Screen If You Love New York

You have a choice tomorrow, nostalgics, between reminiscing about the New York of big-budget Hollywood and that of shoestring-budget indie filmmakers.
    We urge you to go your own way.
    Tomorrow at 8 p.m., A&E will air a two-hour special called “New York at the Movies.” It’s all about how our big, bold city and its big, bold denizens have been portrayed on the silver screen.
    Problem is, it features chestnuts older than a Christmas-time vendor’s come spring. “Manhattan,” “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” “West Side Story” (wasn’t that filmed on L.A. sound stages?)—you get the idea.
    Not only are these movies overly familiar to moviegoers, they also display a New York polished into mainstream acceptability.
    The grit-verité “Midnight Cowboy,” which will be mentioned in the special, is a rare exception.
    That’s why we say forget about A&E’s “New York” and arrange your own homage to the city—one that revels in a Manhattan pre-gentrification, pre-Starbucks, and, blissfully, pre-terrorists.
    All you need is a VCR and TV, and at least one of these marvelously scrappy indie films:

• “Girlfriends,” 1978: A pre-“thirtysomething” Melanie Mayron struggles to make it as a photographer and adjust to living alone after her best friend moves out of the huge Upper West Side apartment they shared. See it for the apartment, which no starving artist could afford today.

• “Smithereens,” 1982, and “Desperately Seeking Susan,” 1985: A Susan Seidelman double feature. In the former, Wren (Susan Berman) scours the Lower East Side looking for love among the punk-rock ruins. In the latter, Rosanna Arquette looks for her career, which Madonna has just made irrelevant with her scene-stealing performance.

• “The Goodbye Girl,” 1977: OK, so a Neil Simon movie is not exactly indie. But this fluid, funny film does feature a New York of irascible landlords, muggers and rooftop dancing. Not to mention Richard Dreyfuss in one of his few tolerable performances.

• “84 Charing Cross Road,” 1986: Anne Bancroft could have posed for the Statue of Liberty, she’s so New York. Here, she displays the best of our urban breed as a tough, generous and brainy writer who corresponds with London rare-books dealer Anthony Hopkins.

• “Liquid Sky,” 1982: Pansexuality. Drugs. Aliens. You know, downtown as it used to be.

(Published in 2002) 

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Homemade Jams

The city’s most unusual jazz venue is one big house party

 
As Madonna once said, music makes the people come together. Each weekend in Washington Heights, that music is jazz, and it’s making the people come together in Marjorie Eliot’s apartment.

For 10 years, the fiftysomething Eliot has used her modest home as a concert hall, showcasing jazz vocalists and musicians in free shows every Sunday at 4 p.m.

People — all races and ages — crowd into the mismatched chairs arranged in her living room and adjacent hallway and kitchen. (Eliot can comfortably accommodate as many as 60 but has had to squeeze in more guests than that.)

You’ve got your women of a certain age, still in their church finery; hipsters with messy hair and scuffed shoes; European tourists; moms and dads with small children; ad old guys from the neighborhood.

In return for their audience’s loyalty and curiosity, Eliot and her handpicked musicians and vocalists serve up several hours’ worth of jazz standards — with a short break someone in the middle for juice and cookies.

On a recent Sunday, Eliot — whose delicately muscled frame, upswept hair and empire-waist dress made her look like a Degas ballerina sculpture — started things out with a fe

w Negro spirituals, playing the piano while her son Rudel Drears sang.

Vocalist Mena Weston was next up, performing gently powerful interpretations of songs like “You Make Me Feel So Young.”

And then the afternoon turned into a swinging jazz jam, courtesy of bass player Alex Layne, saxophonist Cecil Scott and Drears, who played the piano with a breezy energy that seemed to lift the instrument off the living-room floor.

“I see it as a concert hall,” Eliot says of her apartment. “I don’t think I’m delusional about that because the audiences are fantastic. They look forward to it.”

She’s not exaggerating. Not only do people look forward to Eliot’s shows, some of them also have made them part of their weekly routine.

Yonkers resident Mercedes Hill, 72, drives in to the city after church each Sunday. At first, she came out of curiosity.

“I’m used to going to concerts in a big auditorium, a church or down in the parish hall,” says Hill. “I’d never been in n apartment.”

Her impression of the homemade concert?

“I’ve been coming every Sunday. That speaks [for itself],” she says.

Eliot started what she calls Parlor Entertainment 10 years ago as a tribute to her son Phil Drears, who died in 1992. She decided the shows should be free, so anyone and everyone could attend. She also stages an annual jazz concert in August at the nearby Morris-Jumel Mansion.

Last summer, Eliot — who makes her living performing at nursing homes and the like through the not-for-profit Hospital Audiences Inc. — also began a free Saturday-afternoon workshop for budding singers.

The music may bleed through to the adjoining apartments, but “I’ve not had complaints to my face,” says the Philadelphia-born Eliot, who in 2000 was indicted into the People’s Hall of Fame, which honors grassroots contributions to the city’s cultural life.

And while she plans to continue Parlor Entertainment’s shows “forever,” she does ream of someday having a traditional theater space. She ants to do children's theater, adult theater, more music.

But until then, fans of Parlor Entertainment will have to settle for a seat in the living room.

Not that anyone really minds.

Referring to the good will that imbues the room at these shows, frequent Parlor-goer Sheila Massey, 57, quotes one of Eliot’s musicians:

“I remember one of them said to me, ‘It’s all about love. Loving music. Loving humanity.’”

(From 2002)

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Forget Turkey!

You’re welcome to an un-Thanksgiving

A couple of Thanksgivings ago, a friend and I decided to spend the holiday doing completely un-Thanksgiving-like things. Instead of following the usual routine, we made plans based on what we thought would be fun. On a whim, we phoned the New York Aquarium and were thrilled to learn it would be open. So, like children again except for the fact that we smoke and drink, we happily paid a visit to the sleek dolphins and the lumbering walruses.
    The aquarium is out at Coney Island, and we decided we’d take a walk on the beach while we were there. (I brought along two of those tiny, single-serving bottles of vodka so we could have a little holiday toast on the shore.) When we got back to Manhattan, we went to Sixth Street in the East Village and popped into the most colorful Indian restaurant we could find. The place we chose was almost empty, which meant a comfortably paced meal and attentive service.
    We decided to end the day at a bar, as all good days end. At a pub on Second Avenue, we chatted with the friendly bartender while we drank and played our favorite songs on the jukebox. It was after 1 a.m. when I got back to the rent-stabilized thimble I called home back then.
    The next day, we had no regrets about our un-Thanksgiving. My friend and I had had an adventure of our own making. What’s to lament?
    This year, everyone’s rethinking everything they once took for granted, holidays included. If you’re looking for a new way to spend Thanksgiving, consider these options:

    Ice skating: The Rink at Rockefeller Center ([212] 332-7654) and Wollman Rink at Prospect Park are open all day on Thanksgiving. Gather some friends together, strap on some skates, and marvel at how weak your ankles are.

    Bowling: At alleys like Bowlmor Lanes ([212] 255-8188) you can get food and drinks and see what hardwood floors look like when they’ve actually been polished.

    New York Aquarium: The aquarium, bless its heart, is open every day. Call (718) 265-3450 for directions and hours.

    Laser tag: Work out your aggression without working out at Lazer Park in Times Square ([212] 398-3060). Besides playing newfangled tag, you can pilot a 30-foot-tall tank thing in a virtual-reality game set on the planet Solaris VII.

    Arcades: While you’re in the Square, check out Broadway City Arcade, whose 20,000 square feet contain replicas of famous New York neighborhoods and old-fashioned treats like egg creams.
   
    Pool: Slate in Chelsea ([212] 989-0096), Soho Billiards ([212] 925-3753), And Amsterdam Billiard Club on the Upper West ([212] 496-8180), and East ([212] 570-4545) sides are among the pool halls open this Thanksgiving.

    Movie marathon: For those who like to live vicariously, there’s always the option of renting Thanksgiving-related movies. Comedic choices include “Home for the Holidays” and “Hannah and Her Sisters.” Or, if you’re feeling dramatic, there are “The Myth of Fingerprints” and “What’s Cooking?”

    Dive bars: Finally, if you really miss the dysfunction of being with family, head for your nearest dive bar. Depending on your sensibility, the feeling-mighty-low atmosphere will either reassure you that your life is not so bad or confirm that, yes, it is, but you nonetheless fit in somewhere in this crazy world.
 

(Published November 17, 2001)