Confessions of a Movie Addict by Betty Jo Tucker

From the Publisher

At last, a life story with everything but the movie stuff edited out.

CONFESSIONS OF A MOVIE ADDICT chronicles a love affair with film from the 1930s through the beginning of the new millennium. In addition to revealing personal movie-related experiences, film critic Betty Jo Tucker describes encounters with such veteran actors as Mickey Rooney and Charlton Heston, as well as with current stars like Angelina Jolie, Billy Crudup, Guy Pearce, and Brendan Fraser. This amusing memoir also contains the following ADDED ATTRACTIONS: a Movie Addiction Checklist; a compendium of books and Web sites for movie fans; selected interviews; photos; and reviews (as posted on KOAA Online) of more than 70 films released during 2000 and 2001 A.D.

Warren Epstein, film critic for The Gazette in Colorado Springs, writes, “I hate Betty Jo Tucker. As a fellow Colorado film critic, I’ve loathed her for years. Sure, you can call it professional jealousy. But see it from my perspective. We all go to a film festival. Most of us get an article or two out of it. Betty Jo gets an adventure. She ends up being served dinner by the filmmakers, for heaven’s sake! Well, now I have to put up with her new book, Confessions of a Movie Addict, and, believe me, it’s about as Betty Jo as it can be. She takes us behind the scenes of the entertainment industry, sharing her favorite celebrity interviews and revealing her personal connections and passions for the movies. As if we care. (OK, the mishap at her first porn film had me laughing. But just a little.) You’ll probably read this book and fall in love with Betty Jo. Fine! See if I care.”

Liz Larrabee, author of Random Pieces: Vignettes from the Thirties and Liz Larrabee’s Book, says, “Betty Jo’s passion for movies, the insights she brings to her reviews and interviews, and her marvelous talent for taking you right along with her into the theater make Confessions of a Movie Addict a must-read-—even for non-addicts.”

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My problem began with Frankenstein. I remember being a frightened six-year-old hiding under the seat at Clyne’s Theater in Pueblo, Colorado, hoping for protection from that scary monster on the big screen. Despite my terror, I couldn’t stop peeking. Both horrified and amazed, I became hooked on movies then and there. This addiction continued throughout my childhood and adult life. I even fell in love with my husband because he resembled a certain handsome actor, and we named both our children after movie stars. As I enter my seventies, I’m still a practicing movieholic. Luckily, because I write film reviews now, I see more movies than ever.

During grade school, my cousins and I spent most of our weekends at the Clyne and the Avalon, two movie houses located across the street from each other in a working class neighborhood called Bessemer. Both theaters always scheduled a double feature plus “added attractions” which included one cartoon, a serial, film previews, and a newsreel. Wide-eyed, we enjoyed every offering while gorging ourselves on popcorn, Milk Duds, and ice cream bars. Sometimes we went from one “picture show,”which is what we called the theatres then, directly to the other. We were insatiable when it came to movies and goodies.

When we were a bit older, we hopped on a streetcar for a bumpy ride to one of the downtown cinemas. We loved the Chief because of its lavish red and gold interior-but preferred the Main’s more buttery popcorn. The Colorado usually offered a double feature which was hard to resist. And sometimes we stopped off at the Mesa Junction to take in another flick at the Uptown, famous for its “bank night” giveaways.

Reacting to my obsession with film, my mother actually tried to land me a part in a movie. After hearing about MGM’s search for a young girl to star in National Velvet, she sent the studio a picture of me on a horse. Unfortunately, that role went to Elizabeth Taylor, who sells perfume now. I recall she appeared earlier in Lassie Come Home, a film I didn’t get to see all the way through. Because Ruella, my sensitive little sister, made too much noise sobbing over the collie’s misfortunes, we had to take her home in the middle of the movie. I forgave her—-a few years later.