According to IMDB, O'Toole has two projects with future or indefinite release dates. While it is still possible that he could technically win an Oscar for one of them, I have little hope of that happening.

Katherine of Alexandria and the saddest potential final credit since Bela Lugosi, The Whole World at Our Feet
Yeah, that was eloquent writing on the part of Lane. I've read his reviews in the New Yorker for years. He's quite the able film critic. That's a nice tribute to O'Toole.
I'm just picturing O'Toole floating down onto Harris, Burton & Reed's cloud, harp and halo into toto, all, "hello...BOYS". Man, I wanna be there. Except for the dead part.

The Finest Man That Ever Breathed:…

Wow. Such writing.
Such a loss.

I remember seeing Lawrence of Arabia on TV many times growing up. I was always bored with it, all chopped up with ads on the small screen. Then when the Cinerama reopened, they did a screening of it there. Wow! If you ever get an opportunity, I highly recommend seeing it on a huge screen like that. So beautiful. Some of the desert scenes will just knock your socks off on a big screen. It is a slow movie by today's standards, but the pacing was quite nice when seen properly in a theater. Seeing it at the Cinerama made it one my favorite movies of all time.
@4: I was just thinking of that line!
The last line you excerpted is the best.
What exquisite prose! At such an obituary, given the eloquent writing, even angels may weep...and they should...
Whenever I'm having a bad week, I pray that when the New Yorker comes, the film review will be by Anthony Lane. He is my favorite writer at The New Yorker, and there are more than a few amazing ones there, obviously.
My favorite Peter O'Toole story, which is probably about Richard Harris instead but who cares, is the time a young friend met him in a West End pub, where they proceeded to spend the afternoon getting completely snockered. As it started to get dark, O'Toole suggested to his new friend that they visit the theater, which they did, and were enjoying the play quite well from the balcony, when suddenly O'Toole leapt up, shouted, "Oh my God, that's my cue" and ran down to the stage and performed flawlessly.

One of the great drinkers of all time. How he ever survived his brethren drunkards Burton, Harris, and Oliver Reed, I'll never know. Rest in peace.

Please wait...

Comments are closed.

Commenting on this item is available only to members of the site. You can sign in here or create an account here.

Add a comment

By posting this comment, you are agreeing to our Terms of Use.