“I’m losing it.” Those were Sinatra’s last words. Not “one more for the road” or “I did it my way” or even a burial wish — “I want to be a part of it, New York, New York.” No. Sinatra went with no one but a nurse by his side, to whom he reportedly said, “I’m losing it.” Was he watching “Seinfeld,” finding himself disappointed by, as Harry Shearer so deftly called it, “the clip show following the clip show?” Or was he worrying that his singing voice was dissipating? Or was this the ultimate hipster’s lament for, in some Shakespearean parlance, sloughing off this mortal coil. “Baby, I’m losing it” might have been better, but the guy wasn’t feeling so hot, so I’ll give him that.
When my father lost it, almost a year ago (he was a year younger than Sinatra), I was watching a video of Set It Off. That movie was a lot better than the “Seinfeld” adios, with none of the hype. But aware of my father’s limited understanding of lesbians, blacks, hip-hop and indeed, black lesbians who listen to hip-hop, I turned off the tape minutes before his deep sleep turned into the big sleep. I hope someone knew enough to turn off “Seinfeld” for Frank. What must he have made of a bunch of whinny New Yorkers whose theme song would have been, “We can’t be happy here. We can’t be happy anywhere.” (Personally, I spent “Seinfeld” night at the one place that made sense to me — Yankee Stadium. The announcer bellowed, “We’d like to pay tribute to a Yankee employee who is moving on tonight. And ‘Farewell George Costanza’ appeared on the Jumbotron, followed by clips. None of the clips included Larry David‘s George Steinbrenner imitation. George would have lost it. Of course, a night later, it was a tribute to the man whose voice ends every Yankee game with, perhaps, his most famous single hit.)
Spending time in New York kind of reminded me how easy it is to lose it here in Los Angeles. In New York, you have to deal with people to get across a street in one piece. Here in L.A., you don’t even have to pay attention to the cars you are scraping while you pick up the call waiting on your cell phone that you are receiving a fax on in your Range Rover driving through Beverly Hills while complaining that reception isn’t good because there are too damn many cell phones in that enclave. Hell, if your car is big enough, you don’t ever have to see anyone in L.A. And sometimes it’s as though the entire city is filled with parents of two-year-olds who constantly want to show you slides, except their “babies” are movies, not slides, and they cost $70 million each, and when they are ugly, you blame everyone’s marketing department and not your own or your spouse’s genetics. I love children and I love movies, but the rest gets pretty weird and even weirder when I feel myself slipping into the abyss.
So, how will I keep from losing it? Well, my work at rough cut is evolving. The Hot Button will be here every day, as usual. But there will be even more interaction with you as we rev up more contests and live chats. The Whole Picture is coming to an end, but we’re replacing it with two new features that will give you even closer access to the people who are really making things happen in this industry. (And believe me, the serious folks take their jobs seriously. Work first, hype second.) And I look to you all. People who love movies. Agree or disagree with me, you keep me sane. You pay for your movies. You pay attention to your movies. And you remind me that it’s not just about dollars and cents. I thank you for that.
When I do go, I want to have something from David Lean on the VR machine. Probably Bridge Over the River Kwai. I wish that it was to identify with Bill Holden, but it’s not. It’s that moment of clarity that Alec Guiness has at the end. After a lifetime of trying to do the right thing, no matter what the price, he sees the light. And he has his redemption before he dies. Striving to get it right until the end. That’s what will keep me from losing it. That and nine cable movie channels.
READER OF THE DAY: Joe D on Leo in American Psycho: “I agree with you. I read the book two years ago. It is understandably controversial. Made my stomach twist. It is one thing in a novel written from the narrator’s point-of-view to describe alternately inane, shallow thoughts to insane activity. I can’t imagine what a camera would do to such a story. To draw a parallel, it’s one thing to read a murderer’s diary and another to see a movie based on it. I can’t imagine a movie providing neither the intimacy nor the shock of the intimacy of the novel. What it will do for a young actor with such an immense following?!”

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