Columns

 

Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor,

This letter is in response to Dr. Jim's review of The Lord of the Rings movie entitled Pipe-Weed Indeed, found in NoHo>LA dated January 17, 2002. I didn't know it was possible to cram so much unwavering pomposity and glowing contradiction into one review, but one can always be amazed, as was I when reading Dr Jim's flowering critique of the damned. First off, the irony is almost too much to be believed; to accuse Tolkien of "leadenly Germanic prose style." while using phrases such as "leadenly Germanic prose style" and words like "mawkish" is not only unbearably hilarious, but, in the words of Dr. Jim himself, smugly self-indulgent. Nay Dr. Jim, Tolkein's sins are not vast, but simply the sins of creation - your sins however are immense; condescension and snobbery ultimately reeking of a bitterness and jealousy born from a sad lack of potential; those that can, create, those that can't, criticize.

                        From this plateau of absurdity Dr. Jim quickly descends into a quagmire of unrelated observations and fragmented judgments. Mr. Jackson, being the director of the movie, and co-writer of the screenplay, had absolutely nothing to do with the Burger King campaign, for instance. To accuse him of such is to reveal your own ignorance of such matters; this agreeably egregious assault on Tolkien's epic was undoubtedly the dark hand of Warner Bros. at work. Somehow all of this is then tenuously connected to something Dr. Jim calls The Authority of True Goodness (to be read in ominous baritone with much reverberation such the likes that Dr. Jim himself would pay fealty in one of his reviews as to the richness of such jeweled tones) and The Power of Evil (please see parenthetical relating to The Authority of True Goodness). Since when was The Lord of the Rings a quest to establish anything so cardboard as that? Such ridiculous and oversimplified notions have no place in a true artistic review. Then, much to our chagrin as readers, Dr. Jim unabashedly takes us through the bowels of Disneyland; Fantasyland to the Haunted Mansion to Hulk Hogan Village (the latter of which I'm sure the good doctor was quite proud). I ask you this, Dr. Jim: what the hell are you trying to say here?      

                        Then the pandering began. So as not to completely alienate the millions of people that have viewed the movie and loved it (or to gain support from the millions that viewed it and didn't understand it), Dr. Jim plays the Al Qaeda card, comparing the turncoat Sauron to some "daemonic bin Laden." Have you no shame man? What a completely expected and impotent pass of the pen. Next time stick to Disneyland metaphors and you'll be better off.

                        Lastly, and past Dr. Jim's surprising knowledge of wrestling (if you don't see the irony by now you never will), we are confronted with what our resident physician on all things cinema calls a "postmodern marriage of commerce and art-for-the-m-asses, in short, the culture of a new world order." The doctor has boiled down, in his evil laboratory, one of the greatest adaptations of the greatest progenitor of the fantasy genre to this. While I agree that commerce and advertising have crept up over the movie like a fine black plague, I fail to see it here. There is absolutely no product placement in this movie; Gandalf didn't stop off somewhere in Moria and swig a Pepsi, nor did Aragorn tighten his Nikes and beat the orcs in some drawn out fantasy basketball game. No, save your vitriolic observations for movies more deserving, not for those that daringly eschew such tried and true snares for the unsuspecting public. I suggest, doctor, that you read two Nation movie reviews and skip calling me in the morning. -Sincerely, Bradley J Kayl

 

 

Dear Brad,

It's so much fun to bash! Good job! We all love Dr. Jim, he's one of the best read sections of this paper, other than the horoscopes, but it's about time someone shook him up a little. Let's hear how he defends himself from this ballistic missive. - Annie

 

 

Dear Annie,

Bradley J. Kayl tries too hard to demolish me - I'm neither that important nor that difficult a target - but he makes a few points worthy of thoughtful response.

                        Mr. Kayl objects to my critique of Tolkien's literary style on the grounds that my own is guilty of the same sins. He can't have it both ways. Either they're sins, in which case my criticisms of Tolkien stand, regardless of my abilities, or they're not sins, which Mr. Kayl makes no effort to demonstrate.

                        Even a cursory glance at the critical literature on Tolkien should explain my refs to Good & Evil (even the caps aren't mine). Check out C. S. Lewis, W. H. Auden, Edmund Wilson, Ursula K. LeGuin or Isaac Asimov, for these and many more "cardboard notions."

                        Mr. Kayl takes further exception to my suggestion that the Time/Warner-cum-Jackson transmogrification of Tolkien's venerable sacred cow may have socio-political messages not immediately apparent. Some things, Mr. Kayl asserts, "have no place in a true artistic review." (Note, please, that in spite of my flair for drama I have restrained myself from providing the caps implicit in Mr. Kayl's clich".) T.) Though I may envy Mr. Kayl his ability to live in a pure fantasy world, the truth is my own culture is a wonderfully rich mixture of often contradictory elements. One purpose of a printed analysis of a piece of that culture (like, say, a movie review) may be the identification of such hidden messages.

                        Mr. Kayl attempts an apologia for Jackson's "agreeably egregious" Burger King lapse by somehow effecting a divorce betwixt the director and his corporate masters, but I have it on good authority that Mr. Jackson is an adult, who knows full well whom (and what) he lets into his bed.

                        "Sauron" is not the name of the character with whom I had the temerity to associate Mr. bin Laden, nor might the Dark Lord in any sense be labeled a "turncoat" in either Tolkien's work or Jackson's. For that character's name, see the movie (pay attention this time); better yet, read the book (maybe take notes?).

                        I have never made any secret of my estimation of professional wrestling as one of the most significant 20th century American contributions to world culture. I take Mr. Kayl's losing match with the term "irony" as happy proof of my belief.

                        I follow Mr. Kayl on the whole "those-who-can, create; those-who-can't, criticize" declension, but what does that say about those-who-waste-their-time-attacking-the-worthless-criticizers? (Does the phrase "get a life" seem relevant?)  

                        As to the insinuation that I am now, or ever have been a member of The Nation's readership, I respectfully take the Fifth, in deference to my favorite reading matter, NoHo>LA.  (Tho I do confess that I attended public radio fundraisers in my youth, but only as a way to meet old folks, who always have the best pipe weed.)

 

 

 

 The View

by Beverly Garland

 

The Man

Every girl that sees him thinks he is just out of this world.

                        He's got a very sexy mouth. His hair is silky. His legs are long.The girls call him "The Man."

                        When they catch him taking a nap they get as close as they dare and then just ogle him. Right now, "The Man" is not too active.He's most often hanging around his mother. In fact, some might call him a "mama's boy."

                        His sister, who is all of two, feels he doesn't do much around the house and he never plays with her.As far as she's concerned, if he stays that's fine and if he goes-- good!"The Man" is my new grandson. At this writing, he's only 13 days old.As I watched him enter the world, I cried. It was an experience that fed my soul.The first words I could get out of my mouth when I telephoned a close friend at 6 a.m. January 23 to announce the birth of my eight-pound, six ounce grandson were, "He's here! Another miracle!"

                        I am with him almost every night from 5 to 9. Just holding him is a joy.The parents- my daughter, Carrington, and her husband, Carlos - are amazingly patient and practical. Before they name him, they want to watch him, be with him and learn his character.I think that is rather wonderful.It is already obvious to them that most of the names under consideration before the birth just don't seem to match the personality that is emerging in "The Man." Sam and Pablo were on the list, and I think they have been scratched off. I think he looks like a Jimmy, but we already have one. His other grandmother likes Ernest.

                        Each day the parents learn more about their son, and each day they get closer to selecting the most appropriate name. (I've learned the law requires a name on the birth certificate within seven days, unless an extension is granted. They sought and received an extension.)

                        I love it they are waiting until until they get to know their son better. It adds to the warm, wonderful, feeling of deep pride I have for my daughter and her husband. Their thoughtfulness and patience in the naming process is a reflection of their maturity, logic and innate sense of responsibility as parents. Grandmothers who see those admirable qualities in the parents of her grandchildren have no problems sleeping at night.

                        Thanks for reading, and by next month's column, I'm sure I'll know and be able to tell you "The Man's" real name.

                        - Beverly Garland is an actress, owner of the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn in No. Hollywood, and Honorary Mayor of No. Hollywood.

 

 

 

 

 That's Amor 

Quick Concise Love Advice for the Romantically Challenged

 by Laura Charelian

Flakeytown

 

Dear Laura,

Dating is such a bummer here. This town is so full of flakes, weirdos, and wannabe's. I've lived here eight years and am getting very discouraged in my search for love. Should I move back to Ohio? - Larry in Los Feliz

 

Dear Larry,

It sounds like you've been crashing too many of those big, scary parties in the Hills. The free food ain't worth it, dude. "The Land of Fruits and Nuts" complaint is a vintage L.A. whine that I indulged in myself first few years here. L.A. does attract its fair share of starry-eyed googahs from all over the globe, but this is where dreamers come, OK? A good percentage of the population is here trying to "make it" in the "biz." This pursuit can sometimes result in manifestations of narcissistic tunnel vision, annoying name dropping tendencies, and dreary loser burnout syndrome. You can see these people coming a mile away, just AVOID them.

                        I've found the vast majority of people here are fairly normal, law abiding, interesting folks. I'm a former Midwesterner, too, and in my single days I believed I would probably end up with a sensible, solid transplant from some flat state, like myself. We'd make our home here but find comfort and bonding in our compatible heartland values and fondness for Miracle Whip. I ended up falling for a native son, born and bred here, as L.A. as a Tommy Burger. I found him when I finally decided to give up my convenient stereotypes and excuses and just believe in the possibility of his existence. Los Angeles may seem overwhelming at times, but every place has its challenges. Try living in BF Idaho, population 402, where your most eligible romantic prospects are the thick-calved lovely on the dairy farm down the road or the oft-married divorcee trailer trash with the big dish just over the ridge.

                        Two bits of advice: expand your horizons and get a sense of humor. Go to new places, try new activities, make new friends. If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always gotten. Dating isn't always a walk in the park, so find something to laugh about and keep going.

                        Finally, ask yourself why you are here in the Land of La. If you plan to stay here, then make the commitment, adjust the perspective, and tweak the Ôtude. This is L.A.; anything is possible, even love. Trust me - Ohio ain't going anywhere.

                        - Laura at amore@us.inter.net 

 

 

 

 

The 6th Element

by Juan Maldonado

Welcome to NoHo LA's new column dedicated to all aspects of hip hop culture. To anyone familiar with hip hop, it is common knowledge that the culture is based on 5 elements; emceeing, deejaying, graffiti art, B-boying and beat boxing. Over time different components have integrated themselves into the culture and have been counted in as "elements."  However, most people - especially those that have been in the game for some time - agree that the fundamentals of the culture stand firm as the aforementioned 5 elements.

                        This column's purpose is to add yet another element to our culture, one that at the beginning of the art form was inherent in the element of emceeing but, because of commercial radio and music television,  has grown farther and farther away from where it was conceived.  I'm talking about adding journalism to the 5 fundamental elements, turning it into "the 6th Element."

                        I have several plans for the 6th Element.  You can expect the usual things you would find in an entertainment column, album reviews, listings of events and artist interviews.  But this column is also going to be much deeper than that.  I plan to delve into political issues faced by the hip hop generation, the adulteration of the art form by the major labels and commercial radio, and the history of the culture.  The 6th Element promises to be a reflection of the culture itself, a comprehensive look at all aspects of hip hop.

 

 

 

Cecily Speaks

by Cecily Knobler

Love, Again  

 

Remember that old Dan Folgelberg song whose lyrics state, "Met my old lover in a grocery store. The snow was falling Christmas Eve?" Okay, well, substitute "Westside Casting" for "Grocery Store" and forget all that stuff about falling snow and Christmas and you've got MY song.

                        I hear from my agent about once every six months, so you can imagine my delight when I got the call regarding an audition for an industrial about how to make beer or some such. "Dress casual," he instructed and I thought how bizarre it would be if we were to dress FORMALLY for this event. "Cecily, you are reading for the part of the Bud Light factory worker, do you have a top hat and a monocle?"  I slipped on my low-rise Levis, a tight Melrose T-shirt that read "69 All Stars" and headed west.   At a stoplight in Century City, I got a hankering for an old mixed tape entitled  "You're So Much Better Than Him and You Know It Grrrrl...The Tape" and after a bit of a scramble, found it wedged between my emergency brake and an old Dramalogue. I popped it in and after singing along with a few Ani Difranco tunes, I was pleased to hear one of the original theme songs for strong, but heartbroken women...

                        "I...Will...Survive." 

                        As I happily hummed along, I recalled the Alpha Delta Beta Barfa (fill in Greek letter here) Sorority girls dancing on top of frat house bar stools whilst screaming the words, "NOW GO, WALK OUT THE DOOR, DON'T TURN AROUND NOW..."blah, blah, blah.  They had hugged each other with such drunken intensity and would intermittently saying things like, "I never really had a true sister" and " Omega Pledge Class rules," but still, they got their point across. They would survive. Maybe not as rocket scientists or brain surgeons, but they would breathe again without Skip or Brad or Brian.    

                        I parked in the casting lot, checked for lipstick on the teeth and tapped the steering wheel with a "go get em."   Upon entering the office, I'd been looking down at my resume thinking that credits from the Waco Community Theater probably weren't helping my career matters. I searched the room and my eyes came up with a sign that read, "Auditions for Fruit of the Loom now moved to Eastside Casting" and Him. Yes, Him.... the one who Gloria Gaynor must have had in mind when writing that proud survival anthem.

                        AND SO YOU'RE BACK, FROM OUTER SPACE...

                        He was wearing his trademark thrift-store pants and his hair had that jet-black "Bedhead" product, "I idolize Robert Downey Jr. thing" going. His face projected a mixture of simple anxiety and pure horror upon seeing me. Perhaps he was merely surprised, but most likely that look was drawn from his fear that I would begin yelling "THIS GUY IS A GOBLIN...DO YOU HEAR ME?  TAKE HIS PICTURE, MR. CASTING DIRECTOR...HE WON'T SHOW UP IN IT" I had no intention of yelling such things because I know that he is not truly a goblin...a troll or a tiny devil, maybe, but certainly not a goblin.  He looked at me and said, "Hi. You look great."

                        DID YOU THINK I'D CRUMBLE? DID YOU THINK I'D LAY DOWN AND DIE?

                        We awkwardly chatted for a bit and he did indeed show up in his casting polaroid.  He asked, "What have you been up to?" I answered, "Well, I spent so many nights just feeling sorry for myself, I used to cry, but now basically I hold my head up high."  To this, he rightfully appeared confused and slowly backed away to the other end of the office. "Well, good to see you," he said.  I watched him back away and I thought how amazing it was that someone I had once loved so dearly could now evoke such a strange mixture of adoration and pain.

                        The line between love and hate is sweet and grainy and white like sugar from a pixie stick. I recognize it often and want to trace it with my fingers and then lick it or snort it until it infects my blood stream and I am consumed. Is that weird?  I have seemingly gotten to a strange juncture where I don't even desire love anymore...only that line that separates it from disdain, because that's all I understand.  But I listen to the words of that exceptional song and I know that not only will I survive, but that this juncture will pass and I will find love again. Especially if I stop dating actors.

 

 

 

Do-it Yourself Acupressure

by Allison Howard

 

      Stress

Q:I have a very high stress job and I've heard how great meditation can be to relax and destress. I've tried it but I find it really hard to focus my mind. When I meditate, thoughts keep coming up. I find myself in elaborate daydreams or planning errands. Anything but getting quiet. Are there any points that can help?

A: Stress is very damaging to both our physical and mental health. It's a great example of the mind body connection at work. Meditation is a wonderful way to ease that stress, quiet the mind and help us enter stressful environments while staying centered and calm.

                        The most effective and useful tool for meditation is the breath. Follow your inhale and then your exhale. One breath at a time. As soon as you realize your mind has wandered off, bring it back. At first it may take some time before you even realize you're not watching the breath, but as you continue your practice it will take less and less time to catch your mind straying. Just keep bringing your attention back to the breath. No judgment, worry or frustration. This is a process; it's not about perfection.

I would recommend starting with just 15 minutes a day and slowly building up from there. Even if our minds are still racing, it's good to have a moment of quiet in our busy lives. Most of us are so focused on achieving a goal and getting things done. It's a great beginning to shift to a place where the goal is to do nothing or more optimally a place where there is no goal at all. We just are. Quiet and centered and still. It can be helpful to use an image of the ocean with choppy waves on the top (our random, persistent thoughts and busy lives) but inside a deep stillness. Connect with that stillness and allow it to penetrate every cell.

                        One of my favorite points to use in meditation is Yintang, which is located on the forehead just above the bridge of the nose. The best way to acupressure this point is to use a gentle pulsing motion with your index and middle finger for a couple minutes just prior to meditation. Meditation can be difficult but the rewards are great. It's an ever changing and forever challenging process. Our thoughts come up and then they pass. Just keep coming back to the breath and allow your mind to quiet.

                        - Allison Howard, L.Ac. is a licensed acupunc-turist & herbalist practicing on Riverside Dr. in No. Hollywood. 818-508-0885 or email allipuncture@msn.com.

 

 

Greta Blackburn's Stay Youthful!

Memory

 

Dear Greta,

You recently answered a question regarding memory loss and aging. Someone wrote to you about becoming more forgetful in their forties. I, too, am worried about this. Seems  more and more that I can't remember names, phone numbers, where I put things. I'm not happy about this. I've heard about "smart foods"- things that help feed your mind. Is there really something I can eat which will nourish my brain and help with my memory loss? - Spaced in Sherman Oaks

 

Dear Spaced,

Sorry, I forgot the question. Kidding! Here's the deal, memory does tend to fade a bit with time. According to the New York Memory and Healthy Aging Services, reports of menopause-related memory and cognitive disturbances due to estrogen loss are increasing. According to AARP, nearly three percent of persons aged 65 to 74 have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease or other forms of dementia. The percentage increases to 19 percent for those aged 74 to 84 and to nearly 50 percent for those aged 85 and older.

                        There's no way to absolutely guarantee that your brain will function at 100 percent for the rest of your life, since growing older is the number one risk factor for cognitive problems. Factors like free radical damage, nutritional deficiencies and low estrogen levels also contribute, but you can help compensate by eating a healthy, low-fat diet. You might want to start putting soy milk in your daily coffee or cereal. New research shows that soy's phytoestrogens can help prevent the onset of cognitive dysfunction in healthy people. Researchers believe that soy can provide significant benefit in certain memory functions. So put that in your cup and drink it!

                        - Greta is an actress and a dancer in Los Angeles. Go to www.fitcamp.com for more info! Send your questions on beauty and longevity to Greta at GretaBFIT@aol.com