A '20s renaissance developed around Jake and his bookstore next to the downtown library and in his Echo Park digs. Later after the war Anais Nin, and presumably Henry Miller and Bukowski, hung around in the very same hills of Echo Park.
My version of the American female road trip is told through the lens of a makeup mask. I have internalized subliminal and explicit messages that tell me natural girls who don't need makeup are pretty, but those pretty girls naturally don't have unibrows and acne.
Bio pics can be a challenge for a filmmaker. The temptation to include too many elements from an extraordinary life is great, and can lead to a dull, episodic overview, rather than a riveting tale that manages to capture the essence of the person or life. There are exceptions, of course.
We plan years, marriages, trips, etc. We try to watch it with arbitrary numbers, letters and symbols for our own Western conscience. But life doesn't happen like that. Life happens in moments. Life happens now, passing in seconds, minutes and hours.
John O'Kane's at times rambling but nonetheless intriguing book length essay, "Venice, CA: A City State Of Mind," sums up the history, the observations, the artists and writers and poets great and famous and obscure who have lurked among the dark shadows of this Nirvana by the sea.
Aussie rock band Longreef are back on the road in support of their latest EP Dirty Motel. The band recently shot a video for their second single "She Likes The Ladies," the song being a crowd favorite.
My imagination ran wild. What witty thing would I say to Mr. Ginsberg? What will I do when he asks me to drop out of college and be his full time assistant? What will my family say? But how can I turn down such an opportunity?
Back in the day, the poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti was all the rage. Paperbacks of A Coney Island of the Mind could be seen stuffed in jean pockets on college campuses. Now 93, he is the subject of a valuable biopic by photographer and filmmaker Chris Felver
When Brazilian director Walter Salles finally got funding to make his movie of On the Road in May 2010, and asked me to be the first "drill instructor" at Beat Boot Camp in Montreal, I felt a heavy responsibility to see that this long-awaited opportunity wasn't blown.
In the "endless poem" of America, it is the spaces in between that mattered for Kerouac. Unfortunately, this film adaptation travels from one cliché to the next, skipping over many of the small moments that give the novel holy substance.
We sparked some tea and spit seeds onto the street, pulsing to the rhythm of the passing cars while feeling the ghosts of North Beach -- Kerouac, Ginsberg, Cassady, and the rest of our long-gone friends -- falling further away.
Why can't a film simply exist without trying to change the world? There are plenty of different kinds of movies, and in the chaos of awards season some wonderful, little flicks are completely forgotten.