Best Movies by Farr

On Her Birthday, The Best Elizabeth Taylor Movies By Farr

After Sunday night's dizzying spectacle at the Oscars, let's talk about someone who really defines the word "star".

As a kid, I remember vividly Life Magazine's 1972 cover of Elizabeth Taylor reaching her milestone fortieth brithday, and glimpsing what glamour really meant. This week, incredibly, Liz turns 77. For those who know her mainly from those recurring news stories about her health problems (she has broken her back several times and endured three serious bouts of pneumonia), her fluctuating weight, an unlikely friendship with Michael Jackson, or her fabled eight marriages (she wed Richard Burton twice), you may want to pay extra attention. Because now we will look beyond all the hype, and celebrate Elizabeth Taylor as a highly skilled and accomplished film actress.

First and foremost, this impossibly beautiful performer was, and is, a true product of Hollywood. Moving there from England with her family at age seven, her striking beauty was quickly noticed by the studios, and she was in front of a movie camera by age ten.

The very next year, she had her breakthrough, supporting child star and life-long pal Roddy McDowall in the immensely popular family film, "Lassie Come Home"(1943). During the next three decades, in the midst of a tumultuous, much publicized personal life, she would navigate that trickiest of courses, achieving a seamless transition from child star to ingénue and leading lady.

Here then are my picks for the best of Liz over time:

"National Velvet"(1944)- Taylor's signature juvenile performance is that of Velvet Brown, a girl from rural England who dreams of taking her beloved horse "Pie" all the way to England's Grand National steeple chase contest. Aided by an older jockey (Mickey Rooney), Velvet shows pluck and determination in pursuing that goal, all the while disguised as a boy (no female jockeys were permitted). Shot in glorious early Technicolor, the camera already loves Liz. Aging MGM child star Rooney (another close off-screen friend) was also ideal for the role of jockey Mi Taylor, and actress Anne Revere stands out as Velvet's understanding mother, winning her an Oscar. As timeless family fare goes, "National Velvet" is solid gold, and a must for girls, whether they like horses or not.

"Father Of The Bride"(1950)- Here a blossoming eighteen year old Elizabeth is the center of attention as Kay Banks, a spirited young woman who announces her intention to marry long-time boyfriend Buckley Dunstan (Don Taylor). With this momentous decision and its infinite implications, life for her father, middle-class lawyer Stanley (a brilliantly wry Spencer Tracy), turns inside out. Of course, Stanley's wife, Ellie (Joan Bennett), wants Kay to have the elaborate nuptials she never did, so Stanley finds himself accosted by the exhausting, never-ending business of planning-and paying for- a wedding. A buoyant, big-hearted MGM comedy, director Vincente Minnelli's romp provided the original template for an idea re-made and often imitated, but never quite so charmingly. Minnelli deftly keeps the whole affair-including awkward heart-to-heart talks, a disastrous engagement party and a colossal lovers' spat--from derailing into broad farce. If you're choosing a "Bride," make it the original.

"A Place In The Sun" (1951)-The next year showcased Liz in her most adult role yet, at the center of a sordid, tragic love triangle. For her, it would also mark the beginning of yet another close friendship- with the emotionally fragile, immensely gifted actor, Montgomery Clift. Here Clift plays George Eastman, the proverbial poor relation who gets a job in his rich uncle's thriving enterprise. Lonely and disconnected socially, he begins an affair with factory girl Alice (Shelley Winters). Then he meets gorgeous socialite Angela Vickers (Taylor), and a new world opens up, one that can't include Alice, who now holds something over George. The desperate young man takes drastic measures to seize his one chance at wealth and happiness. Legendary director George Stevens adapted this Academy Award winner from Theodore Dreiser's best-selling book, "An American Tragedy". The cautionary tale still holds you captive, buoyed by potent on-screen chemistry between Clift and Taylor. The young Winters also shines in the most unglamorous of parts, netting herself an Oscar nod; Stevens also won for Best Director.

"Giant" (1956)- Liz's next shining moment came in a movie as big as Texas, and in yet another George Stevens production. In 1922, rancher Jordan "Bick" Benedict (Rock Hudson) marries Southern belle Leslie Lynnton (Taylor), a headstrong beauty who accompanies him home to his million-acre estate, Reata. Asserting herself as mistress of the house, Leslie encounters resistance from Bick's resentful sister, Luz (Mercedes McCambridge), among others. But it's the fortuitous future of churlish, uneducated ranch hand Jett Rink (James Dean) that leaves the biggest impact on Reata and the Benedicts. Based on Edna Ferber's novel, Stevens's vibrant epic about a rivalry that spans decades is every bit as grandiose and visually arresting as it was half a century ago. In his final performance, Dean really hits the mark, playing the noxious Jett Rink--a surly cowboy who inherits oil-rich land and establishes himself as Bick's nemesis--with smoldering angst. Hudson and Taylor offer some of their finest screenwork too, making their often turbulent marital conflicts (especially over Mexican-American workers' rights) equal to the grand majesty of the Lone Star landscape. More than fifty years after its release, "Giant" remains larger than life.

"Cat On A Hot Tin Roof" (1958)- Based on Tennessee Williams's play, this Oscar-nominated drama of familial conflict concerns alcoholic ex-jock Brick (Paul Newman), who refuses to curry favor with his father, Southern patriarch Big Daddy Pollitt (Burl Ives), for a large inheritance. Big Daddy clearly prizes Brick over his older son, but Brick has sired no heirs with ravishing wife Maggie (Taylor). Maggie desires her husband mightily, but Brick is nursing a long-simmering grudge against her, the basis of which is only gradually revealed. This gut-wrenching depiction of a dynastic southern family crumbling from within is propelled by director/writer Richard Brooks's sure hand and a first-rate cast, including Judith Anderson as Big Daddy's long-suffering wife. Newman's Brick is a cauldron of sullen anger dulled with alcohol, while sultry Liz, mostly clad in a white slip, is sexual frustration personified. Ives also delivers a towering performance as Big Daddy. (Trivia note: the portly actor/folk singer in fact won an Oscar that year, but for another picture: "The Big Country".)

"Suddenly, Last Summer" (1959) - Taylor's next winner, also based on a Williams play, would reunite her with Montgomery Clift. When wealthy matron Violet Venable (Katharine Hepburn) enlists Chicago brain surgeon Dr. John Cukrowicz (Clift), to lobotomize niece Catherine (Taylor), institutionalized since the death of Violet's son Sebastian the previous summer, he sets out to discover what happened to the young woman. But the formidable Violet, nursing a dark family secret, seems intent on thwarting the doctor's inquiry. Adapted by Gore Vidal, Joseph L. Mankiewicz's "Suddenly" is rich with lurid atmosphere and smart, biting dialogue. Hepburn is haughty and indomitable as an overprotective mother, while Taylor is rivetingly sensual even in apoplectic fits of distress-witness the climactic flashback scene. Soon it's open to question as to just who should be lobotomized. Mankiewicz handles themes of forbidden desire and depravity with consummate skill, making this a memorable "Summer" indeed.

"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"(1966)-Based on Edward Albee's ground-breaking play, "Woolf" transports us to a nightmare world in the heart of academia. College history professor George (Richard Burton) and his insufferable wife, Martha (a frumpy looking Taylor), invite a young couple for dinner: new faculty member Nick (George Segal) and his childlike spouse, Honey (Sandy Dennis). Making a contact sport out of trading hurtful barbs, George and Martha snap at each other constantly in front of their stunned guests. As the night wears on, the bitter contretemps between the squabbling pair gets progressively uglier-especially when blowsy, gin-soaked Martha mentions the couple's "son." An often agonizing, hilariously warped study of marital dysfunction, "Woolf" was the brainchild of first-time director Mike Nichols and Ernest Lehman, who adapted Albee's scabrous work. Nasty, vicious, and drenched in venomous wit, this is the ultimate Taylor-Burton pairing. (Having won her first Oscar in 1961 for the forgettable "Butterfield 8", Liz received her second Academy Award for "Woolf", followed by an honorary Oscar in 1993.)

Ten years ago, when asked what she would like to see written on her gravestone, this great star replied: "Here lies Elizabeth. She hated being called Liz. But she lived."

Truer words were never spoken.

Huffington Post: When Oscar Screws Up

Just a week remains till this year's fabled Oscar night, and the tension is building. For the first time in several years, we actually have a handful of strong titles in contention, which should make the ceremony's predictably long run time at least count for something.

The very first Academy Awards began much more humbly (sanely, some might say) at Hollywood's Roosevelt Hotel on May 16, 1929. The winners had all been named prior to the event, so nobody had the jitters. People seemed more concerned with the menu, which was elaborate. There was even dancing.

No windy acceptance speeches threatened the evening's bonhomie (ah, for the old days!), except for some brief remarks from Darryl F. Zanuck, who deserved a little airtime, since he'd just introduced the industry to sound pictures with "The Jazz Singer". And the star of that film, Al Jolson, got the first big guffaw in Oscar history when he observed, "For the life of me, I can't see what Jack Warner can do with one of these awards. It can't say yes."

Eighty years later, the Oscars endure, fueled by more hoopla and hype than Barack Obama. Love them or shun them, you can hardly avoid noting their approach. And inevitably, fans root vocally for their favorite stars and films, helping build suspense all the way to the cracking of that envelope seal...

While many thrive on the nerve-jangling expectancy leading up to the event, I personally favor the Monday morning quarterbacking that comes when the lights finally dim on the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. It's then I get my small chance to pinpoint any and all instances when Academy voters fell down on the job and backed the wrong horse.

Given this milestone year, I thought it might be fun and revealing to go back over all those Oscar ceremonies, and focusing on past recipients of the three major awards (Best Picture, Actor and Actress), identify- with full benefit of hindsight- just when Oscar fell down on the job.

So here's my own not-so-humble list. Feel free to correct, amend, and add your own perspectives.

1936 - Inexplicably, "My Man Godfrey", one of our finest screwball comedies, wasn't nominated for Best Picture and should have been, though the film did get nods (but no wins!) in all acting categories. (Another William Powell film, "The Great Ziegfeld", won top prize.) In her only Oscar nomination, Carole Lombard lost out to Luise Rainer. For her work in "Godfrey", she should certainly have won. Worse yet, Chaplin's "Modern Times" received no nominations!

1944 - Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity" should have triumphed over "Going My Way" in the Best Picture category. For that film, Barbara Stanwyck should have won the Oscar, and her co-stars, Fred MacMurray and Edward G. Robinson, should at least have been nominated.

1952 - Cecil B. DeMille's "The Greatest Show On Earth" was a lousy choice for Best Picture. Watch it today and see if you don't want to strangle Betty Hutton and shoot Cornel Wilde. What about the iconic "High Noon" ? Oh, that's right- it was too controversial, drawing parallels to the rampant blacklisting of the time. Phooey! And "Singin In The Rain" should have been nominated (for Best Picture).

1956 - "Around The World In Eighty Days" should not have won Best Picture over "Giant". Also, I'd have awarded James Dean a posthumous Oscar for his final film over Yul Brynner's work in "The King and I". Finally, John Ford's "The Searchers" should have been nominated for Best Picture, and from it, John Wayne for Best Actor.

1960 - Best Picture winner "The Apartment" should have swept the three top categories-both Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine were wholly deserving of Oscars that year. Instead, statuettes went to Burt Lancaster who played it broad (even for him) in "Elmer Gantry", and Elizabeth Taylor in the forgettable "Butterfield 8" .

1964 - Not that I dislike musicals, but Stanley Kubrick's inspired "Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb" should have won Best Picture over "My Fair Lady". Also, for his brilliant work essaying three roles in that film, Peter Sellers should have received Best Actor over "Sexy Rexy" Harrison. (Sweet revenge: Julie Andrews, who'd been passed over for "Lady", won the Oscar that year for a different movie: "Mary Poppins". Studio chief Jack Warner had considerable egg on his face over that one.)

1973 - I love "The Sting", but as the more memorable and groundbreaking film, think "The Exorcist" should have garnered Best Picture. For her gut-wrenching work in it, Ellen Burstyn should also have snagged Best Actress over Glenda Jackson, slumming it pleasantly in "A Touch Of Class". Also, Peter Bogdanovich's "Paper Moon" should have been Best Picture nominated.

1976 - I'd have favored "Taxi Driver" over "Rocky" for Best Picture, and DeNiro over the late Peter Finch in "Network", for Best Actor.

1989 - I'd have chosen "My Left Foot" for Best Picture over "Driving Miss Daisy", or failing that, even "Field Of Dreams".

1994 - "Pulp Fiction" should have triumphed over "Forrest Gump" in the Picture category, and likewise for Actor, "Comeback Kid" Travolta should have trumped "Box Of Chocolates" Hanks. (I never got the appeal of "Gump"...am I alone?)

1996 - I believe "Fargo" should have beat "The English Patient" for Best Picture.

1997 - Top of the world, my eye. More like bottom of the barrel. Either "As Good As It Gets" or "L.A Confidential" should have netted Best Picture before the bloated, dumbed-down "Titanic". Not a proud moment in Academy history. I'm still mad over that one.

1998 - For me, 1998 was a year when foreigners ruled. For Best Picture, I'd have picked "Life Is Beautiful" over "Shakespeare In Love". I'd also have given Fernanda Montenegro from "Central Station" the Best Actress award.

2000 - Come on, you savvy film folks: Steven Soderbergh's "Traffic" was the best film of that year, not that effects-laden, sword and sandals re-tread, "Gladiator". I also thought Ed Harris warranted Best Actor for his incredible work in "Pollack". And for Actress, I'd have picked Joan Allen in "The Contender" over Julia Roberts's cheesy "Erin Brockovich".

2002 - Would have tapped "The Hours" over "Chicago" for Best Picture. Not a stellar year anyhow.

2004 - The often sappy, formulaic "Million Dollar Baby" was overrated, in my opinion. Of the nominees, I favored "Hotel Rwanda", though my favorite film of the year, "Vera Drake", wasn't even nominated. Its star, Imelda Staunton, also deserved Best Actress, I think.

2005 - For Picture, give me "Capote" over "Crash" any ol' time. Another uninspiring year, I thought.

2006 - "The Departed" as Best Picture? With respect to Mr. Scorsese, the original Chinese film on which it was based, 2002's "Infernal Affairs", was both leaner and meaner, with no hammy Jack Nicholson performance to distract you. Either "Letters From Iwo Jima" or "Little Miss Sunshine" would have worked better for me.

This year, I'm rooting for "Milk", "Slumdog Millionaire", and "The Wrestler", in that order. Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets!

A Taste of Lemmon

Jack Lemmon, who would have turned 84 just days ago, had a habit of saying to himself before every take: "It's magic time". This may strike some as mildly eccentric, but I'd remind them that magic is precisely what he then went on to create. Beyond Lemmon’s infectious energy and enormous talent, viewers responded viscerally to the sheer humanity of the man. Jack was never afraid to play vulnerable or neurotic human beings- one sensed he himself was no stranger to these conditions. And over time, his fearlessness in channeling personal pain and conflict into his roles paid off with a slew of indelible performances.

His career turning point came with the classic “Mister Roberts” (1955). Grouped with veteran stars Henry Fonda, James Cagney, and William Powell, Lemmon imbued the supporting role of Ensign Pulver with such humor and zest that he nabbed that year’s Best Supporting Actor Oscar. Though he wouldn’t win the Best Actor statuette until 1974, he’d be nominated for it three times up to that point, and three times after.

For those who want to re-experience this beloved actor’s finest work, here’s my own list of top Lemmon outings:

Some Like It Hot (1959)- Out of work musicians Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Lemmon) snag a job performing in Illinois, only to witness the St. Valentine's Day Massacre after the gig. To escape the gangsters on their tail, the two disguise themselves as female musicians, and head to Florida with an all-girl orchestra. Both men fall for lead singer Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe), but their fake identities prevent them from acting on their desires-at least at first. Long before "Tootsie" and "Mrs. Doubtfire", Billy Wilder gave us this comic, gender-bending masterpiece. Lemmon and Curtis make an ideal comic duo, Monroe sparkles as the object of their sisterly affections, and Joe E. Brown nearly steals the picture as a dotty millionaire besotted with Lemmon (in female form).

The Apartment (1960)- C.C. Baxter (Lemmon), a junior executive in an insurance company, climbs the corporate ladder by lending out his conveniently located apartment for the assignations of his superiors. Complications begin when the young man falls for elevator girl Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), who is also the big boss's girlfriend. Here director Billy Wilder seamlessly blends comedy, romance and pathos in this touching tale of a lonely man forced to confront the corruption of his life just as he falls helplessly in love. With winning performances by all- and a priceless script by Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond- this film deservedly won Best Picture of 1960. Look for Fred MacMurray playing against type as Fran’s married lover.

The Days Of Wine and Roses (1962)- After an initially awkward meeting at a boat party, publicist Joe Clay (Lemmon) and Kirsten Arnesen (Lee Remick) fall madly in love. The social and professional demands of the public-relations racket are nothing new to Joe, but gradually he converts Kirsten to his daily routine of swilling cocktails at most any hour. Over time, alcohol becomes integral to the young newlyweds' relationship, and threatens to destroy their life together. A downbeat love story pickled in bile and booze, this melodrama of addiction by the great Blake Edwards skirts the same terrain as "Lost Weekend" without ever getting preachy. Charles Bickford lends terrific support as Kirsten's widower father, as does Jack Klugman in a small role as Joe's AA sponsor. "Days" is a hard-hitting drama about love in the ruins, buoyed by Henry Mancini's melancholic jazz score.

The Odd Couple (1968)- When fussy, uptight Felix Unger (Lemmon) is thrown out of the house by his wife, he wanders the streets of New York in a depressive funk. Concerned about his best friend's mental state, the already divorced Oscar Madison (Walter Matthau) invites Felix to move in. Horrendously mismatched, Oscar and Felix are soon at each other's throats. Based on Neil Simon's award-winning Broadway play (in which Matthau also starred), "The Odd Couple" was the second and best pairing of real-life buddies Lemmon and Matthau, and spawned a long-running TV series. The inspired premise of a platonic, male love/hate relationship is best realized in this, the original film, with Lemmon's meticulous, melancholy Felix counter-balanced by Matthau's gruff Oscar, a carefree sportswriter who gives new meaning to the word "slovenly." In particular, don't miss the hilarious scenes with the duo's upstairs neighbors, the Pigeon sisters.

The China Syndrome (1979)- To the consternation of her bosses, ambitious TV reporter Kimberly Wells (Jane Fonda) wants to get away from doing cheesy lifestyle segments and latch on to a serious story. She inadvertently finds one when she and cameraman Richard Adams (Michael Douglas) go to cover a day in the life of a nearby power plant, and witness some frightening irregularities. Not surprisingly, the powers-that-be don't want their cover blown on these life-threatening issues, but senior plant official Jack Godell (Lemmon) won't accept a cover-up. This timely nail-biter is effective not only because director James Bridges gets all the fundamentals right, but because its explosive subject matter would soon hit home with a terrifying real-life incident at the Three Mile Island nuclear plant in Pennsylvania. Lemmon's Godell is a shattering portrayal, for which the actor received an Oscar nod, and Fonda is appealing and believable as a journalist who wants to be more than a pretty face. Co-star Douglas also produced.

Missing (1983)- Tragic fact-based story of writer Charles Horman (John Shea) who disappears while covering political persecution in a South American country. His father Ed (Lemmon) travels there to locate him, or at least discover what happened to him. Charles's wife Beth (Sissy Spacek), who knows much more than Ed about real conditions and practices there, sets aside past issues with her father-in-law to push for the truth. Director Costa-Gavras's first American made film is a stunning political thriller, elevated not only by the ring of truth but a shattering Oscar-nominated performance by Lemmon. His Ed Horman is an imperfect father but a good American, who feels betrayed by the country he trusted, but also by his failure to make peace with a son he never fully accepted. Spacek makes the complex character of Beth her own, and we feel immense sympathy for this odd couple as they grope for answers they won't enjoy hearing.

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)- As a "cold" real-estate market dampens prospects, motivation consultant Blake (Alec Baldwin) challenges the sales staff at Premiere Properties to a pointedly competitive contest: find buyers or lose your position. Shelley "The Machine" Levine (Lemmon), once a star huckster, can't seem to cut a break, and with a daughter in the hospital, becomes increasingly frantic. Meanwhile, egotistical Ricky Roma (Al Pacino) appears to be thriving amid the gloom, while beleaguered colleagues Dave Moss (Ed Harris) and George Aaronow (Alan Arkin) resort to a criminal scheme to get ahead. But who really wins and loses in this cutthroat set-up? Director James Foley's lacerating drama, adapted from David Mamet's Pulitzer Prize-winning play, is equal parts Arthur Miller and bald critique of Reaganomics-gone-bad. The terse dialogue, dreary office setting, and fist-gnawing sense of competition all push this stylish film into dramatic overdrive. Yet the heart and soul of "Glengarry" belongs to the tremendous ensemble cast: Arkin, Harris, Baldwin, and Pacino deliver stellar work, and Lemmon is brilliant as the achingly pathetic Levine. Edgy and dark, "Glengarry" endures as a potent film about white-collar desperation and the instinct for survival.

George Carlin And "The Aristocrats" - A Best Movie By Farr?

It's always a small joy when PBS periodically unveils a new program that reminds us all what smart, engaging television is like. Prime example: "Make 'Em Laugh", a six part series that traces the evolution of comedy from several different angles and perspectives.

By far the most revealing episode thus far addresses the bold, courageous comics who in their times dared to stretch the definition of what constitutes "acceptable" humor, focusing on the edgy work of groundbreaking figures like Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, and George Carlin.

When one considers the sheer guts it takes simply to get up and try to amuse people, the fearlessness of a Lenny Bruce becomes even more striking. Although his persona emanated a sort of willful self-destruction, there was always a noble cause at stake: a freedom of comedic expression that's too easily taken for granted today.

Like the stark images of past discrimination against African- Americans and the gay community (brought back to haunt us by the riveting "Milk"), it seems unthinkable that less than half a century go, police were literally planted in nightclubs where Lenny performed, ready to disrupt his act and arrest him at the first utterance of a four-letter word. And he knew it, but went on regardless.

All the major stand-up talents that have emerged since that time stand on the shoulders of that brilliant, troubled man. And as "Make 'Em Laugh" astutely reminds us, comics everywhere are attuned to this, because they recognize that the fundamental fascination of comedy lies in how far it can be stretched into absurdity, even nihilism, and in discovering what happens when it bumps up against the opposing force of prevailing social mores. For most any comedian worth their salt or vinegar, the very essence of their craft lies at this tricky intersection.

Back to Carlin, whom I miss more with each passing day. By focusing on the power of words to affect us, George may have done more to advance the Lenny Bruce legacy than anyone else, with the possible exception of Richard Pryor. Carlin's gift lay in his indirection: his inspired language play planted the idea that demystifying all we could not say could actually help neutralize its power over us. George brought liberation, helping us free ourselves from the shackles of polite conversation. He took the curse off being naughty.

This brings me to "The Aristocrats" (2005), a documentary that lets us in on one of the most unique and (up to this point) untold jokes in history, one that only comedians know and reserve for themselves. Why? Because its humor lies not in the punchline, but in the body of the joke, and involves improvisation that busts through any and every taboo, including public defecation, bestiality and incest. Thus, it quickly arrives at that previously mentioned juncture where for many, humor stops and smut begins.

In the film, George Carlin does his own wonderful pass at the fabled joke, along with countless other funny men and women, including Sarah Silverman, Drew Carey, and Paul Reiser. With each different rendition, we sense the reverence and even affection the joke holds for the teller, at the same time fully appreciating why it has remained a professional secret for so long. It's almost like a form of mental calisthenic for comedians, forcing them into dark, outrageous places they don't ordinarily visit.

I myself found "The Aristocrats" thoroughly engrossing, and very, very funny, but in selecting titles for bestmoviesbyfarr.com, I usually overlay some final attempt at objectivity, asking myself: "I may love it, but will my audience?" It was surprising how many people I met who were turned off by the film, finding it repellent, repetitive, and overall, not a bit funny. Others completely embraced its anarchic spirit. So- feeling conflicted, I hesitated adding "The Aristocrats" to my "go" list.

On recently screening the doc a second time, I now lean towards putting it on the site. My rationale is that whatever your personal reactions to its off-color nature, for those interested in how comedy works and how its practitioners think about what they do, "The Aristocrats" constitutes an invaluable and insightful piece of work. Added bonus: some twisted folks will also find it hilarious.

Before I push the button, tell me, dear readers: am I right or wrong?

Note: See this piece at The Huffington Post: George Carlin And The Aristocrats: A Best Movie By Farr?