alt.obituaries Memorial Deadpool
Paul Mazursky was a great filmmaker.
When he wasn’t awful. But his great films made you forget his awful films. At
least, they did for me. As far as I’m concerned, Next Stop Greenwich Village is
a masterpiece. (“If you see Clark Gable, tell him I always loved him.”) An
Unmarried Woman was a perfect film, except for the whole letting Alan Bates go
off by himself thing. (Maybe his wife and daughters were out of town the week
that part of the screenplay was written.) And who could forget survivor Lena Olin
salivating over boiled beef in Enemies, a Love Story? The truth is, he was an
important filmmaker who made a lot of his films at a very terrible time, the
'70s, for making films in America. Then again, he made The Pickle, and that was
in 1993. We went to the movies to see it, along with a bunch of Russians, there
to cheer on someone who had a brief walk-on. I seem to recall that, at the time—and
it’s hard to imagine this has changed—it set a record for the lowest opening
for a major studio release. Even with the Russians and us in attendance.
Richard and I once figured out that
since we’ve been together, we’ve seen more than 3000 films together in
theaters. We always looked forward to a new Mazursky. Even after The Pickle.
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