Oh dear. I somehow missed the news, until today, that Anne Bancroft died last week of cancer. This makes me much sadder than celebrity deaths usually do, not only because she was so good in all her roles, but because I feel so sorry for her husband Mel Brooks, one of my most beloved filmmakers. It has always pleased me that a glamorous woman like Bancroft would marry a goofy, smart little guy like Brooks, and, in the sordid world of short-lived Hollywood relationships, stay with him for 40 years till death parted them. I may very well cherish laughter above all things, as I suspect Mel and Anne always have too, so I hope he can find it again soon.