Bud Cort

The producer of "Ted & Venus" (at the Royal) has called it the "spiritual sequel" of "Harold and Maude." Ironically, Bud Cort was as appealing in that the milestone comedy as he is repellent in this film, which suffers seriously from a discernible point of view--and which also marks his directorial debut.

Could these two men have less in common: the slight, kinetic Russian, with chiseled cheekbones and regal bearing, and the older guy sporting sunglasses and a black leather jacket, his receding thatch of hair dyed platinum, emanating a major whiff of irony? Meet Vladimir Malakhov, international dance sensation, and Bud Cort, the actor who shot to cult status 27 years ago in the film classic "Harold and Maude."

The voice is raspy and reedy, like a crone's, and the bitchiness showered on everybody is outrageous. This is radio, folks, and the actor is Bud Cort, bringing you the voice and invective of Truman Capote, who returns from the Great Divide to chat about his life and his friends (tonight, 8-9:30 p.m., KCRW, 88.9 FM).

Bud Cort sits in a Hollywood cafe, wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and flip-flops and picking at a bagel. One could almost mistake him for a Gen-Xer on summer vacation, even though he became a generational icon a quarter-century ago. He's still best known for his role as a suicide-obsessed rich kid in "Harold and Maude," a 1971 cult film that turned him into a kind of midnight movie poster boy. For many viewers the quirky film--and Cort's wry, imploring performance--have proven unforgettable.

Could these two men have less in common: the slight, kinetic Russian, with chiseled cheekbones and regal bearing, and the older guy sporting sunglasses and a black leather jacket, his receding thatch of hair dyed platinum, emanating a major whiff of irony? Meet Vladimir Malakhov, international dance sensation, and Bud Cort, the actor who shot to cult status 27 years ago in the film classic "Harold and Maude."

Bud Cort sits in a Hollywood cafe, wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and flip-flops and picking at a bagel. One could almost mistake him for a Gen-Xer on summer vacation, even though he became a generational icon a quarter-century ago. He's still best known for his role as a suicide-obsessed rich kid in "Harold and Maude," a 1971 cult film that turned him into a kind of midnight movie poster boy. For many viewers the quirky film--and Cort's wry, imploring performance--have proven unforgettable.

I never told Roderick Mann I turned down everything after "Harold and Maude" (Quibbles & Bits, July 5). What I said was I turned down all film offers for a five-year period following the films completion in an attempt to avoid typecasting. Obviously, I have worked since, some very good films ("Why Shoot the Teacher?," "She Dances Alone") and some stinkers (two of which you so kindly mentioned). Personally, I prefer to concentrate on the positive aspects of my career. And the reason for doing the interview in the first place was to publicize a TV movie, not to list my credits.

The Scene: Sunday night's premiere of the new film "Ted & Venus." After a 7:30 screening at the Royal Theatre in West L.A., where the picture opened the next day, guests cruised westward to the Golden Monkey for a reception. (The Golden Monkey is on the no-longer-new Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, where street musicians vie with the musical strains of car alarms for public approbation.

RANDY TURROW DOESN'T FIT MY CONCEPT OF A MOVIE PRODUCER. HE'S 35 years old, a nonsmoker and a nondrinker and has been a committed vegetarian ever since, as he says, the "1971 earthquake convinced me that I wasn't immortal." On the set, he wears a black cowboy hat, jeans and a billowy, long-sleeved white shirt that is reminiscent of some 18th-Century painter.

The Scene: Sunday night's premiere of the new film "Ted & Venus." After a 7:30 screening at the Royal Theatre in West L.A., where the picture opened the next day, guests cruised westward to the Golden Monkey for a reception. (The Golden Monkey is on the no-longer-new Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, where street musicians vie with the musical strains of car alarms for public approbation.

The producer of "Ted & Venus" (at the Royal) has called it the "spiritual sequel" of "Harold and Maude." Ironically, Bud Cort was as appealing in that the milestone comedy as he is repellent in this film, which suffers seriously from a discernible point of view--and which also marks his directorial debut.

RANDY TURROW DOESN'T FIT MY CONCEPT OF A MOVIE PRODUCER. HE'S 35 years old, a nonsmoker and a nondrinker and has been a committed vegetarian ever since, as he says, the "1971 earthquake convinced me that I wasn't immortal." On the set, he wears a black cowboy hat, jeans and a billowy, long-sleeved white shirt that is reminiscent of some 18th-Century painter.

The voice is raspy and reedy, like a crone's, and the bitchiness showered on everybody is outrageous. This is radio, folks, and the actor is Bud Cort, bringing you the voice and invective of Truman Capote, who returns from the Great Divide to chat about his life and his friends (tonight, 8-9:30 p.m., KCRW, 88.9 FM).

I never told Roderick Mann I turned down everything after "Harold and Maude" (Quibbles & Bits, July 5). What I said was I turned down all film offers for a five-year period following the films completion in an attempt to avoid typecasting. Obviously, I have worked since, some very good films ("Why Shoot the Teacher?," "She Dances Alone") and some stinkers (two of which you so kindly mentioned). Personally, I prefer to concentrate on the positive aspects of my career. And the reason for doing the interview in the first place was to publicize a TV movie, not to list my credits.

Incense lingered heavily in the air as cult members wearing silk headbands, caftans and long, long hair swayed to the sounds of YaHoWa 13, a three-man jam band rocking out with guitars and a large gong. The crowd talked about mind expansion and a new era of consciousness, while swirly visuals and flashing lights shone above them. At the end of the night, Sky Saxon, the singer for a psychedelic garage band called the Seeds, took the stage and sang "Give Peace a Chance."

Regarding the Calendar cover of the L.A. Classic Theatre Works' "Babbitt" cast: I have formed a Robert Foxworth fan club (I already was a Bud Cort fan club). I have a lawyer acquaintance who will study this out. Unless I miss my guess, we'll sue. The charge? Illiterate Cropping. DON KUMFERMAN Ridgecrest