OPERA REVIEW: DAS RHEINGOLD

Going for the gold in Das Rheingold. Photos by Monika Rittershaus.


A $32 million Wagnerian feast for the eyes and ears.

By Ed Rampell

L.A. Opera’s adaptation of Richard Wagner’s Das Rheingold is the most wildly imaginative live production I’ve ever seen onstage in my entire life.

This ain’t your granny’s opera – you know, the type of straitlaced show where Bugs Bunny runs amok in a hilarious cartoon spoof. So forget about those singers garbed in metal breastplates and horned helmets. This outrageous show, directed and designed by Achim Freyer, has instead the look and feel of avant garde theatre by Vsevolod Meyerhold and experimental cinema by Jean Cocteau (notably The Blood of a Poet) plus sci-fi/fantasy blockbusters, such as Star Wars and Hellboy.

Some opera traditionalists may balk at this fresh presentation of the first of the four operas that comprise Wagner’s The Ring of the Nibelungen, which premiered in 1869 – indeed, on opening night at the Dorothy Chandler I saw at least a dozen audience members in the expensive orchestra section walk out of the 2.5 hour show. In some conventional quarters L.A. Opera came under attack last year for inviting movie directors, including Woody Allen and Billy Friedkin, to helm productions in the hallowed halls of the Music Center. In particular, some aesthetes excoriated David Cronenberg’s The Fly (which he had directed onscreen in 1986), although I personally enjoyed all of these highly creative cinematic-cum-operatic renditions.

I enjoy them just like I enjoyed Das Rheingold, Wagner’s interpretation of the ancient Norse legends. While some old guarders may regard Freyer, a German, to be a Teutonic twit, he rather appropriately bestows a mythological dimension on the production’s sets, props and costumes. Somehow surrealism and expressionism seem to be more appropriate ways to present the mythic than, say, naturalism is. In Freyer’s fanciful vision the Chandler’s proverbial proscenium arch is less the fourth wall than it is an entranceway that takes us beyond the doors of perception, to a mythic realm of gods, giants, dwarfs and other legendary creatures. The set design perfectly expresses the Wagnerian score in the opera’s opening, as billowing black curtains simulate the flowing waters of the Rhine river, where three Rhinemaidens (soprano Stacey Tappan as Woglinde, mezzo-sopranos Lauren McNeese as Wellgunde and Beth Clayton as Flosshilde) frolic and reject the advances of the deformed Nibelung dwarf Alberich (the masked, costumed baritone Gordon Hawkins in his L.A. Opera debut).
With all of this thwarted libido and sopranos floating about, it’s only a matter of time before theft and some serious whacking take place. Valhalla hath no fury like a dwarf spurned, and Alberich brazenly steals the Rhine gold (hence the title) the Teutonic trio had been guarding. With it, Alberich forges a magic ring, and meanwhile, back at Nibelheim, he coerces Mime (tenor Graham Clark) and the enslaved Nibelung dwarf's into creating the Tarnhelm, a magical helmet that renders the wearer invisible and enables him to become a shape shifter. With these superpowers, plus control of the infinite Rhine gold, like a demented James Bond villain or member of the Bush regime, Alberich dreams of world domination.

Utilizing lyrics such as 'Enchanted by gold you’ll be enslaved by your greed,' Wagner’s 19th century work takes on contemporary meaning in the current financial crisis, wherein insatiable Wall Streeters endlessly gobbled up wealth, and there never was enough for the Gordon Gecko “greed-is-good” crowd. And considering Das Rheingold’s themes of power versus love and of ruling the world, it’s no wonder that the Nazis, with their occult obsessions, embraced the music of Wagner (reputedly a notorious anti-Semite).

Other outstanding performers include bass Vitalij Kowaljow as Wotan (more commonly known in Norse mythology as “Odin,” whom – as any self-respecting reader of Thor comic books knows – is Asgard’s top god). Our friend Fricka – Wotan’s henpecking wife, fearful of his philandering -- is ably portrayed by mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung.

In her L.A. Opera debut, soprano Ellie Dehn plays Freia (not Freyer), whose golden apples provide a sort of fountain of youth, and who is the namesake of Friday (the day of the week, not the restaurant), just as Wednesday is derived from Odin/Wotan.

My favorite in the ensemble is tenor Arnold Bezuyen as Loge (aka “Loki,” the god of mischief, in Norse mythology). Achim Freyer and his daughter Amanda Freyer, the co-costume designer, have clad Loge in diabolically clever garb, a sort of scarlet Zoot suit. Bezuyen’s mischief maker is a Cocteauian cross between his satanic majesty and a vaudevillian, and the Dutch singer, who also makes his L.A. Opera debut here, brings great verve to his role.

Often throughout this phantasmagorical, visionary production of giant puppets, sky borne airplanes, gleaming Tolkien-esque rings, flying castles and more, Wagner’s music is overwhelmed. At times, Wagner’s score is subordinated to the fanciful visuals and instead of being a “Wall of Sound” is more like wallpaper. However, in the grand finale, under conductor James Conlon’s baton, Wagner’s majestic music rises to the occasion and there is a perfect symbiotic symmetry between sound and image.

L.A. Opera is presenting the entire Ring Cycle, which will conclude next year and is reportedly costing its weight in Rhine gold -- $32 million. In the meantime, I can hardly wait until April 4, when Part II, Wagner’s Die Walkure, opens, starring Placido Domingo as Siegmund.

Das Rheingold gleams! Das Rheingold is at LA Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., on Sundays March 1, 8 and 15 at 2:00 p.m.; Thursday March 5 and Wednesday March 11 at 7:30 p.m. For more info call 213/972-8001 or log onto www.laopera.com.

THEATER REVIEW: THE THREEPENNY OPERA

Mack the Knife is back in town!

By Ed Rampell

How many pop fans know that Bobby Darin’s Ballad of Mack the Knife, which was a huge 1959 hit towards the end of the Blacklist/McCarthyism era, was actually co-written by a Marxist? Now, playwright and lyricist Bertolt Brecht’s play The Threepenny Opera, with music by Kurt Weill and starring Jeff Griggs as Macheath, is, like Mack the Knife himself, back in town, at the International City Theatre.

So strap on those shoes and rush down to Long Beach to see the most polished production this reviewer has had the good fortune to enjoy since August, when I enjoyed four plays on Broadway.

Okay, okay, so I’m prejudiced – Brecht is my favorite 20th century bard. But this superb musical, directed by veteran director Jules Aaron (including stints at Joe Papp’s renowned Public Theater in Manhattan) with musical direction by Darryl Archibald, plus a stellar cast to – uh – be knifed for is Broadway caliber. The mise-en-scene (which includes the theatrical equivalent of a freeze frame), dancing, singing and above all, Brecht’s biting dialogue and lyrics, are not to be missed. I’ll try to keep the plot spoilers down to a roar for the unfortunate few who have never seen Brecht’s most popular musical (which ran for 2611 performances Off-Broadway in the 1950s, and which – despite its name – has lots of spoken dialogue, as well as singing).

The lecherous, murderous Macheath, aka Mackey and Mack the Knife, heads a ring of criminals, while the cunning conman Jonathan Jeremiah Peachum (Tom Shelton) is the chief of a sort of syndicate of panhandlers. When Mack “weds” his daughter the virgin/whore Polly Peachum (Shannon Warne) at a Bunuelian beggars’ banquet, all hell breaks loose.

The tale, which Brecht adapted 200 years after John Gay wrote 1728’s The Beggar’s Opera, takes place in 19th century London (not Long Beach), as the coronation of the queen looms in the background. As Mack, the muscular Griggs (who went from soap opera to The Threepenny Opera, having played the tube’s devilish Jude St. Clair in the Days of Our Lives) is mesmerizing, an incorrigible, androgynous ladies man, whose dark eye shadow suggests that uber-droogie – Alex (Malcolm McDowell) in A Clockwork Orange.

One can tell that Warne has a classically trained voice, as Polly sings Pirate Jenny and, with another of Mackey’s mistresses, Lucy (Rachel Genevieve, who has a musical theater background), they perform the witty "Jealousy Duet." Mr. and Mrs. Peachum (Eileen T’Kaye) also have a droll number about wayward children, Why-Can’t-They-Song; for all I know, Brecht and Weill inspired Paul Lynde’s delightfully daffy "What’s the Matter With Kids Today" song in Bye Bye Birdie.

Another standout is Paul Zegler, who displays his Second City chops with great comic panache as the corrupt police chief, Tiger Brown. Zegler’s agility belies his girth, with much mirth. Julie Carillo has (like two other male actors) gender bender roles as Ed, one of Mackey’s gang, and as Vixen, a bordello denizen.
Richard Strauss composed the tone poem "Thus Spake Zarathustra" (the monolith music in 2001: A Space Odyssey), but had Strauss lived to see this production’s show stopping rendition of the prostitute Jenny Diver, he may have written another piece called: "Thus Sang Zarah Mahler."

Scantily clad in her scarlet lingerie, the rather aptly musically named Mahler is a scene stealer – not only because of her bawdy sexuality, which shines in the tango number Jenny performs with her ex, Macheath, in "Pimp’s Ballad," but due to Mahler’s vocal virtuosity in "Solomon Song" (and what a Bathsheba she makes!). The smoldering Mahler makes the most of Weill’s raucous music, which combines German cabaret sounds with all that jazz. Weill’s wife, Lotte Lenya, originally played Jenny onstage and onscreen, in G.W. Pabst’s 1931 film adaptation, and Mahler is a most worthy successor to her.

Kudos to the cast, the lovely theatre space, the refurbished lobby – but bravo Brecht, who is the biggest star of this production, his take no prisoners pen dipped in acid, scathingly raking capitalism over the coals back. I’ve always thought that Mack the Knife personified unbridled, unrestrained, unregulated every-man-for-himself capitalism.

Brecht first wrote The Threepenny Opera back in 1928, but its anti-bourgeois sensibility is more timely than ever. As our boy Mackey faces the gallows, the playwright conjures up some gallows humor and takes some jabs at Greek drama, spoofing the Deus ex machina ending of many ancient plays with an out of the blue act of the gods.

I have only one quibble: with the ensemble’s faux British accents, it’s somewhat difficult to follow the lyrics sometimes. The supertitles used at operas per se could solve this problem (but then again, like Brecht, I’m an expert at redistributing other people’s money). But this is minor – it’s certainly easy enough to get the gist of every scene. And this is the only musical I’ve ever seen in Los Angeles that I think should release a cast album. Along with theater lovers, Hollywood talent agents should head for the 710 Freeway to sign Jeff Griggs, Zarah Mahler and the other talents who bring alive what NewsWeek once called “the greatest musical of all time.”

The first production of International City Theatre’s new season is a lollapalooza, full of risqué humor, tough as nails social commentary and glorious music. ICT’s The Threepenny Opera is, to use a Brechtian term, a play of epic proportions. Viva Brecht!

The Threepenny Opera plays Thursdays, Fridays & Saturdays at 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 2:00 pm until March 22 at International City Theatre, Long Beach Performing Arts Center, 300 East Ocean Blvd., Long Beach, CA 90802. For more info: (562)436-4610; www.ictlongbeach.org.

FILM NEWS: PROGIE AWARDS 2009

A scene from Milk.

Milk leads the pack of progressive films

By Ed Rampell and John Esther

Awarded the day after the Academy Awards ceremonies the Progies are the “un-Oscars” annually awarded by the James Agee Cinema Circle – an international group of left-leaning critics and historians -- for the best progressive films and filmmakers of conscience and consciousness.

The Trumbo for Best Progressive Picture: Milk.
The Garfield for Best Actor: Sean Penn
The Karen Morley for Best Actress: Melissa Leo.
The Renoir for Best Anti-War Film: Waltz with Bashir.
The Gillo for Best Progressive Foreign Film: Waltz with Bashir.
The Dziga for Best Progessive Documentary: Body of War and Trouble the Water.
The Adrienne Shelly Award for Opposing Violence Against Women: Changeling.
The La Passionara Award for Positive Female Images: Frozen River.
The Our Daily Bread Award for Positive and Inspiring Working Class Images: Battle in Seattle.
The Robeson Award for Positive Images of People of Color: Trouble the Water.
The Brando for Best Progressive Film Activist: Sean Penn.
The Tomas Gutierrez Alea Award for Depicting Mass Popular Uprising: Che.
The Sergei for Best Progressive Lifetime Achievement Award: Paul Newman.
The Lawson for Best Anti-Fascist Film: Defiance.
The Modern Times for Best Progressive Film Satire: Religulous and War, Inc.
The Orson for Best Overlooked Film: The Real Great Debaters.
The Lorentz for Best Environmentalist Film: Wall-E.
The Pasolini for Best Pro-Gay Rights Film: Milk.
The Lennon for Best Progressive Musical: Cadillac Records.

ELIA KAZAN HALL OF SHAME 2008.

Citations for the worst anti-working class and right wing movies of the year.

Slumdog Millionaire: For its reinforcement of the status quo on mass-es and un-Critic-call levels. And for its colonialist mentality, including refusal to honor or recognize for awards the Indian co-director Tandan Loveleen, and for not compensating the still impoverished Indian children playing impoverished Indian children in Slumdog Millionaire, while the movie amasses millions in profits.

Che: Patronizing and exploitive artsy distortion of the real life and struggle of Che Guevara and the Cuban Revolution. Cultural imperialism, alive and well at the movies.

The Life Before Her Eyes: Orthodox family values in fake free spirit female coed Columbine comeuppance clothing. Or in other words, a woman's place is in the delivery room. Not exactly a road movie, but certainly an anti-abortion mandatory teen motherhood guilt trip. All that's missing are the pamphlet tables in the theater lobbies.

House of Sleeping Beauties: A movie that might have been more aptly titled, Sexually Desirable When Drugged, the film allows lewd elderly director Vadim Glowna to star himself as molester and rapist of a series of nude adolescent slumbering sex slaves, in what may or may not be a fantasy brothel for necrophiliacs. Nothing less than a romanticized and lusty aesthetic portrayal of date rape.

Doubt: African-American mom (Viola Davis) confesses that she does not mind if her son is being molested by a pedophile priest (Philip Seymour Hoffman), as long as he gets to graduate. Will all the mothers in the audience who have ever heard such an idea even hinted at from the lips of a fellow female parent, please raise your hands.


The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: For those black mammies still showing up on the screen, even when they are men.

THEATER REVIEW: IXNAY

Ixnay on the afterlife. Aaron Takahashi stars in latest East West Players production.

Reincarnation can wait – Asian-American style.

Written By: Ed Rampell

Paul Kikuchi’s debut play Ixnay is a charming, delightful, imaginative, droll romp about that rib-tickling topic – death. Or, more precisely, about the afterlife, Eastern style. This new East West Players production joins the ranks of a sub-genre of movies and plays, which are usually comedies (except for those Night of the Living Dead zombie-type pix), about what happens after the Grim Reaper comes a-knocking and it’s time to meet one’s maker, such as Warren Beatty’s 1978 Heaven Can Wait (a remake of 1941’s Here Comes Mr. Jordan) and Frank Capra’s 1946 It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart.

After Raymond Kobayashi’s (Aaron Takahashi) car wreck, he gums up the works at Reincarnation Station #92, a sort of Buddhist or Hindu way station on the road to rebirth, by refusing to proceed to his “Next Life.” Like those contrarians, Herman Melville’s Bartleby, the Scrivener and Nancy Reagan, Kobayashi just says no. Why, pray tell? It turns out that the refuse-nik didn’t enjoy life the first time around, and isn’t too keen on giving it a second chance – especially if he comes back as a Japanese American.

This leads to lots of soul searching about what it means to be an Asian-American. Kobayashi bemoans the role of the model minority, the heavy burden of competitiveness and of being an overachiever. A simple man, Kobayashi is unable to live up to his family’s – and perhaps community’s – stereotypical expectations, making his existence on Earth a living hell.

(I knew a Japanese American woman who had a boring bourgeois job and described the above as being ethnic attributes. As if to prove her point, she was so competitive that she rather remarkably insisted she knew more about films than I. When I reminded her about the many thousands of dollars I’d made covering films in books, publications, a documentary, on the radio, online, etc., and that nobody had ever paid her a red cent for her view of a single movie, she shut up, because, in her materialistic mind set, money trumped all.)

Like the cadavers in Bury the Dead Kobayashi’s passive resistance causes all hell (or heaven, as the case may be) to break out. The holdup wreaks havoc on the other souls in transit to their next life, who are all eager to be born again. Those stuck in a holding pattern include the Chinese-American dentist Dr. Frank Fong (the witty, stereotype spouting Matthew Yang King), Korean-American grandma Grace Kim (humorously played by June Kyoko Lu, whose character packs a wallop – and an even bigger surprise), Filipino hip-hopper Eric Galindo (Dante Basco, who played Rufio in Steven Spielberg’s Hook) and Norton Biggs (Matt Braaten, who amiably and hilariously lampoons the tomfoolery of one of those Asian-phile hakujins -- whites -- smitten by “Yellow Fever” – a favorite EWP target).

And now, a word from our sponsor: The above are joined at the reincarnation center by a character identified as Samoan-American Julie Fotoni. My quibble is not with Ellen D. Williams’ funny portrayal of this character but with the apparent characterization of Fotoni as an Asian American. While Samoans are often lumped into the “Asian/Pacific Islander” category in census-type and other government, etc., records, applications and the like, Samoans are definitely not Asians, nor do they consider themselves to be Asian. They are, like Tahitians and Native Hawaiians, Polynesians, and this point needs to be clarified in the script. Furthermore, there are many more Western Samoans – who live in an independent nation – than so-called “Samoan Americans,” who are from the U.S. territory of American Samoa, where Pago Pago is located. I know, because I lived in both Samoas and have Samoan aiga, or family. (So ixnay on the Asianay for Samoans, especially in a play about ethnic identity – faamolemole, or please.)

Aside from this, Jeff Liu’s deftly directed Ixnay makes a number of extremely pertinent points about race and culture. Of particular interest is Galindo’s droll description of the Asian-American “pecking order” – with Japanese Americans (but where does this leave Okinawans?) at the top and Hmongs at the bottom (although Clint Eastwood’s Gran Torino may have elevated their status).

The racialism is brought to the forefront by Tadashi Ozaki, portrayed with panache by the deliciously, deliriously, wickedly wacky Gedde Watanabe. Ozaki-san does a comic spin on the Valet who shows deceased characters their new digs in Hades in Jean-Paul Sartre’s postwar play No Exit. (Upon introducing the newcomers to what will be their hellish chambers for the rest of eternity, they all ask about fire and brimstone, etc., astonishing the Valet who thinks they should, instead, inquire about more practical matters -- such as the plumbing.) Ozaki has his own racist agenda for insisting upon dispatching the reluctant Kobayashi to his next life as a Japanese American again, much to the nonconformist’s chagrin. Ozaki is served – and undermined – by the angelically white clad secretary Reiko Tanaka, fetchingly depicted by Elizabeth Ho, who is anything but ho-hum.

In the lead role, Aaron Takahashi is an unlikely anti-hero; nevertheless, he doggedly sticks to his guns, even when Ozaki pulls ever dirty trick in the Luciferian book to coerce Kobayashi into returning in his mortal coil as another Japanese American. Like the path towards enlightenment, this satori safari leads to Kobayashi attaining a measure of clarity, self-realization and inner peace. Although this is Takahashi’s EWP’s main stage premiere, you may have seen this understated actor in the Asian American Cold Tofu improve troupe, or in Jim Carrey’s movie, Yes Man.

Kurt Boetcher’s set externalizes the whimsy of the playwright’s flights of fancy, with, quite literally, a stairway to heaven, festooned by playful renditions of heavenly clouds, stylized like so many Katsushika Hokusai woodblock waves writ large.

Pasadena-born Kikuchi developed his play in the East West Players’ David Henry Hwang Introduction to Playwriting Workshop. In addition to being filled with imagination and insight, Ixnay also features topical humor, with perhaps the first Obama, octupulets and stimulus package jokes to find their way into a play. If, like Kobayashi, Kikuchi sticks to it, he obviously has a bright future ahead of him as a bard.

It’s the karma of theatergoers who enjoy thought provoking, frothy comedies to amscray to EWP to enjoy Ixnay.

Ixnay is at the East West Players, David Henry Hwang Theater, 120 Judge John Aiso St. in Downtown L.A.’s Little Tokyo, on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 2:00 p.m. through March 15. For more info call 213/625-7000 or log onto info@eastwestplayers.org.

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: JAY MCCARROLL

Jay McCarroll feels the hot air of fashion.


Project Runaway

By John Esther

As fashion spews its glamorous, conspicuous consumptive self this Sunday at the Academy Awards ceremonies, taking Eleven Minutes to task appears apropos.

Once labeled “The next great American designer” on season one of reality television’s Project Runaway, fashion designer Jay McCarroll is gearing up for his next show.

Chronicling the whereabouts and wear-abouts of McCarrol these days, directors Michael Seiditch and Rob Tate go behind the seams of New York’s Fashion Week to get a look at what makes the cut-throats in today’s fashion industry.

Egos rise and egos fall and nobody will have to mend and sew the fears, fury, fun, and fabrics more than the funny and foulmouthed McCarroll before he gets his eleven minutes of fashion and fame.

We caught up with McCarroll recently to get his thoughts on Eleven Minutes. Some of which may give second thought to those fancy duds paraded along the red carpet this Sunday.


JEsther Entertainment: Where are you in Philadelphia?
Jay McCarroll: I live in South Philadelphia. It’s not LA. Do you like LA?

JE: I do. However I do prefer New York City.
JM: Yuck, that’s the pits. It’s gross. Gross people, gross smells, gross everything. It’s too big. Getting in and getting out. Terrorism. Okay, onto the movie.

JE: Why did you want to be the subject of this documentary?
JM: Well I’m really self-absorbed and really self-obsessed, and I wasn’t going to stop until I became a national treasure. Ha, ha, I better get some new material. I hit it off with the two directors. They followed me around for about 18 months.

JE: How does becoming the subject of a documentary influence your fashion?
JM: I feel my work is probably less inspired because it has a different end result. Before the show I was just making one-of-a-kind pieces. Now everything I put my name on has to be carefully made for more people.

JE: Do you feel it has compromised your art?
JM: No, I don’t think compromise. Maybe streamline sounds a little bit better than compromise – come on. I never set out to be a grand artist, the next Karl Lagerfeld. I don’t care. I do love mass-market stuff, Benetton, the Gap sale rack growing up.

JE: Does the exposure take away from the mystery behind your art?
JM: No, because it’s endless. I could fuckin’ make a collection right now about cactus pineapple drink and diarrhea There’s never just one though in my head. I’m fucking African right now, you know, like Jah. Tomorrow it might be fucking spaceland. Who knows? I don’t worry. I don’t care. Now for the one-note designers, and we all know who they are, they might have a problem with that.

JE: How much involvement did you have in the film? Where you there for the decisions?
JM: Zero. I’m not a filmmaker. I wouldn’t want them saying, “I don’t like the way that hem works.” I’d be, “fuck yourself!”


JE: Was there anything you requested them not to include from the beginning?
JM: Just financial stuff. It’s no one’s business. And there were plenty of conversations about financial stuff. I would have liked to keep that on, without figures, because it is a struggle for young designers just how much money you’re putting out. New York Fashion Week, for this fucking show I wanted to project clouds on the wall. You would think, “Let’s hook a fucking, goddamned fucking” -- my mouth is so bad – “hook a mother fucking, cunt sucking, mother fucking film projector up there and project clouds.” But then you go through the stupid Bryant Park tents, thought their union, and it’s a $150.00 projection that’s now turned into an $8,000 ordeal. “What if it falls down?” You need to take insurance.” For any young designer that extra $7500 could buy fabrics, samples, a model and some many important things for a show. What the fuck was the question? I thought it was interesting.

JE: What did you learn from New York Fashion Week to make it in the fashion world?
JM: You need a lot of money and you need to be able to be, how do I put this: a total fucking cunt. You need to be the biggest, snottiest jerkoff that ever walked the planet. If someone puts cancer in one hand and the “new boot” in the other, you really have to be like, “Humm, this boot is more important.” Just vapid, shallow, mother fucking people.

JE: Do you think it is possible to make it otherwise?
JM: You can. I’m still going to make clothes. That’s the difference between fashion and fashion industry. Fashion is whatever, it’s clothes. Fashion industry is a game; it’s a core group of players. They’re about connections. I don’t want to play the game. I’m too obnoxious. I’m not malleable. Did you like this movie?

JE: Yes, for the most part.
JM: What do you mean, “for the most part”? Boring in the middle, right?

JE: No.
JM: What was wrong with it?

JE: It’s nothing critical against it, but in my line of business I see a lot of films. I have seen a lot of films where a struggling artist is making it in an industry. Usually I am happy for him or her, but that does not necessarily produce compelling subject matter.
JM: Yeah, whatever [Laughs.]

JE: After all you have been through via the media are you still inspired to make clothes for others? JM: No. If I were really trying I’d be depressed. I gave up a little. I don’t want that world. After I won the show, I moved to New York. I spent a year going to parties, meeting Molly Ringwald. And then you stand back and say, “Wow, I’m a country person. I grew up every day looking a pine trees. What am I doing in New York with these fucking people who suck? I don’t want your business card and I don’t want you to have my information.” Once I stepped away from that situation of trying to be somebody, everything became more comfortable.

JE: You were more liberated.
JM: Yeah. So I just do the work I want to do when I want to do it. That fashion industry where you have to be new and fresh every six months sucks. Everything is overlapping and the fun gets lost. I just want to make a shirt you would like. Nothing more serious than that.
JE: What similarities do you see between fashion and filmmaking?
JM: Fucking I don’t know. Filmmaking seems to have more pride. It’s not so disposable. Fashion is so disposable. No one says, “Schindler’s List, that’s such an old story.” But “oh those boots are so out.” It’s so quick. They’re both hard and they both take work.


JE: Since there are comparisons, did you see Unzipped?
JM: I hope this is Unzipped for our generation. I’m a product of reality television. What could be more fucking 2009 than that. Hopefully the documentary can be a tool for students. But like TV, are you a producer for The Maury Povich Show or are you a producer for PBS? Then in fashion, there’s the Donna Karin side and then there’s us who will sit and knit something. It’s still a craft. God, I talk too much. Don’t you just want easy answers?

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: RETO CAFFI

Swiss made: Oscar-nominated director Reto Caffi.

Lost On the Line

By John Esther

A security guard at a department store, Rolf (Roeland Wiesnekker) spends his days watching others. From the floor to the vantage point of multiple cameras with zoom capabilities, Rolf knows his way around the place. A leader who stays calm when others get out of line, Rolf is a symbol of Swiss security.

Yet love is always a glitch in one’s secure domain. For the lonely Rolf, there moves his co-worker, Sarah (Catherine Janke). Rolf spends a little too much time watching her from the eyes in the sky, but he appears harmless enough.

Off camera, Rolf has three primary opportunities to seduce Sarah. The first one is awkward. The second one is tragic. The third is his response to the first two.

One of five live shorts nominated for an Academy Award, Reto Caffi’s 30-minute On the Line (Auf der Strecke) sets up more than one huge dilemma for his protagonist.

Born, raised and educated in Switzerland, Caffi’s short films have won over 50 awards at festivals. In town for the Academy Awards ceremonies this Sunday, we caught up with Caffi to briefly discuss his short film.

JEsther Entertainment: Why did you want to make this film?
Reto Caffi: It was interesting for me to have an impossible love story, to create a situation where there is no real solution. Do you tell the truth and lose the love of your life? How long can you live with your own guilt? I also like to ask questions and put the viewer on the spot a little bit. With this film you could ask a lot of questions that are all around us without necessarily moralizing.

JE: Which of the characters do you identify with the most and why?
RC: With the tragic hero, Rolf. He’s a good guy and makes one little thing go wrong for very understandable reasons. We have a lot of stories in Switzerland, actually, where somebody is beaten up in a train and 10 people watch. This is a whole topic by itself, but I thought by having the whole love story, him being jealous, it makes it so understandable. I find it very personally easy to identify with him and go with him.

JE: The film begins with him watching a woman and ends with him watching a woman, only to have her turn and look at him/us. What were you trying to say about the male gaze in cinema?
RC: This came in the second [stage]. It deals with the concept of being so close but so very far away. We wanted to reflect that on a visual level. It’s a very contemporary thing, cameras everywhere. Give him a profession where he can do that very naturally, not being a creep; he just uses what he has anyway. On top of that he’s a security guard; he’s trained, which makes it even worse! He’s the guy who definitely could have done something. In the end it was a sense of uniting them, getting a sense of closure, but let the movie resonate with the audience.
JE: It is funny you say he is trained. Time and time again he misinterprets what he sees, thus he fails to act adequately.
RC: How many times do we misinterpret what we see? Sometimes it’s not a big deal but, in one case here, it is a big deal. He didn’t want [the man] killed. He could have been the shining hero for the girl.

JE: Instead of looking rather ridiculous in the succeeding comical scene with the conductor (Hansjürg Müller).
RC: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I like this scene. You play with expectations. It provides comic relief. Does this scene actually work for you? In some countries it doesn’t because they don’t have ticket controls. In Switzerland people laugh.

JE: Americans who travel or take the train here get it. How do you think the Oscar nomination has changed your career?
RC: It will definitely get the film and me a lot of attention. But I’m just trying to be realistic. I want to make good films, one after the other. I’m being offered some scripts now, which, to be honest, aren’t very good. When it’s clear whether I am going to do my own script or someone else’s, finances will be easier. The choice and the execution are all up to me.

JE: Do you feel any additional pressure on your next project?
RC: Of course, you want to reach out to an audience. If you want to do something for yourself you can write a diary. If the audiences don’t like it, the critics don’t like it, and it’s a flop, then, of course, I’m going to be devastated. Awards are fine, but the greatness of a film is how people respond.

JE: What is going on in the Swiss film community now?
RC: It’s small. You know the people.

JE: Are there any primary concerns, themes? How does it compare to 10 years ago?
RC: There’s a new generation of Swiss filmmakers. It’s more oriented towards commercial cinema. Sometimes I feel a bit awkward about it, because at the moment, there’s a tendency to copy, to make a Swiss version of Die Hard. It can never be as good; you don’t have $120 million to blow up. In small countries with small budgets you have to make small films about real people. Don’t try to copy the big blockbuster. I feel this is Switzerland’s chance. Denmark is a country that succeeded enormously well in making films without a lot of money, focusing on stories and characters. I don’t want to make silly, stupid films, but I want to entertain people as well and challenge them. You can have both. This is the red line in the middle you have to meet.

JE: And you want to be “on the line”?
RC: [Laughs]. Yes. I’m not really art house. I want peoples’ attention, basically. Getting an Oscar nomination in Switzerland is a big thing. It’s stupid, I don’t want to feel like a candle of hope, but I can feel the enthusiasm for the film.

FILM NEWS: GILMORE LEAVES SUNDANCE

Geoffrey Gilmore.

Director resigns from Sundance, heads to Tribeca

By John Esther

In a surprising move, Sundance Fim Festival Director Geoffrey Gilmore has resigned from his prestigious post. The resignation will take effect February 28, 2009.

Tribeca Enterprises today announced it hired Gilmore as its Chief Creative Officer. Gilmore's move to Tribeca comes after nearly two decades at Sundance, culminating in his role as Director of the Sundance Film Festival.

According to a press statement, Gilmore will be responsible for Tribeca's global content strategy and lead creative development initiatives and expansion of the brand. Gilmore will also join the Board of Directors of Tribeca Enterprises. Based in New York Tribeca Enterprises owns and operates the Tribeca Film Festival, Tribeca Film Festival International, Tribeca Cinemas and other related businesses and initiatives.

The move from the well-established Sundance to the upstart Tribeca will pose new challenges for Gilmore, Sundance and Tribeca.

“I believe that Tribeca Enterprises is well positioned to develop a film organization that can create a new paradigm for the future,” Gilmore said, in a statement today. “The vision of its leadership, its structure and resources, and the track record of its brief history give me great excitement at the opportunity to join their enterprise. I’ve had a wonderful nineteen years at Sundance and will always be grateful to Bob Redford. For me this is a big decision, a huge change and an enormous opportunity.”

Gilmore joined Sundance Institute in 1990. As Director of the Sundance Film Festival he worked as part of a team of programmers who select films for the annual event, which is the most significant independent film festival in the world.

In a seperate press release, "I have both a personal fondness for Geoff that comes from working together for two decades, as well as a deep respect for his encyclopedic knowledge of and total commitment to independent film,” said Robert Redford, President, Sundance Institute and Founder, Sundance Film Festival. "Our Festival’s 25^th anniversary has been a time of candid reflection. I support completely his decision. The timing is right to move on. We wish Geoff only the best as he embarks on the next phases of his life and career.”

Prior to joining Sundance Institute, Gilmore served for 15 years as head of the UCLA Film and Television Archive's Programming Department. He has served as a Visiting Professor both to UCLA and to Florida State University in Tallahassee.

No replacement for Gilmore has been announced.

THEATER REVIEW: THE TRIAL OF THE CATONSVILLE NINE

The Actors’ Gang presents the gripping anti-Vietnam War drama

By Ed Rampell

The mood was set opening night when octogenarian author/activist Gore Vidal rolled up in his wheelchair to Tim Robbins at the Actors’ Gang’s theatre lobby, extending his hand to the troupe’s Artistic Director, intoning the word: “Solidarity.” Inside, in front of the stage, flanked by Robbins and Managing Director Elizabeth Doran, Vidal and another wheelchair warrior, Vietnam veteran Ron Kovic, spoke out against today’s wars before the curtain rose for the evening’s play.

The Trial of the Catonsville Nine is a dramatization of one of the most celebrated acts of resistance against the Vietnam War, which Vidal had been a vocal opponent of. Six years ago this February, at a Sunset Blvd. rally Vidal also spoke out against the then-impending invasion of Iraq as part of the largest mass demonstrations in human history. Robbins, too, publicly opposed attacking Baghdad, and so, in a sense we have gone full circle from Indochina to Iraq -- although the imperial swan song unfortunately remains the same.

While French students and workers revolted in that merry month of May 1968, two priests, Daniel (Andrew E. Wheeler) and Philip Berrigan (Scott Harris), and seven other Catholic activists forced their way into Local Board 33’s selective service office in Catonsville, Maryland, seized 378 draft files and proceeded to burn the records.

The play opens with a pantomiming of this defiant action, while the rest of the production is largely Daniel's free verse dramatization of the court case against the zealous defendants, who came to be called the Catonsville Nine and to help rally the growing movement against the Vietnam War, lending the cause a spiritual dimension.

Like Philip, Daniel has been an apostle of nonviolent civil disobedience, a righteous leader fighting the good fight in the prophetic, liberation theology tradition of the “worker priest” movement. Although it is true that Daniel is indeed a poet and writer, he is first and foremost an agitator for social justice and peace -- indeed, he’s believed to be the “radical priest” Paul Simon refers to in "Me and Julio Down By the School Yard." So Daniel’s 1971 adaptation of the verbally rich trial transcripts are primarily by an activist interested in persuading audiences with a work of agitprop intended to inform and inspire action, not to entertain. Daniel is a prophet first, priest second and playwright third.
A trained bard with a deep dramaturgical background might have been able to take the court’s transcripts and turn the words into theatrical action to be performed on the boards. This was far easier with that other celebrated sixties’ court case, the Chicago 7/8, which was filled with many moments of low comedy, thanks largely to the Yippie antics of Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin, and moments of high drama provided in particular by Bobby Seale, whose demands to represent himself led, unbelievably, to the Black Panther being bound and gagged by the judge. But the Catonsville Nine’s courtroom proceedings had neither the vaudevillian panache or Shakespearian tragedy of their Chicago brethren’s trial. Whereas Daniel’s closing words after the verdict is pronounced are: “This is the greatest day of our lives,” Rubin, with his usual pop cultural flair, likened being one of the Chicago 7/8 defendants to “winning the Academy Award” of activism.

A key commandment of writing for stage and screen is: “Don’t tell me; show me.” The playwright needs to bring the words alive with passion and action. Daniel, however, is more interested in delivering a sermon of the stage that will move the audience to take action against evil, and his rewriting of the trial transcripts results in a play that seems at times to be talky.

But having said that, what wonderful words they are, spoken with great passion and conviction, clarion calls Americans so desperately need to hear today -- and one may add, words expertly delivered by the Actors’ Gang. The dialogue, at times, is poetic, tackling the great moral questions of existence that are the basis of all great art. The ethereal Daniel asks: “What would it mean to be a Catholic” in 1968 America. At times, it’s as if the words tumble off of angels’ tongues or Gabriel is sounding his horn. Philip tells the court the Nine took action “to bear witness, first by blood, then by fire.”

Much to the chagrin of the beleaguered judge (Adele Robbins) the various defendants try to explain how different facets of Washington’s foreign and domestic policy – the CIA overthrow of Guatemala’s reformist Arbenz government (which led Che Guevara to join Castro’s guerrillas), the apartheid-like treatment of blacks at home, you name it – drove them to their civil disobedience. But nothing is more moving than the description of napalm, the burning jelly that indiscriminately burnt women and children, as well as Viet Cong. Stepping into the lion’s den, Daniel declares that the defendants acted “to save the innocent from death by fire.” Another member of the Nine declares: “I wanted to let people live.” One of the two female defendants explains: “I want to celebrate life, not death.”

The Catonsville Nine were true Christians, not the phony kind that had backed George W. Bush and his bloodthirsty wars. (A difference between Vietnam and Iraq is that President Lyndon Johnson claimed he was fighting communists. Bush’s main rationale for attacking Iraq was those fictional Weapons of Mass Destruction that never materialized. Whether one agreed with LBJ or not, at least it was true that there were indeed communists in Indochina.) If you want to see real Christians, look no farther than the Berrigan brothers and their acolytes, not those phony baloney backers of Sarah Palin and John McCain, who has made a career out of being a war criminal, attacking a country that never posed a military threat to our borders.

Sibyl Wickersheimer’s set design literally sets the stage for this play: a huge flag hangs from the ceiling, with a parachute behind it. (Wait till you see what these “un-Americans” do with Old Glory!) The sparse set’s seats, etc., are sometimes suggestive of a courtroom, at other time of the pews of a church, which is what one suspects the Berrigans hoped to turn the courthouse into, as they bore witness against the war machine and its lackey, the judicial system.

The skilled, tireless actors perform admirably in multiple roles, alternating between playing defendants, witnesses, attorneys, prosecutors, et al, as the ensemble troupe rousingly brings alive a history that is, alas, still very much with us. For this reason, The Trial of the Catonsville Nine remains very topical and a must see, as the war in Iraq drags on and the Obama administration plans its Afghan surge, while beefing up military spending.

In its agony, ecstasy and glory, The Trial of the Catonsville Nine dares to remind us that at the core of the Judeo-Christian ethic is the edict that, from Hanoi to Baghdad to Kabul to Gaza, “thou shall not kill.”

The Trial of the Catonsville Nine plays at the Ivy Substation, 9070 Venice Blvd., Culver City on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00 p.m. and Sundays at 2:00 p.m. through March 21. For more info call 310/838-GANG or log onto www.theactorsgang.com.

PAN AFRICAN FILM FESTIVAL 2009

Director Philippe Diaz and The End of Poverty?


Pan African Film Festival review

By Ed Rampell

The 17th annual Pan African Film Festival, which took place Feb. 5-16, was the same as usual. By this, I mean to compliment one of Los Angele’s true cultural gems, which year after year screens a frothy concoction of Black-themed indie, foreign, documentary, short subject, student and commercial studio movies and videos. Indeed, the biggest departure for 2009’s PAFF was its screening venue, as the venerable festival relocated from its longtime location at the then-Magic Johnson Theatres at Crenshaw to the Culver Plaza Theatres. The fact that Culver City, as the home of fabled Hollywood studios, has played a historic role in the cinema is underscored by the delightful photo and painted murals of movie icons such as Errol Flynn, Judy Garland and Gene Kelly that adorn the walls of the Culver Plaza Theatres.

The most valuable role PAFF plays is as a gateway for specialty cinema, either premiering pictures or screening films that Angelenos would not even have an opportunity to see, unless they traveled to far-flung countries such as Ethiopia or embargoed Cuba. The following is a cross section of this year’s offerings at America’s largest film festival of its kind.

Nonfiction biopics of back icons were screened, such as Annette von Wangenheim’s Joesphine Baker: Black Diva in a White Man’s World, about the actress, dancer and chanteuse who went from Harlem’s Cotton Club to Parisian cabarets. After taking Europe by storm Baker, who was renowned for her onstage shimmying scantily clad in banana leaves, remained in France, where there was less racism, and went on to heroically serve in the French resistance against the Nazis.

Sam Pollard’s Zora Neale Hurston: Jump at the Sun did not shrink from revealing the contradictions, as well as the glories, of this central figure of the Harlem Renaissance, a folklorist and author who during the 1920s proclaimed the “New Negritude,” but also allegedly ripped Langston Hughes off and ended up attacking the Supreme Court’s ruling in favor of school desegregation. Huston became a sort of forerunner of the conservative black pundits cable TV news never has trouble finding, even as broadcast TV still somehow lags behind in presenting integrated and black-themed programming.

On the other hand, the otherwise informative AMS documentary, The Real Great Debaters – which examined the facts behind the Denzel Washington-directed fiction film The Great Debaters – avoided the biggest question raised by the 2007 feature. Although the doc reveals that the feature fudged the truth by depicting the white team defeated by Wiley College’s eloquent arguers as Harvard (it was really none other than our very own USC – which went on to formally deny Wiley the championship), the real Great Debaters doesn’t even remotely deal with whether or not debate coach and poet Melvin Tolson (Washington's character) was a Communist Party member, as suggested by the feature. This may be one of the rare times in cinema history when the fiction film was more honest than the nonfiction film, although the latter remains worth seeing.

The San Fernando Valley-based left-leaning distributor Cinema Libre Studios produced The End of Poverty? which will be theatrically released in September, but had its L.A. premiere at PAFF. This thoughtful, hard-hitting documentary traces the 15th century origins of Third World poverty to the introduction of capitalism by European colonizers, and reveals how the perpetuation of the unequal distribution of wealth continues to this very day, and will only end when resource and income inequality are gapped. The doc’s insightful – and inciting -- commentators include Blowback author Chalmers Johnson, “economic hitman” John Perkins and economist Jospeh Stiglitz. After the PAFF screening director Philippe Diaz did a Q&A with the audience.

Kangamba is a feature about the decisive military role Cuba played in 1983 during the national liberation struggle in Angola, backing the MPLA against South Africa-backed UNITA. This stand up and cheer film was actually smuggled out of Cuba and past the U.S. blockade so it could be presented at PAFF. While revolutionary in content Kangamba’s form is quite conventional, and reminded me of all those World War II pix co-starring William Bendix, such as 1943’s Guadalcanal Diary. All other Cuban films I’ve seen, such as last year’s PAFF entry from Cuba, El Benny, had a bolder cinematic stylistic sensibility. Perhaps Kangamba is more aesthetically conservative because the director of this co-production, Rogelio Paris, is Brazilian.

The doc Cuba: An African Odyssey covered some of the same subject matter, the untold story of the role Castro’s Cuba played in ending apartheid. Last year PAFF screened a feature with a similar theme, Nambia: The Struggle for Liberation with Danny Glover, directed by Charles Burnett (whose 1977 Killer of Sheep was presented by PAFF this year).

Other features screened by PAFF this year include the 1967 Oscar winner In the Heat of the Night starring Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger, Spike Lee’s 2008 Miracle at St. Anna and Sugar, about a Dominican baseball player’s effort to break into the major leagues. The following are the finalists for PAFF’s awards in various categories.

PAFF COMPETITION WINNERS:

BEST NARRATIVE FEATURE
Prince of Broadway - US
Honorable Mention
Happy Sad - Trinidad/Tobago

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Cuba, An African Odyssey - France
Honorable Mention
The End of Poverty? - US
BEST NARRATIVE SHORT
Kwame - US
Honorable Mention
Warrior Queen - Ghana

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT
Scarred Justice: The Orangeburg Massacre - US
Honorable Mention
Faubourg Treme’: The Untold Story of Black New Orleans - US

BEST FIRST FEATURE - DIRECTOR
Rain - Bahamas

JURY FAVORITE
Skin - US

PAFF AUDIENCE FAVORITE WINNERS: BEST NARRATIVE FEATURE
Skin - US

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Nubian Spirit: The African Legacy of the Nile Valley - Sudan/UK

PAFF DIRECTOR'S AWARD: BEST NARRATIVE FEATURE
Sugar - US

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Milking the Rhino - US

PAFF PROGRAMMER'S AWARD: BEST NARRATIVE FEATURE
Standing N Truth - US

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Run Baby Run - Ghana

PAFF is always presented in February -- “Black History Month.” I suspect that this is because PAFF is not only Black, but it is, indeed, historic.

For more information see: www.paff.org.

FILM REVIEW: FUEL

Passing gas on the road.


Food for oil

By John Esther

Probably one of the most heartening documentaries that will come out this year, Josh Tickell’s self-biopic fuels the imagination for a better tomorrow.

Documenting the petrochemical domination of domestic and foreign policy -- from Standard Oil's strategy to cease and destabilize Ford's first ethanol cars to the war in Iraq/former U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney's suspicious (and secret) energy legislation -- writer Johnny O'Hara and Tickell display a country hooked, very deliberately in fact, to petrol.

Rather than be independent on foreign oil, Tickell’s thought provoking, and seemingly irrefutable, plan is to run our cars on biodiesel. No longer will Exxon/Mobil, Shell and Standard Oil fuel your car, but rather places such as KFC, McDonald's or any other greasy spoon. It is a great plan and, according to entrepreneurs, activists and actors, there is no reason why Americans cannot do it.

Winner of the Sundance Film Festival Best Documentary Audience Award, it has been a long time since Americans could feel good about their cars and Tickell’s formidable ideas about biodiesel refill America’s drive to be self-sufficient. A bit early to say, I know, but Fuel very well could make my top ten of 2009.


For more infomation log onto http://www.thefuelfilm.com/

FILM NEWS: VALENTINE AND "SNEAK PEAK" OSCAR SUITE

Eric Roberts and Tia Carrere at the 2009 Valentine & "Sneak Peek" Oscar Suite.

Gearing up for the big night


By John Esther


With less than two weeks to go before the Academy Awards on February 22, many celebrities, plus their mere mortal civilian counterparts, get geared up to find the glamorous gear to wear during the world’s grandest fashion spectacle.


Conversely, designers, artists and corporations vie to tie the Oscar outfit on the beautiful and famous people with the wish their product/text will generate publicity, and thus, revenue for the rest of the year.


In light of these mutual interests, haute couture creators and other companies converged with talent such as actors Tia Carrere, Hector Elizando, Cory Feldman, Lou Ferrigno, Melanie Griffith, Esai Morales, Carrie Preston, and Eric Roberts, plus other show business denizens yesterday at the Pre-Oscar Suite at Café La Boheme in West Hollywood for the 2008 Valentine Romance & "Sneak Peek" Oscar Suite.


The biggest name at the event was The Tom James Company (www.tomjames.com). Making their clothes exclusively in the United States since 1966 the world’s largest custom clothier, who is currently expanding despite these economically difficult times, was on hand to offer select stars like actors Antonio Banderas, Jeff Garlin, Greg Grunberg and William Shatner with custom tuxedos and other items, plus the finest socks you may have ever stepped into.


Other clothiers included the rather plain Lane Bryant (www.lanebryant.com) line of clothing and the cutesy quasi-quirky Knew Products (www.knewproducts.com) -- both offering garments for occasions beyond the Oscars.


On the feet, products not for an Oscar fete were offered. Notably Ryn Footwear (www.rynamerica.com) presented their new rocking footwear which caters to people looking to workout at an errand’s notice, not a night under the starlight. Using a unique sole shape to build and muscles in the legs when merely walking, expect Ryn Footwear to be a hot item this year.

Starting back from the natural top on down, Hai (www.hairandartinfo.com) was on hand to offer fashionistas their light hair blow dryers and state-of-the-art lissotrichous devices as well as J Beverly Hills (www.jbeverlyhills.com) whose clients have included Halle Berry and Brad Pitt.


For the skin, cutaneous-conscious connoisseurs could get organic and natural products form Lip-Ink International (www.lipink.com), Electric Body (www.electricbody.com) and the vegan-friendly vendor, Bombshell (www.originalbombshell.com).


To entice one to pick out free materials from a plethora of bourgeois and upper class entities when one enters Café Boheme, complimentary wine was offered. While that is not bad, one also had the choice of savoring a shot of very fine vodka from Imperial Collection (www.prowoodusa.com) -- which tastes and feels a lot better than aqua -- at least while one is “gifted” – whose unique Faberge egg containers cater to those with eclectic imbibing styles. However, for those who get a buzz just out of shopping, feel good water was provided by Aquamantra (www.aquamantra.com). Also were the deliciously exclusive handcrafted chocolates by Mignon (www.mignonchocolates.com).

TRAVEL: PALM SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA

Meet poolside at the Rendezvous Hotel.


Fun in the sun

By John Esther

As temperatures eventually commence to hit three digits, heading east toward the desert may not seem too hot of an idea but things will cool down, eventually, though never too much, in the City of Palm Springs.

Located approximately 112 miles east of Los Angeles, Palm Springs was once a getaway where cinematic stars of the hoi polloi would come to get away from the riff-raff that supported them and to which they so secretly despised. Bob Hope, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sonny Bono (who became Mayor of Palm Springs), Ginger Rogers, Charles “Buddy” Rogers and many other household names of yesteryear graced Palm Springs with their presence.

As fewer famous figures dwell in the oasis over the years (The Palm Springs Walk of Stars has gone from tourist attraction to a joke to now invisible except to only those who are involved), Palm Springs has had to adapt and change to the time, eventually transforming into a hot spot attracting people of many ages to live and visit, but primarily celebrate.

Today with names like Frank Sinatra Drive and Bob Hope Drive (in neighboring Rancho Mirage), elderly people looking for heat and nostalgia retire here while young hedonists from all over come to party here over the holiday weekends. (Empirically speaking, Palm Springs is a great place for coitus encounters). Not only do various ages of people come here to retire, reside, recreation or reap the wild life, the traditionally conservative city has progressed in years. For one thing, Palm Springs has become a city with a prominent, no longer closeted, GLBT community. Warm weather, parties, the elderly, and the GLBT community: with components commingling like this it is only natural the city offer swank hotels, arid activities and art.

Located near the southern part of the infamous Palm Springs Strip, one of the hippest hideaways on the hush-hush map is the newly renovated Horizon Hotel. A single-story secret oasis mixing art-deco, desert demure and contemporary amenities, the newly renovated boutique houses 22 rooms with easy access to the centrally-located pool.

Our room hosted the delights you would expect for a party pad of this caliber. There is a high-definition television, CD player, an air conditioner and other amenities, most of which can be controlled via remote. However, we could not access the hotel’s wireless service. The beds are huge, comfy and quiet. Thanks to the interior design you can control how much privacy you want as huge curtains drape half the place. This is something you may want to pay attention to as the big showers in the rooms are visible and, as the warm water seems endless, you may be taking longer showers than usual. Hi there. There is no smoking inside the hotel but each place has a patio where you can comfortably get your fix of nicotine (or something else).

The Horizon offers splendid pool service. Towels are brought to you the minute you approach the pool seeking a spot in the hot sun (get there early if you want an umbrella). The bartender with a skateboard inquires about libations. A refreshing pool offers several levels of depth. Out of the pool guests can bake in the sun while gazing at the beautiful local mountains while listening to the typical Palm Springs sounds of the Molden Age. (I am still waiting for one Palm Springs hotel to play good music by its pool.)

There is a bar at Horizon Hotel, but my advice is to bring your own drinks (no glass) or drink in your room and then come outside (You should be going inside anyway to use the bathroom, anyway. People who drink all day without going to their room are suspicious). While the bartender does know how to make some tasty, powerful drinks, at $10 a pop those drinks – with or without a name -- can add up to an expensive afternoon by the pool in the hot sun.

The bar also hosts a complimentary Continental Breakfast.

But perhaps most important of all for those of you who have had enough of the rambunctious adolescent behavior often associated with Palm Springs, guests at the Horizon Hotel must be 21 or over.

Another swank stay in Palm Springs is Rendezvous Hotel. Located near the Northern part of Palm Springs Strip, Rendezvous Hotel recently renovated its 50s-themed rooms with all the comforts and joys you would expect in hotels that are more expensive than this one.

As you come from the ample parking lot the first thing you hear, once again, is the nostalgic 50’s music wafting through the air. From there you pass into the courtyard where there is a pristine pool, hot tub, and blue AstroTurf sun deck. You may be tempted to settle yourself under one of the terracotta umbrellas and wrap yourself in a plush towel and state out into the mountains. Across the pool is the small hotel desk and pop art lounge straight out of Ikea. In the lounge you will likely meet Jake Cohen, the son holding down this Cohen family Bed & Breakfast (they also have a place in Lake Tahoe). Jake is there to create a smooth stay while you are in Palm Springs.

When the clock strikes 5 p.m. Jake breaks open Happy Hour. You can munch and drink for free while discussing where to go out that night. Whatever it is you are into Jake possesses the information or the will to find what is you want or need. We are talking superb service here.

After a night on the town, and if you have not had too much to drink, Rendezvous Hotel’s whirlpool tub under the desert sky should put you in the mood for sex or slumber.

While I am not a fan of 1950s nostalgia, the rooms at Rendezvous Hotel pack comfort into every corner. In the Honeymoon Hideaway (which is not much of a hideaway), a wall divides the bedroom and shower on one side and a bathroom and kitchen on the other side. Despite the room’s name this might be more suitable for newer couples who do not want to share distinct noises this early in the relationship. We were unable to pick up on the wireless service here, either.

In the morning Jake whips up a personal healthy breakfast, accompanied by gourmet coffee, tea, juice and one of Jake’s smoothies. Then it is pool time.

Of course, and this may sound sacrilegious to some, one can only party for so long. There must be something to do sober. First of all there are the shops along the strips where you will find items found anywhere as long as Palm Springs product. Better yet there is the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, which will take you up to a place where you will have impressive views of the valley from 8,500 feet.

If you are more demanding of your time and travel, check out the Palm Springs Art Museum. Replete with cool air-conditioning, plus older, 20th Century, and contemporary art and installation works of various merits, Palm Springs Museum is the best museum within a 80 miles westward and the best museum hundreds of miles to the north, south or east.

And for those visiting earlier in the year, in early January the Palm Springs Film Festival kicks off the first film festival of the new year.

For more information: Horizon Hotel. Address: 1050 East Palm Canyon Drive, Palm Springs, CA 92264; Phone: 760/323-1858; Website: www.thehorizonhotel.com.

Rendezvous Hotel. Address: 1420 North Indian Canyon Drive, Palm Springs, CA 92262. Phone: 800/485-2808. Website: www.palmspringsrendezvous.com

Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. Address: One Tramway Rd., Palm Springs, CA 92262. Phone: 888/515-TRAM. Website: www.pstramway.com

Palm Springs Art Museum. Address: 101 Museum Drive, Palm Springs, CA 92262. Phone: 760/322-4800. Website: www.psmuseum.org

Palm Springs Film Festival. Address: 1700 E Tahquitz Canyon Way # 3Palm Springs, CA 92262. Phone: 760/778-8979. Website: www.psfilmfest.org

FILM REVIEW: CHOCOLATE

A martial arts star? Jija" Yanin Vismistananda opens up a can of whoop ass.

Rain down some blows girl

By John Esther

The latest from Thai action director Prachya Pinkaew, the poorly-titled movie, Chocolate, features newcomer action star, "Jija" Yanin Vismistananda, as Zen, an autistic girl who studies martial arts movies to her advantage -- and backwardly criminal enterprise -- the way Raymond Babbitt (Dustin Hoffman) studies numbers.

The child of a Thai mother ("Som" Amarka Siripong) and Japanese father (Hiroshi Are) who have been forced apart by their gangster boss who does not approve of such miscegenation, Number 8 (Pongpat Wachirabangjong), Zen spends her days by the TV watching martial arts movies (including Pinkaew's Ong Bak, featuring Tony Jaa) and then mimicking those martial arts skills in the town square for some change.

But when her mother gets sick and needs money for her treatment, Zen tracks down everyone who ever owed mommy money and kicks the "chocolate" right out of them when they refuse. Get a gun, gangster. This girl has mad skills.

Featuring a mixture of lackluster special effects and lustrous stunts, the movie is filled with one gleefully preposterous scene after another. People get hit hard, and nobody hits harder than this teenage girl -- only to get right back up and take an elbow to the head, foot to the knee or crack to the back.

Although hardly breaking any new barriers beyond letting a teenage girl slap the "chocolate" out of many men, plus an occasion woman, the movie occasionally gets freaky fun yet conversely gets tripping tiresome as it plays these fight scenes on and on until the film reaches just barely 90 minutes (including the credits, which you should stick around to see).

The film is obviously a launching pad for Vismistananda the way Pinkaew's Ong Bak and the superior yet under appreciated animal rights friendly flick, The Protector, was supposed to be for Jaa (whatever happened to that team up with Jackie Chan?). We know Vismistananda can fight on screen. Her performance as an autistic girl hellbent on helping mommy has yet to prove if she can act.