this weekend, while having a much needed post-holiday reconnection with one of my closest friends in SF, i was enriched by the knowledge that Ann-Margret (swedish-american of the year 2001!)is currently touring our glorious nation with The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. no national tour is complete without a stop in the City and while she is in town, she will be gracing the Castro Theatre for a q&a session following a screening of VIVA LAS VEGAS.

Now, coincidentally, i had been slaving over a hot stove, whipping up a veggie holiday smorgasbord (the boyfriend don't eat no meat) to celebrate the 67th birthday of the King (of Kings), Mr. Elvis Presley. Jan 8th marks the official end of the holiday season, a day unblemished by familial obligation, drunken confessions, firearms or other ritual celebratory implements. This is a day reserved for all to begin, continue or complete their own transcendent journey from young, thin and vibrant to old, bloated, and drug-dependent (probably not difficult to ascertain which Elvis got my postal approval).

Now, admittedly, i'm not an avid elvis fan. in fact, until this weekend i had never seen an elvis movie, i've never owned an elvis album (vinyl, cassette or cd). mostly, i'm just fascinated by the fact that so many people the world over are obsessed with HIM (capitals always signify fervor, religious or otherwise). the closest i've ever been to elvis fandom is the 24hour Church of Elvis in Portland, Oregon, which much like the holy roman empire is neither 24hour, a church or slavishly devoted to elvis, but is a definite "not-to-miss" attraction if you are ever visiting the Emerald City. in fact, it is reason enough for a trip...plus Powells Books, of course. if you like your books used and stacked to the ceiling like Price Club or CostCo, this place is nirvana. but, i digress (oh, i must stop using that phrase, especially since almost everything i ever write...or say, for that matter, is a digression from something or other)

But back to the coinky-dink. as this conversation re: VIVA LAS VEGAS was unfolding, said classic was on its way to my own abode on VHS as part of my aforementioned holiday hoo-hah. And yes, we watched it. In fact, i consumed it. do you remember vegas before it was imploded? i do, but if you don't, here's your episode of "The 20th Century" and there ain't no Mike Wallace to muck it up. Enormous neon signs in flowing cursive script, glitz (you know, pizazz), glamour, glitter, lavish shows chock full of offensive racial stereotyping and oh yes...grand prix racing, which sets the scene for this visual feast with elvis as a race-car driver and ann-margret as the swimming pool manager/go-go dancer of his fever dreams.

now, in most musicals, the songs (always precipated by questions such as "what DO the simple folk do?") move the drama along, but not elvis movies. songs are a showcase for elvis, not the storyline, which boils down to elvis meets girl, girl hates elvis, elvis sings to girl, girl falls for elvis, something or someone or somewhere gets in the way, blah blah blah, happy ending. honestly, if ann-margret had just danced for two hours, i've had been satisfied. this flick involves the most fantasticly abandoned dance sequences since the empathicalist cafe in Funny Face.

but, back to the Whorehouse. so, local television ads involve theater-goer reaction, "man on the street", preposterous painfully-scripted "spontaneous" feedback. of course, i haven't seen them myself, just been fed info on them, but i'm sure we are all familiar with this "i loved it, it was better than cats, i'll see it again and again" style marketing. in fact, there were some similiar ads here for the blue man group. i think it involved wishing they had brought grandma. i didn't quite grasp their meaning. i guess you had to be there.

but after all this, tacked on like the end of that simpsons episode where homer goes on tabloid tv after being accused of sexually harassing the babysitter (sweet can..sweet, sweet can)and the show's diabolical editing techniques are unmasked and they are forced to apologize for their scams and half-truths (you know, sooooo fast, that you miss it, almost as if it was the wind)..."also starring Gary Sandy".

Gary Sandy? Travis from WKRP? BABY, if you ever WONDERED...

and then through the power of astral projection (if shannen doherty could do it on charmed, why not me? i know, her character died and all, so bad example, but sue me), i'm there at the Castro, ready with my question. a sea of expectant, impatient hands bobbing in unison. "me! ME!" and then, it happens, Connie Champagne picks me, yes...me, to ask ANN-MARGRET a question. in my best precious theatre arts student, "inside the actor's studio" audience member, smug, self-satisfied voice, i begin. "Not since George Burns in Oh God! has the Heavenly One been portrayed so convincingly on screen. How DID you prepare for this awesome challenge, while guest-starring on the WB's now-defunct Popular, in an episode whimsically-titled "Are You There God? It's Me...Ann-Margret", no less?"

well, enjoy the King's b-day and be grateful you don't share yours with JLo.