Review: "Ishtar" (1987)

A few months ago I blogged about movies about New Yorkers who travel to strange lands and get into trouble. Now you can add another such movie to your list, and this one's notorious, the 1987 bomb Ishtar.

When it was released more than 30 years ago, Ishtar become one of those movies that everyone loves to hate. You get them every few years: Heaven's Gate, Howard the Duck, Bonfire of the Vanities, Battlefield Earth, Gigli, and many others. They cost a fortune to make, stories of production problems and strife get into the press before release, the critics trash them, the movies tank at the box office, studio executives get fired, the directors and actors involved go into hiding, and the only ones who benefit are late night comedians (and, these days, social media folks).

It's a kind of sick thrill for those of us in the general public to see the people involved -- rich and famous and glamorous movie stars and power brokers who have more success, money and sex then we'll ever have -- suffer a massive public embarrassment. It's schadenfreude for the great unwashed.  

But what about the movie? Well, that's were it gets interesting. 

Ishtar is about two extremely untalented and clueless NYC musicians played by Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty who get a gig playing in Ishtar -- a country near the Moroccan border -- and who bumble their way into getting involved with the CIA, terrorists, archaeologists, and a hot chick. It's an extremely silly movie, totally ludicrous, and sometimes the storytelling is clunky and the tone of the movie inconsistent.

But here's the thing: Ishtar is FUNNY! Like, REALLY funny. Like, tears in the eyes funny. Ultimately, that's what a comedy is about: making people laugh, and this movie made my wife and I laugh a lot. So, in my view, Ishtar is a sucessful comedy, and I'm not the only one who, 30+ years later, has seen it and thinks this.

Ishtar bombed for several reasons: first, there was a behind the scenes smear campaign launched by the studio that produced it since a new regime has come in after production had started -- and the new regime wanted to embarrass the old regime by making it fail, and also to embarrass Beatty and Hoffman who had difficult reputations. Also, the director, Elaine May, had a difficult reputation, and the studio wanted to embarrass her. Second, the movie suffered from the fact that it was an extremely silly movie (it was based on the old 1940's Hope & Crosby "Road" movies) starring two "serious" actors whose previous movies had been Reds and Death of a Salesman -- seeing Beatty and Hoffman in this zany comedy was probably disorienting for critics and audiences (as it was for me). Third, and finally, the comedy in Ishtar is way ahead of it's time. It's cringe humor, its existentiallist humor, it's not the kind of Police Academy comedy that was popular at the time. Audiences weren't ready for it yet.

So you should give Ishtar a chance -- it's not the greatest comedy by a long shot but it's very funny and lighthearted. These days, we need that comedy more now than ever.

Gotta Love New Yorkers

So yesterday someone crashed a helicopter on top of a building in Midtown and a street in Brooklyn was named for the late rapper Notorious B.I.G.

And that, kids, is why NYC is and forever shall be a crazy place to live!

Ali Stroker Makes Tony History

The Fall of Class

So this week the Four Seasons will close. The sixty-year old NYC institution that defined the "power lunch" is vanishing due to a lack of "bidness". Once upon you couldn't get a table at this sheek, glamorous eatery where the rich and powerful broke bread and made deals. Now they can't give tables away.

The "power lunch" that the Four Seasons championed is definitely the product of a by-gone era. These days even the biggest and richest companies don't want to pay for super-expensive business lunches, expense accounts are either much smaller than they used to be or gone altogether. Today, people don't even meet in person that much -- nearly all my work meetings are held via video conference, I don't even leave my desk. It's very efficient and much easier than dragging to meetings -- but it has no "class."

"Class" is one of those things that's in the eye of the beholder. Some people think velvet and polyester clothes and gold-plated furnishings are classy. For me, "class" is pure, simple elegance. It's quality above all, beauty that seeks to inspire, not offend. 

I've blogged a lot about the travails of the Plaza Hotel over the years. Did you know that once upon a whole bunch of widows used to live in the Plaza and hold salons and parties? They gave this historic hotel not only wealthy prestige but they made it interesting, they made it culturally rich and fascinating, they gave it "class" above all. And that was the point of being rich -- not just having money and expensive stuff but making something unique out of it. 

That's what class is to be me: something beautiful and interesting and unique and memorable.

And those values have declined as wealthy these days is more about raw power and demonstrativeness, not about making smothing of it. It's wonton in a way -- the point of being rich is to be rich, not to make something of it. 

It's sad. It's the fall of class. 

Dr John RIP

The brilliant blues and rock'n'roll singer/musician Dr. John has died. 

The original New Orleans voodoo daddy, he was a genius songwriter and piano player. He produced over 30 albums, performed in every venue and on every stage, big and small, grand or humble. He even had a Top 40 hit, "Right Place, Wrong Time." He was the consummate performer, a one-of-a-kind talent, and he will be greatly missed.

Dr. John lived in New Orleans almost all his life but, for a while, he also had an apartment in Washington Heights in Manhattan so he was a part-time New Yorker. He was also a big part of my childhood: his recording of "Splish Splash" was on a childhood record (yes, vinyl!) that I had, he wrote the theme song for a childhood guilty pleasure TV show of mine ("Blossom"), and he was the inspiration for Dr. Teeth of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem from The Muppets.

Rest in peace, John. Heaven just a lot more funky today.

Stonewall @ 50

So it's Pride Month, and it's a special one this year -- 50 years ago this month was the Greenwich Village Stonewall raid and riots that kicked off the modern-day gay rights movement. It's hard for anyone young these days to remember just how brutal it was for gay men and women to live in America back then. You could lose your job, your family, everything you had, if you dared to come out of the closet. Even into the 1990s and early 2000s gays were legally and socially discriminated against. There's little to say that's good about what's gone on in this country in the first two decades of the 21st century but, along with the election of President Barack Obama, gay marriage and the acceptance of gay life in America today is one of this country's proudest achievements.

In fact, the current NYC Police Commissioner made a formal apology for the Stonewall raid, closing a loop of history.

But history's not over! In NYC, and across America, Drag Queens are reading to and entertain young people in public libraries (it's called Drag Queen Story Hour). Needless to say, some closed-minded people don't like this, even in progressive Brooklyn. 

So when my wife and I found out about this, we decided to invite them to our neighborhood public library to read to our kids.

President Roosevelt's D-Day Prayer - June 6, 1944

Donald Trump Killed Eloise

If Little Orphan Annie is NYC's favorite fictional un-parented child, then Eloise is NYC's favorite parent-ignored child. Eloise lived in the Plaza hotel, the legendary home to NYC glamour and sophistication, with her nanny. Her parents were forever traveling, doing everything but raising their child.

The Plaza was the stuff that dreams were made of. Eloise was its spirit. 

The Plaza Hotel is so famous, so legendary, so beloved, that just the mention of it makes people feel classy. Besides Eloise, other great works of American culture have taken place there: a pivotal scene in The Great Gatsby and Neil Simon's play Plaza Suite are just a few of them.

Several years ago the Plaza was ruined. It was bought by some sleazy investors who turned it into condos that almost no one lives in. Today the Plaza is a shell, it's glamour and sophistication severely diminished, almost gone. Like NYC itself, everything great about it has been gutted.

But the Plaza's long downfall began in the last 1980s when Donald Trump bought it. In a now legendarily bad deal, he paid too much for it, made all kinds of dumb changes to the characters of the hotel, turned it into a joke, and bankrupted it before selling it at a huge loss. The spirit of the hotel died. 

Eloise, in a sense, died. 

Much like America now, Trump took something great, turned it into an embarrassing joke, and sped up its reputational descent. Reading this long history of Trump's ownership of the Plaza is a long depressing reminder of how the Plaza, along with America and NYC, have gone on a  downward trajectory. 

Can the Plaza be restored? Its spirit saved?

Can Eloise be resuscitated? 

AOC & Tiffany Caban @ Queens Pride -- Vote Caban in the Primary, June 25, 2019!

The Final Moments of WPLJ