Thursday, January 17, 2013

What is Hollywood all About?

By now, I'm alive and safe in New Zealand, after watching the sunrise in Nadi, Fiji, the first country in the world to welcome the morning – that story comes a bit later, though. It's a different world down here, but before I can even think about that, I still have a nearly full day in Los Angeles to reflect on. This is what I wrote on a very long trans-Pacific flight.

I just caught my first glimpse of the southern night sky. Somewhere down, down beneath us is the Pacific Ocean – it's still too dark to see, but there's a decent chance it's big and blue like the Atlantic. I can almost just use my imagination. Apparently it's 10:00 am on Wednesday in Newfoundland, but 9 hours into this Air Pacific flight to Fiji, I'm about as disoriented, time-wise, as ever. If we've crossed the International Date Line, I guess it's tomorrow by now.

When I booked my stopover in LA, I wanted to do a whirlwind tour of the city, hitting as much of it as I could in just over 24 hours. I like travelling with a group, but I could never, with a clear conscience, have asked another human being to endure what I did yesterday (two days ago? I don't know, it might have been a month ago, I'm lost) – I woke up at 7:00 am, packed my things, and hit the boulevard. A few hours later, I got a fruit smoothie, and some chicken tikka masala on the go in the evening – beyond that, I was too busy roaming to bother stopping for something insignificant like food. A single day in, I already would have driven any travelling buddy insane.





I strolled through some of the neighbourhoods I'd seen the night before, just to get a glimpse of them in the sunlight. I also had to figure out the public transit system – now, I'm not saying I deserve a congressional medal or anything (not for that at least), but I'm pretty stoked that I managed to get dropped into this huge city by myself and figured out how to navigate the bus and underground metro routes. I wouldn't have been able to do it, just the same, without a watch and a notepad, two things that I threw in my bag at the eleventh hour back home.

I grabbed two buses (not at the same time, though that would have been cool) that took me out of the heart of Hollywood through mid-town Los Angeles, long sunny stretches of homes that had a very carved-out-of-the-earth organic feel to them, with the not-too-distant hills as a backdrop. It's a bit jarring, because this world seems somewhat frozen in time, with bits and pieces that have moved forward – it's like the Alhambra, that Moorish palace in Spain, if it had thrived to the 1960s era of billboards, neon signs, and burger joints, while the people themselves wore 21st century designer clothes and talked on their iPhones.

I arrived in Culver City, location of the Sony Studios, just around 10:00 am (strolling past the high fences of the movie lots on a Tuesday morning, rocking that strawberry smoothie with whipped cream, I figured I must have founded an orphanage in a previous life or something). Right from day one, I really wanted to be in a studio audience of some program. That seems like a thing people do, with all these productions going on all the time, and them being free and all. I checked out a few options online in the month leading up to my departure (Big Bang Theory was my first choice, but apparently getting tickets to that are like trying to do all your Christmas shopping at Zellers on Christmas Eve), and it turns out that Jeopardy! had a morning taping.

So, yeah . . . I've seen an episode or two of Jeopardy! I may or may not own the Jeopardy! computer game too, you wanna make something of it?


The medium-sized crowd (probably less than a hundred) converged in the chilly parking garage of the studio, some wearing orange visitor bracelets, others stamped as production guests or contestant guests. Here's where a producer gave us the rundown: we'd be occupied for a few hours, going through the taping of three episodes. A second group would be present for the afternoon session, where they would tape two more episodes, getting a week's worth of shows in a single day (Alex Trebek changes his suits in between, to give the illusion of time passing). He explained how the bathroom breaks work (only between episodes, and don't dawdle), when to applaud (there really are APPLAUSE signs in the rafters that blink on cue), and to feel free to ask Alex questions during the commercial breaks, which are the times that the production crew ties up any loose ends and redo makeup on set.

Like herded cattle we went through the Sony lot, past faceless buildings housing who knows what (we passed near to the site of where the Yellowbrick Road once lay), onto the sound stage, brilliantly lit in crisp fluorescent blue. The stage and audience area was a lot smaller than I imagined from TV, and they had monitors that showed the final production as it was happening, and so my eyes were drifting from the stage to the screens, thinking, “There's no way that's the same thing that's literally right in front of my eyes!” The general audience sat on the righthand side, perpendicular to the contestants; the invited guests, the judges, announcer Johnny Gilbert, and the rest of the crew were assembled to the left, on the other side of a dividing aisle.

It turns out that my taping (which will air in February, the 13-15) was part of the annual Tournament of Champions. That probably isn't that cool to most people, but it's kind of like ordering 6 McNuggets and getting 7 by mistake. I even recognized one of the returning contestants in the second episode. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Alex came onto the stage, the applause lights lit up, and the game began. On the breaks, it turns out he's just an average dude – charismatic as they come, but funny and down to earth. “We're from Calgary, Canada,” one couple said. “So what?” He teased. “Nice to have you here, I'm from Canada too, as you know.”

During the game though, he's on the top of his game. But he does make mistakes. During the first game, he called something wrong (the answer was “Jackson” in a category on presidential annexations, watch it on February 13), and the judges all shouted out, “No! That's right!”

“He didn't phrase it as a question.”

“Yes he did!”

Alex turned to the contestant. “Did you phrase it as a question?”

So, they replayed the tape (“Ok, well now I hear it!”) and so they did an overdub; they replayed the five seconds leading into when Alex said “No,” and started filming again when he corrected, “Yes. Pick again.” Another secret: because they show the clue on TV, and not Alex reading it, if he makes a mistake in pronouncing anything (which he doesn't do often), they just re-record the audio at the end of the episode.

With only short breaks between the episodes, the three tapings went by quickly. The weird thing was, the high tension that you sometimes get on TV (the first game had all three contestants neck and neck with serious cash for Final Jeopardy) was totally not here on the set, at least not in the audience (the contestants were in the quarter-finals of a tournament worth $250,000, so they were probably a bit nervous). The contestants were all joking together, chatting with the crew, and at the end of their taping they all sat together in the audience. I don't even really remember who won, because it wasn't all that important.

I got to check off a few things on my list though. One girl made it a true daily double, one guy ran a full category, and I got to ask Alex what he's got on that desk he's always sitting at (all the show material on paper and cue cards, where he makes notes when it comes time for editing, and a small computer screen that displays the clue he's reading). Three episodes were enough for me, but Alex played the host well throughout the day, never losing stride and keeping things entertaining. I can't imagine being able to still be into it by the last taping of the day, but I guess that's why I was just in the audience.

After Jeopardy!, I took the bus back to Hollywood, and as I was walking up the Walk of Fame, I came across one of these open mini-van type tour buses and stopped. Checking my watch, I asked the ticket agent (which sounds too formal for this dude – let's call him something between that and a scalper) what the tour was all about. It was a two-hour deal, through some of the main sites in Hollywood; I didn't have that time, not really, but as I was about to walk on he offered me a spot in an ongoing tour that was just coming back from the Hollywood Sign, slicing about 45 minutes off the trip (and half the price – win-win, they call this). So, I very quickly grabbed that second bit of food for the day, and joined two couples in the back of the car, being a fifth wheel and not all that concerned about it.

Taking the Sunset Boulevard past some of the major LA clubs (The Roxy, The Viper Room – other than Dan Akryod's House of Blues, none of them were much to look at on the outside), we hit Beverly Hills, going past Steven Spielberg’s house at the top of the hill, and some other famous mansions, tucked away behind high shrubbery and security gates – Adam Sandler's home is on a cul-de-sac, Dr. Seuss lived in a spot right out of Who-ville, and Tom Cruise's house is apparently pretty cool, although we only saw his chimney through the trees (and a fluttering flag – like the Queen of England, that's how he lets people know he's home, which he apparently was). A few other notables: Russell Crowe, Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, Larry King, and Steve Carrell.




As we went from the Hills to Bel-Air (the mansion from Fresh Prince? Yup, it's there), the price tag on the homes skyrocketed, and so did the security. I sat through it, cynicism growing in me – I'm really glad I got to go through these spots, if only for the reason that I figured out how much this glorification of celebrity unnerves me, especially here in the literal epicentre. Our little tour was one of dozens, probably hundreds, creeping through these streets. We parked outside of homes and took pictures, and that on its own is creepy. It was at Michael Jackson's old abode that things kicked up a notch: “See that room up there, on the balcony? That's where they found his body.” A little further on, just around the bend, we came to the house's garage gate, which is probably as famous as any movie scene because that's where the ambulances took his body from, and you couldn't turn on a TV that month without seeing that image. While we were there, a car pulled out of a neighbouring house, and our guide actually stopped the car mid-turn, held up traffic for a minute, and told us to see if we could recognize who was in it; she's been trying to figure out who lives there for a long time.

There are so many people in this city whose real life is a fixation on emulating real life. The spots are beautiful, but they're behind locked gates, past security booths, and still surrounded by ruthless paparazzi and tour buses like the one I sat in, die-hards making pilgrimages from all over the globe to get that one picture of a garden that some exalted celebrity paid someone to tend.

Or maybe I'm just upset that we didn't stop longer at the Playboy Mansion. At any rate, as the sun set on Tinseltown and we returned via the outlandish luxury of Rodeo Drive, I felt more dragged out than I have in a long time, but also that I saw everything I set out to see (and then some) and actually gained some perspective to help ground me on the rest of this adventure. Los Angeles was a city unlike anything else on earth, a mix of advertisements the size of skyscrapers and people putting on a show for the rest of the world and everyone else trying to capitalize on it – I'm happy I saw it, but that time was enough for me.



I collected my bags at the hostel and crammed onto the subway and then the FlyAway LAX bus. I wasn't entirely sure of where to go from there, because my itinerary muddled things by listing both American Airlines and Air Pacific as my chariot to New Zealand – I counted at least a dozen planes lighting up the sky as we drove across the city, so it turns out there are a few terminal buildings, and more different airline counters lined up than I've ever seen before. I told the bus driver American Airlines, but something didn't seem right, so I jumped out at terminal B, which houses Air Pacific, amongst other international airlines. Something still didn't seem right; my flight was scheduled for 10:30, but the only one leaving via Air Pacific that night was at 9:30.

“There's only one flight to Fiji tonight,” the woman behind me in the lineup assured me (I've got a four hour stopover there).

Let's imagine a couple of unfortunate scenarios, saying first that I gave them my passport at the counter and got both my boarding passes with no hassle, made it through security, and had time to compose myself before getting into the queue (something like a Disneyworld lineup, weaving through a narrow column that twists and turns, and the sounds of the engine increase as you get closer. I was expecting some animatronic Brer Rabbit to pop up at some point). But what if I took that 2-hour tour after all, or delayed my time on Hollywood Boulevard, or ended up at the ticket terminal for American Airlines, found out I was in the wrong spot, and had to trek God knows how far to get where I was supposed to be? Well, I'd probably be writing this from the airport floor at LAX, because even though my itinerary said 10:30, we sure were off the ground shortly after 9:30.

Then I'd be cynical.

But, here we are, in some weird time outside of time, 30,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean. Counting the rows, there are about 600 people on this flight. That's right – that's like being in elementary school during the Christmas concert, when everyone and their parents and the scattered Nan comes out, and Mr. O'Riley gets up on stage and says: “Thank you for coming. There's a seatbelt under your plastic chair – we're all going to go up in the sky together for 11 hours.”


I mean, there's an upstairs on this plane. An upstairs! I hate that moment of frustrated waiting (after you've landed, just as the doors open and even though everyone was standing up, no one actually got their bags) on a dash 8; I feel like this one will take a bit longer to disembark.

That's the next thing though. Disembarking, stepping out of this thing, on my own, somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere. And, 11 hours later, every minute getting farther away from home than ever before, being still not quite there. Los Angeles might have exhausted my body and soul, but I'm pretty sure I just found the second wind that's going to carry me for the next 7 months.


Cheers,
rb

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