Elizabeth Taylor...honored for A.I.D.S. activism. A great lady!

Every time a big event - like PASSPORT or the A.I.D.S. Walk - rolls around each year, I am inclined to recall the compassionate efforts of Elizabeth Taylor on behalf of the cause.

Last fall, Elizabeth was honored with a Humanitarian Award by Macy's for her courageous AIDS activism, at a glittering gala event.

Although the much-anticipated event attracted a bevy of beautiful models, A-list stars, and Hollywood's power elite, it was Ms. Taylor - the mega star - who knocked the crowd dead when she appeared on stage in a coffee-coloured gold-sequinned Naeem Kahn gown and a stunning collection of dazzling diamonds consisting of fifty carats in all.

The legendary star was presented the award for her tireless devotion to the A.I.D.S. cause which has raised millions for research and delivered up much-needed aid for those suffering from the disease.

I vividly recall the day a few scant years ago when a room-mate directed my attention to a two-line report in one of the local throw-away newspapers about a mysterious "cancer-like" disease which appeared to be striking young gay men.

Within a year, newspaper headlines around the globe were screaming about a widespread "gay plague", which had been given a curious name by the medical community: "Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome".

In the early days of the outbreak, there was a lot of hysteria.

The country was rampant with fear, overcome by widespread panic, and at a loss to comprehend the complexity of the issues.

Initially, because the causes for contracting the virus were relatively unknown - and so little was known about the deadly intruder - those stricken with the disease were shunned.

The paranoia was so great - that even life-long friends and cherished family members - were afraid to hug or kiss the bodies of the afflicted.

The ignorance was astounding.

The United States government further shocked a disbelieving medical community when they stepped into the fray; in a bold-faced effort to "curb the disease", they implemented a ban on any individual who tested positive for HIV from entering the country.

Injustice and troubling discrimination were the order of the day.

On the sidelines, I struggled to boost the morale of those around me, infected with the deadly virus.

One long-time friend was so afraid of being found "out" that he stored his AZT in vitamin bottles - prompted by the disturbing thought that on a trip to the bathroom - a friend or neighbor might happen upon the evidence of his infection in the medicine cabinet.

Others were so terrified of being spied in the waiting room of an HIV specialist's office - that they travelled miles outside of the city for medical care - where they were faceless and unknown.

One neighbor made a pact with his doctor to have his prescriptions mailed by the U.S. Post to avoid physically appearing in the busy clinic office

The stigma of A.I.D.S. was far-reaching and frightening.

As I reflect on the issue, I am flooded with many painful memories.

One week, a pal might be healthy, then - the next - appear gaunt.

If anyone was caught off-guard and inadvertently stared at him - like a cornered animal - he would defensively swear up-and-down that he had the flu (so mortified was he at the thought of being "found out").

And, for many, there were the unexpected middle-of-the-night emergency trips to the hospital to halt a nasty bout of pneumonia - or suppress some unknown invader attacking the immune system - brought on by a host of opportunistic infections.

One known actor - who appeared in a film about drug smuggling - was so concerned that Hollywood industry-insiders might catch wind of his infection that he passed on treatment.

Although there were medicines available to prolong the young man's life, sadly - because of the trauma of dealing with the circumstances - he was incapable of reaching out for any physical, moral or spiritual support.

I recall with disgust that a model - known for his breathtaking looks and manly physique - was quickly abandoned by casting agents and theatrical reps when his ravaged body first showed signs of the effects of the disease.

It was heart-wrenching to witness the disturbing demise of a person in the harsh throes of the initial discrimination in the early days of the outbreak of the disease in this country.

First hand, I also witnessed the horrors of the killer disease.

One day as I walked into my agent's office, he confided in me that he had tested positive for HIV.

After reading reams of data on the subject, I tried to coach him on the need to reduce his stress levels, eat a proper diet, commence with available drugs to combat the virus, and make an all-out constructive effort to take rein on his life.

Unfortunately, he was unable to manage his own self-care in any capacity.

He drew up his will, and was resigned to die, in spite of my urgent protests.

In the final stages of his illness, I'd appear at his bedside each day to hold his hand and give comfort to his weary body, all the while inwardly praying for a miracle.

In the last days, it was heart-wrenching to witness his faculties wane by the second.

Only after the pain became unbearable, and a morphine drip was administered, did he finally find peace after his gentle spirit slipped away from us.

Yes, the early days of the A.I.D.S. epidemic were shocking, heartbreaking, and discouraging.

In fact, it was not until it was revealed that Rock Hudson was dying from A.I.D.S., that the world became painfully aware that the virus did not discriminate - and that it could strike anyone - man, woman, or child.

At this juncture, Ms. Taylor stepped in and began to fight for the cause.

Initially - when Taylor called old friends and business associates for financial contributions, telephones were slammed down on her ear - she recalled at the gala with a bad taste in her mouth.

If anyone had a lot to lose in pursuing the ugly task, it was Taylor.

The celebrated actress first arrived in Hollywood several decades ago when her father, an art dealer, opened a gallery in Beverly Hills.

No doubt, this is how the connoisseur of fine paintings was introduced to her first love: Art.

With the nurturing support of her loving parents - in a few short years - Ms. Taylor was under contract with Universal Studios.

When Universal Studios dropped her contract, she signed on with MGM.


She first captured America's hearts in classic films like "Lassie Come Home" and "National Velvet" (in which she co-starred with Mickey Rooney).

Mature roles followed; for example, she starred with William Powell and Irene Dunne in the perennial favorite, "LIFE WITH FATHER".


Then, she snapped up roles in "Rhapsody", "Beau Brummel", and "The Last Time I saw Paris".

Over the years, Ms. Taylor honed her craft, won the respect of the industry, and proceeded to nab Oscars for memorable performances in "Butterfield 8" and the film adaptation of Edward Albee's thought-provoking stage drama, "Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf".

Her personal life was just as glamorous and exciting!

Elizabeth Taylor's first marriage was to the dashing Hotel heir - Nicky Hilton - on May 6 (my birthday) at the tender age of 18.

Although the two were a handsome couple, the union was later annulled on grounds of mental cruelty.

Later, Elizabeth found true love when her paths crossed with film producer, Michael Todd. Although the union appeared to be headed towards domestic bliss, tragedy struck.

Originally, Taylor was to fly with Todd on a promotional tour for - "Around the World in 80 days" - but the young beauty was forced to convalesce at home due to a serious bout of the flu.

Later that night, the plane crashed; sadly, Todd was killed.

In the consoling arms of dear friend, Eddie Fisher, Ms. Taylor stumbled on passion once again.

However, there was one hitch: the famed crooner was married to America's girl-next-door, Debbie Reynolds.

Amid scandalous headlines, and the scorn of the American public, Taylor and Fisher were married.

That short-lived romance was doomed to fail because of a twist of fate no one - not even Ms. Taylor - could anticipate.

When Ms. Taylor was offered the role of Cleopatra, she was not interested in the part, originally.

On a lark, she informed the studio that she would accept the role, if she was paid the whopping sum of $1,000,000.00

Her jaw dropped when the answer came back from the studio: sign on the dotted line, please!

Suddenly, Ms. Taylor had the distinction of being the highest paid actress in Hollywood, the first to crack a salary in the six-figure-range in Tinseltown.

It turned out to be a deal more than she bargained for.

On the set, Elizabeth met and fell in love with gutsy Richard Burton, in spite of the fact each were betrothed to another.

Ms. Taylor was suddenly crowned the dubious title of most notorious seductress in the world!

To complicate matters, the production of Cleopatra was hindered with delays, setbacks, and sluggish, behind-the-scenes dramas.

The most costly film of the modern day ended up a surefire bomb at the box office!

Only in recent years has the studio recovered the losses.

Liz and Dick (as they'd come to be known) went on their merry way - the toast of the International Jet set - sipping on vintage champagne, munching on Beluga caviar, and cruising throughout exotic locales on luxury yachts.

The tempestuous fights were legendary.

But, the vulgar fabulous jewels Burton gifted her with, more eye-popping.

Only Elizabeth could manage to escape the curse of the 33.19-carat Asscher-cut Krupp diamond her insatiable lover gifted her with in 1968.

After they divorced ( twice) Elizabeth floundered - not only in her professional life - but in her personal sphere, as well.

And, the subject of her weight became fodder for comics on the nightclub circuit.

Was the most beautiful woman in the world becoming a national joke?

About the time one wondered what would become of her, Mr. Hudson's crisis galvanized her into action.

Clearly, Ms. Taylor needed a cause, or a direction in life, to put her on the path again and out of harm's way.

Her goal was clear: to find a cure and put an end to discrimination.

In addition, she engaged in a bold-faced compassionate effort to bring solace and comfort to those suffering with the disease, until those ends could be accomplished.

Through her arduous efforts, a spotlight was thrown on the dark corners of the epidemic.

And to her great surprise, supporters sprang from all quarters, to stand by her side in the fight against the killer virus.

Money was not only raised to fund vital research - but also provide hospital care, life-prolonging drugs, and out-patient health-care services for A.I.D.S. patients - who could ill-afford them.

Through her tireless efforts (and those of a handful of others just as dedicated) A.I.D.S. is now a manageable disease in North America.

Unfortunately, this is not so in third-world countries.

In spite of the wealth of the world, that goal has yet to be attained.

Is it within our grasp?

In my humble opinion - there is no reason today for any mother or child in Africa (or elsewhere for that matter) - to suffer, be denied access to emergency medical care, or die before their life expectancy.

Now, the fight must move stridently beyond these shores, to ensure aid is provided in developing nations.

It is my unfailing belief that we are each a part of the whole.

And thus - it stands to good reason - that we are only as healthy as the total of all parts.

Until A.I.D.S is under control worldwide, we remain unhealthy as a whole in the global community.

And so, the fight must continue.

And it can, due to the remarkable works of individuals, like Ms. Taylor.

Ms. Taylor has often been referred to as the last great Hollywood star.

Let's hope she remains in our galaxy for quite some time - shining brightly - so that we may bask in the reflected glow of her dazzling healing light.

And in the process, inspire each and every one of us to take up the cause, to lessen her burden and that of others.

Hillary Clinton...touts baby bonds!

Newlyweds and childless couples on the verge of adding a young one to the family, undoubtedly jumped for joy this past week, when it was announced that Hillary Clinton put forth the idea that every child born in the United States should get a $5,000 "baby bond" from the government to help pay for future costs of college or buying a home.

In her view, "...the account would grow over time, so that when that young person turns 18, if they have finished high school, they will be able to access it to go to college or...make that down payment on their first home."

Typically, Mrs. Clinton did not offer up any suggestions as to how such a program would be funded, or even estimate the cost.

In view of the fact about 4 million babies are allegedly born in the U.S. each year, the oversight is somewhat glaring!

I expect that as we head down the election trail, incentives will be offered up by all of the candidates.

For example, Fred Thompson may spring for free tickets, and a trip down the red carpet in the VIP lane, at his next Hollywood premier.

Barack Obama may lure us to the polls with autographed photographs of one of his major supporters, charismatic Hollywood star, George Clooney.

Who knows, maybe they'll throw in a weekend stay at George's Italian villa, in a grand prize extravaganza.

After all, votes are the currency of the day worth bargaining for!

Buffalo Springfield...for what it's worth

Heartbreak Kid...premier buzz!

There was a buzz in the air in Westwood last night...

As attendants rolled out the red carpet, the word was out that Ben Stiller's new romantic comedy, "The Heartbreak Kid", was being unveiled at the Landmark Theater.

Security was tight.

When I approached the entrance, a couple of burly bodyguards blocked my path, but they parted like the Red Sea when I flashed my ticket with instructions to admit.

The paparazzi swarmed the entire outside perimeter, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of Stiller, or at least some notable celeb to take a snap at.

In the lobby, ushers sharply attired, stood at attention, discreetly sweeping up the odd bit of trash which somehow managed to drift surreptitiously to the plush rugs underfoot.

Popcorn and soft drinks were on the house; modest offerings, yes - but zesty, nonetheless.

The atmosphere in the lobby was electric....

Pretty ladies in simple, elegant party dresses - usually a couple of inches above the knee, with a lot of bare shoulder and plunging neckline - chatted each other up; while their male counterparts - sartorially attired in monochromatic hues of black (occasionally grey) - scanned and sized up the power-brokers in the foyer.

Alas, a number of guests were a trifle disappointed when they were asked to take their seats after a Fire Marshal warned that lingering in the lobby was against local code.

For star-gazers, it meant there would not be chance to mingle with the celebrities as they were escorted into the gala premier.

With little fanfare, the curtain fell, and the film sprang to life on the screen.

Judging by the enthusiastic applause as the credits rolled, there were quite a few studio executives and production people in the theater last night, cheering on their talent.

The story quickly unfolded with a rapid-fire array of zany jokes spilling off the screen at breakneck speed.

In the opening scenes it was quickly established that Ben Stiller's character was a 40-year old man named Ed, yet to take the matrimonial plunge.

Egged on by his father, played by the star's real-life father (and a humiliating experience at the wedding of his ex-girlfriend to another man), Ed stumbles into a young beauty, pursues a brief courtship sans sex, and is suddenly married off before we can toss rice.

Heading down the highway to Mexico and a much anticipated honeymoon in romatic climbs, it suddenly becomes apparent to our heartbreak kid that something is not okey dokey upstairs with Mrs. Right.

In a handful of hilarious scenes - where Stiller's comedic timing is in top form - he is crushed to uncover his wife's sordid past...an addiction to blow, twenty-six thousand dollars of debt, and so on.

While most men would be thrilled to discover their new bride was a wild seductress in bed, capable of pretzel-bending moves not listed in the Guinness Book of Sexual Records, our conquering hero is mortified.

He confides to a friend he's been had, in more ways than one!

At this juncture, there is a bit of a lull, the audience becomes restless, and the filmgoer tosses and turns a bit in their seats.

But, when the missus gets badly sunburned, the tale takes an refreshing turn, the "kid" gets back on track, and everyone snaps out of their deep funk.

While Ed's wife is recuperating in their suite, our antsy Lothario is forced to fend for himself at the luxury resort.

As fate would have it, he falls for a young beauty from the States more suited to his down-to-earth organic tastes.

Suddenly, the whole movie shifts into high gear; there are complex, side-splitting moments of mayhem, mistaken assumptions, and turn-abouts that only Stiller's fine, comedic tuning could ever manage to pull off without a hitch.

While the film is funny, and Stiller commands with a captivating, charismatic presence on screen, the tendency to go for the toilet humor is his undoing.

"Heartbreak Kid" had the potential to be a classic, entertaining romantic comedy, able to stretch across the demographic; but the overly-aggressive bedroom scenes, which border on soft porn, stall the movie's widespread appeal from the get-go.

A couple of naughty visuals also register a definite no-no - in polite company, anyway.

Hence, the R rating.

For the most part, Stiller's in charge, at what he does best, but without gaining any groundbreaking, innovative, or artistic ground in the eyes of the industry.

In my estimation, the summer's blockbuster hit, "Knocked Up", was a much better film in the romantic comedy genre; if it's still playing locally, jump at the chance to spring for a ticket.

Sorry about that, Ben!

Peace Day, Los Angeles...Thich Nhat Hanh mindfulness walk!

On the heels of the atrocities unfolding in Mayanmar, which have shocked the sensibilities of the civilized world in recent days, Los Angeles will host a peace walk on Saturday, September 29th, 2007.

Citizens concerned about World Peace within shouting, walking, or sprinting distance, are undoubtedly planning to attend.

The march will commence at 9:30 at MacArthur Park and will be led by respected Zen Master, and honored Buddhist Spiritual Leader, Thich Nhat Hanh.

I attended the peace walk last year and it was an enlightening experience.

Shortly after the Master arrived at the podium to convey simple messages of peace, he led a contingent of young children out of the picturesque park along Wilshire Boulevard through traffic-free city streets, then back again.

The theme of the event was "peace" in every step, based on the Buddhist teaching of mindfulness.

According to Thich Nhat Hanh,

"Mindfulness is the energy of being aware and awake to the present moment. It is the continuous practice of touching life deeply in every moment of daily life. To be mindful is to be truly alive, present and at one with those around you and with what you are doing."

That day, each individual was urged to be mindful of each step planted on the earth, to breathe deeply, and focus on world peace.

As we walked for peace, there was an intense calm - and except for the occasional helicopter buzzing overhead - a profound silence which was sweet, beckoning.

Each foot - whether clad in leather, sandal, or humble sneaker - took a mindful step in unison with the other; with great accord, we were keenly aware that a mere second of life (we often take for granted in the throes of our hectic daily lives) is so precious.

When the sun broke from behind billowing clouds, and beamed down on the peace walkers, a moment of sublime joy touched each and every one.

The mystical event brought a smile to the face!

Thich Nhat Hanh was born Nguyễn Xuân Bảo in Thừa Thiên in 1926.

A graduate of Bao Quoc Buddhist Academy in Central Vietnam, Thich Nhat Hanh received training in Zen and the Mahayana school of Buddhism.

Ordained as a monk in 1949, he is now recognized as a Dharmacharya and as the Spiritual head of the Từ Hiếu Temple and associated monasteries.

According to biographers, he is the Elder of the Từ Hiếu branch of the 8th generation of the Liễu Quán lineage in the 42nd generation of the Lâm Tế Dhyana school (Lin Chi Chán 臨濟禪 in Chinese or Rinzai Zen in Japanese).

On May 1st, 1966 at Từ Hiếu Temple, Thich Nhat Hanh received the “lamp transmission”, making him a Dharmacharya or Dharma Teacher, from Master Chân Thật.

On these shores, some Buddhist precepts have baffled and confused the seeker in the modern era.

With this in mind, Thich Nhat Hanh combined his deep knowledge of a variety of traditional Zen teaching methods with methods from Theravada Buddhism and ideas from Western psychology to form his approach to modern Zen practice, popular in America today.

As a result, Thich Nhat Hanh has become an important influence in the development of Western Buddhism.

When Thich Nhat Hanh arrived in the US in 1966, his first task was to lead a symposium in Vietnamese Buddhism at Cornell University and to continue his work for peace.

For example, Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a letter to Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1965 entitled: “Searching for the Enemy of Man” and it was during his 1966 stay in the U.S. that Thich Nhat Hanh met with Martin Luther King, Jr. and urged him to publicly denounce the Vietnam War.

Dr. King gave his famous speech at the Riverside Church in New York City in 1967, wherein he publicly questioned the U.S. involvement in Vietnam.

Subsequently, later that year, Dr. King nominated Thich Nhat Hanh for the 1967 Nobel Peace Prize.

In his nomination Rev. King said,

"I do not personally know of anyone more worthy of [this prize] than this gentle monk from Vietnam. His ideas for peace, if applied, would build a monument to ecumenism, to world brotherhood, to humanity."

Without doubt, it is due to Thich Nhat Hanh's inspired method of teaching, and insightful interpretation of the scriptures, that the truth of the Masters is understood in remarkable, simplistic ways.

One of my favorite quotes,

"Looking deeply is to remove the frontier between our notions and reality."

Walk for peace, perfect peace...

Internet anonymity...who knew?

Monks in Myanmar...clash with junta!

Yesterday, I reported on the peaceful demonstrations by Monks in Yangon (Myanmar) protesting the repressive ruling junta...

Tuesday, in the wake of protests in recent days, the Government banned all public gatherings of more than five people and imposed a evening curfew in Yangon and Mandalay.

Unfortunately, as night fell on this predominantly Buddhist country last night, a number of Monks were under arrest for defying the Military ban on public assembly.

Before the melee began, eye-witnesses noted that the police fired warning shots, beat their shields with truncheons, and shouted to the protesters to disperse.

There were reports that a handful of Monks were beaten before being dragged off to confinement.

In an effort to effect calm and order, troops and riot police assumed positions outside at least six large activist monasteries.

Of course, the actions of the junta were outrageous!

When Spiritual Leaders are not treated with dignity and respect, or permitted to engage in peaceable assembly, there exists the kind of atrocity that can never be tolerated in a Civilized Society in the free world.

Although Mr. Bush met with the U.S. Assembly Tuesday and imposed stiffer sanctions against Myanmar (formerly known as Burma), it appears there needs to be a bolder call-to-action.

Citizens of the World are called to unite, and urged to implore their Governments and respective leaders, to address the issues now with the specific aim of ensuring that the serious rights' violations occurring today in Myanmar come to a swift end.

Peace, perfect peace...

Opinions of idiots...quote!

The opinions of idiots mean nothing to me...

Schwarzenegger flexes muscle...divest funds from Iran, now!

Governor Schwarzenegger announced on Monday he'll be pushing through a bill with the specific aim of divesting State Pension Funds from Investment Houses and Finance companies which do business with Iran's Energy and Defense Departments.

The sum in question may amount to a total of $24 Billion Dollars in assets, according to informed sources.

Schwarzenegger anticipates support from the voters because,

"California has a long history of leadership and doing what's right with our investment portfolio," the Governor assured the press in Sacramento, yesterday.

"Last year I was proud to sign legislation to divest from the Sudan to take a powerful stand against genocide. I look forward to signing legislation to divest from Iran to make an equally powerful stand against terrorism."

Two major State Pension funds are expected to oppose the move - in part - on grounds that divesting stock could cost more than $120 million in expenses for the State in the form of taxes, commissions, and the like.

A CalPERS spokesperson argued that the Fund can be more effective in persuading corporations to change their political policies by exerting influence as a major stockholder.

I say, nonsense!

I agree with Arnold's position that, "...the State should make a strong statement against terrorism by exerting financial influence of the Nation's two largest public pension funds."

As Americans, are we only prepared to take action against terrorism provided it is perceived as a financially sound move?

Even if divesting means unexpected expenses, additional taxes, and the imposition of commission costs - such action is bold-faced, vital, and heroic.

In this hour of uncertainty, it is important that we let our hearts and minds lead - not our pocketbooks!

Andrea Bocelli et Helene Segara, Vivo per lei

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad...quote, insane!

When Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (President of Iran) opened his mouth to speak at Columbia University on Monday, September 24th, quite a few jaws dropped.

In spite of the fact that most researchers agree that at least ten percent of the population is "gay", Ahmadinejad assured the stunned audience that, "there are no homosexuals in Iran - not one".

Why, did his regime exterminate each one?

And, while we're on the subject of extermination, it should be noted that he further shocked students, professors, and politicians alike, when he made the remark - matter-of-fact - "that the Nazi slaughter of six million Jews should not be treated as fact, but theory, and therefore open to debate and more research".

Quite frankly, I am at a loss to know how to respond to such bizarre notions, except to note that on occasion, silence speaks louder than words.

In the event Mr. Ahmadinejad is - indeed - one of the men pictured in the photo above, I am inclined to concede, "that says it all".

A picture is worth a thousand words!

Carol Burnett...bows out of fall stage production

Unfortunately, Carol Burnett was forced to cancel her upcoming stage appearance in "What's been bothering you, lately?" due to an unexpected family situation.

Now there's an old familiar face I haven't seen for a season or two.

Of course, many are familiar with Ms. Burnett's award-winning variety hit - The Carol Burnett Show - which aired on CBS almost perennially.

A handful of her television characters (such as the Charwoman and Mrs. Wiggins) wiggled their way into our hearts - and when recalled - bring a smile to the face.

The Carol Burnett Show basked in the limelight for 11 successful seasons.

Critics and an at-home audience heaped praise on the weekly variety show over the years which ended up winning 25 Emmy awards, 8 Golden Globe Statuettes and 3 People's Choice Awards.

Along the way, Ms. Burnett introduced an ensemble of fine, versatile character actors: Tim Conway, Harvey Korman, Viki Lawrence, and Lyle Waggoner - to name a few.

Each week, side-cracking skits, and a bevy of superstar giants - Rock Hudson, Art Carney, Lucille Ball, Jonathan Winters, Carol Channing, Vincent Price, Liza Minnelli, Paul Lynde - too many to name here, really - held a worldwide audience in its charming sway.

Burnett became known for her Tarzan scream which she often offered up when requested by any number of her adoring fans - usually at the Q & A at the end of each show each night - a signature moment on the hilarious Carol Burnett Show.

Each night, as she waved a heartfelt goodnight to her guests, she tugged on one ear - a coded message, of sorts, to her grandmother - to signal all was well.

Ms. Burnett's first taste of success arrived on her doorstep when she appeared on Broadway in the 1959 musical, "Once Upon a Mattress".

Then, she landed a plum assignment as a regular player on the "Garry Moore Show" which boosted her into the National spotlight, and later, International recognition.

I had the good fortune to rub elbows with Ms. Burnett on a TV mini-series.

The comedy was a spoof on glitzy, melodramatic Night-time Soap Operas - such as Dynasty, Dallas, and the like - set in (a drum roll, please!) FRESNO, the wine-growing country in Southern California. It was a real hoot, if memory serves me right.

I played a reporter slash photographer in the climatic court-house scenes where the plot sickened most...ha!

The production Ms. Burnett was scheduled to appear in was written by Charles Grodin, capable actor and former talk-show host.

The celebrated comedienne would have starred in the role of Ms. Michaels, a qualified life coach, specializing in couples' therapy.

I was looking forward to the production, weren't you?

I trust that Ms. Burnett will resolve her personal problems and be back on the boards soon!

Now an old familiar tune starts playing inside my head...

Carol, "I'm so glad we had this time together..."

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford...movie review!

When I first sauntered into the Landmark Theatre to take in "Assassination of Jesse James", I was unfamiliar with the events leading up to the demise of the notorious outlaw.

As the opening scenes unfolded, I was fascinated by the psychological facets of the intriguing tale.

A young gun idolizes Jesse James, slyly maneuvers to be within a hair's breath of his hero, angles for the role of sidekick, and then - when spurned like an unwanted lover - turns on him.

In adept hands, "Jesse James" would have been a taut, powerful, character-driven story.

Here, we're treated to a plodding, sloppy, throw-away vehicle for Brad Pitt which ultimately gets stolen out from under him by relative newcomer Casey Affleck.

In the role of Ford, Affleck - with one, suggestive glance - manages to convey what it takes Pitt a minute or two of serious over-acting to accomplish.

Obviously, the pop culture icon approached the role on the premise that "uneasy is the head that wears the crown".

His portrayal amounts to a rogue's gallery of oft-misunderstood glances, and the occasional searing one that hints at gears turning clickety-clack inside a shrewd, calculating head; but in the final analysis, each is devoid of insight or depth.

If there's a mysterious persona beneath the skin of Jesse James, it fails to register up on the screen.

One scene sums up the underlying theme of the film to a "t".

One lazy afternoon, Ford is bathing in a wide deep tub outdoors when he turns to encounter a gang member studying him.

At one point, during a brief conversation, the unshaven cowboy leans over and observes that for a guy who's small in the scheme of things he's pretty well-endowed.

Without batting an eye, Ford replies, "You here to look at dick?"

Ah, yes.

The film is about posturing, guys sizing each other up, and falling into line accordingly.

The big honcho that he is - Jesse need only bark "lick my boots" - and one of the boys would oblige, "Sir!"

Ford, at least.

In fact, there are so many curious meaningful glances between Ford and James, that one half expects the two to haplessly fall into each other's arms at one juncture and kiss. Yes, an underlying theme appears to be that the two were inclined towards latent homo-erotic tendencies.

Although the saga unfolds lamely enough on its own - to help things along - some genius at the studio concocted the idea to facilitate the use of a narrative; a clever (!) device to fill in the gaps (many!), head the audience in the right direction (did we care?), with the ultimate aim of dissipating the surreal fog that most assuredly clouds our sensibilities as the movie jogs along at a snail's pace.

Heck, even the gravely high-pitched tone of the narrator's voice grated on my nerves. Just awful!

When it came to casting voice-over talent the director couldn't even get that right!

Over the years, Westerns have transformed into a form of distinctive American entertainment.

Typically, a plot may fix on a gang of tight-lipped cowboys who shoot from the hip, ready to spring into action, nab the villain, save the homestead - whatever.

Heh, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.

The larger-than-life Western is usually played for keeps against a breathtaking expanse or captivating wild-west backdrop.

And, conflicts are often resolved spur-of-the moment in a drunken brawl or impromptu moment of trigger-happy deadly gun play.

In the final stretch - order is resolved - you betcha! Come hell or high water.

Film scholars point out the genre has portrayed much about America's past - exalted faded values - for instance; often taken a sacred bow to a mythical by-gone era in the process.

In a nutshell, a lot was accomplished by pure physical action - with a keen eye towards wild runaway stagecoaches, bold-faced on-the-run holdups, and determined lawmen in hot pursuit.

In Jesse James, the cowboys belly-ache a lot, gossip (oh, I forgot; women gossip, men discuss), and quite generally, chortle endlessly ad nauseam about this 'n that.

The whole Kit 'n Kaboodle slip-slides along about about as fast as molasses in January.

About the time the audience starts to flip out their cell-hones to check the time, yawn, or doze off like the guy seated next to me - the film embarks on a wide turn into an epilogue. By this time, the filmgoer is half asleep or too groggy from all the lethargic goings-on to snap out of the haze they've fallen into.

When the final days of Ford's life are revealed, at least it's a sign that the curtain may be falling down soon on the whole sorry scenario.

As one historian astutely observed,

"The Western film genre often portrays the conquest of the wilderness and the subordination of nature, in the name of civilization, or the confiscation of the territorial rights of the original inhabitants of the frontier."

"It is the major defining genre of the American film industry, a nostalgic eulogy to the early days of the expansive, untamed American frontier (the borderline between civilization and the wilderness)."

In sum, the Western may be the oldest most enduring and flexible of genres - one most characteristically American - rooted in mythical origins.

Over the past few decades, Westerns has been written off, resurrected, redefined, even reinvented.

Although the genres' popularity waned in recent years, it has returned with new vigor with the resounding success of the release of movies like, "3:10 to Yuma".

In the instance of "Jesse James", the filmmakers have managed to "Assassinate an American Art Form", the Western.

Karl Lagerfeld...fashion excess, Fall '07

A bellwether trend for fall puts the big focus on trench coats - in the menswear arena, at least.

Now that there is a nip in the air and storm clouds beckon from the north, outerwear function makes a lot of fashion sense.

The one in camel hair, pictured above, is an elegant addition to any man's wardrobe, and is easily mixed-and-matched.

But, according to Menswear Designer, John Bartlett, every guy needs a classic black coat in their wardrobe (2nd publicity still) with simple details which can be worn on a variety of occasions.

Throw it over a classic suit or team it with casual attire underneath without much angst over clashing patterns or styles.

The trend for eye-catching topcoats is splashing big this fall!

From simple, classic silhouettes, woven in traditional fabrics, to the very extravagant one by Karl Lagerfeld (Photo 3) above trimmed with animal skins.

If you want to avoid the ire of animal rights advocates, though, it may be wise to go with faux fur.

Some argue that if an animal has been bred for its pelt, that there is no cause for alarm; but the jury is still out, in my estimation.

Any wild animal on an endangered species list is a definite no-no.

In most menswear collections this fall, significant outerwear was featured prominently on the runways - full length, mid-length - you name it.

After hours, the ubiquitous attention-getter, was teamed with well-styled straight-leg dress slacks, topped with pristine dress shirts, or a myriad of jazzy, patterned sweaters to add a zap of color - some with viking motifs stitched in for an individualized look.

A couple of designers toyed with the idea of long over shirts, which floated out from underneath shorter jackets and waistcoats, to create an illusion of tails.

The daring may go one step farther and don the provocative offerings John Galliano unveiled in recent days. (Photo 4)

I'm betting only a handful of macho men will have the ***** to try to pull the look off.

Rolling Stones...Sympathy for the Devil

Into the Wild...middle-of-the-road film entertains! Sean Penn directs...

When I was 17, I attended a "free college" where students were permitted to determine their own courses for their degree programs.

In addition, the housing for the experimental school was set up in an ashram situation, so that the students were thrown together in a community-style setting so that aspects of the day-to-day routine could be incorporated into the learning experience.

For its day, the concept was novel and forward-thinking, and did much to formulate a number of my vital ideas about society and the human condition.

One day, a visitor to the College sat down next to me in the common room, and we engaged in a long-winded philosophical talk.

At the end of our conversation the gentleman (about fifteen years older than myself) took out a pen and paper, jotted down a few words, and then handed over the note.

As he strode off chuckling, I glanced down at his comments and was struck dumb.

After a bit of meaningless rambling he remarked in a somewhat angry tone:

"You are a product of the petite bourgeoisie, and until you rid yourself of the sins of your capitalistic parents, your soul will know no rest."

I was thunderstruck!

The words often return to haunt me; subsequently, to this day I often reflect on their meaning.

So - when the opening scenes of "In the wild" (Sean Penn directed) unfolded on the screen - the origins of the emotions of the Chris McCandless character were easy to fathom.

An innocent seeking the answers, he was obviously troubled by the emphasis his parents placed on "things" material, and the importance of outward appearances.

Without doubt, the young lad (fresh out of College) was also troubled by the lies and half-truths that his parents engaged in and the gut-wrenching surrealness of their daily existence.

It is evident from the get-go that Chris felt their value system was twisted; so, he hankered to wash his hands of it.

Understandably, he made a quick exit one day in search of the answers, to the puzzlement of his parents.

After an unexpected flash-flood shakes him up a little in the desert - he abandons his beat up car, burns his money - and strikes out into the wilderness.

He seeks a life without the ties that bind.

During a brief stint of hitch-hiking, the young adventurer encounters a handful of intriguing characters.

For example, on one comical occasion, he stumbles on a commune for hippies as he is humbly encamped next to a nudist-colony in the wilderness while working at a local grainery.

After making a pact to realize his dream of habitating in the wilds of Alaska, McCandless hastens to line up a job or two to earn some money, so that he can embark on his plans without delay.

Eventually, he takes his first unsteady steps into the great white North, then promptly sets up a respite in an abandoned bus near a lush riverbank.

Within a few short eventful weeks, it appears McCandless will grasp the golden ring he's been achingly grasping for.

For example, he sups on his own wild-life catch daily, ever-mindful of the delicate balance of nature and the need for harmony.

But - due to a lack of experience, stupidity, or an unfortunate miscalculation - our conquering hero gets trapped in the wilderness without warning.

Without ready food on hand, McCandless (this is a true story) tries to find sustenance in nature; however, after mistakenly gobbling down a handful of poisonous berries, his sad demise unfolds miserably before us.

There is nothing earth-shattering or innovative about this tale.

In fact, thousands of teens - boys and girls alike - slip away quietly (or run) from unhappy homes every year in America with the insatiable desire to find a better life, some answers about the meaning of it, or quite simply to get their bearings in the great scheme of things.

Emile Hirsch turns in a stunning winning performance for the full-length of this overly-long - at times - draggy film.

Yes, the up-and-coming actor manages to sustain our interest and hold his own, much to his credit.

The breathtaking cinematography and raw footage of the wild is worth the price of admission alone.

But some of the material is well-travelled, cliche - and frankly - dated.

Since Penn struggled for ten years to secure the rights to the story, it's easy to fathom why the tale fails to resonate profoundly; indeed, had it been produced a decade or so ago the impact would have been more resounding.

Penn's attempts at gimmicks and storytelling tools - with the specific aim of Hollywood-izing the film - are misguided, too; ultimately, the awkward efforts take away from the natural sweetness and simple truths that lie at the tender heart of it.

However - "In the Wild" - is enjoyable family entertainment; albeit, nothing particularly outstanding.

Some would label it middle-of-the-road - a popcorn film - at best.

First Crush...what was yours?

Woody Allen...on Ingmar Bergman! Film news...

Several months ago, celebrated filmmaker Ingmar Bergman passed away.

Essentially, he was a director's director.

Yes, many behind the camera were in awe of the auteur - including Woody Allen - who knew him personally.

The New York Times recently asked Allen to reflect a little on Bergman.

"I've said it before to people who have a romanticized view of the artist and hold creation sacred: in the end, your art doesn't save you. No matter what sublime works you fabricate (and Bergman gave us a menu of amazing movie masterpieces) they don't shield you from the fateful knocking on the door that interrupted the knight and his friends at the end of the Seventh Seal."

According to Woody, Bergman enjoyed the process.

He cared little about the responses to his films.

It pleased him when he was appreciated, but as he told Mr. Allen once,

"If they don't like a movie I made - it bothers me - for about 30 seconds."

After all, it isn't possible to always please everyone.

"So amazing were his gifts as a storyteller that he could enthrall an audience with difficult material."

Although some walked out, and claimed after a screening that they didn't exactly understand the musings, they were inclined to confess they were gripped on the edge of their seats during every frame.

Bergman's allegiance was to theatricality. Although he was also a great stage director, his movie work wasn't just informed by theatre. The innovative director drew on painting, music, literature, and philosophy, according to the die-hard New Yorker.

Allen calls the renderings on film profound "Celluloid Poems"; in particular, those that focused brightly and insightfully on mortality, love, art, the silence of God, religious doubt, and failed marriage.

According to the Oscar-winning director, in spite of the dramatic themes, Mr. Bergman tended to be warm! amusing! jovial!

And did we doubt it?

Not surprisingly, he was also beguiled by the ladies.

Well, the way he lit the faces up on the screen (and the manner in which he artfully revealed their inner heartbeat) says it all, in my estimation.

In spite of all his quirks and philosophical and religious obsessions, Bergman was a born spinner of tales who couldn't help but entertain; in spite of the fact he was dramatizing the serious tomes of literary heavyweights such as Nietzsche and Kierkegaard.

One of my own favorite quotes of Kierkegaard is:

"You are that which you are in the process of becoming."

Mr. Allen admits that like all film stylists (I love that term!) - Fellini, Antonioni, and Bunuel - Bergman had his critics.

Allowing for what he refers to as "occasional lapses", Allen notes that people who know film best, the ones who make them - directors, writers, actors, and cinematographers - hold Bergman's work in the greatest esteem.

In closing, Mr. Allen noted that when he was asked how he was influenced by Bergman, he replied,

"He couldn't have influenced me. He was a genius and I am not a genius and genius cannot be learned or its magic passed on."

Amen!

http://www.julianayrs.com

John Lennon...give peace a chance

Jody Foster...vigilantism is not the answer!

In the opening scenes of "The Brave One", it jars one's sensibilities a little to gaze up at the silver screen and witness Jody Foster's character passionately involved in ardent lovemaking with a man.

Over the years, Ms. Foster has tended to inhabit loveless characters bent on solving a crime - or in a humbler scenario - has characterized troubled women dealing with some earth-shattering dilemma.

Within a few short frames, it is evident that the titillating sensual scenes with her fiance are essential to establish the depth of her love in the relationship, a key aspect of the plot line.

Once squared away - Ms. Foster returns to familiar territory - strident, self-sufficient, and determined.

Foster plays radio host Erica Bain with a loyal following on the airwaves.

After a senseless brutal mugging in the park, Bain embarks on a perilous journey to avenge her lover's death.

The stirring violence-soaked tale is an echo of the Charles Bronson films of yesteryear.

In this incarnation, our femme fatale tempts the trigger finger of fate most assuredly, when she walks a tightrope in a curious friendship with a Police Officer.

The end result? A clever cat-and-mouse game which taunts the two of them!

Ms. Foster turns in a powerful performance with keen attention to every precise detail; in her body language, for example.

However, when she throws off a jacket to reveal toned muscle and butches up her walk with a bit of a swagger, there is a lot of whispering and speculation in the audience.

It appears that Ms. Foster's aloof persona off-screen has spilled into the movie theater. Now, the filmgoer is inclined to stare up from the footlights with voyeuristic fascination, and wonder.

As the final act of the film bolts forward - catching the audience off-guard - it occurred to me the spine-tingling thriller would have been more of a shocker if a cop stumbled upon the scene just as she raised her gun, then shot her.

In that scenario, the curtain would have tumbled down in one fell swoop in a shocking and disturbing manner, neatly tying up the loose ends on a couple of key issues.

The producers chose a safe haven instead, a cop out.

Yes, throughout the intense drama the audience is inclined to root for Ms. Bain.

Her brand of justice offers up swift sure closure in troubled confusing times. And, on the heels of cries all around that there is no justice in America.

But the truth of the matter is that vigilantism is not the answer.

The dictionary defines a vigilante as one who advocates the taking of law enforcement into one's own hands.

Likewise, vigilantism is defined as,

"The actions of a vigilante committee in trying to enforce the laws (law enforcement) or obedience to the laws."

The idea is a compelling novel one.

In fact, taking the law into one's own hands is a notion brimming with poetic justice.

But, in terms of the definition of vigilantism, the act amounts to murderous irony.

After all, those who would take vigilante action to ensure laws are upheld, end up breaking them in the final analysis.

Although - "The Brave One" - is just a film, the message it transmits to the younger generation is a dangerous one!

In a civilized society - vigilantism amounts to unjust illegal action - which can never be condoned no matter how tastefully served up on a silver platter.

TV Violence...up on Network shows?

Violence is up according to a Parents' Television Council study...

"The medical community agrees that exposure to violence is irreparably harmful to kids," declares PTC President, Tim Winter.

In spite of the fact the industry has been policing the Television airwaves by virtue of a ratings system, Mr. Winter claims that the actual V-Chip, as he calls it, is failing.

The Federal Communications Commission may crack down.

On the House side, a Telecommunications subcommittee previously scheduled a full hearing on the issues to review images kids are prone to catch on the small screen, in addition to programs featuring violence, and depictions of smoking.

Senator Jay Rockefeller noted,

"The industry will not stop showing violent content because it is so cheap to produce and incredibly profitable. To be blunt, the big media companies have placed a greater emphasis on their corporate short term profits than on long term health and well being of our children," Rockefeller said.

"I reject the notion that television merely reflects our society. I believe that television can and should be a positive force."

"For the sake of our children and grandchildren, we have a moral obligation to tackle television violence and arm our parents with the tools to make their children safer," Rockefeller said, "Doing nothing is not an option."

The Senator is likely to introduce his long-awaited bill giving the FCC the authority to regulate TV violence, though its prospects would not appear to be great given the difficulty in defining TV violence and a Federal Court's recent decision calling into question the FCC's enforcement of indecency policies.

The FCC's profanity rulings against Fox have been thrown out and its "fleeting expletives" policy as currently defended found to be "arbitrary and capricious" by a federal court.

The court said the FCC's "fleeting expletives" policy did not pass muster because the commission had failed to "articulate a reasoned bias for its change in policy."

"We are very pleased with the court's decision and continue to believe that government regulation of content serves no purpose other than to chill artistic expression in violation of the First Amendment," said Fox in a statement.

"Viewers should be allowed to determine for themselves and their families, through the many parental control technologies available, what is appropriate viewing for their home."

The commission can now appeal the the decision to the full court - it was heard by a three-judge panel - appeal it directly to the Supreme Court, or take another pass at trying to justify the policy.

While the court did not take up the constitutional issues as part of its decision, it spent several pages ruminating on how difficult it would be for the FCC to make its policy pass the First Amendment smell test.

In effect, the court made the decision narrow, but its opinion on the issue was broad.

For example, it cited Supreme Court precedent that broadcast media content regulation is subject to less judicial scrutiny than cable or satellite because of its uniquely pervasive character, an argument the networks said has outlived the reality of a crowded media marketplace.

The court said in the face of that precedent it could not change that policy.

"Nevertheless," it added, "we would be remiss not to observe that it is increasingly difficult to describe the broadcast media as uniquely pervasive and uniquely accessible to children, and at some point in the future, strict scrutiny may properly apply in the context of regulating broadcast television."

Macho romantics...pass the brewskie!

Ryan Seacrest...wins "me" award!

Last night in Tinseltown, Ryan Seacrest nabbed the prestigious, honorary "It's all about me" award at the annual Emmy blow-out in Hollywood.

It was a close call for Seacrest.

Originally, it didn't look like he'd land the ubiquitous gig, as he trotted nose to nose alongside another dark horse to the finishing line for the honors.

Seacrest eventually pulled through, then promptly ordered up a top-of-the-line penguin suit, to adorn his precious bod at the Industry's glitzy tribute to excellence in Television.

The American Idol (in his own mind, anyway) kibitzed with the best of 'em on a plush, red-carpet - in a teaser-style pre-show - for nigh on four hours!

Yeah, he commingled, and gabbed - canoodled, too - the whole nine yards.

So much so, that when the curtain was raised for the prime time event, the quirky TV Celeb had a problem ejaculating - er - delivering the goods he'd been hired for!

A guest in the wings overheard Seacrest utter, "Je suis fatigue", as he flopped into an over-sized, stuffed armchair backstage.

Of course, as french linguists know, this translates to, "I'm tired".

Yeah, that was the general consensus.

There's an old Hollywood saying, "if they're staring at your feet, instead of your exquisite face, you're in trouble."

As if to beg the question, Seacrest embarked on a surreal kind of foot fetish - yes, he had the audacity to fawn over Eva Longoria's designer shoes!

Ho, hum!

Network Execs at Fox would be wise to slip Seacrest a pair of spanking-new ruby-red-slippers, then banish him to Kansas, huh Dorothy?

A banter with "Boston Legal’s" William Shatner didn't fare much better; as one caustic industry-insider noted - "not comedy gold" - either.

Mr. Seacrest, you've got a great face for radio! (hint hint)

The "It's all about me" statuette is awarded to the Host most dedicated to shameless self-promotion, who is quite generally devoid of any self-awareness, and more profoundly, lacking in any innate ability to shut the old pie hole when called for.

And of course, there must be an over-riding gift for mindless gab - usually wrapped fastidiously in 8-10 glossies of themselves.

Heh, contrats Ryan!

Very deserving...

Sally Field...awards jinx

Years ago when Sally Field rushed up to the podium to accept an OSCAR for her award-winning performance in "Norma Rae", an unadulterated moment of joy overcame her and she blurted out to the jaded Tinseltown power-players in the plush auditorium,

"You like me! You really like me!"

How could they not love a flying Nun, for heaven's sake?

Notwithstanding, that brief misstep has gone down in Showbiz annals as one of the most embarrassing moments in Oscar History.

Of course, many others run a close second.

For example, when winning for best supporting actress in "Julia", Vanessa Redgrave thanked Hollywood for having,

"...refused to be intimidated by the threats of a small bunch of Zionist hoodlums...whose behavior is an insult to the stature of Jews all over the world and to their great and heroic record of struggle against fascism and oppression."

Um, I thought this was an Oscar celebration, not a political segment on Sixty Minutes, Ms. Redgrave.

Then there was the outrageous, zesty moment when Cuba Gooding Jr., best supporting actor for "Jerry Maguire", bellowed out to the startled masses viewing from their idiot boxes at home,

"I love you Tom Cruise! I love you, brother! I love you, man! Everybody, I love you. I love you all. Cameron Crowe! James L. Brooks! James L. Brooks, I love you. Everybody who's involved with this, I love you. I love you. Everybody involved."

And who could forget the stunning moment when Sacheen Littlefeather sashayed on stage in Marlon Brando's stead when he won for best actor for "The Godfather"?

On his behalf, she mumbled to an astonished crowd,

"...awards in this country at this time are inappropriate to be received or given until the condition of the American Indian is drastically altered. If we are not our brother's keeper, at least let us not be his executioner."

Say what?

Then, there was James Cameron's ego-inspired,

"I am King of the World".

So, last night everyone held their collective breath as Ms. Field stepped lively to the stage to accept her EMMY Award for best performance in the Television Drama "Brothers & Sisters".

As she began to ramble, the audience started to mutter, "...there she goes again".

When the producers pulled the plug on the talented actress near the end of her speech, some thought it was due to her unfortunate political remarks about the War.

However, Fox issued a terse statement noting that the action was taken due to the fact Field spoke the words "God" and "Damn" in unison; for this reason alone, they asserted, the cameras zoomed elsewhere - leaving her in a lurch.

Oh yes, on occasions such as these, it is difficult to remember that Fox is actually a family network, with an ongoing mandate to provide wholesome, family entertainment to the American people.

Notwithstanding, it is difficult to fathom sometimes how it is that an actor - oftentimes paid millions of dollars to emote on camera, or on the celebrated boards in The Big Apple - more-often-than-not - has to struggle to make sense of a two-minute acceptance speech without p**ing their pants!

On this occasion, Ms. Field was unwittingly humbled by the elusive award ceremony "jinx" - known to unexpectedly descend without warning or sympathy - when an actor boldly stumbles up on stage with the bright idea to seize the auspicious moment to promote a social or political cause.

Most assuredly, as demonstrated over time immemorial, the ominous spirit of the jinx intervenes at that fateful moment, if only to ensure that said performer puts foot squarely in mouth.

It happens to the best of 'em, Ms. Field!

A piece of advice?

Next time, take a cue from Elizabeth Taylor.

When she approached the podium to accept an Oscar for her performance in "Butterfield 8" a number of years ago, she clutched her Golden Statuette graciously, then eloquently uttered two simple words: Thank you!

Now, that's class...

Kitty said what?...Morphing Kittens

Starbucks...look out!

Beverly Hills...water shortage, dahlink?

Sleek limos purr at the curb, while the tony set perch and sip exotic cocktails at trendy cafes Alfresco. Farther down the expensive landscape, the lush foliage sways in a balmy breeze on a picturesque walkway along the flats...

Beverly Hills, the land of milk and - uh - money!

Soon, there may be a blight on the horizon, though.

Watershed enforcers brought a lawsuit against the Department of Water Resources to protect delta smelt that get snared in treatment equipment.

In response, the Department of Water & Power has shut down pumps in Northern California that supply the Westside Cities.

Environmental Utilities Manager, Sharon Epstein, forecasts serious fall-out as a result.

A water shortage is the worst-case scenario.

So, her office is issuing dire warnings and advice on how to preserve natural resources.

"It is possible to significantly save on water by foregoing on the purchase of watering systems, irrigation devices, and new arrivals in the appliance department."

Experts recommend low-flow toilets and shower heads, for starters.

So, now the upscale moneyed elite are keeping a watchful eye on a potentially devastating situation.

And what of those well-manicured lawns in 90210?

An army of Immigrant gardeners may be spritzing with imported bottled water in the near future.

The thought reminds me of a scene on a Beverly Hills street a few years ago...

Apparently, as the rumor-mongers have it, Tori Spelling was parked at the side of the road, on a blistering-hot summer day, with hood up and an over-heated BMW engine steamin' away.

Out of frustration, and with no ready options beggin' close-at-hand, she allegedly poured the contents of her expensive designer water flask into the thirsty radiator.

Egads, you say?

Well, water is water, when you come right down to it - especially for the rich with oodles of moolah to burn.

Marc Jacobs...fashion, scary ragdoll ladies!

After the Marathon...achy moments!

Age Discrimination in Hollywood...movie passes based on age, race, gender

A few weeks ago, as I approached the theater to attend a screening, a young man rushed up and asked if I would like a pass for a screening of a film to be shown in Hollywood at the Mann's Chinese Theater titled "The Kingdom".

Sure, I replied.

I am prone to take in a few films a week - so when they're free - I'm even more enthusiastic!

Without much thought, I slipped the voucher in my pocket and proceeded into the 11th Hour (DiCaprio's film on the Global Warming).

A couple of days later, I dragged out the paperwork to verify the date, time, and location for the other movie.

As I read the details, I was a little disturbed by the contents.

First - the filmmakers instructed all moviegoers attending the premier to either e-mail their confirmation for a pass - or call an 800 number with the information requested.

Frankly, I wasn't upset by the fact they asked for my name; after all, common sense dictated that they probably needed it to identify me for their guest list.

But, I paused when I noticed they wanted me to disclose my race and my gender!

The one that really packed the punch was the notice that the individual making the reservation provide the age of the parties who were requesting seats.

The film company was limiting entrance to individuals aged 17-50.

I turned over the voucher to determine all the pertinent details about the film.

Director Peter Berg and producers Scott Stuber (You, Me, and Dupree) and Michael Mann (Miami Vice) apparently sat at the helm of this "timely thriller" which they described as,

"The explosive clash that happens when Middle East meets the West: The Kingdom."

Since the film was rated R, I understood the requirement that an individual be 17.

But why must a moviegoer be under 50?

Are they afraid that the violence onscreen may induce a heart attack? If so, what a presumption!

Or, that citizens over 50 may not be able to fathom the issues pertaining to terrorism, race, or sensitive political tensions in the Middle East?

If anything, I expect the elderly sector in America - through life experience - would have a better grasp of the realities than those their junior.

Of course, I'd hate to generalize.

So, the age stipulation was puzzling.

Maybe, studio didn't want to turn off a younger audience by seating them alongside a bunch of grey hairs with wrinkles in the close quarters of a crowded theatre?

Say what?

According to experts in the field:

"Most broadly, discrimination is the discernment of qualities and rejection of subjects with undesirable qualities."

Unlawful discrimination can be characterised as direct or slightly less direct.

Direct discrimination involves treating someone less favourably because of their possession of a legally protected attribute (e.g., sex, age, race, religion, family status, national origin, military status, disability) compared with someone without that attribute in the same circumstances.

Discrimination against the elderly American society has been described as maintaining a stereotypical and often negative perception of older adults. This negative and/or stereotypical perception of aging and aged individuals is apparent in such areas as language, media, and humor.

For example, such commonly used phrases as over the hill and an old fart denote old age as a period of impotency and incompetence.

The term used to describe this stereotypical and often negative bias against older adults is ageism.

Ageism can be defined as "any attitude, action, or institutional structure, which subordinates a person or group because of age or any assignment of roles in society purely on the basis of age".

As an ism, ageism reflects a prejudice in society against older adults.

The victims of bigotry and prejudice are generally referred to as minorities. This is not because they are necessarily fewer in number, but because they are deprived of the rights and privileges of the majority.

Ageism, however, is different from other isms (sexism, racism etc.) for primarily two reasons:

First, the individual may be ageist with respect to others. That is, they may stereotype other people on the basis of age.

Second, the individual may be ageist with respect to self, so ageist attitudes may affect the self-concept.

"We live in a culture that reveres youth. To be young is to be alive, sexy, and full of energy. To be old is to be 'senile', 'worthless', and having 'one foot' in the grave."

This is the attitude most often seen in modern society.

In general there are at least nine known major stereotypes that reflect prejudice towards senior citizens.

These include illness, impotency, ugliness, mental decline, mental illness, uselessness, isolation, poverty and depression.

This "discrimination" allows the rest of us to separate ourselves from older people and view them as less than fully human.

Curiously, reporters in a Time Magazine article had this to say on the subject of ageism:

"Ageism consists of taking a mere count of years as a gauge of a person's capacity and vitality. But the troublesome truth is that the higher the age the less it dependably reveals about the human being."

"The aged are a more diverse, heterogeneous group than any other," says Dr. Robert N. Butler, who is the Director of the National Institute on Aging.

Bottom line, do we want to be part of a "Kingdom" that bases its inclusion on race, age, or gender?

George Burns once said,

"You know you're getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you're down there."

PARIS JE T'AIME...film for romantics

A few years ago, filmmakers toyed with split images on screen, but the idea generally came across as gimmicky and was never developed to its fullest potential.

In "PARIS JE T'AIME", the producers have used the concept to great effect; inviting, juxtaposed images are used to introduce a handful of characters whose stories unfold on screen in a simplistic, easygoing manner.

In a novel approach, a dozen or so directors at the height of their game, meet the challenge of crafting small celluloid clips based on the theme of "love".

Some of the vignettes range from the offbeat to the hilarious and occasionally zero right in on the human Richter scale: excited hearts beat faster, reflective ones pulse more cautiously, while others brazenly leap out in pursuit of their undying passions.

In one segment, a chance encounter of two hapless city-dwellers results in a practical union of spirits; in another, a young woman craves a drug and succumbs to its sweet seduction, a ready substitute for affection when the stress of her life overwhelms.

For those who wax eloquently that everyone falls in love with Paris, a Vampire tale is obviously a metaphor for those seeking eternal life in the City of Lights.

In my favorite scene, a young artist passionately tries to connect with the object of his desire. Do you believe in soul mates, he wonders aloud; a naive young suitor enthralled with the very idea of love. Unbeknownst to him, the attractive stranger has difficulty comprehending French.

Yes, love is a language that does not always translate well, appears to be the underlying theme of the film.

Probably the most poignant segment unfolds when a postal worker from the U.S. (there are several American characters in the wide-screen release) wanders the picturesque streets babbling in stilted French in the inner recesses of her mind about the joyful élan of the city.

On a park bench - in a happy/sad moment which wistfully washes over her - a startling flash of insight descends on her: she complacently accepts how it is that she has "come to fall in love with Paris".

A number of familiar faces saunter across the screen - Nick Nolte, Ben Gazzara, Gena Rowlands, Steven Buscemi, Bob Hoskins, for instance - and voyeurs, that we are, we salaciously peer up at the screen with fascination as they spin their yarns with expert ease.

Directors adeptly handling their assignments include: Gus Van Sant, the Coen Brothers, and illustrious Wes Craven.

Bottom line, PARIS JE T'AIME is a visually-stunning film.

For romantics, a must see.

9/11 Tribute...the fray

Boys Town Pot Busts...Medi-Mari Laws challenged by Feds

Conflicting State and Federal Laws have put users of Medical Marijuana at legal risk and Landlords of clinics in threat of property seizure...

West Hollywood landlords, renting to Marijuana sellers, received notification in recent weeks from the Federal Drug Enforcement Agency informing them they could lose their property or face twenty years in prison, or both, if they continue to lease to the providers.

The communications stated in part,

"...this letter shall serve as notice that there is a dispensary on your property and you have now been made aware of it. You are advised that further violations of Federal Law will result in prosecution, imprisonment, fines, and forfeiture of assets (property seizure)."

One dispensary operator confirmed his landlord asked him to shut his operation down; reports from various media sources around the country note that managers from at least five collectives will close up shop because of Landlords' fears of DEA-threatened actions.

This extraordinary move by the DEA comes on the heels of years of failed efforts to combat the use of what they deem an "illegal substance" through standard arrests and raids.

In recent days, the top-drug-enforcement agency in the U.S. determined that hitting the dispensaries at the source and seizing the buildings where the activities occurred - was the best, most-winning strategy.

In view of this, some medical marijuana patients - who are legally entitled to use the illegal substance for medicinal purposes - fear they will have to resort to purchasing marijuana on the streets, where the quality is not guaranteed. And, also run the risk of arrest by undercover drug agents.

The focus heightened in West Hollywood, affectionately known to all the locals as Boys Town, when two owner-operators of medi-mari dispensaries were indicted on July 18th, 2007, by the DEA and the U.S. Attorney's office.

The Government's argument?

According to Timothy L. Landrum, Special Agent in charge of the DEA in Los Angeles,

"...these dispensary operators are no different than any other drug trafficker; they prey on people in our communities to make a profit. The DEA and our Law Enforcement counterparts will not turn a blind eye to flagrant disregard of our Nation's essential drug Laws".

However, the fact remains: there is a definite conflict between State & Federal laws which needs addressing.

For example, while it is illegal to possess, sell, or distribute Marijuana in the United States on a Federal level, in California a resident is legally entitled to use the substance for medicinal purposes.

In view of this, shouldn't licensed distributors, working within the confines of the laws of the State of California, be entitled to continue providing?

Although the Los Angeles City Council met with West Hollywood Officials in a sincere, good-faith effort to put a "hold" on the arrests until the issues could be resolved, local law enforcement stressed they would not bow down to the local or State Government, but continue in their raids pursuant to the mandates of the Federal Government.

In sum, this issue underscores just how convoluted and nonsensical the Justice system is in this country today.

Yeah, Reefer madness!

Eastern Promises...worst movie of year, insult to AIDS victims

Earlier in the week, the LA TIMES featured a behind-the-scenes look at David Cronenberg's new film - Eastern Promises.

Obviously the detailed account of a fight scene with Viggo Mortensen in a bathhouse scene was a bold-faced effort by the producers to create some buzz for the film prior to the Nationwide release on Friday.

The reporter, Gina Piccalo, duly noted that Cronenberg captured every clammy square inch of Mortensen's well-toned flesh as it was pummeled and slashed and slammed into the unforgiving bathhouse tiles by two clothed real-life professional fighters, turning an otherwise excruciating four minutes of film into a quintessential Cronenberg statement.

For example, in the Times article, the Hollywood director excitedly recalled that he told the actor he wanted realism and body-ness in the key scene, so that the audience would be challenged to really experience the intimacy of such violence.

Intimacy of violence?

Well, there wasn't much intimacy, or common sense, or realism - for that matter - anywhere is this big-budget clunker.

In fact, even in the fight scenes - if you really want to get down to the nitty-gritty - it's obvious to any fool the shots were cleverly orchestrated and edited with razor-sharp precision to ensure that the body-ness he referred to - in particular that of Mortensen's male organs - were safely out of harm's way.

Let me be the first to tell you...Eastern Promises doesn't deliver on any artistic or intellectual level.

If this is supposed to be a feature in the suspense, or political spy-thriller genre, then Cronenberg managed to break the mould.

All that's left here are jagged pieces on the movie house floor, for audiences to grasp at - like straws!

In fact, one critic's wild comparisons to the "Godfather" are ludicrous; after all, there is no brilliance on the silver screen here, no groundbreaking filmmaking, no magic.

How would that be possible without a quality, well-written script?

And, without any insightful, talented director at the helm?

In a nutshell, the plot focuses on a young woman who stumbles into a hospital bleeding, who dies in childbirth.

A copious review of her diary reveals that she was raped, and forced into prostitution and drugs, by the nefarious Russian Mafia in London.

Heady stuff!

In an effort to save the child, Naomi Watts' character is forced to pursue the matter, and does so - albeit - hesitantly.

Although she holds her head high with some convincing acting, she basically goes down with the ship, what I would refer to as a ceremonial barge.

For starters, the dialogue is stilted, off its mark, and downright cliche.

Because Mortensen has delivered high-caliber performances on screen numerous occasions in the past - it is somewhat disappointing to find a shell of his former acting self - trussed up thick in this turkey...the worst movie of the year.

For all the brouhaha in the press, the film is a total washout!

Quintessential statement? Bull****.

Notwithstanding, the twisted tale's obvious flaws, it manages to go one step farther and takes a swipe a class of people who did not deserve the slap in the face.

For instance, when the Chauffeur played by Mortensen is asked to explain what lies were being spread about his son which warranted a gang-style murder, he offers up this little gem: "...they said he was queer".

Oh, gee, Then string him up by the *****, right now. He deserves a lynching, man.

Worse than that (If I didn't hear it with my very own ears, I wouldn't believe it) in one scene when the police arrive to test a lead character's blood to establish fatherhood, he gazes at his arm distastefully after he's been poked with the needle and mutters, "Now am I going to get the gay disease?"

That was not only a shocking, disgusting remark, but an insult to terminally-ill AIDS patients suffering from the incurable disease around the globe - and the thousands of health-care workers who toil endlessly on their behalf not only to prolong their lives but to ensure in their last days they are treated with dignity and respect.

The disgusting remarks, and the scripted messages in the plot line, were senseless, irresponsible, and ugly.

Which inspires me to beg the question...

Will the Producers admit their mistake and make an apology to the millions of infected Aids patients around the globe who were the target of their hateful innuendos for no good reason?

It is difficult to fathom how the Studio Execs overlooked one vital fact in the screening room: their film is a stinker.

Yeah, there's no originality, no clever or imaginative storytelling device, no nothing.

Eastern Promises?

That you will walk out of the Theatre offended, like I was.