But weep not, Angelenos, and please don’t start planning a farewell parade. Not only can the city not afford it at this time, but I’m also not going far—I’ll be calling the city of Glendale my new home. (Quick, how do you say “Glendale” in Armenian?)

Wait a second, isn’t Glendale in L.A. County? What’s the big f***ing deal, you ask?

Well, sadly, I’m also leaving L.A. Metblogs.

It’s been a fun ride. It all started with Meanwhile, Back at the Swamp and ended with The Triumphant Return of Fred Rated. (Well, technically, it’s ending with this post, but you get the idea.)

Yup, 101 posts in just over two years. That’s not exactly prolific for a blogger, but it’s been enough to let me live comfortably without sacrificing my creative integrity.

Many thanks to editor extraordinaire Lucinda Michele, who gave me my first writing gig back when she was kicking ass at L.A. Alternative, and to all the other talented scribes and editors here at L.A. Metblogs.

For those of you who have enjoyed my posts on science fiction-related events throughout the city, I’d encourage you to visit my blog cetialpha5, which is being updated (in a “Lost”-like non-linear fashion) as we speak. Also, if you’re into the whole social media thing, you can also “like” me on Facebook.

And since I promised myself I wouldn’t get all sad and weepy-like, let me just leave you with this:

Just met with the legendary Shadoe Stevens; we’re almost done booking a tribute night to him and the Federated Group commercials for June. All L.A. locals, rejoice!!

Never seen a Federated Group commercial before?

Well now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

UPDATE: The date has been set: June 15 at 8:00 p.m. Tickets are on sale now.

L.A. Machineguns: Rage of the Machines

Before L.A. Noire and before True Crime: Streets of LA (but after Police Quest: Open Season), there was L.A. Machineguns: Rage of the Machines.

Gaming site Kotaku has broke the news that Sega is planning on releasing the 1998 arcade light-gun shooter classic (release date TBD) for the Nintendo Wii console, as part of a dual pack with it’s 1996 predecessor, Gunblade NY.

Want to know the plot? Here it is, straight from the promotional poster:

The Story: Year 2025. A militia of androids has suddenly materialized in Los Angeles. Calling themselves the “R.O.M.” – “Rage of the Machines” – the androids launch a fierce offensive against the entire West Coast regions. The federal government responds by mobilizing its ace counterterrorist forces “S.I.F.A.T”. Against the backdrop of the Pacific Coast, a struggle of unparalleled intensity has begun.

So, are you ready to join the Special Independent Force Against Terrorism?

Let the “pew, pew, pew” begin!

Image via The Arcade Flyer Archive.

Au contraire, my little Mirabilis jalapa, your dreams are so precious that not one, but three cultural organizations have banded together to help you unlock the mysteries of your nocturnal cognitions.

On May 1st, artSpa and Machine Project are hosting an overnight Dream-In at the Hammer Museum.

According to the Hammer’s website, the evening will feature “experimental dreaming workshops, concerts, and bedtime stories, followed by a waking concert in the morning, all facilitated by a dreamy batch of local artist-psychonauts.”

For the inevitable hangover, the next day, museum visitors may encounter “dream reenactments, workshops, and napping music.”

The experimental dream workshops will be run by Claire Cronin, Ecstatic Energy Consultants Inc., Katie Bachler, Krystal Krunch, Laura Steenberge, and Marc Herbst.

Online registration begins today.

Image: Seaside Unicorn by Steve Read.

Matheson single-handledly kick-started the zombie/vampire/supervirus/apocalypse genre with his 1954 novel I Am Legend. The genre is more popular today than ever (see Seth Grahame-Smith’s ridiculous literary mashup Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) and Matheson’s novel has proven just as influential, if not more so, in the cinematic realm.

The novel has been adapted for the screen three times so far: As The Last Man on Earth (1964), starring Vincent Price; as The Omega Man (1971), starring Charlton Heston; and as I Am Legend (2007), starring Will Smith.

Of the three iterations, The Last Man on Earth is probably my favorite. But if I were stuck on a desert island? I’d choose The Omega Man.

Why? Well, for starters, it’s the only version that, like Matheson’s novel, is set in Los Angeles.

Which isn’t exactly a trivial point.

See, Matheson wrote the novel just a few short years after moving to California.

The narrative follows the trials and tribulations of the seemingly sole survivor of a plague that transforms humans into vampires. The protagonist spends his days devising new and inventive ways to keep the blood-sucking masses at bay.

Fortress Los Angeles, anyone?

The swaggering and heavily-armed Heston turns in a me-versus-the-world performance that seems to take the city’s NIMBYest traits and stretches them to their extreme and logical conclusions. The role also seems to foreshadow Heston’s later years as the head honcho of the NRA.

The Omega Man is also the only filmed version set in the 70′s, the setting Matheson chose in his novel. Perhaps that’s a trivial point, but the film was shot in the then-desolate wasteland of Bunker Hill, which gives the proceedings a surreal sense of authenticity. Well, at least the sequences where he’s driving alone downtown.

Watch for the scene where Heston starts up a projector in an abandoned movie theater and then sadly mouths the dialogue to Woodstock. It’s a tender and surreal moment in cinematic history, and worth the price of admission alone.

[This post is part of Metblog's L.A. Plays Itself in the Movies series.]

“Could very well be, Antonio. We are the creative capital of the world.”

“Exactly. And last night, as I was looking for inspiration for the tough job ahead of us, I dusted off one of my favorite DVDs. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest.

“Oh yes, I love Johnny Depp.”

“And you know, I’m thinking of incorporating some dialogue from my favorite scene on our next stop. Wanna hear it?”

“Um…”

The Mayor grabs a nearby mop head and places it on his face, effecting a makeshift beard. Then, in his best Scottish accent:

“‘Let no joyful voice be heard! Let no man look up in the sky with hope! And let this day be cursed by we who ready to wake … the Kraken!’

“Well, what do you think?”

“Not really sure. Could use finessing.”

A tattooed Luis Guzman answers the door to his house and is greeted by Wilson, a gray-haired Cockney, played by Terrence Stamp.

“Edward Roll?,” asks Wilson.

Guzman rolls his eyes, and says, “Eduardo Roo-el.”

It’s a fun exchange in the Lem Dobbs-written and Steven Soderbergh-directed late-’90s neo-noir The Limey (trailer), a film of understated performances, contemplative characters capable of brutal violence, and masterful editing that packs in more character development than seems possible in 90 minutes.

And, oh yeah, it’s set in Los Angeles.

Wilson, a career criminal who just finished a nine-year sentence for armed robbery, has come to L.A. to avenge the death of his daughter, Jenny.

Jenny had been dating Terry Valentine, a smarmy rock promoter (Peter Fonda, playing against character) who “took the whole ’60s California zeitgeist and ran with it.”

When Jenny died in a suspicious car accident on Mulholland Drive, her acting class friend, Eduardo, sent a newspaper clipping to Wilson.

Can you see where this is going?

For a brutal killer hell-bent on revenge, Wilson is a surprisingly sympathetic protagonist.

Perhaps it’s the way he doesn’t fit in.

On a number of occasions, Wilson needs to explain how his rhyming slang works. For example: “He’s my China.” “Your what?” “You know, China? China plate? Mate?”

Or maybe it’s the way he quickly adapts to his surroundings.

In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, Wilson and Eduardo go to a party at Terry Valentine’s stilt house atop a mountain. On the property’s pool-decked terrace, Wilson looks over the ledge and is shocked to see that it appears as though the house is floating over the terrain. “Blimey,” he says. “What are we standing on?” “Trust,” answers Ruel. Just a few minutes later, Wilson handily tosses a bodyguard over the same ledge. Talk about a quick study!

But more likely, Wilson’s vulnerability is what makes his character intriguing. A father who missed his daughter growing up (she referred to him as “Daddy, the friendly ghost”), Wilson’s quest for vengeance leads him on a journey where he must come to grips with his own shortcomings as a human being.

For some of the film’s flashbacks, Soderbergh weaves in footage of Stamp from neo-realist Ken Loach’s Poor Cow (1967), in which the actor also played a thief. The effect of juxtaposing the 28-year-old and the 60-year-old Stamp is effective and, at times, nearly heartbreaking.

I’m not sure The Limey has anything particularly profound to say about Los Angeles. The Fonda character made one Northern California critic at the time argue that the film was taking aim at L.A. decadence.

Wishful thinking, I’d say.

I’d surmise the setting is more likely an homage to Raymond Chandler and the hardboiled fiction he set in Los Angeles, or the great film noir that Hollywood produced shortly thereafter.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

No doubt about it.

I’m not saying it’d be an easy thing to do, but what if the fate of the human race depended on it?

Hopefully this nightmare scenario won’t occur until after they’ve performed as The Living Sisters at the Getty Center on March 13.

Tickets are free; but you’ll need a reservation (get one at 9:00 am today).

That is all, human.

Photo: Lauren Dukoff

Yeah, that would shake us out of our complacency! Or would it?

See, not only were we attacked by H.G. Wells’ little green men in 1898 in a pre-iPad medium, but also in 1938 courtesy of Mercury Theatre on the Air. Then our fair city was attacked in 1953, in Technicolor no less. Most recently we were attacked in 2005, no thanks to the heroics of Thomas Cruise Mapother IV.

And what have we learned as a society? Not much.

But don’t let that stop you from heading to Santa Monica’s Aero Theatre tonight to see the 1953 filmed version of War of the Worlds, part of the American Cinematheque’s Gene Barry memorial double feature.

Los Angeles’ comeuppance begins at 7:30 p.m., Sam Fuller’s China Gate (1957) follows.

Moscow-born and Los Angeles-bred filmmaker Dmitri Trakovsky has arranged for a pair of additional screenings for both this weekend and next of his documentary Meeting Andrei Tarkovsky (see the schedule for exact times and locations), which explores Tarkovsky’s enigmatic declaration that death doesn’t exist.

Yes, you read that right: Death. Doesn’t. Exist.

Chew on that during Super Bowl halftime.

Image: A laughing Tarkovsky. Relax your eyes to see him in 3D.