Oh God, the guy playing Gleason just attempted a "Bang, Zoom!" It was pitiful. But I suppose it isn't really his fault. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes for anything. Trying to play Gleason for this actor must be like me trying to be Elvis; not mimic Elvis or mock Elvis, but actually be what he was. Today's actors have spent so much time trying to "internalize" their characters, to "submerge themselves" in their roles, to "play small," they've Method-acted their way out of any ability to understand what Larger Than Life means. Can you imagine Keanu Reeves trying to play Charlton Heston, or Charlie Sheen trying on Spencer Tracy? The poor schlemiel is simply in over his head.

Johnny Cash is another one. I had the pleasure of actually performing onstage with the man. He showed up at one of my band's shows and, when I dedicated a tune to "the Man in Black" (not realizing that he had written the damned thing), he strolled up to the stage and stuck out his hand. I took it, stammering who-knows-what silly-assed babble. He said, in that inimitable voice, "Ya sound real good, son." I swear to God he was at least 7 feet tall, I know he was. I saw him years later in New York performing at The Ritz (not the old one, the one uptown). The crowd actually booed him when he asked for a round of applause for the flavor-of-the-month from the Nashville Hat Squad who opened the show, and who he was bringing up onstage for the grand finale. I was initially pretty pissed at New York for that, but eventually I realized that they weren't booing Johnny so much as they were booing the very idea of Johnny taking a moment of his valuable time to try to stand this dwarf up on his shoulders. It was kind and considerate of Johnny, but it was also wasted effort. I can't even remember the guy's name, and I'd bet that nobody else who was there that night does either. He was in over his head too.

A great Gleason story: once in the early goings of The Honeymooners (a show I'd still rather watch than just about anything else on TV now), Gleason and the rest of the cast got handed a script which was just simply not good enough. Since Gleason never bothered with rehearsals, he, Art Carney, and a couple of the writers decided in the hour and a half or so they had before airtime to head back to The Great One's apartment and write a new script. They sat around for a good while scratching their heads and coming up with exactly zippo. Finally Gleason decided that maybe they'd come up with something if they were sitting in a bar rather than around his kitchen table. Needless to say, they ended up sloshed. They got back to the studio and drunkenly improvised the whole segment, start to finish. On national TV. Gleason was sure he'd be fired immediately. The whole cast was looking at the want ads for work before the klieg lights had even cooled off.