View from F6617 at the Royal Sands, Cancun, Mexico.
Today is April 15th.
It was predicted that it might rain here (35%), so I made an appointment at the spa (massage). Prior to that, we enjoyed the sun poolside. As mentioned previously, it has been windier and cooler this week.
I have managed to finish off 3 books and am currently reading a copy of “The Godfather” that someone left on the freebie bookshelf, because, in the wake of completing “The Last Kings of Hollywood” I am interestedin revisiting the source material for Francis Ford Coppola’s masterpiece. It is interesting to hear how he came to make the film in the first place, and how he and Mario Puzo collaborated on the script while holed up in Reno in a hotel.
Puzo was a novelist, but not a screenwriter and, after the original movie hit it big and there was talk of sequels, he thought he should, perhaps, learn more about writing a screenplay. He checked out a book on writing a screenplay and, within it, found praise for his script for “The Godfather,” written when he knew nothing about the actual craft, so he shut the book and soldiered on. One of the anecdotes that both Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo’s son mentioned in the Introductions fo the book was the note that Puzo made (to FFC) that Mafia members “don’t brown; they fry.” I don’t know why this particular “note” was seen as significant, but the entire book about Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas depicted these three titans of Hollywood and told so many interesting stories.
At La Isla Mall on April 14th.
But the thing that stood out, for me, was how influential the women in their lives had been, but how most of the wives or girlfriends had to shelve their own dreams and aspirations in order to support their husbands or boyfriends. It was the old “Stand by your man” mantra. Eleanor Coppola, who died in 2024 after a 14-year fight against a chronic disease for which she refused to do chemo, was, herself, a director of documentaries and had many other goals. Her book, written from her journals, about the making of “Apocalypse Now” really made an impact on me when I read it upon its initial publication. She talked frankly (and intensely) about how FFC, while filming for 17 months on location, had an affair and lost massive amounts of weight. What she didn’t share was that her husband since 1963 had been seeing Melissa Matheson, Oscar-nominated screenwriter of “E.T.” for the better part of 7 years, a well-known “secret” that most of Hollywood knew, even if Ellie did not.
Eleanor Coppola (1935-2004) in 2023.
I sat down and wrote to Eleanor Coppola (who wrote me back), expressing my admiration for her no frills style and her interesting content. I had never written to anyone before, and—aside from David Sedaris—I have never written to anyone since.
My snail mail letter was full of praise for the book. I learned that the rest of Hollywood was not quite as forgiving, as they viewed it as a sort of “revenge” piece, retaliating for FFC’s affair (although she did not name “the other woman.” I recognized Melissa Matheson as the woman who became the eventual wife of Harrison Ford (she did not write the “E.T.” screenplay until much later when encouraged to do so by Steven Spielberg). Matheson died at age 64 in 2004. (Harrison Ford, of course, went on to marry Calista Flockhart years later, but they were divorced at the time of Matheson’s passing.) Marcia Lucas, George Lucas’s first wife, was a talented film editor who greatly enhanced his films during their partnership.
It seemed that FFC would go to Matheson to hear encouraging words and praise. She is described as soft-spoken and calm (probably a good listener.)
Director Francis Ford Coppola.
But Coppola was reluctant to break up his marriage—spurred by Eleanor’s pregnancy in 1963—and dragged his feet on any kind of rupture of his Italian family, which originally included children Gio, Roman and Sofia. The death of their firstborn son, Gio, because of the rash driving of a speedboat by Griffin O’Neal (son of Ryan O’Neal, but not the son of Farrah Fawcett as I may have erroneously assumed in an earlier piece—that son was Redmond) is covered and obviously deeply impacted both Coppolas. Nothing worse than the death of a beloved child, and Gio was learning his father’s craft and moving up in the world.
It’s a good read, if you’re interested in the movies and these titans of the Hollywood film industry. It explains how the “auteur” films of the 70s will not be allowed to return, as we now have to have “tentpole” movies with built-in audiences, as it is all about the bottom line.
Having just heard Steven Spielberg speak for an hour in Austin, and having heard Coppola speak at the Chicago Theater for my birthday last July, I really enjoyed the book.
Today was Tuesday and I had to return to the nail girl to finish my pedicure. She is a very nice young girl, but possibly the slowest nail technician I have ever met. I also have never seen a nail technician use their own finger to smear something sticky on the nail fill acrylic area. Nor have I ever had brown mud and salt rubbed on my forearms. I was asked to remove all of my jewelry. Fat chance of that! I haven’t had my wedding ring off my ring finger in years. My ring finger was jumped on back in high school when playing intramural basketball (thanks, Judy Postel!) and the joint buckled backwards and is now permanently enlarged. For a while in the 60s I wore a brace thing to try to force my ring finger to lie flat.
We went to La Isla tonight to an Italian restaurant that has been in business for 40 years, Cenacola. We had a hard time finding it, as our cabbie failed to mention that there were 2 La Isla Mall sections and we were wandering around floor 2 of the wrong part.
We’ve been coming to Cancun since about 1990.
This year my son has his 17-year old twins and two of their friends, Joy and Jesse, and we have our daughter and her fiance, Will, in our unit. Son Scott also has his mother-in-law in tow and there was one day of shopping and there has been one day at the spa for a massage.
named Ricardo pointed out that buying into the then-new Royal Islander would give us almost 30 years of time before Mexico took it back, while the Mayan clock had been ticking for a while. He was right.
We returned from Mexico (Cancun) on April 23rd and now we are battening the hatches in our Manchaca residence until the Family Fest, which usually coincides with the Fourth of July, which is only a couple of months away. (Plus, we come down earlier to help get ready for it.)
