Obits »

On October 23, actor Lou Jacobi passed away in his Manhattan home at the age of 95.

Born in Toronto, Jacobi began acting as a boy, but really kicked off his career in the '50s, playing Captain Noakes in Is Your Honeymoon Really Necessary in 1953 and soon making his Broadway debut in 1955 as one of the attic dwellers in The Diary of Anne Frank. Only a few years later, he brought his role as Mr. Hans Van Daan to the big screen opposite Shelley Winters in 1959 and followed it with a long career as a character actor, filled with notable film and television roles.

Cinematically, he played Uncle Morty in My Favorite Year, a plant store owner in Arthur, Herb in Next Stop, Greenwich Village, Gabriel Krichinsky in Avalon, and even Kurt Godel in I.Q. -- his last film. But perhaps his most notable character was Sam Musgrave in Woody Allen's Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex *But Were Too Afraid to Ask. If you've seen the film, you'll remember Jacobi, the man who snuck his way into a woman's closet, cross-dressed in a white and red dress, and ended up in a whole thieving kerfuffle on the suburban streets outside.

Watch the clip and reminisce after the jump. Lou, you are missed.

[via Variety]

The gallery of colorful character actors has lost another one of its most reliable members. Don't feel bad if you don't know the name Henry Gibson, because I suspect that a "supporting" player like Mr. Gibson would take your ignorance as a compliment. Actors like Henry Gibson generally show up 7th or 8th in the opening credits, if they show up there at all, but they excel at two things: Providing flawless support for a lead actor or a big star, and giving movie-watchers a nice comfortable vibe of "Ohhh, this guy! He's been in a dozen flicks I've seen before. No idea who he is, but I'm glad to see him again."

That was Henry Gibson. The frustrated "Illinois Nazi" from The Blues Brothers. The confused grocer in Innerspace. The goofy preacher from Wedding Crashers. He was in Nashville, The Long Goodbye, The Nutty Professor, Magnolia, and The 'Burbs. He worked on the screen, on the stage, and in more TV shows than you've probably ever seen. Hell, he was even the voice of Wilbur in the animated version of Charlotte's Web.

Mr. Gibson passed away this week at the age of 73. I think its safe to say he left behind a legion of adoring colleagues (he worked a lot!), to say nothing of the appreciative old-school film fans. He will be missed. The Cinematical staff sends its condolences and best wishes to Mr. Gibson's friends and family.

When I first heard the news that Patrick Swayze had passed away at age 57, my first two thoughts were as follows: Point Break (1991) and Donnie Darko (2001). Those were my two personal Patrick Swayze cult classics, the ones I own on DVD, the ones I can watch again, anytime. But the next thing I saw was a tribute on morning television, and the main clips came from Swayze's biggest hits, Dirty Dancing (1987) and Ghost (1990), two films I do not own on DVD and do not particularly care to see again. Then I looked him up and saw a cornucopia of other titles, ranging all over the map, including a bunch of stuff I had never heard of. There were two I reviewed as a critic, the awful Green Dragon (2001) and the very cool 11:14 (2003).

There was an early appearance, along with a handful of other rising stars in Francis Ford Coppola's The Outsiders (1983). There was a Golden Globe nomination for the campy To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (1995). There was a failed bid for Oscar glory with Roland Joffe's City of Joy (1992). There was a British comedy that seems pretty popular in England, Keeping Mum (2005). There were some cheesy 1980s action films, like Steel Dawn (1987) and Next of Kin (1989). Then, further down the list, I noted two more films of a different nature, Red Dawn (1984) and Road House (1989). I saw Red Dawn so long ago that I can't remember any of it, and I have never seen Road House, but they are on my radar as much-loved cult films in other quarters. From the looks of them, however, they probably fall somewhere between the "cheesy" and "so-bad-it's-good" categories of cult films.

Recently, the National Enquirer swore that Patrick Swayze had taken a turn for the worse and was heading home to die. I didn't write it up because I didn't want to believe it, and comforted myself in the fact that the Enquirer is far from a reliable source for information. However, while he may have been valiantly fighting pancreatic cancer and working until almost the end, now the AP reports that Patrick Swayze has passed away at the age of 57. In a statement released by publicist Annett Wolf: "Patrick Swayze passed away peacefully today with family at his side after facing the challenges of his illness for the last 20 months."

Swayze's career started back in 1979, when he played Ace Johnson in Skatetown, U.S.A. But it wasn't until The Outsiders in 1983 that he started to make the waves, stealing young girls hearts with his portrayal of Darrel Curtis. Then came Red Dawn, Youngblood, and the epic miniseries North and South, each paving the way for the film that made him an indelible icon, a man we would never forget -- Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing. Pulling Baby out of the corner, he became a tried and true star. Ghost, of course, followed soon after, and then things petered off. But he didn't stop working. He had an amazing stint as the eerie Jim Cunningham in Donnie Darko, and even as he fought the cancer, he showed up in Powder Blue and The Beast. He seemed unbeatable...

Patrick, you're missed ... and this is for you ...

Dirty Dancing, The Time Of My Life

Punk poet and author of The Basketball Diaries Jim Carroll passed away September 11th at the age of 60. His autobiography, which detailed his transformation from prep school basketball player to an increasingly desperate drug addict, was adapted for the big screen in 1995. Leonardo DiCaprio's raw performance as Carroll bolstered the young actor's rising star; the film also featured Lorraine Bracco as Jim's mom and Mark Wahlberg as one of his teammates and drug buddies.

Carroll also contributed two songs to the soundtrack, "Catholic Boy" and "People Who Died, " which was also used in the soundtracks for E.T. and the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead.

The rocker and writer was also featured in the documentary Poetry in Motion, along with other famous modern poets like Charles Bukowski, Allen Ginsberg, Amiri Baraka, and Anne Waldman. Check out some clips from the movie here, courtesy of Monika Bartyzel. After the jump you'll find a clip from The Basketball Diaries that could easily double as a D.A.R.E. commercial, as well as a music video of Carroll performing "People Who Died" with his band for the movie.

I'm probably the wrong person to write this tribute, but I felt something needed to be said. I had never met, nor indeed had ever heard of Filipino-Canadian film critic Alexis A. Tioseco -- though he and I have been published in the pages of the same weekly paper -- or his Slovenian film journalist partner Nika Bohinc, who were killed by three burglars in their home in Manila last Tuesday night. (He was 29; she was 30.) A few of my colleagues knew them, and the heartfelt tributes have been pouring in. Raised in Vancouver, Tioseco moved back to his birthplace, the Philippines, in 1997. He started and ran a website called Criticine.com and contributed articles to other papers, magazines and websites. He focused mainly on Southeast Asian cinema, and felt that it was unnecessary to contribute to the already overloaded myriad of opinions on the latest English-language blockbuster.

Molly Ringwald's tribute to John Hughes in the New York Times offers outsiders an enlightening look at what it was like to work with the writer and director who created the movies that not only shaped our teen years, but those of his stars.

While her essay is sentimental, it's not saccharine, and like Ms. Ringwald herself, it's beautiful. She offers us a rare glimpse into the reclusive director, "a sort of J.D. Salinger for Generation X" whom she compares to Peter Pan with a huge, open heart that eventually closed off to the world of Hollywood.

She writes, "Most people who knew John knew that he was able to hold a grudge longer than anyone - his grudges were almost supernatural things, enduring for years, even decades. Michael suspects that he was never forgiven for turning down parts in Pretty in Pink and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. I turned down later films as well. Not because I didn't want to work with John anymore -- I loved working with him, more than anyone before or since...

Eventually, though, I felt that I needed to work with other people as well. I wanted to grow up, something I felt (rightly or wrongly) I couldn't do while working with John. Sometimes I wonder if that was what he found so unforgivable. We were like the Darling children when they made the decision to leave Neverland. And John was Peter Pan, warning us that if we left we could never come back. And, true to his word, not only were we unable to return, but he went one step further. He did away with Neverland itself."

And just like we all have our favorite memories of watching Hughes movies, so do his stars. Read her essay -- it will make you feel like you were there, crawling through the AC ducts above Maine North High School during detention.

I was a wee lass when my mom and I caught The Breakfast Club on late-night TV. I remember a distinct uneasiness mixed with giggles during the one scene where John Bender (Judd Nelson looking very foxy) snuck a peek at Claire's underwear while he was hiding under the desk. (Claire, in case you live under a rock, is played with ice-queen perfection by Molly Ringwald.) I teared up when Brian (Anthony Michael Hall) described his desire to commit suicide. And I admired how awesome, cool, and crazy Allison (Ally Sheedy) was in her black clothing, purse full of crap, and lies about sex with her shrink. (I was also disappointed by her makeover, but such is life. Duckie was supposed to end up with Andie, and Iona traded in her punk rocking-ness for a more normal dude in Pretty in Pink, after all.) And every time I hear "Don't You (Forget About Me)" by Simple Minds all I want to do is dance in my living room and trade earrings with a cute boy. I was never in detention, but The Breakfast Club makes me wish I was. At least once.

What's your favorite memory of watching a John Hughes movie? What scene do you wish you could have lived in, just for a minute?

John Hughes left an indelible mark on the childhood of most people who grew up in the 1980s. It was impossible to get through most days without hearing a quote from one of his movies, and chances are you can remember watching at least one of these with your friends: Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Planes, Trains, & Automobiles, She's Having A Baby, and those are just some of the movies he directed -- he wrote and produced many more.

His words, characters, and song selections all made up the soundtracks of so many of our lives, and he passed away earlier today at the age of 59, according to TMZ. Cause of death appears to be a sudden heart attack while visiting his family in New York City. We're sure cable channels will be scrambling to toss together some Hughes marathons this weekend, and though his time as a director might have been over for some time, the impression he left on audiences and filmmakers will hopefully never be forgotten.

Now to go pull out my Ferris Bueller's Day Off DVD and reminisce about 1986.

Actor, singer and Broadway star Harve Presnell died July 1, 2009 at the age of 75. Born September 14, 1933, Presnell started his career on stage, playing prominent roles on Broadway in shows such as The Unsinkable Molly Brown, before moving into film work in the late 1960s. Perhaps best known as the domineering father-in-law to William H. Macy's sheepish wannabe kidnapper in Fargo, Presnell enjoyed a career resurgence in the 1990s and became one of the more recognizable character actors of the last two decades.

Presnell's performance in Fargo was one of those that made even cinephiles wonder, who is this guy? Playing Wade Gunderson, the gruff and obstinate father of the film's kidnap victim, he complemented the desperate ambition of Macy's Jerry Lundegaard and the smalltown sensibleness of Frances McDormand's Marge Gunderson. That same year, he appeared in several other movies, including The Whole Wide World, Larger Than Life and The Chamber, rekindling a film career that stagnated in 1976.