European Journal
North Carolina School of the Arts
Movie:
Page 5
INTRODUCTION:
I am not a writer. But a few
people have asked about the
places I saw and what happened
to me while I wandered around
Europe with a pack on my back
and very little money. I kept a
journal (who doesn’t?) which
became increasingly difficult and
boring to keep up. After cen
soring over half of it (of course), I
have decided to print part of the
rest to give you a vague idea as to
what my days were like. I was
thinking of rewriting it to make it
more interesting for other people,
but found I could not. The ex
periences are past, and now I am
sitting in America, eating three
square meals a day. I am not
even able to comment on what
my mind ej^ressed two months
ago when being nourished by one
meal a day. There are some parts
that are incoherent, and some
that are boring. Please
remember it was not written for
other people. But stumble
through it, and maybe it will
encourage you to tear up your
schedule, Idck the walb that
shelter you from the elements,
and get the hell out and see the
world. If you get possessed - do
go! And talk to me, or Lee
Hawley, or someone else that’s
gone, but don’t, don’t go out and
buy Arthur Frommer’s Europe
on $5 a Day!
Amsterdam
Sept. 20, 1971
Was sitting desolately on the
steps of the National Monument
at Dam Square at the appointed
time -12 noon. Looked at all the
strange, unfamiliar faces
swimming in the streets below
and seriously doubted if Bev and
Wright would come. It seemed
impossible that after all the long
days I could see someone I knew.
Was preparing my plans if they
didn’t show, and then crossing
the street I saw them - first
Wrist’s head bopping along on
top ^ the crowd, and Uien behind
him my sister - my own bloody
sister, all the way out in Am
sterdam. Could not believe it.
Jumped up and frantically waved
my arms. Their mouths dropped
and they came laughing towards
me. There we were in the midst of
noisy, chaotic Dam Square all of
us in complete amazement. Took
them to the Rijkesmuseum - felt
more at home this time. Love the
“Night Watch.” Also found
anottier room of period costumes,
shoes, and jewelry, and rooms
gorgeously furnished - mostly
1700’s. Have moved into the
hostel here. After three nights
sneaking into Den Behoulden
Snally got caught at one in the
morning as they ran out of beds.
Girl who found me was very nice
and let me sleep on the floor.
Thank goodness I had that guy’s
gorgeous sleeping bag. Am really
getting worried about money.
Have only $30 left. Went into
Wimpy’s yesterday and got a
meal and left without paying.
Felt great! Went into a bar today
and asked for free water and the
guy at the bar treated me to a
beer and a sandwich. Have
discovered going to bars is the
best way to get free drinks, food,
and cigarettes. Finally have
enough courage to walk into any
bar. Have gotten to like it. Did all
my laundry. Such a wonder to
gaze on clean jeans. We’re going
to see the red-light district
toni^t. Ought to get some good
references for acting.
Sept. 26, 1971
Priem, Germany
Things happen so quickly. Here
we are in Germany already. To
backtrack - the next day Bev and
Wright and I rented bikes and
rode through Amsterdam to a
park. Riding bikes in the city was
hell. I don’t know how all those
old people do it. Almost got run
over. It was great riding Siough.
Felt like I’d been living in Am
sterdam for years. That night we
went to the red-light district. The
girls sit in the windows with their
red light on and the bed in the
back. They didn’t seem very
aggressive. Some even seemed
shy - maybe they were just worn
out after the summer. Many of
them were very pretty and
young. What a street! Red lights
gleaming on the dark, still
waters; tiie smell of the canals
pushing into the narrow, erotic
alleys; rough shouts..murky
whispers.... Wednesday Bev and
Wri^t decided to hitch with me
to Heidelberg. Met early that
morning by the bridge and
finished off our bread and jam.
As we were eating a woman came
by and gave us her bag of sand
wiches. They had meat in
them...what a way to start the
day! Got to the highway and lined
up in back of alMut eight other
people. Wright, who has never
hitched before, wanted to know if
I though we’d get picked up. Had
Mentioned that he thought
American wives wore out their
husbands and the men got lines
sooner. Said he found it was
happening with him. He was
working and working all the time
and had problems at home, and
suddenly he stopped his work and
said, “For what?” - so he started
taking vacations and enjoying
himself and his family. He said
there was a certain point where
one must say, “this is enough -
now I must enjoy”, because there
is only so much one can absorb at
a time. He had boundless energy
and had been disciplined like a
German soldier. Bev and I tried
to listen intelligently but the wine
was really something so we let
Wright do all the talking. After
the wine he took us to a little
restaurant and treated us to a
huge meal. We each had a half of
T. R. Baskin
i
t
t
to laugh. The three of us with our
packs looked like an army. But
we were in no hurry. Spent about
two hours there. Guy ahead of us
gave us a bottle of chocolate
nulk. How good it tasted. Finally
hid Wright in some bushes and
Bev and I hitched. A Mercedes-
Benz breezes up and Wright hops
out on cue and gathers up our ton
of packs. The man was very nice
and German. Had just seen Anne
Frank’s house before we left. It
had made such a deep impression
that I couldn’t help wondering if
the man was a^^amed to be
German. He let us off by the
German border. Our next ride
was a youngish German who
ended up staying with us for two
days. He was so insistent on
stowing us the beautiful parts of
his Germany. Drove us down
along the Rhine. TTie sun was
setting and it was beautiful old
towers and castles outlined
against the dark blue sky. The
little villages huddled into the
sides of the hills among the
vineyards were fascinating. It
was wine festival time, and all
the villages were celebrating.
Our German friend stopped in
one and took us in search of a
party. We wound ourway through
a narrow street and found a bam
where the farmer had put out a
sign saying his wine was ready
and everyone was welcome to
taste the first batch. The open,
gaily lit bam was filled with
^ump German women, their
faces red and laughing. Ihey
were sitting in a circle with their
arms linked, swaying side to side
with a tall glass of wine in their
hands, singing at the top of their
lungs. They had tied napkins in
(heir hair, and the en^ were
sticking straight out. We sat
down and joined them, and were
soon swaying and singing along
with them. It was all so jovial and
German. The wine was great but
we had had nothing to eat all day.
Our German host started telling
us about himself. He’s a doctor,
and doing research work.
a pig on our plates. It was really
delicious but I was so high 1 had
to concentrate more on getting
the pig to my mouth without
jabbing my face with the fork.
And then this man ordered more
wine! All white, and he wouldn’t
let us leave the table until we had
drunk it all. Finally got up and we
wandered through the crowded
little festive streets - Bev and I
holding on to Wright so we
wouldn’t fall down. Bright lights
and dancing and German songs
all over the place. Left around ten
and drove to Heidleberg. Couldn’t
find a place to sleep so we all
ended up on the 12th Hoor of a
student hotel, in the ping-pong
room. Had to sleep on fije floor -
not very comfortable. Our
German host had a doctor’s
convention to go to the next
morning, but he didn’t seem to
mind the floor. I think he enjoyed
the whole thing. Got up early the
next morning and he decided not
to go. “It’s enou^ work. Time to
enjoy. Come!” And with that he
drove us to a count’s palace in
Schwetzingen, a little town near
Heidelberg. The palace was
magnMcent - a pink mansion
done in baroque style. In back
were the ganlens and the or
chards. All the gods were there •
huge white marble statues
peering out from the trees,
lounging on grassy knolls, or
strolling through flowered water
lilies, ^at a place to have a
dance concert. We wandered on
through the grounds and came
upon a pavUlion with Apollo
under the arched roof, a circle of
sphinx guarding him with shoots
(rf water coming out of their
mouths. Nearby was the bath
house, done in pink marble with
walls made of gorgeous stones,
and gold and marble cherubs
flying across the gilded ceiling
and perching on top of twirled
pillars. What luxury! In the af
ternoon our friend left us (“This
meeting I must attend”) and we
went to see the schloss or castle
on top of the cliff. Tremendous
view. Quite a feeling of power.
T. R. BASKIN with Candice Bergen
Peter Boyle & a cast of extras and smallparts
(Voice of obnoxious disc-jockey type announcer)
Hey, it’s time to play FORGOTTEN FILMS! (Fade up on music)
Can you name the name of the film released in 1971 (that wonderful
year!) about a small-town girl who runs away to the big city to find
fame, fortune, and herself?! ?
Contestant: (nasal voice) Well, er, uh, well let’s see, there’s so
many. . .
Ann: Well, if you can within the next ten seconds you’ll win...
Contestant: Well now let’s see. You say it’s about a small town girl
run off to the big city to find fame & fortune...hmmm...kind of a unique
plot...isn’t it....uh....
Ann: Need a hint? Hungry? Want something cold and good?
Contestant: what?
Ann: maybe some ice cream??
Contestant: Ice cream? OH! A HINT!! I GET IT!!
Ann: And where do you buy ice cream? HMMMMMM???
Contestant: uh, uh, uh, the uh, ice cream store the uh...
Ann: Time’s RUNNING OUT....5...4...3..
Contestant: I GOT IT!!! I GOT IT!! THE MAGNIFICENT OB
SESSION!! !! THE UFE STORY OF HOWARD JOHNSON!!! MAN
OF A THOUSAND FLAVORS!
Ann: sorry.
Contestant: THE STRAWBERRY STATEMENT!?! CLOCKWORK
ORANGE SHERBET?!?!
Ann: WRONG! the clue was Baskin, BASKIN-ROBBINS ICE
CREAM, get it!?!
Contestant. S—t.
Ann: And the name of the film? Why T.R. Baskin of course.
(fade out on music)
Candice laughs insanely and cries gut-tugging sobs in this new
vehicle featuring none other than good ole Peter Boyle, playing his
thing to the hilt as the SALESMAN FROM UTTICA! Yes, the gamut of
emotions is run to the hilt by T.R. Baskin, who leaves Findley, or
Friendly, or something that just reeks of good ole “small-town U.S.A.”
and moves to no, not New York this time, but CHICAGO! (fade up on
music “Chicago, Chicago...) Where the taxi driver bilks her, the
crowd pushes her around, the landlord overcharges her, the guy jilts
her, the parents don’t understand, the job doesn’t care, and ttie sues
are not cloudy all day.
Now, seriously, WE ALL KNOW that them there misteerious people
behind the scenes are only just USING this hackneyed old plot to say
something fresh and exciti^, RIGHT?! They want us to concentrate
on the PEOPLE, THE FEELINGS, THE ACTING, the SCENERY,
AND what a modem, technological city can DO to a person, RIGHT?!
They only USE this plot so the new, fresh angle will show up that much
more stark and real RIGHT!!!!!?????!!!!! well, yes. that’s
right, that’s what they’re doing.
Moving along to the acting now. I mean, MAN! This is a part! T.R.
Baskin is a moving sidewalk to an Academy Award (all right, but it
still means something to SOMEBODY...I think...) If just the right
actress gets just the right emotion at just the precise moment; like
when she talks to the elevator; or when she says “You’re a shmuck.”
Or any one of a hundred little nuances. Overlook the fact the whole
parts the now cliche “wise-cracking individualist vs. uptight world” of
recent films. At least the part’s BIG! It has a lot of LINES!!! You’re
ON STAGE a lot!! You get a great TELEPHONE SEQUENCE Uke in
“Sterile Cuckoo!” A great part! No?
That’s right. No. There is nothing fresh or inventive about this part
or about the situation, or the way Candice Bergen plays it. The “funny
lines” fall slowly (like from a cow) and it’s just NERVE-WRACKING
and slightly embarrassing to see spiffy Candice (whom I liked in
“Getting Straight”) unable to pull it off. Instead, she puts it on, and
I’m out there in the audience clenching my fist (and within it, Her-
sheys) and screaming (mostly to myself) GO CANDICE! GO! pick it
up!! It’s good, but God, it could be ADEQUATE! It’s all right, it’s
working here and there, but SO AM I to earn the money I paid to see
you!! NOW COME ON, GOD DAMN IT!! At which point I was asked to
step into the theatre manager’s office, where two burly Norwegians
sacked my Troy, so to speak. Anyway, scratching Father’s Day off the
calendar I resumed my seat only to find, yes, you guessed it, “Joe! ” A
little less radical this time playing “Mr. Middle America.” In all
fairness, the scene where he describes his dreams of retirement is
probably the best in the movie. That’s fair? Ah well. Also the dialogue
throughout this part is quite good.
MY GOD! nobody TOUCHED in this movie. Energy was definitely
there, they came so close at times, and that’s what makes it all the
worse. If it missed altogether I wouldn’t be writing this review (that’s
silly, of course I would, it’s my Journalism final). But, as in the
aforementioned scene, it DID HIT THE MARK at times. Phooey.
Just a passing thought, but Candice Bergen does funny things with
her face, kind of twitchy, spaz things. The things that when you look in
your lap your wrist is bent and you’re tugging your index finger
slightly, and your body is moving from side to side. Weird things like
that. Icky.
Back to the movie, and CHICAGO! The REAL VILUAN of the film!
Why modem technology and automation are to blame for the social
unrest, violence, and disorder in our ever moving, fast paced, finely
honed lives. And I promise if I am elected...blah, blah, blech.
Look. I’ll spell it out. I-T- 0-U-T. T.R. Baskin isn’t a bad movie. T.R.
Baskin isn’t a good movie. It is in limbo, where a LOT of movies are.
It’s all right, but to me, that’s bad. And finally, is it worth two fifty? All
I can say is it would depend on how much you have in your pocket at
the time. For, when you think about it, everything in life costs two fifty
nowadays, since inflation brought it up from a buck. John Coggeshall
Met our friend for dinner - the
last good meal we would have for
a long time - and then he drove us
to Nuremberg, his home town.
Got there that night, and said
good-bye to our friend. What luck
it had been to run into him. He
left us off at the hostel, which was
located in an old castle at the top
of a steep hill. We trudged up,
exhausted. Next day went into
the town. There’s a huge ancient
church in the center of town, with
one of those old clocks on the
tower. At noon twelve princes
come out and bow to the King
sitting on his throne, while other
little figures beat a gong. Tlie
whole thing took about five
minutes. In front of the church is
the market place. There were
stalls and stalls of vegetables and
fruit and china. It was like a
colorful auction-everyone calling
out and bumping into each other,
and the fruit glistening in the
sun. The women farmers selling
their goods were incredible. Most
of them were rather old and
bowed, but like old tree trunks
that get sturdier as they grow
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