Hey pallies, likes just when we thought we were ready to move on with a ton of cool Dino-devotion that we have been swankly savin' up to share, yet 'nother and perhaps possibly the best yet huge homage of our most beloved Dino by his most beloved partner Jerry Lewis just came our way via google Dino-'lerts from our pallies at Brit Blog, "EXPRESS" where scriber Mr. Peter Sheridan share the almighty awesome article, "Still performing at 90 but Jerry Lewis has never got over the loss of Dean Martin."
Mr. Lewis musta be doin' just a ton of interviews of late with the release of his new big screen release, Max Rose, turnin' 90 a bit 'go, and, of course, the 40th anniversary of his rapturous reunion with our one and only Dino. We were thrilled beyond thrilled to share Mr. Lewis's deepest of deep devotion to our Dino in yesterday's Dino-post, but we are on a even higher Dino-high as we share Mr. Shreidan's wonderful words spoken by Mr. Lewis of his remarkable relationship with our King of Cool.
Yesterday, our Dino-hearts soared to read Mr. Lewis speakin' these words of Dino-adulation, also recorded here...“I fell in love with him the day we met.” Today Mr. Lewis speaks even deeper of his lastly love of our Dino with these most touchin' 'n tender thoughts... “He was a miracle that God put in my life and working with him was a feeling I’ll never ever forget.” Likes Dino-amore just doesn't get deeper than that pallies!
ilovedinomartin shouts out our deepest of deep appreciatio to Mr. Peter Sheridan and all the folks at the Brit Blog, "EXPRESS," for sharin' this incredibly intense interview with Mr. Jerry Lewis that so awesomely accents his on-goin' perfect passion for his partner, our most beloved Dino. To checks this out in it's original source, simply clicks on the tag of this here Dino-gram.
Yours in Dino,
Dino Martin Peters
Still performing at 90 but Jerry Lewis has never got over the loss of Dean Martin
HE HAS survived two heart attacks, prostate cancer, diabetes and chronic lung disease.
By PETER SHERIDAN
He sleeps strapped to an oxygen tank. Yet at the age of 90, two decades since his last leading role, comedy legend Jerry Lewis has returned to Hollywood and is busier than ever.
He stars in the new drama Max Rose, which debuts in the US this week, is writing a new film he plans to direct next year, launches a US comedy tour later this month and hopes to direct The Nutty Professor musical on Broadway.
“I haven’t slowed down at all,” says the star of classic comedies including The Nutty Professor, The Bellhop and acclaimed drama The King Of Comedy.
Yet while his mind is alert his eyesight and hearing are fading and his legs fail him. Lewis gets around by motorised wheelchair and can only walk a few steps with his cane. His spine is bent from decades of pratfalls and he often winces with discomfort.
“It’s hard for me to get out and do things because it’s such an ordeal,” he confesses.
“I’m blind, I can’t hear and I don’t walk too well. I’m having trouble sleeping and my hands fall asleep every 15 minutes or so,” Lewis laughs.
“Every day is another something that comes along. But I am very happy to know that mentally I am very sharp.”
He has been married for 33 years to his second wife Sam, a former dancer 24 years his junior, but still laments losing one of the great loves of his life: his comedy partner Dean Martin.
“I miss Dean,” he says.
“I fell in love with him the day we met. I wish he were here. He was a miracle that God put in my life and working with him was a feeling I’ll never ever forget.”
Together they formed one of the world’s most successful double acts in 17 hit movies, although they parted acrimoniously after a decade in 1956.
“It was time for us both,” he says.
They did not speak again for 20 years. Frank Sinatra staged a rapprochement for Martin and Lewis in 1975 and they remained close until the crooner’s death in 1995. “There isn’t a day I don’t think about him,” says Lewis.
“You can’t write love off or put it on hold. It stays with you until death.”
Jerry's return to movies in Max Rose is not a comedy but more a poignant drama playing an ageing jazz musician forced to re-evaluate his life as he ponders whether his late wife had a long-time affair.
After rejecting thousands of scripts Lewis admits: “I fell in love with the material.”
In the film Max Rose struggles with a strained relationship with his son. This rang true for Lewis, who endured a fraught relationship with his own son Joseph, a drug addict who committed suicide in 2009 at the age of 45.
“To this day I don’t understand it because it’s unfair – not unfair to me but unfair to him,” says Lewis.
“That he went that way made the unfairness stupidity. But he was my son and he’s gone and there’s not a lot I can do about that. You don’t get over it.”
Lewis has starred in more than 50 films and says: “I feel I have been a part of some very wonderful films.”
But there is one that he vows audiences will never see, even after his death. Lewis wrote, directed and starred in The Day The Clown Cried in 1972 but it remains notoriously unfinished, unreleased and unseen.
Lewis and his comedy partner Dean Martin
The film about a Jewish clown who leads children to the Nazi gas chambers during the Second World War has become mythical in Hollywood, branded an artistic folly and allegedly almost impossible to watch.
Will it ever be released? “Never,” says Lewis.
“After I’m dead, in 30 years you won’t see it. I’ve got it worked out so that there’s nothing to show.”
He still receives around 360 movie offers a year, reading the scripts but scorning almost all. His last role was a cameo playing Nicolas Cage’s father in the TV movie The Trust last year. “One day, two hours, done,” says Lewis.
“Nothing important.” Often branded an egomaniacal narcissist he is cantankerous, curmudgeonly and irascible as ever and admits he is “difficult” to work with.
“I am. I expect people who come to the studio to come with the same energy I come with. I’m a selfish man.”
Born Joseph Levitch in Newark, New Jersey, the son of vaudevillians, Lewis earned his very first audience laughs in 1931 at the age of five after accidentally kicking out a stage light. His parents were often on the road and he recalls receiving only “an occasional phone call or a penny postcard” from them.
Abandoned, he felt like “a dummy, a misfit, the sorriest kid alive”.
He compensated by seeking applause and laughter, rising through vaudeville, burlesque and Hollywood to become the king of the pratfall, a rubber-faced clown. The father of seven, Lewis claims to have lost his virginity at the age of only 12 to a stripper.
“She danced with a snake,” he recalls. At 19 Lewis wed his first bride Patti, a singer with Jimmy Dorsey’s band, but as Martin & Lewis found fame he cheated repeatedly on his wife. “This is when I’m ******* everybody in Hollywood,” Lewis admits, numbering Marlene Dietrich among his conquests.
After a marathon sex session with Marilyn Monroe he claims: “I was crippled for a month.”
Though Lewis harkens to a bygone era of slapstick humour he remains revered as a comic genius in France, where he hopes to direct his next movie.
“It’s a marvellous idea,” he says. “And when I put it on paper it’s going to be terrific.”
Outside France, professional respect has been harder to come by. The Oscar that sits above the TV in his Las Vegas neocolonial mansion is not for acting or directing but is the Academy’s humanitarian award.
The 90-year-old has been married to Sam for 33 years
For 44 years Lewis hosted an annual telethon, which raised more than £2billion for muscular dystrophy. His pratfalls came at a price however: three spinal surgeries, years of painkillers and years in the 1970s he has called a complete blackout. In many ways despite his infirmities he is healthier today, having quit his five-pack-a-day cigarette habit in 1982.
Lewis feels energised by live performances, eagerly anticipating his forthcoming US comedy tour.
“The laughter is wonderful,” he says. “I love it. You walk on the stage and you are reborn. I need the applause.”
And he laments life’s inevitable final curtain. “It’s almost over,” he says.
“That hurts. It hurts to say that. It hurts to think I’m not going to see my friends, my family, for much longer.”
Yet he still has much that he wants to achieve. “I want to be here a little longer,” he says – and prays for just a few more years.
“I’m 90. Maybe four or five would be nice. I’ve got so much to do."