By Molly Gore
By Molly Gore
By Pete Kane
By Lou Bustamante
By Pete Kane
By Ashley Goldsmith
By Pete Kane
By John Birdsall
What the hell is hip? What's trendy, in, retro, mod, kickin', bitchin', sweet, dope, or rad? And what -- in the name of all that was once simply known as "cool" -- is "The Bomb"?
I don't know.
I've never known.
What's more, I have on occasion marveled at those individuals who seem to maneuver in and out of the changing times so seamlessly you'd think they must possess the secret access code to www.whattowear/thisweek.com.
These were my thoughts as I reclined in a tacky but comfortable love seat to watch the opening scenes of the 1996 film that some credit for giving birth to what we have come to know, locally, as the Mission District Hipster -- Swingers.
With my date's legs casually draped across mine, I reached for my beer and another slice of pizza as one swinger astutely counseled another:
"There's nothing wrong with letting the beautiful babies know that you're money. And that you wanna party."
The best thing was that we weren't watching the video at my house. Or her house. Or any house. We weren't even watching a video.
We were, instead, lounging in unprecedented style at Oakland's Parkway Theater. And, as special guests of Will the Thrill (self-proclaimed Lounge Lizard King and MC of the Parkway's "Midnight Lounge"), we were getting the royal treatment.
Mr. Thrill has been hosting the "Midnight Lounge" since the Parkway reopened exactly two years ago. He invited us to join him for his final midnight show as he prepared to shift gears into prime time at the Parkway, where he'll be presenting "Thrillville Theater" every Thursday night at 9.
Our evening started in Thrillville itself, Will's apropos nickname for his postage-stamp studio across Lake Merritt from the theater.
What Thrillville lacks in square footage it more than makes up in hipster memorabilia. Virtually every inch is covered by some sort of medium -- videos, CDs, album covers, posters, books, magazines, and rows of autographed pictures -- all paying homage to the pulp, sci-fi, film noir, and Rat Pack eras of yore. It is a shrine to all things kitsch, with a preponderance of exhibits dedicated to the King and the Chairman of the Board.
I arrived with a donation for the Thrillville collection -- a hardcover "book" that opens to reveal a bottle of Elvis cologne. Dressed in a black and gray Hugh Hefner-esque robe, suede slippers, and a tiki idol necklace, Will rewarded me with a perfect vodka martini (shaken, not stirred).
Monica, Tiki Goddess of the "Midnight Lounge" and Will's "Lovely Assistant"/girlfriend/Elvis Babe, emerged from behind a bamboo shade, decked out in a flowing, satin evening dress with substantial powder-blue eye shadow to match.
These people, I gathered, take their personas seriously.
The tour of Thrillville is an extensive one, even though it can be taken entirely from your seat on the leopard-skin sofa/bed.
While we tripped down memory lane, Monica presented us with a buffet of extraordinary appetizers. Highlights included garlic toast with smoked salmon, sun-dried tomatoes and capers, sauteed bites of scallop with spinach and onions, and awesome homemade samosalike treats she called "salmon potato thingies."
Will followed this with a comprehensive recital of his eventful life story. As the son of a B-movie character actor (Robert Viharo), Will was often exposed to the "darker side" of Hollywood, which served only to strengthen his obsession with previous generations.
His elaborate tale is like the plot of a Bukowski novel: "I was friends with Mickey Rourke. Living in his house. Then one day I got a call from his agent saying I had to clear out. No explanation. I delivered blood for a while. Started writing detective novels while living above a strip joint in the Hotel Europa." The story climaxed with his decision to tie the knot: "I married this woman I knew for a month," he explained with a smirk. "Being a lounge lizard, I had to have an ex-wife. So I decided to get it over with. We got engaged after two weeks. Married two weeks later. And divorced five months after that."
The experience paved the way for his fateful meeting with Monica Tiki Goddess of the "Midnight Lounge":
Will: "Back then I was pulling lovely assistants out of the audience."
Monica: "I showed him my Elvis tattoo."
Will: "After a few more drinks she'll show you, too."
Barry: "What got you into Elvis?"
Monica: "Birth, I think. I've always felt that the King was my calling."
Realizing I was in danger of slipping completely into the surreal milieu of Thrillville, I took a personal timeout to assess whether the background music I was hearing was real or imagined.
Real. (Ultra Lounge, "the greatest music collection of all time.")
As the swinging Elvis clock on the wall approached "Midnight Lounge" time, William Viharo slipped quietly into the "phone booth" closet to transform himself into his alter ego: Will the Thrill.
After he emerged wearing a sharp velvet smoking jacket, black sunglasses, and a "This is Sinatra's world, we just live in it" pin, we headed downstairs to caravan our way to the Parkway. We followed Monica around the lake in her undercover hip-mobile, a purple Mitsubishi Mirage coupe. The only sign of her true identity was the license plate frame reading, "Elvis rocks this ride."