Namedropalooza
With the deaths over the weekend of both Dennis Hopper and Gary Coleman, people have, for some reason, been asking me whether I’ll be ‘covering off’ the pair in this week’s column. Due to my years in commercial radio, many assumed that I would have met at least one of them but, sadly, neither ever dropped by the station to be asked, ‘where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?’ while trying to spruik a book or movie.
Somehow, I have never seen an episode of Coleman’s most famous work, the appallingly spelled Diff’rent Strokes, and am more familiar with the various cast members’ post-show arrest records, and the YouTube clip that, through application of a new soundtrack, makes the show’s opening titles seem newly disturbing. On the other hand, the name Dennis Hopper conjures up many great and hilarious memories; his VB-assisted blather on the Mad Dog Morgan ‘making of’, where he refers to his new Australian friends the ‘Aboriginaries’; his lost years in the seventies when he could often be found performing the notorious ‘Russian Suicide Death Chair’ in the desert for tourists; and his greatest film performance, as Frank Booth in Blue Velvet. In a typical Oscars travesty, that year he wasn’t even nominated for this unforgettable role, but was for his work in the long-forgotten Hoosiers.
But while I have no personal anecdotes concerning either of these Hollywood ‘bad boys’, I have attempted to compensate by trawling my memory for any other encounters with American celebrities. Let the pissweak name-dropping begin!
Herve Villechaize: In the late eighties, the tiny star of Fantasy Island showed up at EONfm to plug his appearance as ‘guest DJ’ at Melbourne’s Chevron nightspot. During our brief chat, he described himself, with supreme confidence, as a ‘ladies man’. This was confirmed by the station’s receptionist, who reported hearing the familiar voice of ‘Tattoo’ saying to her, ‘You are a very beautiful woman.’ But when she looked up from her typewriter, there was, seemingly, no one there.
Marty Krofft: From Sid & Marty Krofft Productions, the creators of H R Pufnstuf, The Banana Splits, The Bugaloos, Far Out Space Nuts and various other clearly drug-fuelled productions for children. Krofft wore a white suit, had thick silver hair and sported a plutonium tan. His fingers and neck were encrusted with jewellery and he was handing his business card to anyone who passed. ‘You guys are gold!’ he kept booming to Mick Molloy and myself, before we’d even said a word. ‘Everyone is gold in Marty’s world,’ his assistant later said, confirming that he had no idea who we were. ‘You’re gold!’ he said to our receptionist on his way out of the building. ‘Here’s my card.’
Billy Zane: The Titanic villain was in town to promote his underwhelming version of The Phantom, but all I wanted to talk about was Twin Peaks. He described what it was like joining the show five episodes before it was axed. ‘It was a major exodus; I was going upstream, everyone else was catching the next bus out of “the Peaks” and I’m like “Hey, guys! How’s it going? Which way to the Diner?”’ The talk turned a tad frostier when we suggested that The Phantom would have been a lot more successful in Australia if it had been retitled Purpledurps.
Sydney Pollack: He had just released his atrocious remake of Sabrina and was speaking to us by phone from Rome. Amazingly, he didn’t hang up when I suggested he was there to ‘bugger up Roman Holiday’. Years later, I was in New York’s Soho and rounded a corner to find an armada of film crew trucks that stretched across two full city blocks. It was a location shoot for the Nicole Kidman film The Interpreter and at least 200 people were bustling around, barking orders and swinging lights. Sitting over to one side, on a step, all alone, with his head in his hands, was Pollack, the film’s director. He looked like a man who knew he was presiding over a massive pile of shit. I started to approach him, but was immediately tackled by a PA. ‘Leave him alone,’ she said. ‘Just leave him alone.’
Burt Ward: Robin from TV’s Batman. As hypercaffeinated as he appeared on the show, Ward described life on the set as a non-stop orgy, and claimed that he and Adam West had once given Yvonne ‘Batgirl’ Craig something called a ‘Bat Sandwich’. I didn’t ask him to elaborate.
George Lucas: After being asked to leave New York’s famous department store Barney’s for being ‘underdressed’, I exited via the revolving door just as the Star Wars creator (himself horribly dressed, as always, in chambray shirt and baseball cap) was entering. His two enormous black bodyguards attempted to squeeze into the ‘segment’ behind him and the entire structure became jammed, unable to revolve for approximately ten seconds. While the muscle attempted to extricate themselves, I looked across at Lucas facing me through the glass, and was unable to resist mouthing to him the phrase ‘Use the Force’. He didn’t laugh. Phantom Menace had just come out.
John Tesh: Does anyone now remember the much-reviled Entertainment Tonight co-host and ‘musician’? I found him surprisingly funny, especially when he pointed out that whenever they came back from the ads with the sad version of the ET theme, you knew someone famous must have died. ‘Oh no, it’s not Lucy, is it?!!!’ he mugged, to hilarious effect.
I’m guessing the sad version of the ET theme will be getting a fair run this week.
Tony Martin is the Melbourne-based author of ‘A Nest of Occasionals’ and ‘Lolly Scramble’. Podcasts of his radio show ‘Get This’ are still available for free download at iTunes (type in: ‘Get This: Richard Marsland Lives’). Most recently, he directed new episodes of ‘The Librarians’, which returns to ABC1 on October 13.
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