Daily Bruin

By John Sabatini

With a new album released in June and an enviable opening spot
on Metallica’s U.S. arena tour, this has been a colossal summer for
Suicidal Tendencies, the veteran Venice surfer metal/punk band
which has been scaring parents and evangelists for years.

But don’t expect Suicidal to achieve "breakthrough" or pop
status any time soon. Lead singer Mike Muir insists that this is
one band which refuses to be driven by dollar signs and bottom
lines, especially where that means simply following current music
trends.

"I think the problem with most people in the music business is
that they’re in the music business because they don’t want to
work," says Muir. "They’re basically prostitutes, so they need to
do whatever (they can) to be successful."

In fact, Muir even seems to relish the fact that some people do
not like or even understand the band or its music.

"I think that’s great. We hammer the point back that we don’t
like them either," Muir asserts. "I think where most people get
into trouble is trying to be liked.

"We don’t want everyone to like Suicidal Tendencies," he
continues. "If everyone did, we’d be miserable. It would be a
tremendous responsibility that would force us to basically end the
band."

Consistent with this nonconformist attitude, the band has almost
completely foregone the possibility of reaching listeners through
MTV or radio play with their latest album. Of the 13 tracks on
"Suicidal for Life," only a handful feature no profanity.

"People say that makes it very difficult. But difficult for
what? To be like a lot of other bands?" Muir asks. "If we were
concerned with that, when we started off 12 years ago, we would
have been sounding like Madonna."

Muir suspects that it is precisely the strong, independent
identity of Suicidal Tendencies that has made the band public enemy
number one for so many people over the years.

"Even stuff people don’t like, they like to fit into a certain
category … and the music of Suicidal has never fit in," he says.
"(People) like it when someone has a certain look, they know what
it is, and they say ‘OK, that’s the way the person is.’"

Suicidal Tendencies has always threatened such a system. Muir
remembers the band’s earliest projects being rejected by the
established and strongly separatist metal and punk camps. Muir
suggests that only later did both scenes follow in Suicidal’s
direction.

Even now, with a loosened punk/metal dichotomy and the band’s
greater acceptance, Suicidal’s defiance of categorization and
stereotypes persists. Muir argues that Suicidal fans still aren’t
typical metalhead concertgoers, and this, coupled with the band’s
own conviction, frightens many people.

Thus, Muir feels the only real barrier to even greater
acceptance of the band and its music is unenlightened prejudice
with respect to the band members themselves or the fans.

"We always said the number one reason why people don’t like
Suicidal Tendencies is they haven’t heard the music," Muir asserts.
"They have a lot of reasons, but it’s not the music.

"If they don’t like the way we look, if they don’t like the
racial makeup of the band, that’s fine. I don’t really care," says
Muir. "But when people talk who are into the band, they talk about
the music, and that’s the important thing. So I think people like
us for the right reason, and I think they don’t like us for the
wrong reasons."

In fact, prejudice has been, and continues to be, a major
consideration for Suicidal Tendencies, especially where the police
and live shows are involved.

"There’s been shows where you get there and (the police) have
the paddy wagons," says Muir. "They predetermine that there’s gonna
be problems, so they have to go out there and fill it. You can
always tell how many people are going to be arrested by how many
cops will be there beforehand."

On a similar, but even more serious note, a run-in with an
officer as a youth growing up in Venice provided an experience of
disillusionment for Muir.

"Some people say, ‘Well, the guy’s wearing a badge, he’s a good
guy,’" Muir notes. "Well, that may be nice, but the first time I
got basically beat down by a cop – of many times – it was not
because he was a good guy. It was because he was a bad guy who had
a badge."

Muir feels that most people just don’t want to hear about such
injustices. He argues that a majority of people only hear exactly
what they want to hear, so that they can continue living in their
own self-constructed realities.

"Most people like to be in the dark," Muir laments. "And I think
a lot of times, it’s basically the situation that we’re trained not
to speak the truth."

But the members of Suicidal Tendencies have taken it upon
themselves to break this silence, regardless of the response from
the police or the rest of the establishment. So Suicidal can be
counted on to continue scaring those souls for some time to
come.

By Colburn Tseng

Writer-director Rory Kelly slouches in a chair at the Westwood
Marquis Hotel munching on cookies when he makes a surprising
disclosure. The topic of conversation is the UCLA film school
graduate’s employment history before directing his debut feature
"Sleep With Me," which recently opened in New York and Los
Angeles.

After working as a camera assistant and in special effects on
several films, Kelly decided that if he wanted to make his own
films, he needed to get out of production. "So I thought, ‘What
stupid job can I get that I don’t have to define myself by?’" says
Kelly. "So I went to the archive at UCLA and got a job as the film
traffic manager.

"It was actually a cool job," Kelly quickly adds with a broad
smile. Dressed casually in a green denim shirt, jeans and Nikes,
the 33-year-old’s friendly enthusiasm is almost contagious. "I had
my own office and a computer, and I used to shut the door to the
office all the time and smoke cigarettes and write screenplays. Oh,
I was bad! I was the Archive’s worst employee of all time, there’s
no doubt about it. ‘Cause I got the job down to a science. I could
literally do it two hours a day."

If Kelly’s most recent career advancement is any indication,
then his days at the archive were well spent. With an ensemble cast
including Eric Stoltz, Meg Tilly, Craig Sheffer and a hilarious
cameo by "Pulp Fiction" writer-director Quentin Tarantino, "Sleep
With Me" is a smart, wickedly funny comedy about love, sex and
commitment in the ’90s.

Structured around a group of friends at several different social
gatherings, the film was written by Kelly and five other writers.
Kelly’s original conception of "Sleep With Me" was a low-budget, 16
mm. film he would show on the film festival circuit. Kelly and
Roger Hedden, writer of "Bodies, Rest, & Motion," would write
the screenplay and ask their friends to be in it.

"Roger and I structured the thing out and came up with this
party structure, which we were actually stealing from "The Great
Gatsby," of all places," Kelly explains. "Parties and cars, that’s
what that book is. So is "Sleep With Me."

"After we came up with that idea, we were more intrigued with
what kind of parties we could have. So we made a list of parties.
And then Neal Jimenez, who’s like a rabid poker player, found out
there was a poker scene, and asked if he could write it. So then we
thought, ‘Oh jeez. What scene could we best match with a friend
who’s a writer?’"

Jimenez, whose numerous credits include "River’s Edge" and "The
Waterdance," which he also co-directed, was a friend of Kelly’s
from their student days at UCLA. Another writer, Michael Steinberg,
was also a friend from UCLA. Steinberg, who also produced Sleep
With Me, directed "Bodies, Rest & Motion," and co-directed "The
Waterdance" with Jimenez. The rest of the writing chores were
handled by screenwriter Duane Dell’Amico and novelist Joe
Keenan.

The script was written almost simultaneously, with each of the
six working with little or no knowledge of the others’ scenes. "For
the most part, we had no plot for the movie," Kelly reveals. "Roger
Hedden and I sketched out this thing where a guy falls in love with
the best friend’s wife a day before the wedding. Then what happens?
And what we really came up with was that they go to a barbecue,
they play poker, there’s a dinner party and a tea party, and then
we came up with two key plot points."

To reveal these two points would spoil the movie. But as long as
those two things happened, each writer was free to do anything he
wanted. "So we just kind of threw it together that way, but that
made it fun," Kelly recalls. "I’m making it sound like it was so
arbitrary when in fact it wasn’t, because, you know, we’re all
serious writers … It was like a jazz improv. You just had to come
back to the theme eventually."

Eric Stoltz was the first actor to sign on. But even with Stoltz
aboard, Kelly still intended to shoot the film on 16 mm. "I’ve
known Eric for four or five years, so even having him in the movie
just seemed normal to me because he comes to my house for
basketball games and stuff … but once we got Meg Tilly, we said
‘Ah! Let’s get some money.’"

While some might suspect a film written by six people to suffer
from disjointedness, "Sleep With Me" flows very naturally. The
performances are superb, and the scenes, distinctly separated in
the film by title cards, blend perfectly. Kelly attributes this to
the unique friendships between the writers and the actors.

"You take these six writers who have known each other for years
and have them get together and write a script essentially about
themselves. We’re all characters in the film. So you’re taking
these guys who all know each other intimately, who have this odd
intimate knowledge of all the characters.

"And then you take this group of actors who’ve essentially known
each other for as long as the writers have. So they take this
script about a group of friends, written by a group of friends,
played by a group of friends, and it suddenly becomes this really
intimate unforced thing …

"It has the feel of a Little Rascals episode. Let’s make a
movie, and you all go to Darla’s house, and I’m Spanky, and I’m in
charge of the camera. You know what I mean? And we just made this
movie."

By Judith Newman
The New York Times

NEW YORK — Worried that the Menendez brothers’ trial, violent
movies and talk-show depravity have numbed the nation’s sense of
moral outrage? Worry no more. It’s there.

If you have any doubts, just walk into a bookstore and request a
book about modeling geared toward prepubescent girls.

"You want what?" said a clerk at Books of Wonder, the children’s
bookstore in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. "I’m sorry, we
wouldn’t carry anything like that, thank God." At Tower Books a
clerk glared and asked pointedly: "You want this book for your
friend’s kid? Do you like this friend?"

Move over Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames; make room for Paige,
Cassandra, Pia, Katerina, Naira and Kerri. These are the youthful
heroines of a new series of young-adult novels, "Ford Supermodels
of the World."

They may not know how to dig for clues or dress a wound, but
they sure know their way around a can of mousse.

The premise of the series: Thanks to the Ford Models agency – in
real life, one of the world’s leading agencies – six girls have
been brought together from various points on the globe to live in a
Manhattan apartment (scrupulously supervised by a "den mother")
while trying to make it in the glamorous world of modeling.

Readers of the two books that have been issued so far, at $3.99
each, can follow the 15- and 16-year-old models on their rounds as
they learn about stylists, photographers and test shoots.

They hang out at a coffee bar, have above-the-neck romances with
age-appropriate guys and debate the finer points of makeup, hair
and clothing with an intellectual rigor that bespeaks thousands of
hours well spent in the company of Ken and Barbie.

Curiously absent from the early modeling experiences: drugs,
smoking, anxiety about weight, bookers who expect large cash
bonuses at Christmas and over-the-hill rock stars with scary
haircuts.

"Because young girls emulate models, we wanted to use the venue
of the modeling business as the basis for a new lifestyle
property," said Richard Goldsmith, a former Disney executive whose
new company, Hollywood Ventures, brought Ford and Random House
together for the series.

The books – by Christina Lowenstein, who writes for young adults
under the pen name B.B. Calhoun – "are not about the modeling
business per se," Goldsmith said.

"They’re about young girls out in the working world who are
dealing with the problems all girls their age have," he said.

Each book, he said, has a message. For example, the first, "The
New Me" (first printing, 50,000), tells girls to "Just Be
Yourself," a lesson certain to take them far, but maybe not in the
fashion industry.

"I see the books as a way of building the reader’s self-esteem:
You can go out and be a working person in whatever you choose to
do," Goldsmith said. "We’re trying to use these girls as role
models."

Not surprisingly, David Elkind, a professor of child studies at
Tufts University and the author of "The Hurried Child: Growing Up
Too Fast, Too Soon" (Addison-Wesley, 1988), sees modeling as too
passive a profession for 10-year-olds to aspire to.

"I see this as just another example of the need for adults to
market things to kids that takes precedence over what’s in the best
interest of the children," he said.

"These books will probably do no more harm than kids’ reading
about ballerinas, another profession that very few kids will
actually go into. But at least with ballet there are skills you can
master."

And then there are the reactions of models themselves.

"Oh good, just what we need: more reasons for little kids to pay
attention to their looks," said Susan Beeson de Havenon, a fashion
and interiors stylist who briefly modeled with Ford in her teens
and 20s.

"I came to New York from Johnson City, Tenn., and I was like
Ellie May Clampett," she recalled. "I lived on diet pills,
cigarettes and Tab."

As a teenager in Germany, Angela Spilker walked the runways for
the likes of Claude Montana. She left the business after a few
years, but recently returned, in her late 20s.

"I love Eileen Ford," she said. "I think she’s a great woman.
But books like this, they’re bull. Do you know how many people drop
out of high school, come to Ford and don’t make it?"

For her part, Eileen Ford, the doyenne of modeling agents,
doesn’t understand what the fuss is about.

"Reading about models isn’t going to make every girl in America
feel she must become a model," she said. "When I was a kid I read
every Nancy Drew novel I could save up the money for, and I didn’t
become a detective, did I?"

In fact, the real heroine of these books is the Ford modeling
agency itself. The series consistently gives the impression that
Ford is a kind of finishing school for pretty girls, not a business
that profits from them.

For example, the books don’t address the costs of beginning a
modeling career: just about every expense, from the film at test
photography sessions to the messenger who drops off the photographs
at a client’s office, is deducted from the model’s earnings.

"The modeling industry presents itself to the public in the same
way that fashion magazines present models to the public," said
Michael Gross, a senior writer at Esquire whose book on the history
of modeling, "Model: The Ugly Business of Beautiful Women," will be
published in the spring by William Morrow.

"It makes itself up, it does its hair, it puts on makeup and it
dons very attractive and alluring clothing. Who it’s trying to
attract is 15-year-old girls, because they’re the raw meat the
business processes into an endless string of sausage."

All right, so grown-ups see more than a shred of opportunism
behind the "Ford Supermodels of the World" series. But the real
question is, How do girls – the 10- and 11-year-olds who are on a
first-name basis with Claudia, Christy, Amber, Naomi and Bridget –
feel about the series?

Only two books in the series have been released – "The New Me"
and "Party Girl" – so it’s too early to judge by sales.

But from the reactions of several girls who read the book, well,
let’s just say those "Baby-Sitters Club" girls might think about
modeling as a new career opportunity.

After reading "The New Me" in one sitting, Claire Walsh, 10, of
Rye, N.Y., vowed to read the rest of the series. While all aspects
of modeling are attractive to Claire – "especially having people do
your hair and makeup and stuff" – she has one reservation: "You
have to get up early to go to work. And I’m just not a morning
person."

Claire’s friend Glenna Gross, 10, also loved "The New Me," and
plans to become a model, over the strong objections of her mother,
Kim Johnson Gross, a former model who is now a book editor.

"We’ve always told her that looks are secondary to education and
developing other talents," she said. "If she wants to read these
books, she’ll have to use her allowance money."

"I’ll take them out of the library," Glenna retorted.

When Gross pointed out that if she had remained in modeling, "I
wouldn’t have met your daddy," Glenna was unfazed. "But if you had
stayed in modeling, you could’ve stolen Cindy Crawford’s husband,"
she said.

If her mother lets her – and things are not looking too hopeful
– Glenna plans to enter her picture in the "Cover Model" contest
Ford is sponsoring: Readers are encouraged to send in their photos,
and the winner will become a cover model for a future book in the
series. The winner many also win a contract to the Ford agency.

If Richard Goldsmith has anything to say about it, the
"Supermodels" property will not end with this line of books.

He is working on a comic book deal, a line of hair dryers and
makeup sets for children, a line of high-fashion apparel and an
interactive CD-ROM "that will educate girls about fashion, hair and
makeup."

"You’ll dress a model, and the computer will tell you how well
you did," Goldsmith said. "Listen, these girls are doing this stuff
anyway. We’re just trying to support their interests."

By Jennifer Richmond
Daily Bruin Staff

Death can be a scary thing. But the revelations about oneself
and one’s family that come with impending demise can be the most
wonderful experiences in life. In Scott McPherson’s play "Marvin’s
Room," Bessie (Mary Steenburgen) discovers the importance of these
life lessons.

Bessie has been taking care of her dying father (Craig Wells)
and estranged Aunt Ruth (Jane Cecil) her whole life. Now she finds
she has leukemia. Her sister, Lee (Jean Smart) wants to help, so
she drags her two sons, Hank (Chad Cox) and Charlie (Jonathan
Charles Kaplan) to Florida in hopes of finding a match in their
bone marrow.

However, it is not the main plot itself, but each individual’s
story that makes the play so involving and enjoyable for the
audience.

Bessie’s sweet, giving nature will crack a smile on the toughest
poker face. Although almost pitiful, Bessie’s lifestyle has
something that allows the audience to connect with her in one way
or another. Her fear of dying is real, and her overwhelming love
toward Ruth and Marvin are undeniable. But it’s not until she’s
face to face with her sister that she realizes another section of
her life is just as important as the one she’s currently living –
their relationship.

Her relationship with a sister she hasn’t seen in at least 17
years brings laughs and tears from the audience, which can see a
little of themselves in the two women. Bessie wants very much to be
involved with her sister once again. The audience watches
Steenburgen as she tries to support her sister. Her pleas to an
unhearing sibling seem very familiar.

But when Lee does not respond, Bessie turns to Hank as her way
to bring the family back together. He’s as lost as the rest of them
– wanting to be a family again, but afraid to let his true feelings
show. Being locked in a mental institution has made him as hard as
his unfeeling mother. He makes up stories to impress Bessie rather
than tell her how much he hates the institution. Cox’s
insensitivity is understandable, but makes one’s blood run cold,
especially during the first scene with his mother.

Once Hank realizes Bessie’s there to help, he opens up with
cautious ease and eventually becomes a part of his mother’s life.
Cox continues his performance with further insensitive remarks, but
the audience can see he’s trying to be slightly more sensitive.
When he finally agrees to have the marrow test it’s like a crack in
his hard shell. And when Steenburgen yells at him for lying about
the test, the audience can tell he really feels awful about the way
he treated her.

Just like Hank, Lee’s story is enough to tear one’s heart out.
But unlike her son, she tells it with laughs rather than hard
seriousness. Smart’s comic attitude presents a wall behind which
lies Lee’s true feelings of fear, loss and guilt. She has so many
feelings that "they’re like a bowl of fish hooks," she’s afraid to
touch because they all come at once rather than one at a time. And
when she finally allows the tears to spill, Hank’s unfeeling side
comes through yet again, cutting her off with unhearing and
unsympathetic ears.

In this one moment the audience finally sees who Lee really is
and how scared she is for both Hank and Bessie. She needs to be
strong. But that strength has created thick walls in need of
stripping. Unfortunately when a wall starts to be torn down, her
fears kick in and the walls go right back up.

Smart’s portrayal of the sister with bottled-up feelings is
surprising. This character is a complete change from her role in
CBS’ "Designing Women." Her wonderful switch from comedy to drama
proves her range in ability. Smart shows that Lee wants to help but
has her hands tied, and she doesn’t have enough confidence to just
be the caring sister Bessie needs.

It’s obvious this family’s in need of healing and the only way
to do it is through the confessions and talks that make up most of
this black comedy. Although both the lead actresses are serious for
the most part, those few moments do exist when a realization hits,
or a line is said that brings this guilt-filled-family closer to
being a tight-knit family filled with care and love. Both Smart and
Steenburgen act their parts perfectly and make it clear to the
audience through gestures and looks how much they truly care for
each other.

But the beauty of the piece doesn’t lie totally on the shoulder
of the two leads. A lot of the brilliance goes to McPherson. His
ability to create laughter around a serious subject is a gift
deserving of note. Although the laughter decreases as the play
continues, the comedic moments are treasures. It’s scenes like this
that make McPherson’s script the perfect mixture – a delightful
comedy with very real and serious undertones.

STAGE: "Marvin’s Room." Written by Scott
McPherson. Directed by Dennis Erdman. Starring Mary Steenburgen and
Jean Smart. Running through Dec. 4 at the Tiffany Theater. Performs
Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 5 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. and Sunday at 3
p.m. and 7:30 p.m. TIX: $32 – $34.50. For more info call (310)
289-2999.

By Lael Loewenstein
In 1895, when future MGM mogul Louis Mayer was in grade school and
Warner Bros. scion Jack Warner in diapers, a young French visionary
named Léon Gaumont took over a photographic equipment firm and
created what was to become one of the world’s foremost film
companies.

A sampling of Gaumont’s films is showcased in the current series
at Melnitz Theater, "Gaumont Presents: A Century of French Film."
The two-month centennial celebration is the result of immense
curatorial efforts. All of the films in the series have been
restored and new 35 mm. prints have been struck, affording viewers
the opportunity to see a number of works rarely screened in the
U.S.

As Nicolas Seydoux, president and CEO of Gaumont, observes, "The
series demonstrates three qualities: continuity, diversity and
evolution. Continuity because of continued quality, diversity
because of the great variety in our films and filmmakers, and
evolution because of the hundred years."

Seydoux does not exaggerate. Today, Gaumont is not only the
world’s oldest film production company, it is also one of the most
prolific. Often credited with the creation of the film industry as
it exists today, Gaumont has produced, distributed and exhibited
close to 7,000 films.

Having started last weekend with the silent films of Alice Guy,
one of the first women writer-directors, and the surreal animated
shorts of Emile Cohl, the series continues all this week with the
melodramatic serials of Louis Feuillade. Feuillade’s controversial
five-part "Les Vampires" (1915), banned by the police as an
"exaltation of evil," was among the first works to glamorize
crime.

Vastly different in tone but also controversial, Carl Dreyer’s
"La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc," (screening Oct. 13) about the life
and death of Joan of Arc, impressed critics but disappointed
audiences when it was released in 1928. History has redeemed
Dreyer, however, and his work is hailed today as a masterpiece of
the silent era.

"I think when they see the early films, people will be surprised
by the experimentation of these filmmakers," Seydoux says. "They
understood how the camera could be utilized." Despite technological
limitations, pioneers like Feuillade and Dreyer explored every
possibility of the camera, introducing surreal dreamlike sequences
and bizarre effects when possible.

Marking the transition to sound, Jean Vigo’s poetic "L’Atalante"
and impressionistic "Zéro de Conduite" (Oct. 23) stand out as
remarkable achievements from a career cut short by Vigo’s untimely
death at 29. Over sixty years after its production, "L’Atalante,"
the story of a newlywed couple’s spiritual and physical journey,
continues to make Sight and Sound’s critics’ list as one of the
greatest films of all time.

Vigo’s films are noteworthy for their evocative treatment of
characters’ psychological states, often infusing poetry, pathos and
passion into the ordinary. "American films tend to express
character relations through action. In European cinema, human
relations are expressed through dialogue and psychological
differences." says Seydoux.

Among the series’ later highlights are works by New Wave auteurs
Robert Bresson and Eric Rohmer (Oct. 27 and 29), comedies by Yves
Robert and Francis Veber (Nov. 3), and films by two of France’s
most celebrated current directors, Jean-Jacques Beineix and Luc
Besson. Beineix’s "Betty Blue" will screen in its uncut three-hour
version on Nov. 26, while Besson’s enormously successful "La Femme
Nikita" wraps up the series on Dec. 3.

Although "Betty Blue" and "La Femme Nikita" evoked controversies
in the U.S. for their explicit sexual content and violence, Seydoux
is undeterred. "Cinema, as an artistic medium, is the product of
imagination. And what is imagination but the right to be
controversial?"

Whether it is controversy or the encroaching fields of
multimedia, television and home video, Seydoux does not worry that
Gaumont will lose its audience. "I believe that cinema is the
headlamp of audio-visual (media). It is the only thing for which
you still leave your home. You make a choice to go outside and have
this experience in common with an audience, to be cut off from the
world for two hours." As Gaumont has demonstrated for a hundred
years, audiences gladly make that choice. As long as Gaumont
continues making films, they will continue to go to the cinema.

FILM: "Gaumont Presents: A Century of French
Cinema." Presented by the UCLA Film and Television Archives.
Melnitz Theater (Oct. 3 – Dec. 3). TIX: $3, $5; matinee: $1.50,
$3