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| Remembering Kell |
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Passing of a Viking spirit
J.R.Keith Keller, who proudly bore the sig Kell and exalted in the title of Variety Scandinavian bureau chief until the position was abolished, died April 8 in his native Denmark. He was 79.
Kell had suffered over a long period with a mysterious and relentless illness that his doctors were unable to fully understand but which caused him extraordinary anguish. He was nursed throughout by his wife Karen. He never wished his illness to be reported on Sime’s site.
Born in Copenhagen, Kell started his journalistic career writing reviews of film musicals for Scandinavia’s biggest afternoon daily, the Swedish Expressen, while also writing features for two monthlies dedicated solely to jazz.
After the Second World War, KK worked as publicist for a band, then took a desk job with AP, first in Paris then in Belgium. After military service as a lieutenant in the intelligence service of the Danish army, in 1953 he took a job as assistant to the theatre and film editors of the Copenhagen daily BT, where he eventually became chief film critic.
In 1956, Kell joined Variety as Scandi stringer, and in 1984 became the bureau chief for Scandinavia. He ankled Variety after its sale in 1987 and joined The Hollywood Reporter, where he remained until 1995.
Among Keller’s published works are Strolling the Beach (a collection of short stories published in 1950); Three Houses in Hayama (a novel,1955); The Griffin and His Friends, (1964), La Belle Agnes”(a novel written in English, 1988), Oh, Jess!”(a bio of jazz pianist Jess Stacy, in English, 1989) and Karen Blixen and the Movies (a docu/monograph on Isak Dinesen, 1999).
Kell valued beyond measure his “elevation” to the rank of mugg. Cultured and erudite, he genuinely loved Variety and regarded as a privilege the opportunity to be a contributor to what he believed was the bible of American popular culture –although he howled loud and often at the low pay and the way his somewhat literary copy was handled in New York. Towards the end of his writing career he joined The Hollywood Reporter where he was able to keep his international trade readership duly informed about Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland and other territories.
You can access Kell's contributions to Sime’s site if you use the search engine above. Just type in “Kell” and hit Enter to bring up a menu of his items.
Below are some recollections of former colleagues who knew him to be a formidable journalist who not only knew his stuff but could get industry leaders on both sides of the Atlantic to pick up the phone.
IN A WORD . . . IMPRESSIVE
By PETER BESAS
He was one of the muggs in Cannes, but I could never seem to pin him down. He hardly ever attended any of the meetings we held in Cannes, usually in Syd’s suite in the Carlton, and at best I’d see him racing about excitedly from one screening and interview to the next, up and down the rue d’Antibes, hurrying along the Croisette, waiting impatiently on the press line at the Palais, scurrying about the press boxes in the morning.
He always seemed to be in a hurry, never had time to sit down over a coffee, so avid was he to catch the latest filmic magic and file his review for Variety.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to know Keith better until I finally button-holed him and induced him to join me for a quick lunch at his favorite eaterie opposite the Palais, for the purpose of picking his brains for a guide (which later ran as a section) I was preparing on world film festivals.
It was only then that I realized the breadth and depth of Keith’s knowledge, not only on films, but on so many other subjects. Several years later I again interviewed him for Inside Variety, at which time he recalled some of the more amusing episodes – including the account of Norma and the Mouse, which you can see if you click here. Again I was struck at the breadth of his knowledge.
We then coincided in Manila for the International Film Festival held there, and joined the same memorable boat trip organized by Imelda Marcos that took us to Corregidor and Puerto Azul. I still have a framed photo of Keith, smiling and bending slightly, standing next to “the first lady” at a gigantic party thrown on the opening night of the festival, in which my wife and I also appear. On his request, I sent him a copy of it about a year ago.
Gradually, I came to know that Keith had also written a good number of books. Novels, short stories, biographies. He presented me with an inscribed copy of the one on jazz when it was published.
He was a font of information on modern literature, and bubbled over enthusiastically about the old ,New Yorker and private eye novels. He seemed as familiar with American literature as he was with French, English and Danish books and writers.
New facets of his interests kept on surfacing, and now re-reading the very long piece he filed for Simesite on “Food, Friends & Fascination” I am once again impressed by the scope of Keith’s knowledge and passion for everything from gastronomy to jazz.
This passion and knowledge was an integral part of his make-up, and he carried his erudition nonchalantly: perhaps it was something he took for granted in any well-educated person, journalist or friend. Even when he dropped an occasional expression in Latin, or repeated some well-known phrase in French, it rolled off his pen so naturally, always treating the reader as an equal, that it never came across as stuffy or stilted.
Of course, I didn’t then know of his varied background, his stints with different news organizations, his travels to the Far East, his work in the military, his passion for all that was good in New York, meaning in his case, the jazz joints, the bookshops, the delicatessens, and of course the old Variety office on 46th Street.
In the summer of 2001 I took a pleasure trip to Scandinavia, stopping off two days in Copenhagen. Keith was already very ill and often in pain, but he roused himself and, accompanied by Karen, came to pick me up at my hotel.
We spent the day together, taking a car trip to some of the nearby sights, and I was again struck by his graciousness, his courage in confronting his illness, and the scope of his interests. We dined in one of his preferred exclusive restaurants talking about anything and everything, including some of his experiences during the German occupation of Denmark. We talked, of course, about his days at Variety and the traumatic, peremptory way he was “downsized”.
That was the last time I saw him. But when Sime’s site was started we began corresponding more frequently. It must have been an enormous physical effort for him to drag himself to the computer; sometimes he had to stop in the middle of a missive, and take it up again the following day.
Keith then poured out to us an almost epic-length reminiscence of the old Variety, staffers whom he had known and admired on the sheet, favorite restaurants around the world, and a long miscellany of other subjects.
The piece ran under the head: “Foods, Friends & Fascination.”
Even after editing still ran so long that the news desk had to break it down into four different sections. Keith also sent us a bunch of other copy.
Keith’s passing, like Jack Pitman’s, impresses on us our own mortality, but also the consoling consideration that having known him, even if only fleetingly, has enriched our lives. Kell will share a merited niche in that pantheon of muggs that made the old Variety great. He will be fondly remembered as long as any of us is still around.
KEITH'S MEMORY ENDURES
By FRANK SEGERS
For someone I didn't know all that well, Keith Keller remained through the years a surprisingly persistent and affectionately recalled presence. His name and memory – I hadn't seen Keith since the late ’80s when he left Variety to work for The Hollywood Reporter – had a way of cropping up unexpectedly.
In researching an article on Robbert Wijsmuller, for example, I accidentally stumbled on an authoritative and smoothly written special report on the boss of the Hague-based Concorde Film compiled for the Reporter by Keith in May 1992.
I have to think that May was always a favorite month of the late Dutch distrib and of Keith himself since both flourished at the Cannes Film Festival, which traditionally starts in mid-month. My last information about Keith was that despite his longstanding and debilitating illness, he attended Cannes for as long as he physically could.
One of my most persistent memories of Cannes is the sight of Keith and his most attractive wife, Karen, swirling with grace and style across the dance floor at some swank Carlton Hotel bash circa 1985-6. Mrs. Keller confirmed the obviousness of a personal observation on my lone visit to Copenhagen some years earlier – that is, I never saw a larger concentration of good looking women in any one spot anywhere, ever.
Keith was undoubtedly a power in Scandinavian show biz thanks to his role as a critic/writer for the bigtime Danish newspaper BT and because of his international connections as Variety's Copenhagen-based Scandinavian bureau chief. Keith was a visible reminder of the superb, editorially potent international staff that Variety developed and nurtured up until the end of the ’80s.
Despite his local eminence (perhaps because of it) Keith always emerged as a warm, genial, modest and embraceably personable presence. He spoke fluent English, of course, but in a somewhat stilted manner that evoked an ethnic comedy routine of the ’50s. Even though he wasn't Swedish, Keith would have fit right in with the rest of the cast of tv's "I Remember Mama."
Our biggest bond, if that is the word, was our mutual love of jazz. Copenhageners were (perhaps still are) notorious jazz enthusiasts. Keith was more than that. He was a genuine expert.
One year, he surprised me by announcing that his new English-language biography of swing-era pianist, Jess Stacy (best known for his association with Benny Goodman), was due out shortly. And sure enough, a copy of Oh, Jess! A Jazz Life arrived at my house a few months later (published by The Mayan Music Corp., 1989).
It occupies an honored spot in my office bookshelf, not least because of the back cover photograph of musician Stacy in animated conversation with Keith, seen in broadly smiling profile.
(Interestingly in today's times, I always got the feeling that Keith loved America and Americans.)
Keith, grinning a little less broadly, also stares down from the office wall in a marvelous international staff photo portrait (preserved by Peter Besas) taken in the mid-Eighties at MIFED in Milan. Keith stands immediately to my left, next to John Willis, the London-based ad representative with whom Keith worked on various Sandinavian projects. Good company.
Keith, go in peace. I know you'll keep the beat.
THE ONE-MAN ARMY COVERING SCANDINAVIA
By MORT BRYER
Swedes will usually readily admit that, of the two, the Danes are the more likeable. Danes, I sometimes say, are Latin Scandies, more easygoing, not taking life too seriously and with a passion for good grub and good beer. And they smile more than Swedes.
My late wife, Gunnel, a Swedish citizen (she never opted to become an ersatz Yank) and I were in Malmo, the Swedish city directly opposite the lovely Danish city of Copenhagen (Kobnhavn in Danish) and I decided to take the ferry over and check out Variety 's Copenhagen office and chat with its Scandinavian bureau chief, Keith Keller, whom I had met on several occasions both at fests and markets in Europe and also in the New York office.
He had a cozy little office, directly off The Stroget, Copenhagen's upscale shopping street, which oddly enough, is quite narrow and more like an alley than a street or an avenue.
Keith was his usual jovial, kindly self and as I recall (this all occurred in about '84 or '86) was a one-man army, covering all of Scandinavia and organizing our stringers in Stockholm, Oslo and, I think,Helsinki. Sort of a Nordic Peter Besas, who not only covered Iberia, but far-flung places,like all of S.America, Mexico, even Puerto Rico.
We all went out and feasted on some of those wonderful open-faced Danish so-called sandwiches (smorebrod), each one a meal in itself, washed down by the wonderful Danish suds that the Danes export all over the semi-civilized world – one of their main claims to fame. (They let the Swedes flog autos, fighter planes and assorted weapons of mayhem. Old timers may recall the famed Bofors anti-aircraft cannon, used by both sides, during WW2, a nifty weapon that knocked down many a Kamikaze).
But getting back to Keith: we had a very pleasant few hours and when Keith was set to split for home he proudly took us around a corner to a tiny parking space and said, glowingly: "I have my own parking spot!" Finding a
parking spot in that area of Copenhagen,is on a par with finding one in the London theatre district. Proud as punch, Keith was.
THEY WAY HE TOLD 'EM
By SID ADILMAN
My fondest memory of Keith was his unintenionally amusing attempts at U.S. jargon. To me, he often talked in an old-fashioned shortcut Varietyese and, I think, believed that Americans really talked that way.
Mixing than with his own accent and language was quite something.
He was gentle and kind to this Canadian when we met at Cannes. And he wrote with passion about his
area's films.
ON VISITING KELL IN COPENHAGEN
By FRANK MEYER
I was music editor in 1977 when I went to the CBS Records convention in London and tacked on my two-week vacation for a trip to Scandinavia. I started in Copenhagen where I have family, some of whom Keith knew; it's a big city, but not that big. He dragged me around and introduced me to lots of people, took me for lunch in Tivoli Gardens and to a film screening.
No one could forget that screening; though I can't remember the pic, a U.S. comedy. I will never forget sitting in an otherwise-empty screening room with Keith as I laughed uproariously and he hardly cracked a smile. He was reviewing for his main blatt and I figured he'd clobber the film, but when it was over, he turned to me and said: "That was really very funny."
He also introduced me to a couple of jazz clubs, accompanied by my cousin and his wife.
When I left, I asked him whether his then wife, a chief flight attendant for SAS, could get me the door seat in coach on the Boeing 747 going back to N.Y. He said he'd ask her and when I got to the office discovered she had had me bumped to first class, a flight with food and wine I still recall.
We met on and off over the years in New York, Cannes and Milan and always got along well. When I went to Copenhagen in 2002 to start a cruise, his wife told him I was on the phone and he came on only to tell me he just couldn't physically make it into town to see me. Maybe when the ship returned.
Alas, when we spoke again the situation was the same and he would not allow me to come to the house. That was the last time we spoke.
Rest in peace, Keith.
KK’s GOLD STANDARD
By RON HOLLOWAY
Keith Keller, a man of gracious manners and gentle humor, once told me at Cannes that being a Variety mugg was worth gold.
He loved looking at films and writing about them. Festivals, too, were his thing. Once, when I couldn't fit the Austrian Viennale into my schedule, I suggested Keith as a possible replacement.
Vienna became for him a regular junket after that.
My condolences to Keith's wife Karen. A gentle lady, too, and a delight to have around.
A RARE STEP IN THE WRONG DIRECTION
By JACK KINDRED
Perhaps it was part of his Scandinavian character that he never talked about his many accomplishments, at least not to me, as I worked with him over the years at the Berlin Film Festival.
Among the accolades to Keith not mentioned in the previous recollections was that he had been a war correspondent for Scandinavian publications in the Korean War. He was based
in Tokyo, covered the war on the scene, but returned to Japan on weekends, flying back and forth to the war zones.
That was once of the few things I learned from him during his coverage for the Berlinale, a task for which he was invaluable, having great insight on Scandi movies and super contacts to the Scandinavian film industry.
Variety sometimes invited muggs to a dinner at a Japanese restaurant upstairs at the Berlin Center.The restaurant was decked out with a series of quadrangular runways flanked by little decorate ponds. Keith had the
misfortune to step into one of the ponds in making a shortcut, when the temperature outside was under zero. He just wrang out his socks and carried on with the feast amidst schadenfreude laughter.
When I was the Variety stringer for North German area, Keith always covered
the annual Scandianvian Film Festival in Luebeck for which I was indeed grateful.
Bye bye, Keith, It was great knowing you.
THE MAN I KNEW
By JOHN WILLIS
I first met Keith Keller back in the 60s. I was the publicity director on The Heroes of Telemark and Keith, representing the popular Danish newspaper
BT, turned up in Rukan in Norway in minus 30C temperatures to interview Kirk Douglas and Richard Harris.
If memory serves me right, we were together aboard the ferry in the film when Sir Winston Churchill's funeral was held and there was a service aboard.
Our paths crossed many times over the years but, of course, our closest connection was at Variety. Keith, always immaculately dressed, was an industrious stringer before becoming Scandinavian bureau chief after leaving BT. He loved films and he zealously guarded his entitlement to review Scandinavian films, particularly those selected for Cannes.
He loved good food and fine wine and he had a great affection for English tea. I well remember on more than one occasion his battle with waitresses to have the beverage presented precisely to his taste.
On more than one occasion I was welcomed to Keith and Karen's home just outside Copenhagen. She and the family will miss him.
Desk Webcentral -- Apr 11, 2004 |
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More from this Mugg |
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Keith Keller – writing for Variety was his pride and joy,
See Kell with group of other muggs click here |
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