Harlan Ellison's Watching

Reading Harlan Ellison’s Watching (M Press, 2008 - reissue), I couldn’t help thinking that it must be exhausting to be Harlan Ellison. Despite his unimpeachable credentials as one of the greatest living science fiction / fantasy writers of our time (he has produced 7 novels, 6 graphic novels, hundreds of memorable short stories, and served brief stints on The Outer Limits, the original Star Trek series and the mid-80s Twilight Zone resurrection), he is perhaps best known to the younger generation as an outspoken curmudgeon who seems to fault with everything.

Over the years, he has made more than his fair share of enemies in Hollywood by speaking his mind about the sorry state of the American cinema, and his published opinions are gathered together in this omnibus of “essays in the realm of film criticism.” The goal of the essays, Ellison says, is not to evaluate films for their entertainment value or storytelling ability (though he rightly blasts Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 for its utter failure to tell a story) but as art and artifacts of our distinct culture. “No film is ever made in a vacuum,” he claims, “It is a murky shadow in the cultural mirror.” Suffice it to say that he doesn’t always like what he sees in the mirror, which leads to a fair amount of fire-breathing.

Ellison’s career as a film critic began in the late 1960s, with attacks on popular films that he felt were “lying” to the American public – presenting old-fashioned values that contradicted the zeitgeist of a new age. He hit his stride as a critic over a decade later, when he began railing against the mindless blockbuster fantasies that defined the children of the 80s. Throughout the decade, his criticism is unusually incisive – as when he points out an undercurrent of mean-spiritedness in a string of family-oriented films from Steven Spielberg (Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Gremlins and The Goonies). He responds to dishonest filmmaking as if it was intended as a personal attack against him, and does so with an always-entertaining sense of humor.

In his very first film review, he notes that John Frankenheimer’s The Train is “unlike much of what makes money these seasons” in that it “does not pass through the viewer like beets through a baby’s backside.” A few articles later, a lesser film “has all the appeal of attendance at a snails’ convention.” One actress receives a particularly harsh drubbing: he compares her singing to “the pathetic burbling of a titmouse drowning in a milk pitcher.” Entertaining as it is, one cannot say that the humor is lighthearted. Who else but Harlan Ellison could get so angry over Back to the Future? He calls Robert Zemeckis’s time-travel fantasy “flapdoodle,” “ka-ka,” a “piece of drippy dreck,” and “a celluloid thing as trivial as a twinkie.” His main reason for hating the film: “The lofty time paradox possibilities are reduced to the imbecile level of a sitcom.”

He’s right, of course. Even as a child I realized that the repercussions of time travel, as explained in the film itself, should be more complicated than the plot demonstrates. Such cop-outs, for Ellison, are symptomatic of brain-dead “sci-fi” (a term he loathes), and they undermine his willingness to suspend disbelief. Obviously, that was not a problem for the children of the 80s… but this comes as no surprise to Ellison, who dismisses most of that generation as “Know-Nothing Tots” raised on MTV’s sound and fury signifying nothing. With his trademark acerbic wit, he condescendingly instructs his readers on the lost art of satire, dismisses the silly pretentiousness of the auteur theory (Peter Bogdanovich serves as whipping boy in several essays) and lambasts the contradictory laziness of homage. At the end of the day, he is far more committed to criticizing mainstream American moviegoers than any particular movie. At times, Ellison’s writing on film sounds like Hunter Thompson’s writing on sports – it’s more rant than review, and need not stick to the topic at all. That’s the initial appeal of his criticism: entertainment. But, like Thompson, Ellison is not just funny – he’s also whip-smart, and leaves you thinking.

He explains his critical method as follows: Good criticism is comprised of four elements – background information, general knowledge, sophisticated judgment, and (above all) affection for your subject. The last component is visible early in the collection when he discusses the influence of RKO producer Val Lewton, who cemented his love of the cinema at an early age. Ellison explains, “When I draw my last breath, and finally buy it… I’m going to pass up meeting Hemingway and Shakespeare and W.C. Fields and Bogart and Marta Toren first thing on my arrival, and ask to be directed to the alabaster palace in which Val Lewton is spending a happy eternity…. Oh, yeah. He’ll be in a palace. Got to be. Nobody who produced films like The Leopard Man… could be treated less respectfully by a benevolent God.” Generally, Ellison praises “people stories,” “films that cast some new light on the human condition.” This, he explains, is what makes great science fiction / fantasy. (Think of Ray Bradbury turning Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio into The Martian Chronicles.)

Which brings us to what he hates... a list so long that we have to confine ourselves to hitting only the highest notes. Steven Spielberg – as well his buddy George Lucas – take the most lumps in Watching. Ellison’s essay on Star Wars is bitter, ruthless, and thought-provoking. “The characters are comic strip stereotypes,” he complains, adding that the young audience won’t learn anything practically useful from them the way he learned from the fantasy serials of his own childhood. This is a highly debatable point, but it certainly offers an interesting critical stance from which to approach the original film and its sequels… and, if one is inclined, the state of American cinema since the rise of the summer blockbuster.

The comparably few 80s fantasies of which Ellison approves are certainly worth another look: Dune (one chapter deals with the making of this commercially-disastrous epic), Labyrinth (“a film made by adults that renews and revitalizes the perception of the world we had as children, yet operates on many other levels”), Return to Oz and Star Trek 4: The Voyage Home (which Ellison claims is the best in the series!). I may not agree with everything he says, but I’m happy to follow up on the recommendations of anyone who can be both passionate and organized in their thinking… not to mention anyone who has spent as much time creating memorable stories as he has criticizing them. Like the best of the films he discusses, Harlan Ellison’s Watching is worth thinking and talking about afterwards.

While I’m on the subject of good criticism, let me also point you toward the latest issue of a very worthwhile new online journal: The Modest Proposal…

I Love the 80s: 1985

A few weeks ago, I was talking to a friend about growing up during a pivotal time for home entertainment. My childhood memories kick in around 1985 – the year of the updated Atari XE series and the first Nintendo Entertainment System. By then, RCA had discontinued its short-lived CED players, and VHS had won the marketing war against Betamax. My family experimented with all of these systems except for Betamax. Our first Atari game was “Jungle Hunt,” followed by “Frogger,” “Space Invaders,” and “Asteroids.” I still remember the day my father brought the Atari system home. I think he played it more than my younger brother and I did.

Our CED collection was never very impressive. We had maybe ten movies total, so we watched the same ones over and over and over – especially “Alice in Wonderland,” and “Return of the Jedi.” Within a year, we had graduated to VHS, and started recording things on TV at every opportunity. In no time at all, we had our own home video library. My brother and I continued to watch our favorites with fanatical zeal. I remember writing my own “novelization” of “Ghostbusters.” We collected trading cards for “Gremlins” and “The Goonies” (though Garbage Pail Kids were our real passion). I grudgingly admit that I know the words to all the songs in “Labyrinth,” and that I remember the main theme from Disney’s “Flight of the Navigator” (early electronica by Alan Silvestri). For some time, my favorite film was “Back to the Future.”

This weekend, I got to see “The Goonies” and “Back to the Future” on the big screen, at the New Beverly Theater in L.A. (Hey… better late than never.) It got me thinking about how much more likely I am to go see an old movie in the theater than a new one. Maybe it’s because I came of age in the era of VCRs?

My parents didn’t go to the movies much when my brother and I were little. By the time we were in school, they didn’t have to… On weekend nights, we would gather our sleeping bags, plug in the pop corn machine, and camp out on the living room floor in front of the TV. I imagine this might sound sad to those who grew up just a few years before me, and cultivated a greater appreciation for the theatrical experience. It was years before I knew the difference, but I loved those movies just the same.

Until this weekend, I hadn’t seen “Back to the Future” for years. My memory of it was pretty accurate, with a few exceptions… I don’t think I ever realized that Marty was sexually attracted to his mother. I understood that there was some tension there, but in my young mind it was one-sided. I was also surprised to see that the theatrical print did not conclude with the words “to be continued…” That, apparently, was an addition to the video release – one that prompted several years of restless waiting on my part.

I must admit: I still get a slightly giddy watching this film, just like I got slightly giddy a few months ago when I saw the Hill Valley square at Universal Studios. I considered taking a more elaborate tour of filming locations, but settled for a virtual tour instead.

“The Goonies” was sillier and more frenetic than I remembered it being. There were a few scenes that I didn’t recognize (the bit with the underground pipes and the scene where the Goonies take a bathroom break), and I realized that these scenes had been edited out of the TV version that I had watched repeatedly. I also found myself waiting for a scene that never came – where the gang discovers an octopus in the waters beside the pirate ship. It turns out that this was an extra scene shot for the TV version, to fill out the running time after the bawdier moments were excised.

Additional television footage was shot for a number of films in the late 70s / early 80s. I fell in love with “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” based on the TV edit. Granted, it didn’t include the most revealing images of Phoebe Cates and Jennifer Jason Lee, but it did a better job of fleshing out their characters. The TV edit features a scene where Linda (Phoebe Cates) offers frank advice about protected sex to her younger friends, and one where Stacy (Jennifer Jason Lee) emotionally prepares for an abortion. For some reason, the additional footage hasn’t been included on either DVD release of the film… so I say it’s time for an extended 25th anniversary edition.

In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for a big-screen presentation of the theatrical cut. It’s playing next weekend at the New Beverly, on a double bill with “The Last American Virgin." I suppose I'm atoning for the fact that I am a child of the home video revolution.

Now, if only I could go back and play the “Goonies II” Nintendo game…

The Valley

When we first moved to L.A., I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in the San Fernando Valley. Known simply as “the valley” to Angelinos, the moniker is synonymous with middle-class suburbia (remember "Valley Girl" with Nicholas Cage?) and the porn industry. Suffice it to say that the valley has a somewhat déclassé reputation, especially among its neighbors to the south.

I have a feeling that this has always been the case. The valley was scarcely livable before the turn of the 20th century, when a few ruthless businessmen bought up the land, and irrigated it with water from an aqueduct that was unknowingly financed by the residents of Los Angeles. (If this sounds familiar, it’s because the L.A. “water wars” served as a backdrop for the movie “Chinatown.”)

Once the aqueduct was completed (in 1913), the Valley was quickly annexed by the City of Los Angeles – much to the chagrin, one imagines, of city residents. The Valley has been growing ever since, becoming a city in its own right. Beginning in the 1970s, there have been numerous attempts at secession. In the 2002 city elections, supporters argued that Valley residents are paying equal taxes for unequal public services. Opponents to the south blocked the secession... but, despite the technicalities, the Valley and the City of Los Angeles seem to exist independent of each other - two cities, divided by the Santa Monica Mountains.

After a few weeks in L.A., we eventually settled in Studio City on the southern fringe of the valley. Most of our trips in the past few months have taken us south or west, but this weekend we decided to explore the north side of the mountains – following a map of forgotten filming locations.




Suburban Hell (the Brady Bunch house)


The Los Angeles "River"


Forget it, Jake...

We started in Tujunga, on a residential street that hugs the edge of the San Gabriel Mountains in the northwest corner of the valley. This was the location of Elliot’s house in Steven Spielberg’s “E.T. – The Extra Terrestrial” (1982). The forest scenes were filmed in Northern California (hence the redwoods) and the neighborhood bike chase was shot in Northridge, but Tujunga was E.T.’s home away from home – with the mountains out back and a nice view of the valley in front. The early morning fog was a nice touch.



Next, we headed south to Pasadena, to see The Gamble House, a genuine tourist destination that appears on the National Historic Register. Most people visit this oversized 1908 bungalow for its unique architecture… but not me. I visited it because it was Doc Brown’s 1955 house in “Back to the Future.”



From Pasadena, we headed east to North Hollywood, and visited two locations that only a true movie geek could appreciate. First: the 7-11 at the corner of Magnolia and Tujunga. This is where Lloyd Dobler’s first date with Diane Court ended in Cameron Crowe’s directorial debut, “Say Anything.” As they were walking across the parking lot, Lloyd pointed out some glass for Diane to walk around. Later in the movie she says, “I always think of that whenever people say ‘What are you doing with Lloyd Dobler?’”

I remember that because I watched the movie at least 8 million times when I was in high school. Like I said, it takes a true geek... someone who would make his girlfriend accompany him to a sketchy 7-11 in North Hollywood and snap photos while a homeless guy stares at them.



Next stop: The Fox Fire Room cocktail lounge on Magnolia Boulevard. This is where “quiz kid” Donnie Smith met the love of his life (a male bartender with braces), in Paul Thomas Anderson’s opus “Magnolia.”

I can practically hear the jukebox playing old Supertramp hits, while Donnie whines, “I have lots of love to give… I just don’t know where to put it.”

If you continue east to Reseda and go up a few blocks, you can also visit the electronics shop where Donnie absent-mindedly drove his car through the front window. A block away from that is another P.T. Anderson shooting location – La Iglesia Christiana Nuevo Empezar, which doubled as the Hot Traxx disco in “Boogie Nights.”





In the afternoon, we took the 101 to the far western side of the valley, and found that Canoga Park lives up to the cliché that everything in suburbia looks exactly the same.

This is also where we found Brad and Stacy’s house from “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” written by Cameron Crowe. Scenes set at the school were filmed at two locations in the valley: Canoga Park High and Van Nuys High. The front of Van Nuys is recognizable from the beginning of the movie.

Other nearby locations for this film include the Encino Little League Field (“The Point”), the Sherman Oaks Galleria (unrecognizable from the film, now that it has been converted into an outdoor mall), the Santa Monica Promenade (featured as the front of Ridgemont mall), and a coffee shop in Brentwood that doubled as the “All-American Burger” where Brad worked.





We headed back east, through Reseda, and passed by the apartment building where Daniel Larusso and Mr. Miyagi lived in “The Karate Kid.” It looks pretty dingy these days but, as I recall, it looked pretty dingy in 1984 too. (I suppose the point of this drive-by was not to scout a future place to live, but to celebrate the fact that we are living in the same city where some of my favorite films were shot.)

Another fan has compiled an exhaustive list of filming locations from "The Karate Kid," including Allie's house in nearby Encino.



With a proper amount of nostalgic thoughts, we headed back to our street in Studio City…

… which is currently the shooting location of “Bratz: The Movie,” starring Paula Abdul. Instead of turning on the TV, we just look out the window… and get a casual reminder of just how BORING production can be.

That said, I have no doubt that “Bratz” will be an instant classic, and that we’ll soon have movie geeks trolling through our own neighborhood, snapping photos and saying “This is where…”

Then again, maybe not.

Plastic Fantastic Universal Studios

This weekend, L. and I went to Universal Studios... which made me question whether or not I’m too old to truly appreciate amusement parks. When I was a kid, I loved going to King’s Dominion and Busch Gardens in Virginia – my family would buy season passes, and we’d go every other week throughout the summer. I was a little disappointed to find that, at Universal Studios, there is nothing to compare with the rollercoasters at King’s Dominion or Busch Gardens. The Revenge of the Mummy rollercoaster is too short, and the Jurassic Park water ride is tame by comparison.

The main attraction for me, of course, was the studio tour… but I have to say that I have much prefer self-designed tours of random shooting locations in and around Los Angeles. Just this past Friday, I went to visit a friend in Agoura Hills and made a detour through the neighborhood where they shot exterior establishers for Poltergeist. (The main house is in Simi Valley.) As I wandered, I could practically hear the theme song in my head. On the edge of the neighborhood, there was also a random shooting location from Phantasm. Being there made the movies seem more real.

I learned about these locations from a guy named Sean Clark, who runs a website called “Horror’s Halloween Grounds.” He writes: “When we as fans visit these locations it is not unlike returning to a childhood home we haven’t seen in decades. They hold a special place in our lives. A piece of nostalgia from a classic moment in time. Even though you may have never been there before, you feel at home.”

I saw Poltergeist for the first time when I was seven years old and my mother was in the hospital. That movie scared the bejesus out of me. I still remember sitting in a darkened room while the credits rolled across the screen, listening to that ethereal theme music and feeling completely disoriented, as if I was only half awake. I knew that the things that happened in the movie couldn’t really happen… but scary movies served as a safe, friendly reminder that bad things could happen. Oftentimes, when people ask me why I like horror movies, I think of that particular time when I was learning to cope with the realization that bad things could happen. Driving through the neighborhood of Agoura Hills (called Cuesta Verde in the movie), I remembered how real the movie had been for me when I saw it for the first time.

I had a completely different reaction to the Universal tour. The back lot made everything seem fake. You may be protesting: "Of course it seemed fake. Sets on a back lot are fake." Often, they’re just wood and foam façades – one or two sides of a building, with nothing behind them. This came as no surprise to me, but it was still a little disappointing to imagine some of my favorite films being shot in such a sterile environment.

Universal films have always been known for their grandeur. When Carl Laemmle founded the company during the silent film era, he aspired to create “the entertainment center of the world.” The studio’s first major success was the extravagant Lon Chaney feature The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923). They followed up with The Phantom of the Opera (1925), which necessitated the building of the first front lot stage (now known as #28). These two films became templates for the Universal monster movies of the 1930s – Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931), The Mummy (1932) and The Invisible Man (1933) – which kept the studio going strong through the Great Depression. Many of these horror films (as well as portions of the 1929 Best Picture All Quiet on the Western Front) were shot on the back lot’s “Little Europe,” which we passed on the tram tour. Sadly, the films were mentioned only briefly by the tour guide (“Hey look, there goes the Invisible Man…. Just kidding.”)

Despite the fact that the Psycho house and the Bates Motel loom large on the tour, they also got short shrift on the way to a much more “dazzling” sight: a suburban neighborhood devastated by a crashed airliner from the Tom Cruise vehicle War of the Worlds. We slowed to a crawl through that set, so I had to turn backwards to get decent photographs of Norman Bates’ home.

The tour organizers have obviously determined that most visitors would rather hear about newer blockbusters and television programs… Courthouse Square, made famous by Back to the Future, has been rendered unrecognizable for TV’s “The Ghost Whisperer.” The set on which Charlton Heston parted the red sea in The Ten Commandments is now little more than a storage place for miniatures from Peter Jackson’s King Kong. The home of “The Munsters” is now part of the suburban hell from “Desperate Housewives.” And then there’s Whoville… one of the most elaborate (and surely among the most hideous) sets ever created.

It was exciting to see Bruce the Mechanical Shark from Jaws in good working condition, after all the trouble he caused during filming. But then the tour guide gently informed us that this model of the shark was actually from Jaws: The Revenge.

That’s it, I thought, the bubble has been burst. Why mention a movie that nobody liked?

Universal goes to great lengths to immerse the casual visitor in the world of classic films – through the tour, interactive rides, actor lookalikes, and the constant blaring of familiar theme songs. But throughout the tour, I wanted nothing so much as to go home and watch the movies instead.

In the afternoon, we abandoned the amusement park and went to see the new James Bond movie. Somehow, this is the first time we’ve managed to make it to the cinema since we arrived in L.A. Even more shocking: This particular movie wasn’t a half-hearted effort at nostalgia. Daniel Craig actually manages to reinvent what had become a one-note character. (In my opinion, the new Bond has a touch of Steve McQueen.)

At the end of the day, I decided that I probably am too old to truly appreciate amusement parks - at least, the way I used to. I may also be too old to appreciate the current incarnation of the decades-old Universal tram tour... But I still had fun, mainly because I love being reminded of just how real some movies are to me. Even the actual locations and actors who brought a story to life don’t seem as real as the films themselves, because those fictional worlds have taken on a completely independent life in my memory.

That’s the magic of Hollywood.

The Hanging Tree - from "Phantasm"

Welcome to Cuesta Verde (Agoura Hills)

Welcome to Cuesta Verde (Agoura Hills)

In the foreground, you can see Universal's back lot. In the distance: Warner Brothers studio.

Universal Studios

... where you can ride the movies.


Brownstones, looking east

Brownstones, looking west

Church facade

Town square from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame"

"Little Europe"

"Little Europe"

After the filming of "Psycho 3," the house and motel were restored to their appearance in the original film. The oblong monstrosity above the motel is part of Whoville from the live-action "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"

Bedroom window of Mama Bates

The airplane crash set from "War of the Worlds" is directly behind the "Psycho" house

The Courthouse Square from "Back to the Future" (clock tower absent from the main building on the right), dressed for "The Ghost Whisperer"

Stage 50 is rigged for earthquake special effects.

Stage 55 is rigged for exploding cars.

Just in case you don't know, this is a hovercraft from Joss Whedon’s “Serenity.”

Our tour guide said that "Jurassic Park 4" is in the works.... but it looks to me like this franchise is pretty much played out.

This is why I don't have very many action photos. One minute, you're in "Little Mexico" admiring the view....

... the next minute, you're shielding your camera from flash flood waters that are headed directly for you...

It seems like every attraction at Universal Studios is designed to get you soaked.

Just when you thought it was safe....

Troubled waters

Bruce Almighty

Bruce gets hung out to dry

Nothin' says Christmas like a big blue monkey.