Eric Bercovici, who produced and adapted James Clavell's massive novel Shogun into the Emmy-winning 1980 mini-series, has died at age 80. Bercovici was working on the Paramount lot and observed that the studio was not satisfied with a stream of prospective screenwriters who could not master how to adapt a story that was heavy on Japanese language and culture into a mainstream form of entertainment for American audiences. Bercovici and Clavell initially argued over his insistence that Clavell approve major edits and omissions to the novel. Eventually, Clavell relented and the series became a ratings smash. Bercovici related how, during production, the logistics of filming in Japan so annoyed local residents that police almost shut down production despite pleas from one of the series stars, the legendary Toshiro Mifune. It was the arrival in Japan of President Jimmy Carter that distracted the police and allowed production to finish. Bercovici also wrote the screenplay for John Boorman's 1968 WWII survival film Hell in the Pacific starring Mifune and Lee Marvin. However, his main strength was in television. He also wrote the hit 1977 Watergate-based mini series Washington: Behind Closed Doors and episodes of classic TV shows like Mission: Impossible, Hawaii 5-0, I Spy and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Click here for more  

Harold Ramis, who helped found the Second City comedy troupe and legendary TV series, has died after a long illness. He was 69 years old. Ramis wrote, directed and appeared in many hit comedy feature films. Among the hit films he directed were Caddyshack, Groundhog Day and Analyze This. He also wrote or appeared in films such as National Lampoon's Animal House, Stripes and Ghostbusters. He was part of a generation that reinvented TV and motion picture comedy. Ramis was a native of Chicago and had moved back there in recent years. For more on his life and achievements, click here. 

Eddy and Sid after a Master Class at NYU, 2003. (Photo: Michael Doft)

Sid Caesar’s funeral service was held on Sunday afternoon, February 16 at a private ceremony in Los Angeles.   Among the family and friends paying tribute was Sid’s biographer and friend, Cinema Retro’s Eddy Friedfeld, who co-authored Sid’s creative biography, Caesar’s Hours, published by Public Affairs in 2003.

What follows is the eulogy Eddy delivered before Sid's family, friends and colleagues.

Sid said that, like Isaac Newton, he stood on the shoulders of giants, his inspirations- Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Laurel and Hardy and W.C. Fields, who helped him develop his career and craft.  Today, Sid, we stand on your shoulders- and celebrate your life, your art, your warmth, character, and friendship. You did things no one else could do and you inspired many others, including people in this room, to take the same artistic risks.

And if our challenge was to sum up all your vast achievements into one phrase, we would say- “You made America laugh.”

Born in Yonkers in 1922, the fourth and youngest son of Max and Ida, he picked up dishes after school at his father’s luncheonette. Going from table to table he learned to speak his signature doubletalk, French, German, Italian and Russian from the multi-ethnic clientele. He went up to the Catskills one summer as a saxophone player and part time comedian, and wound up going back the following summer as a full time comedian and part time musician. An accomplished tenor saxophonist who could site read, he played with Shep Fields, Charlie Spievak, Claude Thornhill and Benny Goodman. He served in the Coast Guard during World War II, part of the Greatest Generation. He loved being an American and was the poster boy for the emerging medium of television and the Post World War II era of prosperity, growth and vision. While doing the reviews for the soldiers, he met Max Liebman, who cast him in Tars and Spars and later in his first Broadway Show, Make Mine Manhattan. The impresario Liebman took his protégé to a meeting with a young executive, Sylvester “Pat” Weaver, who wanted to bring the variety show to people’s living rooms, so that they didn’t have to go out for Broadway quality shows on Saturday Night. That meeting resulted in the Admiral Broadway Review and then Your Show of Shows, Caesar’s Hour, and The Chevy Specials.

Genius is often overused. Except where it is most appropriate. For almost nine years, he made millions laugh. At this point Sid would put his hand up, admonish me and say, “no one ever does anything great alone.” Sid wanted to make sure that his final bow was taken along-side Imogene Coca, Carl Reiner, Howard Morris, Nanette Fabray, and Mel Brooks, Mel Tolkin, Lucille Kallen, Tony Webster, Joe Stein, Danny and Doc Simon, Larry Gelbart, Woody Allen, Aaron Ruben, Mike Stewart, and a number of other great talents who worked indefatigably to write, create, and produce this new style of comedy on a weekly basis. They were quality- they could do what no one else could do, before or since.

Sid loved the written word- if it doesn’t start out on the page, it will never make it to the stage. He presided over a stable of creative minds. Young kids of immigrant parents who wanted to make their mark on the world through the vehicle of Sid’s unique gifts. When Larry Gelbart was asked why most of Sid’s writers were young and Jewish, he said, “Because all of our parents were old and Jewish.”

When you hear the generic term Writers Room, the first thought that it elicits in most minds is the legendary Caesar’s Writer’s Room. He loved his writers, collectively and individually. They were his Praetorian Guard. Of all his accomplishments, his acknowledged greatest was that he presided over the greatest group of comedy writers ever assembled, unless you think The Constitution is funny.

I had reached a point in our work together where I could watch a sketch and discern which writer contributed what line or thought. He made me promise never to share that with anyone. What was most important was not that these people were geniuses in their own right. What was significant was how they worked together. It was the genius of collaboration. The alchemy of creating comedy.

In 1949, television was a little over a year old. No one knew whether it was going to last, and no one envisioned the impact it would have on society and the world. Before Sid Caesar, television consisted of vaudeville, burlesque, wrestling, and bowling. Sid and his multi-talented cast, writers and crew helped define the medium, developing sketch comedy that was based in truth. For 39 weeks a year, they conceived, wrote, and executed an hour and a half of live television a week, week after week. They did it, because they did not know they couldn’t do it. There was no teleprompter, no cue cards, and no second chances. From movie satires, to foreign film parodies to pantomime, from a boy at his first dance to an argument at a bus station, to lions in the circus, they crafted stories that had beginnings, middles and ends, and helped ensure that television grew into one of the most enduring forces in our society. Unlike comedy that came before that was rooted in immigration and financial depression, this was about a new America- post-WWII, prosperous, hopeful, the era of suburbs, skyscrapers, and space travel- it needed smarter, fresher, optimistic, cutting edge comedy with an infusion of culture and satire.

Sid was a master of character and dialect. He transformed into the put upon husband Charlie Hickenlooper, feudal lord Shtaka Yamagura, stoner jazz musician Progress Hornsby, Tony Towers, the inventor of the Towers Trot, The Gangster Moose in Bullets Over Broadway, who had ears like a hawk, Al Duncy, who was reluctantly and literally carried onto the stage to have his life story told with Uncle Goopy and a parade of other crazy relatives in front of five thousand people, and the German General who fastidiously avoided jangling his medals, as he prepared to be a fancy hotel’s doorman.

He was a scientist who, after being bitten by a radioactive termite, developed an insatiable appetite for wood. As The Professor his endless expertise ranged from mountain climbing, sleep, and children.

And as the crying clown, Galipacci, he braved the perils of live television. When it came time to paint the tears on his cheeks, the point on his pencil broke. I don’t know what a lesser performer might have done, but Sid not only didn’t break character and song, he instinctively painted lines on his cheeks and proceeded to play tic tac toe, not missing a beat.

He was Melville Krump, DDS, who got locked in the hardware store overnight as part of a frenetic hunt for Jimmy Durante’s stolen loot along with the greatest comedians of all time in It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. He was Noble Eggleston, the pride of Venezuela, Illinois with six other roles in Little Me. And, as Coach Calhoun of Rydell High, he got John Travolta his letterman sweater in Grease.

He was also a Shtarker, possessed of Herculean strength- as he said “I could walk through a wall without opening a door.” The strength that affectionately held Mel Brooks out the 18^th floor window of The Palmer House in Chicago, punched a horse who was threatening his beloved wife Florence, and pulled the sink out of the wall of his dressing room when he had trouble remembering a line.

Sid understood his audience and always treated them with honesty and respect. He believed that the greatest comedy came with pathos- making the audience not only laugh- but think and sometimes cry.

We are a people that are defined by our culture and our passions. Sidney Caesar was a giant, becoming one of the most famous people in America. He walked among stars and statesmen, and the most accomplished and creative of his and subsequent generations, but always with a sense of awe and humility.

He raised a family. You can’t tell the Sid Caesar story without talking about Florence, his partner of 67 years, and children, Michelle, Rick and Karen. He battled and overcame demons and developed deep and lifelong friendships.

We own our cultural icons- they belong as much to us as they do to their own families. Laughing together keeps us close to our families; it is the lingua franca for our friendships, the shared memories, the shorthand phrases and inside jokes that keep us close years later.

Sid’s work not only made people laugh, it brought families together. Over the years, I consistently heard people say to and about Sid: “Thank you for making my parents laugh.” It was that association that people wanted to remember.

I didn’t grow up watching Sid Caesar. He belonged to my parents and grandparents. He was the fine china, their gold standard, talked about at the dinner table like a successful relative. My generation grew up on Blazing Saddles, Get Smart, MASH, The Dick Van Dyke Show and All in the Family, without realizing the connection.

I met Sid 14 years ago for an interview. We had a very nice connection. He invited me to come back two days later to watch his old shows with him. The article was well received and it led to a friendship and an artistic autobiography entitled Caesar’s Hours that came out in 2003. I spent two years working with him on that book. It was Sid, me, and Sid’s dog, Carlin. It was the hardest I ever worked and the most fun I ever had. It was basically one long, spirited argument. Sid loved passionate discourse. He believed in his version of the Samuel Goldwyn adage, “From a polite conference comes a polite script”- and to which he embellished: “You only fight with your friends- no one else is worth your time.”

He was tough on those close to him, and toughest on himself- he wanted everyone to be the best version of themselves, the most productive and the most artistic. He was a naturally gifted writer who never touched a pencil or keyboard- he could hear a paragraph and literally rearrange it in his head- and make it better. If he didn’t have the deadline of a weekly show, we’d still be working on the Professor on Mountain Climbing sketch from 1951, and making it better with each draft.

He became my coach. I realized that if John Travolta had paid more attention to Sid when he played his coach, he could have been even bigger.

After we finished working together, we became even closer, and I visited him often. When I was in New York, we had a regular Friday night phone call that began in 2003 and ended about two weeks ago. If I didn’t call him by 3:30, there was a voicemail message from him asking me where I was and that he was ready to talk. He could discuss and debate art, film, music, world history, politics, and string theory- he loved an intelligent discussion. He particularly loved the impressionist painters- Monet, Manet, Renoir, and Seurat, who started out as struggling artists trying to develop a new form of art- his favorite painting was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He identified with artists who painted outside the lines- to him that was what being a comedian was- painting outside the lines.

He became one the best friends I ever had- a surrogate father after my own father passed away, and a mentor. He was there for encouragement, advice and support as I worked on other projects and developed and taught my comedy and film courses at Yale and NYU. He loved that college students were getting to know his work and writing papers about him, which I shared with him. He took this not-so-young lawyer and helped me become a writer and film professor and he took pride in my accomplishments. He would tell me: “Eddy, Live the life that you want, and love the life that you live.”

As the performers in this room today can attest, he was the world’s greatest audience. He laughed with his mouth and with his eyes, and his approval was palpable. It wasn’t a star’s laugh- it was a fan’s laugh and a friend’s laugh- wonderful for a comedian or writer; he never outgrew that sense of wonderment that most of us only had as a kid. Toward the end of his life I still loved to make him laugh- I told him the irony was that I probably did the best creative work of my career in Sid Caesar’s bedroom.

After Florence passed away four years ago, we spent a lot of time together watching old movies, from Key Largo to The Manchurian Candidate to his favorite- The Godfather. He had a personal story about the actors in every film. I got to know his heart- it was big and complex. I even forgave him for making me turn off North by Northwest after 40 minutes, proclaiming that “it takes too long for Hitchcock to tell a story.”

I want to particularly thank all of the friends who supported Sid after Florence passed away. You need to know it meant the world to him to have you around. Special thanks Sid’s caregivers, Kona, Peter, Jerry, and Albert, who worked tirelessly to make Sid feel like a king, and a heartfelt thanks to Fran and Lou Zigman for organizing the parties, the smaller visits, the hospice care and many other things that literally kept him alive these past few years.

In Laughter on the 23^rd Floor- Neil Simon’s play based on his days in the Writer’s Room, the characters gather when they realize that the reign of their boss, television star Max Prince, is coming to a close. When Lucas calls him noble, Ira says:

“You think he was noble? He was Moses for crise’ sake. The man is a giant. He’s Goliath. Maybe he’s Goliath after David hit him in the head with a rock, but there’s fucking greatness in him, I swear… He’s got so much anger in him, so much pain, so much roast beef and potato salad, that when he goes down like he did tonight, with such a crash, people fell out of their beds in Belgium… There’ll never be another Max Prince again, because he’s an original. I’m telling you guys, we just lived through history.”

This is Sid Caesar’s final public appearance. And I want to explain the nuance of that remark. At his core, his essence, Sid Caesar was a performer, an entertainer, and a storyteller. Whether he was in front of 60 million people, 60 people or six people, every fiber of his being wanted to make you laugh and smile, and leave you feeling better than when you got there. The fact that you’ve been there for him and are here today means the world to him. The fact that you got to smile and be emotional, he gets that credit, and on his behalf, he would want me to thank you.

Sid Caesar was an original. He loved, he was loved and he will be missed. Rest in peace, my friend. Remember, you made America laugh.

Actor Ralph Waite has died at age 85. He became an icon of American television as the kindly father on the hit TV series The Waltons, which ran for nine seasons beginning in 1972. Waite received an Emmy nomination for his performance and he appeared in several Waltons reunion shows and TV specials over the years. Waite had a diversified career prior to acting. He was a Marine, social worker and ordained minister. He became disillusioned with the church and entered the acting profession. Despite a battle with alcoholism for many years, Waite was always in demand both on TV and in feature films. He received another Emmy nomination for his performance in the 1977 TV miniseries Roots. His feature films include Cool Hand Luke, The Stone Killer, Lawman and The Magnificent Seven Ride! He peppered his acting career with political activism and ran unsuccessfully as a Democratic candidate for Congress on three occasions. He starred on stage in an acclaimed version of Death of a Salesman and in recent years, he had a recurring role as Mark Harmon's dad on the hit CBS series NCIS. Click here for more.  

The death of funnyman Sid Caesar leaves precious few legends remaining from the Golden Age of American television comedy. Caesar was one of the giants of 1950s TV and his series Your Show of Shows and Caesar's Hour were considered training grounds for future legendary comedy writers such as Carl Reiner, Howard Morris, Mel Brooks,  Larry Gelbart Neil Simon and Woody Allen. Caesar also appeared in many feature films including a leading role in the blockbuster 1963 comedy It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. In the 1960s, however, his career was derailed due to his personal demons such as battles with alcoholism and substance abuse. By the 1980s, he had conquered these weaknesses and found a welcome audience still respectful of his talents. His other feature film appearances include The Busy Body, The Spirit is Williing, Grease and Silent Movie. Click here to read more about his remarkable career.  

Shirley Temple, one of the most iconic figures in the history of the movie business, has passed away at age 85. No details of her death have been released as of this writing. Temple was the the ultimate child star. The pint-sized dynamo's sugar-coated family films provided some respite to audiences from the pain of the Great Depression and literally saved Fox from bankruptcy. She was the biggest boxoffice sensation of the era and was so popular that her image adorned a highly successful merchandise line. Seemingly every little girl at the time had a Shirley Temple doll.  Temple was so popular that she received an honorary Oscar in 1934 for her contributions to the film industry. She continued to act as a teenager and a young woman but quit feature films in 1949, though she did return to the screen with a TV series between 1959-1961. In 1950, Temple married businessman Charles Black and henceforth would be known as Shirley Temple Black. In her memoirs, published in 1988, she related how, at age 22, she discovered that her considerable fortune had been squandered by her parents through their opulent lifestyle and bad business investments. Temple always maintained that she bore them no ill will. Temple was always politically active and was appointed as U.S. delegate to the United Nations by President Richard Nixon in 1969. She would later also serve as a U.S. ambassador and chief of protocol for President Gerald Ford. Although a lifelong Republican, Temple was honored by President Bill Clinton in 1998. The President said of her that she "had the greatest short-lived career in movie history, then gracefully retired to the far less strenuous life of public service". For more click here

Actor Christopher Jones has died at age 72. Once touted as the heir to James Dean, Jones boasted a handsome face and the same type of brooding intensity that had made legends of Dean and Brando. Jones got his first big break in the 1960s Western TV series The Legend of Jesse James but the show lasted only one season. After appearances on The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and Judd for the Defense, Jones graduated to feature films. He starred in the little-seen 1967 drama Chubasco (click here for review), the hit 1968 Roger Corman production of Wild in the Streets (in which he played a rock star who becomes President of the United States), Three in the Attic and the spy thriller The Looking Glass War. His most high profile role was as a British army officer who falls in a forbidden love affair with an Irish girl in David Lean's 1970 film Ryan's Daughter. Jones dropped out of acting after that, circumventing a promising career. He later attributed his disillusionment to the murder of Sharon Tate, who he claimed he was having an affair with at the time of her murder by the Manson gang in 1969. Jones was by all counts a moody man who disdained the public spotlight. Jones spurned other offers to return to the screen including one by Quentin Tarantino to appear in Pulp Fiction. His last known screen credit was the rarely-screened Mad Dog Time in 1996 for director Larry Bishop. Click here for more.

(Click here to read Herbert Shadrak's 2009 article about Christopher Jones)  

The death of acclaimed actor Philip Seymour Hoffman sent shock waves around the world. Hoffman was found dead in New York City, apparently a victim of the substance abuse he was attempting to combat. Stephen Whitty, the film critic of the Newar Star Ledger, offers and insightful tribute to Hoffman. Click here to read

Schell with Brando in The Young Lions.

Oscar-winning Austrian actor Maximillian Schell has passed away at the age of 83. Schell made his English language screen debut opposite Marlon Brando in the WWII film The Young Lions in 1958. Three years later he won the Best Actor Oscar for his performance in Stanley Kramer's Judgment at Nuremberg. Schell played an attorney burdened with the thankless task of defending Nazi war criminals. The character, while repelled by the acts some individuals committed, offered a spirited defense that brought nuance to the circumstances in which National Socialism had arisen. The intelligent depiction of this sensitive subject- and Schell's impassioned performance- was praised internationally. Schell continued to be a leading man in high profile film productions including Tokapi, Counterpoint, Krakatoa: East of Java, The Odessa File, A Bridge Too Far, The Freshman, The Chosen and Deep Impact. He was nominated for Oscars two other times: for Best Actor in the 1976 screen adaptation of Robert Shaw's The Man in the Glass Booth and the following year for Best Supporting Actor for Julia. Schell was also an acclaimed director with his documentary about Marelene Dietrich winning international praise. For more on his life and career click here.