Arturo Schwarz 1924-2021

 

Summer 2021. Mixed on paper

 

Christian Boltanski 1944-2021

 

joseph Raffael 1933-2021

 

L.A. Plays Itself. 2003

 

I love this long documentary on L.A and it’s history with the movies and Hollywood. It’s long for sure over 3 hours and I watched it in two evenings. This is the beautiful achievement of  Thom Andersen who does the narration. Some complain about his droning voice but I liked it. He’s very opinioned and grouchy but I also liked that. There’s no map to the stars here, you just let it flow over you from the silent years to more recent times, with many many clips of movies flying by us. Anderson covers everything: crime, both real and fiction, heroes and villians, (lots of those) architecture, landscapes of the city, disappearing landmarks, the destruction of the city, racism and much more on top of the main focus of the documentary, how L.A. made and makes our movies. I was naturally interested in the black and white noirish years, with all those cop cars racing through the dark dank L.A. Streets and when Bunker Hill was still there. He starts the film with the great opening from Sammy Fuller’s “Crimson Kimono” where the stripper goes running down the scummy downtown streets trying to get away from her killer. Oh Sam we miss you. Not all of the films that I love are included, so I could have relished another hour of film if it existed. He spends a lot of time on “Chinatown” and “Blade Runner” and some of the directors who put the city down most notably Woody Allen. I’m torn. I’ve been to L.A. three times, too briefly although the first time was an all day outing there with art grad students from UCSD and Moira Roth the then chair of the art dept. We had a bus, and we had to go where Moira wanted us to go so my time on Hollywood Blvd. was brief. A lot of this city is ugly sorry but it is, but I loved the ruins of kitsch that I was still able to find in 1982. There I was in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre like every low tourist on the town.  I wish I had gone in, but the movie playing “Tootsie” did not interest me and thought to myself that it would be a big flop. Never listen to me on the hits and misses of movies.

The strip was tawdry but as a lover of Times Square and Coney Island in the 50’s and 60’s that didn’t bother me. On our trip we went to this kitschy cemetery whose name I’ve blocked. I didn’t want to go, a waste of my precious L.A. time, but I was outnumbered. I sat through this campy film in the cemetery’s auditorium, as the Grads went wild with yelling out rude remarks. I probably laughed. We were asked to leave. There is a photograph of me standing in front of the huge repro. of  David. We also went to one of the great L.A. Wright houses and the other place that stands out for me was Barney’s Beanery where I freaked when I saw they still had their vile Fagots stay out sign still up and this was 1982. It was also printed on matches  which I wish I had kept. I complained through the whole trip back to San Diego. The other quick trips were with students, and they gave me the choice of going to the L.A. County Museum with them or spending time by myself. Fuck art I told them, pick me up in front of Grauman’s in a couple of hours. There was dinner in “Little Tokyo” and a beautiful drive through Beverly Hills, and my jaw dropping over all the great movie palaces still standing. The traffic and the smog.    

Seven Seconds. 2018 Netflix

 

A compelling if somewhat familiar 10 hour urban thriller that focuses on the death of a young black boy. He’s  killed by accident while riding his bike in a rough hewed park on the outskirts of Jersey City. The accidental killing was caused by a young rookie cop (beautifully acted by the sad eye Beau Knapp) on his hurried way to visit his wife in the hospital as she gave birth, and this is the start of big errors and lousy cops.

The series hemorrhages from a long line of cop shows most notably “The Wire” and has all the usual suspects in tow. There are the bad and evil cops, common urban problems, family difficulties and fights, poverty, drug use, crimes in the streets, corruption behind political closed doors, intrigue and racism. However no matter how pat this show is, it’s  still way above most of the ones that came before it because of the strong writing and great acting. These two qualities go hand in hand and if they falter so do the shows.

The cast was somewhat familiar to me, a face here and there that I’ve seen before, but most were unknown and new to me. The performances were for the most part high octane and some were even staggering especially the young black actress Clare-Hope Ashitey (terrible name) who plays the young assistant prosecutor who takes the murder to trial. She’s flawed. Alcoholic  and distressed and not fitting the M.O. for this kind of character. She was raised in an affluent family with a big house and privileges and we get a glimpse of her background when she returns to her sprawling home for a birthday party that turns bad. She is promiscuous and a bad drunk lashing out at most and Ashitey’s   performance is touching and raw, one of the best I’ve seen in a long time. Also great is Michael Mosley who plays an internal affairs detective who winds up working with her to bring justice to the bereaved family. Mosely nicknamed “Fish” is a gum chewing divorced dad with lots of attitude and lots of dogs living with him. As I said the characters are beautifully written and really give the familiar halls and closets a big bang for their buck. They are paper bags full of surprises. There are also some surprising sidebars including a gay one  and some shocks that are unexpected. Also (and this is a big also) in the cast is the great Regina King and she gives another wonderful performance as the young boy’s tormented mother and proves once again why she is one of our great actresses. Just her voice alone makes me swoon. Sadly there is only one season to this series, supposedly a second one was planned but was cancelled, a shame because there are some loose ends hanging at the end.  

 

Episodes 2011-2017

 

Only 28 minutes in length, this series about a British pair of writers who are married to each other and are plopped down in L.A. where they are hired to transfer their hit t.v. series for American audiences. Talk about plop. This is easily one of the funniest series I’ve ever seen, its fast, loose and outrageous. It takes on and takes down every subject that was floating around in our collective consciousness circa 2011 including sex, gay relationships, greed, the emptiness of television, envy, extramarital relationships, family traumas, and lack of loyalty in everything. It’s also hilarious with razor sharp writing and great performances. The leads, the married couple who push the series forward are played by Stephen Mangan (new to me) and the great Tamsin Greig who has recently popped up a lot in my television viewing. Also in the cast is Matt LeBlanc who plays himself and its here that I have to say that I cannot stand him. He repulses and offends me, and he is the punching bag of the series, he’s mocked, ridiculed and made to look ridiculous in his costume of vanity and superficiality. He plays an actor of course who  is without any redeeming qualities, he is vulgar and low. That said he is also very funny. The cast is full of rich characters most of them extreme, loud and funny who push the envelope. The married couple have mixed feelings about L.A. (most of the show was actually filmed in London) that go from amazement to vocal disgust. Highly recommended.      

Stick Figure Poetry Magazine

 Cover features a work on paper that I did. 

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