LIFESTYLE COLUMN: THE OLD BROAD IN TIM BURTON'S WONDERLAND

Playing the "Age Card" to Meet 50 New People at the LACMA Exhibit Opening Party

By: Clare Elfman

May 29, 2011

(May 28, 2011 in Los Angeles, California) I had attended the Tim Burton museum opening party in New York. I knew it would be a huge crush of people standing in little groups, eating, drinking fourth glasses of wine, getting a slight bit snizzled, and wondering who else in this crowd they could talk to. Now I’m tee-total -- not that I wouldn’t love to get a bit snizzled with everyone else, but I’m allergic to the stuff. Not allergic to food, however, but how many appetizers can you eat? So looking at the little clusters of folk and wanting to make a night of it, my New York plan had been this:

I was undoubtedly the oldest woman there, and I used what my kids call the “old age card.” I decided to meet 50 new people, and I edged through the crowd, and when I saw an interesting little bunch, I simply barged in. I said, “Hi, I am Clare Elfman. I intend to meet 50 new people. Who are you?" And I had a blast.

This was my plan at LACMA’s opening of Tim Burton’s fantastic exhibit. Rude? Not if you’re an old gal teetering on the edge of senility. I might get Alzheimer's at any moment, so I’m entitled to be idiosyncratic and bustle around like the Mad Hatter intruding into private lives. And to tell you the truth, I had an absolutely wild evening.

This time, the entrance to the event took us through a huge Tim Burton cartoony mouth. I recall great teeth, and before entering the party, you walked the corridors of the exhibit seeing Tim Burton’s wild collection of sketches and drawings of bizarre creatures and clay head models for the animation, and large figures from Nightmare Before Christmas and other artifacts from Tim’s films. Some of the guests around me wore Mad Hatter’s hats and other wild headpieces and occasional costumes in the spirit of the occasion.

I entered on the arm of Danny Elfman, who has done most of Tim’s music, and Mali Elfman -- whose first film, Do Not Disturb, has just hit the marketplace.

We greeted Tim, his wild-haired usual self. He was exhausted. He had come in at 6:00 that morning, had been signing books, and now getting ready for the hoards of fans who were about to descend into Wonderland.  A quick hug, and I entered the throng which was just beginning to gather.

There was a bar at one end of the open courtyard, and at various stations were nibbles, oh so delicious. Tiny tacos filled with great stuff, delicious little toasties, very upscale, and I had my first visit to the tables to gather strength for the next two hours. I was just looking around to size up my crowd when I saw…oh my heart…I saw someone. Oh! Oh! It was…what’s his name?  Now I don’t, I absolutely don’t fancy going up to celebrities with my heart on my sleeve -- I think it’s rude. But oh, oh here was that guy I loved so much in A Room With a View! Remember the film? Tim Burton’s significant other, Helena Bonham-Carter, starred in this marvelous 1985 British period film. Plot: She’s engaged to a pretentious fop brilliantly played by Daniel Day-Lewis, and into her life comes this eccentric handsome young man travelling in Italy with his father. He meets her on the first night at the pension, and falls in love with her. His philosophy is to let love permeate his life and to express it, and in the middle of a field of wild flowers, he grabs her and kisses her. And here was that actor…that...what’s his name?

And I did something rude and unforgivable. Awful! I went up to him, I said that I loved his work and couldn’t remember his name! What a back-handed compliment that is! Idiot.  He was, of course, Julian Sands, and if you don’t know that film and don’t know who he is, rent the DVD or Netflix it. It’s a classic and an unforgettable work, especially the scene where she has been avoiding his wildly free declarations in a time of controlled and proper behavior, and he…okay, no spoilers.  Trust me. Watch it.   

So I had already made an ass of myself. I rushed to the eats table and took the edge off with more little tacos and fishy stuff on crisp toast…and I turned and saw Martin Landau. White-haired, on a cane, a quite handsome eighty-ish. But what a durable actor!  Did you see the classic North by Northwest with Cary Grant? He was the young co-villain. And then again, in that absolutely must-see, one of Woody Allen’s best, Crimes and Misdemeanors. If you haven’t seen that one, put it on your list. And here he was, still working, as he explained, in Tim Burton’s new film, Frankenweenie.

Back to the crowd, getting thicker. Could barely walk through little groups. But I turned and spied another familiar face from one of my great favorites films, Beetlejuice. Him I had to meet! Remember him as the owner of that bizarre house about to be accosted by creatures? In fact, there is one scene where a huge serpent with the face of Michael Keaton tosses him down the stairs. I quickly asked a guest to remind me of his name.  Jeffrey Jones. He also played the principal in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off. And he had a juicy little part in Deadwood, and if you missed that HBO series, it’s another big miss and you should absolutely try a season of that one.   Jeffrey was a bit heavier than I remembered, but still in great form, and with him someone I didn’t know.

She said her name was Cherry Vanilla -- an assumed name, I gathered. I did research when I got home. Her name is Dorritie, had been an actress in Andy Worhol’s Pork, and she had been a publicist for David Bowie. She has a new book out, called Lick Me. I do not think that Lick Me is intended for my demographic, but I have already asked for a review copy.

From there, I barged into a group of filmmakers: one woman, Nigerian, tall handsome, imposing. Her first name was Ngozi, and unfortunately I didn’t record her last name. Her films were well-known in Nigeria and South Africa, and when I got home, I rushed to my IMDb, but Ngozi is a popular first name, and with no last name, I cannot find her. But it was a lovely chat, and from there, back to the food for an energy boost.

I did meet two old friends: Dale Launer, who wrote and produced My Cousin Vinny, which you have undoubtedly seen; and if you are a reader and have, as a lover of Tim Burton’s unconventional work, fallen in love with the unconventional House of Leaves, here indeed was the author, Mark Danielewski, refusing to talk about his new work which will undoubtedly be a piece of great fantasy and delight. And I had a lovely chat with Michael Jackson -- the other Michael Jackson -- an animation guy, and he confessed that he does neither sing nor dance. He draws cartoons.

And on to young illustrators and cartoonists, Disney people, and just plain folk who support LACMA. After perhaps ten more little impromptu discussions, I was beginning to tire. I missed the little cupcakes entirely -- they had been consumed, and the guests, lured by music, were moving out of the courtyard to crowd around a bandstand, screaming and shouting to the music of a band called Jane’s Addiction.

Now let me confess. I was a teen when Frank Sinatra was the rage. When I worked for the Shnitzer-Fritschi Agency on Hollywood Boulevard, I went to one of his concerts. This was at a time when women not only got hysterical but fainted hearing him sing.  I never fainted, but let me tell you, I was so impressed that he’s still my favorite singer. And being of the demographic of Martin Landau, who is, in fact, a few years younger than I--I favor acoustic and stuff like Ella Fitzgerald and the folk classics of Pete Seeger. I ambled over to Jane’s Addiction, and where you might have rushed to the bandstand to get your ears numbed, I would have paid a goodly sum to be excused from even a small passing listen-in.

And there to cheer a tired old lady was the black limo waiting to take me to back to my quiet canyon home. I had almost talked myself out, but not quite. The driver was Franklin, who was full of stories -- wonderful stories of his own life, including one of my demographic. His mother, my age -- a wonderful, bright woman -- suffered now from senility and dementia.  And as he dropped me off and I had my cup of tea and reflected on the evening, I wondered how long it would be before I left my own “normal life” and drifted into a world of dementia. Of course, my “normal life” had been filled with Tim Burton’s films and the wild music of a great band called Oingo Boingo, and the antics of my own dear family: the just-excised bloody kidney-thieving scene of my granddaughter’s film,  Do Not Disturb; the dead monkey’s paw which I remember receiving from my son traveling in Africa, since Monkey’s Paw was a favorite story I told to my English classes during my teaching days; the shrunken head and the bull whip which my composer son used to bring to his recording sessions -- the head was named Uncle Billy; the early film by Richard Elfman, Forbidden Zone, in which he had offered me my first film role if I were willing to stand naked wearing a sheer negligee and be chained to a post, and I had foolishly refused, losing my only shot at becoming a movie star. That was my ordinary life. So if I slipped into dementia, would I actually know the difference?

I had, that evening, the pleasure of spending time in the wild world of Tim Burton’s art and the fun world of Tim Burton films which have been showing at LACMA -- work that transports us into the joyful world of the fantastical, the delightful, mad world of dreams. And meeting the interesting folk who show up at museum cocktail parties.

If you haven’t yet seen the exhibit at LACMA, don’t miss it. And if you notice a mad old lady wandering amidst the white rabbits, crying, “Off with their heads!” to the passing crowd, that will be the Old Broad, back having an ordinary day enjoying the magical, fantastical art of Tim Burton.

LACMA's 'The Fantastical Worlds of Tim Burton' exhibit will run until Halloween night, October 31, 2011