SEETHING WITH A SORDID HISTORY both on and off the silver screen to rival the wildest passages of Hollywood Babylon, Beverly Hills’s Greystone Mansion oozes noir from every moribund pore of its cold slate walls. With its turrets, peaked roofs, grand vistas, and fifty-plus rooms covering 46,000 square feet, it is the stuff of Hollywood-style fairy tales (albeit one of those particularly nightmarish ones tainted from its start with the spilt blood of the mansion’s owner, who was found murdered alongside his male secretary eighty-three years ago). Since then, the estate’s scandals have multiplied
THE EVENING PREVIEW OF THE RODARTE SHOW BEGAN early Wednesday at LA MoCA’s bunker outpost in the Pacific Design Center’s plaza where all attendees had to navigate their way past the monolithic tent city that was being erected to host Elton John’s Oscar party mere days (now hours) away. It might have just been the cranes and forklifts plugging away outside around the clock, but you could feel the subterranean rumbling of the industry––half of the crowd beginning to rev up for the weekend’s bigger, flashier parties to come. Oscar buzz was beyond palpable, not only because Hollywood’s spring of
MAYBE YOU’VE NOTICED that James Franco has been steadily inching his way into the art world: showing up at high-profile openings, befriending artists, and collaborating with artist and filmmaker Carter on the art film Erased James Franco. Franco’s art-world trajectory reached its bewildering apex last Thursday evening during the unfolding of Soap at MoCA: James Franco on General Hospital, the latest installment in the fiction-cum-reality of his ongoing guest appearances on the classic soap opera as the mysterious handsome bad guy with a dark creative edge: “Franco” . . . the psychotic artist “
THE LINE OUTSIDE Hollywood’s Music Box theater last Sunday morning for the first ever Vampire-Con contained a smattering of the freaky, goth-nerd miscreants that one expects to see at a Bauhaus reunion tour or in a Tim Burton daydream. Perhaps the only difference was that these folks were less festive and inappropriately tanned by the California surfer sun.
There is something wonderfully Los Angeles about swarthy “vampires” congregating across the street from a sold-out performance of Legally Blonde: The Musical. A few teenage girls did their best to satisfy the fishnet-stocking and black-patent-leather