Tonight we honor one of the finest directors of the 20th Century, the late, great Stanley Kubrick. As President of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences I want to give a warm Hollywood welcome to our keynote speaker this evening, Father John Murphy, who just flew in from the Vatican. Father Murphy knew Stanley for over 35 years, up until and including Stanley's untimely death in 1999. I'm sure he has a treasure trove of information to tell us. Without further ado, would you kindly welcome the Pope's right hand man, the Keeper of the Keys, and the dizzy Dean of the College of Cardinals, Father John Murphy.
Ya, ya, thought you'd take all day der gabbin. Ya wanna get me a couple of dose special brownies ya all been chowing down for da past hour or so. Hey, kid, put it on a plate, not a fuckin napkin, ya raised in a barn? Yeah, dat's it. OK, listen up.
A quick introduction to Stanley Kubrick
I'm not gonna tell ya about da Stanley Kubrick ya think ya knows, but da real guy. I met him when I was an extra in "Lolita", dat flick where the old guy falls for a young broad but da old bat mother likes him. Then he has to marry da bat in order ta get ta da daughter. Age old story. Well, Kubrick and the kid got it on at least twice a day, mostly in her trailer but sometimes on da set.
Naw naw, hey, don't leave. Stop dose guys, O'Malley. I told youse I was gonna tells ya bout da real guy, da one who dressed da hookers up in dem space suits, banging 'em in slow motion up against dat monolith. But ya all knew Stanley, he was a brainiac, gotta give em dat. He directed bout a dozen jawdroppers dat all ya jamokes seen at least twice. Except for Pauly Shore sitting dere, IQ of a pineapple.
What the scholars say
First I'm gonna learn ya what da scholars at wicca paedia have ta say about Stanley. Just ta give Pauly Shore an introduction to a subject he knows nuttin about.
Da wiccans dey say dat Kubrick chose his subjects with scrupulouse care. They say dat he worked slow - like some kind of snail - and dat he enjoyed making all kinds of films. Science fiction, horror, period pieces, mysteries of da mind, antiwar rants, Stanley just made up whatever he wanted to when he wanted to. Nice gig. Then the wikipedes take a wild guess dat he was a technical perfectionism, and complain dat Kubrick was reclusive and seldom talked about his films until you got him drunk. Da wise intellecstools dere seem to think dat Stanley always maintained complete and proper artistic control over his masterpieces. Sorta like if Pabble Picasso could afford a movie camera.
And then da esteemed professors go on to bitch dat Stan's films have a formal style and pay lots of attention ta detail. Dey think dat his later stuff is surrealistic and lacks structured linear narrative - whatever da hell dat means - and dat his movies are soooooo slow because he was diseased with some kind of anal obsessive perfectionism. Dey think Stan used recurring themes as a way to argue about man's inhumility to man. Got dat right. While dey are often described as opionated stories doused in ironic flucking pessimism, da eggheads imagine dat Stanley's films contain a cautious optimism when viewed like dey watch 'em.
Got dat Pauly?
Stanley's first good film and his last good film were his best films. "Lolita" and "Eyes Tight Shut". Hey, have ya guys ever seen "Lolita" with a couple of dese brownies in ya? Show of hands. Scorsese, ya, Coppala, and over dere, Ya, see, see dat? Dat's one hell of a movie. Once ya get past da first dull half hour or so James Mason comes up on Lolita in a bikini and from then on, except for another dull half hour, Mason shows his acting range - the range of a bored middle aged man living a boring life when all'a' sudden WHAM!!!!! he falls in total lust with a fourteen- or fifteen-year old boy or girl, depending on which director's cut you own, and da kid is game!
Den right in da middle of dat shitstorm ya get Peter Sellers thrown at ya like a circus clown playing several different characters at once, and all da other actors in the film except for Shelly Winters who's dead by dat time carry each scene into da next in ways Kubrick shot like he was Da Vinci paintin' da inside of dat church. One of da best movies ever made, except for most of it, and 'specially if ya on dose brownies.
Well, lets move up and down da years here.
The good times remembered
One time da church had me go to check out rumors dat Kubrick was gonna make a hippie movie, and dey didn't want none a dat. But when I got dere Stanley wasn't doin' a hippie movie at all, he was filming dis god-awful slow moving boring ting called 2001. Even scene on dat film seemed to take a year to shoot, with Kubrick digging deep using spacetime to play in an all, and den having to come back to film it.
Anyway, one night Stanley was co-making-up da screenplay for 2001 with dat Arthur Clarke brainiac. See, Stan made da mistake of hiring dis fellow Clarke, who thought he was da pope's shit, just a floating egghead filled with space visions and communicational satellites and whatnot. Did you know dat da two of dem faked up da moon landings? Truth, sweat to god, I was dere, and when Neil Armstrong was supposed to be walkin' on da moon he had two hippie babes, Wildflower and Sunshine, off-stage getting ready to blow him.
Walkin' on da moon! Ya gonna break me up here. Never happened, sweat to God
Well, Clarke and Stanley, dey was hunched over a desk writin' down da scene where dat loony tune talking computer whacks some guys. I happened to be walkin' by, minding my own selves and da churches business, when Stanley calls me over. "Fadda, how does a computer whack a guy?" he asked. "Jesus Christ, Stan," I say, "I dunno. Ya know dat question's like dat cut off da oxygen to my brain." And dats what dey did. Made me think dey should have given me a taste.
So after Stan and I hung around on dat Lolita set, and on Lolita tell ya da God's honest truth - I seez ya laughin' O'Malley, been dere done dat - we started palling around off set too. Dat was in 1962, jeez, time flies on dose gossamer wings, don't it. Ya, I see Woody Allen out dere flinching. Hey Woody, whatsa matter, ya worried 'bout dyin? Look at him, rolled up in da fetal position. Boo!!! Heh heh heh, it's too easy. Well, where was I? Yeah, '62, before ya could say "Do unto udders" Stan started callin' me his "lucky charm" and made me come to all his shoots. Later, when I got to be an uppity-up in da holy mudder church, him knowin' me and vica verso came in handy when my boys policed da sets and handled stray union trouble with da locals.
So then dere came "Dr. Stangelove, or how blah blah blah love da bomb". Dis was dat hippie movie where da American government and military look like a bunch of fag horses on a crippled merry-go-round. Where was I goin with dat? Ah, da brownies must be startin ta kick in, ain't dey O'Malley. Time slowin down an shit. Like watching one of his movies.
Yeah, dat was fun, especially tryin' to get Peter Sellers to break character, which he wouldn't do for his own mudda. When he was a gimp in a wheelchair I'd grab his legs and pull, and he'd fall all over da floor and it took him forever to crawl back up. And when he started in on acting like a president I'd cover him with fish entrails and call dem blessed. Drove Sellers crazy, tryin' to keep up with my hyginxks and watch out da corner of his eye, seein if I was sneakin' up on him. Never broke character though, give him dat.
Da show itself discusses man's inhumanity to man, as if dat ever stopped anyone. My contribution was da final scene, when Slim Pickens jumps outta da plane ridin' an atomic bomb like a bucking bronco. He wagged his cowboy hat around, back and forth like, like he was on a bull or oxen, one of dose. Dat came 'bout when Stanley said to me "What the hell, Fadda, how am I gonna end dis thing?" and I gives him da scene right down to da swingin' hat. He loved it, dey filmed it, and dat's what most people remember about da film. Could have given me some of dat writer's credit, but ya think dey did? Fuctards.
Ya, ya, I can see Woody Allen shakin' his head up and down and smilin'. Now ya like me, huh Wood man? Play dat clarinet or trumpet or whatever it is ya blow with ya sometime.
Ya, I missed most of Stanley's next picture, spendin' most of my time learnin' da ropes at da Vatigan. It felt like burning da midnight oil at ten a.m. During dat time Stan did a fag pic called "Barry Lyndon", 'bout nothin' in particular except dis guy dresses up and prances around. I dunno what it's about, 'n' if I did I probably couldn't tell ya anyways without getting excommunicated. Ha! Ya like dat O' Malley? Bust a gut.
So da next time I showed up Stanley was filming "Da Shinin'" up in a vacant motel in Colorado. I bunked with Nicholsen da whole picture, guy snores kinda like he talks, all smiley and sinister and dat kill-ya-quick-as-look-at-ya. He got buggier as da picture went on.
Gonna tell ya somethin' an dis will scare ya, so hold on ta somethin'. Ya, Pitt, funny, holdin' onto Portman. Angie's in da john, isn't she wise ass? Anyways, we was all alone, see, in dis giant motel, da crew and da actors and dem. Suddenly for no apparent reason da lights went out and noises like skirts rustlin' were heard. Scotsman Crouthers and I were playin' drinkin' games in dat ballroom were all da ghosts live, an we both saw a bottle move. Maybe half an inch. It just edged over like it was travelin' on tiny ghost wheels, like it had a railroad track under it in dere. Scotsman jumped a foot, funniest thing I've ever seen except for Woody dere, again with da fetal position.
Dat was Da Shining.
Shut Da Eyes
Stanley went on to make tings like Full Metta Jacket and other anti-war hogwash. I refused ta help him with anymore of dose propaganda films, da Church's stand of "send as many of dem to heaven as ya can" trumping my friendship dere.
The last film I made with Stanley was da last film he made, "Eyes Wide Shut", a name dat doesn't mean anything starring dat couple who was always fighting about scientaloogy and such, dat midget and da tall lady. Anyways, Stanley made da movie for one purpose and one purpose only, to score Leelee Sobieski. Man, dat little girl reminded him of Lolita so much he'd launch his pants just thinkin' 'bout her. No, it's true! I hear da murmering out dere. And hey, Sobieski, don't even think of leaving. All Iz sayin' is dat all da myths wanted ya to believe Stan loved da book, or dat he wanted ta tell a metaphoric story about how all long time married couples have inner dreams of divorce from both dere boring spouse and dere structured lives, and dat it took him years to film and edit because he wanted to get it down ta da perfection and all dat. Dey waz all just smoke-screens holdin a mirror. He just wanted to boff Sobieski.
And he did dat. Alot. Jeez, ya know dose masks in da film? They must have worn every one of dem with each other - hey, isn't dat right Leelee? Did I get da scorecard right? I dunno hear no denials dere. Anywaz, da film also reported like a damn newspaper about how da upper elites like ta go at it in front of each other with da tall beautiful ladies. Hollywoods people too. Humpin like bunnies with mystic ceremonies all thrown in for da brain stretching, and wearin dose inner-self masks ta put ya at ease and stir up da mystery gene. See, Kubrick just wanted to tell da truth, and knew dat by doing dat Leelee would look at him like a daddy and jump some rope. It was a hard movie ta make because Kurbrick ordered the cast around like a concentration camp cook demanding "More livers!" An' dat midget and his lady picked around thru der emotions pretty well and fought like jackals sometimes. But yeah, Sobrieski provided all da tension, playing da sexually active 16-year old living in da costume shop who turns da midget on.
Lots of people liked dat movie. Problem is, Stanley died, right after finishing editing "Da Wide Eyes". Last I saw him we waz putting him in da ground. Lolita and Leelee were dere, all teary eyed and moanin' "boo hoo hoo", bless dere hearts. Artie Clarke came all da way from Shree Lankya to bid Stanley adieu.
Don't know why I'm tellin ya dis, must be da brownies talkin, but not many people other than da enforcers over at da U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops - oh, and O'Malley dere - know dat da next film Stanley was gonna make was a script I wrote inspired by da holy spirit. It was called Da Troublemakers and was bout dose blabbermouth choirboys and altar ornaments who led da priests onto da primrose path visa via dose seductions. I'd never seen Stanley more excited than when he and da polish papa took a meeting to finalize da deal. Stanley wanted to name it Roma's Pretty Boy Lolitas but Papa John Paul told him "No, no, no, no, weze decided on da name." Would have won all dose shiny statues of Little Oscar youse guys hand over to da best of dis and da best of dat, tells ya now so youse could tink about it. But when Stanley decided to die da project got shelved along with him.
OK, I'll take questions on the other side of dis bathroom break, gotta pee like Secretariat opening up 31 lengths.
Questions and answers
Alright, shoot. Wait, wait O'Malley, holster it, justa figure of speech. Okay, youse, da Munich hausfrau in the big dress.
Good evening Father, Meryl Streep here. Can you give us some insight as to why Stanley Kramer would arc each of his thirteen individual movies, and of his body of work as a whole, along the clean lines of apes misusing the tools of power and biological attraction intertwined with the concept of authority, of males looking for bottom-feeder true love, and of entire classes of people hiding what they are doing from other people? As you implied, some of that is symbolized in "Eyes Wide Shut" by Leelee Siobeski, who drives the film with her calculated arousal of Tom Cruise. Mr. Cruise, who is gay as a rose bush in real life, is bewildered at Siobeski's age, energy, and the metaphor that she lives within the costume shop and can thus see through the costumes of others. Cruise then leaves her to follow his compulsion to explore the mystery of the occult mansion and its deeper multi-layered significance.
I don't get why ya think Siobeski is a sex symbol, or dat other stuff. And Stanley don't need da likes of you tellin him which side of da bread is buttered on, missy. He buttered both sides of his bread, and all around da edges too. Ah, next, you, the guy in the red cape.
You don't recognize your old roommate, Murphy? Jack. Jack Nicholson. Jeez, you've been eating too many communion wafers judging by the size of that gut. Anyway, what's all this I hear about Kubrick's movies being too slow? When I ran around throwing my talent all over the place in The Shining it was anything but slow, except at the end when I froze to death, which only slowed me down for a minute or so.
Nicky, I didn't recognize you from the old obese corpse-like persona standing before me dere. Ya, Stanley filmed his movies like da people watching them had nuttin else better to do with their timing. An are ya kidding me? 2001 is so slow it looks like it was made in space. And Da Shining ya so gaga-eyes over, it goes on and on about nuttin and then nobody ever understood it even when it's finally over - something about living in da past, but it lost me while dey was driving up da road to get dere.
Alright, you, in the yellow jump suit.
Father Murphy, blessings to you. I'm Hank, and I work on the construction going on outside and I just happened to wander in here on my break. But listen, I didn't hear you talk about Kubrick's "A Clockwork Orange," maybe his most disturbing but supremely psychologically engrossing film. Did you have anything to do with the picture? Thank you.
Dat one was just goofy. It was 'bout a gang of jollywompers dressed to da nines in orange when dey'd come up and stomp bums to death. Da whole time dey got accompanied by classical music. What Stanley did was try ta break da violence barrier with dat one, to peel back da brain of a psychopath and show a deranged animal inside, but it got England's youth in such a lather dat he pulled da picture dere and wouldn't allow it to be shown until after he died and even den he didn't like it. I talked Stanley into letting it run in da rest of da world, "Give da devil his due" I told him, and he did dat. Alright, you, da skin and bones hanging off ya dere.
My weight is the result of my being a nun of the Abstainian Order, which allows us a slice of bread a day. Due to this I am not long for this earth. But in the time I have left there's one movie I want to see, Spartacus, and would like your unholy, ah, holy take on it.
Jesus, sister, chow down a chicken or something. You're as retarded as my last blow job - the kid thought I said crow job and covered himself in black feathers, jumped up and down, and made me throw corn at him. But ya, Spartacus, dat was Kirk Douglas prancing around pretending he was a slave and then getting other slaves to revolt. Unrealistic fluff, in real life da boys would have mowed dem down and hung dere heads on pikes leading into the city. Have ya seen Kirk Douglas lately? It looks like his head is already hung on a pike, and he's still moving around under it.
O'Malley, dese brownies are makin' me see double, or dat may just be the Olson twins. Grab my coat, we're outta here.
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