Bi-polar Moviegoing

With a long holiday weekend at hand, it was a perfect time to get lost in the movies. Unfortunately, Hollywood-2008 does little to help with suitable choices. Unless you're still trying to catch up on the Oscar nominations, a quick journey through the movie pages turns up nada. Some piece of grab named "Jumper." A bunch of mindless chick flicks timed for Valentine's Day.

More and more and more, I would much rather go see an old film than one of the CGI-laden toilet bowls Hollywood fancies these days. Luckily, in Los Angeles, classic movie excursions are an option, thanks to places like the Egyptian, the Aero, the Alex, the New Beverly, the Billy Wilder complex, and even LACMA.

So, on Saturday night, it was off to the stately Egyptian Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, which was in the midst of their film festival devoted to strippers. Yes, strippers. I repeat, strippers. The other curio about the bill of fare for Saturday was that, besides the film, we would be treated to a live performance by the "Miss Bonnie Delight Revue." Yes, Miss Bonnie Delight. I repeat, Miss Bonnie Delight. A live burlesque show. Radio City Music Hall with a g-string.

We were astounded by the demographic skew of the audience as it assembled. There were a lot of old men, all dressed in hideous pastel colored running suits. And there were almost as many older women, some perhaps in attendance to make doubly sure their husbands behaved themselves. It looked like the 4:30PM buffet line at Boston Market.

The stripper movie de jour was some piece of flotsam called "How To Be Very, Very Popular," one of those 20th Century Fox Cinemascope productions designed to lure people away from their new television sets with the promise of seeing Bob Cummings projected seven stories high. Betty Grable and Sheree North played strippers on the lam after witnessing a murder and that's as deep as the plot got. This was going to be Grable's last movie ever and she looked like she couldn't wait. She acted throughout the movie as if her car was double parked. Bob Cummings played a college student, but, indeed, he was already approaching the age of 50. And, of course, what can you say about a movie that features Orson Bean as a romantic interest? Nevertheless, this was Cinemascope in all its glory and I saw wrinkles on Bob Cummings that he probably never saw.

Then it was time for the live show. Our emcee for the evening was some Borscht Belt concoction named Shecky Greenblatt. His comedy was such that I finished every joke three seconds before he did.

"Man comes up to me on the street and says he hasn't had a bite in weeks. So I bit him."

Mercifully, this aural colonoscopy was just a prelude to the entrance of our headliner, Miss Bonnie Delight. If vaudeville is truly dead, then burlesque was still-born. Bonnie came out and proceeded to do the most uninspired strip tease ever. I've been more engaged watching women remove their nightguards. She, of course, eventually got down to the final reveal and the requisite twirl of the breasts, which had about as much excitement as the final spin on "Wheel of Fortune." She might as well have been trying on new jeans at Macy's. Of course, this was followed by some other chick who did a strip in reverse. She came out and got dressed in front of us. The rest of the show involved some audience participation, for which I missed the age qualification by some 30 years. The crowd hooted and hollered at every bump and grind offered by the audience members. My friend and I left for the safety of a hot fudge sundae.

Sunday afternoon promised to be a bit more productive for this moviegoer. The always reliable and wonderfully restored Aero Theater in Santa Monica has done a terrific job showcasing some mainstream classic movies on the weekend. This past Christmas week, for instance, they played a series of screwball comedy features that packed the joint. But, this time around, they had a really special treat. They were going to show everybody's favorite kid's movie from the 430PM Movie. "The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad."

First released in 1958, this film has a major cult following primarily because it is one of the first works of famed movie special effects artist Ray Harryhausen. Years before crappy CGI, this guy did it all as a one man band who created some of the greatest film monsters and creatures ever. In this movie alone, he conjured up two Cyclops, a two-headed vulture, a sword-wielding skeleton, and a dragon.

But, beyond the unspooling of the film, the Aero brought together a panel that would provide a live commentary track as the movie played. An ingenious idea made even more special with the inclusion of Mr. Harryhausen himself as well as the film's co-star, Mrs. Bing Crosby, better known as Kathryn Grant. Everyone was there to revel in it all, as the place was jammed to the rafters. When I saw Mrs Crosby sashaying down the aisle with her own bag of popcorn and a soda, I knew we were all here for some fun. It resembled very much a sci-fi convention, with people calling out questions for Ray throughout the movie. At one point, somebody yelled out and asked him how he achieved a particular effect. Ray's laughing reply: "None of your business." All of it wound up being a whole lot more entertaining than some piece of shit starring Will Smith.

The occasion also afforded me with the opportunity to spend some moments chatting with Ms. Grant-Crosby after the movie. I had a burning question for her, and that will be documented in an upcoming post. But, she was extremely gracious and engaging. However, as I was standing next to her, I couldn't help but think that Harryhausen himself might have been responsible for her last plastic surgery.

So, there you have it. Two days and two distinctly different filmgoing experiences. But, regardless, a good time was had by all at both events. Because, indeed, even a bad old movie can be better than the latest offering from the non-creative minds of Hollywood.

I can't close, however, without touching on one very bizarre occurence from the Egyptian on Saturday night. As we were waiting for the stripfest to begin, my friend and I were chattering away. There was a young, preppie-looking girl in the row ahead of us. She was wearing an orange Oregon State sweatshirt and holding a bag of popcorn. She turned to ask us if we were going to talk like that throughout the whole movie. We smiled and reminded her that we are the type of people who are quite nasty when it comes to other folks talking in the theater. As we chitchatted some more, the girl remarked how beautiful the Egyptian Theater was and how she had never been there before. Given the fact that she was probably the youngest person in the house that night and that this was ultimately a burlesque show, I innocently asked her why she chose this event to be her initial exposure to the Egyptian. She looked at me and said that she was here to see "Gone Baby Gone." I gave her the bad news and told her what was playing here this night. She swore she had seen a newspaper listing that said "Gone Baby Gone" was playing at the Egyptian. Dazed, she picked up her popcorn and left.

When I got home later that night, I did an internet search. The closest theater playing "Gone Baby Gone" was in La Mirada. I thought about this even further. The Egyptian is not a multi-plex. Indeed, the closest theater is several blocks away. What had this girl seen? Perhaps an Egyptian listing from a few months back when they did play "Gone Baby Gone" for one night. How could this poor thing be so far off from whatever her ultimate destination was? I'm still puzzled.

It just goes to show. Not only is it difficult to find the right movie, it can be even tougher to find the right theater.

Dinner last night: Pepperoni pizza at Maria's Italian Kitchen.