2011: All God's Chillun Go to Hebbin

Gosh, an honest-to-blog year-end wrap-up complete with Top Ten lists and everything...

Let's not and say we did.

The truth of the matter is that I'm not really feeling reflective at the moment, odd given the time of year. I suppose my lack of interest in this matter is given to the fact that I engage in this on a daily basis and frankly, I need a bit of a break and so do the rest of you. Can't we just forward with out looking back for a change? I'm not saying "Let's ignore history!" and embrace the ephemeral like the rest of society. No, I'm not conforming to the status quo. I'm just a little sick and tired of instant nostalgia. I want to earn my memories, not cater to them. As for those that I have, I'll wear them like badges of honor, leaving for more as times goes by because it ain't over 'til I sez it's over.

As for what I consider the Best of 2011, I feel ambivalent even mentioning them since it's just more of the same. I can say that the best movie I saw in theaters this year was Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris, but the ambiance and my frame of mind had just about everything to do with that choice. I saw it in Brooklyn (Woody's hometown) and I was on one of the best vacations of my entire life. The Book of Mormon was the best live theater event for me this year but once again, I saw it on Broadway and it was the only show I attended this year. (It's still superb, by the way) Do you need to know that I believe Breaking Bad had to be, hands down, the finest TV show of the year and one of the greatest entire seasons in broadcast history, every single episode a knockout? Well, now you do. I also echo just about the entire critical conclave when I say that TV outdid movies AGAIN this year, especially with shows like Treme, Justified, Louie, American Horror Story and Game of Thrones. Music-wise, I stand by my own assessment and choose as my favorite song Dig a Little Deeper from Moonshine Willy's 1998 album Bastard Child and if I hear Adele's Rolling in the Deep one more time, I am going to totally lose my shit. At my age, that's no idle threat. Book-wise, I'll gladly mention Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and hey, an actual title from 2011- Laura Hillebrand's brutally brilliant World War II survival non-fiction work, Unbroken. (Okay. I cheated. I didn't list a Top Ten, just some highlights. I guess I just couldn't resist. Old habits die hard.)

I will look back on 2011 fondly and with gritted teeth. The hardships have increased but it really does make the blessings that much sweeter. And no blessing was greater than the new girl in my life, my incredibly beautiful granddaughter Aefa, born May 31, 2011. It is because of Aefa and what she represents that I will greet 2012 with arms wide open. And that something is hope and with that, I can endure.

To you and yours out there, I wish the same. If you've never had it, find it. If you lost it, reclaim it. Hope will makes us stronger. Hope will allow us to move on. Hope will help us survive. It beats the holy hell out of surrendering.

As always, be good to each other and please be good to yourselves. You deserve it. We all do.

Happy New Year, gang. See you on the other side

Elfis Has Left the Building

A Christmas Tale from the Ville

When Andy Williams announced that it was “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”, the Palace Showboat Players heartily concurred.

The holidays meant a two-week hiatus for our year round theater and as a result our annual Christmas soiree could be held on a rare Saturday night off. Once we produced our own “Special Holiday Episode”, an adaptation of A Christmas Carol directed by Steve Orr and starring Bob Gossett as Scrooge. (My favorite casting was our resident bass player A. J. Joyce as the hippest Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come ever.) During this holiday break, we also took the opportunity to rent a mountain cabin for New Year’s Year, getting blissfully snowbound one year.

Best of all for the rapscallions, scalawags and ne’er-do-wells that occupied our fair theater, Christmas meant seasonal employment in the guise of a Santa Claus photo booth managed by our very own Cory Troxclair. While many at the Ville were upstanding citizens with decent paying jobs, there were those of us whose only source of income was whatever we made every Friday and Saturday night at Pollardville. This opportunity to make some easy Christmas cash-or any cash for that matter-was a welcome shot in the arm and a total kick in the ass.

Yes, we were indeed Santa’s little helpers Monday through Friday from the week before Thanksgiving right up until Christmas Eve. During the Monday through Friday daytime shift, Greg Pollard cashiered and I operated the camera, an extremely easy-peasy Polaroid system. I found I had an aptitude for taking these mini-portraits, using a stuffed monkey to distract the kids from the imminent horror of Santa’s lap and even managed to render many a smile. The Winter Wonderland set had been staged dead center in the mall and I felt like I had been the main attraction. Santa supported me, not the other way around. I’d hoot and holler, giggle and snort, do whatever I could to get a good picture. My best trick was to toss the monkey straight up to the mall’s ceiling and when it fell, I’d snap the shot just as I caught it. My success rate was not bad if I do say so myself.

That first year, we were dressed rather dapper in our white dress shirts, red vests and black tuxedo pants. We could have passed for waiters at swank holiday buffet. We even gave ourselves aliases. Greg, deep into his Elvis phase, became (naturally) Elfis. I, on the other hand, named myself Elfalfa.

With Cory as Santa, the three of us were the A Team, if that title could actually apply to anyone who worked in a mall, especially on a temporary basis.

However, Cory couldn’t don the Santa suit every day since his managerial duties got in the way, so he also hired Bill, another friend of his who wasn’t part of the Ville, for the role of jolly St. Nick. Honestly, Bill seemed a little smarmy to me. Certainly not a bad looking guy even camouflaged in his Santa disguise, he incessantly flirted with every woman in the mall. His striking blue eyes were straight out of House Atreides and twinkled from behind that white beard. Any female that passed by our booth received all-too-obvious winks and blatantly blown kisses. Santa was quite the playa.

During a late afternoon lull when no one seemed to be visiting Santa, Elfalfa left jolly St. Bill propped in his chair to chat with Elfis. He was deep in the throes of Song Hits magazine, Elvis edition, memorizing the lyrics of one of the King’s hits for the special show we were putting together for the upcoming Ville Christmas party.

“Uh oh,” Elfis said as he looked toward Santa. “Looks like Santa’s finally hooked one.”

Elfalfa turned to see an apparently lovely young lady speaking with Santa from outside the Winter Wonderland. She had actually been the first woman we noticed that actually stopped when Santa Bill blew her a kiss. It appeared to be a very animated conversation.

“And she’s headed this way,” Elfalfa noticed as this filly sauntered forth to the cashier’s station. She seemed very familiar to me.

“May I borrow your pen?” she asked with Elfis complying as she scribbled down a phone number on a napkin from her purse. “Could you give this to Santa please?”

“I sure will,” Elfis agreed and we watched her glide away. On the napkin, she had written the name Monique and her number.

“Monique. I knew it,” Elfalfa said.

“You know her?” Elfis asked.

“We both do,” Elfalfa answered and proceeded to remind his fellow elf who, where and well, what.

In the spring of that year, the Ville became the venue for that year’s local Closet Ball. Drag queens from all over the San Joaquin Valley and beyond converged on the theater that Sunday night giving it the appearance of a stopover in Cher’s farewell tour. The evening turned out be, to borrow a word, fabulous, certainly one of the most memorable in that theater’s history. A couple of years later, the same group returned to host one of the first AIDS benefits in the area that I was honored to emcee.

But it was at that first Ball that we first encountered Monique. A fellow Palace Showboat Player told us he had gone to Delta College with Monique before she was Monique She was Marty. But in all honesty and stacked up against at least half of the attendees to the Closet Ball, Marty made a fairly convincing Monique. He wasn’t exactly Pricilla, Queen of the Desert, but he wasn’t Rob Schneider as The Hot Chick either. Let’s just say there might be a gray area that would exist outside the confines of the Closet Ball.

And that’s where we were that holiday season. The question was: Should we tell Santa Bill?

The answer to that would have “Of course” if Santa Bill wasn’t so obnoxious about the whole thing. He wouldn’t shut up about it from the moment he met Monique and lorded it over our heads like he was the original American Gigolo wearing a mistletoe belt buckle.

“Oh, man She is just smokin’ hot. We’re going a drink after work. Monique. Moan-nique. She’s gonna moan alright. Oh yeah. You guys you could do as well as Santa. Well, Santa’s gonna find who’s naughty or nice. If Monique’s naughty, that’ll be nice!” On the set. Off the set. During lunch. After lunch. Between kids sitting on his lap, for crying out loud. “Hurry up and take that picture. Let’s get this line moving. The lady’s waiting for me. Ho ho ho, Mo-nique!” He wouldn’t shut up it.

So did Elvis and Elfalfa tell Santa Bill the secret of The Crying Game?

Nahhhhhhhhhhh.

The next day, Santa Bill returned to the Winter Wonderland a changed man. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t blow kisses. He didn’t say a word about his date with Monique. Something had dulled Santa’s claws. From there on in Santa Bill just went through the motions and, by season’s end, we never saw or heard from him again.

Don’t think we didn’t come out of this unscathed. When Elvis and Elfalfa returned the following year, Weberstown Mall management dictated that we wear white smocks, sock hats, red sweat pants, green tights and felt booties over our own shoes. Needless to say, I didn’t need the monkey to make kids smile anymore. All they had to do was look at me. Elvis and Elfalfa were no longer the cool elves. We had been put back in our places as Santa’s little helpers only now we had to dress the part.

Sometimes a lump of coal in a Christmas stocking is just a metaphor for karma, balancing out the universe once again, one elf at a time.

Merry Christmas to y'all and to y'all, good night already!

Professor Griffin Makes Me Want to Shout

The winner of the GoodReads book giveaway contest is Michelle Kobus of Douglas, GA. Congratulations, Michelle. She beat out 380 other entrants and wins a signed copy of
IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER (SPECIAL EDITION)

IN THE DARK was reviewed on the one and only Joe Briggs' website by an honest to God Texan TV legend.


In The Dark: A Life and Times in a Movie Theater by Scott Cherney

Reviewed by Joseph Fotinos (Legendary Austin, Texas Horror Film TV Host Professor Anton Griffin)

Scott Cherney loves movies. No, wait, I take that back, his life IS a movie. He sees things through the camera's eye and his life has very dramatic fades, cuts, edits and sometimes even special effects.Cherney weaves a fascinating tale of his obsession with the silver screen. Written in a very friendly and easy-going style, the book exudes enthusiasm and will strike anyone who grew up watch slews of movies (like I did) like a reflection of days gone by and the simple magical pleasure of being carried away by movies.

The book doesn't focus on the films themselves, although some films like "Gone With the Wind," "The Exorcist" and "Citizen Kane" are singled out. Rather he focuses on a life filled with movies and the circumstances surrounding the experiences. In a very pleasant way, it's like sharing a long car ride with a friend and telling stories.Growing up in Stockton, California, Cherney began his obsession with films at a very early age, and his heroes, detailed in a chapter called "The Good, the Bad and The Undead," included James Bond, The Man with No Name and Count Dracula. His moviegoing experiences included visits to New York (and almost getting hustled inside a seedy theatre in Times Square) and working and eventually managing a theatre along with all the friendships, baggage and enemies that those kinds of experiences will give you. One of the most dramatic moments in his life include being robbed at gunpoint in the lobby of a movie theatre, an event that he describes as dramatically as any scene in a movie.

Finally, and unfortunately, Cherney gives himself a chapter called "Shots in The Dark--A State of the Cinema Address" to rant a bit. As a lover of movies, he opens the floodgates of anger and really seethes about the things that annoy every moviegoer. Crying children, cell phones, talking in a movie are all singled out and skewered in a sometimes very vulgar manner and punctuated with a whole lot of written SHOUTING! After reading the enjoyable first half of the book and being subjected to last half, I must say I agree with most everything he says, but I was really disappointed he couldn't find a much more enjoyable and clever way to say it. Instead we have to read an entire chapter filled with how HE is superior to US, the movie going public of today, as WE don't understand the beauty of his experiences in the movie theater because WE live in a DISPOSABLE world that HE has refused to join . . . etc.

The overall feeling I had was that Scott Cherney is a good guy, one that I think I'd like to know. Heck, I've known many guys like him in my moviegoing life and found myself sharing a lot of the same experiences with most of the films he covers. Sure, he sometimes comes across as crotchety and a classic curmudgeon, but Cherney's love of the classic moviegoing experience is certainly entertaining. Even if he does tend to SHOUT A BIT!

Three and a half stars. (out of four)

Thanks, Professor. Follow Professor Anton Griffin's Midnight Shadow Show on Facebook.

See? I printed this review, warts and all. That's the kinda guy I am.

IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER (SPECIAL EDITION) is now on sale in paperback and Kindle from Amazon and Scott Cherney's Storefront

Buy it! Don't make me SHOUT AT YOU!

You STILL Only Live Twice

Now playing in Mind's Eye Cinema: Bond, James Bond

(http://www.facebook.com/mindseyecinema)

To commemorate that occasion, please enjoy another clip from In the Dark: A Life and Times in a Movie Theater (Special Edition)

Late in 1967 came the summer release of the next “official” 007 film and my sentimental favorite, You Only Live Twice. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21poI4ZmIRU)

Granted, From Russia with Love and Goldfinger are better films overall, but Twice is the one I could claim as my very own, mainly because I was allowed to see it all by my lonesome without parental supervision. It was a milestone in my movie-going career and I took full advantage of it. I felt like I had spent the entire summer at the Esquire Theater watching Twice, though the actual total came to 9 times. I became such a regular, the manager put me to work a few times, which I did gleefully, tearing ticket stubs and closing the auditorium at show time. He repaid me with free popcorn and a cardboard cutout of Connery as Bond holding a space helmet in one hand and a Walther PPK in the other, which was part of a lobby display (shades of Bambi!)Though only twelve years old at the time, I became friendly with the nineteen-year-old concession stand worker, a cute girl named Denise, who helped get me into her karate class, something I wanted to do as a result of seeing You Only Live Twice. The karate, that is, not the nineteen-year-old girl. I was twelve! If something had happened between the two of us, don’t you think I would have told you?)

You Only Live Twice had all the elements I wanted in a Bond movie. The then-exotic locale of Japan was fascinating. The women were all hot and, at twelve, I was really beginning to take notice (forget the nineteen-year-old already!) John Barry’s music is both exciting and romantic as only his can be. The final battle sequence set in the volcano rocket base, an outstanding production design by Ken Adam, is a jaw-dropping action sequence to this very day. Donald Pleasance is absolutely wonderful as Bond’s chief villain, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Mike Myers must have thought so too since his character of Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers series is undoubtedly a burlesque Blofeld. Then there was one of the high points of every young boy’s life when he discovers what a ninja is, introduced to the cinematic world in this film.

Since the introduction of Bond’s gadget laden Aston Martin in Goldfinger, each preceding film had a new vehicle for him to commandeer and Twice is no exception. This introduced a mini-helicopter named Little Nellie, complete with machine guns and other implements of destruction. Years later, I had a 1979 Honda Civic that had the color and near size of a cough drop. As a tribute, I named her…you guessed it, Little Nellie. Many a time, I wished Q were my mechanic.

One single camera shot in You Only Live Twice totally epitomized the entire James Bond persona to me. In the middle of the film, there is a long shot of Bond fighting the bad guys on a warehouse roof. The camera pulls back just as Barry’s theme music reprises. It is a moment frozen in my time and made me swell with an excitement I’d never felt before. Here in these few seconds is everything I felt a movie hero should be, one guy against ‘em all-and winning.

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-c7hzHwETyk)

In the Dark: A Life and Times in a Movie Theater is available in paperback and Amazon Kindle

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/scottcherney

http://www.amazon.com/Scott-Cherney/e/B004KJOHN8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

P.S. The title of this blog is intentionally lame. It's a reference to the sequel of I Know What You Did Last Summer, the insipidly named I Still Know What You Did Last Summer.

I know what I'm doing...some of the time.