Just in case you missed the first time . . .
- 31 December: Here’s to the New Year
- 24 December: ‘Tis the night before Christmas
- 20 December: From Macy’s to Dickens on the plains
- 12 December: Eden rocked
- 9 December: The aftermath, continued . . .
- 8 December: Immediate aftermath
- 7 December: The date still lives in infamy
- 5 December: The mean widdle man-kid
- 21 November: Freed fall
- 20 November: A twin triumph for Lurene Tuttle
We’re building a history here . . .
Category Archives: drama/dramatic anthology
Bob Burns only sounds like an Arkansas bumpkin, normally. Though he was born and raised in the Natural State, Burns (born Robin Burns) actually has a college education and an early life that includes serving as a civil engineer and a member of the U.S. Marine Corps’ early jazz band as a trombonist. In due course, he would become a farmer, carpenter, fisherman, toymaker, sailor, gunsmith, and even amateur astronomer.
In short, Burns is a kind of renaissance man of remarkable sanity and balance. And it was a very good thing, too, considering how long it took him to establish himself as an entertainer.
Anne Shirley must have every eye of the studio audience and the crew upon her more intently than they’d be trained upon a Lux Radio Theater performance without the backstory hers carries. She’s standing in for one of the most spectacular crackups in Hollywood’s none-too-unspoiled or unsoiled history.
By now the original lead actress in Come and Get It has left Hollywood for the first time, partially in pursuit of stage work, and partially out of frustration that she can’t get roles that don’t call upon more than just her arresting looks. And Frances Farmer—whose turn in the original Come and Get It should have made her a bona fide star—can’t and won’t convince people that shunning glamour off set means anything but trouble.
Fibber McGee & Molly has been remarkably effective in putting over wartime issue stories other comedies often stumble to deliver, largely because the first couple of 79 Wistful Vista and their master writer Don Quinn avoid lapses into blatant propaganda. And, with the full consent and support of their sponsor.
Academy Award was only slightly deceptive as the title of this short-lived dramatic anthology. The hook was that at least one of each week’s players, or the film itself that was condensed for the radio performance, had either won or was nominated for an Oscar. Somehow, merely having been nominated didn’t seem quite enough for such a ballyhooing series name.