My movie year (so far)

Fever Pitch (1985), starring Ryan O'Neal, written and directed by Richard Brooks.

O'Neal plays a reporter writing about a pathetic loser who's gambled away everything-- himself-- and the movie is a laugh-out-loud mashup of sermonizing, sleaze, and a senile geezer's idea of what the '80s were all about. Brooks, a writer first and director second, made a great movie-- In Cold Blood-- and several really good ones, but at the end, his ear for dialogue went completely deaf. The weird, diverse cast includes actors who were in on the joke (i.e., the movie), like William Smith's ultra-cruel hit man and ultra-suave Giancarlo Giannini, and those whose performances boil down to, "Gee, Mr. Brooks, I'm acting as hard as I can!" In the latter group is, of course, O'Neal and poor Catherine Hicks, who has some of the movie's worst dialogue-- like this. Note the turgid pseudo-jazz, courtesy of Thomas Dolby.

(If that snippet made you want more, here's a touching scene involving a father and son.)

Fever Pitch isn't a good movie, but it's fun in a way good movies never are, and I loved every stinking minute of it. How much? I think it's worthy of The Oscar!

Time Table (1956), starring and directed by Mark Stevens. Proving that great actors are born that way, here's Jack Klugman giving a Quincy-level performance in his screen debut. In fact, other than having thinner hair when he was younger, he's exactly the same, every inflection and hand gesture bringing to mind Oscar Madison at his twitchiest. This crooked-cop noir by minor '40s film star Mark Stevens also features Alan Reed, Jr. (aka Fred Flintstone) and John "Godfather" Marley as a Tijuana lowlife named Bobby who runs a "high-class wetback game."