Entertainment
Estevan Oriol and Teen Angel see eye to eye in exhibition 'Dedicated to You'
Street photographer and artist Estevan Oriol, best known for his image of the “L.A. fingers,” remembers frequenting the corner of Fourth and Soto streets in Boyle Heights in the 1990s to pick up the latest issue Teen Angel, an art zine named after its creator that portrayed Chicano life. Oriol felt the magazine’s subject matter mirrored his own work — he was using his camera lens to capture Chicano life while Angel did it with his colorful, hand-drawn illustrations.
Now, the work of both artists is on display in “Dedicated to You,” a new exhibition at Melrose gallery Beyond the Streets.
Open until Sept. 15, the show explores the various intersections between two artists’ bodies of work while doubling as a window into L.A.’s youth Chicano culture of the 1990s and early 2000s. On display are photographs, drawings and artifacts that provide an often neglected history of the city that raised them. The exhibit allows for their work to come together in depicting a rich vignette of “the culture.”
Same time, same place
Oriol, 57, says he doesn’t consider himself to be inspired by Angel but someone who was experiencing the same city concurrently.
“It was cool because, at that time, I was shooting all that kind of stuff like the homies, the lowriders and the girls. I was right there side by side doing what was in the magazine,” said Oriol.
On the gallery’s opening night, a line of vintage lowriders and motorcycles lined La Brea Avenue. The show’s poster, a large black and white image of a young Chicano couple kissing, acted as a background to the impromptu car show.
Within the gallery’s glass walls are Oriol’s negative contact sheets. The film rolls depict old Echo Park gang graffiti, lowriders caught mid bounce, tattooed women, and shots of celebrities like Snoop Dogg and Danny Trejo.
Born in Santa Monica, Oriol says he got his first taste of Hollywood after he began working as a doorman for several L.A. nightclubs in the ‘80s The job allowed him to connect with hip-hop groups like Cypress Hill, Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. and Rhyme Syndicate.
“Everybody would mix at these clubs. You would see some break dancers here and some new wavers there,” he said. “There were cholos and rockers with crazy hairspray looks. We were all just starting. Everything was new and fresh.”
Oriol eventually landed a job as a tour manager for hip-hop group House of Pain. Around the same time, Oriol’s dad gave him a camera.
“My dad told me to start shooting all the stuff that you’re around,” Oriol said. “At that time, I was also building a lowrider and I was in a car club in East L.A. We used to have our meetings on Beverly and Atlantic at the Mobil gas station.”
Every Friday, Oriol would cruise all around Los Angeles, from Whittier Boulevard to Hollywood Boulevard — along the way he snapped photos.
“It wasn’t just showing up and taking pictures of something that I wasn’t a part of,” Oriol said. “I’m not an outsider. A lot of photographers who don’t come from the culture and take pictures of it say they want to do their own narrative. I’m not trying to do that. It is what it is. I just shoot what I see.”
Visitors of the gallery are met with several glass cases with relics from both Oriol and Angel’s lives — an arsenal of Oriol’s cameras fills the shelves, along with several pairs of Nike Cortez sneakers hanging from a wire, memorial candles and a hubcap from one of his first cars.
Angel’s display is centered on the very desk and chair where he created the magazine, complete with cigarette burns and paint splatters. Images of his workspace and home the day after his passing sit atop the desk. When Angel died in 2015, Oriol, despite never having met him, was invited to come take pictures of how he left everything. On both sides of the desk, more parts of his private life can be seen including his glasses, a model ship and several figurines of his popular drawings.
The man behind the magazine
Born Dave Holland in Indiana, the reclusive Angel chased his obsession with old Chevys to Southern California in the 1970s, landing a job as an illustrator for Lowrider magazine. In 1980, he founded Teen Angel, which focused on publishing artwork by the incarcerated and putting a spotlight on what Chicano culture looked like at the time.
David De Baca, one of Angel’s closest friends who is now manager of his estate, helped curate the show at Beyond the Streets. He says seeing Oriol’s work paired with Angel’s is something that always made sense to him.
“Estevan sees beauty in these neighborhoods and he photographs it. And in the same sense, that’s the way Teen Angel was,” De Baca said. “He saw beauty in the neighborhood and through his magazine, you would see drawings of cholos and cholas and street scenes of a neighborhood where it was a little gritty and there’s graffiti on the wall. But, when it’s laid out appropriately in artwork, you see the beauty in it. He and Estevan always saw the same kind of beauty.”
A bookshelf, complete with every issue of Teen Angel, is positioned next to a wall featuring the magazine’s original cover art and other works. The complete collection belongs to Bryan Ray Turcotte, who has spent the last decade hunting down every issue. As a skater kid involved in the DIY scene, Turcotte says the publication was very meaningful in his adolescence.
“[Teen Angel] was so haphazard about his numbering system,” said Turcotte of amassing his collection. “There’s all these offshoots of magazines that popped up in the middle of the run, so I had to do massive amounts of research to figure out how many there actually were.”
Rooted in dedication
One wall at the gallery is devoted to “Silent Signals,” a recurring series in the magazine that featured various hand signals meant to discreetly communicate with a romantic interest. His signature “Traviesa Twins,” reoccurring characters in the issues, hold up different signs that communicate the alphabet. Next to each of Angel’s drawings, Oriol puts a modern-day twist on the signals by taking photos of Latinas mirroring the twins. Together, the wall acts as a connection point between Teen Angel’s drawings from 43 years ago to today’s culture.
In the neighboring room, massive vinyl cutouts of Angel’s drawings fill the gaps between Oriol’s prints, including “L.A. Fingers.” To the photographer, the show is all about making the viewer feel something. But when he walks through the gallery himself, he gets “pissed off.”
“I start to think of all the pictures that I didn’t take,” Oriol said. “Or the days that I f—ing didn’t have my camera or I think about how I had my camera and I didn’t take a picture of something, like what a f—ing idiot.”
Despite never having met, dedication lies at the center of everything Angel created and Oriol continues to create.
“It’s dedicated to the West Coast,” Oriol said. “It’s dedicated to the homies that passed away. It’s dedicated to everyone who’s part of this or however you want to put it. For me, it’s dedicated to this city.”
Movie Reviews
The Juice Is Loose: ‘BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE’ (2024) – Movie Review – PopHorror
Beetlejuice is an important movie for me. “Nice fucking model” was the first time I heard an F bomb. It was my introduction to Tim Burton and my first goth girl crush, in Lydia Deetz. I’ve revisited the film many times over the years and it’s still a favorite of mine and I thought a sequel would never happen. When Beetlejuice Beetlejuice was announced I was cautiously optimistic. My girlfriend and I are huge Tim Burton fans so we went to see the film on opening day with her son.
Here’s my thoughts on Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.
Synopsis
After a family tragedy, three generations of the Deetz family return home to Winter River. Still haunted by Beetlejuice, Lydia’s life is turned upside down when her teenage daughter, Astrid, accidentally opens the portal to the Afterlife.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice was directed by Tim Burton (Beetlejuice) from a script by Al Gough and Miles Millar (Wednesday) based on a story by Gough, Millar and Seth Graham-Smith (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies). The film stars Michael Keaton (Beetlejuice), Winona Ryder (Edward Scissorhands), Catherine O’Hara (Nightmare Before Christmas), Jenna Ortega (X), Justin Theroux (Your Highness), Willem Dafoe (Poor Things) and Monica Bellucci (Irreversible).
It was an absolute pleasure to see Keaton, Ryder and O’Hara back on screen together after all these years. Keaton’s Beetlejuice is still a manipulative sleazeball, but is infinitely more likable. Ryder’s Lydia is still the lovable goth girl we know and love, though haunted by a lifetime of trauma and has to rediscover herself. O’Hara Delia is still loud and brash, but has grown into a loving stepmom and grandmother. Ortega’s Astrid is a welcome addition to the cast, sharing some traits of Lydia while very much being her father’s daughter.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is far from a rehash of the first film. It feels more grown up, darker, dirtier and quite a bit gorier, while still being funny as hell. The film pulls influence from Gothic horror films, specifically the films of Mario Bava, who is a actually referenced in the film. Bellucci’s Delores feels like a character Barbara Steele would have played in the 60’s. The make up and special effects are very old school, using traditional makeup effects and stop motion animation. The production design is gorgeous. We get to see more of the other side, which was a nice change of pace. The story gives everyone their part to play and everything coalesces into an absolutely grand finale.
Final Thoughts
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a sequel that honors what came before but is bigger, bolder and bloodier than what came before. The new additions to the cast liven things up and up the stakes. The film was an absolute blast to watch in theaters. My girlfriend, her son and I all loved it! Highly recommend.
Entertainment
Kathy Bates eyes retirement from acting after 'Matlock' reboot: 'This is my last dance'
Kathy Bates is ready to leave Hollywood behind — after one last hoorah.
Bates, whose decades-long acting career has earned her an Oscar and a couple of Emmys, revealed that her retirement is imminent. The “American Horror Story” and “Misery” star said in a recent interview that her upcoming turn in CBS’ reboot of the Andy Griffith procedural “Matlock” will be her final screen project.
“This is my last dance,” Bates told the New York Times in an interview published Sunday.
“Matlock” stars the 76-year-old “Harry’s Law” alum as Madeline “Matty” Matlock, whom CBS describes as “a brilliant septuagenarian.” Embarking on a new chapter of her career, Bates’ character joins a prestigious law firm, “where she uses her unassuming demeanor and wily tactics to win cases.”
While it seems that “Matlock” will mark the end of Bates’ career, the Memphis-born actor said she had contemplated retirement even before the reboot came her way. Bates told the New York Times that she wanted to end her career after a movie shoot had gone awry. A day after filming on the unnamed project, Bates reportedly called her agents to inform them she was ready to retire.
Then, in January, she received the scripts for the “Matlock” reboot.
Bates, who is an executive producer on “Matlock,” said she sees the show as an opportunity to showcase the skills she has honed over the course of her career. Her credits also include films “Titanic” and “Fried Green Tomatoes” and appearances on the TV series “The Office” and “Two and a Half Men.”
“Everything I’ve prayed for, worked for, clawed my way up for, I am suddenly able to be asked to use all of it,” she said, before adding, “It’s exhausting.”
In The Times’ fall preview, columnist Mary McNamara wrote that “Matlock” “is a showcase for Bates.”
“I think we can all agree that she is always worth showcasing,” she wrote.
“Matlock” premieres on CBS Sept. 22 at 8 p.m. The series, from showrunner Jennie Snyder Urman, also stars Skye P. Marshall, Jason Ritter, David Del Rio and Leah Lewis.
Movie Reviews
‘Without Blood’ Review: Salma Hayek Pinault and Demián Bichir in Angelina Jolie’s Overly Cautious War Parable
A woman (Salma Hayek Pinault) walks into a plaza sparsely occupied by patrons enjoying an afternoon coffee and a magazine and lottery ticket kiosk. She approaches the booth and fingers a stack of newspapers before asking the attendant (Demián Bichir), an older man with rounded shoulders and reading glasses perched on his nose, a question. Her delivery is studied, as if a more natural cadence battles against an inherent severity. She begs the man to close up the shop and have a drink with her. Her mannered sweetness becomes more urgent with his refusal. This is a command, not a request.
Premiering at the Toronto Film Festival, Without Blood is Angelina Jolie’s latest foray into directing. The actress, who is making waves this festival season with her performance in Pablo Larrain’s Maria, adapted this thinly plotted parable from the novella of the same name by the Italian writer Alessandro Baricco. Without Blood obliquely investigates the psychological and generational toll of war.
Without Blood
The Bottom Line Plays it safe.
Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Special Presentations)
Cast: Salma Hayek Pinault, Demián Bichir, Juan Minujin
Director: Angelina Jolie
Screenwriter: Angelina Jolie, Alessandro Baricco
1 hour 31 minutes
Jolie treads familiar ground here: A handful of her previous directorial efforts, including In the Land of Blood and Honey, Unbroken and First They Killed My Father, set their action against the distressing backdrop of war. Whereas these other films grounded themselves with the details of real conflicts like the Bosnian War or the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia, Without Blood claims no land or era. This lack of specificity may have worked in the hands of a more risk-taking helmer, but Jolie’s approach to direction can be as stiff as the woman’s initial encounter with the kiosk attendant. Despite bursts of intelligence, especially when it comes to conveying the fractured quality of trauma narratives, Without Blood’s vagueness ends up blunting many of its lessons.
An uneasy tension hangs in the air as the man and woman settle into a nearby restaurant. She begins to tell her story, parts of which Jolie shows early in a confidently staged scene. Her name is Nina, and when she was a young girl, three men broke into her house and executed her father (Alfredo Herrera) and brother (Alessandro D’Antuono). While her father’s screams overwhelmed the bungalow and her brother’s blood dripped onto her ankle, Nina hid silently in a burrow beneath some floorboards.
Her fate became lore in this unnamed country where a years-long battle brewed between two factions. Whether that conflict is regional or political is never made clear and, in Jolie’s estimation, is not relevant. Without Blood is more concerned with how all war wounds people, from its youngest victims to its oldest perpetrators. Most of the film takes place in a cafe, where Nina and the man, whose name we later learn is Tito, exchange different versions of her fate. In Nina’s telling, she is adopted by a pharmacist (Pedro Hernández), who gambles her off to a count (Luis Alberti). She ends up married at 14 and bearing the wealthy baron three sons. As Tito tells it, Nina’s union was a botched assassination turned marital arrangement: The count fell in love instead of killing her. The truth lies somewhere between Nina’s scarred memories and Tito’s vague recollections. In between these exchanges, the pair offer platitudes about the dangers (but never the details) of war.
The conversation between Nina and Tito swings between gripping moments and duller ones that are helped along by Hayek Pinault and Bichir’s tense banter. Their chemistry is defined by mutual recognition and shared trauma. Hayek Pinault hones in on understated motions — tears welling up in the eyes, tightening the grip on her spoon or pursing her lips — to convey the depth of her character’s pain. Bichir nails the subtle shifts required from his character, whose innocence becomes less black-and-white over the film’s brisk 90-minute runtime.
Still, Jolie’s overly cautious visual language limits the impact of the drama. Flashbacks to the pair’s past offer some dynamic moments, like bird’s-eye-view shots that suggest Tito has been watching Nina over the years, gesturing at their linked fates. There’s beauty here, too, as Jolie captures the vividness of the ochre landscape. For the most part, though, she relies on close-ups, toggling between the two diners’ faces in straightforward edits by Xavier Box and Joel Cox.
That innocent people suffer from conflict is not a provocative stance. But it seems like the only point Without Blood can make when it’s not focused — more interestingly — on observing how trauma lives in the body and shapes the mind. Despite flashes of power, the story ultimately seems too thin to bear the weight of its themes.
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