Throwback

Nostalgia afflicts all of us occasionally. Sometimes we even feel it for an era we never experienced. I’m a fan of ‘40s noir, for example, and “miss” aspects of that decade in America (not the reprehensible aspects, of course) even though it was before I was born. Woody Allen explored the same idea in Midnight in Paris in which a 21^st century young man is transported to the 1920s Paris of Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, and Gertrude Stein. The feeling has more force, however, with regard to events we have experienced. I suffered (which is to say enjoyed) three nostalgia attacks of the latter kind this month. I recommend all three to varying degrees. For readers much younger than I, the three sources perhaps still can trigger nostalgia in the former way.

**** ****

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

Bad Times at the El Royale, directed by Drew Goddard (The Cabin in the Woods), is set (mostly) in 1969. Since Goddard was born in 1975, his nostalgia for the ‘60s has the one-step-removed nature of mine for the ‘40s. Nonetheless, he not only gets small details right, he more importantly gets the feel right, which most modern takes on the decade do not.

The El Royale Hotel/Motel straddles the California/Nevada border. In the 1950s it had been kitschy but fashionable and drew celebrity guests. By 1969, however, it has sunk from tawdry to tatty. The hotel has lost its casino license and nearly all of its customers. The clerk seems surprised when any show up at all. The several that show up on a single day prove more than he can handle. Jeff Bridges is an ex-con posing as a priest. He had buried money from a robbery under the floorboards of one of the rooms back in the 1950s. After Dakota Johnson checks in, she drags into her room a younger woman (Cailee Spaeny) whom she appears to be holding hostage, but things are not quite what they seem. Nor is the young woman. Another guest is Cynthia Arivo who has plans to be a solo singer after previously singing Motown backup. Chris Hemsworth (not a guest per se, but present in the film) is a dangerous cult-leader with charisma that Charlie Manson could only wish to have. A fellow who appears to be an obnoxious salesman is actually (not a spoiler: it is an early reveal) an FBI agent; the hotel, it turns out, has been designed to surveil on guests with microphones and one-way mirrors. The clerk, who has assisted with the surveillance, is a troubled man.

Bad Times at the El Royale unfolds leisurely for 2 hours and 21 minutes. This is not from sloppy editing however. Goddard wants us to understand the characters. We do, and we empathize with several of them even though all are morally compromised to varying degrees. The presentation is nonlinear: we get backstories for the characters in flashbacks and overlapping perspectives. Suspense interspersed by moments of violence throughout the movie keep it from dragging. Everything is helped by a first rate cast.

This movie is surely not for everyone – definitely not for anyone with only a 5 minute attention span – but it has something to offer for viewers with a tad more patience.

**** ****

Blues guitarist/singer/songwriter Samantha Fish still is more up-and-comer than veteran, but she is close to the border. Her style is retro in a good way, which is why audiences at her live shows are a jumble of ages from Generation Z to… well… me. She performs a lot of original material, but her choice of covers tells the tale. On her recent cover album Chills and Fever (which followed the Wild Heart album containing 10 originals) the title track was a hit for Tom Jones in 1964, “Either Way I Lose” was a Nina Simone number, “He Did It” was Jackie DeShannon, “Hello Stanger” was Barbara Lewis, Little Baby was recorded by the Bristols, and so on. The sound may be throwback, but it works.

Her act is worth catching live, which is what I did last week at Sony Hall in New York City. It was a sold out show and one of her usual fine performances with an opening by Jonathan Long. The one drawback was the 7:00 PM time, which on a weekday in NYC is a nightmare for traffic. By the time I got to the theater after battling rush hour and parking delays,  all seats were taken and there was standing room only. That was fine for me, but I’m glad I went alone and didn’t have to worry about an unhappy companion. One cranky patron groused as he passed by me en route to the exit, “I want to be comfortable!” It was the minority view, however, and if Samantha comes to your town I recommend dropping in and staying, whether in a seat or on your feet.

**** ****

After the Saucers Landed by Douglas Lain

The year is 1992 – an alternative 1992 in which Pleideans (as Lain chooses to spell Pleiadeans: probably just so he could snicker at someone who corrected the spelling for fictional entities) had landed the previous year. Their appearance and that of their ships are simultaneously reassuring and disappointing. Straight out of 50s-70s B movies, they are attractive Nordics in sequined jumpsuits who spout New Age philosophy. They shake hands with George H. W. Bush on the White House lawn. Ultimately, after the initial surprise wears off, the aliens don’t seem very interesting and so most people don’t take much interest in them. The Pleideans hint, however, that perhaps earthlings themselves determined the alien appearance and influenced the presentation of their philosphy. The novel is full of affectionate pop culture references from the last half of the 20^th century, and most especially from the 90s.

I expected rather less of this book than it turned out to have. I expected lightweight absurdist humor and a parody of old cheesy scifi, but while there is some of that I mostly got metafiction. The parody, to the extent there is parody, is of current academic notions about culture in general.

The narrator of the novel is professor of English Brian Johnson, who both made and damaged his career by collaborating with UFO researcher Harold Flint. All their previous work seems to have been made meaningless when the saucers land. Brian renews his interest and tries to reengage Harold, however, when a Pleidean woman named Asket assumes the persona of his wife Virginia. All the Pleideans, it seems, are able to assume other identities and actually to switch bodies. Identity, Asket explains, is just a matter of thought. The universe is “imaginary.” Brian begins to believe there something dangerous in the Pleideans’ airy message. He fears for his own identity.

After the Saucers Landed does have a plot. There is a story arc from a start to a finish, but along the way there is much philosophizing of the sort one is likely to hear most often in a college dorm – especially if enhanced by certain herbal applications. If you don’t mind this (or might even be nostalgic for it), Lain’s book will be enjoyable enough. Besides, the 90s were a good decade even in an alternate universe.

Trailer for Bad Times at the El Royale