The most amusing aspect of the Associated Press story reporting that Charles Durning has received a star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame doesn't stem from the notion that the burly, much-beloved character actor (known in many circles as "that guy who isn't Brian Dennehy") somehow fits the definition of a star.
It's not the fact that Durning proudly proclaimed, "I never thought this would happen...I was hoping this would happen in my lifetime and it did," as though this was the greatest thing that could happen to any actor, a distinguished award previously bestowed to the esteemed likes of Chad Everett, Jamie Farr and Jan Murray.
No, the funniest aspect of the AP's report would have to be this sentence: "A who's who of actors joined Durning at the ceremony, including Ed Begley, Jr., Jon Voight, Angie Dickinson, Joe Mantegna, Gary Sinise, Elliot Gould, Lee Purcell and Doris Roberts."
Wow! That's some glittering assemblage of mega-watt star power, all right. I'm surprised Voight could take time away from writing crazy right-wing op-ed pieces to show up, but his presence, like that of Dickinson and Gould, might have been a big deal if this was 1972. And honestly--Lee Purcell? I'm fairly well-versed in Hollywood arcana, and even to me, she's pretty much a non-entity--her most notable credit is co-starring in the endearingly stupid Charles Bronson vehicle Mr. Majestyk.
I'm in no way attempting to disparage Durning, who has turned in yeoman work for such great filmmakers as Brian DePalma and Sidney Lumet, and hey, the guy played Doc Hopper in The Muppet Movie, so he's automatically aces in my book. It's just that this whole silly ceremony seems to have extended far beyond its shelf life, a remnant of an era when the notion of stardom carried a certain cachet. Now it's just a hollow ritual, enacted by ghosts of the past and breathlessly reported as news by the AP, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
