THURSDAY. NOVEMBER 1.1962
allons au cinema
Everything
By VINCE YOUNG
Collegian Reviewer
What ever happened to Baby
Jane Nelson? Well, when she was
just seven years old she was the
“child star of vaudeville." When
she was thirty she was Holly
wood’s greatest actress. Now,
she’s pushing the age of antiquity,
and she’s : a mean old witch, j
Baby Jane also has a sister,
Blanche. She’s crippled, though.
She was run'- over by her. big
sister during one of Jane’s more
violent- temper tantrums.
There’s also a certain movie
producer named Robert Aldrich
who -must have seen “Psycho" a
do;>en or more times. He’s' like
Hitchcock with a touch of car
bolic acid.
i THIS GHOULISH Mr. Aldrich
has just completed a macabre
little exercise in horror entitled
"Whatever Happened-. To Baby
Jane?”
As our nasty Baby Jane we
have Bette Davis; as our invalid
Blanche we have Joan Crawford
and as a cinema catalyst we have
Girls,
Especially those
. who: want a pretty,
new hairdo,
call
Aurand’s Beauty Shop
New cdllege Diner
Downtown- Between the Movies.
- - ‘ ' 1 - '
HAVE YOU BEEN TO
DEAN'S
WALK-IN
(Corner of Pugh 8c Beaver)
- ~ IF- NOT . . .
LOOK
HAMBURGERS
15c
THICK SHAKES
20c
FRENCH FRIES
10c
We Cash Student Checks
Penn State Jazz Club Workshop
Ken Kuhn ,
Bob Streeter
'// on
s - 'v™
%Corl Lindsay
on
Bass
Sunday, Nov. 4 14
Happens to 'B. J!
a thoroughly nail-bite inducing
script from a novel by Henry
Farrell.
The situation is like this: Baby
Jane and Blanche Nelson retire
from IJie screen and take over a
stylish Hollywood mansion by
themselves.
Baby Jane blames her sister
for being crippled, and a psy
chotic 30-year feud begins. This
feud consists of several unspeak
able acts committed by BJ
against her helpless sister. She
also picks on the maid—with an
ice pick!
In the meantime, Blanche re
mains an invalid in her room.
She doesn’t have much chance to
improve, however, for everytime
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= STATE COLLEGE
featuring
Ken Kuhn Quintet
HUB Ballroom
THE DAILY COLLEGIAN. UNIVERSITY PARK. PENNSYLVANIA
she gets in the way, Baby Jane
kicks her back under the table.
As you can see, this is all very
frustrating for Blanche, who is
also getting tired of being fed
fried rats for lunch every day.
THE BIGGEST trick of all,
however, is how anyone could
coax such horrifying perform
ances out of Miss Davis and Miss
Crawford. And the greatest trick
is how Bette Davis, made up like
The Great Pumpkin, manages to
pull;, off the most chilling role
of all.
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Alto Sax Ja
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| 233 S. ALLEN At the Top of. the Hill - |
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GLOOM AT THE TOP
Oh, sure,, you’ve been busy, what with going to classes, doing
your homework, catching night crawlers, getting married—
but can’t you pause for just a moment and give thought to that
dear, dedicated, lonely man in the big white house on the hill?
I refer, of course, to the Prexy.
(It is interesting to note here that college presidents are al
ways called “Prexy.'' Similarly, trustees are called ‘‘Trixie.’*
Associate professors are called "Axy-Pixy." Bursars are called
“Foxy-Woxy." Students are called "Algae.")
But I digress. We were speaking of the Proxy, a personage at
once august and pathetic. Why pathetic? Well sir, consider how
Prexy spends his days. He is busy, busy, busy. He bilks to
deans, he talks to professors, he talks to trusteeea, he bdks to
alumni. In fact, he talks to everylx>dy except the one group
who could lift his heart and rally his spirits. I mean, of course,
the appealingest, endearingest, winsoment group in the entire
college—you, the students.
It is the Proxy’s sad fate to be forever a stranger to your
laughing, golden selves. He can only gate wistfully out th«
window of his big white house on the hill and watch you at your
games and sports and yearn with all his tormented heart to bask
in your warmth. But how? It would hardly be fitting for Prexy
to appear one day at the Union, clad in an old rowing blaief,
and cry gaily, “Heigh-ho, chapel Who’s for sculling?"
j] etfk-ho,
No, friend*, J’rexy can’t get to you. It i* up to you to get to
him. Call on him at home. Juat drop in unannounced. He will
natural!v be a little shy at first, so you must [Hit him at hia
ease. Shout, "Howdy-doody, air! I have come to bring a little
sunshine into your drear and blighted life!” Then yank hia
necktie out of his vest and scamper goatlike wound him until
he is laughing merrily along with you
Then hand him a package and say, "A little gift for you, sir."
“For roe?" he will say, lowering hia Ikls. “You shouldn’t
have.”
“Yen, I should," you will say, "because this package to'
a carton of Marlboro Cigarettes, and whenever I think of
Marlboro, I think of you."
“Why, hey?" he will my curiously.
"Because Marlboros have taste, and so do you,” you will
reply-
“Aw, go on,” he will My, blushing furiously.
"It’s true,” you will my. "Moreover, MarlUiro has a filter,
and so do you."
“In my swimming pool, you mean," he will say.
"Yea,” you will say. "Moreover, Marlbpro has a soft pack,
and so do you.”
“My limp leather brief case, you mean," he will My.
"Yes,” you will say. "Moreover, the Marlboro box has a
flip-top, and so do you.”
“But I don’t have a flip-top,” he will My.
"But you will,” you will My. "Just light a Marlboro, and
taste that tasty taste, and you will surely flip your top.”
Well sir, you will have many a good chuckle about that, you
may be sure. Then you will My, "Goodbye, sir, I will return
soon again to brighten your lorn and desperate life.”
“Please do,” he will my. “But next time, if you can possibly
manage it, try not to come at four in the morning.” ,
Frexg and under grad, ntmla and tamale, lata and toon, fair !
weather and foul—all lima* and cllmae and condition* are [
right for Marlboro , tha Kltar cigarette with thg unAUered >
tost*. ’V
QnGampts MttStainan
thor of "I Wai a Tttn-ag* Dwarf, “The .tfany
Lover of Debit GiUit”, etc.)
* • • ~ J -~
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