Pin-up icon Bettie Page died on December 11, 2008, at the ripe old age of 85. Although millions of fans recognize Bettie as Queen of the Pin-Ups since the mid-20th Century, few know the other facets of her life, from her many failed marriages to her time in a sanitarium to her love for the island of Haiti. Here, pop culture connoisseur and author Bruce Lewis details the fascinating story of America’s favorite pin-up.

Forever Bettie Page

By Bruce Lewis

Bondage queen. Sex goddess. Pin-up icon. All of these words could be used to describe Bettie Page, and all would be good choices, for she was all of those things. But she was much more, besides: a scholar, a Christian missionary, and the inspiration for a character in Star Wars. She was smart. She was notorious. She was scorching hot.

And she was 85 years of age when she slipped from this world on December 11, 2008, at Los Angeles’ Kindred Hospital.

Bettie Page was without doubt the face of American beauty during the second half of the 20th Century. Yes, there were others — Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn — but these were mostly movie stars, known worldwide from the films in which they appeared. Bettie Page didn’t need Hollywood to make her a goddess. All she needed were some black-and-white still photographs — more than 20,000 individual images, by some accounts — and a few crude film loops to make her a star. And while the Silver Screen starlets’ fame was pure product, cranked out in job lots by the global Hollywood hype machine, Bettie Page became famous with nothing but her charm, her will, and a few tiny advertisements in the back pages of a cheap magazine.

“We were lucky to get an orange in our Christmas stocking.”

It is 1933, and Bettie Page is walking barefoot to school. She is walking barefoot because her father has run away again — this time for good — leaving her mother to feed, clothe, and care for her and her five brothers and sisters. Bettie and one sister live in an orphanage now, but despite the cold and the lack of shoes and the bright pain of abandonment she feels every night, Bettie keeps walking, keeps putting one bare foot in front of the other, because she has made up her mind to graduate at the top of her class and go on to Vanderbilt. I’m not going to be barefoot forever, she says to herself. I’m going to college, and I’m going to get a job, and I’m going to be somebody.

Betty Mae Page was born into a family of eight in Nashville, Tennessee, on April 22, 1923. Her parents, Walter Roy Page and Edna Mae Pirtle, never could get it together. Walter Roy Page molested her when she was 13; after he went to jail for stealing a car, Edna Mae Page took two jobs and sent Betty and two sisters to an orphanage. There, the young Betty Page taught herself to sew and do makeup. Her natural intelligence began to emerge during her years at Hume-Fogg High School in Nashville, where she was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” by her classmates and graduated salutatorian of her class in June 1940, earning a scholarship to George Peabody College (now part of Vanderbilt University). She gradated from Peabody four years later.

That’s right — Bettie Page had a degree: Bachelor of Arts, 1944. She also had a husband when she graduated, an old school flame named Billy Neal. But there was a war on, and Billy Neal found himself drafted into the Navy, so Betty Mae ended up following him around for a while, eventually landing in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, which at the time was still a more-or-less civilized country. She loved the island, but couldn’t stay. Nor could she stay married to Billy Neal. They divorced in November 1947.

“From the first time I posed nude, I wasn’t embarrassed.”

It’s 1950, and Betty Mae Page is walking along the strand at Coney Island. She’s been all over and done a lot since her divorce: a little modeling of furs here, a little secretarial work in San Francisco there, even a screen test at Fox (which went nowhere due to her refusal to spend casting couch time with an older executive). Bill Neal had come home, and they’d tried to make it work, but after the miscarriage they had parted for good. Betty is working as a secretary now, typing all day in an office, spending her free time walking on the beach. Jerry Tibbs, a police officer and amateur photographer, is there, too. He raises his camera to capture the winsome 27-year-old’s image, and with a click of a shutter, the career of Betty Page ends, and the legendary Bettie Page is born.

“You ought to be a model”, he says, handing her his card. “I could make a portfolio for you.”

Bettie Page began her career as a glamour photography model, posing in lingerie for the various “camera clubs” that thrived in New York at the time. These clubs were less about f-stops and exposure timing and more about generating “pin-ups” — erotic but non-pornographic images of pretty girls in titillating garments and poses that were de rigueur among young, healthy male Americans in those pre-Playboy days. Bettie (as she was now known) was a pin-up natural, her combination of girl-next-door approachability and curvaceous sensuality tailor-made for the eyes of a worldly-wise but still essentially small-town male America.

By 1951, Bettie’s image graced the pages of men’s magazines everywhere; by 1952 she was the best-known pin-up in the world, thanks in large part to her partnership with bookstore owner and pin-up photographer Irving Klaw. Klaw specialized in cheesecake — saucy but essentially harmless turn-on photography featuring smiling cutie-pies in skimpy outfits, images of a type common in men’s magazines (and even in some mainstream press) of the day. Klaw’s photos and “specialty” films often showed Bettie and other women clad in kinky outfits, pretending to participate in bondage, spanking, and other acts of outlaw sexuality — yet, all were curiously chaste by modern standards. Irving Klaw catered to his clients’ tastes, but he was not a pornographer; his all-female films and stills might have been designed to thrill, but they never depicted nudity or contained explicit sexual content. Bettie would not have consented to appear nude or engaging in sexual activity in any case; beneath the curves and the silk dominatrix gear she remained the same small-town Tennessee girl she’d always been.

But she was becoming so much more. In 1953, Page resumed her dream of becoming an actress, taking classes at the renowned Herbert Berghoff Studios and making her first stage and television appearances, including some off-Broadway work and a memorable one-shot on the top-rated Jackie Gleason Show. Her first speaking part in a feature-length film came in the burlesque Striporama (the only time Page is known to have spoken on camera); two burlesque films by Irving Klaw (Teaserama and Varietease, followed. It is from these latter two films that Page is best known by her later generations of fans.

In 1954 Page met photographer and former fashion model Bunny Yeager.  Yeager’s subsequent photographs of Bettie in a home-made jungle girl getup — the now-famous “Jungle Bettie” set — catapulted Page to the big leagues. Based on these images, Hugh Hefner himself picked Page to be Playmate of the Month for January 1955. The photo shows a beautiful and buxom Bettie Page, kneeling topless in front of a small Christmas tree, a wink beneath her bangs and Santa hat. She was 31 years old, and at the pinnacle of her career.

“All of a sudden I felt a hand in mine, leading me across the street to a small church…”

It is Christmas 1957, and Bettie Page is sitting in a southbound train car, headed for Florida. Her career as a pin-up model is over. Irving Klaw has been destroyed, dragged before the Congressional obscenity hearings convened by crusading Senator Estes Kefauver (D-Tenn.) in the Senator’s crusade to smash the pin-up business as he had the comic book industry several years before. Klaw is still around, of course (he won’t die for another ten years yet), but the business he created has been reduced to a mere shadow of its former glory, and Klaw has fed the negatives of Bettie’s catalog of images into the fire.

And Bettie has gotten the message as well. The FBI boys were never rude or threatening, of course — Mr. Hoover would never have permitted such unprofessional behavior from his men — but the subpoena with her name on it, and the 16 hours she’d spent in claustrophobic room in the Capitol of the United States waiting to testify, were clear enough. She’d never been called before the committee, as it turned out, but Bettie Page was no fool. She got out. Her career as a pin-up idol is over.

Two years pass, and Bettie walks into a small church in Key West. Soon after, she severs all contact with her prior life, and disappears.

“I wish I could erase the years from 1979 to 1992…”

It is June, 1982, and Bettie Page is sitting in a California courtroom. She has 22 years, three marriages, and one trial for assault with a deadly weapon (1980, not guilty by reason of acute schizophrenia) behind her. Now, Bettie is on trial once again, this time for attempted murder. The victim, Leonie Haddad, is an elderly woman. Bettie had been her tenant when, for no reason anyone could see, Bettie had attacked her with a knife, severing Haddad’s finger. The judge is speaking now: “This court finds the defendant to be not guilty by reason of insanity. Due to the danger she poses to others, she is hereby sentenced to ten years at Patton State Hospital, sentence to begin forthwith.”

The gavel bangs. Chairs honk against the waxed floor as the Court stands adjourned. Bettie Page is carried away kicking and screaming to her second stint in the nuthouse.

But this is not the end of the Bettie Page story, because time, therapy, and a very good God smiled on her. Ten years later, Bettie emerged from Patton State well and healthy, her insanity in remission thanks to conscientious care, her own iron will, and many hours of prayer. At 70, she moved into a Los Angeles group home to live out her remaining years in obscurity — “penniless and infamous,” as she put it.

Penniless she was — although not for much longer; infamous she most definitely was not. For during her 30 years of divorce and despair, madness and mystery, Bettie Page’s images — the very images that had made her a pariah so long before — had transformed her into a superstar. And she had no idea.

When TV host Robin Leach came calling in 1993 to interview her for Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, Page was utterly unaware of the resurgence of her popularity. Entertainment Tonight arrived next to shoot a segment. When it aired, Page watched dumbfounded from her chair at the group home. It was only then that Page superfan Greg Theakston, whose fanzine The Betty Pages had kickstarted the Bettie craze of the 1980s, became aware that his longtime idol was yet alive. With glee, Theakston introduced a stunned Bettie Page to the universe of comic books, illustration portfolios, fine art prints, and film characters based upon her image.

And happy days were here again for Bettie Page. Newfound fame, fortune and fans followed as Bettie emerged from three decades of obscurity. The money began to flow to Bettie again, courtesy of a professional public relations firm whose owner was a longtime Bettie fan with a genuine concern for her welfare. An authorized biography was published in the late 1990s; two films about her life came next. Even the Klaw family and Bunny Yeager came to benefit from Bettiemania.

And she is not ashamed. “I never thought it was shameful,” she told “The Playboy Interview” in 1998.  I felt normal. It’s just that it [modeling] was much better than pounding a typewriter eight hours a day, which gets monotonous.”

At last, Bettie Page’s childhood dream had come true. The barefoot Tennessee schoolgirl had come a long way, but she’d made it. At last, Betty Mae Page was the one, the only, Bettie Page: Queen of the Pin-ups, icon, goddess. She was, as she had promised herself so long ago, somebody.

“Unforgettable…”

It is 2003. Bettie Page is 80 years old — and here she is again, posing for the August 2003 edition of Playboy. This time, however, there are no whips, no gags, no silky lingerie. Bettie will no more stand for such things now than she would have stood for full nudity in 1953. Today, she wears a simple plaid shirt and ordinary street dress. She is, in many ways, a very ordinary elderly woman. Yet make no mistake: Bettie Page is far from ordinary, even in her golden years. She remains eminently photographable. The beauty is still there — the same bangs, the same pageboy (now silver gray), the same naughty eyes, and the same heart-melting smile. Hef does not make mistakes in this area; his onetime Playmate of the Month is still very much a scorching hot babe — the kind of older woman that earns sheepish second glances from the teenage boys at the mall. Yes, she’s put on some weight. Yes, it’s hard for her to get up and down these days. But, Bettie Page is still the Queen of the Pin-Ups.

And it is the Queen of the Pin-Ups that the world mourns today, 85 years and eight months after Betty Mae Page came into this world. She leaves us as she came to us: forever smart, forever notorious, forever scorching hot — forever the incomparable, unforgettable Bettie Page.

Bruce Lewis is an American voice actor, writer, artist, and author. He has worked in the U.S. manga and anime industry since 1993, and his book Draw Manga: How To Draw Manga In Your Own Unique Style, is an Amazon.com Bestseller.

Keely Smith, a musical sensation since the Rat Pack era, is still going strong. Dovetailing with her latest album, a tribute to her late husband and musical partner Louis Prima, Smith is heading out on tour with the U.K.’s top swing combo, the Jive Aces, bringing classic Vegas swing to generations of music lovers!

By Bruce Lewis

The world of jazz, jive, and swing just got dealt a flush hand — a queen and six aces! Keely Smith, the “Queen of Las Vegas” and one of the living legends of Rat Pack swing, has joined her voice with Britain’s number one jive and swing band The Jive Aces for a summer tour of the UK and Europe. Also on board for the tour is special guest Toni Elizabeth Prima, daughter of Keely and legendary bandleader Louis Prima and a rising belter in her own right. Together, Keely, Toni and the Aces form an eightsome of greatsome that’s guaranteed to put an extra olive in your dry Martini!

Of all the stage stars of Rat Pack-era Vegas, Keely Smith has remained perhaps the most constant. Although she is possibly best known for her partnership with Louis Prima — with whom she helped turn Las Vegas from a desert outpost into as oasis of ’60s swank — Smith’s 50-year career in the variety biz has included team-ups with the biggest names in song, including Frank Sinatra, conductor/arranger Nelson Riddle and jazz giant Count Basie.

Swingin’ Since Childhood

It all started for Keely Smith in Norfolk, Virginia, and her appearances on a locally-produced Saturday morning children’s radio show called “Joe Brown’s Radio Gang.” Although only 11 years old at the time, her clear ear and mature singing style caught the attention of local producers; by the time she turned 16, Smith was on stage singing and swinging with the local big bands for the entertainment of the mobs of soldiers, sailors, and Marines that had crowded into the city during the war.

A chance opportunity to audition for swing star Louis Prima in Virginia Beach in 1948 led to Smith touring (under chaperone, of course!) with Prima’s big band. Five years later, a now-adult Keely Smith and Prima were married with a baby on the way — leading the two to take their act to Las Vegas, then a mere seedling of a city.

It was a gutsy move. Las Vegas in 1953 had only one paved street (the Strip, of course). Nevertheless, Prima and Smith fired up the swing and took the town by storm, and an initial two- week gig at Sahara’s Casbar Lounge soon turned into a Vegas institution. The duo snagged a Billboard hit (#18) and a Grammy in ’58 with their cover of Arlen/Mercer’s “That Old Black Magic”, and by 1959, they were the hottest show in town, filling the seats at the Sahara with a celebrity audience every night.

Tackling TV and Film

TV was next. Hailed as the “King and Queen of Las Vegas” by the variety press, the pair were introduced to television audiences as “the greatest nightclub act in the country” by songstress Dinah Shore on her popular show.

Then, Keely Smith and Louis Prima hit the big screen:  Smith sang “Whippoorwill” in 1958s Robert Mitchum vehicle Thunder Road, and in ’59’s wild musical romp Hey Boy! Hey Girl! she appeared singing “Fever”.

Her fame now boosted by being a screen star, Capitol Records signed Keely to a solo contract. She then went on to sing a string of solo hits in the late 1950s.

The fairytale ended in 1961, when Smith divorced Prima and left Capitol, as well. After moving to Sinatra’s pet, Reprise Records, Smith joined up with the Chairman’s best-down conducting and arranging partner, Nelson Riddle, to bust the UK Top 20 in 1965 with an album of Beatles songs arranged just for her.

A Revival in the ’90s

By then, however, Keely Smith was ready for a change. With the domination of the pop charts by the rock sound, Smith decided to settle down. A romance with producer Jimmy Bowen led to marriage, and by the late ’60s Smith had retired from music to concentrate on raising her children. Aside from a few television guest spots, Smith was out of show business by the end of the ’60s.

Her comeback came in 1980, when director Martin Scorsese featured Keely singing “I Ain’t Got Nobody” in his hit film Raging Bull. This led to singing spots in 1993’s Mad Dog and Glory, 1994’s baseball biopic Cobb, and 1995’s Destiny Turns on the Radio and Casino. Her career really began to take off with the release of Staley Tucci’s 1996 gem Big Night, a ’50s period piece, the plot of which centered on an appearance of Prima and Smith (Keely sang “Love of My Life/O Sole Mio” and  “Don’t Take Your Love from Me” on the soundtrack). Since then, Keely has regularly appeared on stage and screen, including a memorable performance of “Mood Indigo” in a 2007 episode of HBO’s The Sopranos.

And the Beat Goes On

Keely Smith is still belting them out today: her latest album, Vegas ’58 – Today, is a compilation of her best known songs, recorded live as her homage to the late Louis Prima. Now a best-selling Concord Records artist, the 70-something Keely Smith continues her reign as the undisputed queen of the Las Vegas-style swing scene.

And now, a new chapter in the Keely Smith saga has begun with her collaboration with the Jive Aces. Famous as the UK’s top jive and swing band, the Jive Aces are hard-put to keep up with global demand for their unique song stylings -– the sextet racks up more than 300 shows in 25 countries annually, plus hundreds of appearances on TV and radio shows.

Drawn together by their love for hot jive and big band swing, these non-moptopped lads from London — Ian Clarkson (vocals and trumpet), Ken Smith (double bass), Vince Hurley (piano), Peter Howell (drums), John Fordham (saxophone), and Alex Douglas (trombone) -– cite influences as diverse as Elvis, Frank Sinatra, and (of course) Louis Prima as the basis for their beat. Famous on the late-’80s London local scene as swing dancers, the Aces soon found it difficult to find enough hot bands to keep their fingers snappin’ and toes tappin’, so they decided to go into the music biz themselves.

Their live premiere in Paris in January, 1989 was a blowout, and soon word of the Jive Aces’ foot-stomping, Fifties-style floorshow spread across Europe and thence around the world. The Aces hit America in 1996 with their gig at the Olympic Games in Atlanta, and they continue to tour and record in the States today.

Catch the Jive Aces and Keely Smith — the hottest hand in swing today — performing live on Valentine’s Day 2009 at the McCallum Theatre in Palm Desert, CA. And, be sure to check the Jive Aces’ gig guide for more information on upcoming shows with Keely Smith throughout summer 2009.

SPECIAL UPDATE: Keely Smith made a surprise cameo during an appearance by The Jive Aces  on BBC’s The Evening Show!

Bruce Lewis is an American voice actor, writer, artist, and author. He has worked in the U.S. manga and anime industry since 1993, and his book Draw Manga: How To Draw Manga In Your Own Unique Style, is an Amazon.com Bestseller.

BACK TO THE RETRO FUTURE: PART 2
Yesteryear’s Movies of Tomorrow
By Will “The Thrill” Viharo

In this second installment of our three-part series, B-movie conoisseur Will Viharo ventures into the vaults of vintage sci-fi cinema to highlight the best in classic spaceship celluloid. This isn’t just a lesson in cinematic history, it’s a look deep into the collective American psyche in the mid-20th century. Ready for more? Then pour yourself a refreshing glass of traggle nectar, lean back, and enjoy the continuing journey into uncharted realms known only to diehard science fiction fans.

“PIE PLATES OF PERIL”: EARTH VS. THE FLYING SAUCERS (1956)

Fear of an invasion from outer space, spurred by vague but frequent UFO sightings and whispered conspiracies, was as palpable among the panicky population of the ’50s as worry over a nuclear standoff with Russia. And, filmmakers were quick to cash in on this terror-stricken trend. Special effects guru Ray Harryhausen is better known these days for sword-and-sorcery swashbucklers like The 7th Voyage of Sinbad and Jason and the Argonauts, but in the black & white days of the ’50s, his specialty was devising methods for the destruction of various cities, including their most famous landmarks. In Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (1953), the first feature film for which he created all the special effects, the prehistoric Rhedosaurus rampages through New York; in It Came From Beneath (1955) a giant octopus ravages San Francisco; in 20,000 Miles to Earth (1957) a Venusian monster called an Ymir makes his last stand on the Coliseum in Rome.

But for Earth vs. The Flying Saucers, Ray’s 1956 alien invaders masterpiece, the creative juggernaut devised ingenious flying saucers that became the most memorable—and mimicked—of all interstellar invasion vehicles (copied outright in Tim Burton’s outrageous 1996 send-up, Mars Attacks). Keeping pace with Ray’s other displays of urban destruction, and taking a cue from Day the Earth Stood Still, the invaders also trash our nation’s capital, but with much more malevolent force than the diplomatic Klaatu: the Washington Monument is totally toppled in the assault!

Also see: George Pal’s seminal and influential classic War of the Worlds (1953), based on the H.G. Wells novel but more inspired by Orson Welles’ infamous radio play, which caused real life panic during its 1938 broadcast; AIP’s drive-in classic Invasion of the Saucer Men (1957) featuring Frank Gorshin and a gang of Paul Blaisdell’s bulbous-headed, cat-eyed, alcohol-clawed space monsters, but only one sad little saucer; Howard Hawks’ The Thing From Another World (1951), the crowd-pleasing classic about a hostile alien veggie-monster-man (James Arness) who crash lands his saucer near the North Pole and proceeds to terrorize a scientific expedition; and The Mysterians (1957), Toho’s entry in the space invader race, as evil aliens armed with a bird-like giant robot named Mogera lay waste to Japan, as if resident giant monsters Godzilla and Rodan weren’t doing their job properly.

“ROBOTS ‘R’ US”: FORBIDDEN PLANET (1956)

While many of us want our jetpacks, the homemakers among us yearn for another un-kept promise from the architects of yesteryear: the robot maid. Postwar visionaries often pitched the home of the future as a modern oasis replete with automatic devices, self-sufficient resources and plenty of intelligent mechanisms to aid our leisure. As of this writing in the futuristic year of 2004, they’re still working on ‘em. But, perhaps the most legendary embodiment of this technological Utopia was Robby the Robot, the inhuman star of Forbidden Planet, an interstellar re-imagining of Shakespeare’s The Tempest that is arguably the most famous and beloved of all ’50s sci-fi movies.

Robots had been popular in sci-fi literature and pop culture for decades already, but with all the advances made in technology since WW2, people began to actually expect a race of robots to one day serve humankind. Nowadays, robotic humans are regularly seen in political circles or reporting the news, and Arnold’s Terminator is the current standard for our mechanical doppelgangers. But Robby remains the robot for the ages: boundlessly smart, eloquently personable, magically resourceful, and incredibly cool. Only the Robot on the Lost in Space TV series can compete with Robby’s pop cultural standing (and in fact they once teamed up in an episode).

Forbidden Planet is itself a marvel–the vividly colorful sets and costumes of the crew (led by Leslie Nielsen, long before he realized how funny he could be) and the philosophical underpinnings (including a giant invisible monster spawned by the Freudian “Id”) set it apart from its many imitators and descendents. It also boasts the premiere all-electronic score, by Louis and Bebe Barron. Word of a remake has been circulating for some time, but the fact is, only the innocent imagination of mid-century dreamers could create such a warm, vibrant and relevant masterpiece. Though set in a future where interplanetary space travel is the norm, it’s a time capsule treasure of and from the past. Leave it alone.

Also see: Robby’s return in The Invisible Boy (1957); another children’s robot classic, Tobor the Great (1954); and a more menacing metal man in Herman Cohen’s Target Earth (1954).

“SWINGIN’ AMONG THE STARS”: QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE (1958)

This was a plot peculiar to the 1950s: a group or horny frat-boy astronauts, including at least one wisecracking sidekick from Brooklyn or someplace like it, sometimes with a pet monkey, land on another planet and encounter a race of Amazonian women wearing high heels, short skirts, thick mascara, red lipstick, and uptight attitudes supposedly caused by years of forced virginity due to the death/disappearance/unexplained absence of all males in their society. Fortunately for the guys, none of the women are lesbians, and after the requisite fights with the local giant spider puppets and whatnot, the mating process begins.

Of course this is the straight male’s wet dream come true, and it came true several times throughout the decade, reaching its zenith in Queen of Outer Space, starring Zsa Zsa Gabor (though she does not play the titular monarch). This wide-screen Deluxe color cult classic is one of the funniest movies ever made, and rumor has it the camp was intentional, years before that became the fashion, so in effect this was the earliest film to spoof its own genre (like much later efforts such as John Landis’ Amazon Women on the Moon). The script was allegedly developed from an idea by the legendary screenwriter Ben Hecht, though no one has ever really substantiated this rumor, especially not Hecht, who probably talked too loud while drunk one night at an industry shindig, hitting on the local talent. This concept was ubiquitous enough, though, so we’ll let Ben off the hook. If there is a cure for humorless political correctness, this is it.

Also see: the sexist 3D thrills of Cat Women of the Moon (1953), and its remake(!), Missile to the Moon (1958); the oddly titled Abbott and Costello Go To Mars (1953), in which Bud and Lou go to Venus and find a bevy of beauty pageant contestants; and Fire Maidens of Outer Space (1956), in which the Brits prove they’re as randy (and as willing to travel for it) as us raunchy All-Americans.

There’s lots more to come, readers. Stay tuned for Part Three of
Will Viharo’s sci-fi cinematic escapades!

Beatnik lounge lizard and writer Will “the Thrill” Viharo and his wife, Monica “the Tiki Goddess,” host a live cult movie cabaret called “Thrillville” at the Cerrito Speakeasy Theater in El Cerrito, CA. Will also has a B-movie tiki lounge at home, where he watches his DVD collection while drinking homemade Mai Tais (which may have influenced these reviews somewhat).

BACK TO THE RETRO FUTURE: PART 1
Yesteryear’s Movies of Tomorrow
By Will “The Thrill” Viharo

In the first of this three-part series, B-movie conoisseur Will Viharo ventures into the vaults of vintage sci-fi cinema to highlight the best in classic spaceship celluloid . This isn’t just a lesson in cinematic history, it’s a look deep into the collective American psyche in the mid-20th century. So, pour yourself a tumbler of rocket fuel, kick back, and get ready to blast off into uncharted realms known only to diehard science fiction fans.

Many of us poor Earthlings stuck here in the dawn of the terror-stricken, economically challenging, morally complex, gas-guzzling 21st Century wonder one simple thing: Where are our personal jet-packs promised by The Jetsons back in the early 1960s?

Today’s sci-fi blockbusters are decidedly more pessimistic than the space-age films of yore. Beginning with cynical cyber-punk classics like Blade Runner (1982), modern science fiction movies invariably depict dreary, dystopian futures for our species, full of screeching sound, smoke and steel. (See also: Mad Max, Matrix, Alien and Terminator franchises, and the more recent I, Robot.) Even relatively optimistic options offered by the sundry Star Trek spin-offs or the Star Wars movies are noisy, busy and, by certain standards, downright ugly. As they say, the future is not what it used to be.

Perhaps this accounts for the current, rampant nostalgia for mid-20th Century pop culture—people of this real “future” are now longing for the pretty past that placed much more faith in us than we do ourselves. The hopes and dreams this nation had for its own technological and cultural evolution following the euphoria of the prosperous 1950s was slowly and systematically shattered by the revolutionary ’60s. The assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, as well as the rebellion of the counterculture, and the angry ascent of rock ‘n’ roll, destroyed the collective aspirations of an entire generation by the finale of this tumultuous decade—which, ironically, also ended with the first moon-landing, in 1969. Although many positive changes resulted from this massive upheaval, mainly in the arena of civil rights, a certain idealism and innocence was tragically lost in the explosive exchange. By the beginning of the 1980s, the country was riveted by Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, not the steps taken by our brave astronauts. Goodbye, Jetsons; hello, Joan Jett.

ROCKETS, ROBOTS & RAYS OF HOPE

Nowhere is the post-WW2 generation’s faith in (and fears of) the future more evident than in the science fiction movies of the 1950s and early ’60s, which often and ironically contradicted the public’s real fears that we’d blow ourselves up any minute and there’d be no future at all. Still, filmmakers dared to dream for the masses. For the purpose of illustrating these reveries, I’ve compiled a list of movies I strongly recommend for your homebound blast to the past. All of these titles are available either on DVD or VHS; some are still occasionally shown on late night cable TV (including re-runs of Mystery Science Theater 3000). I’ve broken them down into eclectic, and rather eccentric, categories, leading off with my own personal favorite of the bunch. But be forewarned: my tastes tend toward the pulpy end of the spectrum. I’ve also provided alternate choices from the A, B and Z lists as well.

This list leaves out obvious ’50s sci-fi categories like Big Bugs (Them!, Tarantula, The Deadly Mantis) or Red Scare Alien Possession (Invasion of the Body Snatchers, It Came From Outer Space, It Conquered the World), focusing more on films that represent the mid-century man’s dreams, and nightmares, regarding The Future, be it In Space, From Space, or right here on “Terror” Firma. Most of these films contain the popular iconography associated with this genre—rocket ships, robots, ray guns—and represent a fairly comprehensive cross-section of sub-genres, commonly bonded with that essential B movie ingredient: Cheese. Welcome to the interstellar cocktail lounge of the Space Age imagination.

“FIRE UP THOSE RETRO-ROCKETS”: DESTINATION MOON (1950)

During the most xenophobic era in modern American history, rife with communist witch-hunts, racial prejudice, and social malaise, many Americans dreamed of a better world “Out There”. George Pal, who by now had established himself as a special effects wizard due to his innovative, award-winning “Puppetoon” animation shorts, was the first filmmaker to successfully capture these starry-eyed ambitions on celluloid. This film, though slow-paced, is a graceful (albeit naturally cornball) little masterwork of style and creativity, also considered to be scientifically sound at the time. While dated, this film is worth seeing because of its historical significance as prototypical space exploration cinema.

Also see: Rocketship XM (1950), rushed into release when it was learned Destination Moon was in production, making it the first official “rocketship” movie, complete with a little theremin on the soundtrack; Cameron Mitchell and Arthur Franz take a very early, and colorful, Flight to Mars (1951), using spacesuits left over from Destination Moon;and Pal’s next excursion into planetary orbit, the more ambitious but less successful Conquest of Space (1955).

“ALIENS ARE PEOPLE, TOO”: THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL (1951) and THIS ISLAND EARTH (1955)

It’s astounding that right in the middle of a conservative era dominated by militant American chest-thumping, a film with a liberal anti-war message could even get made, much less become a hit. But Robert Wise’s sci-fi masterpiece The Day the Earth Stood Still not only went down in Hollywood history as one of the most sophisticated, exciting and intelligent sci-fi movies ever made, it was also a popular favorite with audiences across all demographics, making it the first big sci-fi “blockbuster.” It also boasted the first major sci-fi soundtrack to fully employ a theremin, composed by the great Bernard Hermann, setting a B movie trend that would last for over a decade (though non-monster movies The Lost Weekend and Spellbound were the very first to use this eerie instrument in their scores).

Day’s iconic imagery—the giant robot Gort emerging from the immense flying saucer on the White House Lawn, led by interstellar ambassador Klaatu, played by Michael Rennie—is both an emblem of classic sci-fi cinema and a symbol of peace during an uncertain, unsteady era. Of course, the actual message from space was a bit more blunt: Earth’s nations either learn to get along or they will be obliterated by an inter-galactic police force, before our volatile inclinations can infect the rest of the apparently peace-loving universe.

Another equally emblematic alien of the era was the big-brained Metaluna Mutant from This Island Earth, Universal’s official entry in the epic outer space sweepstakes. This classic popcorn movie, while not quite in the league of its classy predecessor, opting for cheap thrills over political subtext, also featured an alien ambassador. The visitor, Exeter (played by genre regular Jeff Morrow), whose intentions are at first sinister, is finally revealed as noble only after he has abducted two hapless Earthlings (fellow genre stalwarts Rex Reason and Faith Domergue) to his doomed planet. The Technicolor production still stuns with imaginative visuals, and its soundtrack music, including cues by Henry Mancini, is equally essential. This Island Earth’s “interocitor” machine became as famous amongst ’50s fantasy film fans as the ultimate quote from Day the Earth Stood Still: “Klaatu barada nikto.”

Also see: Edgar C. Ulmer’s moody, sympathetic portrait of The Man From Planet X (1951) ; the bargain basement one-set wonder The Astounding She Monster (1958), with Robert C. Clarke, gangsters and a voluptuous visitor from beyond the stars; the atmospheric British chiller Devil Girl From Mars (1954), whose sexy space-travelling siren also sports her own imposing robot enforcer; and Teenagers From Outer Space (1958), which proved that juvenile delinquency had truly spread to all corners of the galaxy and the most insidious enemy was already among us.

There’s more celluloid magic in store, readers.
Check out Part Two of Will Viharo’s sci-fi cinematic escapades!

Beatnik lounge lizard and writer Will “the Thrill” Viharo and his wife, Monica “the Tiki Goddess,” host a live cult movie cabaret called “Thrillville” at the Cerrito Speakeasy Theater in El Cerrito, CA. Will also has a B-movie tiki lounge at home, where he watches his DVD collection while drinking homemade Mai Tais, the effects of which may have influenced these reviews somewhat.

Built of Stone
Review by Frankie Hagan

Performers have to be made of pretty sturdy stuff to endure the rigors and trials of the music industry. Thankfully, the Cigar Store Indians and their special brand of swingin’ rock ‘n’ roll, country western ballads and rockabilly riffs have stood the test of time.

The band has been long overdue in releasing a new album, and they do not disappoint their fans with their latest CD, Built of Stone (Overall Records). Two major changes separate this record from CSI’s previous two releases: The line-up has shifted slightly with the departure of Jim Lavender, known for a rockabilly-surf sound, to include the more traditional rock ‘n’ roll of new lead guitarist Jeff Sprayberry. Additionally, the tempo of these recordings is more subdued than El Baile De la Cobra, a CD known for fast-rocking swing tracks, and the songs on Built of Stone explore new directions.

The album’s opener “Hit Me” is a pleasing, fast-paced, energetic single, as would be expected from this group. But it is followed by a trio of reflective love-inspired tracks, highlighted in the glorious standout, “Other Side Of The Pillow,” which shows Ben Friedman’s excellence as a songwriter and is this reviewer’s pick for a great new western-styled swing. With the hard-rocking “Copycat Season,” the band subtly asks not to be pigeon-holed as they seek out new avenues of experimentation, growth and change.

Many of the tracks are reflective, from the misty “Ballerina Dressed in Black” to the album’s closer, “Nothing Else Matters.” “Blue Mountain Girl” is an interesting departure into hillbilly romance, while “Weight of the World,” a well-written, rockin’ number with a catchy riff, shows off the new lead guitarist. Overall, the skillful musicianship of band mainstays, like bassist Keith Perissi, drummer Paul Barrie, and lead singer and rhythm guitarist Ben Friedman, shows that the Cigar Store Indians are made of durable material, indeed.

Enjoyed this review? Click here for Frankie Hagan’s write-up on the film soundtrack to De-Lovely.

Boy from Tupelo
Review by Frankie Hagan

It must have seemed like such a small thing, then: a young boy arriving at 706 Union Avenue in Memphis in 1953. He paid $3.98 to make a “custom record” and, as a special bonus, change the course of music history. That young man was Elvis Presley, and his impact on popular culture has spanned half a century. To coincide with the 50th anniversary of the recording of Elvis’ first single, “That’s All Right”–a moment some music historians refer to as the birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll–HEAR Music and BMG Special Products have released 15 Elvis classics on Boy From Tupelo.

It would be difficult for any Elvis collection to follow the recent #1 and #2 Hits albums, which included two “new releases” that achieved additional posthumous success for the King. But this compilation wants to make a different statement, about how the music itself was something special. Boy From Tupelo represents the talent and innovation that made Elvis go from being a white trash kid cutting a record for his mama to the biggest thing 20th century music would ever see. The tracks presented on this collection–in particular “That’s All Right,” “Blue Moon of Kentucky” and “Lawdy Miss Clawdy”–are about the synergy of styles that Elvis created by merging Country Western and the so called “black” music he knew so well from his roots. His was a new sound that would be the forerunner and champion for Rockabilly and Rock ‘n’ Roll.

The excitement of “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Good Rockin’ Tonight” seems obvious today, but it’s amusing to consider that at their recording, the sound Elvis was making defied classification. These songs and other standouts, like “Baby Let’s Play House” and “So Glad You’re Mine,” demanded more than the simple words a review might offer in praise or criticism, and are just as engaging today.

The music on Tupelo would be a credit to itself, even without the 20-page booklet of liner notes and early Elvis pictures. Suffice it to say, this may not be the flashiest of collections, with the largest array of hits, but it is easily one of the most significant. In a world where shows like American Idol manufacture stars in front of millions of people in their living rooms, it is important to reflect on the raw conditions that created one of the brightest stars of them all. Elvis’ humble beginnings and enduring legacy give credence to the adage that kings are born, not made.

Can’t get enough of the King? Click here to read Will “the Thrill” Viharo’s reviews of two new Elvis releases on DVD.

In Spy-Fi
Review by Will “The Thrill” Viharo

Every once in a while a band like the Metrolites–and there aren’t very many–comes along to remind you how good life can be. This swingin’ lounge combo from Iowa create a sonic tonic for your shattered modern nerves with their smooth but rockin’ cocktail mix of spy, monster and exotic sounds.

Percussionist/vocalist/theramin player Scott Morschhauser wrote most of the original tunes on the group’s debut CD, In Spy-Fi (Go Go Golem Records), including several versions of their theme, “The Man from M.E.T.R.O.” He also co-wrote with guitar goddess Kathleen Gallagher my favorite track, “Gunfight at the Zombie Mineshaft,” an ultra-cool instrumental conjuring images of a cinematic meeting between Sergio Leone and George Romero. “Cyclops Optometrist” is another standout on an album with nothing but winners.

They also offer a faithfully frenetic version of Burt Bacharach’s “The Blob,” but most of the CD is comprised of the band’s own numbers, hip B-movie hi-fi hybrids, like “Land of the Giants,” “The Abominable Dr. Vibes,” and socially conscious gems, such as “Middle Class Hell” and “TV Drugs,” proving their passions aren’t all pop culture stimulated. Employing sax, bongos, theremin, vibes and more in a unique yet classic context. The Metrolites now rival The Moon-Rays as the premiere Midwest Lounge Band. But this is like comparing the Stones to the Beatles. Plenty of room for both in a world gone mad.

Beatnik lounge lizard and writer Will “the Thrill” Viharo and his wife, Monica “the Tiki Goddess,” host a live cult movie cabaret called “Thrillville” at the Cerrito Speakeasy Theater in El Cerrito, CA. At home, he relaxes to groovy Vegas lounge, exotica, and heavy doses of Elvis while drinking homemade Mai Tais (which may have influenced these reviews somewhat).

Christmas Songs by Sinatra
Review by Frankie Hagan

Before he was the Chairman of the Board and made the words cool and swingin’ synonymous with himself, Frank Sinatra was a skinny young singer attempting to follow in the footsteps of his personal heroes, like Bing Crosby. Newly signed to Columbia Records, he was yet to have his fall from popularity and his return to prominence, or to attain his eternal hepcat status at the centerpiece of the Rat Pack. Christmas Songs by Sinatra, newly re-released for the holidays by Sony Records, collects all of the smooth yuletide standards recorded by the young king of croon during this Columbia period.

The album celebrates the great Christian holiday standards of yore, from “Jingle Bells” to “Joy to the World,” and includes previously unreleased alternate takes of lovely classics, like “White Christmas,” and “Silent Night, Holy Night.” Don’t be shocked, or even mildly surprised, by the fact that this disc never really swings–this would be the wrong recording period for that kind of originality in Sinatra’s Yuletide cheer. But, if you love a traditional lilt to your Christmas music, this is the collection for you.

The liner notes in the accompanying booklet are excellent, relating the history of the recordings and giving their appropriate release time stamp–a real treat for music aficionados. As a whole, this album allows the listener to chart the growth of a singer, and honestly enjoy some great music.

Intoxicating Sounds
Review by Frankie Hagan

The beauty of the instrumental is that there are no words. Think about that: no words. Without verbal binding to the music, mood is allowed to prevail. Mood, idea, emotion, and ambiance. And then reflection. That’s the genius of the Martini Kings and their new release, Intoxicating Sounds (SwingOMatic Records).

The Martini Kings have been a well-used cocktail band in California for some time, dispensing retro classics from the ’40s to the ’60s. Though the music is great background fodder, don’t be fooled: This is a marketable dance album for a number of rhythms.

As you imbibe the proffered tracks, you can almost picture yourself sitting at the corner table tracing the rim of your glass with a finger and lost in thought. It just doesn’t get any more reflective. The sublime sounds are generated by vibes, bass and drums (with a bit of guitar and sax). The opening track, “Bags and Trane,” is lovely smooth lindy or foxtrot material, whereas “The Days Of Wine And Roses” is an ethereal slow mambo or fast rumba (or a bossa nova), and “Water Melon Man” treads that groovy line of cha-cha. This reviewer’s personal favorites for ambiance or dance include a great lounge rendition of “Green Onions,” and a traveling more uptempo take on “Fly Me To The Moon.”

Swingin’ lounge enthusiasts or traditional ballroom dancers looking for a few new cuts will all be happy with this album, either for mood or for dance possibilities. Those who think vibes are only prevalent in elevator music might want to look for jazzy ensembles that select other instrumentation. Cocktails should come in several varieties, after all, and the Martini Kings always provide extra olives.

Cocktails with Cole Porter
Review by Will “The Thrill” Viharo

In tandem with the recent Cole Porter biopic De-Lovely, the latest release under the Ultra Lounge banner, Cocktails with Cole Porter (EMI Capitol), collects classic Porter tunes both previously released and new to the series, which is indeed “the greatest music in Earth!” Of course, this CD is a much more accomplished and authentic representation of the composer icon’s extensive and influential library than the film’s actual soundtrack. Here we have perfect Porter interpretations by the singers who really knew the music, not the tepid, screeching, limited-ranged Elvis-come-latelys crowing these gorgeous romantic standards for modern day, rock-conscious consumption.

Mix a Martini or Manhattan, or just pour a glass of apple juice, and revel in the melodious, lushly orchestrated joys of Nat King Cole crooning “Just One of Those Things,” Dean Martin emoting “True Love,” Ella Fitzgerald swingin’ live and crazy on “Let’s Do It,” Louis Prima and Keely Smith rockin’ out their wild version of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” and many other definitive turns by the likes of Kay Starr, Peggy Lee, Louis Armstrong, Nancy Wilson, Sammy Davis Jr., Tony Bennett, Steve Lawrence, Sarah Vaughn, Judy Garland and Liza Minnelli. Do not de-lay in taking this de-lightful de-tour from reality through a luscious musical dreamland.

Beatnik lounge lizard and writer Will “the Thrill” Viharo and his wife, Monica “the Tiki Goddess,” host a live cult movie cabaret called “Thrillville” at the Cerrito Speakeasy Theater in El Cerrito, CA. At home, he relaxes to groovy Vegas lounge, exotica, and heavy doses of Elvis while drinking homemade Mai Tais (which may have influenced this review somewhat).

Various Artists – The Music of Cole Porter
Review by Frankie Hagan

The idea behind the soundtrack for De-Lovely (Sony) is to have contemporary pop artists offer new interpretations, following a traditional path, of Cole Porter classics. The film De-Lovely portrays the life of the man behind many of the 20th century’s great classic standards, and it is wholly fitting that modern performers, the majority of them composers themselves, tackle material that was written both from the heart and the experience of someone who lived the very ideas he expressed in his music.

Already familiar with mining the beauty of the standard, Diana Krall stands out superbly on a fast-paced and jazzy rendition of “Just One of Those Things.” It’s hard to compete with Ella Fitzgerald’s version of “Begin the Beguine,” so Sheryl Crow makes a smart move reinterpreting this classic and some of Porter’s best lyrics as a sultry rumba. Alanis Morissette is surprisingly deft in her cover of “Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love),” showcasing her ability to perform varied material outside of her personal image.

Among the men, Robbie Williams does an admirable job carrying the film’s glorious title song “It’s De-Lovely,” sounding quite convincingly like he belongs on Broadway. One of the best pieces on the CD is performed by newcomer Lemar, in a stirring rendition of “What is This Thing Called Love?” Lemar’s buttery voice is going to be something to watch. Elvis Costello performs “Let’s Misbehave” with all of the exuberance implied by the lyrics, but his voice has never been about melodic sounds as much as about emotion, a trait he shares with Porter.

The compilation is not without its shortcomings, though, however slight. Kevin Kline betrays his own wonderful singing voice by trying to copy the style of Cole Porter too closely. The song tracks lifted from the film with Kline or Ashley Judd carrying a song play as imminently forgettable, though the understanding of emotion conveyed in “Night and Day” as performed by John Barrowman and Kevin Kline is right in line with lyrical interpretation and what songwriting is really about.

Cole Porter, like a spectral visitor overseeing a project, closes the album with a scratchy old recording of “You’re The Top,” offering a last glimpse at the subject of the work. The soundtrack, along with the film, might not come right out and say something specific about the connection between the substance of an artist’s work and who they are themselves, but it certainly implies it.

(Editor’s Note: For an added dose of de-lovely music, check out Will Viharo’s review of the new Ultra Lounge release, Cocktails with Cole Porter.)

Dino: The Essential Dean Martin
Review by Frankie Hagan

More than the handsome half of one of the greatest comedy teams of all time, more than a Rat Packer, and more than the host of a highly rated variety show, the man who made a tuxedo look as comfortable as a t-shirt, Dean Martin was the embodiment of cool. And so is The Essential Dean Martin (Capitol), a stand-out among other greatest hits collections in that it combines the Capitol and Reprise hit singles into one stunning package of memorable excellence.

The liner notes and accompanying booklet studied alone are a treasure, with words from Stevie Van Zandt and Dean’s children Deanna and Gail, the release dates for each song and its peak chart position, and the obligatory black & white photos of the master song stylist himself. But, the music is what makes this release most memorable.

It’s all here, from recognizable standards to sought after ballads. From the beautiful and hard-to-find waltz “Under the Bridges of Paris” to the quintessential rumba “Sway,” listening to Dean’s velvety, smooth vocals is pure joy. At a time when rock ‘n’ roll ruled the charts, Dean was slipping through gems, like “That’s Amore,” and attaching his name forever to Italian-themed hits, like “Volare” and “Inamorata.” Dean was charming and swinging with “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” and “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You.” He knocked the Beatles off the #1 spot with “Everybody Loves Somebody” and swept the girls away with love songs, like “Return to Me” and “I’ll Always Love You.” Western-styled selections from the ’60s are here as well, including “Houston,” and “Gentle on My Mind.”

Truly, from “Powder Your Face with Sunshine” to “Just In Time,” this is a wonderful starting place for a new fan of Dean, or a great summation of his career for a loyal follower. There’s a comforting spirit of truth and optimism in the relaxed styling of a man who was the world’s coolest crooner. This is the Dean Martin collection to own, for its diversity, its history, and its warm and tipsy dedication to the handsome tan man in the tuxedo.

Blue Note Plays BURT BACHARACH
Blue Note Plays STEVIE WONDER
Blue Note Plays THE BEATLES
Review by Will “The Thrill” Viharo

Three new compilation CDs paying tribute to Burt Bacharach, Stevie Wonder and The Beatles, respectively, make up the first entries in a wonderfully conceptualized series from Blue Note Records. These albums are glowing examples of how the apparently disparate worlds of rock, soul, jazz and lounge can fuse into an extremely rewarding and revelatory listening experience, proving that great composers create magic for the ages, not just their eras (or genres).

I threw these three on a changer hoping I could “name that tune,” even though some recognizable melodies might get lost in translation. I got it most of the time, and combining them really aided in my appreciation of the accomplished artistry assembled throughout these CDs. Of course, Burt Bacharach’s loungey compositions, from bouncy fluff like “Wives and Lovers” (Nancy Wilson) to classic pop like “The Look of Love” (The Three Sounds) and soulful gems like “Any Day Now” (Lou Rawls), are easily interpreted for Jazz audiences. The even more impressive (but equally satisfying) renditions are the funky fusions, like Stanley Turrentine’s “Boogie On Reggae Woman,” Paul Jackson’s “It’s a Shame” and Noel Pointer’s “Living For the City” on the Wonder CD, as well as inspired interpretations, like Lee Morgan’s magnificently moody take on “Yesterday,” Stanley Jordan’s aching “Eleanor Rigby” and Turrentine’s hard-swingin’ free-form “Can’t Buy Me Love” on the Beatles comp.

The various arrangements, featuring both vocal and instrumental cuts, are uniformly fresh and unique without negating the spirits of the originals. For jazz buffs in particular but music lovers in general, these beautiful, gently intoxicating CDs will put anyone in that relaxed, Sunday afternoon at home with a loved one frame of mind, even if you’re alone in traffic on a Tuesday.

Beatnik lounge lizard and writer Will “the Thrill” Viharo and his wife, Monica “the Tiki Goddess,” host a live cult movie cabaret called “Thrillville” at the Cerrito Speakeasy Theater in El Cerrito, CA. At home, he relaxes to groovy Vegas lounge, exotica, and heavy doses of Elvis while drinking homemade Mai Tais (which may have influenced these reviews somewhat).

The Best of Miss Peggy Lee
Review by Will “The Thrill” Viharo

I’m lovin’ this new trend of combining CDs with DVDs in one little package, neatly archiving highlights of a performer’s career both visually and aurally for one ¹s personal pop culture library. This dual format–also realized beautifully with The Ultimate Rat Pack Collection last year–now offers us The Best of Miss Peggy Lee, the silky siren who is as pleasant for the eye and she is for the ear.

The CD is a previously released greatest-hits package containing the usual classics, like “Fever” and “Manana,” along with more offbeat chart-toppers, such as “Riders in the Sky” and “Is That All There Is?” The DVD preserves a PBS special covering the gamut of her career with many priceless television performances and other invaluable historical footage, boasting 45 minutes not included in the original telecast.

All in all, this is both the perfect introduction to one of the greatest (and sexiest) cabaret legends in pop history, and a comprehensive collector’s item for the veteran fan of this agelessly cool torch singer.

Swinging Behind the Scenes of The Notebook
By Frankie Hagan, Special Contributor

It’s lunchtime and I’m sitting in a tent at a plastic table next to a choreographer and facing a publicist. We’re flanked on all sides by dancers and scene extras, and hurriedly wolfing down excellent food from disposable plates. The publicist looks quintessentially Hollywood. His name is Peter J. Silbermann, and he’s well dressed with a very neatly kept ponytail. The young choreographer, Chad Stall, is dressed in warm clothing and looking extremely enthusiastic. I know he’s very good, because I came up with him in the dance business.

I scribble furiously as the three of us talk about the Nick Cassavetes-directed film The Notebook, the big-screen adaptation of Nicholas Sparks’ novel that is in production as we speak. In particular, we’re discussing the dancing in the movie. Local retro fans that have caught wind of the production are already salivating over the period costumes, cars and decor that masterfully pepper this film, which is set in part in South Carolina in 1946. But it’s the dance scenes that interest me,primarily, because I’ve been hired as an extra to cut a rug myself.

Stall, who lives and works in Charleston, where filming took place, was trained in the franchised Fred Astaire Dance Studios method of partnered dancing. Diehard Lindy hoppers might scoff at the sometimes generic dancing epitomized by franchise ballroom schools, but Stall’s simple, back-to-basics teaching method is ideal for directing a large group. Three dance scenes have been worked into the production, although their impact and length will be decided during the editing process. Each of the segments seems to promise the compelling energy of life during a specific moment in time.

The vintage costumes of the 1940s and 1950s suit starlet Rachel McAdams to a tee.

Stall notes that his desire in each dance segment was “to create the idea of fun, not just choreography, but to create a natural moment.” The first segment we film is set in an officer’s club. The line that directs the audience in the script refers to a reminiscence of a character named Lon who “could really cut a rug.” The dancing is high energy but grounded, with the dancers moving quickly in a tight area. We’re doing the jitterbug with a low level of complexity, and adding occasional Balboa steps to match the fast pace of the music. Muses Stall, “The audition process can really set the tone for a dance scene. The dancers we had to work with shouldn’t look like champion swing dancers in this segment, but young people. Young soldiers who are going off to war.”

Writer and lindy-hopper Frankie Hagan has a minor wardrobe malfunction while filming a dance scene.

“Some people may not find this particular scene to be good history, considering what club this might be and whether or not the different ethnicities would be mixing in this fashion, but we’re more concerned about telling a good story,” says Silbermann. Many of the black dancers in the Harlem nightclub scene are professional performers specializing in hip-hop, tap, jazz and ballet, but not swing. In contrast, the white dancers in the segment are all swing dancers with different levels of professional or student status.

Notes Stall, “We’ve pulled from a mix of backgrounds to make this segment work, and hopefully the mix of ideas will be really true to form for the time period,when Lindy was coming out of Charleston, Breakaway, Foxtrot and other dances.”

I nod frequently as we talk and I scribble. My shoulder hurts as I write. We’ve been working on this scene most of the day, and the number of air steps is taking its toll on me. There are still hours to go.

I ask about the third scene, which as of my notes, had yet to be filmed. “It takes place at a carnival, and it’s very impromptu,” says Stall, smiling as if he knows some secret. “Dancing should always be fun and exciting. I like the surprise that dance can create in a story. I hope we can convey that and do something good for the craft.”

I ask him whom he’d like to thank for his experience as choreographer. “Todd Lewis, Jaime Emerine, and all of the talented dancers who have participated” in the film, Stall says. “The entire experience has been life-changing.”

Frankie Hagan is a certified professional dance instructor and a member of the National Dance Teacher’s Association. Though professionally independent, he is available to teach all forms of social partner dancing at the Arthur Murray Ballroom Dance Studio in Raleigh, NC.

Off Like a Prom Dress
Review by Frankie Hagan

The sound created by The Lost Patrol could be described as the Cranberries arranged by Chris Isaak with just a splash of surf. The presence of retro cool is obvious, as is the bleak, Gen-X lyrical slant. The band’s latest release, Off Like a Prom Dress, is not the stuff of crowded dance floors, but hauntingly thoughtful mood music that might work in a film score for some atypical teen flick to be played in the background when the guy starts to think about why he lost the girl. For that reason alone, movie producers should pay attention.

The unintentionally angsty vibe is best evidenced in “It’s All in My Head,” “Hands Tied,” and “Broken Blossom.” But the CD has an upbeat side as well. The truest surf-styled track on this collection is “Shimmy,” which hints of that quintessential Dick Dale influence that all reverb enthusiasts seem to have. The arrangements are fresh and do not suffer from monotony of tone, even though a darkly pensive mood is maintained throughout the set. Pay attention to the selections “Gray Day” and “Something I Don’t Know” for clever lyrics and instrumentation. “So Long” seems to be a tribute piece to a departed friend, seamlessly fitting the fabric of this album.

Danielle Kimak-Stauss has a voice that takes you to the empty place behind your heart within seconds, and supplies the percussion to keep it beating. She is perfectly matched with the material. Stephen Masucci and Joe Pascarell create the sound of ghostly surf music that pervades and defines this CD. The combination of moody, deeply personal original material with solid vocals and instrumentation make this album an interesting purchase, and make you appreciate the sunshine a little bit more.

Rockin’ Daddy!
Review by Frankie Hagan

If you like rock ‘n’ roll and think the best music ever recorded came out of the Sun Record Sessions, then you’ll love Rockin’ Daddy! from Pete Hodgson & the Fireballs (Raucous Records). Proudly advertised as having been recorded on vintage equipment, when played for listeners, this album will be frequently mistaken for Jerry Lee Lewis originals.

Enjoy classic boogie woogie piano and spirited fun with tracks like “You Can’t Break the Chains of Love,” “Travellin’ Light,” or “Rockin’ Daddy.” Clear honky tonk styling backs up more thoughtful ballads like “I’ll Run a Mile to You,” “How Many?” and this reviewer’s favorite mournful pick, “That’s What I Tell My Heart.” The rockabilly roots that define this era of music are evidenced in the selection “Hey Babe.” Once more, Pete Hodgson comes pretty close to channeling the spirit of Jerry Lee Lewis in the track “How Come You Do Me.”

The recordings have excellent clarity–don’t let the vintage equipment blurb scare you on that fact. Much like the Killer himself, Pete is a one man engine of entertainment. The selections accomplish exactly what they strive for. Listening to this album, you can almost see the rinky dink piano and smell the sawdust on the floor. And that’s what real rock ‘n’ roll is all about.

NUTTY
Review by Frankie Hagan
The self-titled release CD from Nutty promises the listener “spiked rock classics from a cool cocktail jazz tumbler.” What you get is an odd, smartly chosen assortment of party standards that will leave a permanent smirk on the face of a music lover who appreciates risk takers, warped though they may be.

The smarmy lounge singer belting out Top 40 tracks to the ears of a cringing audience is no new idea, but Nutty clearly has fun amazing a crowd with their chosen swingin’ wake up calls. Stand out tracks on this album include “The Boys Are Back at Dino’s,” covering Lynott’s rock anthem with a Vegas style lemon twist, and this reviewer’s personal favorite, “The Reaper (We’ll Be Able to Fly),” that becomes a sort of lovechild for Frank Sinatra and Blue Oyster Cult. As a sidebar, I should point out that Reaper would make a fun competition piece for some completely insane Lindy Hopper.

The vocals of Sonny Moon are warm and falsely tipsy like Dean Martin. He actually orders drinks between tracks 8 and 9 on the CD. Guy Wonder on bass and Jason Myers on guitar do a credible job of bridging established guitar arrangements with lounge chic. Hats off to Mike Rose on sax and Elliott Caine on trumpet for swinging out on songs that probably didn’t know they could bend that way, like a fat man in yoga class. Between Don Baarns’ drum work and the keyboards of Paul McDonald, the rest of this ensemble is given a nice framing. Without question, I’ll also give appreciative credit to whoever conceives these new arrangements.

Watch out for “Paranoid Cat” which takes Black Sabbath into the world of rumba and bossa nova, but stick around for “Back in Black, Baby!” where the horn play shines in a way AC/DC never would have conceived. “Miles and Miles and Miles” is another cocktail jewel that introduces The Who to Miles Davis with just a touch of “Sketches of Spain.”

A purist might want to hide under the bed, but anyone who appreciates the fusion of ideas, style, and lounge culture completely out of control must buy this album.