Well, I had another post in the works but the passing of two favorites, one a director, the other an actor, preempts our regularly scheduled programming.

Miloš Forman

While the great unwashed may not be familiar with the name, you certainly know his work, which I’ll get to in a moment. But first:

Forman was born in 1932 in what’s now the Czech Republic. As a boy he lost both parents to the Holocaust—or so he thought. Only later did he discover that the man he assumed was his biological father, a Protestant (like his mother), was in fact his stepfather and that his biological father, a Jew, actually survived the camps. The irony!

As a young man, Forman became a key figure in the Czech New Wave, which won him no friends in the Czech government. Emigrating to America in the early 1970s, his first film, Taking Off (1971), proved a box office and critical failure, leaving him in the career penalty box until Michael Douglas hired him to direct the movie adaptation of Ken Kesey‘s novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. (According to Douglas, the decision had less to do with Forman’s talent and more to do with him coming cheap.) Whatever the reason, it was a great call—the 1975 film ended up winning the “Big Five” Academy Awards, including Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay.

Post-Cuckoo, Forman had his pick of projects. The one he chose, however, a film version of the musical, Hair (1979), performed below expectations. As did his fine 1981 adaptation of E. L. Doctorow‘s novel Ragtime. He rebounded in a big way with his next film, an adaptation Peter Shaffer‘s famous 1979 play, Amadeus. Like Cuckoo, the movie cleaned up at the Oscars, winning Best Picture, Best Actor and a second Best Director award for Forman.

With his legacy assured, Forman refused to play it safe, chosing projects close to his heart, one shaped by WW2, a socialist Czechoslovakia, the Prague Spring and other upheavals affecting the common man. After a flop with 1989’s Valmont (a Les Liaisons dangereuses adaptation overshadowed by Stephen Frears well-regarded and earlier-released Dangerous Liaisons), he took on two bold projects, The People vs. Larry Flynt (1996) and Man on the Moon (1999), the former self-explanatory, the latter about comedian Andy Kaufman. While neither were hits, they were, more importantly, critical darlings.

Truly a great talent, as evidenced by this clip from Amadeus, one of my favorite scenes in all of film, a perfect amalgamation of performance, writing, direction, editing, cinematography and music:

R. Lee “Gunny” Ermey

Ermey, born in 1944, was a bit of a wild child back in his Washington state youth. Story goes he was arrested for a second time and the judge, recognizing him, offered the following choice: jail or the     military. Ermey joined the Marines and the rest is history.

After spending 14 months in the shit in Vietnam, Gunny (a nickname he picked up when, in 2002, he received an honorary promotion to gunnery sergeant) used the G.I. Bill to attend college at the University of Manila. Just so happened that Francis Ford Coppola was in the Philippines at the same time working on Apocalypse Now. Although Gunny was hired as a technical advisory, he soon found himself grabbing a part in the film. For those with sharp eyes, you’ll see him in the following clip at the 3:21 mark, as the pilot of the scout helicopter. Thus a passion born.

Of course, the film that really thrust him into the public consciousness was Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket (1987), where he played Gunnery Sergeant “Why you little maggot, you make me want to vomit!” Hartman. Who can forget his introduction, both to the audience and his men? Definitely watch the clip with the volume maxed out, especially if you’re at work.

Gunny wasn’t all bluster, though; he acquitted himself nicely in a variety of more conventionally dramatic roles, including ones in Se7en, Dead Man Walking, Mississippi Burning. And then there was his famous (inevitable?) turn as the toy soldier in the three Toy Story films.

On a personal note, I’d like to note that I’ve tried to emulate Gunny in the raising of my children. Instead of Elmo, both my boys, at a very impressionable age, received the Gunnery Sgt. R. Lee Ermey action figure (“Push my button, you slimebag!”), pictured below:

Needless to say, the intensity of his plasticine stare combined with pre-recorded dialogue (“What is your major malfunction, numbnuts!”, “Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!”, “I’m going to tear you a new asshole!”, etc.) struck them mute at the push of a button. It’s too bad they ran away in their early teens and haven’t been heard from since. Because I’d love to sit with them and wax nostalgic over Gunny’s full life. Their loss!

RIP to both! (Gunny and Forman, that is. To the best of my knowledge, both my kids are still alive.)