Don Lafontaine

Don LaFontaine goes to work each morning in style. The most sought-after narrator for movie trailers--he's known in the business as The Trailer King--LaFontaine travels from job to job in a chauffeured limousine. How fast does he work? Look at this way: His limo driver keeps the motor running. "The limo is just more convenient and anyway, it's a write-off," says the 50-year-old veteran narrator, whose deep, smoky voice is the aural equivalent of a juicy sirloin steak.

On the surface, this was a pretty solid year for the movie business. But beneath the surface, things don't look so good. Hollywood is increasingly relying on steadily increasing domestic ticket prices to boost revenues. Fewer people went to see movies in the United States than they did three years ago; those who did go simply paid more. And lots of movies that did well overseas actually fared poorly when released in the United States. What accounts for this? The low quality of movies is a factor, but that alone does not explain the listless mood of the moviegoing public.

Voice-over performer Don LaFontaine barrels into a Hollywood recording studio, snatches a page of copy and crouches in front of the microphone. "Don't miss the most gripppping . . . terrrrifying and nail-biiiiting film of the year," he hisses, his rich, smoky baritone imploring an unseen audience of millions of would-be moviegoers into their seats.

Scott Rummell has a nice speaking voice. It's warm, friendly, clear; pleasant though not particularly striking. But it's Rummell's other voice, rather, his paid, professional voice, the one he turns on when he's positioned inches from a microphone, that has earned him work on "Angels & Demons," "Terminator Salvation," "American Idol" and "Oprah" and the reputation as one of the country's top voice-over artists.

On the surface, this was a pretty solid year for the movie business. But beneath the surface, things don't look so good. Hollywood is increasingly relying on steadily increasing domestic ticket prices to boost revenues. Fewer people went to see movies in the United States than they did three years ago; those who did go simply paid more. And lots of movies that did well overseas actually fared poorly when released in the United States. What accounts for this? The low quality of movies is a factor, but that alone does not explain the listless mood of the moviegoing public.

Don LaFontaine, the highly sought-after voice-over artist whose sonorous-voiced narration on several thousand movie trailers earned him the title of "The Trailer King," has died. He was 68. LaFontaine, who also did voice-over work on countless radio and network television promotional spots and commercials, died Monday of complications after treatment for an illness at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, his family said. The illness was not specified. He was known as "Thunder Throat," "The Voice of God" and "the highest-paid movie-trailer narrator" in Hollywood.

In a world of people who all coyly say "In a world . . . " and everyone gets the joke . . . In a world where the trailers are almost always better than the movies . . . In a world where everything sounds pompous, intense, serious, heart-stopping, but narrated . . . In a world of people who all have some sort of private omniscient voice-over running things inside their heads, sometimes God, sometimes Mom and sometimes Don LaFontaine ....

Scott Rummell has a nice speaking voice. It's warm, friendly, clear; pleasant though not particularly striking. But it's Rummell's other voice, rather, his paid, professional voice, the one he turns on when he's positioned inches from a microphone, that has earned him work on "Angels & Demons," "Terminator Salvation," "American Idol" and "Oprah" and the reputation as one of the country's top voice-over artists.

The Anglican divide Re "Anglican angst," Opinion, Dec. 15 Harold Meyerson is a bit uptight over "conservative" and "traditional" Episcopalians' failure to condone what the Bible condemns. Shame on them for not carrying the banner of liberal lunacy and for shying away from infecting the church with modernity-driven interpretation! For their taking Scripture seriously, rejecting trendy ecclesiastical political correctness and balking at playing church, Meyerson categorizes them as people who deal in "contingent bigotries masquerading as universal truths."

In a world of people who all coyly say "In a world . . . " and everyone gets the joke . . . In a world where the trailers are almost always better than the movies . . . In a world where everything sounds pompous, intense, serious, heart-stopping, but narrated . . . In a world of people who all have some sort of private omniscient voice-over running things inside their heads, sometimes God, sometimes Mom and sometimes Don LaFontaine ....

Don LaFontaine, the highly sought-after voice-over artist whose sonorous-voiced narration on several thousand movie trailers earned him the title of "The Trailer King," has died. He was 68. LaFontaine, who also did voice-over work on countless radio and network television promotional spots and commercials, died Monday of complications after treatment for an illness at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, his family said. The illness was not specified. He was known as "Thunder Throat," "The Voice of God" and "the highest-paid movie-trailer narrator" in Hollywood.

Voice-over performer Don LaFontaine barrels into a Hollywood recording studio, snatches a page of copy and crouches in front of the microphone. "Don't miss the most gripppping . . . terrrrifying and nail-biiiiting film of the year," he hisses, his rich, smoky baritone imploring an unseen audience of millions of would-be moviegoers into their seats.

Don LaFontaine goes to work each morning in style. The most sought-after narrator for movie trailers--he's known in the business as The Trailer King--LaFontaine travels from job to job in a chauffeured limousine. How fast does he work? Look at this way: His limo driver keeps the motor running. "The limo is just more convenient and anyway, it's a write-off," says the 50-year-old veteran narrator, whose deep, smoky voice is the aural equivalent of a juicy sirloin steak.