Kossoff, 92 Tate, 26

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edit to add: the reviewer in the New York Times says it’s not really a spoiler because your understanding of the film is contingent of knowing something of the impending doom of the Tate LoBianca murders. And I admit I both saw the very first screening at 12 noon on Friday at new fancy ICON place in Mountain View then started my week today with the 11:50 a.m. screening again. So here is my blow by blow recall of the pivotal scene: Tex sends the Small White Face woman around the back and then he and Red Hair come in thru the front, just as Cliff is feeding his dog; he lets the first can of Wolf Dog Food Rat Flavor plop from 3 feet into the plastic bowl and then fumbles with the second can and opener, which is crucial, it turns out. The dog, Brandy, is the first to notice the intruders but Cliff mistakes that for anticipation of the (normal) meal. So Tex comes in with a skinny handgun, with RH and close to simultaneous White comes in the back, with her knife. (A 4th Hippie Cultist gets cult feet and steals the getaway car, a big thing with a bad muffler — Leo/Rick/Cahill had run them off with a blender of ice margaritas, and is now in the pool, floating on a raft, with headphones on and listening to Red Baron song by Paul Revere).

So because Brad Pitt is tripping on the 50 cent acid dipped cigaratte or joint that Pussy had sold him 6 months before, he asks Tex “Are You Real?”
He says that he is the Devil and there to do “devil shit” that’s not verbatim. The Stunt Man mirrors his pose with his finger as a fake gun, like a standoff. Then he gets a glimmer of recognition from their meeting months before and starts to crack up and ask “Rex?” and White Face gets flustered and yells at “Tex”. All of it adds up now to the wasted Hero (in the previous encounter he was in a gauntlet of 20 screaming cultists and then beat the crap out of the one who slashed his tire and rolled off just as Tex was coming back on a horse). So he signals Brandy with a signature click sound and the dog lunges and Tex and takes him down by the gun-hand, effectively disarming him, then later we see he has him by the crotch. I’m a little hazy, naturally enough but I think next White charges him with her knife and Pitt handily beans her so to speak with the dog food can — lucky he had not emptied it! I think he also signals Brandy to switch to one of the other attackers, its kind of a blur. But Red rises and charges Cliff and takes him down near the fire place and it is revealed that she has sunk her knife into his hip, anterior. Cliff taps it a big, the handle and ponders his luck or relative lack. But he recoves enough to pound her head into various surfaces about a dozen blows. Then white recovers enough to grab and discharge the gun, which scares off Brandy (although at first I worried the dog had been gunned down – and I definitely flashed to Coen Brothers No Country and Brolin versus drug dealer dog, however that plays out).

White Face, maybe hopped up on something, runs thru the glass door and tumbles to the pool deck, shards in her face, and then the pool. The splash stuns Rick who has heretofore been deep in a drunker music floating experience. The water diffuses the blood, and she rises to the surface and starts shooting again, towards the gods, not the movie star.

Hollywood now swingin’

He gets out of the water and retrieves his flame-thrower (the one he used in the WWII action film, and trained 3 hours a day for 2 weeks to handle). He subdues what was left of his assailant, and then the first responders get there and it is revealed in case we were worried that Brad Pitt had merely passed out and not bled out. There’s also a minor bit of Action Fu by the star’s sexy but often sleepy Italian wife, who lands a weak right cross to white or red and then retreats with the dog to her bedroom until it plays out.

Cliff Booth and Rick Dalton, what I say?

It kind of also reminds me, now, of the fight scene in Coen’s divorce comedy, with George Clooney fighting a giant who has asthma. Intolerable Cruelty.

I didn’t stay for the music credits or the Batman coda. Rolling Stones out of time, Paul Revere, Joe Cocker, Simon and Garfunkel, some weird Manson Family acappella dumpster diving worksong stuff and more.

Also: Coen’s on the 1930s Hollywood, would that it were so simple stuff.

This could be Best Picture. Arguably QT’s finest.

Somewhere it said Burt Reynolds and Hal Needham I think, but I also thought of Chuck Conner of the Dodgers.
There’s also an indie band called Spawn Ranch or Spahn Ranch.

I did not see Lena Dunham until the closing credits. Or Damian Lewis until opening credits of 2nd time. I’m hoping to see it twice more, with TMW and my fellow Dartmouthian the film critic blogger and logger Chris Knipp, the Knipper. Maybe up at The Grand Lake.

The backstory that a Hollywood stunt man could have basically thwarted the Manson gang is that the character was a war hero, maybe killed his wife, jumps from ground to roof repairs in three bounds like Crouching Tiger and tosses Bruce Lee hard enough to dent a car door.

Rick Dalton by Danny Cahill?
Cliff Forest? I was thinking Cliff Burton of Metallica.

The dog is called Brandy because he’s a licker.

and1:
I DON’T KNOW YOU BUT I LOVE YOU: It turns out this woman is in two of my favorite movies, one Sorry to Bother You by Boots Riley as the sexy elevator coach and then as the box office seller in Once Upon a time in Hollywood Quentin tarantino: I guess the connection is confined spaces in big movies on big screen. Kate Berlant. (Or halfway between Tate and Kossoff of my headline):

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Weegee portrait of Marylin Monroe

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At one point the famous actress was part of a proposal to combine NFL cheerleaders with the first down marker guys.

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Jewish ‘ire cookie’ vs Jamaican irie: or, Bow tie vs Bob Marley

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This is more likely a Jewish snack food than a black musician or a tattoed thigh or an abstract painting. Although maybe Jean the realist painter should make me one with everything.

My Jewish neighbor from LA, M- noticed my Cantor’s shirt and remarked that in her youth she would go by what to her then was a neighborhood joint and eat the largest available “ire kiegel”. I had no idea what she was talking about. But famous search-injun helped us suss. It’s an egg cookie chaped like a bow tie. I had not noticed, in maybe 10 previous visits to Cantor’s of Fairfax; I had sufficed with: matzo ball soup, corned beef sandwich, chopped liver, people watching, book about hard rock band, in that order. So, something to look forward to.

Not to be confused with, despite my tempting morsel of “quotidian in quodlibet”, the Jamaican or reggae word “irie” which, (and I admit I had to look it up and lively up myself) which means “feeling good”.

As in “I had me the ire kiegel and am feeling irie, Monday”.

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Of course Bob Marley was the ulitmate irie chap, for the first years of his life, maybe up to the grueling foot-cancerous end.

Dare I say “edible vs Oedipal” in the classic sense of a bad foot, or a bad joke. Brief history of Plastic Alto in seven botched posts.

Here’s to your next Jewish Bow Tie Egg Cookie, M- my friend. And mine too. Or my two.

file under: “lala” meaning Los Angeles and “ethniceities” which means Jewish.

This pre-empted what I started to write about art and words and “sex” (women’s, distaff, the second sex, first female POTUS, et cetera) and the Palo Alto artist Cheyanne Woodward and her use of typography and words that are almost legible but make you want to really try, in her acrylic on panel for example “Sorry To Bother You” or something, contrasted with a random picture of a woman’s upper thigh and about 50 words of illegible tattooed messaging (instructions, the maker’s chop, favorite song lyric –actually I knew slightly and worked with commissioned a perfectly reasonable artist from Austin who had a famous quote from and referencing a famous Goya something about dreaming the future of a dark world of monsters on her arm).

I drifted as if the Devil led me down the wrong path from researching a singer and her song to a blog about relationships to a social media catalog about fashion, to someone’s sad and not popular video series about her reaction to famous hip hop figures newest videos, to a successful young photographer in Baton Rouge and Atlanta — who shot presumably a friend imitating Megan Thee Stallion or so she said — in the way that you likley cannot read Cheyanne Woodward invented faux naive typography unless you peak at the title of the work.

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Maybe as I see more work by Cheyanne Woodward I will be able to recognize her script better, or merely memorize what I’m illiterate to. Over time, I mean

I meanwhile although dreaming of sugary and fatty treats had a salad of lettuce and tuna mostly, which I ordered with a fake Francophile air from a El Salvadoran with a British Christian name, after greeting my German yogi former neighbor. It was nice.

I think I also, because I read nametags, met a woman named “Auntie” or “Aunnie” and another woman named “Nisi” though she has no Aunts.

Also, and I’ve really drifted here although like Bob Marley he has dreads, I wonder if the person who donated a kidney to jazz star Dayna Stephens was the nice lady relative of his who worked for ABAG in Oakland I met several years ago at his previous Stanford showing and in residency.

Also, I have to look up if Ruthie Foster indeed played at Kerrville circa 2000 or I’m buggin’.

and: a couple days later I completed this with a photo, or detail, of a young woman from Baton Rouge vacationing in Cabo with a block of copy — words — visible but not legible on her right thigh. Her left leg says “Carpe diem” or maybe “cardi b”.

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Cheyanne’s painting says “sorry I’m late” or maybe “soy latte”. We met at Peet’s; she’s doing a poster for my September 13 John Santos concert; I found Chey serendipitous on the web— she’s a Gunn grad with an art degree from a school of the arts in Baltimore Maryland; she’s currently in a show at SICA in Sans Ho.

andand, Arnautoff in 1932:

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Well, this is unexpected: master printer Catherine Cain of Smith Anderson in a roller derby past Tresidder Terry TMW and I encountered after the Dayna Stephens show.

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Cheyanne Woodward’s use of type as

…compared to a long block of copy observable on a bathing woman’s right thigh….

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Irving Berlin’s ‘Dorando’ v Valerie Troutt w Maya Kronfeld ‘Dienda’

BF4E4481-C2D3-4BE7-A809-C0AD3C6D44C8.jpegIrving Berlin’s first hit was not “Alexander’s ragtime band” it was a ditty about the folk hero of the 1908 Olympics the Italian pastry chef named either Dorondo Pietri or Pietri (“Peter”) Dorondo,  Who won the marathon but was disqualified because he fell down and they helped him up but then the queen fell for him and gave him her own trophy cup and one of the officials was Arthur Conan Doyle who wrote Sherlock Holmes.

Whereas I am still obsessed even an hour later with the beautiful recording my magic handheld box is sharing with me of two people who were strangers to me until about 12 hours ago, Valerie Troutt of Oakland and Maya Kronfeld Of Berkeley.  I met them both after the Ruthie Foster show at Stanford. (Ie  this is my second post about them and their song ).

It kind of reminds me of Stevie wonder love’s in need of love today.

Stay tuned.

 

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Mario Dianda VS Valerie’s ‘Dienda’

 

 

Mario Dianda is a graduate of Bishop O’Dowd in Oakland who I met in 1984 when I was in a reporter training program at The Peninsula Times Tribune here.

“Dienda” is a beautiful jazz song that I just discovered 30 minutes ago, as a version with apparently original lyrics by the singer Valerie Troutt of Oakland who I met last night backstage after the Ruthie Foster concert at Dink, the Stanford Jazz Workshop.

In this version Valerie sings at a studio in Richmond four years ago, Bird and Egg, accompanied  by Maya Kronfeld on piano.  The song is by Kenny Kirkland but made famous by Sting (who  most definitely did not say that music is the child of black love or he didn’t think to say it, Valerie did – – unless she is quoting someone else).

I spied Maya dancing backstage in the wings I guess literally upstaging Ruthie if that’s possible;  but that is how I met Maya and Valerie in that I said, didn’t I see you dancing backstage, in the wings?

I didn’t recognize her not she me but Maya is friends with Allison Miller and was at our Earthwise Allison Miller Ben Goldberg not quite Boom tic boom show at The Mitch last fall.

Ruthie amazed me I was among the people who jumped up to give her a standing O literally a showstopper after her version of the phenomenal by Maya Angelou – by the way the record of that name was in my opinion Ruthie’s breakout and produced by my friend Malcolm Welborne also known as Papa Mali. Though I first met Ruthie and her friend Syd Cassone at Kerrville and Austin 20 years ago.

Also her Mavis Staples, also her original arrangement of Pete Seeger hammer.

Also her I’ve got the blues song which I heard on Mitch Woods’ record. ( and who do I think I am hal willner but I wondered about a medley or contra fact or mash up of Ruthie’s version of if I had a hammer and maybe Mitch and Taj’s version of take this hammer John Henry Spike driver blues etc. there’s also an interesting Wayne Horvitz version with 16 instruments and Robin Holcomb or maybe Danny Barnes, and Bill Frisell).

So I’m doubly blessed to have seen Ruthie live and met Valerie and Maya and then hearing their beautiful version of this song that is new to me, “Dienda”.

And yeah maybe it’s gimmicky to play the spy versus spy games —-what is Mario Dianda doing in the middle of my jazz essay? (Although I do think spy versus spy is an Ornette reference also or at least a John Zorn Wayne Horvitz liner notes reference).

But that’s how I roll here in Plasty. Mic drop.

Valerie and Maya are teachers at the jazz workshop but they should really do their own show. ( he says having apparently retrieved the aforementioned communication tool, yo).

If I bump into Jim Nadel again in the next couple days,  I will say just that.

My next step for jazz event assuming a skip Daphnis  Prieto and Taylor Eigsti, Is a pick up group next Wednesday night featuring Dave King of the bad plus Scott Colley but my hero Jeff Parker (Because he played in my music series with Scott Amendola recently Dash which reminds me and sorry to digress from “Dienda”  I keep thinking and maybe saying that Jeff Parker could work on a musical adaptation of the Sally Hemmings story by Annette Gordon-Reed — both from Virginia, Jeff and Jeff.

This is about Valerie, or maybe Valerie and Maya, let’s be clear. Yup, upstaged Ruthie Foster.

 

 

 

 

This is Mario Dianda — not sure if he knows anything about jazz but if you search Andrew Gilbert he wrote a nice story about Ms. Valerie for the Oakland magazine:

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Caleb Ewen VS Josh Zee

ok this is weird.

 

 

Josh Zee is the guitarist and leader of a band from 20 years ago on Sony called Protein or sometimes Prote!n, whereas Caleb Ewen is from Australia and Thai and won Tuesday’s Tour De France in a frantic spurt. Lotto Soudal.

The peleton reminds me of sperm fighting to impregnate the egg.

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Protein always struck me, so to speak as ejaculatory.

( and his follow up is or was The Mother Truckers)

i actually emailed back and forth with Josh Zee about the fact that the drummer of his new band Electrosloth, Joachim Spengeman is son of my professor at Dartmouth William Spengeman.

He taught at Claremont before coming to Dartmouth in around 1984 first a visiting professor

OK this is a weird part but I got a text right about here from my neighbor saying that the post man had delivered something to my wife but to her address and if I came outside right now should hand it over the fence that’s relevant because Mr. Spengeman grandfather Was the postmaster of Cupertino California. Sometimes a big about the fact that Mr. spank them and told me that he and his wife would drive across the country and read to each other while the other one drove how romantic and how literary. But I got on this kick because a lady in a small coffee shop or counter or stand in San Francisco gave me an album who’s collage cover was done by Spengeman three

I downloaded two of joshes records to my iPhone if that helps him get paid.

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They are playing Saturday night at the ivy room which I heard is really on the upswing. The previous owner had a very literary name of Mrs. MacBeth ,Dot, it’s almost true  What Mark twain would call a stretcher.

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Tom Harrell VS Keyon Harrold

They are both trumpet players one who is appearing in his hometown Palo alto for a rare appearance on October 24 at Mitchell Park no check that Palo alto Art Center  a Thursday a free show event vouchers available at Eventbrite, The second according to Andrew Gilbert in today’s Chron plays tomorrow at Black cat in San Francisco.

two cats who really blow, man

Black cat is celebrating its third year – it’s a different black cat. Earth wise is celebrating 25 years although in truth there was a Cubberley run twice a month for six years in the 90s and no I reset or reboot mostly at Mitchell park el Palo alto room sometimes known as The Mitch

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God VS God2: Alanis in ‘Dogma’ and Connor McDavid who scored 128 by age 23

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Hipped to this by LLD

B/W

Still sussing out whether any NCAA players have more combined touchdowns and goals that Shaun Teevens Of Dartmouth and or two CFL/WHA guys mid century moderns who dwarf Him.

 

and1:

Reggie Leach the First Nation / Flyer VS Reggie Leach a painter with bright palette.

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Rupa Marya VS Mayya

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