Cranky Lesbian - Page 12 - Look what the homosexuals have done to me!

Gale Sondergaard has designs on Renne Jarrett in *The Cat Creature*.

Where to begin with all of the metaphorical lesbian double-entendre that director Curtis Harrington cheekily supplies in The Cat Creature (1973)? And how to explain that some of it was purely unintentional, as the openly gay Harrington had no way of knowing then that Meredith Baxter was not quite the woman that networks — and viewers — imagined her to be. (And then there’s the smaller matter of her hunky love interest, David Hedison, whose lookalike daughter Alexandra became one of Hollywood’s most visible A-list lesbians in a time when there were few.)

This pulpy tale, adapted by Psycho author Robert Bloch from his own material, is thin on story and long on atmosphere. It begins with appraiser Frank Lucas (Kent Smith) recording a voice memo for the attorney that hired him to inventory a wealthy and secretive dead man’s estate. “This place gives me the shivers,” he says of the darkened mansion before descending into its cellar, which contains a priceless collection of ancient artifacts. Prying open a sarcophagus, he finds a mummy wearing a striking gold amulet with emerald eyes.

Hanging Around in the Lost and Found

By Cranky Lesbian

On September 20, 2022

In Uncategorized

Do you recognize this commemorative Elvis Pez display? There’s someone who might see this one day and recall it was a gift from a beloved relative. I was told to toss it out several years ago, when he was still alive, but hesitated because of its sentimental value.

It’s still sealed, moved houses with me, and is dusted like clockwork every Monday. It’s kept far away from peanut butter and bananas for obvious reasons. Earlier this year I meant to bring it up if we got in touch and those plans went awry. Should you see this and decide you want it, track me down and I’ll get it to you or one of his other survivors if they’d like it. I’m posting this now in case Federer’s retirement spurs you to check in.

For everyone else, I’ll be back later this week with a special telefilm review inspired by a reader email and there’s still more Golden Girls and Charlie’s Angels on the way.

Federer’s Long Goodbye

By Cranky Lesbian

On September 15, 2022

In Tennis

Longtime readers know how I feel about Roger Federer. Newer readers know how I feel about Roger Federer. Alien life forms probably know how I feel about Roger Federer.

My phone buzzed this morning with a few messages from people wondering how I was “handling the news,” somber phrasing that initially alarmed me. Had someone died? Announced a terminal diagnosis? Fortunately, it was nothing that dire.

Federer had finally acknowledged what was widely suspected already, that he was retiring after next week’s Laver Cup. Months ago, when Federer posted a ‘delfie’ with his family’s newly adopted dog, I felt certain it was over. The player who famously traveled the globe with a wife and two young sets of twins was now comfortably settled at home. It was a logical progression.

Tricks of the Trade: Laverne & Squirrelly

By Cranky Lesbian

On September 7, 2022

In TV Movies

Markie Post and Cindy Williams stare nervously at criminals who aren't pictured. — Markie Post and Cindy Williams in *Tricks of the Trade*.

“They don’t teach Prostitution 101 at Vassar,” prim Beverly Hills housewife Cathy (Cindy Williams) huffs to streetwise hooker Marla (Markie Post) in Tricks of the Trade, a saucy 1988 telefilm. This very dated buddy comedy serves as her crash course. When stockbroker Donald (John Ritter), Cathy’s husband, is gunned down at Marla’s seedy apartment by a mystery assailant, the women are plunged into zany criminal intrigue — a milieu more comfortable to the lady of the evening than the staid suburban spouse.

They first spot each other at the police station, where there’s an obligatory scene of Marla snapping “Are you gonna charge me with something? Because if you’re not gonna charge me with something, I’m outta here.” But it’s not until Cathy’s therapist encourages her to get in touch with her anger that she finally knocks on the other woman’s door, interrupting a date with a kinky john to ask how long Donald was a client. “What is this, female bonding?” Marla asks, admitting it was a years-long arrangement.

Fear Stalk: Even the Title is Stupid

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 29, 2022

In TV Movies

Lynne Thigpen teaches Jill Clayburgh to shoot in *Fear Stalk*.

Fear Stalk (1989), an irredeemably awful telefilm as generic and stupid as its title, follows Alexandra ‘Ally’ Maynard (Jill Clayburgh), a soap opera producer known as “the blood and gore queen of daytime,” as she’s stalked by… a purse thief?! The gimmick here, explained by security expert and former Beverly Hills detective Barbara (Lynne Thigpen, in the film’s best performance), is that the contents of women’s purses make us uniquely vulnerable to bad actors. To demonstrate, she has volunteers empty their bags, which contain ID cards, checkbooks and insurance information.

“What does the average man carry with him?” she asks. “A wallet, driver’s license, a few credit cards. Men travel lighter than women. In essence they live more defensively. Not stuff. See, we love stuff. It makes us feel secure to carry everything with us. Then our purse is stolen. Then all that security, all that power, is in someone else’s hands.” These days, of course, the most sensitive details of our lives are often stored in the cloud. But Barb’s argument isn’t unduly persuasive even to those of us who remember the clunky, bottomless purses our mothers carried pre-smartphones.

Laughter is Contagious in Someone I Touched

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 23, 2022

In TV Movies

Cloris Leachman and James Olson have trust issues in *Someone I Touched*.

The 1970s were a complicated time for telefilm husbands, whether it was Robert Reed making obscene phone calls and assaulting his wife in The Secret Night Caller, or Patty Duke’s dipshit spouse justifying his serial infidelity in Before and After by telling her “You see, when you were fat, I felt betrayed.” And so you may feel a familiar sense of dread from the opening moments of Someone I Touched (1975), largely due to its opening ballad.

That treacly theme, warbled by Leachman herself, appears to lay it all out, allowing us to mentally prepare for the inevitable moment when a woman accepts at least partial blame for her husband’s transgressions. Here is but a sampling of its lyrical treasures, which begin normally enough: “Someone I touched/You’re someone I touched/And right away, I knew/I was in love with you.” Things get slightly weirder as we enter “Forget the others I touched/Those others I touched” territory, which includes a cold, abrupt reminder: “Yes, everything dies.”

The Golden Girls: “The Triangle” Episode Recap

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 19, 2022

In Friends of Dorothy Z.

“The Triangle” (S1E05) is the first Golden Girls entry in a fan-favorite sub-genre, that of the girls in competition (real or imagined) with each other. Across seven seasons we’re treated to many such episodes—including “Joust Between Friends,” “One for the Money,” “The Artist” and “The Actor,” to name a few—but “The Triangle” is where it begins, and it’s rather more vicious than playful.

Things kick off mildly enough, with Sophia announcing her intention to watch porn on a big-screen TV at a friend’s house. Dorothy tells her to stay put because a new doctor is on his way over. She’s been concerned by Sophia’s fatigue, elevated blood pressure and lack of color. “I’m an old white woman. I’m not supposed to have color,” Sophia gripes. “You want color? Talk to Lena Horne.”

Golden Girls Programming Note & Other Loose Ends

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 17, 2022

In Housekeeping

The next Golden Girls recap is long overdue and will be posted within the next day or two. Initially the delay was due to medical appointments, but then there was a technical issue pertaining to the Friends of Dorothy Z. page. That’s temporarily resolved for now but might require more fiddling in the future.

[UPDATE: Here’s the recap.]

While dealing with that situation, I did other behind-the-scenes tasks, including image optimization and finally redoing the screen caps on some older reviews. Ebbie, My First Love and Just Between Friends are among the pages that were fixed, all from a period where I had two computer failures in quick succession that left me without decent images for those films.

Shut Up and Deal

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 12, 2022

In Oh No!

I was high as a kite on morphine when Dan Quayle walked into the room during my strangest childhood hospitalization. It was a campaign stop in the waning weeks of the Vice President’s failed 1992 bid for reelection, and through some misfortune I’d been selected as one of the sick kids he’d visit. I wasn’t capable of having a coherent conversation then, but was vaguely aware of the nursing staff’s excitement and my parents’ pride at being photographed with him. My only specific memory of our encounter was that he drummed his fingers (boredly? anxiously?) on my bedside railing while awaiting the camera’s flash.

A package later arrived containing two copies of the photo, one autographed, and a tiny basketball bearing a stamp with his name on it (or was it his wife’s?). It fit perfectly atop the empty bottom-half of a pink Bubble Tape container, where it sat on my childhood desk until I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. There were other curiosities in my collection of hospital ephemera: the pillow I clutched to my stomach when I coughed and sneezed post-surgery; the “fun,” brightly colored breathing toy the respiratory therapist taught me to use. None annoyed me as much as the ball or ghoulish photo.

Heaven Must’ve Sent Lamont Dozier

By Cranky Lesbian

On August 9, 2022

In Obituaries

Click for Bonnie Pointer’s “Heaven Must Have Sent You” performance on YouTube (opens new tab).

I don’t write much about my Motown fanaticism, but my music library tells the tale. And much of that magic was supplied by the brilliant songwriting team known as “HDH,” Holland-Dozier-Holland. Dozier’s son announced his death on Instagram today.

If you’re a fan of The Four Tops in particular (I’ll resist making jokes, just this once), you’re a fan of HDH. If you love the Coen Brothers, you’re likely also an admirer of Dozier’s—it’s hard to imagine Blood Simple without “It’s the Same Old Song.”

Dozier published a book a few years ago, How Sweet It Is: A Songwriter’s Reflections on Music, Motown and the Mystery of the Muse. Super-fans who’ve not yet read it should head to the library today. His music is ours to love forever, no “guessing” about it.