Latest news with #ILoveLucy
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Lucie Arnaz Returns to the Lot Her Parents Built—This Time to Help a Fan Finish His Film
Lucie Arnaz Returns to the Lot Her Parents Built—This Time to Help a Fan Finish His Film originally appeared on L.A. Mag. Raji Ahsan proves it's always great to meet your heroes. Perhaps your childhood obsession was Barbie or board games, but for young Ahsan growing up in Orange County in the 90s, it was Desilu Studios, the long-gone TV production company founded by Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. The filmmaker is partnering with Lucy and Desi's daughter Lucie Arnaz for 'Lucie on the Lot' a fundraising event to complete his new film Dr. Sam at the old family studio on June 5. After completing their iconic series, I Love Lucy, Desilu produced shows like Star Trek, Mission: Impossible and Mannix from the old RKO Studios (now Paramount) at the corner of Melrose and Gower in Hollywood. Lucy sold her shares in the company to Paramount decades before Raji was born. 'I'm a Desilu nut,' Ahsan says. 'Right after 9/11 they stopped giving studio tours. When I was 12 I had a school assignment to write a persuasive essay and my teacher said you should mail it to the studio so I did…and I put in my tiny little headshot.' Two weeks later he dialed up the studio and a friendly page told him he was moved by the letter and offered a private tour. 'My mom lived in a shelter and she cleaned houses to keep us fed,' Ahsan remembers. 'When she was home, we'd watch I Love Lucy. It was my comfort.' Ahsan grew up to become an actor and a waiter – the classic Hollywood combo. Through mutual friends, he met Emmy-winning actress Lucie Arnaz and a friendship was born. 'He had a podcast and asked me to be a guest,' says Arnaz. 'He's really smart and funny and full of ideas. I instinctively took him under my wing and wanted to help him. He's a powerhouse. You've gotta be like that to get anything done in this world.' Ahsan wrote the short film Dr. Sam about a struggling actor, musician and waiter who masquerades as a therapist and offered a part to his hero Arnaz. 'He said he'd like me to play his mom,' she says. 'I so do not look Egyptian, so in the movie he's adopted.' Lucie and her brother Desi Jr. spent part of their childhood exploring the historic Hollywood lot that today is part of Paramount. 'We would be let loose in some wonderful big empty stages,' Armaz remembers. 'It was so fun to go through the prop room at RKO and play with a life size King Kong and all the wonderful costumes and amazing props from all the films they had done. It was a kid's paradise.' Today, Arnaz lives in Palm Springs, where she writes and produces new shows and oversees the merchandise end of the family business with her daughter. Her brother Desi is retired, and jokingly calls himself a 'self-imposed recluse.' Arnaz will be performing standards live in concert at the Catalina Jazz Club in Hollywood on June 27-28 and opening the new season of the Purple Room in Palm Springs August 29 and 30. The 'Lucie on the Lot' event on June 5 will screen Arnaz's award-winning film Lucy and Desi: A Home Movie on the big screen at the Paramount Theater. There will be a celebration of the 75th anniversary of Desilu, photo ops in front of the famous Bronson gate you remember from Sunset Boulevard and a chance to chat up the filmmakers. Proceeds will be split between finishing up Ahsan's film and the Long Beach shelter his mom landed in when the family immigrated to L.A. 'I wanted to live on the lot,' Ahsan says. 'The fact that Lucie is coming to this place I wrote a letter to when I was 12 is full circle.' This story was originally reported by L.A. Mag on May 30, 2025, where it first appeared.
Los Angeles Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Poignant Desi Arnaz bio spotlights drive and showbiz innovations of Lucy's comic foil
Desi Arnaz's life ricocheted between privilege and economic hardship, creative peaks and alcoholic lows — the stuff of high drama. But it was comedy that secured his legacy. The Cuban American musician, bandleader, actor and producer remains most famous for his role as Lucille Ball's husband and straight man, Ricky Ricardo, in their iconic 1950s television series, 'I Love Lucy.' Arnaz, playing a version of himself, memorably exploded into exasperation or anger before forgiving the TV Lucy's slapstick schemes. In actuality, he was far more than his (real-life) wife's adroit comic foil. As Todd S. Purdum relates in his intimate, often poignant biography, Arnaz was the driving force behind the show and a pioneer of early television. 'I Love Lucy' was filmed before a live studio audience using multiple synchronized cameras, innovations that paved the way for both massively profitable syndication and future sitcoms. That business model, Purdum writes, 'lasted unchallenged for the better part of seven decades, until the streaming era established a competing paradigm.' Desilu Productions, the couple's company, became a leading creator of television content and eventually spawned the 'Mission: Impossible' and 'Star Trek' franchises. The themes in 'Desi Arnaz' are familiar from Amy Poehler's 2022 documentary, 'Lucy and Desi,' though the book provides more detail and context. Purdum stresses both Arnaz's underappreciated talents as a producer and showbiz entrepreneur and the couple's enduring bond, which survived even their divorce and remarriages to others. Like the film, the biography benefits from the cooperation of the couple's children, Desi Arnaz Jr. and especially Lucie Arnaz, who opened private family archives to the author. That access allows Purdum (who in 2018 chronicled another creative partnership, between Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, in 'Something Wonderful') to present a nuanced portrait of both Arnaz's gifts and his tragic shortcomings. Alongside his celebration of Arnaz's entrepreneurial savvy, comic flair, photographic memory, personal kindness and managerial skills, Purdum chronicles his (probable) sex addiction and descent into alcoholism. He emphasizes Arnaz's 'compulsive patronage of prostitutes,' which Purdum suggests played an outsize role in his philandering. Whatever the source and specific contours of his demons, Arnaz's impulsive, self-destructive behavior derailed both his marriage to Ball and his career. In material terms at least, Arnaz's childhood in Cuba was idyllic. The privileged only son of an aristocratic lineage, he was 'raised as a prince.' His pharmacist father became the reformist mayor of Santiago, and the youthful Desi — born Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha in 1917 — a bit of a hellion. But the 1933 Cuban Revolution impelled his family's flight from the island, dashing Desi's hopes of a legal career. At 17, he ended up penniless in Miami, living with his father in a rat-infested warehouse and cleaning canary cages for cash. In high school, his best friend was Al Capone Jr., the Chicago mobster's son. The radical shift in Arnaz's fortunes, Purdum argues, led to 'a willingness to take bold risks — and a burning, consuming drive to succeed.' Music was the first path he took. Purdum, otherwise an admirer, describes Arnaz's musical talents (if not his charisma) as 'limited.' Xavier Cugat, 'king of the rumba,' nevertheless hired him, and Bing Crosby advocated for him. Arnaz gained celebrity as the American popularizer of the conga, an Afro Cuban line dance that his father had once tried to ban. The Broadway lyricist Lorenz Hart spotted Arnaz in a Miami Beach club called La Conga, and with his collaborator, Richard Rodgers, invited him to audition for their new Broadway musical, 'Too Many Girls.' Arnaz and Lucille Ball, six years his senior and already a movie star, met on the set of the subsequent film adaptation. Their attraction was immediate, mutual and intense. But the relationship was tempestuous from the start. The couple were frequently apart — Arnaz touring with his band, Ball making movies — and they quarreled over his sexual peccadilloes. 'I Love Lucy' originated, in part, as an attempt to save their marriage. By then, Purdum writes, both Arnaz and Ball 'had run out their string in the movies and were willing to leap into the still-untested, second-tier medium of television.' The biography offers a fascinating play-by-play of the sitcom's development. The show relied on much of the same staff as Ball's radio hit, 'My Favorite Husband,' including head writer Jess Oppenheimer. Oppenheimer, the showrunner for 'I Love Lucy' in its early years, remained bitter that Arnaz publicly downplayed his contributions. 'Desi had become so used to being underestimated and taken for granted that when it was finally his turn to control the narrative,' Purdum writes, 'he sometimes took too much credit.' Arnaz's own achievements — as this country's first Latino television star and television executive — occurred against a cultural backdrop of condescension and outright racism. He also struggled with his insecurities about playing second fiddle to his immensely talented wife. In the end, though, Arnaz's addictive behaviors were his greatest challenge. He was 'often simply too drunk to function,' Purdum writes. Arnaz eventually got sober, but he died of lung cancer in 1986 at 69. One lifelong friend, Marcella Rabwin, said of Arnaz: 'He was a very serious, wonderful man who felt very deeply.' Purdum's empathetic biography endorses that assessment. Klein is a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia.
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Movie Review: 'Pee-wee as Himself' unmasks Paul Reubens
Some bio documentaries are carried mostly by the reflective, archival footage that send you back to the subject's heyday. But in Matt Wolf's 'Pee-wee as Himself' — as wonderful as much of the archival stuff is — nothing is more compelling than when Paul Reubens is simply himself. Before his death from cancer in 2023, Reubens sat for 40 hours of interviews with Wolf. His cooperation is clearly uncertain and sometimes strained in the film — he stopped participating for a year before talking about his infamous 2001 arrest — and his doubts on the project linger throughout. Reubens would rather be directing it, himself, he says more than once. The man many know as Pee-wee Herman is used to controlling his own image, and he has good reason for being skeptical of others doing so. But beyond that tension over authorship of his story, Reubens is also delightfully resistant to playing the part of documentary cliche. 'I was born in 1938 in a little house on the edge of the Mississippi River,' he begins. 'My father worked on a steamboat.' Talking heads have gotten a bad rap in documentaries in recent years, but in 'Pee-wee as Himself,' nothing is more compelling than Paul Reubens simply sitting before the camera, looking back at us. Pee-wee may be iconic, but Paul Reubens is hysterical. And Wolf's film, with that winking title, makes for a revealing portrait of a performer who so often put persona in front of personhood. In that way, 'Pee-wee as Himself,' a two-part documentary premiering Friday on HBO and HBO Max, is moving as the posthumous unmasking of a man you can't help but wish we had known better. Reubens was a product of TV. He grew up transformed by shows like 'Howdy Doody,' 'The Mickey Mouse Club' and, later, 'I Love Lucy.' 'I wanted to jump into my TV and live in that world,' he says. Part of the delight of the first half of Wolf's film is watching the wide range of inspirations — the circus culture of Sarasota, Florida, where his family moved to; Andy Warhol; performance art — coalesce into a singular creation like Pee-wee. That name, he says, came from a tiny harmonica that said 'Pee-wee' on it, and a kid named Herman he knew growing up. 'It was a whole bunch of things that had never really connected connecting,' says Reubens. Wolf carefully traces the birth of Reubens' alter-ego through the Groundlings in Los Angeles, on stage at the Roxy and then out into the world, on 'The Gong Show,' on Letterman, in the 1985 Tim Burton-directed 'Pee-wee's Big Adventure' and, ultimately, on 'Pee-wee's Playhouse.' 'I felt in a way I was bringing the character out into the wild,' he recalls. 'I just stayed in character all day.' That came with obvious sacrifices, too. For the sake of his career, Reubens stayed closeted as a gay man. He grew intensely private and seldom appeared in public not in character. Reubens also jettisoned some of his close collaborators, like Phil Hartman, as his fame grew. There's tragedy, both self-inflicted and not, in Reubens' increasing isolation. When Reubens was arrested in 1991 and charged with indecent exposure, Reubens' carefully guarded persona came crashing down. The scandal was worse because people knew only Pee-wee and not Reubens. There was also injustice in the whole affair, particularly the 2002 arrest that followed on charges of child pornography that were later dropped. In both cases, homophobia played a role. When Reubens does get around to talking about it, he's most resistant to painting himself as a victim, or offering any, as he says, 'tears of a clown.' Wolf, the director of films like 'Recorder,' about Marion Stokes, who recorded television all day long for 30 years, and 'Spaceship Earth,' about the quirky 1991 Biosphere 2 experiment, is better known as a talented documentarian of visual archives than as an compelling interviewer of celebrities. 'Pee-wee as Himself' would have probably benefited from less one-sided interplay between subject and filmmaker. But Wolf's time was also limited with Reubens and just getting this much from him is clearly an accomplishment. Above all, Reubens says he's doing the film to clear a few things up. In the end, the full portrait of Reubens — including all his playful, self-deprecating charm in front of the camera — add up to a much-needed retort to some of the misunderstandings about Reubens. The day before he died, Reubens called Wolf to say one last thing: 'I wanted to let people know who I really was and see how painful it was to be labeled as something I wasn't.' "Pee-wee as Himself,' a Warner Bros. release is unrated by the Motion Picture Association. Running time: 205 minutes. Three stars out of four.
Hamilton Spectator
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Hamilton Spectator
Movie Review: ‘Pee-wee as Himself' unmasks Paul Reubens
Some bio documentaries are carried mostly by the reflective, archival footage that send you back to the subject's heyday. But in Matt Wolf's 'Pee-wee as Himself' — as wonderful as much of the archival stuff is — nothing is more compelling than when Paul Reubens is simply himself. Before his death from cancer in 2023, Reubens sat for 40 hours of interviews with Wolf. His cooperation is clearly uncertain and sometimes strained in the film — he stopped participating for a year before talking about his infamous 2001 arrest — and his doubts on the project linger throughout. Reubens would rather be directing it, himself, he says more than once. The man many know as Pee-wee Herman is used to controlling his own image, and he has good reason for being skeptical of others doing so. But beyond that tension over authorship of his story, Reubens is also delightfully resistant to playing the part of documentary cliche. 'I was born in 1938 in a little house on the edge of the Mississippi River,' he begins. 'My father worked on a steamboat.' Talking heads have gotten a bad rap in documentaries in recent years, but in 'Pee-wee as Himself,' nothing is more compelling than Paul Reubens simply sitting before the camera, looking back at us. Pee-wee may be iconic, but Paul Reubens is hysterical. And Wolf's film, with that winking title, makes for a revealing portrait of a performer who so often put persona in front of personhood. In that way, 'Pee-wee as Himself,' a two-part documentary premiering Friday on HBO and HBO Max, is moving as the posthumous unmasking of a man you can't help but wish we had known better. Reubens was a product of TV. He grew up transformed by shows like 'Howdy Doody,' 'The Mickey Mouse Club' and, later, 'I Love Lucy.' 'I wanted to jump into my TV and live in that world,' he says. Part of the delight of the first half of Wolf's film is watching the wide range of inspirations — the circus culture of Sarasota, Florida, where his family moved to; Andy Warhol; performance art — coalesce into a singular creation like Pee-wee. That name, he says, came from a tiny harmonica that said 'Pee-wee' on it, and a kid named Herman he knew growing up. 'It was a whole bunch of things that had never really connected connecting,' says Reubens. Wolf carefully traces the birth of Reubens' alter-ego through the Groundlings in Los Angeles, on stage at the Roxy and then out into the world, on 'The Gong Show,' on Letterman, in the 1985 Tim Burton-directed 'Pee-wee's Big Adventure' and, ultimately, on 'Pee-wee's Playhouse.' 'I felt in a way I was bringing the character out into the wild,' he recalls. 'I just stayed in character all day.' That came with obvious sacrifices, too. For the sake of his career, Reubens stayed closeted as a gay man. He grew intensely private and seldom appeared in public not in character. Reubens also jettisoned some of his close collaborators, like Phil Hartman, as his fame grew. There's tragedy, both self-inflicted and not, in Reubens' increasing isolation. When Reubens was arrested in 1991 and charged with indecent exposure, Reubens' carefully guarded persona came crashing down. The scandal was worse because people knew only Pee-wee and not Reubens. There was also injustice in the whole affair, particularly the 2002 arrest that followed on charges of child pornography that were later dropped. In both cases, homophobia played a role. When Reubens does get around to talking about it, he's most resistant to painting himself as a victim, or offering any, as he says, 'tears of a clown.' Wolf, the director of films like 'Recorder,' about Marion Stokes, who recorded television all day long for 30 years, and 'Spaceship Earth,' about the quirky 1991 Biosphere 2 experiment, is better known as a talented documentarian of visual archives than as an compelling interviewer of celebrities. 'Pee-wee as Himself' would have probably benefited from less one-sided interplay between subject and filmmaker. But Wolf's time was also limited with Reubens and just getting this much from him is clearly an accomplishment. Above all, Reubens says he's doing the film to clear a few things up. In the end, the full portrait of Reubens — including all his playful, self-deprecating charm in front of the camera — add up to a much-needed retort to some of the misunderstandings about Reubens. The day before he died, Reubens called Wolf to say one last thing: 'I wanted to let people know who I really was and see how painful it was to be labeled as something I wasn't.' 'Pee-wee as Himself,' a Warner Bros. release is unrated by the Motion Picture Association. Running time: 205 minutes. Three stars out of four.
Winnipeg Free Press
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
Movie Review: ‘Pee-wee as Himself' unmasks Paul Reubens
Some bio documentaries are carried mostly by the reflective, archival footage that send you back to the subject's heyday. But in Matt Wolf's 'Pee-wee as Himself' — as wonderful as much of the archival stuff is — nothing is more compelling than when Paul Reubens is simply himself. Before his death from cancer in 2023, Reubens sat for 40 hours of interviews with Wolf. His cooperation is clearly uncertain and sometimes strained in the film — he stopped participating for a year before talking about his infamous 2001 arrest — and his doubts on the project linger throughout. Reubens would rather be directing it, himself, he says more than once. The man many know as Pee-wee Herman is used to controlling his own image, and he has good reason for being skeptical of others doing so. But beyond that tension over authorship of his story, Reubens is also delightfully resistant to playing the part of documentary cliche. 'I was born in 1938 in a little house on the edge of the Mississippi River,' he begins. 'My father worked on a steamboat.' Talking heads have gotten a bad rap in documentaries in recent years, but in 'Pee-wee as Himself,' nothing is more compelling than Paul Reubens simply sitting before the camera, looking back at us. Pee-wee may be iconic, but Paul Reubens is hysterical. And Wolf's film, with that winking title, makes for a revealing portrait of a performer who so often put persona in front of personhood. In that way, 'Pee-wee as Himself,' a two-part documentary premiering Friday on HBO and HBO Max, is moving as the posthumous unmasking of a man you can't help but wish we had known better. Reubens was a product of TV. He grew up transformed by shows like 'Howdy Doody,' 'The Mickey Mouse Club' and, later, 'I Love Lucy.' 'I wanted to jump into my TV and live in that world,' he says. Part of the delight of the first half of Wolf's film is watching the wide range of inspirations — the circus culture of Sarasota, Florida, where his family moved to; Andy Warhol; performance art — coalesce into a singular creation like Pee-wee. That name, he says, came from a tiny harmonica that said 'Pee-wee' on it, and a kid named Herman he knew growing up. 'It was a whole bunch of things that had never really connected connecting,' says Reubens. Wolf carefully traces the birth of Reubens' alter-ego through the Groundlings in Los Angeles, on stage at the Roxy and then out into the world, on 'The Gong Show,' on Letterman, in the 1985 Tim Burton-directed 'Pee-wee's Big Adventure' and, ultimately, on 'Pee-wee's Playhouse.' 'I felt in a way I was bringing the character out into the wild,' he recalls. 'I just stayed in character all day.' That came with obvious sacrifices, too. For the sake of his career, Reubens stayed closeted as a gay man. He grew intensely private and seldom appeared in public not in character. Reubens also jettisoned some of his close collaborators, like Phil Hartman, as his fame grew. There's tragedy, both self-inflicted and not, in Reubens' increasing isolation. When Reubens was arrested in 1991 and charged with indecent exposure, Reubens' carefully guarded persona came crashing down. The scandal was worse because people knew only Pee-wee and not Reubens. There was also injustice in the whole affair, particularly the 2002 arrest that followed on charges of child pornography that were later dropped. In both cases, homophobia played a role. When Reubens does get around to talking about it, he's most resistant to painting himself as a victim, or offering any, as he says, 'tears of a clown.' Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. Wolf, the director of films like 'Recorder,' about Marion Stokes, who recorded television all day long for 30 years, and 'Spaceship Earth,' about the quirky 1991 Biosphere 2 experiment, is better known as a talented documentarian of visual archives than as an compelling interviewer of celebrities. 'Pee-wee as Himself' would have probably benefited from less one-sided interplay between subject and filmmaker. But Wolf's time was also limited with Reubens and just getting this much from him is clearly an accomplishment. Above all, Reubens says he's doing the film to clear a few things up. In the end, the full portrait of Reubens — including all his playful, self-deprecating charm in front of the camera — add up to a much-needed retort to some of the misunderstandings about Reubens. The day before he died, Reubens called Wolf to say one last thing: 'I wanted to let people know who I really was and see how painful it was to be labeled as something I wasn't.' 'Pee-wee as Himself,' a Warner Bros. release is unrated by the Motion Picture Association. Running time: 205 minutes. Three stars out of four.
