Arnold Schwarzenegger, budding film stars, puffs on his pipe like a banker on
\nholiday and sends leisurely little clouds of smoke in the air. “Let me tell you something,” he says.
\n“‘Conan the Barbarian’ is the first movie I can watch myself in. I never could before.” For a former
\nMr. Universe, accustomed to scrutinizing himself in mirrors with the professional vanity of a body
\nbuilder, that must be an embarrassing admission — though to judge from his most recent TV role
\nas Mickey Hargitay in “The Jayne Mansfield Story,” it is not difficult to believe. Yet
\nSchwarzenegger tosses off the remark with a certain pride.<\/BLOCKQUOTE>
\n<\/P>
\n
Now he’s taken seriously as a candidate for California governor<\/FONT><\/STRONG><\/EM><\/A>? <\/P>
\nAnd what about Bill Murray? I’ve admired him for years, mainly for his subversive
\nsense of humor. Now he’s being touted for an Oscar nod, long denied him, for the
\n“revelation” of his “subtle, aching, witty
\nperformance<\/STRONG><\/EM><\/FONT><\/A>?” (Free registration required.)<\/EM> I
\nrecall an interview I did with him in Chicago in 1981. It began:<\/P>
\n
\n
When George Hamilton went on a publicity tour several years ago for “Love
\nat First Bite,” he took along his Count Dracula cape and at each stop climbed out of a
\ncoffin. Bill Murray doesn’t have to go to that length for his new film “Stripes.” He simply
\nhas to roll out of bed. At the Pump Room the other day, Murray looked less like he had just
\nstepped off a plane from New York than out of his starring role as Winger, a sad sack rescued
\nfrom civilian life by the Army. He was lunching at the VIP table with the white telephone and
\nwore scuffed sneakers, creased pants and a sweater that barely hid the design on his T-shirt.
\nDay-old stubble darkened his chin. His red-rimmed eyes were bleary from lack of
\nsleep. When the waitress in the tuxedo jacket lit his cigarette, behind her gracious smile seemed to
\nlurk the thought: “We’re all kidding, aren’t we?”<\/BLOCKQUOTE>
\n<\/P>
\n
On top of that, I see <\nSTRONG>Yoko Ono may go naked for
\npeace<\/FONT><\/STRONG><\/EM><\/A> today in Paris. I recall an article in an avant-garde
\nliterary magazine I edited — this goes back to 1968 — that led off with a photo of her in a nude
\nhappening by Jean-Jacques Lebel at an underground film festival in Belgium. There she is,
\nunidentified and full frontal, competing for the title of “Miss Festival.” It’s satire, of course. One
\nof the contestants, with a luscious body, wears a sign: “Hors concours” (meaning
\n“Disqualified” or, more to the point, “No contest”). Yoko’s sign reads: “No. 9” — and she’s
\nholding it sideways.<\/P>
\nAll this makes me feel like Rip Van Winkle. I think I’ll go take a nap.<\/P><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What is Arnold Schwarzenegger doing making bigger news than ever? This guy was yesteryear. For me, he has built-in nostalgia. I recall an interview I did with him in Chicago in 1982. It began: Arnold Schwarzenegger, budding film stars, puffs on his pipe like a banker on holiday and sends leisurely little clouds of smoke […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-369","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-main","7":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbvgEs-5X","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/369","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=369"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/369\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=369"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=369"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/herman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=369"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}