The Last Knight of Camelot

It is the end of an era, there is an immense sense of sorrow, an emptiness, a void where once there were men and woman who were made bigger than life through their dreams and ambitions not just for themselves but for the world. The icons of our times, the princes and princesses we created, have fallen one by one.

The style and grace of Jackie, Princess Grace and Princess Diana will always be remembered. Jackie’s knight was vanquished but his dream was not. Princess Grace lived the fairy tale until the end and Princess Diana found her prince had turned into a frog.

The Princes of Camelot, although bigger than life in our memories, have once again been vanquished by human frailty. The eulogy for Bobby Kennedy as given by Teddy personifies perhaps more than anything else why these men, these American sons, these Princes of Camelot, inspired love and respect and why they were worth loving, worth respecting. Those who publicly aspire to change hearts and minds, those who forge ahead against the odds and who not only demand a better world but who personally strive to create one in which dreams become reality alter not only themselves but the course of history.

The world is a poorer place without the dreamers. It is important to have ideals, to make moral choices, to strive for a better world for our children. It is important to have leaders with the courage, strength and resolve to make dreams into reality. Leaders, who, despite setbacks, roadblocks and personal stumbling keep on. Who, despite detractors, threats and those whose only interest is in tearing things down, seek to build things up.

The worth of a human being is not measured solely in their accomplishments but even more so in if and how they pick them self up after their failures. It is in where they chose to go from there. Every one of us caries scars, some on the outside and some within. Scars can harden and turn to bitterness or bring strength and resolve to do better.

Unlike John, Bobby and Martin Luther King Jr., Teddy Kennedy lived to see the dream come to pass. Camelot may have receded into the mists of history but the torch has been passed and it’s up to us to see that it continues to shine brightly, lighting the way for those who come after. If history does nothing more than inspire youth to do better it serves a purpose and it serves it well. Like the Camelot of old filed with daring deeds and dragons, marred by human failings, glorified by imposable quests, the Camelot of the Kennedy era has become more than it was and less depending on the aspect stressed but both Camelots remain, at least in our hearts and minds something to strive for, to emulate and to inspire.

Like a video game in which the players have jumped steps to advance as far and as fast as possible to achieve their goal, once reached it is time to go back and consolidate the win, to solidify the base on which it was constructed into a concrete foundation so strong, so imperviable that the win is real, the goal is actualized not just for us but for those who come after. The original dreamers may have died but their dream has not and will not. The dream lives on, multiplied exponentially, inadvertently or intentionally by us through our children and their children and their children’s children. Fairytales and myths serve a purpose, changing those who grew up with them and their world forever.

The last Knight of Camelot has left the building. Rest in peace Teddy.

Inglourious Basterds

QT revved up and on a roll, strutted to the front of the house, his comments geared to his demographic who ate it up and gave a standing ovation. Inglorious Basterds however is a must see, feel good, film of the year for everyone. The movie is intense, romantic, funny, fabulous and above all entertaining. It may not be what’s real but it’s what we all wish were real. Opening like a Spaghetti Western, a French twist is soon established and we’re gonna kill us some Nazi’s! Taking the typical film noir of machine guns and moles, murderers and madmen Inglorious Basterds takes a humorous look at serious subject matter.

When it comes to the human condition nothing is ever as simple as stereotypes make it out to be however, by simplifying and dividing a whole person simultaneously into their component parts, each one dimensional character exemplifying specific character traits of the whole, a comparison can be made. Not every person makes the same life decisions to survive yet every choice has its own unique set of consequences. The true horror of the Nazi regime was its ability to break otherwise honorable human beings in the name of survival by giving them impossible choices. Not every ally was a hero and not every Nazi was a villain. Tarantino takes great pleasure in turning stereotypes on their heads.

Everyone starts out idealistic and young, with nationalistic pride unquestioned. Growth however, is often twisted by survival, rationalization and reality. We can all see ourselves in these situations. We can relate. We want to be the tough guy who fights back, who immediately sees right from wrong, but more often then not we aren’t. Blind to reality, compromises are made. We rationalize. Above all we make choices. We can deny our decisions or we can own the consequences, be honest with ourselves or fabricate a reality we can live with.

Refreshingly honest about the brutalities of war, every time we flinch and cringe with horror, a disarming alternative is humorously provided allowing us to laugh at the insanity. Helter skelter violence that is graphic rather than gratuitous tells a story of human choices between country and honor, survival and innocence. Humanity burnt away, empty husks filled with immense intense anger and myopic goals that no longer fit into rational, peaceful society remain. People who have participated in horror are permanently scarred, not just the villains but also the heroes. Life would be so much easier if the scars we carry on the inside were reflected on the outside. If like the picture of Dorian Grey, we wore our choices, our decisions like marks of Cain or scarlet letters on our foreheads and faces just think how much of a deterrent it would be.

Not since Cat People has a Bowie song been used to such classic effect, with such intensity or romanticism. The lady in red, the tragic heroine, sweeps us up in a rollercoaster ride of thrills, chills and glorious retribution. There is a God after all.

Brad Pitt’s southerner doesn’t have the polish and sophistication of a Selznick hero but then it wouldn’t work half as well if he did. Attention to detail: champagne glasses, scars, pipes, fountain pens, color schemes, poodles and cats add depth and perspective. Little actions promote disgust or compassion. Close ups of eyes speak volumes. Subtle references through similarity of actions, facial features and situations abound.

The French are not the only ones who respect great directors. Quentin Tarantino said, “I think… I hope I deliver.” And he does.

Nostalgia at 45 RPM

Amoeba Music claims to be the world’s largest independently owned music store and I believe them. On Sunset Blvd. between North Cahuenga Blvd. and Ivar Avenue it takes up an entire city block. With vinyl record albums taking up about a third of the store, walking through the doors is like doing the time warp.

Sifting through the albums brought back sounds, pictures, smells, parties of two and parties of two hundred, revelations, revolutions, fantasy and history. Shared experiences dovetail between music and movies, between cultural clashes and cultural celebrations, between reality and dreams. It was a shared odyssey of the senses, a journey of new experiences, new sounds, new images, new ideas, challenges and growth. The kind of growth through experience that Mother never taught us. Some of us made it and some of us didn’t. We were in free fall and didn’t realize it until we hit the ground.

There were some albums and experiences everybody had. Who could forget Carole King’s Tapestry, Chicago’s big chocolate bar, and Jefferson Starship’s Red Octopus, a many tentacled heart. Everyone spent a night at the Hotel California with the Eagles. Frampton came alive, Elvis died and the Beatles officially broke up.

Queen rocked us, Led Zeppelin showed us the way to heaven and Lynard Skynard taught us how to fly free. Billy Joel was a stranger and Neil Young said not to let things get you down. AC/DC was back in black and Johnny Cash was the man in black. Rod Stewart told us that with love the first cut is the deepest and the Stones fought off wild horses in the name of love. We learned that if you don’t eat your meat you can’t have any pudding. The building of a wall was documented and another wall came tumbling down.

Bruce Springsteen was born to run and Tommy ran away from it all, retreating into his own world. George Carlin said the seven words you can’t say on radio and Richard Prior set ears on fire with his language and himself on fire with a lighter. We fought killer bunnies and searched for the Holy Grail while some days a hard rain just fell.

Barbara Streisand was born a star, Stevie Nicks vamped it up like a gypsy princess, and Cyndi Lauper just wanted to have fun.

Electric Light Orchestra evolved from a neon hood ornament into a space dock. Jefferson Airplane became a starship. We had aliens from France, Mork from Ork, Wookies and Trekies. Aliens ate meatloaf and Meatloaf flew like a bat out of hell.

Today you can buy an LP to digital music converter, change your old LPs to MP3s and listen to your personal collection on your iPod. You can even share your playlist by docking your MP3 player, but the experience of vinyl still can’t be beat. It’s not just audible, it’s also tactile, visual and above all memorable. It’s a group experience, a cultural sharing rather than an individual, solitary journey. John Belushi went on a road trip and never found his way home, Peter Fonda & Dennis Hooper went looking for America and didn’t survive the trip, but we went looking for America and we found it… in our music.

Wasabi Ice Cream, Spider Rolls and Potato Pizza

It’s impossible to talk about Los Angeles without mentioning sushi. From Tiki bars to sushi bars Los Angeles has always experimented with alternative cuisines. There are 210 sushi restaurants listed within 14 miles of the center of Los Angeles which works out to be a sushi restaurant approximately every 100 yards. There is even a Sushi Academy that offers a California Rice Scholarship to those who wish to attend the courses which range in intensity from one day to twelve weeks.

At one time there was talk of the Japanese government sending inspectors to rate the authenticity of sushi restaurants here in the United States. The Japanese fear that with Americanized fusion cuisine such as California roll, caterpillar roll, dynamite roll, rainbow roll, spider roll, Philadelphia roll and Seattle roll becoming synonymous with sushi in the United States the authenticity of the experience would be lost. However, wherever there are cross cultural connections the sharing of edible delicacies becomes inevitable.

The key to globally accepted cuisine seems to be simplicity. While the basics of a dish are retained, regional ingredients and tastes are added in an explosive evolution of gastronomic delight. To those who wish to be Kill Roy’s and complain about the bastardizing of culture specific cuisines all one has to do is take a look at food throughout the centuries. The origin of any type of cuisine is questionable if one goes back far enough.

Some foods such as ice cream, pasta, pizza, and sushi have gone around the world and back again. While Americans have adopted Japanese sushi and made it their own, the Japanese in an unintentional cultural exchange have adopted American pizza and done the same. Examples of this can also be found in Los Angeles. While the Japanese may frown on our interpretation of sushi we would find their idea of pizza quiet odd. Here in Los Angeles some alternative items listed in an Asian pizza place as toppings are: Alfredo Sauce, asparagus, bamboo shoots, BBQ chicken, blue cheese dressing, boiled eggs, calamari, clams, crab, cream cheese mousse, cubed beef and steak sauce, lettuce, mayonnaise, nacho chips, octopus, orange marmalade, potatoes, seaweed, sour cream, strawberry dipping sauce, sweet potato mousse, tuna, shrimp, squid ink and sweet corn. Although not all these items are offered on one pizza even one or two of them mixed together on a pizza crust probably would not appeal to the average American.

Cinematic efforts have portrayed this mixing of culinary culture in a humorous vein. It has become popular in cartoons such as Samurai Pizza Cats who fight crime in Little Tokyo while running a pizza place, animated wasabi as both the bad guy in Chop Socky Chooks and the good guy in Sushi Pack and real wasabi used to humorous effect in the movie of the same name.

From preservative method to fast food to culinary art, where presentation is as important as taste and combinations of ingredients are chosen for their color and texture and taste enhancing combinations, such foods as sushi, pizza, pasta and ice cream have captured the palate and imagination of the world. Globalization of culture is reflected in the evolution of culturally specific cuisines worldwide being adopted, reinvented and perhaps even rejuvenated by cross culture adaptations.

Charismatic Megafauna in Hollywood

It’s fitting somehow that two of Los Angeles major tourist attractions are adorned by huge statues of elephants. In the Hindu religion Ganesha, the Hindu Elephant Deity, is the god of success, destroyer of evil and obstacles, god of knowledge, wisdom and wealth. Hollywood, Mecca to all those who dream of fame and fortune on stage and screen, seems an appropriate site to situate such massive statues paying tribute to the mighty pachyderm.

The La Brea Tar Pits sport four wooly mammoths around the pond, one of whom is trapped and sinking while his family watches helplessly from the shore. Even today, at the Page Museum history is being rewritten with Project 23. Twenty-three crates of huge asphaltic deposits were unearthed when the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, next to the La Brea Tar Pits extended their campus to include the Broad Contemporary Art Museum. Those 23 crates are being opened and cleaned in public view in the Fish Bowl laboratory. Zed, a rare male Columbian mammoth fossil with 10 foot tusks was also uncovered during construction at the museums.

The Babylon Court at Hollywood and Highland , site of the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the Kodak Theatre, sports two massive elephant statues copied from the set of D. W. Griffith’s movie Intolerance: Love’s Struggle Throughout the Ages made in 1916.

The history of modern film making began in 1895 with the first film made for projection. From elephant graveyards, to elephant guns, from circuses to epic spectacles, elephants have found there way onto the silver screen since the beginning. Elephants made their début with “A Visit to Baby Roger” made in 1900 and starring a baby elephant in Providence, Rhode Island. In 1903 Topsy the elephant was filmed being electrocuted by Thomas Edison to demonstrate the dangers of electricity after Topsy killed three of her handlers who had been torturing her. In 1916 elephants were part of the epic splendor of “Intolerance”. In 1930 Harpo Marx shot an elephant in his pajamas. Elephants danced in pink ballet shoes in “Fantasia” (1940), flew and went on a Technicolor parade in “Dumbo”(1941). Henry Mancini composed the baby elephant walk in 1962 for “Hatari!” with John Wayne and the Simpsons introduced it to a new generation. Horton Heard a Who then Horton Heard The Who. Sigfred & Roy and Chris Angel have made elephants disappear. Mythbusters have proven that elephants are afraid of mice. From cartoons to movies, television shows to magic shows, and comedy to drama elephants have managed to capture the imagination of Hollywood for over 100 years and between the La Brea tar pits and Hollywood, elephants have been making history in Los Angeles for over 40,000 years.

Legends Rest in Peace

Tucked away behind an office building, a movie theatre and a library on the west side of Los Angeles, half a block from Wilshire Blvd. is a peaceful, tree shaded, postage stamp sized graveyard. The graveyard may be small but it’s inhabitants were and still are huge in our memories. Interred in marble crypts and under grassy lawn, here lie:


Fanny Brice (1891-1951)

Truman Capote (1924-1984)

James Coburn (1928-2002) & Paula Coburn (1955-2004)
Go Bravely On Love is the Answer

Bob Crane (1928-1978) & Sigrid Valdis (1935-2007)
Col. Hogan & Hilda together forever.

Rodney Dangerfield (1921-2004)
There goes the neighborhood.

Merv Griffin (1925-2007)
I will not be right back after this message.

Don Knotts (1924-2006)

Jack Lemmon (1925-2001)

In

Dean Martin (1917-1995)
Everybody loves somebody sometime.

Walter Matthau (1920-2000)

Marilyn Monroe (1926-1962)

Carol O’Connor (1924-2001)

Roy Orbison (1936-1988)

Bette Mae Page (1923-2008)

Queen of Pin-Ups

Mel Torme (1925-1999)
Music, the greatest good that mortals know and all of heaven we have below.

Billy Wilder (1906-2002)
I’m a writer but then nobody’s perfect.

Frank Zappa (1940-1993)

And many more. Marilyn’s marble crypt is never without a bouquet of flowers. Dean Martin rests in the Sanctuary of Love. Frank Zappa and Roy Orbison chose to rest in unmarked graves rather than suffer the fate of Morrison. Their only monument: anonymous donors occasionally leaving a guitar pick to mark their resting place. There are many cemeteries in Los Angeles, but none more classic, peacefully dignified, evocatively memorable. Whether intentional or not these legends changed their world.

Diamonds, Lace, Couture & Grand Masters

There is something irresistible about Galerie Michael on Rodeo.

Tiffany’s is unforgettable. Providing indestructible power statements for swan like throats. Enabling elegantly polished fingers to make graceful gestures with sparkling emphasis and cold fire. Embellishing elaborately coiffed heads with rainbow flashes dramatically peaking out between wild strands of hair with well planed spontaneity.

La Perla is a fun fantasy romp through sexy scraps in finest lace and satin, fringes, feathers, and crystals whose future is easy to predict. Their collections celebrate the power and art of seduction with glamour and taste showing unsurpassed attention to detail using the elegance of the roaring twenties, the colorful freedom of the sixties and the sweet pretty security of the fifties to put Fredrick’s to shame and leave Victoria in the dust.

Dior’s glamour and elegance is reflected in retro cruse wear Katherine Hepburn would be comfortable in. The models, all long hair and painted lips, southern bells with Reo attitude. Dior’s summer sheers mock modesty in a way Madonna would appreciate. Clothed and unclothed all in the same breath, fifties flirty and feminine styles with sixties colors and hemlines not to mention the ultimate cell phone that can be discretely tucked away into one of their fuchsia or orange purses. The purses so bright and cheery you could just take a bite out of them.

But Galerie Michael is timeless. The one shop on Rodeo that’s hard to resist revisiting. Like a mini museum in the middle of the block, their walls are covered with classics from Rembrandt to Picasso. The list of offerings reads like a roll call of the great masters Cassatt, Cezanne, Chagall, Degas, Dali, Toulouse Lautrec, Manet, Matisse, Picasso, Rembrandt, Renoir, Whistler… Unlike a museum though, these offerings are obtainable if one has deep enough pockets. The latest offerings are bright, colorful pieces by Alexandre Renoir, the great-grandson of Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

Along with various oils of landscapes and flowers, he has rendered his own interpretation of some of his Great-Grandfather’s most famous pieces most notably “Luncheon of the Boating Party” demonstrating the versatility and variety of the human continence and how even the slightest alteration of expression or feature can change our entire perception of a situation or a person. His work does homage to the genius of his Great-Grandfather, dissecting the symphony of the crowd and distilling each moment, each conversation, each individual grouping into its own private universe. He demonstrates how independently they hold their own as compositions, adding to the whole but not dependent on it to tell their own story.

Unlike Picasso who leaves the impression he had a very strange and fragmented perception of women or Dali who had a very desolate and fluid interpretation of the world with strange juxtapositions and combinations of seemingly incompatible objects, Pierre-Auguste Renoir and his Grandson Alexandre celebrate life in a brightly colorful and positive manner that is refreshingly happy and a pleasure to perceive. A pleasant gift to the senses that leaves one walking away with a smile. No small accomplishment in today’s world. All of them make it well worth a visit, at the very least, to Galerie Michael.