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CONTENTS March 12-18, 2009 volume 7 issue 11

18 04 News

Matthew Fleischer considers democracy in the coke capital of L.A. County from behind the tinted glass of a booze-cruising stretch Escalade

06 On the Cover

Paul Brennan and Will Swaim cook up M.F.K. Fisher’s homebrew vodka. Nathaniel Page goes brown-bagging 211 in Chinatown’s newest park. Sarah Tressler dives into one of the city’s oldest gay bars. Tom Child and Tony Millionaire share a beer over the phone. Plus the favorite watering holes of local notables

12 Film

Tom Child sits conspicuously alone amidst a crowd of children at Race to Witch Mountain, but finds enough entertainment to distract

Music: Those Darlins

him from feeling too creepy. Ron Garmon says A Boy and His Dog is a pungent and bleakly funny dirty joke now impossible to tell in public – thank God, then, for the New Beverly Cinema

18 Music

Chris Ziegler on Arthur Verocai, Richard Swift and Those Darlins. Alan Rich didn’t expect much of the Vienna Philharmonic, and they delivered no more

21 Art

Ron Garmon comes face-to-mug with the garish colors and meat-axe materialism of Wainer Vaccari’s boxing images

23 Eat

Miles Clements discovers downtown’s best bar food

MANAGING Editor Tom Child Executive Editor Chris Ziegler Senior Editor Matthew Fleischer Arts Editor Ron Garmon Copy Editor Joshua Sindell Editorial Contributors Miles Clements, Alan Rich, Richard Foss, Carl Kozlowski, Joe Piasecki, Don Shirley, Greg Stacy, Jeffrey Anderson, Cornel Bonca, David Cotner, Daiana Feuer, Oliver Hall RESEARCH Guelda Voien Editorial Interns Sarah Tressler Art Director Paul Takizawa Web & Print Production Manager Meghan Quinn Classified Production Artist Tac Phun Contributing Artists and Photographers Joe McGarry, Luke McGarry, Josh Reiss, Rosheila Robles Sales DIrector Michael DeFilippo Sales Supervisor Bill Child Co-op Advertising Director Spencer Cooper Music & Entertainment Sales Manager Jon Bookatz Account Executives Patrick Hodgins, Andy Enriquez, Alex Kaptsan, John Schoenkopf, Jason Stanley VP of Operations David Comden VP of Finance Michael Nagami Human Resources Manager Andrea Baker Accounting Ginger Wang, Archie Iskaq, Tracy Lowe, Christie Lee, Angela Wang (Business Manager) Circulation Supervisor Andrew Jackson Receptionist Candon Murry Publisher Will Swaim LA CITY BEAT newspaper is published every Thursday and is available free at locations throughout Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley. One copy per reader, additional copies are $10 each. Copyright: No articles, illustrations, photographs, or other editorial matter or advertisements herein may be reproduced without written permission of copyright owner. All rights reserved, 2009.

HOW TO REACH US 5209 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90036 (323) 938-1700 Classified Advertising: (323) 938-1001 • Fax: (323) 938-1661 • SUBSCRIPTIONS One year: $149 (Mailed 1st Class)

March 12-18, 2009 3 LACITYBEAT



trunk in public

The Cudahy Booze Cruise Electioneering has never been this much fun By Matthew Fleischer The old man looks nervous. I can’t say that I blame him. We’re sitting in the back of a stretched Escalade limousine, surrounded by somber men in dark suits and sunglasses. It’s Election Day in the Southeast L.A. County city of Cudahy, and campaign fliers for incumbent mayor David Silva and his running mate Josue Barrios sit in a pile next to the old man. He picks one up and holds it between his legs with both hands, fiddling with it like a charm. Stockpiled in front of us is an impressive selection of booze: Patrón

tequila, Rémy Martin and several bottles of champagne. Since the polls opened this morning, this limousine has gone house to house, picking up voters, and dropping them off at the polls. Judging from the collection of used glasses filling the limousine’s cup holders, they had a pretty good time while doing so. For the past 20 minutes, the limo has been camped in front of City Hall, right next to a polling station. Outside, as voters stream by, more men in suits gather by the entrance to the building, chatting gregariously. Speaking only

for myself, they project an air of menace and authority. Most are city employees, like two-time felon and Cudahy administrative clerk Gerardo Vallejo. Police officers drive by and wave to Vallejo. This is not particularly reassuring. On a previous trip to Cudahy, several weeks ago, I saw a city vehicle packed with the mayor’s campaign signs parked in front of Vallejo’s house. That’s a violation of County election law – using city resources to promote one candidate over the other. No charges were ever

LACITYBEAT 4 MARCH 12-18, 2009

brought, however. A county official in the D.A.’s office declared the infraction “minimal and incidental.” This is just the second election in Cudahy in the past decade. The last election in 2007 was marred by reports of gang presence at the polls. In that election and this one, candidates running against the status quo have faced death threats, arson and vandalism of their homes and property. Despite nearly a dozen such incidents in the past two years, the Los Angeles County Registrar Recorder has refused to send an election monitor to Cudahy. In their absence, I’ve come to Cudahy to look for violations of election laws. I’m no lawyer, but it sure seems to me like I’m sitting in an election violation right now. My laissez-faire attitude toward fashion and basic personal hygiene make it a stretch to peg me as a reporter, and get me inside the limo. But my attempts to strike up a conversation with the men in suits go unanswered. It could be because I’m a six-foot-two scruffy white guy in a city that’s 95 percent Latino. I’m not exactly inconspicuous. As the doors to the limo shut, and we start to drive away, I’m nervous. One week earlier I’d written a story comparing Cudahy to Afghanistan. Not a good way to make friends. And this is not a good town to be friendless in. Nearly a third of the police force that patrols Cudahy had ethical violations on their records when they were hired or have run into trouble while on the force. Crime reports for the last 30 years show that Cudahy is a major gateway for drug trafficking – not just in L.A. but throughout the country. At least four known gangs control the city streets by night. In my mind one, and perhaps only one, thing is clear: looking out the tinted windows of a stretch limo,

NEWS American democracy looks a whole lot different in Cudahy. So, does parking your stretch limo outside a polling station, stocking it with campaign literature and plying voters with alcohol constitute an election violation? The answer, it seems, is that no one knows for sure. The California state elections code is remarkably vague – stating simply that no one may “do any electioneering” within 100 feet of the polls. Though the code is hundreds of pages long, nowhere does it give an actual definition of electioneering. In a 2008 legal memo, California Secretary of State Debra Bowen defined electioneering as “[a]ny message that can be reasonably connected to a candidate or measure that is on the ballot.” That memo, however, is not law. “Ultimately,” says Bowen spokesperson Kate Folmar, “it’s up for a jury to decide.” And that makes a prosecutor’s job extremely tricky. “For as long as I’ve been here we’ve never actually prosecuted an electioneering violation,” says David Demerjian, who runs the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s public

integrity division. Part of the problem is finding witnesses to accurately document the nature of the election fraud. In this regard, the first line of defense is supposed to be the local police department. “It’s often the case that police will be reluctant to get involved when the incident involves an active city councilmember,” says Demerjian. “They fear political reprisal.” That makes an independent election monitor crucial in a city like Cudahy. But, says Demerjian, “We do not preemptively monitor elections. If a violation is reported, we send an investigator.” A few days later, Demerjian tells me that his office heard no word from Cudahy on Election Day. Of course, the body that could have monitored the election, the L.A. County RegistrarRecorder, stayed home on Election Day. Registar-Recorder/County Clerk Dean Logan admits his office received a call before the election from County Supervisor Gloria Molina expressing her lack of faith in the legitimacy of the Cudahy electoral process. “In response,” Logan says, “we spoke with Cudahy’s City Clerk and made him aware of both our and Supervisor

Molina’s concerns.” Molina’s office didn’t return calls for comment by deadline. Logan says that without the consent of the city, his office doesn’t have the mandate to provide oversight in a local election. However, given the cloudy definition of electioneering, an election monitor could have helped law enforcement officials build a case by serving as witnesses in a trial – a point that is now moot. What about the booze, though? Electioneering aside, California has a law against giving gifts in exchange for votes. “For California elections, as opposed to elections that involve any federal offices, it is not illegal to offer something of value in order to encourage someone to vote, but only to vote in a particular manner,” explains Fredric D. Woocher, a lawyer and election expert with Strumwasser & Woocher LLP. “Of course, one would surely prefer that the liquor be provided after the voters cast their ballots than before.” Demerjian says, either way, he would need multiple witnesses to come forward to say they were offered alcohol in exchange for their votes to have any

shot at building a case. Based on my limo ride, that isn’t going to happen. The men in suits are far too savvy to be so explicit. Rolling from City Hall to a polling station across town, the men in suits barely say a word, other than fielding calls in Spanish about where to pick up voters. Halfway there, one of the men relaxes enough to allow himself a glass of Rémy Martin. “Where are you from, anyway?” he finally asks me, after a few sips. “I work around here,” I reply. We leave it at that. When the old man gets out to vote a few minutes later, I get out with him. I don’t know whether I’m being paranoid or am rightfully scared. Cudahy will do that to you. “You have to hand it to them: they have a serious political machine,” Luis Garcia, who ran against Mayor Silva and his limos, tells me later. “Elections are just about the only time you’re going to see stretch limousines in Cudahy.” In the end, perhaps elections in Cudahy aren’t all that different from anywhere else in America. Money talks. Silva and Barrios won in a landslide.✶

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MARCH 12-18, 2009 5 LACITYBEAT




Light Of Love

On not being scared to drink at the Spotlight By Sarah Tressler waiting outside when I got here,” he says. At the end of the bar, I see an elderly man in an English driving cap munching on the tortilla chips the bar hands out with drinks. Ben confirms that he’s Don Samuels. Before I make my way to the man in charge, I chat with 79-year-old Floyd Wightman, a retiree who formerly worked in corrections for the California Youth Authority. Floyd’s been haunting the Spotlight since the ’50s, before the original – on Vine and Selma – burned down. “I come here almost every night. It’s a kind of like a neighborhood bar,” he says. “When people come in, you don’t bother them, they don’t bother you. They are very friendly. People are very congenial, they’re very pleasant, they’ll talk to you – they don’t seem to have any hang-ups, which is good.” Wightman says that when he had surgery last July, Don Samuels called him in the hospital every day. “He’s concerned about his customers. He does that with everyone,”

LACITYBEAT 6 MARCH 12-18, 2009

Wightman says. Samuels entered into the business in 1974 with his partner. When his partner passed away in 1981, Samuels became the sole owner, and has been coming in nearly every night since, despite suffering a stroke that has impaired his speech. “We don’t care who comes in, as long as they’re presentable and clean and they respect each other and the people here,” says Samuels. “You show respect, you get respect. That’s my philosophy. Come in for a good time, have a few drinks, and meet other people. You have any other reason, we don’t need you.” Samuels says he has been approached by developers who have wanted to buy him out. “I’m not interested now in selling – because all my employees are very loyal,” says Samuels. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And I wouldn’t have any place to go every night.”✶ The Spotlight, 1601 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Hollywood. 6 a.m. to 2 a.m.; (323) 467-2425. www.spotlightbar.com.

the spotlight’s don samuels


strike up a conversation.” The Cahuenga Corridor revitalization has helped the bar overcome that “scary” patch. Investors have been sprucing up the area with new restaurants and clubs, including Goa (a celeb club stop which has since been shut down) and Kitchen 24, a trendy, upscale diner. All this activity has caused some worry for the patrons of the Spotlight, though. Kevin McNickel – name changed at subject’s request – has been coming to the bar for the last two years. He has his suspicions about the future of the Spotlight. “Why was there a city planning committee notice on the wall of this bar over the summer saying that this bar with the attached building directly north of it on Cahuenga is being sold into some new hoity-toity club? All the normal people in Hollywood who remember the old Hollywood are very sad if this bar closes,” says McNickel. Rick agrees: “I only hope Don Samuels does not ever, ever sell this place.” Don Samuels is the owner of the Spotlight. Everyone I talk to tells me to talk to him. His nightly schedule is predictable: at about 7 p.m. he arrives at his bar, takes his seat on the end by the door, and stays there until it closes. I make plans to return that night to chat with him, but I am cautioned – again. “I get out of here way before sunset,” says McNickel. “I’ve never been here at night,” Rick says. “At nights, it gets a lot crazier.” And Neil, a waiter who’s come in for a post-work drink that afternoon, also warns me to take care when coming back at night. “In any bar in Hollywood, you need to keep your wits about you, because there’s always someone in the bar watching you. People who come in to watch you drinking – robbers, hustlers, muggers,” he says. Neil also says that he leaves the bar before 9 p.m. I tell him I’ll bring my boyfriend for safety. “Is he good-looking?” Neil asks. When I return, it’s after midnight. A tall, tan, bald man in a yellow tank top is tending bar this time. Ben, as he introduces himself, or Benji, as he’s called by some of the other patrons, has tended bar at the Spotlight for nine years. “My first day here, I worked the 6 a.m. shift, and there were people


Inside the Motherlode at Santa Monica and Robertson – described as the second oldest gay bar in Los Angeles by “Uncle Ronnie,” arguably the most fabulous AARP-qualifier still in operation in Hollywood – the bartender cautions me against going to the Spotlight, which is evidently the oldest gay bar still in operation in Hollywood. “That place is scary,” he says. This is a sentiment I’d already heard a lot – but no one had anything too specific to say about it. Most just clucked their tongues and shook their heads. So when it’s time to finally visit the Spotlight – formerly frequented by Rock Hudson and Johnny Mathis – I am too nervous to go inside. I sit in the café directly across the street at the corner of Cahuenga and Selma. Nearby is Hairroin, a hair salon that presumably fosters addictions; Big Wangs, a restaurant specializing in what I can only guess would be chicken wings – ahem – wangs; and a manicurist where I saw a neatly groomed man getting his nails done. I stare out the plate-glass window at the Spotlight. The blue awning over the door informs passersby that this bar was “Est. 1963,” the year JFK was assassinated and MLK gave a speech about a dream. When I finally sweep aside the curtain that blocks sunlight from the Spotlight’s depths, all I see is a typical bar. On the right is the bar itself, behind which a man in a ball cap and a gray sweatshirt pours drinks for his customers under the flickering light of ceiling-mounted televisions. On the left, a pinball machine, darts, a digital jukebox (“100,000 songs”!) and a smattering of tables and chairs. At 12:45 p.m. on a Wednesday, the juke is pumping out Britney Spears’ “Piece of Me,” the soaps are playing on the televisions, and seven men are seated at the bar. Tony, the bartender in the ball cap and sweatshirt, is 72. The first time he poured a drink for a customer at the Spotlight, Nixon was in the White House. Rick, one of the men at the bar, is an executive assistant who’s been coming to the Spotlight for three years. Rick names everyone in the bar and gives a brief back-story on each one of them – after he finishes fighting with his boyfriend about whether frozen blueberries can be baked into a pie. This is the scary bar? “It used to be a pretty shady place,” Rick says. “But they hired a new security crew here, David and Keith – and they’re a couple. They’re really nice. We had lunch with them down in Laguna one time.” I spotted Rick’s boyfriend Joi smoking outside the Spotlight the day before. “I come here as often as I can,” he says. “You know what I really love about this place – and I’ve only been coming here for two years – there used to be a lot of hustlers and street kids, they were characters here. But now it’s just the best place to sit and

The places I like the most include The Cork – Adams Boulevard, just east of La Brea – Tiki Ti, and Jumbo’s Clown Room. I live on Normandie, so Jumbo’s is actually my local bar. In L.A., you definitely need a local bar. Where I go really depends on my mood, but that’s the great thing about L.A. – it’s really diverse. If I’m looking for a laugh I might go to Jumbo’s or the Cork, which is kind of in a rougher neighborhood – like a mother might be there with her son. While I do like going to dive bars, I wouldn’t go to, say, Tiki Ti if I want a vodka drink. For something like that I like The Four Seasons on Robertson. Some of the most interesting people in Hollywood. I like people-watching – and it’s really a riot there. (as told to Guelda Voien) The Cork, 4771 W. Adams Blvd., Los Angeles; Jumbo’s Clown Room, 5153 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood; Tiki Ti, 4427 W Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake; The Four Seasons Hotel, 300 S. Doheny Dr., Los Angeles.

Kristen Trattner and Monica May, The Nickel Diner

Kristen: I’m a big drinker. Right now I bounce between the front bar at Cole’s and The Varnish [the new bar by Eric Alperin] in the back. I like to keep it within walking distance. We either start with an Old Fashioned or a Sazerac made by Raul at the Varnish. He really knows how to snap the neck of an orange peel. If you listen closely you can hear a shriek. Monica: I’m very fond of the Death in the Afternoon – an absinthe and champagne cocktail. (GV) The Varnish and Cole’s Original French Dip, 118 E. Sixth St., downtown.

Susan Feniger, Ciudad, Border Grill and Street

I’m in the restaurant until late, so I try to end up near my house. I will often end up at the Brentwood, because it’s open late. At night, it’s really a neighborhood hang. I know the bartender and all the servers have been there for a while. I may have a


Jon Shook, Animal

Tough Hooch for Tough Times Cooking up M.F.K. Fisher’s home-cooked vodka By Paul Brennan and Will Swaim It’s a conundrum as hard as a cirrhotic liver: With the economy cratering you need a stiff drink, but with the economy cratering your budget has no room for a trip to a bar or liquor store. So you do it yourself. And more than 60 years ago, America’s greatest food writer published a recipe for homemade vodka. M.F.K. Fisher, the recipe’s author, grew up in Whittier at roughly the same time as Richard Nixon. Unlike Nixon, she didn’t grow up to be a notorious drunk dialer. Also unlike Nixon, Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher was charming and witty, with an elegant prose style. Her reputation as a food writer rests on a series of books, beginning with 1937’s Serve It Forth. In 1942, she turned her attention to eating well despite wartime rationing with How to Cook a Wolf. The recipes – none of which actually involves a wolf – range from the standard (“A Basic Minestrone,” “Spoonbread”) to the more unusual (“Mock Duck,” “Tomato Soup Cake”). But surely the most unexpected one has the simple title, “A Vodka.” Fisher says she first learned of the recipe from “a Junior Leaguer from Ohio.” Junior Leaguers are, of course, pillars of society, and this pillar apparently had access to “an honest but unscrupulous druggist” who was willing to sell her “a quart of good alcohol.” The recipe itself is quite simple:

1 quart of water One half an orange rind, shaved 1 teaspoon glycerin or sugar 1 lemon rind, shaved 1 quart alcohol Simmer the first four ingredients very gently for about 20 minutes. Remove from stove. Add alcohol and cover instantly with a tight lid. Let cool and strain. To make a very acceptable liqueur add more fruit shavings and spoonful or so of honey. In the second edition of the book, Fisher adds, “My Uncle Walter, the most accomplished early-morning drinker I have ever known, says it is superlative in tomato juice.” Despite Uncle Walter’s endorsement, this recipe would seem to clearly fall into the Drink at Your Own Risk category. True, it’s been in print for 67 years, and there are no reports of anyone going blind from drinking the vodka – which is reassuring – but there are no reports on what it does to your liver, kidneys or brain, either. Of course, if your brain thinks it’s a good idea to drink stove-top vodka, it probably deserves whatever happens to it. Our brain told us this was a reasonable risk, and so, of course, we plunged on. We found our pure alcohol at BevMo – asked at the front counter for “alcohol for cooking,” and were guided quickly to

MARCH 12-18, 2009 7 LACITYBEAT

Everclear. Jay the Clerk handed us a bottle. We admired it: great retro label of simple color like something out of bourbon country (black and red ink on sepia) wrapped over a clear glass bottle of equally utilitarian design, and a warning that the stuff should be kept far from open flame: Everclear is 75 percent alcohol. Jay looked at us steadily and asked, “What are you going to do with it?” “We’re going to make vodka on a stove,” we said. We explained Fisher’s recipe. Jay listened intently, and then offered, “That’s not really homemade. I mean, it’s not like you’re distilling it.” Then Jay offered his own recipe for home vodka, no more homemade than Fisher’s. Jay went to college in Arizona, and noticed that the labels on high-priced vodka often claim they’re filtered over and over, almost ridiculously scrubbed – “like seven times or something,” Jay said. So Jay bought a bottle of cheap vodka (“I think it was Popov”) and ran it through a charcoal filter. How’d that taste? “A little like charcoal,” Jay admitted. That wasn’t the worst of it: for the next two days, Jay and his roommates, like gas victims in the Great War, battled blinding headaches, photosensitivity, and vomiting. “Thanks for the tip,” we said. “We’ll stick with Fisher.”

cont. on page 11➤

Campari and soda if I don’t feel like much, or a glass of cab. I’ll drink dirty martinis often, very dirty ones, Ketel One but I like it very dirty, or vodka-sodas. And when my restaurant opens I can’t wait to go there and sit by the fire pit. (GV) The Brentwood, 148 S. Barrington Ave., Los Angeles.

Lee Joseph, Dionysus Records

I love to drink at Bigfoot Lodge and Saints & Sinners. Not only because I DJ at both (Club London Calling every Wednesday and Satanic Swingers Lounge every Thursday) or because I get the employee discount. I love the ambiance of Bobby Green’s creations – one part art installation and two parts escape! Inside one of his establishments, you are in the fantasy world of an adult Disneyland – sort of a punk rock equivalent of the Depression-era movie houses. I also like that both bars have an excellent selection of single malt scotch. Great music and no distracting televisions to be found! (Ron Garmon) Bigfoot Lodge, 3172 Los Feliz Blvd., Los Feliz; Saints & Sinners, 10899 Venice Blvd., Los Angeles.

DJ Wolfie

The Edison features my favorite “just legalalized green stuff” to drink – I speak of course of absinthe, which up until recently was illegal. Otherwise known as “The Green Fairy,” it is the drink that Van Gogh quaffed heavily. In addition to helping him see the world in an impressionistic light, it also led to him chasing Gauguin around his house with a straight razor – the same razor later used on his own ear. The Edison serves it in a lovely potion bottle, complete with cork. Bring your own razor. (RG) The Edison, 108 W. 2nd St. # 101, downtown Los Angeles.

tony millionaire draws himself

Hadrian Belove, Cinefamily

The best bar in the world is in K-town. Don’t know the name because the sign’s in Korean, but you’ll know it by the painted billboard of Kim Jong Il in a profile face-off with some other guy probably from South Korea. Wallpapered with old Korean newspapers, the woodslatted booths are the ideal to settle in for a good long drunk. The booze is cheap, the service is good, and you can practically move in. You can order spicy beer-friendly food and fresh fruit, and you can’t beat the atmosphere. (Chris Ziegler) 6th and Berendo, Koreatown.

“Did You Ever Hear About The Time That I Tried Sexual Intercourse With a Pizza?” Drinking in the garage with Tony Millionaire By Tom Child Tony Millionaire somehow manages to balance his jobs as comic artist (the rumsoaked Maakies, making its City Beat debut this issue and viewable on his website, maakies.com) and co-creator and writer of The Drinky Crow Show (appearing on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim) with, shall we say, a rather European approach to alcohol consumption. Drinky Crow’s

Maakies Treasury, a collection of the or at least the ability to do it safely. second five years of the strip appears in stores this month. When I was doing my heaviest and most creative drinking I lived in Boston, Berlin Tony Millionaire: Let me get a better and New York, and in any of those towns, phone. And let me get a beer. And now you could either walk to the bar and walk I’m ready. home or you could take a cab or you could L.A. Citybeat: You said that you have take a subway and just go home. Boston was some issues with drinking in L.A. – a little tough because subways all closed cont. on page 11➤

LACITYBEAT 8 MARCH 12-18, 2009



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Paz Lenchantin, the Entrance Band Bardot where Derek James DJs most Wednesdays nights. I get a cold glass of Stella – I like it when the bartender secretly spikes it with a hit of acid. (CZ) Bardot, 1737 N. Vine St., Hollywood.

Elita Loresca, KNBC RY





Sorry L.A. City Beat readers, but since I don’t drink that much, I’m not exactly an expert on local bars. On occasion, my fiancé and I like to go to The Yard House in Pasadena. Their bar has a huge selection of beers, which he likes, and I’m a big fan of their sliders. They play a great selection of music and it’s one of the best places in town to watch the “big” games. Don’t know what they have in store for St. Patrick’s Day, but I’ll bet there’s going to be green beer available for the tasting! (Matthew Fleischer) The Yard House, 330 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena.

Napoleon Paid For It In Cash Brownbagging 211 in Chinatown’s newest park By Nathaniel Page sara

We go to a liquor store, where he walks directly to the Steel Reserve 211 and grabs two 24-ouncers. We continue to a Chinese buffet. On the way, Magic Napoleon tells me he is the manager of the “Albertsons on Riverview” in Victorville. (After research, it seems there is no such location.) He needs to get to his ranch out there, or to his El Camino, or to Slauson and Crenshaw. “I got a lil’ cousin down there,” he says. “Works at Paramount Studios. Looks just like Obama.” Magic Napoleon made a fortune selling crack and sherm down in Compton. “Give me some crack. I’ll sell it,” he assures me. But he won’t elaborate. “I’ll have people wanting to kill my ass,” he says. “Shit, I’ll kill yo’ ass.” Magic Napoleon threatens to kill me four times overall. But his rat-like frame and what I assume to be a weakened heart make the threats unimpressive. At the buffet, he orders deep-fried chicken and pork chops. Then we brownbag it in the new circle park on Main and Alameda beside an unconscious vagrant while Magic Napoleon spins a yarn about his three-million-dollar ranch. He chews the swine bones loudly, mouth agape, grease running in gobs through his saltand-pepper goatee. The ranch is four bedrooms with an

attic and a basement, a four-car garage, and a “big-ass hundred-inch tee-vee set in the mutherfuckin’ wall. Twenty acres. Coyotes. Raccoons. All that motherfuckin’ shit.” Napoleon paid for it in cash. Four concubines lodge with him. “They get to fuckin’” whenever he pleases. He pauses for a throaty draw of malt liquor. “I drink one of these every day,” he says. “Ain’t got no choice. I was raised in a liquor store. I was drinking half-price whiskey by the time I was 13.” “St. Louis, man. They got that big old Mississippi River. You don’t want to get throwed in there, man. That motherfucka goes on and on and on. They got pythons bigger than motherfuckin’ boa constrictors that’ll eat yo’ ass. They got catfish bigger than yo’ ass.” He belches. “They got whales bigger than that building,” he points at a ten-story edifice. “They got sharks … .” Magic Napoleon consumes 24 ounces of 211 in three gulps, then tosses the can onto the bricks and stomps it to shreds. I’ve already finished and thrown my can out. “That’s money you throwing away,” he says, digging after it. Just then, a particularly gnarled bum staggers toward us, carrying an empty 40, his skin soaked through with creosote. Magic Napoleon’s eyes flash. “Gotta go, man,” he says. And he does.✶

MARCH 12-18, 2009 10 LACITYBEAT


Magic Napoleon Johnson is out on a $2,500 bond after three weeks in Twin Towers. “I grabbed the cop’s gun, then I smacked his ass,” he says of his arrest, swinging a wild, demonstrational haymaker. “And the other one took off running.” “I’m an eighth degree black belt in Loma Lima,” he continues, mangling the name of the Samoan martial art. “I’ll kill yo’ ass!” Magic Napoleon has been pestering passers-by near Montana Bail Bonds. He wears a beanie, shades, and ratty, baggy, mismatched attire. He carries earphones and other accessories suggesting a lost boombox somewhere. His crooked, narrow teeth are encased in plaque and his long fingernails are packed with grime. Born 55 years ago in St. Louis, Herbert Duncan and Pauleen Johnson raised Magic in a liquor store. “Hey man, I’m trying to get back out to Victorville,” he tells me. With his glassy, bloodshot eyes and his incorrigible fidgeting, Magic Napoleon looks like the kind of guy with whom I’d like to have a beer. He immediately accepts my offer. We set off toward Chinatown. I want to sit at a bar. “Naw,” he says. “They ain’t got 211 at the bar.”

John Coltharp, lead barman at Seven Grand Something sets The Varnish apart from other bars in this city. Milk & Honey of New York is widely considered the Mecca for cocktail dorks, and its owner and creator has brought the same obsession to Varnish. The glasses come out of a freezer. The drinks are rushed to the table like a soufflé that might drop. Good cocktails are supposed to be cold; his are the coldest you get. The amount of good bars using freshsqueezed juice has gone from “count on one hand” to “well, they’d better or I’m getting a beer and a shot.” More than anything, the commitment to specificity makes the Varnish

unique. It’s euphoria that moves past vodka tonic and rum coke. (Tom Child) The Varnish, 118 E. Sixth St., downtown Los Angeles.

Tony Lovett, author of L.A. Bizarro

No curmudgeon in his right mind would divulge the name of his favorite bar – including me. But I am willing to do the next best thing and give up The Safari Room since I also outed the place in the forthcoming update of (shameless plug ahead) L.A. Bizarro, coming later this year from Chronicle Books. If it were located in the heart of L.A., this time-warp from the 1950s would be packed nightly with the Bettie Page-haircut/porkpiehat-set. And yet, despite its location in the back country of Mission Hills, Safari Room appears to be showing up on the radar for a growing number of hipsters. Boo-hoo. I love the place for its clichéd African décor – spears, giant tortoise shells, Zulu masks, etc. – which appear to have remained untouched since 1957. The bar is long and un-crowded, the drinks are efficacious, and the old-school fare served in both the bar and restaurant takes me back to my ’60s childhood. My favorite cocktail here? Shrimp. (Will Swaim) Safari Room, 15426 Devonshire St., Mission Hills.

The Gaslamp Killer

These days I don’t go to Hollywood or downtown. My favorite drinking spots right now include Verdugo Bar in Glassell Park. They have more beer options – rare beer options. It’s like heaven. It’s a ridiculous section of beer and I like beer. It’s an old ’40s bar that’s been restored. I also like The Airliner on Wednesdays – there are lots of young people. It’s also really old and restored, drinks are super-cheap, staff is super-friendly. The drinks are really cheap. (GV) Verdugo Bar, 3408 Verdugo Rd., Glassell Park; The Airliner, 2419 N. Broadway, Lincoln Heights.

Gabriel Hart, Jail Weddings

First off, Akbar, which is right around the corner from my house. They have $2 Anchor Steams on Mondays. It’s probably the cheapest drink in town. My other favorite place is The Bounty on Wilshire. But I really like brownbagging. A lot of us will go to what we call Bedpan Park – it’s this great drinking-in-public spot. So obvious, the cops never give us any trouble. (GV) Akbar, 4356 W. Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake; The Bounty, 3357 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles.

home-cooked vodka

tony millionaire

cont. from page 7

cont. from page 8

“No, no,” said Jay. “There’s more. Undeterred, Jay and his roommates bought a cheap Britta water filter – “the countertop kind, a pitcher” – and ran some Popov through that seven times. And then they drank it. Jay said the Britta filter system worked perfectly. A college dorm taste test on friends and neighbors concluded there was no measurable difference between Grey Goose and Britta-filtered Popov. At home, we followed Fisher’s recipe to the letter. Or almost: We always take shortcuts in the kitchen: on one day, our chocolate chip cookies turn out better than anything that fell upon the Jews during their biblical wandering; on another they taste like something for backpackers or astronauts. We precisely simmered water, sugar, and a peeled lemon. But in the absence of an orange we used orange juice. And at 20 minutes, we killed the heat and added the entire bottle of Everclear – discovering only then that one liter is not quite a quart. We replaced the lid and set the whole thing outside to cool but grew impatient and proceeded to search for a strainer. But what kind of strainer? We started to pour a small amount into a funnel over the tea strainer that, in turn, we set over a Pyrex measuring cup. Steam – roughly 37.5 percent alcohol – rose like sand in our eyes. Temporarily sightless, we overwhelmed the diminutive strainer and lost about five shots of steaming homebrew vodka on the kitchen counter. When our vision cleared, we noted that the few ounces of vodka in the measuring cup were sort of murky – vaguely orange juice-colored, actually. With Jay in mind, we bravely continued, filtered the rest of the vodka, threw the stripped lemon into the compost pile, and shook up several lemon drop martinis. The lemon drop is murky itself, of course, so no one worried over the cloudy color; our subjects drank deeply from the well of Fisher-brand vodka, and they declared it good. They drank through dinner. They drank through dessert, conversation and Zack and Miri Make a Porno. It’s not excessive to observe that the subjects were positively effusive about Fisher’s vodka – its taste (“comparable to the very best,” said one) and the price: nearly two quarts of 75 proof Southern California vodka for about $16, the cost of one bottle of Everclear.✶

before the bars closed, so you had to get a ride. But I didn’t have a driver’s license so I didn’t care. But in L.A., you know, if I were to walk to a bar it would take me like an hour and a half, and getting a cab home is practically impossible. So it’s totally changed my drinking. When I got to L.A. – and got married and had kids – it wasn’t really a good idea for me to be staying out ’til three in the morning at a bar anyway. So I usually do all my drinking now in the garage with a can of beer and a pen in my hand. It works out fine. The way that I work is during the day I take care of business, run around, go on errands, make the phone calls, and then at night, the kids go to sleep and I can pull up to the desk and start drinking the beer. Because I really have a hard time drawing when I’m not drinking. You keep thinking, “Oh, great – after I finish this I’ll have another beer.” It keeps you going. What’s your favorite beer? My favorite and only type of beer that I like to drink is Budweiser out of a can. I don’t even like it out of a bottle. Anybody ever walks around here with a Bud Lite, my daughter starts screaming at them: “Lite!” She hates it because I hate it. I never understood why anybody would put water in a beer. What was your favorite place to drink in L.A. before you just started drinking in your own house late at night? Before the kids were born, I lived in Silver Lake, so I had a couple of bars that I really liked over there. Do you remember the Smog Cutter? Oh my God, it was the greatest. It was down some little road right near my house. I could just walk home from there and my wife and I would go there. It was run by people from Thailand, and there was a woman who ran the place and behind her there was like a photograph of the president of Thailand. She said it was her uncle, but nobody believed her. They had pool tables there. We went there with John Flansburgh from They Might Be Giants one time. He’s an old friend of mine and we went down there and sang karaoke. Anyplace else, I would never sing karaoke, but that place was such a rundown dive … a very weird place, very funny. That must have been six or seven years ago that I was going there. There was another place I liked to go, and of course I’m terrible with names –

LACITYBEAT 11 MARCH 12-18, 2009

Ye Rustic Inn. You always meet guys like Dino Stamatopoulos there. Jay Johnston. A lot of the really drunken comedians. And once you get tired of all the drunken comedians, you can go across the street to that other place, which is some weird … like Midnight Happy Time or something? And it’s filled with old men and there’s always some Frank Sinatra on the jukebox. What sort of things happened to you during these drunken times? Well, did you ever hear about the time that I tried sexual intercourse with a pizza? Oh, you didn’t? It was back in New York when you could really get drunk and just climb into a cab and nurse a hangover for a couple of days. It was the closing of the Screw magazine offices. They were moving to new offices, so people were in the Screw magazine office, going through all the files, taking out all the weird original drawings and stuff that they could find – drawings by Robert Crumb and Spain. And then we all went to this bar that was down the street from there. Things got crazy. Somebody ordered a pizza and then in front of all the famous cartoonists over there, like Kaz, Sam Henderson, all those guys, I took a slice of pizza, put a hole in it and then I pulled my flaccid penis through it and stretched it out. I don’t think anyone got a photo of it, but everyone laughed. Then later the rumor was all around town that Tony Millionaire fucked a pizza. If I had actually gotten an erection and screwed a slice of pizza, it would have been much more disgusting and disturbing and perverted. But to pull your penis through a slice when it’s not hard – see, that’s just a wacky joke. Yeah, that was a fun place. What’s most surprising about you for someone who only knows you through your comics? They’d be surprised to know what a sweetheart I am, and that I’m a gentleman. I mean, I was a drunken crazy man like Drinky Crow, but now I’m pretty much a loving dad. I stay at home with my two little kids and they go to school a block away. And my wife, we work in the garden and grow flowers and stuff. So now, in order for me to come up with a good joke for the strip about Drinky, I have to remember. It’s kind of nice.✶


Good to the Last Bite

‘A Boy and His Dog’ doesn’t starve for movie choice this Thursday night

Dwayne Johnson’s got a handle on it

Critic Tested, Kid Approved

‘Race to Witch Mountain’ keeps ’em quiet for an hour-and-a-half By Tom Child Race to Witch Mountain is a Disney movie made for young adults that features the United States government and its shadowy enforcement agencies as one of the antagonists. This in itself is remarkable, though slightly less so than the fact that the film was not only watchable but frequently entertaining – a bit of tween fluff that, while it probably won’t stick in any heads come summer blockbuster season, achieves a level of competency that elevates it above most of the dreck that parents have to suffer to make their kids happy. Despite falling far short of “classic” children’s movie status, the film manages easily to meet the two criteria for this kind of thing: Will it keep youngsters entertained enough to stay relatively quiet for its entire length? And is it interesting enough to keep parents from desperately regretting their decision to have kids? Dusting off and updating the old Escape to Witch Mountain franchise chestnut, this re-imagining features Dwayne Johnson (who recently abandoned his “The Rock” moniker in a bid for more critical consideration) as demolition derby driver turned Las Vegas cabbie Jack Bruno, possibly the toughest-sounding movie name in recent cinema history. Bruno came to Vegas in the hopes of driving for NASCAR, but fell in with the wrong crowd and was eventually incarcerated. Now that he’s

out, all this heart-of-golder wants to do is stay on the straight and narrow while earning enough legitimate money to buy a 1968 Ford Mustang like the one Steve McQueen drove in Bullitt. Things take a turn for the strange, however, when two mysterious Buddhaquoting Aryan teenagers, Sara and Seth (Bridge to Terabithia’s AnnaSophia Robb and Alexander Ludwig), appear in the back of his cab and ask him to drive them to a house in the middle of nowhere and drop them off. After Bruno’s cab is pursued and knocked around the highway by a few plateless black vans – and after a heavily armored space assassin shows up – Sara and Seth reveal that they are actually extra-terrestrials desperately trying to get back to their spacecraft (currently ensconced in a government base in Witch Mountain) and return home with a mysterious device that will not only save their planet but Earth as well. The initially incredulous Bruno is convinced by the siblings’ psychic powers, and he enlists the services of UFO-obsessed scientist Alex Friedman (Carla Gugino) in order to evade both the space assassin and the United States government’s nefarious dealings, as personified by nasty manin-black Henry Burke (Ciarán Hinds). For a Disney movie, the film involves a surprising series of tense car chases, explosions, bullets and punches ... though

no human being appears to actually die. (After one particularly nasty train derailment, the audience is immediately assured that the innocent conductor survived.) The most onscreen blood comes courtesy of a slightly crunched nose, making this film tamer than most Saturday morning cartoons. And the subtly subversive anti-authoritarian message is a treat for parents burned out on the last eight years of smug White House subterfuge. The film contains little new or innovative – many shots and plot threads seem lifted almost wholly from previous sci-fi films – and much of the storyline doesn’t hold up to close scrutiny: Why do the teenagers’ powers only come in to play at the most convenient moments? Would covert American shadow agencies really be this inept? But the film stands as a reasonably respectable, if ultimately forgettable, diversion, buoyed by a charming performance by Johnson and the appropriately stilted cadences of Robb and Ludwig. Parents of budding George Noorys looking for a Sunday matinee to get their pre-teens out of the house could do a lot worse. V Race to Witch Mountain. Directed by Andy Fickman. Featuring Dwayne Johnson, Carla Gugino, AnnaSophia Robb and Alexander Ludwig. Citywide.

LACITYBEAT 12 March 12-18, 2009

Vic (yes, Don Johnson) is a hormone-crazed all-American boy who managed to outlive America, and Blood (voiced by graveyardsardonic Tim McIntire) is just the kind of telepathically-enhanced canine an overgrown kid would want by his side in any radiationsaturated, post-WWIII wasteland. Blood has courage, sparkling wit and a peerless ability to sniff out vadge in this woman-scarce blight, along with trouble when mutt leads master to Quilla June (Susanne Benton), sexy bait in the machinations of spunkless, paste-faced Republicans (bossed by corpselike Jason Robards) squatting in some underground Topeka whose suety male population just can’t get it up anymore. Will our lad Vic surrender to a life of faux-bucolic stud service or be true to a hurt (and hungry) pal topside? The last and best-known film directed by cowboy character actor (and Peckinpah favorite) L.Q. Jones, A Boy and His Dog (1975) is a pungent and bleakly funny dirty joke of the kind PC has long since made impossible to tell in public. It nevertheless screens Thursday at the New Beverly, preceding Val Guest’s low-budget masterpiece, The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961), or the end of the world as seen from an understaffed Fleet Street newspaper literally hell-bent on one last deadline. Truly a superior retro double-bill at a hallowed old creakwad theater, but best of all is the scheduled appearance of Harlan Ellison, whose original novella won the 1969 Nebula award and passed from the genre-fiction ghetto to Quality Lit faster than you can say “Jonathan Swift.” Hear the anecdotes and reflections of a master storyteller who’ll no doubt answer any impertinence from the audience. One more thing – one look at the pooch fronting Tim McIntire’s sidewise remarks and you’ll never see TV’s The Brady Bunch the same way … . V Harlan Ellison and Josh Olson with A Boy and His Dog and The Day the Earth Caught Fire, New Beverly Cinema, 7165 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles. Thur., Mar. 12, 7:30 p.m. $4-$7. Newbevcinema.com. -Ron Garmon



SHOWTIMES MAR. 13-19, 2009 Note: Times are p.m., and daily, unless otherwise indicated. All times are subject to change without notice.

BURBANK AMC Burbank 16, 140 E Palm Av, (818) 9539800. Confessions of a Shopaholic Fri-Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:30, 7:15, 9:50. Coraline Fri-Sat 10:50 a.m., 1:25, 4, 6:35, 9:10, 11:40; Sun 10:50 a.m., 1:25, 4, 6:35, 9:10; Mon-Tue 1:25, 4, 6:30, 9:10; Wed 1:25, 4; Thur 6:30, 9:10. Coraline 3D Fri-Sat 11:55 a.m., 2:35, 5:05, 7:40, 10:20; Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:35, 5:05, 7:40, 10:05; Mon-Thur 2:35, 5:05, 7:40, 10:05. Duplicity Thur only, 12:01 a.m. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Just Not That Into You Fri-Sat 10:45 a.m., 1:55, 4:55, 8, 11:10; Sun 10:45 a.m., 1:45, 4:50, 7:45, 10:20; Mon-Thur 1:05, 4:05, 7, 9:55. I Love You, Man Thur only, 12:01 a.m.. Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concer t Experience in Disney Digital 3D Fri 10:55 a.m., 1:05, 3:15, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40; Sat-Sun 1:05, 3:15, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40; Mon-Thur 1:10, 3:15, 5:15, 7:30, 9:40. Knowing Thur only, 12:01 a.m. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sat 11:10 a.m., 2, 4:45, 7:35, 10:30, 11:55; Sun 11:10 a.m., 2, 4:45, 7:35, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2, 4:45, 7:35, 10:25. The Metropolitan Opera: Madama Butter fly Encore Wed only, 7. The Metropolitan Opera: Madama Butter fly Encore II Thur only, 1. Miss March Fri-Sat 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30, 11:50; Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30; Mon-Wed 1:55, 4:25, 7:10, 9:30; Thur 1:55, 4:25, 7:10, 9:30, 11:50.

Race to Witch Mountain Fri-Sat 11:40 a.m., 12:20, 2:20, 3, 5, 5:40, 7:50, 8:20, 10:35, 11; Sun 11:40 a.m., 12:20, 2:20, 3, 5, 5:40, 7:50, 8:20, 10:35; Mon-Tue 1, 2:20, 3:40, 5, 6:20, 7:55, 9, 10:30; Wed 1, 2:20, 3:40, 5, 6:25, 7:55, 9, 10:30; Thur 1, 2:20, 3:40, 5, 6:20, 7:55, 9, 10:30. Slumdog Millionaire Fri-Sun 10:40 a.m., 1:30, 4:20, 7:15, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:30, 4:20, 7:20, 10:10. Taken Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7, 9:20; Mon-Thur 1:15, 3:30, 5:45, 8, 10:20. Tyler Perr yâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Madea Goes to Jail Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:25, 5:10, 7:55, 10:40; Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:25, 5:10, 7:55, 10:25; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:15, 7:05, 9:45. Watchmen Fri-Sat 12:15, 1, 3:50, 4:35, 7:25, 8:10, 11:05, 11:45; Sun 12:15, 1, 3:50, 4:35, 7:25, 8:10; Mon-Wed 1:05, 3:50, 4:35, 7:25, 8:10; Thur 1:05, 3:50, 4:35, 7:25, 8:10, 11:45. Watchmen: The IMAX Experience IMAX Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 3:05, 6:40, 10:15; IMAX Mon-Thur 3:05, 6:35, 10:15. AMC Burbank Town Center 8, 210 E Magnolia Bl, (818) 953-9800. Call theater for titles and showtimes. AMC Burbank Town Center 6, 770 N First St, (818) 953-9800. Crossing Over Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:30; Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:40, 10:15; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5, 7:35, 10:15. Gran Torino 3:30, 9:30. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Just Not That Into You Fri-Sun 12:05, 6:30; Mon-Thur 6:30. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sun 12:30, 3:15, 6:15, 9; Mon-Thur 3:15, 6:15, 9. Race to Witch Mountain Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:40, 4:20, 7, 9:45; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:20, 7, 9:45. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li Fri-Sat 11:10 a.m., 1:25, 3:40, 6, 8:30, 10:50; Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:25, 3:40, 6, 8:30; Mon-Thur 2:30, 5:15, 7:45, 10:05. Watchmen Fri-Sat 12:15, 3:50, 7:25, 11; Sun 12:15, 3:50, 7:25; Mon-Thur 3:50, 7:25.

á&#x2018;šá&#x2018;šá&#x2018;šá&#x2018;š WATCH IT!â&#x20AC;?



â&#x20AC;&#x153;â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Watchmenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; PULSATES with EMOTIONAL INTENSITY.â&#x20AC;? Peter Peter Travers, Travers, ROLLING ROLLING STONE STONE

DOWNTOWN & SOUTH L.A. Downtown Independent, >251 South Main St, (213) 617-1033. This Is the Life Fri-Tue 8. Laemmleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Grande 4-Plex, 345 S Figueroa St, (213) 617-0268. Gomorrah Fri 5:10, 8; Sat-Sun 1:40, 5:10, 8; Mon-Thur 5:10, 8. The International Fri 5:20, 8:10; Sat-Sun 1:50, 5:20, 8:10; Mon-Thur 5:20, 8:10. Slumdog Millionaire Fri 5:30, 8:20; Sat-Sun 1:55, 5:30, 8:20; Mon-Thur 5:30, 8:20. Watchmen Fri 5, 8:30; Sat-Sun 1:30, 5, 8:30; Mon-Thur 5, 8:30. Magic Johnson Theaters, Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza, 4020 Marlton Av, (323) 290-5900. Call theater for titles and showtimes. University Village 3, 3323 S Hoover St, (213) 748-6321. The Last House on the Left 12:30, 3, 5:30, 8, 10:30. Race to Witch Mountain noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10. Watchmen noon, 3:30, 7, 10:30.

HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Cinemas Hollywood, 6360 Sunset Bl, (323) 464-4226. Cinema Paradiso Mon only,. Coraline 3D Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:25, 5:15, 7:55, 10:35; Mon-Thur 11:15 a.m., 2:25, 5:15, 7:55, 10:35. Duplicity Thur only, midnight. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Just Not That Into You Fri-Sun 1:50, 7:30; Tue-Thur 1:50, 7:30. I Love You, Man Thur only, midnight. The International Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 4:40, 10:30; Tue-Thur 11:10 a.m., 4:40, 10:30. Knowing Thur only, midnight. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sat 11:15 a.m., noon, 1:55, 2:40, 4:35, 5:20, 7:15, 8:10, 9:55, 11, 12:10 a.m.; Sun 11:15 a.m., noon, 1:55, 2:40, 4:35, 5:20, 7:15, 8:10, 9:55, 11; MonWed 11:25 a.m., noon, 1:55, 2:40, 4:35, 5:20, 7:35, 8:10, 10:15, 10:50; Thur 11:25 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:35, 10:15. Miss March Fri-Sun 12:05, 2:45, 5:05, 7:25, 10:25; Mon 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5, 7:20, 9:40; Tue-Thur 12:05, 2:45, 5:05, 7:25, 9:45. Psycho Wed only, midnight. Sin Nombre Thur only, midnight. Slumdog Millionaire Fri-Sun 1:05, 4:15, 8:05, 10:55; Mon-Tue 1:05, 4:15, 7:05, 9:55; Wed 1:20, 4:20; Thur 1:05, 4:15, 7:05, 9:55. Sunshine Cleaning Fri-Sat 11 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 12:30, 1:20, 2:05, 2:50, 4:10, 4:55, 5:30, 7, 7:35, 8, 9:30, 10:15, 10:50, midnight; Sun 11 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 12:30, 1:20, 2:05, 2:50, 4:10, 4:55, 5:30, 7, 7:35, 8, 9:30, 10:15, 10:50; MonTue 11 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:30, 1:20, 2:05, 2:50, 4:10, 4:55, 5:30, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:30, 10:25, 11; Wed 11 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:30, 1:30, 2:05, 2:50, 4:10, 4:55, 5:30, 7, 7:45,

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8:30, 9:30, 10:25, 11; Thur 11 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:30, 1:20, 2:05, 2:50, 4:10, 4:55, 5:30, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:30, 10:25, 11. Taken Fri-Tue 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50; Thur 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50. Watchmen Fri-Sat 11:05 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:20, 1, 2:35, 3:15, 4, 4:45, 6:35, 7:05, 7:40, 8:20, 10:05, 10:45, 11:20, 11:55; Sun 11:05 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:10, 1:15, 2:35, 3:15, 4, 4:45, 6:35, 7:05, 7:40, 8:20, 10:05, 10:45, 11:20; Mon 11:05 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 12:10, 1, 2:35, 3:15, 4, 4:45, 7:15, 7:40, 8:20, 10:45, 11:20; Tue 11:05 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 12:10, 1, 2:35, 3:15, 4, 4:45, 6:35, 7:15, 7:40, 8:20, 10:05, 10:45, 11:20; Wed 11:35 a.m., 12:10, 12:50, 3:15, 4, 4:50, 7:15, 7:40, 8:20, 10:45, 11:20; Thur 11:05 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 12:10, 12:50, 2:35, 3:15, 4, 4:45, 6:35, 7:15, 7:40, 8:20, 10:05, 10:45, 11:20. The Wrestler Fri-Sun 1:10, 4:20, 7:20, 10:10; Tue 1:10, 4:20, 7:20, 10:10; Wed 1:10; Thur 1:10, 4:20, 7:20, 10:10. Graumanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Chinese, 6925 Hollywood Bl, (323) 464-8111. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li 12:40, 3, 5:30, 8, 10:30. Los Feliz 3, 1822 N Vermont Av, (323) 664-2169. The Class 1:30, 4:15, 7, 9:45. Gomorrah 1:30, 4:15, 7, 9:45. Two Lovers 1:30, 4:15, 7, 9:45. Mann Chinese 6, 6801 Hollywood Bl, (323) 4613331. Crossing Over 1:10, 4:10, 7:10, 10. Doubt Fri-Tue 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10; Wed 12:10, 2:40; Thur 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10. Friday the 13th Fri-Wed 12:20, 2:50, 5:20, 7:50, 10:20. Frost/Nixon Sat-Sun 1, 4, 6:50, 9:40; Tue-Thur 1, 4, 6:50, 9:40. Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience in Disney Digital 3D Fri-Mon 12:30, 2:30, 4:40, 7, 9:20. Private Screening Fri 7:30; Sat 10 a.m.; Mon 7:30; Wed 7, 7:30; Thur 7. Tyler Perryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Madea Goes to Jail 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:50, 7:20, 9:50. Pacificâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s El Capitan, 6838 Hollywood Bl, (323) 467-7674. Race to Witch Mountain 10 a.m., 1, 4, 7, 9:45. Pacificâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s The Grove Stadium 14, 189 The Grove Dr, Third St & Fairfax Av, (323) 692-0829. Confessions of a Shopaholic 11:05 a.m., 1:50, 4:35, 7:30, 10:15. Coraline 3D Fri-Wed 11:25 a.m., 2:05, 4:45; Thur 10:55 a.m., 1:25, 4:10. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Just Not That Into You 12:35, 3:45, 6:55, 10:05. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sat 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:20, 4:20, 5:20, 7:10, 8:10, 10, 11:05, 12:20 a.m.; Sun 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:20, 4:20, 5:20, 7:10, 8:10, 10, 11:05; Mon 10:40 a.m., 1:30, 4:20, 7:10, 10, 11:05; Tue 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:20, 4:20, 5:20, 7:10, 8:10, 10, 11:05; Wed 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:20, 4:20, 5:20, 8:10, 11:05; Thur 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:20, 4:20, 5:20, 7:10, 8:10, 10, 11:05. Miss March Fri-Sat 11:55 a.m., 2:25, 4:55, 7:25, 9:55, 12:25 a.m.; Sun-Thur 11:55 a.m., 2:25, 4:55, 7:25, 9:55. Race to Witch Mountain Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 1:35, 2:15, 4:15, 5, 7, 7:40, 9:40, 10:20; Mon 11 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 1:35, 2:15, 4:15, 5, 7, 7:40, 9:40, 10:20; Tue-Thur 10:50 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 1:35, 2:15, 4:15, 5, 7, 7:40, 9:40, 10:20. Slumdog Millionaire 10:45 a.m., 1:45, 4:50, 7:50, 10:50. Taken 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:40, 7:20, 9:50. Tyler Perryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Madea Goes to Jail 11:45 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:55, 10:40.

Watchmen Fri-Sat 11:10 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 12:45, 2:50, 3:25, 4:25, 6:30, 7:05, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10, 10:45, 11:15, 11:45; Sun-Tue 11:10 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 12:45, 2:50, 3:25, 4:25, 6:30, 7:05, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10, 10:45, 11:15; Wed 11:10 a.m., 12:45, 2:50, 4:25, 6:30, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10, 11:15; Thur 11:10 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 12:45, 2:50, 3:25, 4:25, 6:30, 7:05, 8:05, 10:10, 10:45. Regent Showcase, 614 N La Brea Av, (323) 9342944. Milk Sat-Sun 5, 7:30; Mon-Wed 7:30. Vine, 6321 Hollywood Bl, (323) 463-6819. Vista, 4473 Sunset, (323) 660-6639. Watchmen Fri 5, 8:45; Sat-Sun 1:15, 5, 8:45; Mon-Thur 5, 8:45.

NORTH HOLLYWOOD, UNIVERSAL CITY Century 8, 12827 Victory Bl, (818) 508-6004. Coraline 3D 2:15, 7:15. Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience in Disney Digital 3D 11:45 a.m., 4:45, 9:45. The Last House on the Left 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20. Paul Blart: Mall Cop 12:05, 2:35, 5:05, 7:35, 9:55. Race to Witch Mountain 11:30 a.m., 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Slumdog Millionaire 1:10, 4:10, 7:10, 10:10. Tyler Perryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Madea Goes to Jail 11:55 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:45, 10:15. Watchmen 11:50 a.m., 1:45, 3:40, 5:35, 7:30, 9:25. Loews CityWalk Stadium 19 with IMAX, 100 Universal City Dr at Universal CityWalk, (818) 508-0588; IMAX Theater (818) 760-8100. Coraline Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:25; MonWed 2:20, 5, 7:25; Thur 2:20. Coraline 3D Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 4:25, 9:10; MonThur 4:25, 9:10. Fired Up Fri-Sat 11 a.m., 1:25, 3:40, 5:55, 8:25, 10:50; Sun 11 a.m., 1:25, 3:40, 5:55, 8:25, 10:40; Mon-Thur 1:25, 3:35, 5:55, 8:25, 10:40. Friday the 13th Fri-Sat 12:50, 3:30, 5:50, 8:20, 11:15; Sun 12:50, 3:30, 5:50, 8:05, 10:25; Mon-Thur 12:55, 3:30, 5:50, 8:05, 10:25. Heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Just Not That Into You 3:45, 9:25. Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience in Disney Digital 3D 1:50, 7:05. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sat 10:45 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:30, 2:10, 4:20, 5:25, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 11, 12:30 a.m.; Sun 10:45 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:30, 2:10, 4:20, 5:25, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 10:45; Mon-Thur 1:30, 2:10, 4:20, 5:25, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 10:45. Miss March Fri-Sat 12:30, 2:50, 5:15, 7:30, 10, 12:15 a.m.; Sun 12:30, 2:50, 5:15, 7:30, 10; Mon-Thur 2:50, 5:15, 7:30, 10. Paul Blart: Mall Cop Fri-Sun 12:20, 2:40, 5:20, 7:40, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2:40, 5:20, 7:40, 10:15. Push Fri-Sat 1:10, 6:45, 12:20 a.m.; Sun-Thur 1:10, 6:45. Race to Witch Mountain Fri-Sat 10:50 a.m., noon, 1:20, 2:30, 4:10, 5:10, 6:50, 7:50, 9:30, 10:30, 12:05 a.m.; Sun 10:50 a.m., noon, 1:20, 2:30, 4:10, 5:10, 6:50, 7:50, 9:30, 10:30; Mon-Thur 1:20, 2:30, 4:10, 5:10, 6:50, 7:50, 9:30, 10:30. Slumdog Millionaire Fri-Sat 12:10, 3:10, 6:20, 9:15, 12:10 a.m.; Sun 12:10, 3:10, 6:20, 9:15; Mon-Thur 12:50, 3:40, 6:20, 9:15. Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li Fri-Sat 12:35, 3, 5:40, 8:30, 11:10; Sun 12:35, 3, 5:40, 8:15, 10:45; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5:40, 8:15, 10:45. Taken Fri-Sun 10:40 a.m., 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:45, 10:20; Mon-Thur 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:45, 10:20. Tyler Perryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Madea Goes to Jail Fri-Sat 11:05 a.m., 1:35, 4, 6:40, 9:20, 11:50; Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:35, 4, 6:40, 9:20; Mon-Thur 1:35, 4,



Laemmleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Monic Fri. 7:20 & 9:45 ONa 4 LY!

Âľ WESTWOOD Mann ÂŁ Âľ HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Âľ WEST LOS ANGELES The Landmark at â&#x2C6;&#x201A; UNIVERSAL CITY CityWalk Stadium 19 Village 310/248-MANN #051 W. Pico & Westwood 310/281-8233 with IMAX 800/FANDANGO #707 Cinemas at Sunset MOVIE PARKING REBATE $3.00 parking after 6:00 PM www.landmarktheatres.com & Vine 323/464-4226 $5 General Parking Rebate At FREE PARKING 4 hours validated in â&#x20AC;&#x153;Privilege Parking Lotsâ&#x20AC;?. Box Office With Movie Ticket parking -$2 $1.00 refunded with paid Âľ BEVERLY HILLS Pacificâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s The Grove Purchase (Excludes Preferred & Valet) admission after 6:00 PM. Âľ CENTURY CITY AMC Stadium 14 323/692-0829 #209 4 hours on-site validated Century 15 310/289-4AMC Âľ WEST LOS ANGELES The Bridge Âľ HOLLYWOOD 3 hrs free parking. parking only $2.00. Cinema De Lux 310/568-3375 ArcLight Cinemas at the Dome 323/464-4226 Additional 2 hr parking Âľ SANTA MONICA Mann Criterion 6 Âľ SHERMAN OAKS ArcLight Cinemas at the 4 hours validated parking -$2 $3.00 with AMC validation. 310/248-MANN #019 ÂŁ Sherman Oaks Galleria 818/501-0753







www.shermansway.com Âľ ALISO VIEJO ÂĽ ARCADIA AMC Santa Âľ CENTURY CITY Âľ UNIVERSAL CITY Âľ SIMI VALLEY Edwards Aliso Viejo Anita 16 & IMAXÂŽ AMC Century 15 & IMAXÂŽ CityWalk Stadium 19 Regal Cinemas Stadium 20 & IMAXÂŽ 626/321-4AMC 310/289-4AMC with IMAXÂŽ Civic Center 800/FANDANGO #116 ÂĽ BURBANK Stadium 16 & IMAXÂŽ 800/FANDANGO #707 â&#x2C6;&#x201A; IRVINE EDWARDS IMAXÂŽ Âľ ANAHEIM RESORT AMC Burbank 16 THEATRE The Irvine Spectrum 800/FANDANGO #164 Âľ WEST LOS ANGELES CinemaFusion IMAXÂŽ & IMAXÂŽ 818/953-9800 800/FANDANGO #140 ÂĽ TORRANCE AMC The Bridge Del Amo 18 & IMAXÂŽ Cinema De Lux IMAXÂŽ @ Anaheim GardenWalk â&#x2C6;&#x201A; CAMARILLO Edwards â&#x2C6;&#x201A; ONTARIO EDWARDS 310/921-2046 Theatre 310/568-3375 714/399-0300 Camarillo Palace IMAXÂŽ THEATRE NO PASSES, COUPONS, 12 Cinemas & IMAXÂŽ The Ontario Palace GROUP ACTIVITY TICKETS OR 800/FANDANGO #123 800/FANDANGO #153 VIP TICKETS ACCEPTED.





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WESTLAKE VILLAGE Regency Weslake Village Twin 818-889-8061

LACITYBEAT 14 MARCH 12-18, 2009




WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18 7:30 P.M. For Your Chance to Win, Go Online to:

contests@lacitybeat.com Rated “PG-13” for “disaster sequences, disturbing images and brief strong language.”


Complete rules and regulations can be found online. Screening is overbooked to ensure capacity. Please arrive early. Admission is not guaranteed.



6:40, 9:20. Watchmen Fri-Sat 10:55 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:45, 2:25, 3:20, 4:30, 6, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:40, 11:40; Sun 10:55 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 12:45, 2:25, 3:20, 4:30, 6, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:40; Mon-Thur 1:05, 2:25, 2:55, 4:30, 6, 6:30, 8, 9:40, 10:10. Watchmen: The IMAX Experience IMAX Fri-Sat 10:30 a.m., 2, 5:35, 9, 12:30 a.m.; IMAX Sun 10:30 a.m., 2, 5:35, 9; IMAX Mon-Thur 12:45, 4, 7:15, 10:35.

SANTA MONICA AMC Santa Monica 7, 1310 Third Street Promenade, (310) 395-3030. Confessions of a Shopaholic Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:30, 10:20; Mon-Thur 2:20, 4:40, 7:20, 9:50. Coraline 3D Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:40, 4:20, 7, 9:30; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:15, 7, 9:30. Gran Torino Fri-Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:40, 4:30, 7:10, 10; Mon-

Thur 1:40, 4:20, 7, 9:50. The Last House on the Left Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:40, 7:20, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:55, 4:30, 7:05, 9:45. Miss March Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 1:10, 3:30, 5:45, 8, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:50, 7:15, 9:40. Race to Witch Mountain Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 12:15, 1:30, 2:45, 4, 5:15, 6:30, 7:45, 9, 10:15; Mon-Tue 1:30, 2:30, 4, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 9, 10; Wed 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10; Thur 1:30, 2:30, 4, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 9, 10. Laemmle’s Monica 4-Plex, 1332 Second St, (310) 394-9741. Cherry Blossoms Sat-Sun 11 a.m. The Class 1, 4, 7, 10. Gomorra 1:40, 4:50, 8. Man on Wire Sat-Sun 11 a.m. Sherman’s Way 1:50, 4:30, 7:20, 9:45.

Slumdog Millionaire 1:30, 4:20, 7:10, 10. Loews Cineplex Broadway, 1441 Third Street Promenade, (310) 458-1506. Fired Up Fri-Sun 12:30, 3, 5:25, 8, 10:20; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5, 7:30, 9:55. Fuel Fri 1:35, 4:15, 7, 10; Sat-Sun 11 a.m., 1:35, 4:15, 7, 10; Mon-Thur 1:35, 4:15, 7, 9:45. Milk Fri-Sun 1:15, 4:20, 7:20, 10:15; Mon-Thur 1, 4:05, 7:05, 10. The Reader Fri 1:55, 4:45, 7:40, 10:30; Sat-Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:55, 4:45, 7:40, 10:30; Mon-Thur 1:15, 4, 6:45, 9:30. Mann Criterion, 1313 Third Street Promenade, (310) 3951599. He’s Just Not That Into You 12:50, 4:10, 7:10, 10:10. The International 1:10, 4:20, 7:20, 10:20. Taken 12:20, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 9:50. Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:50, 7:30, 10.

please join us for

A One-Day Introduction to pacifica graduate institute ’s masters & doctoral degree programs with Special Guest James Hillman, Ph.D.

Follow Your Dream to Graduate School.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Pacifica Graduate Institute is an accredited graduate school, located a few miles south of Santa Barbara, California. All of the Institute’s programs are informed by the teachings of C.G. Jung, Joseph Campbell, Marion Woodman, James Hillman, and others in the Depth Psychological Tradition. The programs have a unique educational format sensitive to the needs of adult learners. NOW ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS FOR FALL

Experience the school’s interdisciplinary curriculum through characteristic classroom presentations

Learn more about Pacifica’s graduate degree programs in psychology, the humanities, and mythological studies

Explore Pacifica’s two campuses and their resources… including the Joseph Campbell Archives and Library, the Graduate Research Library, and Bookstore

• •

Learn about admissions procedures and financial aid Meet and speak with Pacifica alumni, faculty, staff, and other prospective students


• •

a $25 Gift Certificate good at the Pacifica Bookstore Continental Breakfast and Buffet Lunch

Two Continuing Education Credits are Available REGISTRATION REQUIRED. SPACE IS LIMITED.

For more information or to register online visit www.pacifica.edu or call 805.969.3626, ext. 103

249 Lambert Road, Carpinteria, CA 93013

LACITYBEAT 16 MARCH 12-18, 2009

Watchmen noon, 1:30, 3:30, 5, 7, 8:30, 10:30.

WESTWOOD, WEST L.A. AMC Avco Center, 10840 Wilshire Bl, (310) 475-0711. Frost/Nixon 1:45, 4:30, 7:20, 10. The Last House on the Left Fri 2:05, 4:45, 7:30, 10:15; SatSun 11:30 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:30, 10:15; Mon-Thur 2:05, 4:45, 7:30, 10:15. Miss March Fri 2:15, 4:40, 7:15, 9:45; Sat-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:15, 9:45; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:40, 7:15, 9:45. Taken Fri 2:30, 5, 7:40, 10:05; Sat-Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:30, 5, 7:40, 10:05; Mon-Thur 2:30, 5, 7:40, 10:05. Laemmle’s Royal Theatre, 11523 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 4775581. 12 1, 4:30, 8. Landmark’s Nuart Theater, 11272 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 281-8223. The Edge of Love Fri-Sun 1:45, 4:30, 7:15, 9:50; Mon-Thur 4:30, 7:15, 9:50. Nosferatu Fri only, midnight. The Rocky Horror Picture Show Sat only, midnight. Landmark’s Regent, 1045 Broxton Av, (310) 281-8223. Race to Witch Mountain 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:40. The Landmark West Los Angeles, 10850 W Pico Bl, (310) 281-8223. Los Angeles Brazilian Film Festival Fri-Sun. Crossing Over 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:35, 10:10. Everlasting Moments 1:15, 4:10, 7:05, 9:55. Harvard Beats Yale 29-29 12:15, 2:35, 5:05, 7:35, 9:55. He’s Just Not That Into You Fri-Wed 11 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 10:20; Thur 11 a.m., 1:50, 10:20. The Reader 11 a.m., 1:45, 4:35, 7:30, 10:15. Slumdog Millionaire 11:25 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:25. Sunshine Cleaning Fri-Sat 11:50 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:25, 4:50, 5:50, 7:20, 8:15, 9:45, 10:35; Sun-Thur 11:50 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:25, 4:50, 5:50, 7:20, 8:15, 9:45. Two Lovers 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10. Watchmen 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 3:15, 5, 7:15, 8:30, 10:35. Majestic Crest Theater, 1262 Westwood Bl, (310) 474-7866. Slumdog Millionaire 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10. Mann Bruin, 948 Broxton Av, (310) 208-8998. He’s Just Not That Into You 12:40, 3:50, 7:10, 10:20. Mann Festival 1, 10887 Lindbrook Av, (310) 208-4575. He’s Just Not That Into You Tue only, 12:40, 3:50, 7:10, 10:20. The Reader Fri-Mon 1, 4:10, 7:20, 10:10; Wed-Thur 1, 4:10, 7:20, 10:10. Mann Village, 961 Broxton Av, (310) 208-5576. Watchmen noon, 3:30, 7, 10:30.

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MARCH 12-18, 2009 17 LACITYBEAT 74546-LA City Beat & Pasadena Weekly-9.375x11.22 4C 1.29


RICHARD SWIFT Richard Swift’s initial pop offerings were like those albums by Emitt Rhodes – solo songs that pulled orchestras out of bedroom closets and probably fooled a few people in asking how Paul McCartney fit into all this. And Swift even did it with just a four-track on his nightstand, rescuing staggeringly meticulous solo works (Walking Without Effort, The Novelist) from late-night insomnia attacks and buffing them ’til they fairly glowed. Newest EP Ground Trouble Jaw (Secretly Canadian) is a genre exercise non pareil – Swift trying out for Smokey Robinson with a rattled but ambitious falsetto and production as it actually came out of Hitsville, with vibes and spokenword spots and piano chords that bloom in the exact correct places. Like Ubiquity’s Nino Moschella – who four-tracks like Shuggie Otis or Sly Stone instead of Smokey – it’s a beautiful and beautifully done lo-fi valentine to a different part of the American pop chart. (CZ) Richard Swift, with Dappled Cities and We Barbarians, at Spaceland, 1717 Silver Lake Blvd., Silver Lake; clubspaceland.com. Fri., 8:30 p.m. $10-$12. 21+.

verocai: masterpiece

Arthur, We Love You Arthur Verocai comes back to his beginning


By Chris Ziegler Until 2002, Arthur Verocai was one of music’s lost cosmonauts – a pioneer whose single solo album left a trail of heat and light as it left the planet, never to be heard from again. But what an example he’d set – ten songs of voracious ambition and precise control, contemporary to work by studio auteurs like David Axelrod and Norman Whitfield but building in the music of Verocai’s Brazil as well. Jazz and soul and bossa and samba and rock and even proto-electronica were magnetized by young Verocai, who (working under state dictatorship) released an indiosyncratic work almost more sculpture than music and then – after flatlined public response – departed the studio for 30 years. He will be performing for the first time ever in America this weekend. Os Mutantes were Beatles babies born from a government-sanctioned version of Hullaballoo, but Verocai came from a much more traditional background. “I am a son of bossa nova,” he told writer Jeff Chang, speaking of harmony and guitar and swing, and after a short stint as a civil engineer whose moonlighted compositions were winning over studio engineers, he graduated into a chance to make his first complete album with complete creative freedom. “Everything was given to me,” he says now – 12 violins, four violas, cellos, trumpet, sax, trombone (later to be teased

into saurian orgasm on “Karina”) two percussionists, piano, guitar and even prototype analog synthesizers that officially didn’t even exist within Brazil at the time. But Verocai knew a guy who knew a guy, and he fired real-time synthesizer hiss and sizzle into the very first seconds of “Caboclo.” He was contemporary with L.A.’s Axelrod (though he’s never apparently cited him as any kind of influence) and he was just as comfortable hovering within that bottomless Axelrodian space. Axelrod songs like “The Human Abstract” or “The Smile” were arranged like fields of stars – moments of brightness above darkness and depth – and Verocai could compose a constellation, too. But that first self-titled album was released to a market that didn’t understand, he says. The bossa-style backbones on songs like “Sylvia” or “O Mapa” supported giant wild songs that whipped and weaved through all of Verocai’s influences, from guitarist Wes Montgomery to Brazilian landmarkers like Heitor Villa-Lobos and Milton Nascimiento and impressionists like Ravel and Debussy. (Not tropicalia, he notes – his music had nothing to do with tropicalia, he says.) Motown’s Whitfield had this kind of fearless vision, too, pressing entire established bands (the Temptations) into realizing painterly 13-minute compositions that felt more like inspired conversations

(or half-remembered experiences) than pop songs; so did Rotary Connection producer Charles Stepney, who with Whitfield helped pioneer the studio as an instrument for “psychedelic soul.” But Verocai’s album – startling still in how modern it sounds – never charted or even broke in Brazil, and a frustrated Verocai sidelined into writing for television and commercials. (“Jingles!” he says. “Too many times!”) He doesn’t sound particularly bitter – he was happy to be able to support his sons growing up – but for 30 years, he remained confined to sound-for-hire gigs. Then in 2002, he says, his patience ran out. He began composing for guitar again, and awardwinning Los Angeles-area label Ubiquity reissued his 1972 LP to resounding critical and professional acclaim – Madlib says he could listen that album every day for the rest of his life; MF Doom and 9th Wonder both pulled samples for their own work. In 2002, says Verocai now, “I want to come back to my beginning.”✶ Arthur Verocai and 30-piece orchestra, with Madlib and DJ Nuts plus special guests TBA, at the Luckman Fine Arts Complex at Cal State Los Angeles, 5151 State University Dr., Los Angeles. Sun., 7 p.m. $32.50. All ages. Further information and complete schedule at vtechphones. com/timeless.

LACITYBEAT 18 march 12-18 2009

A different Tennessee Three this time – girls sharing a fake last name who dress like Jeannie C. Riley would if someone put her out now and who sing sassy rockabilly-country-pop songs lined up shoulder-to-shoulder on stage. Their recent In the Wilderness EP has two goofy songs (like the kind Lee Hazlewood had Nancy Sinatra mispronounce – cf. “Greenwich Village Folk Song Salesman”) and a winning lead track in “Wild One,” which recalls post-“Funnel” (but still feisty) Wanda Jackson fingerwaggers like “This Gun Don’t Care Who it Shoots.” Evidently they get awards out in Nashville, and of course they should – in 1968 you could get a million dollars and a TV show out of this sort of thing, and in fact Roni and Donna Stoneman had one or the other for a little while. And in fact Those Darlins would do well to cover Roni’s “The Guys That Turn Me On Turn Me Down.” So far they’ve got aw-shucks songs and gosh-dern-it songs so they might as well try both at once. (CZ) Those Darlins, with Dan Auerbach (of the Black Keys) and Hacienda, at the El Rey Theatre, 5515 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles; theelrey.com. Sat., 8 p.m. $22. All ages.


james conlon

christian zacharias

zubin mehta

Not-so-great Expectations The Vienna Philharmonic suggests some reasons to stay at home By Alan Rich I could name at least three strong reasons for avoiding the Vienna Philharmonic’s concerts at Disney Hall last week. One was the strange programming: was it necessary for this orchestra, arguably the world’s finest, to devote half a program on one of its two nights to serve as backup to a glitzy lightweight piano concerto by a glitzy lightweight heartthrob pianist? Another was also the strange programming: was it also necessary for that same orchestra, on its other night, to drag along a tired and deservedly forgotten set of songs by one of its hometown’s

deservedly forgotten musical dinosaurs, sung by a soprano of no particular gifts? Third: isn’t it time that the people of Vienna, with their overwhelming pride in aforementioned orchestra and its pride amounting to mania in the most precious of its heritage of composers of the past – Franz Schubert and Anton Bruckner among them – think twice about sending this heritage around the world in the unqualified hands of Zubin Mehta, for all the imponderable glamour this unevenly talented musician reflects on this city of his sometime adoption? Fairness demands that I interject,

along about now, that Maestro Mehta packed the house on both of his concert nights – not only the night of Lang Lang’s piano shenanigans, but both nights, with lines awaiting cancellations all the way up the block. I have grappled with this paradox, not only last week but actually since the year 1962, when the handsome young Parsi with the flashing eyes skewered the ladies of the L.A. Philharmonic Board into handing him the orchestra some 20 years before his readiness – and this drew the crowds and wrecked his possible serious career. The Parsi eyes got him the other kind

LACITYBEAT 20 MARCH 12-18, 2009

of career instead, except that now he walks onstage as if he’d just peed in his pants and delivers Bruckner with the orchestral balances all thick and logy; Schubert’s great Ninth Symphony with the rhythms lacking in grace and the magical trombone passages in the first movement lacking in – well, in magic. Actually, the way Lang Lang played the Chopin F-minor Concerto, with all the posing and the exaggerated phrasing succeeded in bringing the orchestra – the Vienna Philharmonic, for God’s sake! – down to his level, and not vice versa. That takes some doing. That “dinosaur,” by the way, was Joseph Marx, who was already a decrepit and ancient Viennese composer, sitting up in his box in the Musikverein and demanding homage 60 years ago; I neither hoped nor deserved to hear another note from him. The singer last week was Angela Maria Blasi. There had been better music-making, from our own Philharmonic, the week before. Christian Zacharias, the Indiaborn German pianist/conductor, is always a welcome visitor. He has a way of getting very close to music and that, for the Schumann Piano Concerto, is a very good place to be. I regard that work as something close to perfect, anyhow, and hearing Zacharias playing it so lovingly, with the orchestra reduced and everybody very involved, made for a splendid half-hour’s conversation all around. Earlier on there had been a fine Haydn discovery, a Sinfonia Concertante for four solo instruments and a boisterous, noisy orchestra: a late work full of harmonic surprises. The concert had begun with trash, however – the Brahms A-major Serenade for orchestra without violins, a dull, nagging sound. I think it could be rescored for just winds, and if that doesn’t work, trash it.   James “Non-stop” Conlon crossed the street from the Opera to lead an all-Mendelssohn program with the Philharmonic, and that was just fine. He dug out the First Symphony, never before played (!) by the orchestra, a good, rambunctious work obviously composed by a 15-year-old just after hearing the Mozart 40th Symphony but with some beautiful ideas of his own including a gorgeous clarinet solo in the finale. Sarah Chang, finally proving she knows something besides the Bruch Violin Concerto (which she plays year after year at the Bowl) played the Mendelssohn instead, very beautifully; there is one overplayed work that never fades. Conlon also led some Midsummer Night’s Dream Music, but not enough. The stuff with women’s chorus is really enchanting. And so, for that matter, is all the Mendelssohn piano music and odds and ends that found their way into the old Max Reinhardt movie of the Shakespeare play (with Mickey Rooney and James Cagney) that has just now come out on DVD. Get that movie, if you really want to celebrate Mendelssohn. ✶


manly artn

Punch-Drunk Love The brute lyricism of Wainer Vaccari By Ron Garmon Chinatown is that Angeleno miracle, a neighborhood perfectly suited to foot travel with North Hill Street the most pedestrian-friendly of its jolly jumble of thoroughfares. So much the worse, I fear, for casual passersby at Bonelli Contemporary, where the garish colors and meat-axe materialism of Wainer Vaccari’s boxing images fairly batter anyone incautious enough to peer through the window. The seven canvases that make up Fights (the first-ever L.A. showing by the Italian painter) shock and lure with flash-frozen dynamism, pulpy textures and promise of the ultimate high – ritualized, stylized violence.

Vaccari, aesthetician of sinew and transatlantic cult object, is probably best known for a 2005 exhibition at the Kunsthaus in Hamburg, which featured his meaty, iconic portraits of 53 legendary boxers. All were done in stark, acidic tones, with each scowl and curve of muscle freakishly highlighted by obscure runes and squiggles. The sense of a breed set apart from other men by dint of sheer ferocity bind greats like Primo Carnera to nowobscurities like Tony Zale, a “Man of Steel” middleweight whose three early1940s title fracases with Rocky Graziano set durable standards in punishment.

Indeed, Vaccari seems as enamored of microsecond-of-impact violence as Poe was of torture chambers, with an obvious admiration of the fistic art as manly ritual buttressed by creepy studies of politicians like Condoleezza Rice and the daintiest of female nudes, each brushstroke a candied caress. Then there was the artist’s 2006 Denti series, which were nothing less than serial studies of teeth and gums, those essential guarantors of ferocity. Lest anyone take Vaccari for a mere sensationalist bent on arousing only the basest in we-the-gawker, let us pause for a few words from no less a

MARCH 12-18, 2009 21 LACITYBEAT

celebrated judge of the exquisite than William Hazlitt, the great Romantic essayist here pausing in his Parnassian labors to attend the December 1821 bout between Bill Neate and Thomas “The Gas-man” Hickman: “The Gas-man went down, and there was another shout – a roar of triumph as the waves of fortune rolled tumultuously from side to side. This was a settler. Hickman got up, and ‘grinned horrible a ghastly smile,’ yet he was evidently dashed in his opinion of himself; it was the first time he had ever been so punished; all one side of his face was perfect scarlet, and his right eye was closed in dingy blackness ... . Neate warded the blow ... and felled him with the return of his left. There was little cautious sparring – no half-hits – no tapping and trifling, none of the petitmaîtreship of the art – they were almost all knock-down blows.” What Vaccari (and Hazlitt) seem to love about prizefighting is exactly what makes moralists detest it – the raw display of blood, courage and hormones in pursuit of proving an inequality. Both men fight nobly under rules, both suffer prolonged battering, but this self-inflicted kinship must end when one is declared victor over more-broken other. This rite, as sacred in ceremony as vicious in execution, further irritates the more tender hides among us by prolonging the violence for maximum spectator investment. That is so and one may as well condemn S&M cultists, horror comix and the cinema of Sam Peckinpah for similar lapses – along with the reveling in effect that neatly separates violence from consequence. This is all true – yet one may well be justified in telling the pious humanist (along with the booze-loathing Prohibitionist) to take a flying fuck at a rolling metaphor. Some forms of theatre – like life itself – have bracingly ugly consequences, but those don’t interest Vaccari, whose bacon-streaky canvases bid us not to linger lovingly upon violence, either as redemption or fetish. In these few visceral exciting images, we see force at moments of fiercest consequence; the striated muscles and twisted, pain-engorged faces blazing with energy and will; the very stuff of heroes, anti-heroes and blood-splattered onlookers. ✶ Wainer Vaccari’s Fights at Bonelli Contemporary, 943 N. Hill St., Chinatown; bonellicontemporaryla.com. Thru March 30. Tues.-Sat., Noon-6 p.m. Free.




Fri Sat Sun Mon Tues Wed Thu Fri Sat Sun Mon Tues Wed Thu Fri Sat Sun




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nte r Los Angeles Welness Ce


PHOTO by roshEIla robles


cole’s beef french dip and sazerac

Midnight Special Crawling after some of downtown’s best bar food By Miles Clements


t was a burger that first broke ground: a high-concept creation sweetened with caramelized onions, smeared with an applewood-bacon compote and glued together by Gruyere and Maytag blue cheese. Father’s Office’s self-titled Office Burger stormed the culinary world, causing drunken late-night crowds to queue up in claustrophobic scrums and kitchens to plow through patties in hopes of reproducing that success. But if Father’s Office revived the formerly fossilized concept of the gastropub, downtown is where the best bar food has taken hold. It’s in part due to concentration – within a few disorienting blocks are dozens of restaurants and bars (and all those permit-dodging places in between) that

care just as much about their food as they do their drinks. Because of that, the best way to absorb all that bar-bound cooking is the crawl, stopping in for a boutique beer here and a carefully constructed slider there. You could craft an entire alcohol-only night out from Cedd Moses’ rehabbed relics – Broadway Bar, the Golden Gopher, Seven Grand – but Cole’s is his culinary centerpiece. It took a few months for the renovated restaurant to find its way, but the (co-creator) of the French dip is back to being an essential piece of downtown, thanks to a menu of manly sandwiches stuffed with either lamb, turkey, beef or pork. The accompanying mustards can add some heat (though the so-called “atomic” is hardly nuclear) but

the French dips still slide down wonderfully easy. Cole’s has an admirable bar of its own, but it isn’t without competition, including the Association (a signless space next door) and the Varnish, the new backroom bar inside Cole’s that mixes its drinks inside Prohibition-era ambience. Bounce between all three and you’ll drink as well as anywhere, alternating between sips of Spaten and proper Sazeracs. Straight up Sixth Street is Library Bar, a smart but not bookish spot near the Central Library. There’s a wall of clothbound tomes for academic authenticity, but the bar doesn’t bother adhering to Dewey-decimal decorum; it’s crowded instead with afterwork eaters outfitted in blazers and halter tops. Library Bar feeds that natty swarm well with a perfectly pink burger that benefits from its crisp house-made pickles. The standard fries are fine – straw-sized potatoes cooked fresh – but you’d do better to up your order to the steak fries, canoe-like wedges tossed in pork fat and sea salt. The pork belly skewers are the kitchen’s most memorable meal, crunchy cubes of fatty pork that land in your stomach with all the necessary heft. The pork’s maple-based sauce is sweet but not overly saccharine, cut with a couple slices of lime and a sprinkling of cilantro for a balance that’s chased best with a Belgian brew or a Moscow Mule. If you’re not already suitably soused, stumble up to Redwood Bar and Grill, which endured a conversion a few years back from a reporter’s retreat to a pirateinspired hideout that has exponentially upped your chances of an encounter with Kim Fowley. If your timing is right, you might also catch a set by near-resident Mike Stinson, whose tear-in-yourbeer country regularly soaks the bar’s seafaring space. If not, however, finish up with some Stella and a fudge brownie, an incapacitating combination that will top you off until you’re ready to walk again.✶ Cole’s, 118 E. Sixth St., downtown Los Angeles, (213) 622-4090, colesfrenchdip.com. Library Bar, 630 W. Sixth St., downtown Los Angeles, (213) 614-0053, librarybarla. com. Redwood Bar and Grill, 316 W. Second St, downtown Los Angeles, (213) 680-2600, theredwoodbar.com.

MARCH 12-18, 2009 23 LACITYBEAT

Gold Rush Fairfax struck it rich with the opening of Golden State, a restaurant aimed at celebrating all things Californian. Golden State’s Jason Bernstein and James Starr enlisted Samir Mohajer – currently of the Cabbage Patch in Beverly Hills and formerly of Santa Monica’s Rustic Canyon – to handle the menu. What resulted is a simple, café-style concept: A short list of sausages, salads and sandwiches that includes a grilled Jidori chicken sandwich and a fingerling potato salad with applewood-smoked bacon. Also on the menu will be a few flavors of Scoops’ endlessly inventive gelato and California-sourced beers and wines. Visit Golden State at 462 North Fairfax Avenue and thegoldenstatecafe.com.

Silver Screen ArcLight-goers are about to eat a whole lot better with the upcoming opening of BoHo, the restaurant from Adolfo Suaya and chef Andre Guerrero of Max and the Oinkster. The menu is planned to be a casual, communal one, with plenty of pizzas and shareable preparations of things like baby back ribs, fried oyster po’ boy sliders, a charcuterie plate and roasted bone marrow. Drinks are expected to focus on small-batch beers picked under the advice of the hopheads at Verdugo Bar. Rounding out BoHo’s brain trust is Kristofer Keith of Spacecraft, who, in between designing just about everything in Hollywood, is putting a thrift-store-like touch to the space. BoHo has an anticipated opening date of March 20. Plan to stop by at 6372 West Sunset Boulevard.✶ –M.C. Tips accepted … e-mail miles@eatfoodwith.me or visit eatfoodwith.me.


Edited by Tom Child

Reed Hutchinson

Saturday: The Los Angeles Ballet has a pointe

L.A. City Beat hand picks calendar selections from among the myriad events that happen weekly in Los Angeles. In order to be considered, please submit all information at least two weeks in advance to calendar@lacitybeat.com or write Calendar / L.A. City Beat / 5209 Wilshire Blvd. / Los Angeles, CA / 90036. No faxes or phone calls, please.


Compiled by Ron Garmon

Annihilate this Week is the entirely appropriate name for an evening of punk, postpunk, indie & psychobilly at “L.A.’s only log-cabin lounge.” Bigfoot Lodge, 3172 Los Feliz Blvd., Los Angeles, (323) 662-1611; bigfootlodge/LAhome. Every Fri., 10 p.m. Balance is your Church of Saturday Night Deep House, conveniently located on the same street as several other notable temples of booty-based faith. King King, 6555 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, (323) 9605765; kingkinghollywood.com. Sat., 10 p.m.4 a.m. $10 before 11 p.m. Club Underground sees to all Silver Lake’s punk/glam/twee/Madchester needs, thank ’ee. The Echoplex, 1154 Glendale Blvd., (213) 413-8200; attheecho.com. Sat., 9 p.m.-2 a.m. $7. 18+. Club Work It invites you to check out your favorite lesbians. The Medusa Lounge, 3211 Beverly Blvd., Silver Lake, (213) 382-5723; medusaloungela.com. Sun., 10 p.m.-2 a.m. Free. Giant presents their chilly majesties, legendary German trance double act Blank + Jones. The Vanguard, 6021 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, (323) 463-3331; vanguardla.com. Sun., 10 p.m.-4 a.m. $20 presale. Give Us Free Fridays spins the R&B, hiphop & dancehall. Carbon, 9300 Venice Blvd., Culver City, (310) 558-9302; carbonla.com. Fri., 9 p.m.-2 a.m. Free. Hot Butter Fridays puts the glide in yo’ stride with DJ Lady Sha. Dakota Music Lounge, 1026 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica; dakotalounge.com. Fri., 9:30 p.m.-2:30 a.m. Free before 11 p.m.; $5 after.


Compiled by Sarah Tressler John Carpenter,The Mighty Regis, Mandi Perkins, The Spies, Molly Malone’s Irish Pub, 575 S. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles, (323) 935-1577; mollymalonesla.com. Thur., Mar. 12, 8 p.m. $12. 18+. The Subcity Take Action Tour with Cute is What We Aim For, House of Blues, 8430 W. Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, (323) 8485100; hob.com. Fri., 6 p.m. $18-$20. Tindersticks with Spain, The Music Box @ Henry Fonda Theater, 6126 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, (323) 464-0808; henryfondatheater.com. Fri., 8 p.m. $28. Pendulum, Club Nokia, 800 W. Olympic Blvd., downtown Los Angeles, (213) 765-7000; clubnokia.com. Sat., 9:30 p.m. $25-$28. Asobi Seksu with Resplandor, Troubadour, 9081 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood, (310) 276-6168; troubadour.com. Sat., 8 p.m. $12. Common featuring Biz Markie, Hard Rock Cafe Hollywood, 1000 Universal Studios Blvd., #99, Universal City, (818) 622-7625; hardrock. com. Mon., 8 p.m. $25; $75, V.I.P. 21+. Steel Panther, Key Club, 9039 W. Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, (310) 786-1712; keyclub.com. Mon., 9 p.m. $18, 21+; $20, under 21. ... And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, Echoplex, 1154 Glendale Blvd., Echo Park, (213) 413-8200; attheecho. com. Tue., 8:30 p.m. $15 in advance; $18 at the door. 18+. Amber Melody and Amber Ojeda, The Dakota Lounge, 1026 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica, (310) 393-8200; dakotalounge.com. Wed., 9 p.m. $7. 21+. Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Conga Room, 5364 Wilshire Blvd., downtown Los Angeles, (213) 749-0445; congaroom.com. Thur., Mar. 19, 9 p.m. $33-$58.


Compiled by Don Shirley

Double Indemnity. Kathrine Bates’ new dramatization of James M. Cain’s noir novel for Theatre 40 features throaty, eye-raising performances by Ed F. Martin as the lustful insurance agent and Nancy Young as the murderous, faithless wife. But Beverly Olevin’s staging isn’t helped by the modular, almost bare set, which has to make do without the brooding cinematography of the landmark film based on the same material. For that matter, Theatre 40’s own long-running production of another Bates true-crime script, The Manor, has a similar advantage over this production because it uses the actual mansion where the reallife crime took place. The lack of visual atmospherics here leaves the more unlikely elements of the story and the ripe dialogue in plain view, with all of their flaws exposed. Theatre 40, 241 Moreno Dr., Beverly Hills High School campus, (310) 364-0535; theatre40.org. Phone or check web site for schedule. $10-$22. Closes Sun., March 15. Hangin’ Out. Robert Schrock, whose Naked Boys Singing is a hit, apparently thought that heterosexuals might prefer a whimsical, allnude musical revue if both men and women were on stage. Hence this new show, with three of each gender in the cast, as well as some blatant gender stereotypes cropping up in the lyrics. The 19 songs by a bevy of writers, choreographed by Ken Roht, seem almost squeaky-clean at times, with hardly a trace of sexual interaction between the bodies, especially in the first act. Don’t expect a big sexual charge. Macha Theatre, West Hollywood, (323) 960-4443; plays411. com/hangin’out. Thur.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m. $34.95. Closes Sun., March 15. Ixnay. In Paul Kikuchi’s comedy for East West Players, an accident victim (Aaron Takahashi) enters an afterlife run by a fellow Japanese American (Gedde Watanabe) but

LACITYBEAT 24 March 12-18, 2009

balks at being reincarnated within the same culture, holding up the line for his fellow Asian or wannabe Asians who await their own next assignments. Despite individually strong performances, the conceit feels wobbly, especially as the author tries to balance arguments in favor of mixed marriages and pride in cultural heritage. Most of the characters sink into stereotype in Jeff Liu’s staging. Hwang Theater, 120 Judge John Aiso St., Little Tokyo, (213) 625-7000; eastwestplayers.org. Wed.-Sat, 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. $20-$35. Closes Sun., March 15. Twilight of the Golds. The Gold family fractures over a decision by Suzanne (Gretchen Koerner) to abort her pregnancy when advanced genetic testing indicates her boy will be gay. Her gay brother (Eli Kranski) interprets this as the ultimate insult. In T L Kolman’s revival for the Production Company, Jonathan Tolins’ 1993 play is a riveting portrait of well-meaning people agonizing over old prejudices and new technologies, with a layer of half-serious, half-whimsical comparisons of the Golds’ plight to that of the gods in Wagner’s Ring cycle. Chandler Studio, 12443 Chandler Blvd., Valley Village, (800) 838-3006; theprodco.com. Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m. $22. Closes Sat., March 14. Violet Sharp. William Cameron’s script depicts the agonies that beset a maid (Meredith Bishop) for Charles Lindbergh’s in-laws, in the aftermath of the notorious Lindbergh baby kidnapping quality. An aggressive detective (David Hunt Stafford) considers her a prime suspect. The scenes feel like simulated re-enactments, with a docudramatic quality. As in many such stories, it isn’t easy to know how much is verified docu and how much is fabricated drama. Still, it’s an engaging demonstration of how seemingly innocent and anonymous bystanders can be drawn into the swath of a widely publicized news story. Theatre 40, 241 Moreno Dr., Beverly Hills High School campus, (310) 364-0535; theatre40.org. Check website for schedule. $10-$22. Closes Thur., March 12.


THE LOS ANGELES BALLET The Los Angeles Ballet spring repertoire program is underway, so grab your fine-arts-loving friend (or your unwilling 12-year-old son, daughter, brother or sister) and go steep yourself in a series of performances that will most certainly make you a more cultured member of society. George Balanchine’s Stravinsky Violin Concerto and Balanchine’s Prodigal Son will be performed, as well as An American Camelot, a world premiere choreographed by Southern California native Jennifer Backhaus. Three performance dates remain, so don’t waste time getting tickets. The Broad Stage, 1310 11th St., Santa Monica, (310) 434-3412; losangelesballet. org. Sat., 7:30 p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m. $30-$95. (Sarah Tressler)


Amour, Where Are You?: Nathalie Broizat. Highways Per formance Space, 1651 18th St., Santa Monica, (310) 315-1459; highwaysper formance.org. Fri.-Sat., 8:30 p.m. $15-$20. Asian American Artists in California - A Symposium. Billy Wilder Theatre at the Hammer Museum, 10899 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 443-7000; hammer. ucla.edu. Sat., 9 a.m., Free. Cutting for Stone: A Novel. Abraham Verghese in conversation with Hector Elizondo. Richard Riordan Central Librar y, 630 W. Fifth St., Los Angeles, (213) 2287025; lfla.org/aloud. Mon., 7 p.m. Free. Lennard Davis: Is Obsession a PostModern Disease? Museum of Contemporar y Ar t, 250 S. Grand Ave., Los Angeles, (213) 626-6222; zocalopublicsquare.org. Thur., March 19, 7 p.m. Free. Reser vations recommended. David Eagleman presents and signs Sum: For ty Tales from the Afterlives. Book Soup, 8818 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 6593110; booksoup.com. Tue., 7 p.m. Free. Elissa Elliott discusses and signs Eve: A Novel of the First Woman. Vroman’s, 695 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena, (626) 449-5320; vromansbookstore.com. Thur., March 12, noon. Free. Is Human Psychology Driving the Recession? A Conversation with George Akerlof and Rober t Shiller. Central Librar y, 524 S. Flower St, Los Angeles, (213) 2287272; zocalopublicsquare.org. Tue., 7:30 p.m. Free. Reser vations recommended. King Davids of Comedy. The Improv, 8162 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles, (323) 6512583. Thur., March 12, 8 p.m. $14. Nine Lives Panel Discussion. Billy Wilder

Theatre at the Hammer Museum, 10899 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 4437000; hammer.ucla.edu. Sun., 3 p.m., Free.



Edward Hagedorn: California Modernist. The dynamic and truly weird vision of the late San Francisco eccentric. Opening reception, March 14, 6 p.m. Couturier Galler y, 166 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles, (310) 829-2156; couturiergaller y.com. Tue.-Sat., 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Free. Through Sat., May 2. Explosions in a Mental Sky features the startling abstract landscapes of David O’Brien and “Double Dip”, the lysergic inspirations of Tofer Chin. Opening Reception, March 14, 6 p.m. -9 p.m. CERASOLI Galler y, 8530-B Washington Blvd., Culver City. (310) 945-5974; cerasoligaller y. com. Tue.-Sat., 11 a.m.- 6 p.m. Free. Illiterature. A group show featuring the visual jump, jive ’n’ wail of abstract art. Opening Feb. 21st. Arena 1 Galler y, 3026 Airport Ave., Santa Monica, (310) 397-7449; santamonicaartstudios.com. Tue.-Sat., 1-6 p.m. Through Sat., March 21. Jenna Colby. On the galler y’s Project Wall hangs the artist’s swollen-headed, blear y-eyed moppets, each a study in comic defeat and resignation. Black Maria Galler y, 3137 Glendale Blvd., (323) 660-9393; blackmariagaller y.com. Tue.-Sun., noon-6 p.m. Free. Through Sat., April 4. Superschool. A group show at the Copro Nason curated by Lola (whose “Natural Beauties” show is also running at the same Westside galler y) purporting to represent “a select cross-section from contemporar y masters of the visual equation.” Copro Nason, Bergamont Station, 2525 Michigan Ave.Bergamot Station; C-2, D-5 Galleries, Santa Monica. (310) 829-2159. copronasoncom. Tue.- Sat. 1 p.m.-7 p.m. Free. Through Sat., March 28.

UPCOMING IN-STORES at AMOEBA! All shows are FREE and ALL AGES! For full calendar of events visit: AMOEBA.COM

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Built To Spill’s Doug Martsch stops by Amoeba for Resonance — our Friday night DJ series. Watch for his new release - coming Spring/Summer ‘09! (no signing - DJ set only)


Mondays in March, join us for weekly, music-related films, curated by Amoeba Music! FREE movies! FREE Izze Soda! In the courtyard of Space15Twenty,up the street from Amoeba! See Amoeba.com for the full schedule of films! 1520 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Los Angeles

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The essential biographical documentary on this punk rock icon. Eleven years in the making, by photographer and filmmaker Steven Sebring, it’s a unique and intimate portrait of the renowned singer, songwriter, poet, and activist.



Dhani Harrison and friend Oli Hecks release their first album as Thenewno2, which borrows as much from Brian Eno and Massive Attack as it does from his dad’s band. You Are Here comes out March 31st on Vagrant Records. “... combining musique concrète, backward recordings and ambient synth flourishes into pop gems ...From the loud and liberating to the airy and psychedelic.” — Rolling Stone


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MARCH 12-18, 2009 25 LACITYBEAT


Cuddly Tigers with Bite

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BY RON GARMON Handed on a Silver… Ill memories and iller will die hard in Clubland, or so Dance Commander theorized last Tuesday night, raving over the cell early last week of The Silver Platter, a nabe dive fallen victim to the awful power of the press. The Weekly dubbed this quaint Westlake dive “best tranny bar” last year, but not many habitués dug on the tone of self-conscious repor torial slumming and so the venue put the entire Four th Estate under an interdict that was, the Commander assured me, still in ef fect. I was at Casa Garmon in scenic Boyle Heights at the time, wrestling with some unwieldy deadline or other and glad for the diversion of being beaten to a pulp by enraged transsexuals. When I finally arrived, the Commander was nowhere to be found, having been detained by traf fic contretemps with the LAPD, but calling to hint it would be wor th my life to be caught even scribbling on a cocktail napkin. The bar tender – an enchanting femme ravishingly leggy and bare-assed in leather chaps – brought me club soda and a pen and I scratched a few lines of vers libre on the back of a press release, taking in the cheer y 1970s disco ball, the chips and salsa in the corner, The Alan Parsons Project wailing “Sirius” from the DJ deck, the general air of relaxed conviviality. It was “Wildness” night at the Platter, but the vibe was much cozier than that implies; locals and girls of ever y description mixed with fugitive Silver Lake hipsters and wiseguy O.G.s on terms of per fect ease and friendliness. It was almost

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Tygers, Tygers: For the casual punter, there’s ver y little about The Bordello to suggest indie rock. The deep-red decor and battered parlor furnishings put one in mind of a house of ill-fame in some Sergio Leone western, lending a nice dissociative ef fect to the grim soppiness of So Many Wizards last Wednesday. Stacked TV sets – authentic late20th centur y trade goods – played a winsome little movie about lost balloons as this critics-darling glopworks of floaded some pretty pathos. A muster of displaced hipsters and downtown ar t-mutants responded with little more than glazed indif ference, par tially emptying the place for Tigers Can Bite You. TCBY leavens a big, Byrds-y, lite-psych sound with Dave Woody’s sweetnatured howl and a general air of square-john winsomeness, the latter being what makes the dino-rockerz detest indie. Well, The Trashmen looked like boy accountants and the less said about Manowar is likely better for all concerned. TCBY did a brilliantly meandering set, with ever y one of the dozen-or-so of us remaining briefly transpor ted into some inner realm, wafting wistfully as the band gently let us down. A ragged and hear tfelt cheer from us closed the evening. V

LACITYBEAT 26 March 12-18, 2009

MARCH 12-18, 2009 27 LACITYBEAT

MARCH 12-18, 2009 19 LACITYBEAT

Profile for Diana James


march 12, 2009


march 12, 2009