“Blade Runner” is, for Angelenos, part of our cinematic DNA. It envisions a dystopic future Los Angeles that borrows from the past but, to some, it disturbingly resembles the present. However, I suspect that more than a few Angelenos are jaded by the repeated “Blade Runner” viewings and the comical number of versions that have been released, especially the “Blade Runner For Dummies” narration of the original U.S. theatrical release. As one such Angeleno, I was mesmerized upon discovering the above video showing the real-life “Blade Runner” filming locations matched shot-for-shot with their depictions in the movie.

The “Blade Runner” video above was created by Herve Attia, a blogger who makes it his mission to visit the locations of movies such as “Die Hard”, “The Shining”, and one of my favorites, “Once Upon a Time in the West”, where he works his location shot magic. In the case of “Blade Runner”, as many Angelenos know, those locations include the historic Bradbury Building, Frank Lloyd Wright‘s 1924 Mayan-themed Ennis House, Union Station, and more. However, I found it fascinating the way Attia includes iconic shots from “Blade Runner” and then dissolves to the matching present-day location. In this case, viewers can see how director Ridley Scott and his team layered colors, filters, lighting, projection, and other elements (I’ll defer to the production experts among you for the details) to create a future/past L.A. that will remain in the minds of many of us forever.

In a city that doubles as one of the world’s most popular movie sets, where the line between reality and cinematic fantasy is often blurred, count me as now truly impressed and un-jaded.

I swear about 2 million people have e-mailed me this image in the past month. I’m posting it because it’s amusing and hopefully that will announce to the world that I’ve seen it and don’t need it e-mailed to me again.

Removing the injured and taking off literally nanoseconds before the span collapses, I’m rapt wondering if this is a spot for Skyline, Harry Potter and the I Don’t Give a Crap, or perhaps one final political ad from Meg Whitman, until the familiarity of the location breaks the spell and I grab the remote and take myself back to the bridge. Sure enough, I pause the scene and grab the cam:

(click image to maximize)

Though I’d guess the US Air Force recruitment commercial is trying to conjure up a New Orleans bridge over the Mississippi, what you’re really looking at above is a downtownward-looking angle from our very own historic 6th Street Viaduct, albeit augmented with severe storm crap (is that part of a house?) atop a heavily CGI’d river flowing below it, literally bank-to-bank.

Ironically, there’s some truth in the apocalyptic ad showing the bridge falling apart, because indeed it slowly is. The concrete made on-site when the Merrill Butler-designed landmark was completed in 1932 is slowly failing.

From the Bridge’s Wiki page:

The quality of the concrete turned out to have a high alkali content and lead to an alkali-silica reaction which creates cracks in the concrete and saps the strength of the structure. Current estimates are that the viaduct has a 70% probability of collapse due to a major earthquake within 50 years.

As the end of October approaches, we’re hotly anticipating that time when the heady aroma of smashed jackolanterns will once more waft through the air. So check in with us over the next week and a half as we bring you a variety of perspectives on navigating Halloween in Los Angeles – from LA’s spookiest places, to ghostly events, to more Lizard People coverage than you ever thought you’d need (and believe me, you do actually need it). Bookmark this post, because I’ll be keeping an archive of all our Halloween posts. And please comment below and let us know about your favorite scary sights, haunted houses and local Halloween festivities!

The Creepy Beneath Our Feet:  Kevin’s ongoing expose on the Secret Lives of Lizard People (and possibly the greatest run of posts this site has ever known)

LA’s Lizard People

The Patron Saint of the Lizard People

The City with Scaly Shoulders

Lizard People and the Bigger Picture

Passages to the Underworld

Lizards in Disguise

The Real (and Not Actually Creepy Thing

And because all good things must, sadly, end, the Wrap-Up.

Other, less lizard-oriented Halloween posts:

Navigating street closures at the West Hollywood Costume Carnival

Seriously Corny

Hide Your Silly String Tonight

Halloween Wardrobe Mal-Function

Sunshine Gothic

But after moving here, I discovered that the Griffith Observatory is the Swiss Army Knife of Los Angeles landmarks.  It has numerous uses, and appeals to people for different reasons beyond its starring role in “Rebel” (and its lesser role in “The Terminator“):

1.  The Architecture

In a city full of art deco designs, the Griffith is perhaps the standout.  That may be because the gleaming three-domed concrete building literally stands out, maybe more than any structure in Los Angeles save for the Hollywood sign.  It has been called “the hood ornament of Los Angeles,” an apt term for our car-obsessed city.  The Griffith, constructed during the Great Depression and formally opened to the public in 1935, can be approached and explored from many angles.  As often happens with art deco structures, I discover some new detail — a nook, carving, door, or viewing perspective — every time I go.  Last time I was there, after our fabulous Donut Summit, I hiked on the trails around the Griffith and enjoyed seeing it from a distance as well.

2.  The Planetarium and Telescope

The Griffith is, after all, an observatory, and many schoolchildren are taken there primarily for this purpose.  The Observatory was closed for renovations, including an underground expansion, in 2002 and reopened in early November 2006, coincidentally, just a few days before I arrived here.  Now it is as popular as ever, with its renamed Samuel Oschin Planetarium redone with state-of-the-art projectors and equipment.  A nifty, industrial-design cafe was added during the redo, subtly sunken below grade on the side, with a long terrace outside.  I happen to think the cafe is a tasteful and tasty addition to the Observatory.

3.  The View

It is perfectly rational to come to the Griffith and not set foot inside.  In addition to the architecture, the views from the Griffith are captivating.  I didn’t realize that L.A. had several separated clusters of tall buildings (downtown, Century City, Wilshire Corridor) until I viewed them from the Griffith.  But then turn in another direction, and you’ll see modern and classic Spanish style homes, Jacaranda trees (depending on the time of year), and usually arid hills that dominate this part of the city.  And of course, the Hollywood sign.  Turn a few degrees more, and, on a clear day, you’ll see the ocean.

I would also be remiss in not mentioning that the Griffith Observatory is nestled near the edge of the fabulous, 3,000 acre Griffith Park.  From picnicking (and Donut Summiteering) to the Greek Theater to the hiking trails, one can easily branch out from the Observatory to enjoy its surroundings.

4.  The Democracy

As befits an important city landmark, admission to the Griffith and surrounding park is free.  Parking is free.  Telescope viewing at night is free.  The planetarium will set you back, but not very much.  On any given day, you’re likely to find a mixture of locals, tourists, schoolchildren on field trips, and a tv actor walking his Great Dane (although you’ll have to be there with someone else, as I was, who has the radar to spot these stars under their baseball caps).  Folks I know enjoy the place at twilight, for hiking or picnics and drinks under the emerging stars.

Ultimately, then, what is so appealing to me about the Griffith Observatory is its versatility.  Angelenos and tourists alike can go to this magical-looking place, named after the fantastically named Griffith Griffith and located on top of the appropriately named Mount Hollywood, to pursue their own wishes, from architectural exploration to hiking to viewing the city from above to star-gazing, both celestial and celluloid.  What could be more L.A. than that?

(See the rest of the “L.A.’s Greatest Landmarks” series here)

This year’s Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival (LAAPFF) has played host to a number of sold-out/standing room only screenings. One of the most highly anticipated premieres was ‘Ktown Cowboys,’ which comes to us via director Daniel DPD Park, writer/funnyman Danny Cho and a team of amazing folks who debuted the first five webisodes of ‘Ktown Cowboys’ to the lucky folks at the screening. The unlucky folks who couldn’t get a ticket in will simply have to catch this online as they release new episodes every couple of weeks or so. (Don’t forget to subscribe on YouTube to get notified of new episodes– I already did!)

My buddy Edward describes ‘Ktown Cowboys’ like this: “Imagine ‘The Hangover‘ but tak[ing] place in Koreatown. Hilarity ensues.” The producers of the upcoming (so-called) “Asian American Jersey Shore” might be kicking themselves after they realize they’ve been beaten to the punch for something that shows hot Asian/Korean Americans (boys and girls) drinking, partying, booking, karaoke-ing– and yes– fighting.

I love ‘Ktown Cowboys’ because it’s funny, made by Asian Americans who don’t mind being a little tongue-in-cheek, and it is shot in actual Ktown locations where you might see some of this stuff go down on any given Friday night. I shouldn’t have to tell you this is an exaggerated POV of Ktown, yet somehow, it is eerily accurate at the same time.

When John Kim (Lanny Joon) relocates from the comforts of his picket-fence, WASP neighborhood of Richmond, Virginia to the alluring city of Ktown Los Angeles, the land of sultry women, Booking Clubs, and late night taco trucks, his arrival immediately sparks the most epic night of his life. His cousin, Jason (Shane Yoon) introduces John to his audacious crew (Peter Jae, Danny Cho, Sunn Wee, and Bobby Big Phony Choy) who teach John the basic yet inventive ways on how to survive the perfect Friday night in Ktown. Special appearances by Justin Chon (Twilight) and Bobby Lee (Mad TV).

The Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival (LAAPFF) continues throughout this week in Downtown Los Angeles.

Julie (Deborah Foreman) and Randy (a very young Nicolas Cage) are geography-crossed teenagers in love in 1983 Los Angeles. Not long after dumping her popular boyfriend, Tommy, Julie falls for Randy, who is from Hollywood. Her friends do not approve because, like oh my gawd, he’s “different.” He wears red and black instead of pastels, he slums it in a loud, dirty bar, and has friends who look like Sid Vicious. Grody to the max. I’m so sure.

In spite of how much Julie likes Randy, her bitchy “friends” convince her to “do the right thing,” which is break up with Randy and get back together with Tommy. They threaten her with the prospect of losing all of them and her social status. While truly conflicted, the desire to be popular prevails. What a total bummer. Randy is crushed and tries really hard to win Julie back, but she won’t give in.

In one last ditch effort to get the girl, Randy and his best friend crash the Valley High prom and make quite a scene disrupting the coronation of Prom King and Queen, Tommy and Julie. Fists fly and Randy and Julie steal away in the limo that brought her to the dance. Off they go, up the 405, to spend what can only have been an amazing night at the Valley Sheraton.

The premise of this movie, a modern day Romeo and Juliet, depends on Los Angeles playing a strong supporting role. You could even look at the L.A. portrayed in Valley Girl as multiple characters: The Valley, Hollywood, and The Beach. Now that I live in L.A., I definitely suffer from the problem of noticing, and often pointing out, the liberties that are taken in presenting the city. It’s something I didn’t think about before moving here in 1994. I find it fascinating to see how parts of Los Angeles are stitched together to create a version of the city that suits the needs of the storyteller.

L.A. is actually the first character you see and hear about as Valley Girl starts. A radio announcer says, “…they’ll be playing at the Hollywood Bowl…” as we hover above the Lake Hollywood reservoir looking toward Hollywood. We then head over the hills that house the famous sign for a reveal of The Valley. Well, it’s Burbank, but close enough. What I do find amusing is that instead of panning west into The Valley proper, we pan east into Glendale. Anyway, what-EVER! The first place where we encounter the Valley girls is The Mall. Duh. The location used for the opening sequence is the Del Amo Fashion Center in Torrance, not the Sherman Oaks Galleria which is often misstated on various websites. In addition to official location lists, there is a clear shot of a door handle at the mall that says Del Amo on it.

The generic beach where all the kids are hanging out is a minor, but pivotal character. It’s a more neutral location where you really have to look at some one’s hair or listen to them talk to see if they are one of “us” or “them.” It’s here where Julie and Randy (“what a hunk!”) exchange glances while Randy’s friend, Fred, overhears the address for a party in the Valley later that night. Randy’s initial reaction is, “I don’t wanna go to the Valley. I’m not in the mood to go to the Valley.”

Of course Randy and Fred do go to the Valley party where they stick out as being quite different from everyone else with their red and black clothing and their disdain for sushi. Randy talks to Julie, which the ex-boyfriend Tommy doesn’t like so he and his friends punch Randy and literally throw Randy and Fred out the door. Randy is smitten and says, “That chick Julie, she’s truly dazzling” and Fred replies, “yeah, but she’s not one of ours.” The guys barely pull away from the house when Randy stops the car, sneaks into the house. He manages to convince Julie to leave the party. She brings along her incredibly annoying and whiny friend, Stacey, who protests, “oh no, it’s those guys! They’re hoods, look at them!” She dragged along and exclaims, “I’m simply going to freak out and die!” If we could have only been so lucky.

The four are driving along what looks like Mulholland Drive and make a right turn into Hollywood. The girls are wide-eyed, as if they’ve never been to this part of town. Certainly they’ve never been there at night. Stacey says, “Julie, look!” at a guy who has been pulled over by the cops. By her astonishment, I can only assume that things like that never happen in The Valley.

They’re traveling, in Randy’s convertible, east on Hollywood Boulevard as they pass Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and just next to that, the Rainbow Bar and Grill and The Roxy, which are both actually on the Sunset Strip. Across the street is the Pussycat Theater, an adult cinema in West Hollywood that is now Studs. Randy calls out to friends hanging out or walking on the sidewalks. He’s clearly popular in this neighborhood and seems to know not only an ethnically divers crowd of people, but an actual punk dude. Stacey becomes more and more distressed. After continuing past the Nuart Theater (I think) and Musso and Frank, she states, “Look, I’m getting out of this car,” prompting Randy to say, “Okay, but if they attack the car, save the radio.” All we hear from Stacey is an ear damaging, “Juuuuuuuuuuuliiiiiiiiiiieeee…”

Club Central, which is now The Viper Room, is Randy’s “home away from home” and their next stop. There’s live music (The Plimsouls), mohawks, and apparently germs as Stacey put napkins on the chair before she sits down. At some point Randy says, “You won’t catch anything.” Stacey complains about the loud music, Fred says they are “living on the edge.” Randy and Julie kiss in the club and then some more while parking on a hillside overlooking the lights of Hollywood.

Julie is smitten and tells her friends, “he’s the most awesome dude EVAR!” and “man, he’s just like tripendicular.” The next day Randy comes to visit Julie in The Valley. One of the most well-known New Wave songs of the ’80′s, “I Melt With You” by Modern English, plays behind a montage of Randy and Julie hanging out on several occasions in The Valley at places like Du-Pars in Studio City and The Sherman Theatre in Sherman Oaks, which has since closed. Other prominent Valley landmarks include Casa Vega restaurant and a Winchell’s Donut House. As Julie and Randy take off from the prom at the end of the movie, the one last L.A. icon we see is the Sherman Oaks Galleria, once a shopping mecca and now a complex housing several chain restaurants, an Arclight Cinema, a gym, and a few shops.

Throughout the movie, both the Val kids and the guys from Hollywood are pretty judgmental of each other. It’s totally awesome that Randy and Julie throw caution to the wind and decide to not let the Santa Monica Mountains, or their friends’ attitudes (especially in Julie’s case) keep them apart.

Julie: “We go to normal parties, we go to normal places, we buy nice new clothes.”

Fred: “No different from what we do.”

Randy: “It’s the way we do things that makes the difference.”

This post is part of the L.A. Plays Itself in the Movies series. For a listing of posts in this series, click here.

From cruising “the boulevard” to other slice of life bits the film pretty well covers the LA Scene of the era, albeit as cartoony as Roger Rabbit.   Even the Griffith Park Observatory plays a cameo as the “Deca Disco”. Best line in the movie: “You’re so lucky you crashed in The Valley, its the baddest place on earth”. Indeed.

All the cast info you could want is over on the IMDB. In the mean time enjoy a clip from the movie. (Including one extra after the jump).

“How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle.”

— Walter Neff

For one of the last films in this LA Metblogs series, let’s look at one of the first to document the decadence and decay of the Los Angeles dream: Double Indemnity. Directed by Billy Wilder, co-written by Wilder and Raymond Chandler, it stars Fred MacMurray as insurance agent Walter Neff and Barbara Stanwyck as femme fatale Phyllis Dietrichson, along with Edward G. Robinson as Neff’s best friend and claims investigating coworker Barton Keyes.

As a kid raised on TV reruns in the 1970s I got to know MacMurray mostly as Steve Douglas the even-keeled and level-headed, father to those three sons of TV’s long-running My Three Sons, Same with Stanwyck, who was familiar to me as Victoria Barkley the widowed, wealthy and strong-willed matriarch in the series The Big Valley. So when I finally got around to growing up and seeing them as the unholy alliance that drives this classic, I was quite delightfully taken aback to see them so different in such deliciously devious roles in so devilishly dark a film.

Threaded together via MacMurray’s flashback voice-over, Double Indemnity matches Stanwyck’s predatory housewife with MacMurray’s congenial everyman. Together they connive and scheme a murder of her husband for purposes of desire and dough, but ultimately are doomed in large part to the dogged detective work of Keyes, remarkably portrayed by Robinson.

“Murder’s never perfect. Always comes apart sooner or later, and when two people are involved it’s usually sooner. Now we know the Dietrichson dame is in it and a somebody else. Pretty soon, we’ll know who that somebody is. He’ll show. He’s got to show. Sometime, somewhere, they’ve got to meet. Their emotions are all kicked up. Whether it’s love or hate doesn’t matter; they can’t keep away from each other.”

— Barton Keyes

What’s never doomed is the wicked smart dialogue, as evidenced after the jump in one of my favorite exchanges between the dynamically deviant duo when they first meet (and dig on the awesome — and first — use of a noir staple: light through the venetian blinds):

Who’d you think I was anyway? The guy that walks into a good looking dame’s front parlor and says, “Good afternoon, I sell accident insurance on husbands… you got one that’s been around too long? One you’d like to turn into a little hard cash?”

— Walter Neff

Set in 1938 Los Angeles, the screenplay was adapted by Wilder and Raymond Chandler from Three of a Kind, a 1943 novella from the novella of the same name that appeared in the 1943 anthology Three of a Kind by James M. Cain (The Postman Always Rings Twice, Mildred Pierce), which Cain drew from the real-life 1927 crime perpetrated by Queens, NY, housewife Ruth Snyder and her lover, a 32-year-old corset salesman named Judd Gray. Snyder persuaded Gray to kill her husband Albert after having her spouse take out a $48,000 insurance policy with a double-indemnity clause (which doubles the benefit amount in the event of accidental death). Judd garroted Albert, stuffed chloroform rags up his nose then badly staged the scene as a burglary gone way wrong. Ruth and Judd were eventually arrested, convicted, sentenced to death, and famously electrocuted at Sing Sing in 1928.

Phyllis: I’m a native Californian. Born right here in Los Angeles.
Walter: They say all native Californians come from Iowa.

Wilder wastes no time shifting things to the wild west, immediately establishing Los Angeles as the appropriate canvas upon which to paint this sinister and sleazy tale that starts at the end. In the film’s opening scenes paced by the urgency of Miklos Rozsa’s score a sedan speeds along a wet, dark street that could be 6th Street east of LaFayette Park past a crew of workmen identified by a sign reading “Los Angeles Railway Corp.” Speeding south in the next shot along Olive Street past Pershing Square and running a red light, the vehicle swerves, barely avoiding a collision with a westbound Los Angeles Examiner newspaper truck. Parking outside an unrecognizable downtown office building Neff emerges slowly from the car in serious physical pain that he tries with little success to hide from the doorman. Rozsa’s music descends gloomily as Neff ascends to his reckoning up to the 12th floor headquarters of the Pacific All Risk Insurance Company. Entering he stands momentarily before the dormant and dimly lighted secretarial pool a floor below him looking down into it like it’s his own personal pit of damnation before heading to his office where he had been an upright successful salesman before being consumed with lust and greed and turned into a cold-blooded killer by Stanwyck’s Dietrichson. He sits down at the company dictaphone and begins:

“Dear Keyes, I suppose you’ll call this a confession when you hear it… Well, I don’t like the word confession, I just want to set you right about something you couldn’t see because it was smack up against your nose. You think you’re such a hot potato as a claims manager; such a wolf on a phony claim… Maybe y’are. But let’s take a look at that Dietrichson claim… accident and double indemnity. You were pretty good in there for awhile Keyes… you said it wasn’t an accident, check. You said it wasn’t suicide, check. You said it was murder… check.”

— Walter Neff

A few other locations Wilder used throughout the greater Los Angeles area? Check:

• the Glendale train station
• the old Jerry’s Market once located in Los Feliz Village on Vermont near Franklin
• a Spanish-style house still at 6301 Quebec Drive in the Hollywood Hills off Beachwood Drive was used for the Dietrichson residence (mentioned as being in Glendale in the film), a duplicate of its interiors said to have been precisely recrafted on a Paramount Studios soundstage
• the apartment building that can be found at 1825 N. Kingsley Drive in Hollywood was used for exteriors of where Neff lived, though the shabby interiors were modeled at Paramount after an apartment at the Chateau Marmont that Wilder had once rented.

The film from Paramount was a sensation and not all in a good way. Its plot of a deliberate and brutal crime inspired by adultery and the promise of insurance money was considered by the righteous Hays Office to be innately amoral, objectionable and distasteful — coincidentally three ways to consider Los Angeles. Maybe it was to mollify the imperious censors that a purportedly gruesome execution scene at the end of the film was cut, in which Keyes watches Neff being led to the death chamber at San Quentin (perhaps done in homage to the real-life Snyder’s well-documented zapping). In its place came the decidedly less shocking (literally) ending.

“Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn’t get the money and I didn’t get the woman. Pretty, isn’t it?”

— Walter Neff

Double Indemnity didn’t get the Oscars either, receiving not one of the seven academy awards for which it had been nominated: best picture, best actress, best director, best screenplay, best black & white cinematography, best sound recording, and best score. It’s an equal shame that MacMurray was not nominated for best actor, nor Robinson for best supporting actor.

Being so summarily shunned by the academy has been attributed to an unwillingness of its members to embrace such a controversial, cynical and hard-boiled film during wartime (the light-hearted Going My Way was the big winner that year). But a lack of statuettes doesn’t take anything away from Double Indemnity being both one of the most influential examples of American film noir and one of the greatest films ever made.

Triviatime:

• Walter’s last name was originally “Ness,” but apparently there was a Beverly Hills resident at the time named Walter Ness who was also in insurance so Wilder changed it to “Neff.”
• Dick Powell lobbied hard for the role of Walter but was under contract at another studio who wouldn’t let him out of it.
• George Raft auditioned, but would only take the part if the script was written making Neff an FBI agent who entraps Phyllis. Oh that George…
• Wilder and Chandler are said to have come to detest each other during the process of writing the screenplay.
• Silver dust was mixed with some subtle smoke effects to create the illusion of waning sunlight in the Dietrichson house.
• The American Film Institute ranked this as the No. 29 Greatest Movie Of All Time.
• In the early 1970s Paramount planned a remake with Robert Redford as Walter. Oh that Paramount…

Noir Town — Other Los Angeles-based films of the genre (links are to those written about in this LA Metblogs series): Blade Runner (1982). Brother (2000), Chinatown (1974), Collateral (2004), The Crimson Kimono (1959), Criss Cross (1949), DOA (1950), Devil in a Blue Dress (1995), The Driver (1978), Farewell, My Lovely (1975), Gun Crazy (1959), Heat (1995), Hickey & Boggs (1972), Impulse (1990), In a Lonely Place (1950), Jackie Brown (1997), The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976), Kiss Me Deadly (1955), LA Confidential (1997), The Long Goodbye (1973), M (1952), Mildred Pierce (1945), Mulholland Drive (2001), Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1948), Pitfall (1948), Pulp Fiction (1994), Quicksand (1950), Shockproof (1949), Sunset Boulevard (1950), T-Men (1947), They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (1969), This Gun for Hire (1942), To Live and Die in LA (1985), Touch of Evil (1958), 2 Days in the Valley (1996), White Heat (1949).

Sources: AMC Filmsite, written and edited by Tim Dirks; IMDB; Wikipedia; LA Noir: The City As Character, written by Alain Silver and James Ursini; Conversations with Wilder, compiled and written by Cameron Crowe; Los Angeles Plays Itself, documentary by Thom Anderson.

If you were a space alien and you needed to learn about Los Angeles based on Valley of the Dolls and Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, you would conclude that drugs, stardom, parties, and boobs were the four corner stones of our culture. In fact, Jennifer, one of Neely’s best girlfriends, commits suicide when confronted with the prospect of a mastectomy, boobs being her most outstanding attribute, one might even argue, her skill set. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, being a Russ Meyer film, of course, exercises even greater reverence for a good rack. Meyer used to describe the perfect pair as “cantilevered.”

Honestly, Valley of the Dolls is not a terribly good movie; it is in fact, more terrible than good. The book, if also trashy, is more entertaining. It’s worth viewing in that sort of way you watch movies in the background while you fold laundry. But if you haven’t had the doubtful pleasure of seeing BOV, you should Netflix it for sure. For one thing, Roger Ebert wrote the film, which makes it’s delicious campiness even more fun. Life in Los Angeles according to BOV is one long self-destructive bender disguised as a party during which we all screw as many other people as possible–literally and figuratively.  And for another thing, in a turn of almost frightening narrative irony, Z-man, the decadent, over-sexed, “It’s my happening and I’m freaking out” tramp, who ultimately murders his own party guests is modeled after Phil Spector. Which brings us to the final truth about L.A. that both movies gesture at: Truth is definitely stranger than fiction here.