In near-rapid succession (mainly because I wrote the second of these two reviews late last night and sent it early this morning), here are my latest DVD reviews of two Dark Shadows compilations released a month ahead of the Tim Burton movie, and also to highlight the 131-disc complete series set, which came out in a limited edition on Tuesday (and probably sold out quickly), and a deluxe edition which will be out, oddly, in July.
Here they are:
Dark Shadows: Fan Favorites
Dark Shadows: The Best of Barnabas
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
Reunited with a Crush
In 2001, I had a crush on Alyson Hannigan because of American Pie 2, and saw it seven more times that summer. Last Saturday, which turned into a few errands rather that pushed our Passover dinner to Sunday, I went to see American Reunion at Edwards Canyon Country 10 while Mom, Dadm and Meridith went on those errands. It was the first time in such a short span of time that I saw two movies at the only two theaters in this valley. Mamma Mia! comes closest to that, even though we saw it at that same Canyon Country theater. We saw it one day and then went back the next day to see it again.
The same feelings I had about Alyson Hannigan, or at least her role as Michelle Flaherty (now Flaherty-Levenstein after American Wedding), welled up again while I watched this fourth installment in the series. Whereas Michelle had an unabashed quirkiness in American Pie 2, it's matured into a subtle, understated quirkiness, since she's a mom now. It's still very attractive to me, and Hannigan still has the talent of attracting much sympathy, this time for Michelle's marriage problems with Jim. Oh, I feel for Jim too, but considering that he's married to Michelle, why the hell does Kara, his former babysitting charge, matter in the least? Yet, this is what the plot hinges on, so we must watch. I didn't mind it though because American Reunion lifts the franchise up from the problematic American Wedding. The gross-out humor is here again, yet done with, ironically, more grace.
And good god, the number of times I wanted to be with Michelle while watching American Pie 2 zoomed past millions. It was still in the millions during American Reunion, but times have changed not only for these characters, but also for me: I can't see this one seven times because I can't afford these damn ticket prices all the time! I paid $9.50 to see this at a 4:15 p.m. showing. At the time of American Pie 2, I think I paid $4 or $4.50. And the movie industry wonders why box office totals drop off after the first weekend.
The same feelings I had about Alyson Hannigan, or at least her role as Michelle Flaherty (now Flaherty-Levenstein after American Wedding), welled up again while I watched this fourth installment in the series. Whereas Michelle had an unabashed quirkiness in American Pie 2, it's matured into a subtle, understated quirkiness, since she's a mom now. It's still very attractive to me, and Hannigan still has the talent of attracting much sympathy, this time for Michelle's marriage problems with Jim. Oh, I feel for Jim too, but considering that he's married to Michelle, why the hell does Kara, his former babysitting charge, matter in the least? Yet, this is what the plot hinges on, so we must watch. I didn't mind it though because American Reunion lifts the franchise up from the problematic American Wedding. The gross-out humor is here again, yet done with, ironically, more grace.
And good god, the number of times I wanted to be with Michelle while watching American Pie 2 zoomed past millions. It was still in the millions during American Reunion, but times have changed not only for these characters, but also for me: I can't see this one seven times because I can't afford these damn ticket prices all the time! I paid $9.50 to see this at a 4:15 p.m. showing. At the time of American Pie 2, I think I paid $4 or $4.50. And the movie industry wonders why box office totals drop off after the first weekend.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
This Feels Like Home to Me
I've described Las Vegas many ways, but this one sentence at the end of chapter 34 in Sin City by Harold Robbins easily encapsulates everything I've written about it:
I loved Vegas. It allowed people to be themselves.
You can truly be anyone you want to be in Las Vegas. If you're moving there, you can reinvent yourself. If you're staying for a few days, you can find your pleasures (it's always plural in Vegas) in a reasonable amount of time. Whatever you want, you can have it. It can be found somewhere. Now, that may not seem like people being themselves, but in Las Vegas, you can tap into your true nature, what you've always wanted to be but perhaps can't where you live or in the job that you do. Who you truly are is what Las Vegas wants.
That sentence reminded me of the title of Marc Cooper's book about Las Vegas: The Last Honest Place in America. It truly is. I know it.
I loved Vegas. It allowed people to be themselves.
You can truly be anyone you want to be in Las Vegas. If you're moving there, you can reinvent yourself. If you're staying for a few days, you can find your pleasures (it's always plural in Vegas) in a reasonable amount of time. Whatever you want, you can have it. It can be found somewhere. Now, that may not seem like people being themselves, but in Las Vegas, you can tap into your true nature, what you've always wanted to be but perhaps can't where you live or in the job that you do. Who you truly are is what Las Vegas wants.
That sentence reminded me of the title of Marc Cooper's book about Las Vegas: The Last Honest Place in America. It truly is. I know it.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
The Endearing Harold Robbins
Sin City isn't by Harold Robbins, since he died in 1997, but by a writer who was chosen to hew closely to Robbins' writing style. The writer for this one was apparently Junius Podrug, according to Fantastic Fiction.
Nevertheless, Sin City makes me want to read the novels written by Robbins himself not only because Las Vegas is evoked so well here that I feel like I'm home already, but because of a line in Chapter 3. It encapsulates what I've come to realize about Los Angeles, after years of trying to extract some meaning from it, starting from 2003 when I was a new student at College of the Canyons and read every book that I could find about Los Angeles, including literary anthologies. But here it is, the meaning that shows that there isn't any meaning; there never was meant to be a meaning:
"She didn't like L.A. It didn't seem like a real town, just endless streets and rows of houses."
It sure felt like that yesterday when we drove back to Santa Clarita from the area where The Landmark was. Dad knew that Mom didn't want to go back by way of the 405, so he took local streets, which weaved us past houses high up on mountains, houses nestled in those mountains close to the street, houses on stilts, houses that cost more than I'll probably make in my entire life. It took so long to get past those houses, though there was a nice large yellow one I liked with a fountain in the front driveway. Endless streets and rows of houses is correct. In fact, a year and a half ago, I bought from The Library of America Writing Los Angeles: A Literary Anthology for the sale price of $9.95, a perpetual sale price since it's still listed in the section of that website. I saw it at College of the Canyons, skimmed through it, but at that point, I wanted to read it to see if there was anything revealing about Los Angeles that could make me understand it. That one line in Sin City has made me seriously think about putting Writing Los Angeles in the Goodwill box. It's never been my city, it never will be my city, and I've found that meaning. Some like Los Angeles and perhaps to them it feels like a real town, but not to me. It never has.
The first paragraph of Chapter 10 in Sin City also has a perfect description in one of its sentences:
"To me, Vegas was like Hollywood, bigger than life, but even better because Betty told me that there really wasn't any place called Hollywood, that it was just a cheap and dirty street in Los Angeles and "Hollywood" was really movie studios and thousands of people scattered all over the L.A. basin."
Exactly. And now I can go home to Henderson and Las Vegas with this chapter of my life shut tight. I've nothing else to seek about Los Angeles. It's all right here.
Nevertheless, Sin City makes me want to read the novels written by Robbins himself not only because Las Vegas is evoked so well here that I feel like I'm home already, but because of a line in Chapter 3. It encapsulates what I've come to realize about Los Angeles, after years of trying to extract some meaning from it, starting from 2003 when I was a new student at College of the Canyons and read every book that I could find about Los Angeles, including literary anthologies. But here it is, the meaning that shows that there isn't any meaning; there never was meant to be a meaning:
"She didn't like L.A. It didn't seem like a real town, just endless streets and rows of houses."
It sure felt like that yesterday when we drove back to Santa Clarita from the area where The Landmark was. Dad knew that Mom didn't want to go back by way of the 405, so he took local streets, which weaved us past houses high up on mountains, houses nestled in those mountains close to the street, houses on stilts, houses that cost more than I'll probably make in my entire life. It took so long to get past those houses, though there was a nice large yellow one I liked with a fountain in the front driveway. Endless streets and rows of houses is correct. In fact, a year and a half ago, I bought from The Library of America Writing Los Angeles: A Literary Anthology for the sale price of $9.95, a perpetual sale price since it's still listed in the section of that website. I saw it at College of the Canyons, skimmed through it, but at that point, I wanted to read it to see if there was anything revealing about Los Angeles that could make me understand it. That one line in Sin City has made me seriously think about putting Writing Los Angeles in the Goodwill box. It's never been my city, it never will be my city, and I've found that meaning. Some like Los Angeles and perhaps to them it feels like a real town, but not to me. It never has.
The first paragraph of Chapter 10 in Sin City also has a perfect description in one of its sentences:
"To me, Vegas was like Hollywood, bigger than life, but even better because Betty told me that there really wasn't any place called Hollywood, that it was just a cheap and dirty street in Los Angeles and "Hollywood" was really movie studios and thousands of people scattered all over the L.A. basin."
Exactly. And now I can go home to Henderson and Las Vegas with this chapter of my life shut tight. I've nothing else to seek about Los Angeles. It's all right here.
Friday, April 6, 2012
A Tale of Two Movie Theaters
There we were on Thursday afternoon, a foursome, sitting in theater 8 at Edwards Valencia 12, waiting for the 3:10 showing of Titanic 3D. When Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace came out, I toyed with the thought of seeing it, but decided to save my money for this one. It turns out I didn't have to spend my money, because Dad wanted to see it chiefly because of the song, Meridith hadn't seen it in theaters (It was my birthday, March 21, 1998 when Mom, Dad and I saw it, and there was a babysitting place near the movie theater where we dropped off her eight-year-old self, since it wasn't likely that she could sit there for over three hours), and Mom decided to join us because there's just such a great deal of things to do in this valley that she could have become totally indecisive over what to do first, so this was best. *Overreacting Sarcasmotron off*
At Edwards Valencia 12, you buy your tickets at the box office outside, walk in and to the guy standing next to the ticket receptacle, give him your tickets, take them after he rips them, and go find your theater. It's an average-person movie theater, and I like it, though I don't particularly like this one. I tolerate it because it's one of only two theaters in this valley, and you work with what you have.
Since Edwards is owned by the Regal Entertainment Group, the screens light up with Regal First Look 20 minutes before the feature, beamed through a separate projector. I used to be against commercials being shown, and making-of segments about upcoming TV shows, but it's what's at the movies now. It's not going to change. If you don't want it, then you have to find a theater that still preserves what the moviegoing experience used to be, where it's all about the movies and only the movies.
That would be The Landmark in Los Angeles. Ever since seeing the trailer for We Have a Pope early last month, I desperately wanted to see the movie. It's about Cardinal Melville, who's elected Pope by the conclave, but right before when he has to address the faithful, he cries out, and runs away from the world outside and the Cardinals gathered around him. He can't do it. The Cardinals and the Vatican spokesman are worried, because how is it going to look to the faithful when they've announced "Habemus Papum," and there's no Pope present?
The Cardinals decide to try psychoanalysis, and invite a psychiatrist (director Nanni Moretti) to try to figure out what's disturbing Cardinal Melville. He can't ask about the Cardinal's childhood or anything about his mother, but he tries. This leads to a visit with the psychiatrist's estranged wife, who he claims is "the second best after me", but is obsessed with "parental deficit." After Melville visits this psychiatrist, he slips away from his security detail and walks among the people of Rome for the next few days, trying to figure himself out, and this is part of what made me want to see this movie. This Cardinal does not feel he is above the people. He is among them. I have great respect for that. The ending was quite a surprise, a little disappointing, but understandable, and I liked the message that I perceived in it: Someone who is staunchly himself or herself is more holy than any religion.
From the outside, The Landmark is a steel-and-glass building, with shiny white tile flooring after you reach the second floor by escalator or stairs. You go to the ticket counter, and after choosing the movie and showtime, you lean over a flatscreen monitor looking up at you and choose which seat you want. Then after you pay, depending on when your movie is, you either go right in, or wait until it's time for seating in your theater.
We nearly didn't make it on time for the 11:15 a.m. showing of Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a subtitled documentary about an 85-year-old master sushi maker in Tokyo. I saw it on the schedule, showed Meridith, and she wanted to see it. As soon as we got our tickets, she went right into her theater and I had some time to wait, because through the wooden slats of the closed wine bar (I'm sure it opens later in the day), I saw a vertical monitor behind the bar that counts down the minutes until seating begins for each theater. For We Have a Pope, the monitor said, "Seating Begins in 18 Minutes," so I had time to start reading Sin City by Harold Robbins (written by someone else under his name since he died in 1997), which takes place in Las Vegas, and which I've had in my Las Vegas stack for a while. Since I'm working on shrinking it, it was next in the stack.
18 minutes later, I got up, walked to the first ticket guy, who ripped the side of my ticket that belongs to The Landmark, and then I walked to theater 7, handing my ticket to the guy at the door.
It wasn't enough that the theater looked upscale by the architecture alone, or that the digital board showing what movies were playing and the showtimes at the box office counter was crystal clear. The guy looked at my ticket, saw that I was in seat D3, and escorted me to that row, floor level, three rows back from the screen. I found the seat in that row, sat down, and the screen loomed like Godzilla above me, but I was ok with that. At least it wasn't Titanic 3D, which wasn't one of the movies being shown at The Landmark, since they show some Hollywood movies, but mostly independent and foreign films, We Have a Pope being an Italian film.
Seated where I chose, I opened Sin City again, and listened to The Landmark's own music program which plays before the movie begins. I remember there being a music program that played before the movie at Muvico Paradise 24 in Davie, Florida, but it was a national program, not customized like it was for The Landmark. They can afford it.
Before the movie started, the guy who had escorted me to my seat walked to the front of the theater, welcoming everyone, and announced the movie, giving us the running time, as well as when it would end. He then said that if we had any questions or needed anything (probably if the film suddenly went out of focus, which didn't happen), to find him or someone dressed like him, "in this lovely shade of burgundy," he joked, holding out his shirt a bit with two fingers. "And now: We Have a Pope," he announced, and then walked out of the theater. Right at that point (because before the guy made his announcements, he told the projectionist over the radio to start theater 7's projector in two minutes), the lights went down and there were trailers for Darling Companion, Bernie, Monsieur Lazhar, and Trishna. Then the movie began.
I'm tempted to consider The Landmark great luxury in moviegoing because they have great respect for movies in general, but it feels too cold to me. The glass-and-steel design doesn't help it much, and though I do like the organization involved in presenting a movie on time with announcements to boot, I'm happy with a regular theater. It feels like this movie theater is for what I'm sure The Landmark perceives as a higher class of people, but I'm not part of it. I don't like class distinctions and I don't observe them. But considering that The Landmark connects to a Nordstrom which then leads into the high-end Westside Pavilion mall, well, that's a world that doesn't fit me. For sheer respect of movies, I love that dignified treatment, but it's not my kind of theater, even though the guy introducing the movie requested that there be no talking or cell phone usage during the movie. That was nice. However, I can ignore such things. At one point during the sinking of the Titanic yesterday, I heard sirens on the road outside the theater (the walls are that thin, though not between auditoriums), and ignored it. I'm there to see the movie, and it matters nothing what's going on around me. That's other people's business.
I'm sure there are theaters just like The Landmark in Las Vegas, but I hope they feel more accessible than this. Same dignified treatment, but more welcoming to all. I think that balance can be achieved.
At Edwards Valencia 12, you buy your tickets at the box office outside, walk in and to the guy standing next to the ticket receptacle, give him your tickets, take them after he rips them, and go find your theater. It's an average-person movie theater, and I like it, though I don't particularly like this one. I tolerate it because it's one of only two theaters in this valley, and you work with what you have.
Since Edwards is owned by the Regal Entertainment Group, the screens light up with Regal First Look 20 minutes before the feature, beamed through a separate projector. I used to be against commercials being shown, and making-of segments about upcoming TV shows, but it's what's at the movies now. It's not going to change. If you don't want it, then you have to find a theater that still preserves what the moviegoing experience used to be, where it's all about the movies and only the movies.
That would be The Landmark in Los Angeles. Ever since seeing the trailer for We Have a Pope early last month, I desperately wanted to see the movie. It's about Cardinal Melville, who's elected Pope by the conclave, but right before when he has to address the faithful, he cries out, and runs away from the world outside and the Cardinals gathered around him. He can't do it. The Cardinals and the Vatican spokesman are worried, because how is it going to look to the faithful when they've announced "Habemus Papum," and there's no Pope present?
The Cardinals decide to try psychoanalysis, and invite a psychiatrist (director Nanni Moretti) to try to figure out what's disturbing Cardinal Melville. He can't ask about the Cardinal's childhood or anything about his mother, but he tries. This leads to a visit with the psychiatrist's estranged wife, who he claims is "the second best after me", but is obsessed with "parental deficit." After Melville visits this psychiatrist, he slips away from his security detail and walks among the people of Rome for the next few days, trying to figure himself out, and this is part of what made me want to see this movie. This Cardinal does not feel he is above the people. He is among them. I have great respect for that. The ending was quite a surprise, a little disappointing, but understandable, and I liked the message that I perceived in it: Someone who is staunchly himself or herself is more holy than any religion.
From the outside, The Landmark is a steel-and-glass building, with shiny white tile flooring after you reach the second floor by escalator or stairs. You go to the ticket counter, and after choosing the movie and showtime, you lean over a flatscreen monitor looking up at you and choose which seat you want. Then after you pay, depending on when your movie is, you either go right in, or wait until it's time for seating in your theater.
We nearly didn't make it on time for the 11:15 a.m. showing of Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a subtitled documentary about an 85-year-old master sushi maker in Tokyo. I saw it on the schedule, showed Meridith, and she wanted to see it. As soon as we got our tickets, she went right into her theater and I had some time to wait, because through the wooden slats of the closed wine bar (I'm sure it opens later in the day), I saw a vertical monitor behind the bar that counts down the minutes until seating begins for each theater. For We Have a Pope, the monitor said, "Seating Begins in 18 Minutes," so I had time to start reading Sin City by Harold Robbins (written by someone else under his name since he died in 1997), which takes place in Las Vegas, and which I've had in my Las Vegas stack for a while. Since I'm working on shrinking it, it was next in the stack.
18 minutes later, I got up, walked to the first ticket guy, who ripped the side of my ticket that belongs to The Landmark, and then I walked to theater 7, handing my ticket to the guy at the door.
It wasn't enough that the theater looked upscale by the architecture alone, or that the digital board showing what movies were playing and the showtimes at the box office counter was crystal clear. The guy looked at my ticket, saw that I was in seat D3, and escorted me to that row, floor level, three rows back from the screen. I found the seat in that row, sat down, and the screen loomed like Godzilla above me, but I was ok with that. At least it wasn't Titanic 3D, which wasn't one of the movies being shown at The Landmark, since they show some Hollywood movies, but mostly independent and foreign films, We Have a Pope being an Italian film.
Seated where I chose, I opened Sin City again, and listened to The Landmark's own music program which plays before the movie begins. I remember there being a music program that played before the movie at Muvico Paradise 24 in Davie, Florida, but it was a national program, not customized like it was for The Landmark. They can afford it.
Before the movie started, the guy who had escorted me to my seat walked to the front of the theater, welcoming everyone, and announced the movie, giving us the running time, as well as when it would end. He then said that if we had any questions or needed anything (probably if the film suddenly went out of focus, which didn't happen), to find him or someone dressed like him, "in this lovely shade of burgundy," he joked, holding out his shirt a bit with two fingers. "And now: We Have a Pope," he announced, and then walked out of the theater. Right at that point (because before the guy made his announcements, he told the projectionist over the radio to start theater 7's projector in two minutes), the lights went down and there were trailers for Darling Companion, Bernie, Monsieur Lazhar, and Trishna. Then the movie began.
I'm tempted to consider The Landmark great luxury in moviegoing because they have great respect for movies in general, but it feels too cold to me. The glass-and-steel design doesn't help it much, and though I do like the organization involved in presenting a movie on time with announcements to boot, I'm happy with a regular theater. It feels like this movie theater is for what I'm sure The Landmark perceives as a higher class of people, but I'm not part of it. I don't like class distinctions and I don't observe them. But considering that The Landmark connects to a Nordstrom which then leads into the high-end Westside Pavilion mall, well, that's a world that doesn't fit me. For sheer respect of movies, I love that dignified treatment, but it's not my kind of theater, even though the guy introducing the movie requested that there be no talking or cell phone usage during the movie. That was nice. However, I can ignore such things. At one point during the sinking of the Titanic yesterday, I heard sirens on the road outside the theater (the walls are that thin, though not between auditoriums), and ignored it. I'm there to see the movie, and it matters nothing what's going on around me. That's other people's business.
I'm sure there are theaters just like The Landmark in Las Vegas, but I hope they feel more accessible than this. Same dignified treatment, but more welcoming to all. I think that balance can be achieved.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Changes and More Changes
Lately, I haven't written much about anything else besides The Henderson Press, my DVD reviews, my newfound, but probably long-simmering, love of sandwiches, and my new lifetime goal of reading all the Star Trek novels available. It's because over the past few weeks, up to spring break this week, Dad has been at work at La Mesa Junior High and the weekends are really when we do anything, but then it's just errands which aren't always worth writing about. I can find a story in anything, but over myriad visits to Walmart Supercenter and various supermarkets, we just know what we need to get and then we go. No real need to observe what's around me because I've seen it all before, with the long lines, the one line at the Redbox machine, kids spread around the store, whichever one we're at, and more. There's less personal value in it for me because I know all this too well. Meanwhile, once we get to Henderson, with Las Vegas nearby, I know I can flood this blog with stories for years on end. If you can't write in Las Vegas, then you should quit. I will never quit.
There was something telling today when we went out, though. The food court has begun to change in the Westfield Valencia mall. Kato Japan, which we've known for years as what we pass when we enter the mall through the food court and that we've tried once or twice, is gone. The former location has a black curtain across it. The sign has been either taken down or covered up in the same black fabric. On the second floor of the mall, right when you get off the escalator that's across from the mall's main entrance, there used to be a dog shop, with dogs in cages behind plastic windows. It closed last year and was replaced by a motorcycle accessory shop, which has also closed. On our way back to the food court from the Shops at The Patios (as the area is called), where we went to see if any new eateries had opened up before we four fully decided on the food court (Mom and Dad were waiting at the food court while we checked), Meridith and I saw that the motorcycle shop was gone, yet there were black plastic curtains covering the windows from behind, with a slight view right down the middle at the entrance. We peeked in and found that there's going to be an arcade there, and someone was inside, installing one of the machines. No pinball machines from the little I could see, but it makes sense. The only arcade in the Westfield Valencia shopping district is next to Edwards Valencia 12, called Full Tilt, and it's a sad-looking arcade, with the machines perpetually on sale, with price tags stuck to them.
My only question is: How does the mall plan to manage this? I can already sense occasional fights among teenagers, and kids hanging about for hours, so what's the plan? It's probably why I didn't see an arcade at Galleria at Sunset in Henderson. Security at the mall doesn't want the added burden of that, although kids are much more polite in Henderson than they are in Valencia. They're more genuine too.
While Meridith had a salad from Burger King, Mom a Whopper, me a Double Whopper, and Dad something from Panda Express, I noted how when we live somewhere for many years, nothing really changes in the area. And when something does, such as a furniture store being replaced by a bank, as it was next to the Sheriff's station near the mall, it's so subtle that it doesn't mean anything. But now, with the makeup of the food court changing, with two as-yet unclaimed spaces that have been boarded up for some time, with an arcade going into the mall where I'm sure no one expected one (though I'm sure the owners are going to get some good business from it), it's clear that massive changes only happen when we're getting ready to move.
Another case in point is when we went to Big Lots in Canyon Country before we went to pick up Tigger and Kitty from Precious Pets Grooming. Every single time we've gone there, from the first time to the time before this one, when Big Lots was offering 30% off items on a Sunday in early March, I've always struggled with how many DVDs and books to get, based on what interested me. I spent a lot of time each time counting books, counting DVDs, gauging my interest in every title I held. Some I kept because I absolutely needed to read it, such as Never Break the Chain: Fleetwood Mac and the Making of Rumours, and some I gave up, like Slam by Nick Hornby, because I still wanted to read A Long Way Down and wasn't ready yet for Slam. I know one doesn't lead to the other, but I've got to really want to read a book and I didn't want that one yet.
Today at Big Lots, for the first time ever, I bought nothing. I had picked up I Know I Am, But What Are You? by Samantha Bee, and That's Entertainment! III, and Michael Clayton, and carried them as I looked at an utterly devastating book section, but decided that I didn't need them so badly. I thought of watching Michael Clayton to see how Tony Gilroy is as a director before The Bourne Legacy comes out, but it doesn't matter; I'm still going to see The Bourne Legacy. Samantha Bee's book seems more like a read from a library, and I bought That's Entertainment! because of the crumbling MGM backgrounds, showing the stark reality of Hollywood, while actors like Fred Astaire and Esther Williams introduce clips. I don't think I'd find the same in That's Entertainment! III, since that came out in 1994, well after the MGM lots had been sold off, which is why they were in such a state of disrepair in the first movie. I like watching reality puncture Hollywood puffery.
That I walked through the book section--picking up one book, briefly reading the inside flap, and putting it back not five seconds after, with the process repeated a few times--without picking up anything that I really wanted to buy, shows the sorry supply at Big Lots right now. I don't know if it will change, because there were at least 10 copies of the extended two-disc set of Peter Jackson's King Kong, at least 15 copies of The Astronaut Farmer starring Billy Bob Thornton, and I lost count of how many SpongeBob DVDs I saw. No Star Trek DVDs that I had hoped to find, which was really worrisome because there was a slew of them when I wasn't looking for them three visits ago. But there were the same Star Trek figurines from the latest movie that were there last time, yet still no model of the Enterprise. Shouldn't that be part of this collection of figurines? I have no favorites among that group in the movie, but I do love that starship.
Disappointing as it was not to find one book or DVD that I just had to have, I'm happy at this development because things always change when we're getting ready to move, besides the moving part, life will change, and this time, it will be for the best and greatest, as high as those adjectives can go. It makes me wonder what else might change in this valley before we leave. It's bound to happen more and more. That's just the way it works.
There was something telling today when we went out, though. The food court has begun to change in the Westfield Valencia mall. Kato Japan, which we've known for years as what we pass when we enter the mall through the food court and that we've tried once or twice, is gone. The former location has a black curtain across it. The sign has been either taken down or covered up in the same black fabric. On the second floor of the mall, right when you get off the escalator that's across from the mall's main entrance, there used to be a dog shop, with dogs in cages behind plastic windows. It closed last year and was replaced by a motorcycle accessory shop, which has also closed. On our way back to the food court from the Shops at The Patios (as the area is called), where we went to see if any new eateries had opened up before we four fully decided on the food court (Mom and Dad were waiting at the food court while we checked), Meridith and I saw that the motorcycle shop was gone, yet there were black plastic curtains covering the windows from behind, with a slight view right down the middle at the entrance. We peeked in and found that there's going to be an arcade there, and someone was inside, installing one of the machines. No pinball machines from the little I could see, but it makes sense. The only arcade in the Westfield Valencia shopping district is next to Edwards Valencia 12, called Full Tilt, and it's a sad-looking arcade, with the machines perpetually on sale, with price tags stuck to them.
My only question is: How does the mall plan to manage this? I can already sense occasional fights among teenagers, and kids hanging about for hours, so what's the plan? It's probably why I didn't see an arcade at Galleria at Sunset in Henderson. Security at the mall doesn't want the added burden of that, although kids are much more polite in Henderson than they are in Valencia. They're more genuine too.
While Meridith had a salad from Burger King, Mom a Whopper, me a Double Whopper, and Dad something from Panda Express, I noted how when we live somewhere for many years, nothing really changes in the area. And when something does, such as a furniture store being replaced by a bank, as it was next to the Sheriff's station near the mall, it's so subtle that it doesn't mean anything. But now, with the makeup of the food court changing, with two as-yet unclaimed spaces that have been boarded up for some time, with an arcade going into the mall where I'm sure no one expected one (though I'm sure the owners are going to get some good business from it), it's clear that massive changes only happen when we're getting ready to move.
Another case in point is when we went to Big Lots in Canyon Country before we went to pick up Tigger and Kitty from Precious Pets Grooming. Every single time we've gone there, from the first time to the time before this one, when Big Lots was offering 30% off items on a Sunday in early March, I've always struggled with how many DVDs and books to get, based on what interested me. I spent a lot of time each time counting books, counting DVDs, gauging my interest in every title I held. Some I kept because I absolutely needed to read it, such as Never Break the Chain: Fleetwood Mac and the Making of Rumours, and some I gave up, like Slam by Nick Hornby, because I still wanted to read A Long Way Down and wasn't ready yet for Slam. I know one doesn't lead to the other, but I've got to really want to read a book and I didn't want that one yet.
Today at Big Lots, for the first time ever, I bought nothing. I had picked up I Know I Am, But What Are You? by Samantha Bee, and That's Entertainment! III, and Michael Clayton, and carried them as I looked at an utterly devastating book section, but decided that I didn't need them so badly. I thought of watching Michael Clayton to see how Tony Gilroy is as a director before The Bourne Legacy comes out, but it doesn't matter; I'm still going to see The Bourne Legacy. Samantha Bee's book seems more like a read from a library, and I bought That's Entertainment! because of the crumbling MGM backgrounds, showing the stark reality of Hollywood, while actors like Fred Astaire and Esther Williams introduce clips. I don't think I'd find the same in That's Entertainment! III, since that came out in 1994, well after the MGM lots had been sold off, which is why they were in such a state of disrepair in the first movie. I like watching reality puncture Hollywood puffery.
That I walked through the book section--picking up one book, briefly reading the inside flap, and putting it back not five seconds after, with the process repeated a few times--without picking up anything that I really wanted to buy, shows the sorry supply at Big Lots right now. I don't know if it will change, because there were at least 10 copies of the extended two-disc set of Peter Jackson's King Kong, at least 15 copies of The Astronaut Farmer starring Billy Bob Thornton, and I lost count of how many SpongeBob DVDs I saw. No Star Trek DVDs that I had hoped to find, which was really worrisome because there was a slew of them when I wasn't looking for them three visits ago. But there were the same Star Trek figurines from the latest movie that were there last time, yet still no model of the Enterprise. Shouldn't that be part of this collection of figurines? I have no favorites among that group in the movie, but I do love that starship.
Disappointing as it was not to find one book or DVD that I just had to have, I'm happy at this development because things always change when we're getting ready to move, besides the moving part, life will change, and this time, it will be for the best and greatest, as high as those adjectives can go. It makes me wonder what else might change in this valley before we leave. It's bound to happen more and more. That's just the way it works.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Tidbits from the Fifth Issue of The Henderson Press
New year, continuing evolution of The Henderson Press. To start, there's some new writers in this fifth issue, which is Vol. 1, No. 5., December 30, 2010 to January 14, 2011. In the staff list as contributing reporters are Jack Bulavsky, Don Logay, Royal Hopper (I love that name!), and Frances Vanderploeg (as if there isn't enough to attract me to Henderson, people there have unique last names). On the front page, Vanderploeg's article is about Santa visiting Robert Taylor Elementary School on Saturday, December 18. I had to get used to Vanderploeg's writing style, reminding myself that The Henderson Press is split into sections across its pages, but at times, hard news can mingle with what could be considered feature articles, such as this one. So reading this sentence on the front page, "You can't say Santa doesn't have style -- since his reindeer were resting in preparation of Christmas," was jarring at first, but it's a community newspaper, meant to feel like a community, and it does with a story like this, though the writing could obviously be better. Yet an article by Jeremy Twitchell, headlined "Henderson Employees Get Week Off," makes me feel better, knowing that hard news still has a place on the front page, where it belongs.
Here's what else is going on in this issue:
- There's a guitarist and vocalist named Jimmy Limo, who performed at Skyline Restaurant & Casino. The number of musicians in Southern Nevada is staggering, but they're a sliver of what keeps the area interesting.
- Don Logay's article about torrential rains raising the water level at Lake Las Vegas is one of the best articles I've read in The Henderson Press thus far. He has a curt writing style, more ramrod straight than Twitchell, which would be off-putting, except that he seeks out details as well as Twitchell does. He knows where the story is, and how to keep it interesting. I hope he lasts.
- Ok, that's just freaky. In my previous entry about The Henderson Press, I said, "I hope there's a full-on profile about Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe in a future issue." There is, in this issue. It's a full profile, about the origins of the Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe, as well as the 60 "individually scented soap bars" sold there, including Mango Gelato and Ginger Crumb Cake. This is my favorite part of the article by Fred Couzens:
"For the food-like soaps, called soap souffles, there's the added step of making the colorful cookies, berries, whipped cream and graham crackers that turns ordinary soap into a [sic] artful centerpiece that imitates the real thing."
Unfortunately, Couzens doesn't elaborate on this, such as if the soap can be used, and how that "added step" is done.
- On page 14 is a photo of the Floating Ice Rink at Montelago Village Resort, taken by a photographer associated with the property. I wish they included the name of that photographer because they know how to take atmospheric early evening photos. I'd want this framed.
- Royal Hopper is either the actual person in charge of the opinion page, or is either a pseudonym for someone who is. I lean toward the former, because considering how hard the reporters work at their articles, I doubt any of them would have time to oversee this page. But the name does seem like a pseudonym at first.
- On a page of the coupon section, there's two coupons from Villa Pizza, one for two large cheese pizzas for $26.95, and a large cheese pizza and wings for $28.95. For those prices, that had better be damn good cheesy pizza, with a lot of cheese, and wings.
- The back page is an ad for Lakes Discount Outlet at 1110 E. Lake Mead Parkway, "Up to 90% Off Brand-Name Clothing." My almost year-round wardrobe is jeans and pop culture t-shirts. Maybe they have decent sweatshirts and jeans there. I'd go there at least once.
I'm not making any hopeful predictions for the next issue like that apparently accurate one for a profile of the Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe. But I am hoping for another article by Don Logay. If he can make rainfall sound interesting, I wonder what he can do with desert heat. Maybe that happens in a future issue.
Here's what else is going on in this issue:
- There's a guitarist and vocalist named Jimmy Limo, who performed at Skyline Restaurant & Casino. The number of musicians in Southern Nevada is staggering, but they're a sliver of what keeps the area interesting.
- Don Logay's article about torrential rains raising the water level at Lake Las Vegas is one of the best articles I've read in The Henderson Press thus far. He has a curt writing style, more ramrod straight than Twitchell, which would be off-putting, except that he seeks out details as well as Twitchell does. He knows where the story is, and how to keep it interesting. I hope he lasts.
- Ok, that's just freaky. In my previous entry about The Henderson Press, I said, "I hope there's a full-on profile about Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe in a future issue." There is, in this issue. It's a full profile, about the origins of the Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe, as well as the 60 "individually scented soap bars" sold there, including Mango Gelato and Ginger Crumb Cake. This is my favorite part of the article by Fred Couzens:
"For the food-like soaps, called soap souffles, there's the added step of making the colorful cookies, berries, whipped cream and graham crackers that turns ordinary soap into a [sic] artful centerpiece that imitates the real thing."
Unfortunately, Couzens doesn't elaborate on this, such as if the soap can be used, and how that "added step" is done.
- On page 14 is a photo of the Floating Ice Rink at Montelago Village Resort, taken by a photographer associated with the property. I wish they included the name of that photographer because they know how to take atmospheric early evening photos. I'd want this framed.
- Royal Hopper is either the actual person in charge of the opinion page, or is either a pseudonym for someone who is. I lean toward the former, because considering how hard the reporters work at their articles, I doubt any of them would have time to oversee this page. But the name does seem like a pseudonym at first.
- On a page of the coupon section, there's two coupons from Villa Pizza, one for two large cheese pizzas for $26.95, and a large cheese pizza and wings for $28.95. For those prices, that had better be damn good cheesy pizza, with a lot of cheese, and wings.
- The back page is an ad for Lakes Discount Outlet at 1110 E. Lake Mead Parkway, "Up to 90% Off Brand-Name Clothing." My almost year-round wardrobe is jeans and pop culture t-shirts. Maybe they have decent sweatshirts and jeans there. I'd go there at least once.
I'm not making any hopeful predictions for the next issue like that apparently accurate one for a profile of the Sweet Bubble Soap Cafe. But I am hoping for another article by Don Logay. If he can make rainfall sound interesting, I wonder what he can do with desert heat. Maybe that happens in a future issue.
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