It is a beautiful day in Southern California… too cold for me, of course, but almost 70 degrees with the sun shining and… on this Sunday afternoon… smack dab between volatile windstorms.
When I was a kid out here in the greater LA area, I remember looking forward to the Santa Ana (so-called) “Devil Winds.” It was so special… the hot wind blowing in from the desert in the middle of January, warming everything up and clearing out the smog from our city and suburban skies as the wind patterns were reversed from the norm, now flowing from land to sea, instead of the usual offshore marine layer coming over the basin to cool everything down.
If you went to the beach during those days of the Santa Anas, the skies were the bluest you could ever remember seeing, but out there on the horizon, there was a black horizontal Crayola-like line that was all the gunk that the winds had taken from our city and deposited at sea.
There was something very sensual and downright sexy about it as well. At least that is what I remember from my teenage years. In fact, I cannot recall anything but welcoming thoughts about those winds… until now.
I am out here in the land of my birth, recovering from a surgical procedure. The repairs to the Fisher Island sea wall and other infrastructure upgrades made the decision to leave my Florida island a little easier… especially when Thanksgiving and Christmas were factored in along with my kids and theirs, who almost all reside in Southern California. What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The alarm to evacuate the small Studio City house where I have been recuperating came unexpectedly. I made the (I thought) very educated choice to reserve a room at a hotel in downtown LA… far from any of the madness of the multiple fire zones plaguing the area. My thought was, with thousands of newly homeless people coming into town from the beaches and the Palisades, the nearby hotels of Beverly Hills would be jammed. Score one for me. There was plenty of room at the inn downtown.
The night in that hotel bed was less comfortable than I had hoped as I began to remember the things I probably should have taken with me. Then came the dawn with the “All Clear” from Studio City… the evacuation of my neighborhood was no longer mandatory.
People had lost their homes… some, their lives. I continued to live under the lucky star that has been there in the heavens my entire life.
Back at the Studio City house I began to watch MSNBC’s Katy Tur. Turns out she was born and raised in California’s Pacific Palisades and now she was back there in that Southern California residential community on assignment in what looked like something we have all become accustomed to seeing in reports from the Gaza Strip. Her interviews with contemporaries who had been living in the community she once occupied… who had children in the schools she once attended… were made even more poignant by the unhappy fact that this community… those schools… were now all rubble that would take years to reconstruct.
There on TV was failed mayoral candidate, Rick Caruso, blaming his former opponent, the current mayor, for failures of preparation for a disaster the likes of which had never been seen in any American city in history. The Palisades fire alone (one of several such blazes in Southern California) covered a larger geographic space than the entire borough of Manhattan in New York. There was the fire in Altadena which was also massive in a community that had never had anything of this magnitude happen in its past. A large fire in Woodland Hills and one in the hills of Hollywood as well.
Caruso reminded me of our recent national elections and of my oft-stated thesis that we get the kind of leadership we get because, if nothing else, Americans are good at watching television and these bombastic blamers and shamers make for good TV.
There is something else we, as a people, are very good at, and that is evading or avoiding paying taxes. As a society, we have all pretty much agreed that if there is a loophole… take it. Face it, few ever say, if there is a loophole, fill it; correct it for the greater good of all.
The current LA mayor, who has been in office less than two years, should not be the target for malfeasance. It is us, and our parents… and their parents… who continually and perpetually squeezed politicians and government coffers so as not to allow for the kind of infrastructure to be constructed that would support the ever increasing/sprawling population of a place such as Southern California.
The damns, the aqueducts, the methods of supplying sufficient water for emergencies such as fires, the burying of power lines underground, the recognition of a thing called Global Warming and doing something about it… all these things cost money, and government gets its money from taxes, which seemingly all its citizens want to lower… or not pay at all. News flash: you cannot have it both ways.
Readers of these missives know I have recently driven across the country… 24 days on the blue lane highways from Miami Beach to Los Angeles. I can report that the worst roads I encountered on that trip were in Southern California. Potholes, cracked sidewalks, and a failing infrastructure are evident throughout LA. It has been a long time since Ronald Reagan made it okay to disregard the true function of government with his too-clever-by-half remark:
“…the nine most terrifying words in the English language are I’m from the government and I’m here to help.”
Our 40th President spoke those words, and since that time, nearly every US politician has had to heed the “wisdom” of that mocking comment, or face the consequences at election time.
Something wiser was said a few years before Reagan by a cartoon character named Pogo when he uttered, “…We have met the enemy, and he is us.”
“…Each country has the government it deserves”, Winston Churchill said. He might well have added… “and is willing to pay for.”
“Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Try having that in the 21st century without a flushing toilet, or running water, or adequate protection from wind-driven flames. Hell, most of us have discovered we cannot have those basic things without a cellphone.
There is an old show business joke— the punchline is “…pay the two dollars.” Until we are willing to do just that… to ante up and collectively pay the toll that our modern society requires… the depressing, life-altering, awful consequence that has hit my old hometown in the past few days will be merely the Coming Attractions… events that will be “coming soon” to a community near you.
BACK IN PARADISE
Still nursing a small case of L.A. Nose, I am back in the land of Ponce de Leon and already feeling younger, better, and… no question about it… warmer. I am not, however, feeling particularly charitable toward the collection of films I have seen of late but have yet to review. Let me start with the smallest of a long list which begins with three documentaries: Martha, The Bibi Files and Waltzing with Brando, all three may be seen on Netflix.
OK, OK, I know, the latter is not really a documentary… but I didn’t know that for most of the time I was watching the “biographical film.” Billy Zane, the producer and star of the project, does such a good Brando that I thought I was watching archival home movie footage of the super star, rather than an actor’s interpretation … AND I WORKED WITH BRANDO ON TWO FILMS! Admittedly, it was almost 60 years ago, but…. one does not forget Marlon Brando (well, apparently one does). Actor Zane really had me fooled, but that said… in all candor, I cannot imagine why anyone made this film or why anyone other than folks like me would be interested in watching the thing. I could go on, but why? Only a Brando freak could possibly enjoy this movie, and I am betting there are not too many of us left.
Martha, as you may have surmised is the very same Martha Stewart of food and fashion fame. Oftentimes, an individual must die before a documentary about their life is warranted—in this instance a successful career and a prison sentence suffices. The film is pretty good and worthy of your time on Netflix provided you have any interest in documentaries or the lady herself.
The Bibi Files might be truly scandalous if one never watched MSNBC or read a newspaper. There is a lot of footage leaked from what are reportedly confidential interviews between Israeli authorities and Mr. Netanyahu… who comes off as a junior league Bob Menendez, settling as he does for cigars for himself and cases of champagne for his wife. Sort of a yawn. Personally, I honestly believe Israel’s prime minister is a much bigger crook, and guilty of a whole lot more than this film implies, but not only are the cops not asking those questions, the filmmakers themselves barely scratch the surface of corruption.
Nosferatu is another film about which I would advise fellow audience members to forgo. The original, a silent classic made in 1922 by director F.W. Murnau…. set a standard and had a definite look… both cinematically and in the way Count Dracula was to be portrayed. For whatever reason this latest version of the mother of all suckers (what, too crude?) tries hard to emulate that original look in an attempt, I suppose, to prove the old saw that sexiness is in the groin of the beholder. Versions of Dracula between the two Nosferatus had the Count looking a lot more interesting to the female of the species… as well as audience members. Whomever it was that came up with the line, “Don’t be afraid… only one moment of pain and then… eternal life” never saw this movie to realize just how long a “moment” can be… or how painful. If you insist, it may be viewed on Amazon Prime.
Part One of Wicked is two hours and forty minutes long…. And there is no Dorothy! Part Two will not appear anywhere locally until next fall so don’t even think about making a Barbie/Oppenheimer kind of evening at your local theatre. This movie gives “over the top” new meaning. It is very overblown, very gay, and very green. The yellow brick road is a long and winding thing, but once we actually arrive at the Emerald City the pace begins to pick up. The fact that it takes the better part of two hours to get there is… you should excuse the expression… a Shanda… not only for the neighbors, but for anyone watching.
I’m Still Here is a true story out of the Brazil of over a half century ago with the very real feeling of don’t be surprised if it happens here. The politics of a police state in action and its impact on a loving and loveable family is truly poignant and, understandably, it is winning a plethora of awards internationally. Fernanda Torres took the Golden Globe for Best Actress and is nominated for an Oscar for her role in the film. The movie is too long at two hours and 18 minutes but not so long as to be off-putting. In these days where authoritarians seem to be cropping up all over the planet, a movie with this kind of content should be required viewing. See it on Netflix.
The hot motion picture of the year is about capitalism, antisemitism, addiction, immigration, fidelity, art and architecture, as well as having at its core, strong sexual themes. The Brutalist is on everyone’s list of favorites to win multiple Academy Awards. Maybe. I would readily agree that it is an important film but would quickly add that it is also a most uneven one. There were times where I found the filmmaking itself to be downright klutzy…. plenty of moments of taking time (sometimes too much time) to make a point and others, where important moments are practically thrown away. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good movie, but not (as advertised) a great one.
Finally…. I needed a break and Turner Classic Movies provided me one with the original A Star is Born starring Fredric March and Janet Gaynor. Like most of you, I had seen versions two, three, and four (Judy Garland/James Mason… Barbra Streisand/Kris Kristofferson…Lady Gaga/Bradley Cooper) but I had never seen the Selznick Production that started it all. Janet Gaynor was nearing the end of her career when the movie was made nearly 90 years ago… by then really a bit long in the tooth to play this role… but Mr. March was fabulous and so is this movie. By far the best of all the Star is Born idiom… and, in fact, the best of all that are mentioned in today’s Notes From a Warm Island.
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