Prior to the 1980s I was an actor, dancer, singer, director, and choreographer (and theatre instructor) – almost entirely stage. I abandoned those efforts in favor of making a sustainable living. However, my memories are long and deep. The sad part of live theatre is that it is retained only in our memories. Film lives on for posterity.
Today my daughter stumbled upon a movie I did in 1977 – Hot Tomorrows. Hot Tomorrows is a delightful tongue-in-cheek treatise on death. Watch the finale below and have a ball. It’s done in Busby Berkeley style. Hot Tomorrows was directed by Martin Brest who went on to direct Beverly Hills Cop, Meet Joe Black and the Golden Globe winning, Scent of a Woman, amongst many others in his illustrious career.
In the Hot Tomorrows finale I am amongst the dancers in “42nd Street.” I’m on camera right (yes, you read that correctly – wink, wink). I’m the fourth dancer from the top of the line. As to the rest, not a clue; and it moves too fast and there are too many of us.
In the still, I’m on the very far right. Believe me, this is the only time you’ll find me there.
Our make-up (though hard to tell here) was sunken eyes and our long fingernails were in black to match the black and white cinematography of decades gone by.
The opening sequence has us dancing with lit cigarettes hanging from our mouths. Although I’m now a lung cancer survivor (thanks to cigarettes), it doesn’t diminish my ability to enjoy this, perhaps even more now than at the time it was filmed. After all, the “Grim Reaper” will take us all in due course. Perhaps he will WINK AT US when that time comes.