I certainly didn't want to miss the excitement of the first full day of screenings, but it was difficult to "get going' after the late night excitement of the Vanity Fair party, so I wasn't sufficiently "coffee-ed" up enough to make the introduction to The Bad and The Beautiful with Robert Osborne and Cheryl Crane, Lana Turner's only child, and author of a biography of her mother.

The Bad and the Beautiful, Vincent Minelli's excellent Hollywood expose from 1952 with a screenplay scrafted by Charles Schnee who also wrote Red River (both the film and the teleplay), Butterfield 8, They Live by Night, Two Weeks in Another Town, and The Next Voice You Hear, won something like 5 Oscars even though it hadn't been nominated for best picture.

This film showcases Kirk Douglas in one of my favorites of all of his performances, besides George Phipps in A Letter to Three Wives, Spartacus, and Jack in Lonely are the Brave. I made it just in time to see one of my favorite scenes on the big screen when Lana is driving the car in the rain and crying hysterically.

And I always love the ending to this film because even though all the characters have absolutely had it with Jonathan Shields' behavior, at the end Georgia Lorrison, Harry Pebbel, and Fred Amiel are still riveted to the phone listening to Shields lure them in once again. But other passholders who saw the introductory discussion with Osborne and Crane proclaimed Crane's sustained interest in the professionalism of Turner's career, and during a later discussion at Imitation of Life, Robert Osborne would refer to this interview while discussing the filming of Imitation of Life with Juanita Moore, and Susan Kohner.

Then it was on to brunch at the little restaurant that overlooks the inviting pool at the Hollywood Roosevelt. (It's supposedly situated right above the area where Marilyn Monroe had her one and only photo shoot at the hotel.) Folks were swimming in the heated pool and sunning themselves on the lounge chairs while snuggled up in those wonderfully warm super-sized bath towels because it was still a little chilly, especially when you stepped out of that lovely, heated pool.

The breakfast was delicious and the fruit was fresh, eggs were scrambled perfectly fluffy, toast was warm and orange juice tart. But, and now I come to the only complaint portion of my entire visit, except for the fact that the festival was only four short days. It is the small matter of the breakfast potatoes....I think the chef was gearing up for a kind of potatoes galette-kind-of-throw-a few-liquified-capers-in-and-some-garlic- powder-with-dried-parsley-for-a-visual-enticement-like- La Madeleine- kind of culinary experience, but I am sorry. Those breakfast potatoes, and they also serve the same ones if you order room service, were like cold, mushy, greasy, mashed potatoes. It was like The Blob. It acted like it was finally relieved to just sort of ooze on your plate and stare back at you, defying you to attack it with a fork. Eeeeyu! Maybe I've just been viewing too much Gordon Ramsey lately, but there is no way you could pretend they were delicious while you were actually eating them unless you had earned 3 or 4 Oscars. Maybe Meryl Streep could carry it off. I couldn't.

So the wonderful waiter recognized an unhappy patron from her ghoulish, girlish grimace. He brought me an extra side order of toast. That was sweet. The service staff at this hotel attended to details-they were patient, kind, and thoughtful. Thank you, Hollywood Roosevelt, but call the Waffle House for a lesson on Hashed Browns 101. And I wasn't the only passholder put off by the "breakfast" potatoes...several of us had a potato pity party at Club TCM solely about this one and only culinary disgrace. (And, yes, laughter did ensue.) So my only real complaint during the whole wonderful four days is that I want the management to deal with those nasty potatoes....Eeeyu!

Time to run again and onto the "Conversation Between Peter Bogdanovich and Leonard Maltin"mano a mano at Club TCM, right here in the hotel, on the first floor, across from the spacious lobby bar. Bogdonavich and Maltin were seated face-to-face on the raised dais of the dance floor.(And yes, there was dancing, but more about that later.) And Bogdanovich did not disappoint. He told many Hollywood tales in character as he schmoozed about Orson Welles as Orson Welles, a Bogdonavich house guest during his Cybill Shepherd years. Bogdanovich also does a great impression of Howard Hawks, someone he has researched and written about in some of his
printed exploits, and he also indulged in the industrial name-dropping he is famous for. Both gentlemen received a huge round of applause from the packed room, and Bogdonavich signed autographs as he left the stage. (Yes, he signed one of my books. I was just standing there, watching him leave, and since I am about 9 feet tall, I guess my height startled him, and he started wiggling his pen in my direction, so I shoved a book in his direction. (He was sedate, but gracious.)

After the discussion, I visited with several of my TCM City buddies and new folks I'd met at the festival, and we all chatted about what screening we were going to see next. Everyone was still so excited about our experiences..

But I was running out of tip and t-shirt cash (The souvenirs are wonderful!), so I had to find a local branch bank in the area. The lobby near the registration desk had computers for guestmember use and I looked up a local bank address there, and I went out to the covered portico at the valet and was going to ask for my poor, exhausted rent SUV that had already been all over California, but then one of the service staff asked if I needed a free ride, and I answered, "But, of course!" and he stated that they had a brand new Buick with a tall, good looking chaffeur named Dave, to take me anywhere I wanted to go. And I didn't have to jog my rentvee from its cozy and well-positioned valet space. So Dave drove me to and from the bank, and I arrived in front of Grauman's just in time for the screening of Imitation of Life just as the tall, well-attired chauffer opened the inside curb door for me to step out onto the footprint arena where all the famous Hollywood stars I've admired through the years have left their marks....

Next: The Imitation of Life screening with a post-film discussion engaging Juanita Moore, Robert Osborne, and Susan Kohner...