vip in the city

Disco Years exhibition

Hit DUMBO with CS tonight for the reception and booksigning for photographer Ron Galella’s new book Disco Years, a visual diary of the Studio 54-era New York City club scene.

Galella is known as one of the most controversial celebrity photographers in the United States – earning him the dubious title of “the godfather of the U.S. paparazzi culture” by Time and “Paparazzo Extraordinaire” by Newsweek. In his heyday, Galella was norotious for his aggressive tenacity in catching celebrities at their most unguarded and candid. Marlon Brando broke his jaw; Sean Penn spat on him; Richard Burton’s bodyguards put him in the hospital after catching him hiding in the bushes while trying to photograph Burton with Elizabeth Taylor; Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis (one of Galella’s all-time favorite subjects) sued and got a restraining order against him. His photographs created icons, redefined the genre of celebrity photography and have been the subject of several books and exhibitions.

The exhibition’s opening night party was hosted by powerHouse Books and *surface. The space was set up with dozens of Galella’s iconic photographs.

Drinks by Boz Spirits’ 267 Infusions and Suntory Zen. The olive and pearl onion vodka (right) was fine, though perhaps a bit too olive-y. Pretty bottles, but I’m not sure why one would opt for this instead of an actual dirty martini. CS declared her green tea liqueur and tonic on crushed ice as tasty as a green tea slushy.

Most of the photos on display were from the gaudy, glittery Studio 54 era. From Andy Warhol to Mick Jagger to Cher to Grace Jones to Ali MacGraw’s original celebrity nip-slip (note: may be NSFW — duh)…

Galella himself was there that night, but no celebrities, unless you count host Randy Jones (a.k.a. The Cowboy) from the Village People, whom CS and I had a hard time trying to pick out from the crowd without his signature hat.

Afterwards, we hopped the F back to Manhattan to meet SC and JG for some neighborly wine and shopping. The four of us ended the evening with dinner at a nearby Italian (not Japanese) restaurant.

Books and Bond

Is there anybody out there?

Met SYB at Bouchon Bakery for a last minute pre-date pep talk. So much nervous excitement! I was disappointed to find that quality lemonade is only offered at Bouchon during the summer; their cold weather offering is apple cider, which I suppose makes sense. Though I, for one, find lemonade agreeable any time of the year.

Changing colors of the Time Warner Center Holiday Stars:

Hit the inaugural New York Art Book Fair, the city’s first-ever fair devoted to contemporary art books and artists’ books, with 2 floors showcasing 70+ exhibitors from around the world: from mainstream and overseas distributors to antiquarian dealers to a section called “Friendly Fire” devoted to zines, artists and other independent publishers. The event was held at a gallery in West Chelsea, in the former Dia Art Foundation space. Judging from the very healthy turnout, independent book publishing is alive and well. The event was organized by Printed Matter, the world’s largest non-profit organization dedicated to the promotion of publications made by artists.

So much to see: from free, photocopied pamphlets piled up on milk crates to precious antique tomes, housed in glass cases.

By the time I made it back to my neighborhood theater, all the afternoon showings of Casino Royale were sold out. Grrr. I generally try to avoid blockbusters on opening weekend for precisely this reason — the crowds, the inordinate amount of planning required… not to mention that AMC just raised ticket prices to $11(!) — but I was intrigued to see Daniel Craig reinvent the James Bond role. Could he really be “the best Bond since Connery?”

B was game to join me, so after loading up on reinforcements (i.e., chocolate Twizzlers and Hershey kisses), we hit the theater the recommended hour in advance to queue up outside the theater entrance. There was the usual jockeying for line position, and sneaky shenanigans, but we secured our prime seats and sat back to enjoy the show.

I’d managed until then to avoid most of the film reviews, so knew very little about the plot going in. Does it matter, really? There are international terrorists and beautiful women involved, and one squirm-inducing torture scene, that made the men in the theater very, very uncomfortable. When I first heard that Craig was selected to take up the mantle left by Pierce Brosnan, I was skeptical, but Craig admirably filled the bill. Casino Royale, being an “origins” picture like Batman Begins, introduces a young, hungry Bond, ambivalent about his chosen profession. It sets the scene for the character’s evolution from cocky thug to suave spy. In that sense Craig was perfect as Bond 1.0: he pulled off the action sequences with ease, humor, and a good deal of raw charisma, while still emoting a certain emotional vulnerability. And when he preened before the mirror for the first time in his new tuxedo, Craig looked as dashing as Connery or Brosnan ever did.

The film sets up the intriguing idea that the people most responsible for defining Bond — his steely-eyed dispassion, his ruthlessness, his misogyny, his drink, his dinner jacket — were women: M (Judi Dench) and Bond girl exemplar Vesper Lynd (Eva Green). I first saw Green in her film debut in Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Dreamers (2003). Actually, far more of Green than was on display in Casino Royale; Fox Searchlight released the film in its original NC-17 form.

Casino Royale maintained a tight rein on the double entendres, super high-tech gadgets and over-the-top action sequences. Even the opening black-and-white scene, showing Bond earning his 00-agent status, was a bit of a departure from the usual: not a single fiery explosion, speeding plane, train, or automobile in sight, which made the violence, and ensuing body count, much more personal. My favorite set-piece was also remarkably-free of CGI special effects: an extended foot chase through the streets of Madagascar between Bond and Parkour promoter Sébastien Foucan, playing an African bombmaker with super-human agility.

Craig’s 007 opened at No. 1 in 49 of the 50 countries where it’s showing; Americans gave a slight edge to the tap-dancing penguin. Still, with many major foreign territories yet to go, including Japan, Korea, Italy and Australia, the movie is on course to surpass 2002’s Die Another Day to become the top-grossing Bond installment. Bring on more Blond Bond.

Infinite Jest, most excellent fancy

In cooperation with the National Book Critics Circle, Housing Works Used Book Café in SoHo was hosting Jest Fest 2006: an event to celebrate the 10th anniversary of David Foster Wallace‘s postmodern behemoth of a novel, Infinite Jest.

Wallace’s debut novel, The Broom of the System (1987) and his story collection, Girl With Curious Hair (1989) earned him one of those “Young Writers to Watch” reputations. His much anticipated follow-up arrived on the literary scene in 1996 to a hurricane of hype, and almost universally lauding reviews. Harper’s Bazaar hailed Infinite Jest a worthy contender for the next Great American Novel; Newsday’s Dan Cryer raved, “This book teems with so much life and death, so much hilarity and pain, so much gusto in the face of despair that one cheers for the future of our literature.” The often harsh Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times called Wallace “one of the big talents of his generation, a writer of virtuosic talents who can seemingly do anything.” The book was called “truly remarkable” (Newsweek), “spectacularly good” (New York Magazine) and “brilliant.” (San Francisco Chronicle.)

A stunning accomplishment for a writer then not yet 35 years old, for a supremely ambitious second novel–1,079 pages, including 90 pages of esoteric endnotes–that defies easy categorization or synopsizing. The subject matter ranges from drugs, tennis and political coups; a rambling cast of characters includes a filmmaker, government operatives, politicians, spies, tennis prodigies, suicidal drug addicts, their friends and lovers and the prettiest girl of all time (“PGOAT” – in signature Wallace parlance.) The near-future setting is a fascist state, dubbed the Organization of North American Nations (ONAN)–which the United States forced Canada and Mexico to join–where even the calendar years are auctioned off for corporate sponsorship, to droll effect. To wit: the Year of Glad and the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment (YDAU.)

Tonight was billed as an evening of discussion and readings by both people involved with the book and fans of IJ. Sadly, Wallace himself, who is notoriously publicity-shy, did not participate.

Wallace’s editors were there, reading brief excerpts from the book, and sharing anecdotes about the man, and the unique challenges to editing and marketing his work. (No doubt! Dare I mention again: 1,079 pages? ):

Lev Grossman, author and book critic/technology writer for Time, discussing the novel’s impact with Laura Miller, Salon editor and sometime New York Times book critic, who interviewed Wallace in March 1996.

The screenwriter, currently adapting Infinite Jest for film, read the excerpt: “TENNIS AND THE FERAL PRODIGY”, NARRATED BY HAL INCANDENZA, AN 11.5-MINUTE DIGITAL ENTERTAINMENT CARTRIDGE DIRECTED, RECORDED, EDITED, AND–ACCORDING TO THE ENTRY FORM–WRITTEN BY MARIO INCANDENZA, IN RECEIPT OF NEW-NEW-ENGLAND REGIONAL HONORABLE MENTION IN INTERLACE TELENTERTAINMENT’S ANNUAL “NEW EYES, NEW VOICES” YOUNG FILMMAKERS’ CONTEST, APRIL IN THE YEAR OF THE YUSHITYU 2007 MIMETIC-RESOLUTION-CARTRIDGE-VIEW-MOTHERBOARD-EASY-TO- INSTALL UPGRADE FOR INFERNATRON / INTERLACE TP SYSTEMS FOR HOME, OFFICE OR MOBILE (SIC), ALMOST EXACTLY THREE YEARS AFTER DR. JAMES O. INCANDENZA PASSED FROM THIS LIFE.

Todd Hanson, head writer for The Onion, with his former co-editor (and ex-girlfriend) Carol Kolb. The pair staged a reading of the Onion piece from 2003: “Girlfriend Stops Reading David Foster Wallace Breakup Letter At Page 20.” The bit struck me as typical of a lot of Onion pieces (and SNL sketches): hinged on a single, sometimes funny, premise — DFW writes really long books! — followed by an ever slightly too long piece that spends the majority of the space reiterating that same joke, to diminishing effect. In this case, bonus points for wink-wink erudite jokiness, only amusing to those few familiar with Wallace’s writing style. (I can’t imagine a more receptive audience on that score.) Sprawling, half-page sentences? Check!  Liberal use of acronyms? Check!  Endless footnotes? Check!  By the time Hanson reached the point in the faux-letter describing the chemical make-up of crystal meth (no, seriously), the audience had had enough.

And the biggest draw of the evening: John Krasinski, who plays Jim Halpert on NBC’s The Office. Krasinski is currently working on the film adaptation of Wallace’s 1999 collection of short stories, Brief Interviews With Hideous Men–writing, directing, and possibly starring in a small role. He animatedly read the story, “Victory for the Forces of Democratic Freedom”–which was bizarre, funny, intense and dark all at once… a description befitting of a lot of Wallace’s writings.

Krasinski lingered around after the event, charmingly chatting up the gaggle of (predominantly female) fans that descended on him after the final word was read. Ooh, isn’t he dreamy?