ISHTARRED AND FEATHERED AGAIN

This month, Edgar Wright (director of "Shaun Of The Dead" and "Hot Fuzz) is hosting a series of his personal favorite films at the legendary New Beverly Cinema. Last Sunday, three of us Critissassins were fortunate enough to have been present for the tail end of his tribute to songwriting icon Paul Willams, who was in house for the occasion. Or perhaps the occasion was in house for him. I'm not certain. But I do know there was a camera crew and a sign on the front door: "You are being filmed for a Paul Williams documentary."

First, "Bugsy Malone" was screened. Then, "Phantom Of The Paradise." I came just in time for the third feature, a secret after-midnight showing advertised in the papers - with a wink and a nod - as "Dangerous Business." The actual title of the secret movie, I guess, was not unleashed on the masses for fear that it might keep even the "BM" and "Phantom" fans from attending. The film, one of the most critically-maligned comic masterpieces in cinematic history, is the prescient, hilarious political satire/paean/homage to Hope-Crosby road pictures, "ISHTAR," starring Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman, Isabelle Adjani, Charles Grodin, and Jack Weston.

Before the lights went down for the third time that night, Mr. Wright and Mr. Williams took the stage to introduce the film. Soon after, The Divine Edgar confessed that he had not yet seen the film and was looking forward to it (I guess that's the real reason he didn't advertise it as one of his favorite films).

"But, somebody else in here has seen it (or words to that effect)... Quentin?"

Suddenly, sideways baseball hat-wearing "Ishtar" superfan Quentin Tarantino power-walked down the aisle like he'd just won the palme d'or. Grabbing the mic white hip-hop artist-style (sans the bling), the winded Quarantino professed his unwavering support for the mother of all box office bombs.

One unfunny utterance after another. Quel response? Laughter from the pews. He reminisced about how when he saw "Ishtar" for the first time, at a screening, he was seated directly behind its writer-director, the great Elaine May. "Miss May," he had the gonads to call her, as if to say - She belongs in a magazine, not in a director's chair. She should show us her beaver and shut the fuck up !

He claimed that during that screening, she laughed through the whole of "Ishtar." Why bring that up? Was there ever any doubt that she has a sense of humor?!?!

Then, Mr. T did the unthinkable. He actually sang one of the delightfully (and DELIBERATELY bad songs from the film. The song, "Hot Fudge Love," only has eleven words in it, but he couldn't even manage to get them right. Big fan. Big joke.

After the song and the audience appreciation, Quentin asked Mr. Williams why the soundtrack was not ever made available to the public. Williams said something about Warren Beatty, then suggested that a fully produced soundtrack with Warren and Dustin (as Lyle and Chuck) could surface should a talented hot director consider... doing a remake!!!! At this point, my fellow Critissassins and I booed and hissed. I'm sure Williams didn't mean to add insult to the already insulted and injured "Miss May," but really. It's like suggesting Tarantino remake that other classic dud, "Citizen Kane," which also initially succumbed to the mercy of film critics nationwide.

Finally, the lights dimmed. And did they show "Ishtar?" Yes, but not before bombarding everyone with trailers of lousy movies that cost a lot of money to make. Like critics or Goebbels, the involved parties pre-conditioned the mush-minded with squeaky-wheeled propaganda - lumping together an underrated comic gem with "Hudson Hawk," doing exactly what the critics did in 1987, ensuring a flop. Of course only five or six of us in the audience were in stitches while the rest sat idly waiting for a face that mugs or a cockney accent. In their defense, I will say this. Though silent throughout, most stuck it through to the end, which was pretty late. About 3:30.

And what did they do as the credits rolled? Surprisingly, and inexplicably, after hundreds of minutes of dumbfounded silence, they applauded. Loudly. Sometimes, under the right circumstances, the public can be every bit as mind-bogglingly infuriating as professional film critics.