.

Now, the most common incarnation seen is the Grim Reaper (pictured above), but there are MANY other well-known versions. Here, have a few different versions, just for taste.

Yeah, that’s a lot. Kudos if you knew all of them! But that last one...I mentioned Peter Hewitt earlier. He directed Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, and in it, the two meet that films version of Death, a Swedish-accented ghoul. And if you’ve ever wondered about that, or about this joke from the opening song of Muppets: Most Wanted:

...Well, keep reading. Like I said, Bergman was influential, and perhaps NONE of his films was quite as influential as The Seventh Seal or Det sjunde ingelet. Welcome to a show about Death.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

ONCE AGAIN, The Criterion Collection logo brings us in, followed by the opening credits and music from that should accompany a Dark Souls boss, followed by a quote from Revelation 8:1-6, about the opening of the Seventh Seal. Roll credits?

Well, no. Instead, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, we meet a knight, resting there and praying to God, as his horses drink from the salt water. This is Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight who is resting here with his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). As Block takes out his chess set, he is joined by...

ALREADY?

Holy shit, I didn’t expect this scene to happen FOUR MINUTES IN??? Dear Lord, if this is happening now, what the hell is the rest of this movie? I am afraid of that answer now.

Anyway, yes, this is Death (Bengt Ekerot). And yeah, dude is indeed a CREEPY motherfucker. He’s been at Block’s side for a long time, but has now finally come for him, at last.

However, Block, ever clever knight that he is, capitalizes on rumors that he’s heard about the character, and challenges him to a game of chess. They start, with Block playing white and Death playing black.

But as they’re about to begin, we cut to Block and Jöns leaving the beach. Huh. OK then, I guess we’ll get back to that, huh? Jöns speaks of ill omens, and they see a pair of corpses, rotted after a long time dead. As their journey continues, we shift focus from them to a small group of actors in a caravan.

One of these actors - Jof (Nils Poppe) - sees a vision of a woman walking with her infant child, as angelic music plays in the background. He runs back to the caravan, where he wakes the sleeping Mia (Bibi Andersson), his wife. He tells her that this was the Virgin Mary and her baby boy, Jesus. Um...wow. Holy shit, my man.

Mia takes her husband’s vision as his active imagination, while he takes it as pure fact. Apparently, he’s very prone to having these kinds of visions. Mia warns him to tamp those visions down, or people will think him a fool. All of this rouses both fellow actor Jonas Skat (Erik Strandmark), and Jöns and Mia’s infant son Mikael (a cute chubby baby).

The troupe is on their way to Einsmore, performing for a group of priests. They will perform in a play about Death, once again making me think about Beetlejuice the Musical, which is really need to watch.

Block and Jöns arrive at a church, where real-world painter Albertus Pictor (Gunnar Olsson) is painting a Danse Macabre. Jöns asks why paint something so...well, macabre, and Pictor notes that it’s not a bad thing to remind people that they will die. This is especially as the Black Plague sweeps across Europe. YUP. IT’S THAT TIME PERIOD.

The two speak more on the absolute HORROR of the Bubonic Plague, a topic that clearly bothers Jöns. Meanwhile, Block goes to pray in a confessional, where he reveals that he doesn’t truly understand the point of prayer in this world. He’s clearly struggling with his faith, which must be HELL for a knight. And he delivers these confessions to his ever-present companion: Death.

Block wants God to speak to him directly, and questions whether or not God truly exists. He wants to do one last, meaningful thing before he meets his inevitable end. Block hasn’t yet realized that he’s speaking with Death, and openly talks about the chess game they began that morning. Death replies that they will continue their game in a nearby inn. This is how Block intends to prolong his own life.

He goes back out to meet Jöns, who’s still speaking with the painter, and the two leave the church. Directly outside, a woman is in the stocks, and is preparing to be burnt at the stake for learning carnal knowledge of Satan. She’s also being blamed for being the cause of the Black Plague itself. Just gotta say, big if true, goddamn. Black wants to know if she’s met the Devil himself, but she’s not quite all there.

Block and Jöns continue their journey, making their way from farmlands. Jöns goes into one of the barns in a village, where a dead body lies. He then hides as another man enters, and steals jewelry from the woman’s corpse. This is Raval (Bertil Anderberg), and he’s quickly caught in the act by a mute woman (Gunnel Lindblom).

However, before he can do anything to this poor girl, he’s stopped by Jöns, who recognizes him from the seminary, ten years prior. He tells him to shove off, and offers the mute woman a place as his housekeeper. And, uh...yeah, Jöns is kind of a dick, but more of a cad, y’know? He’s not likeable, but he also isn’t hateable.

In town, the actors’ troupe is performing, and the leader of the troupe - Skat - is seduced by a woman during the performance, and they have sex in the bushes behind the stage. As all of this is happening, the performance is interrupted by a group of flagellants, extremist priests that whip themselves and parade through the town, showing their extreme devotion to their faith. Fuckin’ yikes, this is a thing that ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And as these people, devoted in their faith and pain, march through the town, the townspeople are moved to tears by this act. And this act has real blood, sweat, and tears poured into it. The head priest of the parade then gives a fatalist sermon to the townsfolk, noting that death will come for them all with the plague, and berating them for their seeming ignorance of their fate.

And dude is MEAN. He mocks people’s appearance, and screams to all of them that they’re doomed, and will die painful deaths. Watching on is not only the actors’ troupe, but also Block, Jöns, and the mute girl (yeah, she never gets a name, goddamn it). The pain parade moves on, singing their solemn hymns all the way. And I’m not gonna lie...it’s intense. Especially knowing that this shit actually HAPPENED? Damn.

Once they pass, Jöns notes his disbelief at this display, never believing how far people will go, or the stories that they’ll tell. He’s interrupted by blacksmith Plog (Åke Fridell), who’s looking for his wife. Meanwhile, inside, a group of townspeople talk about the spreading plague, and wonder if this is the end times indeed. Plog comes in and asks Jof where his wife is. He also doesn’t know, but it’s revealed that this is the woman that Skat ran off with in the bushes. The conversation is joined by thief Raval, who outs Jof as an actor, and a friend of Skat.

Raval and Plog both threaten him for information on Skat and Lisa’s whereabouts, and humiliate him in front of the entire tavern. It’s actually quite hard to watch as well. This poor, poor guy, who seems like a nice enough dude, is essentally tortured for the transgressions of his asshole friend. But it’s interrupted by Jöns, who stops Raval in his tracks, and slashes his face, which he said he’d do if he ever saw him again.

Excellent spot for Part 2, I think! See you there!

6 notes · View notes