Dedications: My four late friends Rory, Stan, Bryan, Jeff - shine on you crazy diamonds, they would have blogged too. Then theres Garry from Brisbane, Franco in Milan, Mike now in S.F. / my '60s-'80s gang: Ned & Joseph in Ireland; in England: Frank, Des, Guy, Clive, Joe & Joe, Ian, Ivan, Nick, David, Les, Stewart, the 3 Michaels / Catriona, Sally, Monica, Jean, Ella, Anne, Candie / and now: Daryl in N.Y., Jerry, John, Colin, Martin and Donal.
Thursday, 24 September 2015
Jackie Collins (1937-2015), aged 77. The rather sudden death of novelist Jackie has come as rather a surprise - she was on British television only 2 weeks previously cheerfully plugging her latest bonkbuster and, as usual, giving good interview. Jackie was a witty, erudite, popular novelist who tapped into what her readers wanted and gave it to them in spades. It seems her 32 novels sold over 500 million copies. Although she had stage 4 cancer for over 6 years she kept her illness to herself until the end. Right: she and sister Joan back in their 1980s "lucky bitches" personas capturing all that 80s glitz and ersatz glamour.
Franco Interlenghi (1931-2015), aged 83. Maybe not as well known as the Delons or Sorels, Interlenghi was an essential European actor with a long career, starting as one of the boys in De Sica's SHOESHINE in 1946, and graduating to the lead in Fellini's classic I VITELLONI which I like a lot, in 1953. He also starred in one of the segments of I VINTI, also '53, and was one of the layabouts in Bolognini's LA NOTTE BRAVA in 1959, another Italian favourite. He also had roles in films as varied as THE BAREFOOT CONTESSA, FABIOLA, A FAREWELL TO ARMS, and lots of Italian films and series like ROMANZO CRIMINALE and kept working to 2010.
Brian Sewell (1931-2015) aged 84 - affectionate notices for London's "Evening Standard" art critic Brian Sewell, he of the plummy voice and manner, a latter day Quentin Crisp or Kenneth Williams? He was also, like Gore Vidal, a sexual revolutionary who often spoke of having 1,000 sexual partners a year. His acerbic weekly art reviews were highly regarded, and he also loved dogs (and rescued several) and vintage cars and also did some fascinating television documentaries. He waged witty, unwavering and vitriolic battle against what he what he regarded as the posturing inanities of modern British conceptual art. His readers were at once amazed and gratified to discover that this seemingly effete highbrow, whose outrageously camp voice (“Lady Bracknell on acid”) they knew from radio and television, should reflect all their own prejudices as he delivered his withering putdowns on he likes of Damien Hirst, Gilbert & George, Tracey Emin and even David Hockney.