“It doesn't matter what you do...so long as you change

something from the way it was before you touched

it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.”

Fahrenheit 451

Ray Bradbury

As one gets older the deaths of many of the people

who formed the cultural landscape of your youth 

start to add up. I always watch the clip at the 

Academy Awards show of actors who have 

passed away with some interest and much sadness.

As the death of Ray Bradbury in June of 2012 the

death of the great stop motion animator Ray Harryhausen

today at 92 was a great loss from that landscape. The two men

were lifelong lifelong friends and as with Bradbury's stories

Harryhausen's films were a great joy to me and influenced 

my choice of the books and films I love today.

There are many tributes to Harryhausen on the web today so

I will not repeat the information here. 

Some years ago Ray Harryhausen spent some time at the

Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller Alberta upon learning

that he would be giving a talk and sign films Helen and I 

rented a car and went off to spend a weekend with friends in the

area, one of whom worked at the museum, thanks Tim, Laraine 

and of course Helen. Ray gave a talk, showed his figures of  

sword-fighting skeletons from Jason and the Argonauts 

the chess playing baboon from Sinbad and the Eye of the 

Tiger, and I think the Medusa form Clash of the Titans. He also 

patently signed VHS tapes, okay it was a while ago, the event

poster mine is framed and in the basement, and in my case 

he also signed the dedication page of Bradbury's A Graveyard 

for Lunatics which had a character based on Harryhausen and

was dedicated to, among others Ray Harryhausen.

So I have put together some photos of items fron my collection.

The Cyclops from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad and two of

my favorite of Ray's  films.

“I'll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog 

that ever was; I'll make a voice that is like an empty

bed beside you all night long, and like an empty

house when you open the door, and like trees in

autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying

south, crying, and a sound like November wind and

the sea on the hard, cold shore. I'll make a sound that's

so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it

will weep in their souls,

                                                             From the story The Foghorn by Bradbury

                           which became part of Ray’s film

                         The Beast from 20 Thousand Fathoms

Talos from Jason and the Argonauts.
The small figure is the Ymir from 20
Million Miles to Earth.

My signed copy of Graveyard. 

Goodbye Ray you brought myth  and magic
to life and gave pleasure to a lot of people.

"Once upon a time there were two cities within a city.

One was light and one was dark. One moved restlessly

all day while the other never stirred. One was warm

and filled with ever-changing lights. One was cold

and fixed in place by stones. And when the sun went

down each afternoon on Maximus Films, the city of

the living, it began to resemble Green Glades cemetery

just across the way, which was the city of the dead.

As the lights went out and the motions stopped and

the wind that blew around the corners of the studio

buildings cooled, an incredible melancholy seemed

to sweep from the front gate of the living all the way

along through twilight avenues toward that high brick

wall that separated the two cities within a city. And

suddenly the streets were filled with something one

could speak of only as remembrance. For while the

people had gone away, they left behind them

architectures that were haunted by the ghosts of

incredible happenings.

For indeed it was the most outrageous city in the

world, where anything could happen and always did.

Ten thousand deaths had happened here, and when

the deaths were done, the people got up, laughing,

and strolled away. Whole tenement blocks were set

afire and did not burn. Sirens shrieked and police cars

careened around corners, only to have the officers peel

 off their blues, cold-cream their orange pancake makeup,

 and walk home to small bungalow court apartments out

in that great and mostly boring world.

Dinosaurs prowled here, one moment in miniature,

and the next looming fifty feet tall above half-clad

virgins who screamed on key. From here various

Crusades departed to peg their armor and stash their

spears at Western Costume down the road. From here

Henry the Eighth let drop some heads. From here Dracula

wandered as flesh to return as dust. Here also were the

Stations of the Cross and a trail of ever-replenished blood

as screenwriters groaned by to Calvary carrying a

backbreaking load of revisions, pursued by directors

with scourges and film cutters with razor-sharp knives.

It was from these towers that the Muslim faithful were

called to worship each day at sunset as the limousines

whispered out with faceless powers behind each window,

and peasants averted their gaze, fearing to be struck blind."

                              
  from A Graveyard for Lunatics

                                         Ray Bradbury