page 8
daily hebraskan
Wednesday, September 27, 1978
arts and entertainment
Bedstand nuisance interrupts bedroom delight
sleep
If I don't die in the next five minutes, I
will more than likely have to drag myself
out of bed, and pretend to be rational.
Rational is a poor word to use at this
point. If it is a typical morning, my head is
most likely propped up on two underfed
pillows, and I'm staring between my
extended toes at an object that appears
harmless enough from that distance.
Don't you believe it.
The critter is called an alarm clock, and
it's loaded. I know, because in a fit of mis
begotten fanaticism, I'm the one who
plugged the sucker in.
michael zangari
There is no getting around it. I was the
one who set it. I foolishly cling to an
ancient myth I once heard. It's known as
"a good nights' sleep."
The roots of this particular myth can be
traced to old Italian lore. The original
notion was rather nihilistic if it was a
good night, you would more than likely be
asleep. This has degenerated into the rather
silly notion that there is such a thing as
enough sleep.
Two actions
At five minutes to detonation, there are
two conceivable courses of action.
I could turn it off before the alarm goes
off, resulting in me going back to sleep and
missing my appointed rounds.
Or I could watch it in minute detail un
til it goes off, resulting in a massive coron
ary, and me missing my appointed rounds.
During this rather long and clouded de
bate, I am treated to the modern sound of
an alarm clock in heat. No bells at this turn
of the screw, folks. The modern alarm
clock buzzes. This rather cute euphemism
is outlined on the box when you buy the
clock-"waking up to a gentle buzz. " It
makes it sound like you are buying a
quarter gram of cocaine.
The 'gentle buzz' in this case turns out
to sound like urban renewal-an orchestrat
ed version of Godzilla destroying Tokyo.
Eating chiefs
My stomach usually responds in a
similar fashion, although it is more akin to
the sound Godzilla makes after he eats ths
Joint Chiefs or Staff to stop the military
efforts against him.
And the day begins the usual way.
There are other ways to get up. My MIA
roommate, (who evaporated shortly after
he graduated) had a clock radio that
mysteriously popped on about the time my
dreams were peaking. An eerie voice would
emerge from somewhere in the general area
of his night stand and urge me to go out
and get a runza. I didn't get out of bed,
but my dreams usually ended with me in
the tentacle grips of some vicious cole slaw.
I would open my mouth to scream, but all
that would come out would be Fleetwood
Mac.
The basic problem is that radio is better
than Sominex. And besides, as Fran
Lebowitz says in Metropolitan Life, "If I
wished to be awakened by Stevie Wonder, I
would sleep with Stevie Wonder."
Rude awakening
The most reliable method of getting up
is having mommy come in and in her own
sweet way, pouring a tea kettle of cold
water into one of several erogenous zones.
This is somewhat less than satisfactory
also.
When it all comes down, there are really
cnly two choices that make any kind of
sense at all. Either stop sleeping, or stop
getting up.
Sleep isn't what it once was. Since I've
purchased a waterbed for greater comfort
and better sleep, I have a whole new per
spective. IVe come to appreciate the phases of
the moon. The tides in the bed have
changed subtly, and as a result have
destroyed whatever sleep orientation I've
managed to retain after all these years.
Getting up is like mounting a major
amphibious assualt.
I think there is a happy medium that a
number of people have explored during
their college years and beyond. It is the
veritable art of getting up, but not waking
up.
Now more than ever, space is the final
frontier. Beam me up, Scottie.
New comedies may revive television's dying humor
By Pete Mason
Since the departure of such shows as
Mary Tyler Moore and Bob Newhart,
there has been a noticeable void in good
comedy on television.
There are those who would disagree
and point to gems the likes of Happy Days
(which has disintegrated in front of our
very eyes), Laveme and Shirley (one laugh
every 30 minutes), Welcome Back Kotter
(up your nose with a rubber Nielson
rating), Operation Petticoat (it sinks)
and of course, Three's Company (a bust).
tv review
If you're one of the pointers skip this
column. However, if you feel the comedy
crunch and want to broaden your humor
horizons, read on. Until now the only
bright ray in an otherwise dismal day has
been Barney Miller but hope springs eter
nal and two new shows may help fill the
void.
Some hope
WKRP in Cincinnati (CBS) has some
real possibilities. WKRP is a radio station
which plays music like "the Hallelujah
Chorus singing 'You're Having My Baby.' "
That is, until the station hires a new pro
gram director (played by Gary Sandy) to
try to raise the revenues of the sinking
station. He starts by changing the format
to Top 40, to the chagrin of Carlson, the
station manager (Gordon Jump) and his
over-bearing mother (Sylvia Sydney).
When it is explained to them that there
are big bucks in rock V roll, they swallow
their esthetic pride and give the go-ahead.
Howard Hesseman plays Dr. Johnny
Fever. For all practical purposes it's
Hesseman 's Show. Hesseman, one of the
original members of the San Francisco
based improvisational comedy troupe, The
Committee, and one-time Bob Newhart
patient, is exceptionally funny in the role.
Worldly DJ
Johnny Fever, alias Johnny Midnight,
J.J. Jefferson and half a dozen other
handles, is a former big name disc jockey
from Los Angeles who saw his career go
down the tubes for saying "booger" on the
air. He's become so world-weary that he
continually forgets what city he's working
in. He spends most of his time sleeping
at the board, somehow magically awaken
ing in time to do commercials for such
enterprises as Shady Lane Manor.
"Do you ever lie awake at night,
wondering what's going to happen to you
when you can no longer feed yourself?"
When Johnny is informed of the format
change, he is transformed into the raving
maniac a rock jock is supposed to be.
"Well, that's it for the elevator music.
Wake up Cincinnati, this is Dr. Johnny
Fever and I'm going to fry your brains.
Booger . . . booger . . . booger!"
The rest of the cast of WKRP is
equally nutty. It includes the obligatory
blonde receptionist (Lord Anderson), a
greedy, back-biting advertising man (Frank
Bonner), a paranoic milquetoast of a
sportsc aster (Richard Sanders) who sees
communist conspiracies in the men's room,
and a black rock jock with the unlikely
name of Venus Flytrap (Tim Reid).
The other new comedy offering which
stands a chance to stay on the air longer
than 1 6 weeks is Taxi (ABC). Most of the
action in Taxi takes place in the company's
dispatch room where cabbies wait for their
cabs and assignments. The room is ruled
by a dispatcher with a heart as big as
Atilla the Hun's who sits behind his cage
like a little king. "Don't they ever feed you
in there?" one cabbie asks.
Jud Hirsch plays Alex, the only real
cab driver in a room full of writers, boxers,
actors and other dreamers who are driving
cabs only until their big break.
Hirsch is supposed to be the star of the
show but that honor may be stolen by
Andy Kaufman, a delightful lunatic who
often appears on Saturday Night Live.
Kaufman plays Latka, a mechanic of
mysterious foreign origin who babbles in
an equally mysterious tongue. Occasionally
he breaks into English, particularly when
there are women around .
In the first episode Latka walks up to
Elaine (Marilu Henner), the token female
cabbie, sits down beside her and puts his
head on her shoulder, his face lighting up
like a deranged, over-sexed cherub.
"Bed?" he asks.
"No bed," she replies.
Continued on Page 9
Film-maker will be at Sheldon
The Films of Dusan Makavejev begin the
Film-makers Showcase series at Sheldon
Film Theater. Screenings of five of his
films will be today through Saturday.
Mr. Makavejev is making a special trip
from Yogoslavia to appear in person at the
evening screenings Sept. 28, 29, and 30.
Born in Yugoslavia in 1932, Makavejev
was raised first on Hollywood films, and
then after the rise of Tito, on the cinema
of socialist realism.
Man is Not A Bird, to be shown tonight
at 7, and Thursday at 10:30 ajn., takes
place in a mining town in eastern Serbia.
The characters are an engineer in one of
the factories, a young hairdresser with
whom he has an affair, the daughter of the
people who run the engineer's boarding
house, and a truck driver with whom she
has an affair.
Innocence Unprotected will be shown
Thursday at 3 and 7:30 p.m. In this earlier
film, Makavejev created a provocative and
original collage which combined the first
Serbian sound film every made, with Nazi
newsreels and 1968 interviews of partici
pants in the original production.
Love Affair, or The Case of the Missing
Switchboard Operator, can be seen tonight
at 9 pjn., and Friday at 10:30 a.m.
The 1967 production has been
compared to his other films because there
are overtones of death that endow the love
story with extremes of severity and exu
berance. Banned in Yugoslavia, hailed at internat
ional film festivals, WR: Mysteries of the
Organism, can be seen at Sheldon Friday at
3 and 9 p.m.
Another highly controversial film of
Makavejev's is Sweet Movie, to be screened
Saturday at 3 and 7:30 p.m.
"If one is not open-minded about sex,
they should not see these films, they are
very explicit," according to Sheldon Film
I he;tt-i hire, tor Dan Idely.
