Desert Vistas

by Pa Rock
Desert Rat

It was a beautiful day for the drive from Luke AFB to Las Vegas. I anticipated that the jaunt would take four hours, but it was closer to six. The big hangup was Hoover Dam! Damn! Damn! Highway 93 North goes right over the dam - an old two-lane roadway that had tourist traffic snarled for about ten miles, or one hour. But, we were traveling so slowly that I was able to get some great pictures from the car! I think that I may stop there and look around on my return trip Sunday.

Things that I learned on the road today include the fact that the roadside cacti between Phoenix and Wickenberg are much healthier, and of a wider variety, than those between Phoenix and Flagstaff. The Giant Saguaro, in particular, are awesome. I learned that the small theatre on the main drag of Wickenberg, AZ, aptly called "The Saguaro," is currently playing Slumdog Millionaire, indicating that Wickenberg may not be as "small town" as it lets on. And I now know what a Joshua Tree is, and even got out of my car at one point and walked among several of them.

Las Vegas has changed a great deal since I was last here fifteen years ago. Gail and I are staying at the Tropicana, one of the older hotels on the strip. Tonight we went out with her son, Reed, who lives here, and had a nice meal and saw some of the sights. We caught the volcano erupting at the Mirage, went into the Venetia and watched as the gondoliers languidly transported tourists up and down the Grand Canal, and capped the evening off with a breath-taking view of all of Las Vegas from the top of the Mandalay Bay Resort.

Las Vegas is much quieter than the last time I was here. We heard that tourism is off as much as 40 percent. Many of the slot machines looked forlorn.

At the Movies

by Pa Rock
Popcorn Connoisseur

Last night while the rest of the world was watching the Grammy's or playing World of Warcraft, I was tuned into the annual awards show presented by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, also known as the BAFTA's. The Golden Globe Awards and the BAFTA's are two indicators of where the Oscar's may be heading later this month. My objective in watching the Brit awards was to see whether my unflinching enthusiasm for Kate Winslet's performance in The Reader was on-the-mark or not.

There was quite a bit of correlation between the Golden Globe winners and those who took home BAFTA awards. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were so ignored by both award shows that I was embarrassed for them. Heath Ledger was selected by both groups as Best Supporting Actor for his quirky portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Both groups also selected Mickey "old piece of meat" Rourke as Best Actor. Mickey looked slightly less stoned last night than he had been at the Golden Globes, and this time he was able to make it up the steps to receive the award without tripping.

Slumdog Millionaire won the Golden Globe and BAFTA for Best Original Musical Score, Best Director, and Best Picture. It was clearly the crowd favorite at the BAFTA Awards, eliciting screaming and yelling each time that it was announced as a nominee.

And Miss Winslet? She won Best Supporting Actress at the Golden Globes for her role in The Reader, something that I don't fully understand because she was clearly the star. That was possibly due to the fact that she was nominated for Best Actress for her role in Revolutionary Road, and the Globes did not want to put her in the tacky position of running against herself. She won both of those awards, by the way. The BAFTA's had no compunction against having Miss Winslet compete against herself (and Angelina Jolie, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Meryl Streep) for their Best Actress award - and she won - this time for The Reader.

At that point I realized that I knew just as much about good drama as a room full of stuffy Brits!

I have now seen three of the five nominees for the Oscar for Best Picture: Slumdog Millionaire, Milk, and The Reader. All three are outstanding. The other two are The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Frost / Nixon. I have been trying to forget about Nixon for decades, and will not be paying good money to bring back the bad old days. I also chose not to see "W" for essentially the same reason. I may try to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button if time permits, but if the Golden Globes and BAFTA's are reliable indicators, Brad and Angelina might as well stay home and play with the kids because Oscar ain't gonna go home with either of them.

I guess that's what happens when you dump on a Friend!

Slumdog Millionaire

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Okay. I made the maddening drive to Scottsdale yesterday just to see a movie that wasn't preordained to be drivel, and while I deeply resent having to drive across the Valley for the privilege of watching something good, the movie justified the gas.

I arrived in plenty of time to make it in to see my selection, Slumdog Millionaire. I parked my ragged convertible in a lot next to the one that was reserved for Neiman Marcus Valet Parking (just so you get an idea of what the neighborhood was like!), and with time to spare I sat out in the car and made a couple of calls. Each of the five movies at this theatre was an "art" type of show, so crowding shouldn't have been a problem - but it was. I bought my ticket fifteen minutes before showtime and learned that I would have to take a seat in the front two rows. Lucky me - I managed to get a center seat in the second row. (So today my neck is still stiff!) The place was packed with rich old toadies who were all there to learn about life in the slums of urban India while collecting cultural tidbits to be shared at cocktail parties. As it turned out, me and the other old toadies made a good decision in selecting that particular movie.

Dev Patel is an amazing young actor who has been a featured cast member in the BBC comedy/drama Skins during its first season. And while the face of this eighteen-year-old is becoming familiar to many viewers of British television, the role of Jamal in Slumdog Millionaire is destined to lift his star much higher.

Jamal, the central character in this movie, is a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. His run on the show is so successful that he is picked up by the police before the final round. The police beat and torture him to find out how a poor Indian with almost no formal education managed to get the answers to the difficult questions. In explaining how he acquired the answer to each question though his life experiences, Jamal provides deep insight into the lives of poor Indians in the teeming mass of humanity that is Mumbai.

Slumdog is the story of two brothers, orphaned as little boys and growing up by their wits, and an orphaned girl who becomes a significant part of their lives. This movie shows it all: pollution, corruption, cruelty, gangsters, fear, jealousy, sacrifice, and love - all tied together in the emergence of a modern state. As the characters grow, so grows the nation. It was easy to leave the theatre feeling positive about Jamal's future and the future of his country.

Slumdog Millionaire was a very emotionally satisfying experience, even from the second row!

Where Have All the Good Films Gone? Gone to Scottsdale Every One!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

A couple of weekends ago I was driving through Goodyear or Avondale one evening when a young man (high school young) passed me in a small red car. Printed across his back window in six-inch tall Old English Script was this bit of personal vitriol: "Fuck Scottsdale." It wasn't overly eloquent, but Shakespeare probably wasn't either when he was this lad's age. I assumed the boy had probably lost his lady love to some yuppie spawn in the East Valley who was born with a silver spoon up his nose.

The longer I live in the Valley of Hell, the more I come to realize how things here really work. The proletariat lives in central Phoenix and in the West Valley, while those who are not so frantic to make a living (including university students), gather in the coffee bars, art galleries, and outdoor cafes that border their comfortable neighborhoods in the East Valley. Later this month they will also have the Valley's first Light Rail which should help to lessen the horrendous bicycle traffic and save on valuable Birkenstock leather! (The West Valley, where the workers live - and necessarily drive - has been told that they can expect their own Light Rail in twenty years.)

But, I digress. My purpose today is to talk about movies. Recently there have been a spate of advertisements on television for what appear to be some really great films. The problem is that when I pull up the movie guide for a twenty-five mile radius of where I live, all of the films that are available in the local theatres are crap. The really good shows are beyond the twenty-five mile limit - in Scottsdale! If I want to drive twenty-nine miles (forty minutes) to Scottsdale this afternoon, I can see: Doubt, Slumdog Millionaire, Milk, I've Loved You So Long, or The Boy in the Striped Pajama's - none of which are playing any closer. The film distributors seem to believe that the intellect of the East Valley hasn't seeped beyond Central Avenue. People in the West Valley should be content with movies that they are capable of understanding: Christmas comedies, cartoons, and violent action flicks.

The more that I think about it, the more I agree with the philosophy of the kid in the little red car!