CINEMA SEEN - "Marilyn Chambers: A Cut Above The Rest!"
By William Margold

     It was a miserably cold and foggy night in San Francisco. Being used to the relatively balmy climate of Southern California, I had only brought along a flimsy jacket that did little to ward off the elements that were causing me to shiver.
     I had been commandeered by Mike Steele, the tyrannical owner of Spectrum West (an artistically pretentious adult entertainment publication based in Los Angeles for which I wrote various columns) to join him on this late evening foray in August 1972 to help in the process of collecting the money from, and then restocking, our newly established news racks in the hilly, windswept environs of "Frisco."
     All of a sudden, Steele, who was taking the quarters from me, and then handing me the papers to place in the racks, screamed, "You are getting blood all over the place." I looked down and discovered that apparently a coin slot had made quite a deep cut into my right thumb, and that my blood was now mixing freely with the considerable amount of dirt that I had collected off of the racks. But since my hands were numb, I hadn’t felt the wound being inflicted. However all Mike, totally indifferent to the fact that I might really be hurt, could do was continue to express his concern for the state of his precious papers. At that point I decided that my news rack servicing days were over. I told him to take me back to the hotel that we were staying in, and that I would make my way back to Los Angeles at my own expense.
     I didn’t get very much sleep because, although I had done my best to clean up the cut, the gaping wound was throbbing like a piece of barbed wire had crawled into it and was gnawing at my nerve endings.
     Discovering that the first available and most reasonably priced flight back to LA wouldn’t be until very late in the afternoon, I scanned the local paper looking for a movie house that I could escape into, and noticed that a film called "Behind The Green Door" was going to be shown "For Free" at The O’Farrell Theater.
     And that’s what led me to seeing Marilyn Chambers on the screen.
     And once the beautiful lady appeared in all of her glory, a throbbing elsewhere in my body took my mind off the pain in my thumb.
     And when the imposing ebony entity of Johnnie Keyes boldly assaulted Marilyn’s Ivory Soap girl’s innocence, I smiled sardonically as America’s Morality was rent asunder. And I writhed wantonly in the knowledge that the world would never be the same again.
     Hardcore filmmaking was here to stay.
     And I sensed that I had found my own destiny.
     Little did I realize however, that I would eventually wind up becoming one of the keeper’s of its flame as well as a highly regarded chronicler of its shattering impact on society’s nervous system.
     Marilyn Chambers’ tragic death last week made a great deal more than my thumb hurt.
     I struggled painfully for a few days--- fielding e-mails and calls from an aching army of Adult Entertainment Industry associates and XXX fans who desperately needed someone to share their misery with.
     I knew however that I would eventually have no choice but to spill my own tears...and you are reading them now.
     (Note: I am quite thankful that I was given the blessing of Carnal Comics to accompany my words with a number of their images from the three-part history series that I helped them to compile in 1995.)
     I did not have the honor (and I’m sure what would have been the pleasure) of working sexually with Ms. Chambers. But I did have many opportunities to pay homage to her---including staging a "Broast" for her at the 2005 FOXE (Fans of X-Rated Entertainment) event during which Johnnie Keyes made a surprise guest appearance.
     Inducted into every Hall of Fame that the Adult Entertainment Industry has ever created---her true magnitude was immediately validated when I was coordinating The Legends of Erotica playing card deck (a work still in progress, and one that may well never come to fruition), and Marilyn was "without a doubt" accorded The Ace of Spades position by the late Jim Holliday.
     John C. Holmes ("The King"), the most important man in X...died 21 years ago.
     And now, Marilyn Chambers ("The Queen"), the most important woman in X... has joined him.
     Together...they will reign over The Carnal Cinematic Court that they so magnificently and monumentally helped to create...forever.
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, April 23, 2009 issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Lewdly Patriotic!"
By William Margold

     That I am dedicating an "entire precious page" of Cinema Seen space to WATCHMEN might suggest to you that I really liked the movie.
     Well...that’s not exactly true.
     But after all I went through "preparing" to see the film...I at least "respect it" enough to give it the back cover that you are looking at.
     It all started when a number of hyperventilating "fanboys" of the highly acclaimed WATCHMEN graphic novel (published in 12 parts during 1986 and 1987 by DC Comics), began challenging me to "read the book before I saw the movie"---or I "wouldn’t be able to understand the real meaning of the film."
     So I plunked down my $20...and picked up the hefty---now compressed into one complete combination of images and text for easier handling---publication (the cover of which is justifiably featured on this page), and waded into what I thought would be a "simple" comic book reading experience.
     Almost immediately however, I realized that this was going to be a far cry from the comic books that disturbed my youth during the early 1950’s. But then again, since I cut my mental teeth on what was ghoulishly served up between the highly suggestive covers of many EC comics---which eventually wound getting banned---maybe what I was paging through wasn’t going to be that different after all.
     However, within a few pages, I became impressed by the fact that, while not all that different, what I was embarking on was going to be anything but "simple."
     Indeed...as I began to penetrate writer Alan Moore’s and illustrator Dave Gibbons’ formidable amalgam of mind rattling images and thought provoking text, I realized that I was never going to be able to finish the task, or in fact, give the proper time and attention to Moore’s and Gibbons’ creation that it so obviously deserved...before I saw the movie.
     So I opted to just read...and try and absorb as much of the picture and word portion of WATCHMEN as I could...and skip the considerable amount of compelling connective text between each drawn chapter.
     Of course...I promised myself that one day in the not so distant future...when I was blessed with a considerable amount of "free time"...I would return to the book and "out of respect"...I would give it the thorough studying that I could sense it had earned during my initial visit. That the Zack ("300") Snyder directed production is too faithful to the book unfortunately is the double-edged sword that finally what makes the film ultimately fail as entertainment. And I wonder now if I hadn’t read (or known) almost everything before watching the movie, would I be slitting its throat, as well as my interest nerves, with that very same weapon.
     It is the Cold War era bleak world on the verge of termination that the film’s storyline is immersed in, and those who were once heroes and amusingly costumed defenders of good have become archaic. But when one of them (The Comedian played with very convincing/cigar chomping charismatic damnation by Jeffrey Dean Morgan) is brutally murdered, the rest of the fearless family rise from their exiles, and venture off to save mankind...in spite of itself.
     Indeed...there is something lewdly patriotic about WATCHMEN that is as compelling as it is disconcerting, and because of that, it is very hard to like... but certainly not all that difficult to "respect"---or perhaps I should say "perversely admire."
     Leading the way against an unknown enemy is the seemingly soulless Rorschach, a nightmarishly masked man magnetically etched by Jackie Earle Haley. He is Heath Ledger’s Joker taken to even deeper levels of dementia, but damn if he isn’t the purest soul of the entire group.
     Joining him are Patrick Wilson as an appropriately square Nite Owl, Malin Ackerman as a fittingly slinky Silk Spectre, and Billy Crudup as the accidentally irradiated, but therefore incredibly wise Dr. Manhattan.
     Eventually they discover that the unknown enemy is one of their own---the preening Ozymandias (Matthew Goode)---whose master plan is to frighten the world into peaceful submission.
     And while I don’t want to give everything away here...although I "respected" the intent of the message...I remained unmoved as it was delivered.
     There are always going to be enough wild dogs out there that are impervious to being afraid.
     And they will be the ones who eventually push the buttons that will reduce this planet back to the cosmic dust it came from.
     And at that point in the tortured tissue of time...all of us will become WATCHMEN...futilely trapped in the fact that all we can do is watch...until our eyes explode.
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, March 26, 2009 issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Oscar-rizing 2009!"
By William Margold

     So this is what all the hours in dank movie theaters consuming enormous amounts of rarely fresh popcorn and swallowing gallons of odd tasting lemonade during 2008 have come down to: predicting the Oscar winners in the six major Academy Award categories.
     Now I must search my heart and my mind and play them against each other so that by the time that I’ve made my "predictions"---my soul is content.
     That I’m not spending any more space on this introduction should suggest to you that I’m taking my "predictions" about what and who will happen on Sunday evening February 22---much more seriously this year---which of course, should suggest to you that I am deranged, deluded, and demented, for taking anything associated with "predicting the Oscars" seriously in the first place.

     BEST ACTRESS---Perhaps the easiest of all categories to "predict" because the only contender worth a damn is the lovely lady pictured here in the bathtub---KATE WINSLET---for her eloquently understated work in the effectively thought provoking "The Reader." Her lackluster and non-threatening competition includes unremarkable turns by an annoying Anne Hathaway (in the even more annoying "Rachel Getting Married), a sluggish Angelina Jolie (in the Clint East-"wooden" "Changeling"), a woeful Melissa Leo (in the yawn-and-squirm-inducing "Frozen River"), and a strident Meryl Streep (in the about as shocking as finding a mouse in the communion wafer box "Doubt").

     BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS---Easily the least interesting category this year, but PENELOPE CRUZ as the fiery Maria Elena in Woody Allen’s quirky "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" stands a couple of lovely shoulders above the rest. Penelope’s four also-rans include a dismal Amy Adams and an unmoving Viola Davis (both from the aforementioned dullard "Doubt"), an ordinary Taraji P. Henson (from the odd but oddly uninvolving "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button") and a sullen Marisa Tomei (from the unconvincing "The Wrestler").

     BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR---Quickly eliminating Philip Seymour Hoffman for his tepid turn in the dubious "Doubt"...biding farewell to Michael Shannon who might have been a stronger contender if he had had more scenes in the routine "Revolutionary Road"...and admitting that Josh Brolin was appropriately unnerving, and delivered the best performance of all the cast members (as Dan White) in "Milk"---it comes down to my favorite character etching of 2008...the perceptively hilarious Robert Downey Jr. (whose colorful immersion into acting added considerable shine to an already glowing "Tropic Thunder")---and the late Heath Ledger (who maximized malevolence during his warped romp as The Joker so much that it diminished the overall effect of "The Dark Knight"). A tie between Downey Jr. and Ledger would be great...but Academy Award ties are even rarer than Detroit Lions winning seasons, so sardonically, because fate dealt him the Death card, I must go with HEATH LEDGER.

     BEST ACTOR---Richard Jenkins (as an overwhelmed everyman) was nice in "The Visitor" and of course, nice guys don’t usually finish first. Brad Pitt was intriguing but was also a victim of way too much "movie magic" in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." Mickey Rourke was more caricature than character as "The Wrestler." Sean Penn was too saintly, and I felt he only skimmed the surface in "Milk." So my "prediction" here is FRANK LANGELLA (in "Frost/Nixon") who made the role of the Watergate weary Richard Nixon an all-consuming, sense shattering, emotionally exhausting experience that was equal parts pathetic and empathetic, supremely tinged with commanding bravado. I rank Mr. Langella’s moments as Nixon with what Burt Lancaster brought to the screen as "Elmer Gantry." And when you think about it...what politician isn’t a con man? And what rabble-rousing speech to the masses isn’t a revival meeting?

     BEST DIRECTOR---Stephan Daldry dawdles during "The Reader." Gus Van Sant doesn’t manage to make "Milk" boil over with either meaning...or tension. David Fincher had way too much to work with and didn’t deliver enough, or paradoxically might have had too little to work with, and delivered too much during "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." Ron Howard did his job admirably and made "Frost/Nixon" thoroughly compelling. But DANNY BOYLE answered every question put to him, and created a genuine cinematic surprise in the process with his "Slumdog Millionaire."

     BEST PICTURE---"The Reader" was adequately uncomforting but really amounted to one great performance (by Ms. Winslet). "Milk" was timely (considering the foolish fate of Prop. 8), and made us care...just not enough. The living life backwards gimmick of "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was simply too curious for its own good. "Frost/Nixon" was history in a very neat package...perhaps a little too neat. Therefore...SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE, with its magnetic theme of life being a gritty as well as a gossamer web of questions and answers kept me fascinated throughout the India-based drama.
     (Readers of last week’s column might remember that I ran a picture of "Slumdog" as part of the artwork for what [or whom] I said I wouldn’t be "predicting" to win. However, after reconsidering the situation, and because I already lose enough being a Detroit Lions fan...I decided to at least try and ease my pain here. Remember that I said, "I’m taking this Oscar predicting business very seriously.")

     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, February 19, 2009 issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Missing The Cut!"
By William Margold
     By the time that you are reading this column I should have "almost" completed watching ALL of the nominated productions and performances that will be contending for the major honors when Oscars 2009 airs on ABC on Sunday evening, February 22.
     Thanks to the facility of Netflix, and the generosity as well as the fearlessness of various associates who provided numerous screeners (some of which foolishly threatened the sacrifice of favorite pets if it were discovered that they had been loaned out)---thereby precluding my having to spend precious time in dark little theaters catching up with elusive titles---the football free weekend preceding The Super Bowl was a blur of one film after another...resulting in the following page primarily consisting of a six-fingered fistful of performances by females who didn’t make the final cut.

     I’VE LOVED YOU SO LONG---With very rare exceptions ("King of Hearts" and "Das Boat"), I have never enjoyed having to read movies. If this fact offends my effete brethren in the film reviewing community, then so be it...and they are all welcome to turn their pointed noses up whenever we are in the same auditoriums. And although it doesn’t take much effort to figure out what Kristin Scott Thomas is up to as she painfully etches a lady who is consumed by the guilt of being involved in the death of her son, I still found the suffering through the French and German transposed into sub-titles tedious and unrewarding. And with the exception of one outburst, Ms. Scott Thomas’ performance didn’t do very much for me--- (in any language)---and therefore I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t nominated.

     HAPPY-GO-LUCKY---Talk about a film that needed sub-titles...this empty-headed English language throw away was so unintelligible that I almost wore out my rewind button trying to hear what un-nominated actress Sally Hawkins and her co-stars were muttering about under Mike Leigh’s meandering helming. Sally (as Poppy) is a bright-eyed, bushy tailed creature, who sees the sunny side of every storm cloud, and who, had she been around during The Blitz, would have probably thought how nice London looked by bomb-light.

     THE DUCHESS---Keira Knightley did not get nominated for her efforts in this pretty but genuinely pointless piece of historical ho-hummery about a lady who is unable to bear a son for the Duke of Devonshire, who is portrayed by Ralph Fiennes with just enough mannered evil that I was perversely content throughout the two hours that it took out of my life. Quite frankly though, it was the score that captured my interest more than the images, as I kept hearing the strains of the stuff that Rachel "Cider House Rules" and "The Legend of Bagger Vance") Portman has gloriously produced, and I delighted to discover that she had indeed created the music for this film as well. In fact, in honor of Ms. Portman, I wrote this column while the strains of her soaring "Cider House" score warmed my senses.

     NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH---Magnetically appealing to my journalistic ways, director Rod Lurie’s tale of a news writer Kate Beckinsale) who refuses to divulge her source when she outs a CIA agent (Vera Farmiga) is the tragically perfect example of a late December release that got buried in the BIG holiday film shuffle. Both actresses weren’t nominated...and both ladies are outstanding, with Ms. Beckinsale staunchly suffering with such supposedly protected by The First Amendment nobility, that I felt ashamed by the fact that I am proud to be an American, when what this country was based on is being eroded by fear-mongering politicians...every day! Many, many years ago, while cutting my journalistic teeth at Santa Monica College, I tumbled upon a student presidential race bribe scandal, and reported the story, but never gave up my source, much to what I thought was the enduring enmity of my advisor. However a few years later, when I encountered her while I was interning at The Santa Monica Outlook, she extended her hand, and said that my actions had made her proud.

     ELEGY---A searing and insightful look at an older man’s highly introspective (and frightened of failure) infatuation with a younger woman, the Isabel Coixet directed mini-masterpiece caught me off-guard, and hit home with quite a number of below the belt/acutely painful punches. Ben Kingsley, aging with pompous perfection, plays a professor who falls under the spell of his dangerously attractive student---the radiant Penelope Cruz, who should have been nominated for Best Actress here, but wound up getting a Best Supporting nom for her work in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona"---which she might win for, because of her performance in this film. (Yes...it works that way...sometimes!) In fact "Elegy" which was adapted from Philip Roth’s novella "The Dying Animal" is so personal to me (my great love relationship was with a lovely lady who was a decade and a half younger than me, and I was afraid of losing her all through the five years that we were together)---that I just might track down the written work, and force myself to read it---an action that I find just about as much fun as dealing with sub-titles.
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, February 5, 2009, issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Underwhelmed Times Three"
By William Margold

     Rather than disrupt a good night’s sleep (comforted by watching the first two hours of the new season of the annoyingly wonderful LOST just before turning in) to stagger blearily into my living room to watch the Academy Award nominations "live" at the ridiculously early time of 5:30am last Thursday morning, I simply cheated disorientation (as well as precluded crankiness for the rest of the day) by scheduling my VCR to record the announcements, and then got up, much more rested, and watched them at the much more reasonable 8:30am.
     And now the countdown to the Oscar presentations on Sunday, February 22 begins. And as mentioned in last week’s column, my next quartet of Cinema Seens will be devoted to the discussion of what (and who) made the final cut...and of what (and who) didn’t...culminating with my Feb. 19 "Prediction Piece"---wherein I will put my movie watching/evaluating insights on the line for all to revel in...or ridicule over.
     Herein, although not wanting to look like I am enjoying myself too much, I’m going to knock around a trio of heavy hitters that, for any number of reasons, failed (with the exception of a supporting performance) to make the cut.

     VALKYRIE---Nazis and their interminably futile attempts to knock off Hitler are ploddingly presented in this Bryan Singer directed bore-wurst that gives Tom Cruise very little to do except fail. Cast as "good Nazi" Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (who probably thought that there really was soap in those showers), Cruise gets an eye knocked out early on, and fashions a patch that would make a pirate proud throughout the rest of the film, which at least makes him slightly more dimensional than his costars that include Tom Wilkinson, Bill Nighy, Kenneth Branagh and Terrence Stamp. Tensionless and tedious, the production eventually becomes history mired in the quicksand of seemingly good intentions gone awry. However, with really nothing very likeable about any of the characters in the film, I kept thinking that even had the plot to assassinate Adolph been successful, and the head of the snake had been cut off...the venom of what the Nazis perpetrated upon the world was still going to be as virulent throughout the rest of the beast.

     REVOLUTIONARY ROAD---A very sour serving of Salinger (as in J.D.) that places pretty hamsters Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet on the barbed wire treadmill that is commuter train close to New York, Connecticut suburbia circa 1955. Directed listlessly, with one exception, by Sam ("American Beauty") Mendes, this is much more "American Brittle" with the end result being that I really didn’t give a damn if the characters shattered...or not! All of this is being done a whole lot better (and commandingly) right now on AMC in the MAD MEN cable television series...with one exception...the presence of an actor named Michael Shannon, who, in two extended scenes of raging emotions (and remarkable insight) tears up the screen. Although most likely to lose out to Heath Ledger in Best Supporting Actor category, Shannon scorches the senses, and of course steals the film. Only problem... "Revolutionary Road" isn’t worthy of Shannon’s theft.

     GRAN TORINO---The temptation to label Clint Eastwood’s miserable, and misery-inducing excuse for a motion picture---"Dinosaur Harry"---and allow it to disappear would be the humane way to let it go away...forever. But I guess, much like the grumbling grouch that Clint (who also laconically directed the dismal doings) portrays, my milk of human kindness has long soured, and I am compelled to kick Clint’s cinematic cur while it’s down. Spewing racial epithets with virtually no conviction (let’s just say Clint’s Walt Kowalski doesn’t really call "a spade"..."a spade"--- and slants his other ethnic slurs with all the menace of a Q-tip rather than a dart), he grouses in breathy sound bites resembling the gargling of razor blades, swilling beer, while waiting (of course, impatiently) for Father Time to catch up with him. And when he finally finds a genuinely unconvincing excuse to go out on his own terms, what was designed to elicit my tears simply got another yawn out of me.
     Sardonically, just before his supposed "noble act"---he drops his faithful dog off with his irksome neighbors---whose eating habits are rumored to lean toward turning canines into cuisine.
     And in a final note of irony...I listened close enough to the sullen script to learn that Clint’s character is a long time Detroit Lions season ticket holder. From my own painfully personal experiences of being afflicted with acute Detroit Lion-fan-itis for over 50 years---although admittedly trivial---I guess that’s reason enough to look at the life through shattered glasses.
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, January 29, 2009, issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Paying My Respects!"
     By William Margold
     
          Apparently being SO "under whelmed" by the paucity of quality films that I saw as last year was staggering to an end, I mistook the entire 12 month period just past for 2007...instead of 2008...in my 12-18 column.
     Therefore...I’ve decided to enter into 2009 by wrapping up a wildly diverse (as evident in the images that adorn this page) number of loose ends, before (hopefully) discussing a few "quality" major holiday efforts in next week’s issue.
     
     WILD BURRO RESCUE SANCTUARY---Truly a "pet project" among many concerned LAXPRESS staffers...the Hee-Haw Haven in Olancha, CA 93549...has become the repository for whatever tips the flow of fascinating customers give the XPRESS’ ad sales force. Indeed...it takes an ass to appreciate an ass...on both sides of the counter. And the dollars do add up...with another $50 being sent---right after this page is printed, so it could be included with the donation---to the facility that is "dedicated to the live capture-rescue, rehabilitation and lifelong care of otherwise doomed wild burros."
     
     DAY OF ANGER---The pleasure of getting to see this smartly involving Lee Van Cleef starring Italian western was provided to me by a lovely lady named Marla, who with her late husband Don, were tirelessly helpful to my various X-rated organization "fun"draising ventures through the infamous adult star stuffed "Lingerie Auction Shows" that I staged at The Toy Box (1999 W. Arrow Rte. Upland, CA 91786) for many years between the mid-80’s up to December 1999. In fact, there were plans to recreate (last month) a "Lingerie Auction Show" in honor of Don’s passing in December 2007, but saner, authority fearing heads, prevailed, and the event was cancelled. What made the watching of "Day of Anger" even more enjoyable was the fact that among the DVD extras was a feature called "Almeria: Now and Then"--- that was thoroughly researched and photographically produced by Marla and Don wherein they visited the exact locations in Spain where director Tonino Valerii’s "Day of Anger"...and a number of legendary director Sergio Leone’s masterworks (including "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly") came to gloriously lusty and histrionically violent, life. This was a very passionate quest for Marla and Don, and I was very much enthralled with their images of what was then as compared to what is now.
     
     FIREFLY---I devoted last week’s page to paying "fond farewells" to two of my favorite TV series---"The Shield" and "Boston Legal." Here, thanks to the sagacious insistence and warm generosity of Scorching Images’ Dave Michaels, I would like to endearingly acknowledge the genuine pleasure that I derived from watching the sadly short (only 14 episodes including a two-part opener, and the three that were never aired, during the last few months of 2002 on FOX) but superbly bittersweet existence of a thought-provoking space/western rollercoaster ride created with childlike wonderment by Joss Whedon (of "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" fame). The wild and wooly adventures of the crew---slyly captained by Nathan Fillion, and fiercely aided by Gina Torres, Adam Baldwin and Alan Tudyk---of the good galactic transporter Serenity, were the rascally loyal stuff that ignited the desire for many extended periods of recess in my soul. And while I experienced the guilty pleasure of seeing FIREFLY in its entirety in virtually one joyous fell swoop, I also felt true twinges of guilt over having missed it when it first aired six years ago. Which led, of course, to my introspectively wondering if I would have found it as fascinating back then as I did now. Which brings up the next item on this page.
     
     SERENITY---Much to the delight of its legion of faithful fans...Joss Whedon’s TV series "Firefly" was exhumed and brought to the big screen in 2005. And again, thanks to Dave Michaels, I was provided with the opportunity to watch it on DVD. And while it did manage to wrap-up quite a number of loose ends, particularly in the case of Summer Glau’s tortured River character, I must admit that given a choice, I would have been content simply watching "Firefly" episodes over and over again, particularly the lyrically longing one called "The Message"...and the rambunctious ones---"Our Mrs. Reynolds" and "Trash"---guest-starring the radiant redhead Christina Hendricks (currently heating up AMC’s magnificent "Mad Men").
     And now, if you’ll excuse me...I’ve decided to stake out a considerable portion of my immediate future TV viewing time to discovering why Whedon’s aforementioned "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" became the stuff of cult series lore. And once again...I’ve got Dave Michaels to thank for loaning me the first set of "Buffy" DVDs. (And after watching the entire first season, I’m pleased to report that it’s an amusing high school themed amalgam of "The Night Stalker"/"The X- Files.") And Michaels has happily promised to continue to replenish the "Buffy" sets until I’ve completed them. And as added bonus, Dave gets literally gleeful by advising me that he will also eventually be letting me borrow the spin-off from "Buffy" called "Angel." However he has cautioned me that once I am given "Angel"...I must watch that series concurrently with "Buffy." Sounds VERY mysterious...doesn’t it?
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, January 1, 2009 issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Gone But Not Forgotten!"
By William Margold

     I take my television series watching seriously.
     VERY SERIOUSLY!
     Indeed...I spend more time studying the latest issue of TV Guide than I do reading the LA Times daily sports and entertainment sections.
     And I have a specially dedicated-to-TV- watching calendar on my weathered coffee table that is barely decipherable from being marked upon in blue ink---and then marked over in red ink---as each new episode of one of "my shows" airs. This process keeps a very important part of my life on track, and prevents me from being run over by reruns.
     Having long admitted to being afflicted with STVSA (Severe TeleVision Series Addiction)…I am currently going through a truly traumatic period during which many of "my shows" have either ended their runs...or, as in the cases of PUSHING DAISIES and DIRTY SEXY MONEY, are having their runs ended for them.
     But I still have (in order of preference) DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, GREY’S ANATOMY, LAW AND ORDER and LAW AND ORDER CRIMINAL INTENT, PRISON BREAK---plus the mind-boggling LOST and the perpetually pleasing SIMPSONS---to rely on. And although I resisted it at first, I have take a fancy to FRINGE, as it conjures up amusingly eerie images of one of my long gone bedeviling pleasures---THE X-FILES.
     And apparently, after spending almost 14 years with me---my magnificent Himalayan cat Samson has figured out when I am approachable, and when it is wise to stay away from me---as my "special shows" flicker in the confines of our teddy bear cluttered, obstinately unkempt living room.
     Recently two of my all-time favorite shows---THE SHIELD and BOSTON LEGAL---came to an end within a week of each other.
     And Samson could sense that I was very unhappy.
     VERY UNHAPPY!
     And he was uniquely aware that my unhappiness was laced with nervous tension and ominous suspense, so he watched me warily from a protective distance, while the final episode of THE SHIELD (Shawn Ryan’s savage cop show on FX) played out, and the fate of TV’s most tortured anti-hero, the pit-bullish Vic Mackey (etched with mesmerizing brilliance by Michael Chiklis) was pigeon holed into a cubicle. But wait...perhaps the warped work of the dirtiest Harry of them all isn’t over yet, as the whine of a police siren was Mackey’s Circesque call back into action. So he burrowed deep into a desk drawer and pulled out a gun. And all of a sudden...perhaps the bad guys out there have someone to really worry about again. And this time Mackey’s cage could extend onto the big screen where he gets to roam free with R-rating impunity.
     From the first episode, when Mackey kills one of his own (a cop who is informing on his associates), I knew that I was in for a show that was aimed below the belt, that took no prisoners on either side of the badge, and that was going to be like trying to chew beef jerky with broken teeth. Many times...as the conclusion of an episode shattered my senses...I could only shudder a stunned "Wow" before turning off my TV...and then staggering off to my bedroom to try and go to sleep.
     Sterling supporting performances throughout the run of THE SHIELD were rendered luminously (and appropriately, very painfully)---particularly by the staunchly fierce CCH Pounder, and the unnervingly edgy Walton Goggins. (Both Pounder and Goggins are way overdue for at least Emmy nominations. Chiklis won one for his work during the show’s first season back in 2002.)
      On the other side of the "farewell to a favorite show" pillow, I can’t remember appreciating Samson any more than I did during the final two hours of the delightfully deranged BOSTON LEGAL. Nestled in my lap, snoring softly, with an occasional rearrangement of his body to remind me that he was there to provide solace, he comforted me as I unashamedly wept my goodbyes to the characters of Alan Shore (James Spader) and Denny Crane (William Shatner). David Kelley’s hysterically sensible series about a law firm that took on impossible cases, while palatably preaching a very liberal message, was first and foremost about the remarkable friendship between the two men that transcended affection, admiration and adoration...and became a weekly source of the reaffirmation of life itself. When Shore and Crane sat down on their law firm’s balcony for cigars and fine booze at the end of each episode, they brought a supreme stability of resolve and resolution with them, and in turn they allowed me to reflect on the few "very special" friends that I have been fortunate enough to experience during my existence. And in the warmth provided by my life’s memory logs as they burned brightly in mind, I found even further fortitude that during the final BOSTON LEGAL moments, with the presence of Samson, a feline friend of the highest order, was in my lap.
     He called me later that year, and we spoke for over two hours (with much of what we discussed winding up in a Men’s Journal article). During our conversation we shared the mutual depression(s) brought on by "our team." But in the end...we both fully realized that we were "Lions fans...’Forever!’" No matter how in the Hell long "Forever!" is.
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, December 25, 2008 issue.

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CINEMA SEEN - "Going All The Way Down To Get All The Way Up!"
By William Margold

     "There is no future if in the present we fail to pay homage to the past."
     And while it’s not exactly homage that Anna Waronker, Charlotte Caffey and Jeffrey Leonard Bowman pay to the early days of X rated entertainment with LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA---their demanding, dare I say "hard to swallow" creation is a "Little Big Play" resonating with aggressive and earnest energy, emotionally challenging songs, and a couple of remarkable performances.
     Director Ken Sawyer is "Fosse-sque" in his 90-minute presentation that conjures up images of "Sweet Charity" menage-a-trois-ing with "Evita" and "Jesus Christ Superstar."
     As America’s restlessness with the corruption of those in charge of its destiny fought its way out of the Sixties and slammed its way into the Seventies, rebelling against society’s mores was no more evident than by those who choose to make explicit adult movies that depicted hardcore sexual activities. And among those leading the way was a lady who would become known as Linda Lovelace. Essentially allowing herself to become the property of a manipulative man named Chuck Traynor...Linda became famous. And the film---DEEP THROAT---which she performed in---became infamous.
     Undulating with consummate evil, Jimmy Swan brings more dimensions of degradation and depravity to Traynor than I suspect the man himself possessed. Part snake oil salesman and part savior...Traynor was a man in the right place at the right time with the right product (Linda Lovelace)...and Swan resoundingly never lets us forget it.
     Katrina Lenk is achingly evocative as Linda, enduring Hell to get a little piece of Heaven, and is blessed with a voice that unashamedly unlocks the tear ducts.
     Whatever becomes of LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA and wherever it winds up...the production must take Swan and Lenk with it.
     For now however I am comforted by the fact that LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA has extended its run at The Hayworth Theatre thru Dec. 21, (visit www.thehayworth.com for complete schedule information), which will hopefully allow me to see the unnerving Mr. Swan and the luminous Ms. Lenk "at least" one more time.
     I would be ignoring my own past (and present) if I failed to mention my unique involvement---since 1971---in the adult entertainment industry---on virtually every level---ranging from actor to agent to activist---which, during its convoluted carnal course of actions and activities, placed me in contact with two of the major characters in the production: "Deep Throat’s" director Gerard Damiano and its male lead, Harry Reems.
     (I handled some of the recently departed Damiano’s publicity back in 1976, and then worked for him as a hardcore performer in 1989. My dealings with Reems took place in 1986, and again in 1988, and they were of a providing temporary help nature.)
     Because Traynor and Lovelace are such dominating characters throughout LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA, Damiano (Alan Palmer) and Reems (Josh Greene) are smartly rendered as caricatures, and thankfully provide some very necessary moments of comic relief. Very necessary!
     I would be denying my painfully accurate insight into the world of XXX, if I didn’t express the fact that the primary reason people (particularly females) enter the performing side of my business is for recognition. And if that means the bartering of their soul to gain immortality...then so be it. And as watched with that understanding of the fact that you’ve got to go all the way down if you to get all the way up in X...then you might come away from LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA (www.lovelacerockopera.com) a little less damning of the adult entertainment industry. But since I refer to the adult industry as "The Playpen of the Damned" that might be expecting too much from an audience of hypocrites "that jacks off to us with its left hand and then denies us with its right."
     I was invited to see LOVELACE A ROCK OPERA by an ebullient gentleman named David Bertolino, whose own play---THE DEEP THROAT PROJECT---will be opening in New York next spring (www.DeepThroatThePlay.com).
     Sort of validates my sentiment at the top of this page...doesn’t it?
     end
     NOTE: Originally published in LA Xpress, November 27, 2008 issue.

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