courtsey of the Chateau Marmont
Plus, Remembering The Genius Of Laszlo Kovacs!
And we’re back …
Greetings and salutations* my pretties, the scuttlebutt from the Hollywood gossip rags is always true, the Yay Area’s own inveterate Bay Area Bad Boy Sultan of Celluloid is back from the (proverbial) hotel* and in the 7x7 building.* Did you miss me? Of course you did …
In the wake of legendary performers like Tom Jones, Elvis Presley and N2Deep, “Diamond” MRFE Hooker is, according to Variety, “back on the scene with a gangster lean and a seismic pelvic thrust.” I know what some of you are saying, Whoa … slow down there maestro, there’s a “new” Mexico?* I say, yes … there is.
Can you tell I’m refreshed from my adventures traveling the countryside playing freestyle electric accordion in a family rock-n-roll band?* Can you also tell I’m rocking a shiny new verbal axe to grind? … Now if I could just remember where I left it. You see I, ahem, seem to have left my most “recent” memories back in one of the hotels … double trouble is I have no “refresher clues” laying about my swing pad other than this Alcohol Intake Monitoring Ankle Bracelet I came across while unpacking my suitcase. What could it mean?
A Torrid Night With A Hollywood Starlet!
Well … er, the last thing I do remember was my agent snagging me a gig in L.A. writing a fluff piece for a high profile entertainment magazine (rhymes with Fanity Vair). Filling in for a staff writer who came down with a last minute case of flaming herpes, I got to interview one of the most notorious Girls-Gone-Wild Hollywood “actresses” on the Tiger Beat scene. Hot damn, that pie’s good.*
Sure it was, but I won’t divulge who the piece was on (really, that would be indiscreet) but I’m not gonna lie to you … it rhymes with Mimsey Blowhan. To the surprise of none of the bellhops on duty two Fridays ago, upon our first encounter at the Chateau Marmont, my Brooding Mojo Meter (as is it’s way) immediately lit my bronzed interview subject’s love button ablaze. Curse this handsome devil’s finely tuned countenance! I didn’t have time for love … or did I?
After dropping two straws into a fishbowl of Cointreau and sodey, the souped-up starlet was all over me and somehow got it in her mussed head I wasn’t the “interview guy” but rather the guy delivering a heaping mound of Bolivian Marching Powder to her penthouse lair. As you might surmise (yada-yada) it was back to the hotel for fourteen aerobically intense “one-on-one interview” sessions where I apparently tore off her alcohol monitoring ankle bracelet with my teeth, then faded to the darkest shade of black.
Was it curtains for The Maestro? The next day I woke in a heap on Sunset Boulevard, sleeping under a Sunday Times with a skinny dog and no memory of my broken heart and nary a note from our 14-hour interview. Now, I need to finish the piece, she’s in rehab and her publicist isn’t returning my phone calls. Damn Hollywood’s Wicked Game to hell!
Shitty Art Imitates Shitty Life, Film At 11
All this reminds me of a new release worth checking out, Interview (now playing at the Embarcadero and Lumiere) is a movie I don’t have to see but you probably should, why? Because I lived it, fourteen times with an alcohol monitoring ankle bracelet between my teeth! Directed by bug-eyed indie actor Steve Buscemi (Reservoir Dogs, Fargo, The Big Lebowski) and starring Sienna Miller, Interview (trust me) tells the “true story” about what really goes on during a celebrity interview, at least when I’m involved.
For pure watching power, there’s something delicious about seeing two polar opposite sicko freaks carnally tear each other’s soul to pieces, all for shits and giggles. If you’re like me, checking out Interview may give you a perverse thrill ... or not. Granted Interview may (at times) resemble a talkey piece of staged wanker-tripe, but it’s my kind of wanker-tripe and that’s all any film nerd can ask for in the Summer of Stink 2007, right? Guh … right.
Remembering Laszlo Kovacs
Postscript: While showering, I discovered yet another clue as to my July whereabouts written on my arms and chest in Sharpie permanent marker. Listen up, this must be important:
Dear Poppa H. Don’t freak out!! You have amnesia brought on by brain swelling from all the shitty movies you’ve been forced to see this summer. There is a cure, look to the past, his name … Laszlo Kovacs .… Laszlo Kovacs … Laszlooooh Kooovacs … Laszlooooooooh Koooovaaaaacs.” – Love, Mimsey
I researched my cryptic scribble and discovered yes, this is a clue, this is one of my favorite cinematographers from the 70s, Laszlo Kovacs who recently passed away last week in Beverly Hills at the age of 74 ... Ah, that’s it! That’s where I shacked up after the Chateau Marmont, in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Oh … here’s a $12,000 bill for the … hotel … room(s) I just found in my pocket …
Damn Hollywood’s Wicked Game to hell!
Easy Rider Rides Into The Sunset Just Off Sunset Boulevard
Now that’s settled, perhaps I should check out the Kovacs oeuvre again to cure what ails me? For those in need of a primer, Kovacs was the Hungarian-born cinematographer who was one of the masters of New School improvisation and creative spontaneity. His eye helped produce some of the greatest films of the 1960s and 1970s ...
And for those of you in the know, here’s some trivia: Kovacs had no idea where he was going to shoot the scene in Five Easy Pieces when Jack Nicholson orders a chicken salad sandwich without the chicken salad just to get the side of toast he wants. “Approaching the freeway, we saw a little rise, and there was the café … I think we shot that scene in two hours then we moved on …” So rad …
I highly suggest you check out some of Kovac’s flicks to click on DVD and thank me next week after I’ve rediscovered my verbal axe and a few of my memory glands. But will I ever be back to normal? That’s a hard question for me and Mimsey, and her publicist, and her agent, and her mother, and her manager, and her personal trainer, and her drug counselor, and her sponsor and her personal chef to answer ... Until next time, be bad and get into trouble baby …* MRF
Laszlo Kovacs (R.I.P.) Pics to Click
• Psych-Out (1968) Dir. Rush
• Targets (1968) Dir. Bogdanovich
• Easy Rider (1969) Dir. Hopper
• Five Easy Pieces (1970) Dir. Rafelson
• The King of Marvin Gardens (1972) Dir. Rafelson
• Paper Moon (1973) Dir. Bogdanovich
• Shampoo (1975) Dir. Ashby
• The Last Waltz (1978) Dir. Scorsese
• Ghostbusters (1984) Dir. Reitner
• Legal Eagles (1986) Dir. Reitner
• Say Anything (1989) Dir. Crowe
Happenings Round Town:
• Sicko (2007) Dir. Moore – 1000 Van Ness
• Interview (2007) Dir. Buscemi – Embarcadero/Lumiere
• Rescue Dawn (2007) Dir. Herzog – Embarcadero
• Broken English (2007) Dir. Casavettes – Lumiere
• Flash Gordon (1980) Dir. Hodges – Bridge (Midnight Show)
• Tues. (7/31) – Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001) Dir. Mitchell - Castro
• Thurs. (8/2) – The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg (1994) Dir. Aronson - Roxie
• Fri. (8/3) – Mahogany (1975) Dir. Gordy – Castro
• Sat. (8/4) – Unholy Rollers (1972) Dir. Zimmerman – Yerba Buena
Wednesday (8/1) – Fashion and Legendary Ladies (Triple Feature)
• Blonde Venus (1932) – Dir. von Sternberg – Marlene Dietrich
• All About Eve (1950) – Dir. Mankiewicz – Betty Davis
• Gilda (1944) – Dir. Vidor – Rita Hayworth
Volume 23 Footnotes*
• “Greetings and salutations.” – Heathers (1991): Christian Slater to Winona Ryder.
• “Back to the hotel,” – N2Deep (1991) ya heard me, bringin' the thunder from the song "Back to the Hotel."
• “Elvis is in the building,” – Elvis Live in Concert – The chicken-friend Voice of God introducing The King to his Brill-Cream lovin’ audience.
• “Whoa, slow down there maestro, there’s a “new” Mexico? – The Simpsons (1989 to present): Mr. Burns to an oiled headed underling.
• “No one ever hears the accordion when you listen to a rock and roll band,” – Ishtar (1987): Songwriting team of Dusty Hoffman and Warren Beatty tears up the nightclub circuit in the Elaine May classic.
• “Hot damn that pie’s good,” – Twin Peaks (1990) a Double R Diner patron chortles to all who will listen.
• “Let’s get into trouble baby.” – Tapeheads (1988): Soul Train host Don Cornelius (as Hollywood Producer Mo Fuzz) to upstart filmmakers Tim Robbins and John Cusack.