EARTH ANGEL (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music


My conscience was beginning to hold me hostage and the ransom was my future.

Despite what we were taught by Father Flynn, some people were expendable. They just didn't matter. I was a crook born and raised in a cold, Catholic orphanage and quickly learned that even I didn't matter. She was no different. I could tell she didn't exactly have a high opinion of her own footing in life.

It was easy for people like us to fall off the map. Bus depots, train stations, truck stops, ports of call - they were all breeding grounds for skirts with lonely hearts and creeps with one eye on their drink and the other on the door.

I met her at one of these destinations and, to be honest, it really didn't matter which one. I sold her a bill of goods and she bought them willingly. All I had to do was wink my wink and promise a little cabbage when our grift was done.

A suitcase of diamonds. That's what the road to kismet thought she was worth. And it worked. Greed tapped me on the shoulder that day and I figured one less future whatever-she-was-gonna-be didn't matter in the grand scheme of the universe. She already had one strike against her looking down the barrel of my gun.

But I remember that even in death, she looked like an angel - even with the Lucky Strike hanging from those puffy rosebud lips. Three hours later, she slept in the Earth.

Some people are expendable. At least that's what I told myself as I patted the dirt with my shovel.

The problem with that logic is that eventually, if we live long enough, guys like me develop a stab of sympathy. Our damned wisdom gives us a frame of reference. And then it all becomes clear.

I have to chuckle because the man upstairs cursed me. No, he didn't get me pinched. I have all my limbs and I can see through both my eyes. I felt snakebitten by Ol' Totem because I met the woman who would be my wife not one day after I put that sweet young thing down.

I've lived a lie my whole life and now when I look at the face of my teenage daughter I hope that my earth angel doesn't take it out on her.

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'BOARDWALK EMPIRE' SEASON 3 TEASERS

Nothing like simple, but effective teasers... Enjoy these very quick black and white spots for the third season of 'Boardwalk Empire' on HBO. Recaps, as usual, will come Monday mornings at NJ.com in September.

Prep your bourbon...





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THE KREATIV BLOGGER AWARD

The Flash Fiction blog Liminal Fiction and its owner, Richard Bon, was kind enough to bestow upon me the Kreativ Blogger Award. Mucho thanks for that, Richard! Thanks, as always, for reading.

In order to accept the kudos, I have to share 10 things about myself with my basement dwellers and pass it along to a few blogs that I feel are worthy. OK ... So here goes:

1) I can only watch noir films at night.

2) I'm a sucker for old radio dramas.

3) I still maintain that my favorite job was my first - in the stock room at Barnes & Noble. Oh, the books...

4) I hate the warm weather and all that comes with it.

5) As a child, I never had a pet.

6) I certainly have pack rat tendencies but obvious Rat Pack style.

7) My first REAL shot of any kinda hard booze was after a fight with an old flame well into my twenties. No worries, I've more than made up for lost time.

8) On my first and only Boy Scout camping trip, me and a bunch of the other young scouts got tied to a tree. Um... Yeah. Never went camping again.

9) If there's a marathon airing anywhere on TV, I'll usually watch. That said, I try to avoid VH1 on Sundays.

10) I once did a ridiculous amount of freelancing for Men's Health magazine and as someone who now covers many facets of entertainment, lemme just say that it's easier to get celebrities on the phone than doctors.

Now that THAT'S out of the way, I'm passing along the Kreativ Blogger Award to three completely different animals:

Bish's Beat: One stop shopping for pulp, noir, hard-boiled and retro goodness. Bish, a retired cop, has been at the blog game a while and more than brings the goods.

Alt Disney World: I've said it before. I'm a sucker for the Americana of Walt Disney and his theme parks. For an alterntive look at life within the parks and Disneyana, this is the only blog you need to read.

Drunken Absurdity: The blogger blog of counter-culture madman Adam Schirling, founder and editor-in-chief of Drunken Absurdity, the revolutionary ezine that features alternative literature, poetry, art and movies. Soon to be a print venture.

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NEO NOIR: FOUR FILMS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED, PART II

Clockwise from top left: Joe Pesci, Gina Gershon and Billy Zane, Woody Harrelson and Robert Mithum.

The best thing about noir as a genre is that it can be bent a thousand ways from Sunday. I've said that once and I'll continue.

While most classic noir films we've come to love have stemmed from the 40s and 50s (too many to name), plenty of neo noirs have been delivered in the modern day from director Roman Polanski's take of the private eye film in "Chinatown" to the burnt-neon world of Ridley Scott's sci-fi "Blade Runner." Those are givens. But what about the flicks off the beaten path?

Just as in my prior post, I'm going to recommend four more neo-noirs that some of you may have missed the first time around.

PALMETTO (1988) 

This gist: Woody Harrelson as a noir schnook borders on pure genius. Here's the gist: Jilted reporter Harry Barber (Woody Harrelson) is framed for for exposing corruption in City Hall in Palmetto, Fla. Once he's sprung, Barber is quickly seduced by the devil in a dress named Mrs. Malroux (Elisabeth Shue). She lets him in on a lil' fake kidnapping scheme: For pretending to abduct her stepdaughter, Harry snags $50,000. The officer in charge of the case hires Barber as the police spokesman, but their simple plan runs into complications and unexpected twists.


Why I loved it: Woody is fabulous and the humid Florida atmosphere drips off the screen. And Shue... Wow. Was she born to play a femme fatale. A solid neo-noir.

FAREWELL MY LOVELY (1975) 

The gist: What's a noir list without a Marlowe film? The second big screen adaptation of Raymond Chandler's novel, is much closer to the source text than the original 1944 film " Murder, My Sweet." The film centers on Hollywood detetcive Marlowe's attempts to locate Velma, a former dancer at a seedy nightclub and the girlfriend of Moose Malloy, a petty criminal just out of prison.

Why I loved it: Robert Mitchum, for my money, is one of the best Marlowe's I've seen. Dare I say, he might be better than Bogie? Shot in lush, period detail, everything about it works. Look for a Sly Stallone cameo. Trivia: In 1978, Mitchum reprised the role of Marlowe in "The Big Sleep" but the drama was oddly set in the present day and in England.

THIS WORLD THEN FIREWORKS (1997)

 

The gist: Undoubtedly the oddest of this lot, the neo-noir is based on a posthumously published Jim Thompson story in all its seedy glory. And I DO mean seedy. Billy Zane stars as Marty Lakewood, a reporter forced to leave Chicago because he had uncovered too much police corruption (sounds similar to 'Palmetto.') He returns to his small hometown on the California coast to his ailing mother and prostitute sister (Gina Gershon), with whom he had an incestuous affair. The scheming begins...

Why I loved it: This is by far the kinkiest noir I've ever seen. And yes, kinkier than Thompson's other adaptation, 2010's 'The Killer Inside Me.' This B picture is filled with gangsters, policewomen and LOTS of double-crossing. No doubt, the film feels icky. A real neo-noir, but be warned. Caveat: This is a tough film to find. While some may be able to find it on VHS, I was able to snag it a few years ago on cable.

 THE PUBLIC EYE (1992) 

The gist: When the mob bears down on a widowed nightclub owner (Barbara Hershey), she enlists the help of New York City's most reliable crime scene photographer Leon "Bernzy" Bernstein (Joe Pesci), who agrees to get involved in exchange for good pictures -- and a potential romance. 
Why I loved it: Pesci delivers. This was an attempt to make Pesci a real leading man after he won his Oscar for 'Goodfellas.' Sadly, the film never found an audience. This is perhaps the most conventional film of this bunch, despite all the period detail. Still, a fine and worthy movie to add to any neo-noir canon. Trivia: The film is loosely based on the famed New York Daily News photographer Arthur "Weegee" Fellig. Currently streaming on Comcast.
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NEW TV SHOWS: 'VEGAS,' 'MADE IN JERSEY'

The gorgeous Janet Montgomery in 'Made in Jersey.'

As the networks pimp their shows with announcements from the upfronts in Cali., I have to admit that nothing is exactly tickling my fancy. 

For the most part it's the same bumper crop of sitcoms, police procedurals and paranormal caca with the name J.J. Abrams stamped on it. Call me jaded.

Two shows, however, stood out. Since I hail from the state Tony Soprano called home, "Made in Jersey" seems intriguing enough. It centers on a young working class woman who uses her street smarts to compete among her pedigreed Manhattan colleagues at a top New York law firm. It also helps that star Janet Montgomery (a Brit playing a jersey gal!) is impossibly gorgeous.

 

The second a waaaay  more my speed. Fresh of the heels of successful period programs like "Mad Men" and "Magic City," comes "Vegas." The drama is inspired by the true story of former Sin City  Sheriff Ralph Lamb, a rancher tasked with bringing order to Las Vegas in the 1960s. We're so in... The fact that it stars Dennis Quaid as the lawman and Michael Chiklis as a Chi-town mobster s just icing.

The following are the trailers and official synopsis for each show.

 VEGAS

The official synopsis: Dennis Quaid and Michael Chiklis star in VEGAS, a drama inspired by the true story of former Las Vegas Sheriff Ralph Lamb, a fourth-generation rancher tasked with bringing order to Las Vegas in the 1960s, a gambling and entertainment mecca emerging from the tumbleweeds. Ralph Lamb (Quaid) wants to be left in peace to run his ranch, but Las Vegas is now swelling with outsiders and corruption which are intruding on his simple life.

Recalling Lamb's command as a military police officer during World War II, the Mayor appeals to his sense of duty to look into a murder of a casino worker – and so begins Lamb’s clash with Vincent Savino (Chiklis), a ruthless Chicago gangster who plans to make Vegas his own. Assisting Lamb in keeping law and order are his two deputies: his diplomatic, even-keeled brother Jack (Jason O'Mara) and his charming but impulsive son, Dixon (Taylor Handley). Ambitious Assistant District Attorney Katherine O'Connell (Carrie-Anne Moss), who grew up on the ranch next to the Lambs, also lends a hand in preserving justice. In Vegas, two powerful men – Lamb and Savino – are engaged in a fierce battle for control of the budding oasis, and for both of them, folding is not an option. Nicholas Pileggi, Greg Walker, Cathy Konrad, Arthur Sarkissian and James Mangold, who also directed the pilot, are the executive producers for CBS Television Studios.

MADE IN JERSEY

The official synopsis: MADE IN JERSEY is a drama about a young working-class woman who uses her street smarts to compete among her pedigreed Manhattan colleagues at a prestigious New York law firm. Martina Garretti (Janet Montgomery) finds her firm’s cutthroat landscape challenging, but what she lacks in an Ivy League education she more than makes up for with tenacity and blue-collar insight.

After just a few weeks, firm founder Donovan Stark (Kyle MacLachlan), takes note of Martina’s ingenuity and resourcefulness, as does her sassy secretary Cyndi Vega (Toni Trucks). With the support of her big Italian family, including her sexy older sister Bonnie (Erin Cummings), Martina is able to stay true to her roots as a bold, passionate lawyer on the rise in a new intimidating environment. Jamie Tarses, Kevin Falls, Julia Franz and Mark Waters, who also directed the pilot, are the executive producers for Sony Pictures Television in association with CBS Television Studios. Pilot was written by creator and co-executive producer Dana Calvo.


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HIPPY CHICKS (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music 
They didn’t give a flying rat's ass about poetry or jazz. They just wanted to maybe smoke and get drunk. Maybe score some of that good reefer from the new beatnik kid who wanted to be Kerouac.

They were young American girls who thought they knew it all. They were runaways but would never admit it and, under normal circumstances, would probably be pretty were it not for the vigors of bohemian life like tobacco, booze and certain mild psychedelics.

Being from a big Northeastern city, the two girls were both children of hard-working immigrants and it's pretty safe to assume that the goatees, slang and hipster clothes were lost on their parents, a generation who left their own country to build ours.

Monica, the brunette, insisted everyone call her 'Monique' while the blonde, Yelena, of Russian descent, had to endure the nickname 'Sputnik I' from all of the resident Dobie Gillises around the way.

One night while she was out, Monique's father found books on Buddhism under her bed and when she came home, threatened to throw her out. When she explained that it opened her mind, he opened his wallet, handed his only daughter a fifty dollar bill and called her an evil gypsy. She snatched the money from his trembling hand and never looked back.

Yelena left home quite differently. She began dating a journalist whose scribbled a tad too much about certain 'isms,' which, quite frankly, hit a tad too close to home for Russian expatriates like her parents. When Yelena suggested at the supper table one night that Uncle Sam should start equalizing the playing field a bit more and that men like Henry Ford were the devil incarnate, her parents suggested she enter the world that she knew nothing about. Sputnik I accepted, grabbed her beret, and embarked on a year-long couch hopping tour.

Yelena's tour ended when her journalist boyfriend's tour in the Vietnamese jungle began. Eventually, she snagged a job as a shopgirl where she would eventually meet her husband, a bank manager from two towns away. It's safe to assume that yes, she would endorse Capitalism.

And what of Monica -- err, Monique? She would eventually migrate west and couldn't afford to get past Reno. She wasn't complaining, though. As a hat check girl, she paid her bills and met many fine young suitors.

Years passed ad it's funny how times ad those doors of perception change because these two mature women would eventually give those slobs at Woodstock the stink eye.

At this point in their life thousands of miles apart, the jazz of those bohemian nights never sounded better.

Music: 'Bohemian Nights' by Adam Wojtanek. It can be downloaded HERE.

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NEO NOIR: FOUR CLASSICS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED

Clockwise from upper left, Denzel Washington, Michael Shannon, Billy Bob Thornton and Elliot Gould

 
The best thing about noir as a genre is that it can be bent a thousand ways from Sunday.

While most classic noir films we've come to love have stemmed from the 40s and 50s (too many to name), plenty of neo noirs have been delivered in the modern day from director Roman Polanski's take of the private eye film in "Chinatown" to the burnt-neon world of Ridley Scott's sci-fi "Blade Runner." Those are givens. But what about the flicks off the beaten path? I'm going to recommend four neo-noirs  that some of you may have missed the first time around. 

THE LONG GOODBYE (1973)

The gist: Of all directors, Robert Altman takes on Raymond Chandler's hard-boiled gumshoe Phillip Marlowe in an update of "The Long Goodbye" with Elliot Gould stepping into the iconic role as he bops around Los Angeles in the early 70s. Yes, it's odd. Between Altman (who I felt couldn't tackle Chandler), and Gould (who I felt was woefully miscast), I had reservations from the first frame. Was I wrong. In a big way.

Why I loved it: Gould gives us such a quirky, unconventional muttering-to-himself Marlowe that he makes you like him. He's not a tough guy which is oddly refreshing in any noir. What's more, Sterling Hayden, a vet himself of vintage noir films, shows up as a grizzled Hemingway-eque scribe. And finally, "The Long Goodbye" boasts one of the catchiest theme songs I've heard in a while that you'll want to own it. Easily worth a watch. (Netflix streaming)

THE MISSING PERSON (2009)

The gist: Boozy private-eye John Rosow (Michael Shannon) is hired to shadow a mysterious man leaving on a train from Chicago bound for Los Angeles and soon finds out that he's not who everyone thinks he is. As a result, it's not long before the detective channels his own inner demons by discovering he and the man he's looking for are very much alike. If there was a quintessential post 911 noir, this would be it.

Why I loved it: Two words - Michael Shannon. Anyone who is a fan of 'Boardwalk Empire' knows that the Oscar-nominated Shannon ('Revolutionary Road') is a fine thespian and his ballsy interpretation of the typical gumshoe is first rate. (Netflix streaming) 

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE (2001)

The gist: This Joel Coen and Ethan Coen film casts Billy Bob Thornton as sad sack California barber Ed Crane. When his wife cheats on him (Frances McDormand), he embarks on a devious blackmail scheme that eventually explodes in his face. James Gandolfini co-stars.

Why I loved it: This is perhaps the most typical noir of these neo examples. In fact, this black-and-white flick could easily have been released in 1949 and no one would be able to tell. I've said it before and I'll say it again: No one does retro films better than the Coens. Their visual aesthetic and attention to detail make each frame a virtual painting. Add in moody noir elements, and you have a damn near classic.

DEVIL IN A BLUE DRESS (1995)

The gist: Based on the character created by writer Walter Mosley, the film is set in Los Angeles circa 1948. A stranger asks war veteran (and self-taught private dick) "Easy" Rawlins (Denzel Washington) to help find a missing woman and he quickly gets in over his head becoming entangled in a murder mystery.

Why I loved it: Denzel ooooooozes charisma in this. So much so, that one wishes there were more films in the Easy Rawlins cannon. Good news, however. According to Deadline ad CNN, NBC is developing a project called "Easy Rawlins," based on Mosley's best-selling series. Quick... someone call Idris Elba. Let's hope the Peacock Network doesn't screw it up in development like they did with 'The Playboy Club' and 'Prime Suspect.'

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PICK ME UP ON YOUR WAY DOWN (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music

first hour

It had been a long drive for Grace -- like can't feel your legs long.

Somewhere between the grime of Los Angeles and the burnt palette of the Nevada border, she ditched her pumps altogether. As she drove over the cracked asphalt, she heard them rattle underneath the passenger seat and it bothered her.

third hour

She looked for a gas station or roadside slophouse. Nothing. Despite the growling in her gut, she wasn't hungry. She needed a cup of Joe. Anything would help now and she couldn't help thinking that even the mud Gus sold on his hot dog cart outside the courthouse would do. Without caffeine, the radio would have to do. Nothing but Patsy Cline and Charlie Walker for hundreds of miles. It helped for a while, but she had a deadline so Grace pressed on because she knew there'd be a reward. Especially after what she'd done.

sixth hour

She was now in Nevada and the boys would soon be by to pick her up after ditching the toaster she was driving. At least that was the plan. Or was it?

seventh hour

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck and all Grace wanted to do was rip off the deluxe over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder she bought from the five and dime. But then, that would be unladylike so unbuttoning a few extra buttons would have to suffice. Besides, who was watching?

eighth hour

By now, the sun was sleepy and she leaned against the car and wondered if there was any beer left in the cooler of the trunk. There was, but those Lowenbraus were floating in ice water hotter than a two-dollar pistol.

Then it hit her. They weren't coming. They never were. But it was okay. Truly okay.

Her plan worked. She knew those fellas were lower than the belly of a snake and she smiled at the very thought of how truly dumb they were.

ninth hour

As the sun set on Grace, she hopped back into the heap and headed back to Los Angeles to where she actually hid the money.

Music: Charlie Walker, "Pick Me Up On Your Way Down" via the Internet Archive. It can be downloaded here.

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I TAUGHT HER WELL (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music


Even though she pointed that gun at me, I wasn't scared.

You see, it wasn't the first time and truth be told, I wasn't sure if this little chickadee had what chickadees didn't to pull the trigger. In fact, I couldn't help think how it made her sexier. I tried not to smirk. She looked cute.

I slowly walked over to the bar cart and poured myself a copper delight. I raised an empty glass in her direction, asking if she wanted one herself. She shook her head. That was the extent of our communication.

At this point, the smirk arrived. "You could still have some hooch and point that gun, ya know..."

She said nothing and kept that barrel aimed square at where my heart beat. Funny since she always claimed I didn't have one. I shrugged, downed the cheap scotch she usually kept on hand and tried to calm her down.

I focused on those lips that looked like that came from pink roses. They weren't quivering which told me that she meant business. Or at least she thought so.

Her makeup wasn't smeared so that told me she wasn't losing any tears on my behalf. Somehow, I was expecting at least a small amount of water works. There I go, flattering myself again.

Also, she was also wearing black leather gloves. That little trick she learned from me. And to think I foolishly thought that trip to Gimbel's yesterday was for that bra she was now lying in. Now wasn't the time, though, to focus on that ample bosom. If I was lucky, later. Maybe.

I was mildly distracted by the Crosley. It blared a blues tune and she knew I hated blues. Acoustic no less. She got that pointer from me as well. Keep your subject disoriented. I started to think that she was up to something. I lowered the radio and found my station. Our station.

Some piano jazz, seduced with some trumpet, echoed throughout the small apartment.

"Wanna dance?" I asked, extending my hand. I knew she wouldn't go for it. Still I had to test whether she'd break. That was my trick in the past but here, now, she remained stoic, impressing me again. My little cupcake, all grown up.

We'd been at this Midwestern con game now a couple of years and she'd proven herself to be valuable enough. So much so that she started demanding more cabbage. That wasn't part of the deal. At the end of the day, I needed my shape in a drape to be happy with the dresses I bought and the perfume she sniffed, not a lion's share of the popcorn. Uh-uh, that wasn't the arrangement. I'd sooner put her back on a bus to whatever depot I found her at twinkly-eyed.

So here we were. Me admiring how cute she looked with the big boy gun and her doing the best Sterling Hayden impression she could muster with the tricks I taught her. Shaking my head, I reached for the scotch once more, bad as it was.

The one thing I didn't teach her? How to skate away, clean as a whistle, with all of the money. That trick was still mine. Or was it? I caught a glimpse of a burgundy leather duffel peak out from under the bed. I knew it too well. It belonged Fat Sam, my bank in the region. He held on to my dough, banked it under his name for a hearty cut. Little did I know that Fat Sam also wanted a piece of her chicken wing.

I pointed to the duffel and she cocked the trigger. That was his cue. The closet door creaked open and Fat Sam walked out and before I could say anything, she did it. God dammit, she really did it.

She pulled that trigger.

As I fell to the ground, slug in my belly and water in my eyes, I smirked my last smirk and couldn't help think that I taught her well. It gave me an odd sense of satisfaction.

She won.

Photo: Taken by photographer Marco Patino with subject Allison Grace of the grindtastic Tumblr blog Nekromistress.
Music: Smoky Babe - 'Rabbit Bues,' courtesy of the Internet Archive.

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'MAGIC CITY': HITS AND MISSES

Everyone wants them some Don Draper...

As the recently-cancelled "Playboy Club" on NBC has shown and what ABC's "Pan Am" will soon learn is that it takes a little bit more than period clothing to capture that "Mad Men" magic.

The "Mad Men" formula is simple. The Emmy-winning AMC show is first and foremost a workplace show about advertising and the people who inhabit the office. The sixties era-coolness is just the setting. It's done so well, that we, as viewers, believe it to be a secondary character. That's the beauty of it.

Starz is getting in on the period action with their own ambitious new drama "Magic City." On paper, it sounds fascinating:

1959. Miami Beach. The heyday of cheap air travel brings the well-to-do cheaply and quickly to the region. Enter Ike Evans (that's a manly name, huh?), owner (or is he?) of the chic Miami hotel the Miramar Playa. He's forced to make some uncomfortable decisions not to mention some shady backroom deals with a local mob kingpin regarding the future of his joint. Five minutes in, it's easy to see there's no shortage of conflict here.

Throw in a backdrop of a falling Havana, union problems, the rise of The Kennedys and all the Rat Packy glory you can think of and it's easy to assume it sounds like a winner right out of the gate.

Not so fast.

It's obvious Starz knows what it's doing. "Boss" star Kelsey Grammer just scored a Best Actor in a Drama Emmy and the channel's "Spartacus" has been a solid performer for years. That all said, "Magic City" irked me a little bit. Not enough to stop watching by any means, but let's just say I'm going to keep my eye on it for some troubling aspects that I'll get into shortly. Think of the show as a dab of "Boardwalk Empire," a pinch of "Mad Men" and a healthy dose of "The Sopranos." Throw it all in a blender and the concoction will be this frappe.

WHAT WORKED

* THE MAIN MAN. As Ike Evans, series star Jeffrey Dean Morgan has the heavy load here as the resident Don Draper. While most people liken the actor to a C-list Javier Bardem lookalike, I think he's much more of a poor man's George Clooney and that's NOT a bad thing. Morgan is pulling it off as the man who has to live with himself in his shady world. His life is his hotel and no one is going to take it away from him. Morgan easily has the charisma of an old-school leading man so I'm really hoping some other aspects of the show will do him justice. Morgan is a solid actor with solid TV and film credentials ("Grey's Anatomy," "The Losers" and "Watchmen") so it's no shock he can more than pull this one off.


* DELUXE SETPIECE. The "Magic City" sets are top notch. Gorgeous mid-century is everywhere and it's obvious that no expense was spared when it came to weaving the world of the Miramar Playa - both inside and out. This is catnip for retro junkies.

* TUNES AND THREADS. Showrunner Mitch Glazer didn't stop there. The authenticity is carried through with superb fashions and a soundtrack of REAL music from the era. In fact, we actually hear an off-camera Sinatra singing "I've Got the World on a String" towards the climax of the first episode (taken from the CD "Live at The Sands." In the first episode, 'Ol Blue Eyes was performing in the hotel's showroom and I just have to thank everyone involved that a Sinatra was NOT cast. Extra points for casting an actor to portray longtime Sinatra pal and saloon keeper Jilly Rizzo.

WHAT DIDN'T WORK

* 90210 SYNDROME. Part of the allure of "Mad Men" is that the cast looks TRULY like the could've lived and breathed in the sixties -- Jon Hamm aside, the ad men and women at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce don't exactly look like the leaped off the pages of a frikkin' magazine. That's my problem with "Magic City." Almost everyone is gorgeous. So much so, that a) it becomes distracting and, as a result, they all blend into one another. I know it's Miami where people are born gorgeous but ... it's just freakin' unbelievable. Give me the imperfectly perfect anytime...

* GETTIN' STALE? Every now and again, you're hit with some pretty bad dialogue...

"Rip out my heart and eat it -- I am yours."

"You built a palace, now it's time to be king...'"

"You only go around once in life and sometimes, not even then..."

"Who are you?"
-- "The wrong woman..."

A word of note to the writer's room: Less is more. What's unspoken is much, much more powerful. C'mon fellas...

* OH NO, NOT HIM. I'm talking about 'that' character... You know what I mean... Ike's screw-up, bad boy son (Steven Strait, above) who's ssooooooooooo dreamy it hurts and Ike's ruthless gangster partner (veteran actor Danny Huston, left) who a) is conveniently nicknamed 'The Butcher' and b) is juuuuuust the type to smash a bottle poolside and then act like it never even happened. These kinds of central-casting stock characters just even a few episodes in feel ridiculously one dimensional.

This all said, I'm very well aware that a new show has to find it's voice and the characters have to establish themselves so I'm willing to roll with it a bit because the production value is so high, the historical period is so ripe with possibilities and that "Magic City" star Morgan could be a compelling leading man.

This show has tons of potential. I'm pulling for it...







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PULP/NOIR: DAN TURNER HOLLYWOOD DETECTIVE AND AUDIO TREATS

You tend to find some gems while poking around the web in the wee small hours. While hunting on YouTube for a NOIR documentary, all sorts of goodies come up -- namely some full-length gems like "Detour," "Borderline" " Cape Fear" and "While the City Sleeps." I've created a Noir playlist (a work in progress) so enthusiasts can enjoy. These are perfectly watchable on a smartphone or tab. Enjoy.

One YouTube discovery simply that simply blew me away was an audio reading of a. short story that centers on Hollywood detective Dan Turner written by prolific scribe Robert Leslie Bellem. I looked Bellem up and to say he was prolific is an understatement. He penned over 3000 pulps with Turner starring in at least 300 during the heyday of men's magazines.

When most of the pulps folded, Bellem went on to an equally prolific TV writing career for such shows as "The Lone Ranger," "The Adventures of Superman (1950s version)," "Perry Mason" and "77 Sunset Strip."

But his first person prose as Turner virtually sings on the page and this audio reading (by the gravel-voiced Steve Black) is a stupendous example. Personally, I wish Black made more of these.


Here are links to Part Two and Part Three. Certainly worth a listen. For more on Bellem click HERE and HERE.

Finally, if you like your pulp and noir in audio form, I've also stumbled across a wonderful streaming radio station called AUDIO NOIR that plays hundreds of pulps and detective stories that were heard on the radio back in the day. It supports most audio platforms. Here's the link.

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BOXING PULP: FIGHT CARD SERIES

Just a quick (and slightly long) post to pass along a promotion for a great new pulp series, one that I will be a part of hopefully later in the year.

If you dig the great adventure boxing tales that populated vintage men magazines and dimestore novels of yore, look no further than the FIGHT CARD series, created by Paul Bishop and Mel Odom.

Written by different authors under the pseudonym of 'Jack Tunney' (in a homage to pugilists Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney), the tight-fisted tales are pure throwback to sweaty fight halls and back alley double-crosses. Fun and quick reads.

During the month of March, if you buy "Fight Card: Felony Fists" from Amazon.com you can get "Fight Card: The Cutman" for FREE, or vice-versa. To receive your FREE Fight Card novel forward your receipt email from Amazon.com to fightcardseries@gmail.com and you will receive a Kindle file by return email to send to your Kindle email address.

Along with your FREE Fight Card novel, you will also receive a free copy of Fight Fictioneers Magazine featuring numerous articles and reviews pertaining to fight fiction and the Fight Card series.

Here's a breakdown of the titles with synopsis (via Amazon) thus far:

FELONY FISTS (Paul Bishop): Los Angeles 1954

Patrick “Felony” Flynn has been fighting all his life. Learning the “sweet science” from Father Tim the fighting priest at St.

Vincent’s, the Chicago orphanage where Pat and his older brother Mickey were raised, Pat has battled his way around the world – first with the Navy and now with the Los Angeles Police Department.

Legendary LAPD chief William Parker is on a rampage to clean up both the department and the city. His elite crew of detectives known as The Hat Squad is his blunt instrument – dedicated, honest, and fearless. Promotion from patrol to detective is Pat’s goal, but he also yearns to be one of the elite.

And his fists are going to give him the chance.

Gangster Mickey Cohen runs LA’s rackets, and murderous heavyweight Solomon King is Cohen’s key to taking over the fight game. Chief Parker wants wants Patrick “Felony” Flynn to stop him – a tall order for middleweight ship’s champion with no professional record.

Leading with his chin, and with his partner, L.A.’s first black detective Tombstone Jones, covering his back, Patrick Flynn and his Felony Fists are about to fight for his future, the future of the department, and the future of Los Angeles.

* * *

THE CUTMAN (Mel Odom): Havana, Cuba. 1954. Mickey Flynn is an ex-Korean War vet turned merchant marine. He was born in the ghettos of Chicago and raised in an orphanage with his younger brother, Patrick. He was one of several young men who received an education from the nuns at St. Vincent's. But he was also taught the "sweet science" by Father Tim, a Golden Gloves boxer and retired police officer who only knew one way to bring a troubled boy to manhood. Father Tim worked with his young charges, taught them how to jab and punch and throw a hook that seemed to come out of nowhere.

When the young men left St. Vincent's (Our Lady of the Glass Jaw), they were changed, fit and ready to take on the troubles the encountered around the world, no matter where they found them. Now Mick's in Havana, working on WIDE BERTHA, his ship. After surviving a fierce storm at sea, the last thing Mick and the crew need to do is get crossways with the Italian organized crime flooding Havana, but it doesn't take much to put him in the cross hairs of a vengeful mob boss working for Lucky Luciano. Unable to get free of bad luck and unfortunate circumstance, Mick ends up in the ring in an illegal boxing match fighting a human killing machine.

***

SPLIT DECISION (Eric Beetner): Kansas City, 1954. Jimmy Wyler is a fighter punching his way straight to the middle. All he wants is to make enough dough to buy his girl, Lola, a ring. And maybe make the gang back at St. Vincent’s orphanage proud.

A slick mobster named Cardone has an offer for Jimmy – money, and lots of it – for a fix. Jimmy takes the fight. The ring is almost on Lola’s finger, until Jimmy collides with Whit – another mobster with another up-and-coming fighter. Whit has an offer of his own. Same fight, different fix.

Now Jimmy is caught between two warring factions of the Kansas City underworld. He can’t make a move without someone getting mad, getting even, or getting dead. From sweat-soaked fight halls to darkened alleyways, the countdown has begun. With his girl and his manager in the crossfire, everything Jimmy ever learned about fancy footwork and keeping his defenses up may not be enough … Fight night is approaching and nobody is going to be saved by the bell.

***

COUNTERPUNCH (Wayne D. Dundee): Danny Dugronski has been a fighter all his life.

As an orphan at St. Vincent's Asylum for Boys, he first learned the "sweet science" of boxing from Father Tim, the battling priest. Then the Marine Corps taught him far more lethal fighting tactics before shipping him off to do battle in the hell of the South Pacific.

Now, with World War II over, Danny "The Duke" has returned home and earned a respectable ranking as a regional heavyweight in the Milwaukee area. But his record, free of KO losses, is jeopardized by a mob front man who tries to push him into a series of rigged fights.

When Danny refuses, hard push comes to deadly shove, and he must call upon all his fighting skills to stand his ground. And when Danny comes out swinging, he’s determined to put the mob down for the count.

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LUST IS BACK ... STYLE IS BACK... 'MAD MEN' IS BACK (TRAILERS)

Anyone tuning into "The Walking Dead" on Sunday night was in for a treat because AMC showed a brand new crop of trailers for the fifth season of their flagship show "Mad Men."

It's pretty much a clip reel of what we've already seen in four seasons, but still cool, nonetheless. We're salivating. The show returns Sunday, March 25.

And the taglines? Doesn't get any more to the point:

STYLE IS BACK

CONFIDENCE IS BACK

DEBAUCHERY IS BACK

LUST IS BACK

ACTION IS BACK

DON IS BACK

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THE LONGEST WALK OF THE DAY (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music

Merna turned on the radio that sat next to her at the factory. G.I. Jill was playing her G.I. jives for the troops overseas and, oddly enough, that helped her get through the twelve-hour shift.

Guns would be made. Steel would be melted. Tanks constructed.

The whistle blew and it signaled the middle of her day. Merna hopped on the counter and her daily ritual begun. She lit a Pall Mall and admired the elegant weapon she just built. It would surely be in a serviceman's hands within the month. Blowing smoke at the rifle, she wondered how many men it would kill, how many thousands of rounds it would fire and, moreover, who would get it?

Merna thought of her husband Nick who was stationed in Hawaii before ultimately shipping out to Japan. She smiled at the mere thought of him and figured it would be ironic if he wound up using the artillery she made and conditioned for the war that tore them apart.

Six hours later, the whistle blew again.

* * *

Merna's daily walk home was a long one. She could have easily took the bus but would rather pocket the change for some extra smokes at the end of the week and a few movie magazines. Besides, the solace gave her time to prepare. She dreaded the mail. Deplored envelopes. Anything that bore the seal of the United States or its War Department.

Would there be a telegram today? Would Nick still be alive tomorrow?

Approaching her rowhouse, Merna walked towards the steps of her front porch. Despite the horrendous hours and mile walk from the factory, this was the longest part of her day. She stuck her hand inside of the mailbox. It was empty. She sighed.

Nick got to live another day. She could now do the dishes and start the process all over again tomorrow.

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