Spring Break in Slough; Thanksgiving in Torquay? Are you having a laugh?

VisitBritain has recently launched an effort to promote the locations of past British sitcoms as tourist destinations. According to the Times: "The tourism body, which had success last year with its campaign to encourage “set-jetting” to locations of blockbuster films such as The Da Vinci Code, says that 40 per cent of all visits around Britain are inspired by scenes shown on TV and in films.

The most visited places for comic nostalgia are expected to be Torquay, location for Fawlty Towers, Holmfirth in West Yorkshire, setting for Last of the Summer Wine, Turville in the Chilterns, the parish made famous by The Vicar of Dibley, Norwich, home to Steve Coogan's I'm Alan Partridge, and Cricket St Thomas, Somerset, the village where Peter Bowles and Penelope Keith filmed To the Manor Born."

Look: I'm a ridiculous Britcom nerd. I admit to being over-the-top addicted. If I didn't have a family to raise and a job to hold, I would certainly and happily waste the rest of my days away -- "Spaced" in front of the television -- watching reruns of Fawlty Towers, Give My Head Peace, the Mighty Boosh, the Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, I'm Alan Partridge and Black Books -- and that would ideally be before breakfast.

But here's the difference between me and the promoters of these tour plans: I was paying attention while watching these shows. I recognized that, in the original Office, a central theme was the characters' flailing inability to escape from the dreary life of Slough. Likewise, Fawlty Towers wouldn't have been quite as brilliant if it were set in an exciting seaside resort so that the inn might occasionally attract fun or interesting guests. (Okay -- "the Germans" would be funny in any setting, but that's just because of the funny walk . . . ) The show is better because Basil is stuck in Torquay. As a proud British citizen, he refuses to admit that it's not exactly the Cote D'Azur -- but that denial only further fuels the premise.

Point being: these spots are not hidden gems of holiday excitement.

I will say, however, that the campaign's website -- although sporting a very goofy design -- is actually chock full of useful info for folks like me, including links to where one can find comedy clubs and festivals around the island. I could have used this last time we were in London and I was whining to my long-suffering spouse that I didn't want to go to the Comedy Store OR Sohoho again. They even reference and link to the Blue Lounge in Thirsk -- which I might actually visit someday if only because I think that Greg Proops' "Back in the UK" was partially recorded there (though mostly taped in Sheffield and Edinburgh). And how about this description: "Giggling Badger Comedy Club, which opened in 2006, is one of the biggest Sunday night comedy clubs in the Midlands." (Please Note: In February 2008, a second Giggling Badger club opened at the Royal British Legion club, Melton Road, in Syston. This venue now hosts a comedy night on the second Wednesday of every month.)

Wow: the biggest of *all* the Sunday night gig venues in the Midlands?? Now you almost have to go, right?

It also has an index of outing spots organized by comedy hero. My favorite part about this index is that it links the reader back to pictures of the places mentioned. These show glowing pictures of the getaways -- all of them sunny, bright and cheery. Here is the picture they show of Torquay:












And, granted, I visited there once and the place certainly has charm. It's cute. Looks like you'd think an English seaside village would look. But, honestly, here is how I remember it:



That picture was lifted from the "boy was this a bad marketing strategy" Torquay webcam -- visit it and judge for yourself!

Note: no picture posted for Slough. We wonder why? Probably best summarized by the first stanza from the famous John Betjeman poem -- remember when Brent read aloud from it?

Slough
Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs and blow to smithereens
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town-
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week a half a crown
For twenty years.

Zoo Cruelty

My old friend Mark and I have a long-standing tradition of making regular buddy trips to the L.A. Zoo. It started many years ago when I bought him a zoo membership for his birthday and continued regularly during the rest of the years that I lived in L.A. On average, we'd visit a couple of times a year to see the new exhibits, eat Kettle Corn, gossip and generally catch up. It's always a fine time; but since Madeline was born and we moved up north, I haven't been good about setting aside time for it. I wanted to remedy that, so this last weekend we set a plan for a zoo visit.

Unfortunately, the temperature in Griffith Park on Saturday topped 110 degrees. More than 98% of the animals were hiding in their enclosures -- completely invisible to the slim hardcore crowd of sweaty tourists. Those few intrepid critters who did venture out looked like this:



Frankly, it just seemed cruel. To be fair, though, I think that photo fairly summarizes how I felt about our trek that day as well. I was wilted and weary about 10 minutes into the first loop; but my not-so-subtle pleas to Mark that we consider packing it in and adjourning to a neighborhood pub were ignored. For reasons that aren't clear to me, he veritably thrived in the swelter. Hours later, he was still like a Gila Monster on holiday at the shore, he was -- well, see for yourself:



It still baffles me.

Another hot night at the Bowl

My dear friend Apryl was kind enough to bring me along Sunday evening to see Thievery Corporation play at the Bowl.

Since the show, I've been trying to think of the words to describe their work, but their own bio for the Bowl show actually does it surprisingly well: "“Our deepest source of inspiration comes from our record collections,” says Rob Garza, an apt reference to their collective nom de plume. Always great admirers and curators of dusty grooves and all-but-forgotten music styles, THIEVERY CORPORATION borrows from the classically sensual and blunted sounds of their favorite Brazilian bossa nova, Jamaican dub reggae, vintage film soundtracks, and psychedelic rock to forge into new sonic territory."

"Classically sensual and blunted" are the key words here -- because on an already simmering evening, this was one seriously sexy performance. How else can you describe the mixing of sitar grooves, Perry Farrell, psychedelic projections, belly dancers and Seu Jorge? If you weren't swaying your hips at full speed, then you don't have a pulse. But, thankfully, that didn't seem to be much of a problem for the sold out crowd of young music fans from every ethnic persuasion -- coming together on a warm Bowl night for dancing, swaying and flirting.

Good call, Apryl!!!

Edited to add: Our friend Tano saw their show the previous evening in Vegas, and it sounds as though it was fabulous -- here is his review.

Joel Hodgson: still the sexiest man alive?

So what's the verdict? Can Mystery Science Theater 3000 work effectively before a live audience sans robots? Whaddaya think, sirs?


I was lucky enough to attend the sold out Cinematic Titanic show at the John Anson Ford amphitheater this past weekend and, for me, it exceeded expectations. Of course, a great setting always helps and the Ford is one of my favorite venues on the planet -- intimate, charming, fine wine list. Cool evening breezes blowing through the tall trees and reflections of the Hollywood Bowl fireworks on the stage. I really can't think of any place where I would rather see a show. The last concert I saw here was in September 2002 when we saw Minus 5 open for Wilco, which was amazing. The Ford is so tiny that I felt as though I was attending a backyard bbq at Jeff Tweedy's house and Peter Buck was going to tap the keg. . . but I digress. My point is simply that the stage itself added to the sweet and simple joys of the evening.

Joel and crew delivered a playful and energetic commentary to the alarmingly annoying "Doomsday Machine". Granted, "Doomsday" was rather easy pickins' for such an adept and accomplished crew -- but that didn't matter because picking the correct film for abuse is actually part of the challenge - much like picking the correct set of symphonies to highlight an orchestra's key talents.

And this is truly a talented crew, obviously coming back to their true calling. They worked from a prepared script propped on music stands which kept the narrative crisp and quick so the performers stayed well ahead of the many more obvious jokes that the movie brings immediately to mind. After all, that was always the triple charm: bad movie + joke I hear in my head + joke I didn't seem coming = spewing giggles. Of course I won't deny the warm feelings of nostalgia and the happy memories of Saturday mornings past; but this really didn't feel like watching an early 90s grunge band touring with just their old material. It truly felt fresh and full of glee. I considered the passing reference to "Manos: The Hands of Fate" to be a personal gift to me, wrapped up with a sparkling pink bow and sprinkled with sugar on top.

I hope that they continue to perform live from time to time. They obviously really enjoyed drinking in the laughter of a live crowd and yet it never seemed to throw their timing. Even the Bowl fireworks didn't cause them to skip a beat.

Tom Servo, RIP.

Crooooooooooow!

If you came of age during the carefree days of the early 90s, then you owe many happy Saturday morning memories to Joel Hodgson. Back when your hangovers were still rather manageable -- before Bill Clinton proved what an ass he could be -- before Comedy Central was a powerhouse with multiple hit shows -- and back when your "friends" still passed out on your couch every Friday night -- Joel provided a reliable source of snarky charm with his masterpiece, Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K).

Joel began his career as an easygoing, midwestern comic and (ahem) magician. Sporting the same sleepy, innocent-eyed manner we later grew to love, in 1982 he moved to LA and had some promising success with appearances on Letterman and SNL -- as well as his own HBO special. By 1984, however, he was already fed up with the Hollywood scene and the lack of fun, originality and spontaneity in the roles he was offered -- so he moved back to Minneapolis. He continued to perform stand-up and also took up sculpture and toy design -- building robots for fun in his spare time.



In 1988, Joel built Cambot, Gypsy, Tom Servo and Crow! and MST3K was born. No one had ever seen anything like it before -- sitting in front of the screen and making fun of bad movies? Joel has admitted, in later interviews, that many viewers didn't get the joke at first. It certainly caught on quickly, however, and essentially spawned its own unique form of interactive humor. The show also owns a small piece of funny history because was one of the first shows ever picked up by the Comedy Channel (early name for what became Comedy Central). The show quickly grew in popularity; but Joel left the lead role in 1993, when it he gave the reins over to his successor, Mike Nelson.

Hodgson later admitted that he only left MST3k because of creative differences with his co-producer and that he missed the show greatly. Finally, in October 2007, he launched a successor effort -- Cinematic Titanic -- which he operates with fellow MST3K alums Trace Beaulieu, J. Elvis Weinstein, Frank Conniff and Mary Jo Pehl. And this weekend, their happily reunited team will be performing at the John Anson Ford Amphitheater as part of the LA Film Fest. Myself and my friend tribe will be there to pay tribute to the man, the show, the genre and the memories.



As Joel turns 48 this year, what is his answer to the comeback question? I am hesitant to comment before seeing the show; but if the website is any guide, the answer is: simply keep doing what he does best. And that makes sense to me. There is no need to update this act. He is the master of his own subgenre -- making fun of bad movies was funny then; and why wouldn't it still be now? If you were KISS, would you undertake a reunion tour without makeup -- or without playing "Detroit Rock City"? Exactly.

FYI: I would be remiss if I didn't mention that his successor, Mike Nelson, also has a movie commentary site that sports a whole library of clever audio overtracks for old and current films -- you can find them at Rifftrax, and it is well worth a visit.

See you at the Ford!

xoxo, Rabbit