Henry has no idea what style he writes, but it’s not— science fiction, horror, or espionage, genres that leave him flat.
What in the world is more entertaining than the tomfoolery of everyday human interaction?
In his mind, nothing is as stale and mechanical as repeat after repeat of— galaxy wars, post-apocalyptic chaos, ogre clowns, or secret code passed in Central Park.
While being interviewed by the Brit rag Empire Magazine, Martin Scorsese was asked what he thought of Marvel films? He answered,
I tried you know? But the films aren’t cinema. Honestly, the closet I can think of them, as well made as they are, with actors doing the best they can under the circumstances, is theme parks.
It isn’t cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being.
Some months later, another great director, Francis Ford Coppola was in Lyon, France receiving the Prix Lumiere for his work in film. When asked about his pal’s comment on Marvel films he fires back with a Tommy-gun saying,
When Martin Scorsese says that the Marvel pictures are not cinema, he’s right, because we expect to learn something from cinema, we expect to gain something, some enlightenment, some knowledge, some inspiration. I don’t know that anyone gets anything out of seeing the same movie over and over again. Martin was kind when he said it’s not cinema. He didn’t say it’s despicable, which I just say it is.
Christ almighty, that’s a thunderous shot, Francis!
Tobey Maguire starred in The Cider House Rules based on the novel by New England author, John Irving.
A book which is in the running to be a Great American Novel, an ongoing literary bout that has been up for grabs for 100s of years.
Huckleberry Finn, For Whom the Bell Tolls and To Kill a Mockingbird are a few of the front runners
British books such as Far From the Maddening Crowd and A Passage to India aren’t in the running, because Brits think Yanks speak a newly conjured up language.
The Cider House Rules’ plot tugs at the walls of your heart as it follows every day people endeavoring to deal with the hands they’re dealt in life.
Tobey plays Homer in the film, an empathetic character who cares for people in trouble with kid gloves exemplifying loving compassion, a stock role for him.
It’s hard to imagine what moved Tobey to accept the Spider Man role, playing a human with arthropod abilities is very unlike his character Homer in The Cider House Rules.
Demon money is, of course, suspect, because the Spider Man roles have done nothing to hone Tobey’s acting chops.
The Spider Man films are a numbing head trip of good power versus bad power and a mind-warping distraction.
Marvel, the producers, and the stars, gross huge sums of money from the films— proof millions of people enjoy the brand and style.
It's 1986, fall for all one knows. The tribe, Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd are staying in the Hotel Las Hamacas on Acapulco Bay.
Henry's working on a story in the hotel room. Lucia and Summer Wynd are lounging at the beach across the road, sipping pina coladas.
Henry's working on a story in the hotel room. Lucia and Summer Wynd are lounging at the beach across the road, sipping pina coladas.
The phone rings, it’s Dave Spleen editor of HEADBANGER Magazine. A benzedrine freak who articulates at the speed of light, Henry picks up the headset and Dave says,
you lucky dog! Basking in the Acapulco sun. Henry replies,
I’m typing like mad in the hotel room, writing as usual. But, Lucia and Summer Wynd are at the beach showing off their slinky bodies, distracting beachniks. Dave turned on says,
what I'd give to see that! Henry answers encouragingly,
bring your wife Goldy down for a holiday, she’ll love it, you 2 can consummate your marriage. Dave answers,
very funny Henry, but I’ve got a magazine to run. Anyway, babe, I want you to go to Puerto Vallarta and do a bit on the John Huston film The Night of the Iguana. Visit the film site and write something on your impressions. I need the bit tomorrow, fax it to me. He tells Dave,
I' want some upfront money, we can fly there today. Dave says,
I’ll send you a check. Chuckling Henry says,
let’s steer clear of the where’s my check? Your check is in the mail ruse. Wire 500 dollars to Western Union, Acapulco. Dave agrees,
OK, I’ll send my secretary to Western Union, Gotta go gotta deadline to meet!
An hour later Henry walks to the Acapulco department store, Sanborns, a short distance from the hotel.
It's 11 AM and the sun is blaring, so he puts on one of the girls straw cowboy hats.
Inside Sanborns he sits at the diner counter, ordering iced lime juice. After the cool drink, he goes to the Western Union office which is in a small walled-in area at the back of the store.
There’s a gorgeous Mexican woman dressed conservatively behind a counter encased with bulletproof glass. He smiles at her and she smiles back, then placing his passport in the pass-through tray and saying,
I’m Henry Lucowski, I’m expecting 500 dollars from Dave Spleen, is this bulletproof glass? She giggles wondering,
why do you ask señor, are you a bandito? I have the wire from Dave Spleen señor, it’s for 400 US dollars.
He thinks to himself— the mother fucker Spleen is obsessively tight-fisted, Scrooge is lavish with money compared to him. He says to the comely teller,
OK, that’s fine dear, are you single? She smiles as she places the money into the pass-through tray answering,
sometimes.
They laugh, Henry loves her sense of humor and would like to meet with her socially saying,
I’m going away for a few days but when I return let’s get together.
She smiles and he waves good by, turning around and walking out of Sanborns to the beach where the girls are, telling them,
I’m booking a 100 PM flight to Puerto Vallarta on Aero Mexico. It’s noon and Summer Wynd says,
OK, babe, we'll follow you back to the room in a few minutes.
He crosses the street and walks into the lobby of the Hotel Las Hamacas, telling the desk clerk, a gay, middle-aged Mexican man,
we're checking out of room 103 in a few minutes. The desk clerk answers, fluttering his eyelashes.
Si señor, you can pay the bill on the way out. He likes the desk clerks easy manner and says in fun,
can you call us a taxi gorgeous? The clerk winks answering,
Si señor, you can pay the bill on the way out. He likes the desk clerks easy manner and says in fun,
can you call us a taxi gorgeous? The clerk winks answering,
of course señor, anything for a hombre maravilloso!
In the room Henry sits on the bed, calling Aero Mexico and booking 3 coach tickets to Puerto Vallarta for 2500 pesos apiece.
Lucia and Summer Wynd walk into the room a few minutes later, loaded as usual. He tells them,
An airport taxi will be here in a few minutes, clean up and pack quickly. Lucia salutes, off-balance and falling because she's drunk, saying,
yes sir, comandante!
The girls shower together, saving water and pleasuring themselves in a heartbeat with the skill of 2 French whores
They dry quickly, picking up clothes randomly from a pile. Putting on tank tops, short shorts which reveal their tanned butt cheeks, straw cowboy hats, and flip flops.
They dry quickly, picking up clothes randomly from a pile. Putting on tank tops, short shorts which reveal their tanned butt cheeks, straw cowboy hats, and flip flops.
Packing is simple, they toss one another’s wrinkled clothes into their bags. Then, placing their collective toilet articles into a single plastic bag, which went into anyone’s suitcase.
The girls shared cosmetics, and they all shared toothbrushes, figuring if you could stick your tongue down someone's throat what’s the problem with using their toothbrush?
As for soap, toothpaste, and shampoo, the tribe used the complementary offerings of hotels they visited, rarely washing their hair though, preferring to rub coconut oil through it like Hindu women do.
They lived like Marxist kibbutzniks, their property was collective.
The threesome heads to the lobby, Henry pays 1000 pesos asking the clerk,
could you recommend a fun hotel in Puerta Villarta? The clerk smiles flirtatiously answering,
The taxi to Acapulco International Airport is waiting in front of the hotel, it's an early 70s Mercedes Benz station wagon, the model John Lennon drove. As the hack pulls away Lucia asks,
cuanto tiempo hasta el aeropuerto? He answers,
30 minutos, did you enjoy your stay in Acapulco señora? She says glumly in Spanish,
sadly señor, we stayed one night and at noon my husband, Enrique, came to la playa where my lover and I were enjoying ourselves saying— go back to the hotel, clean up and pack quickly.
Henry wants to tell his side of the story, it’s as though the driver is the judge and jury. He says,
don’t believe her señor, she's drowning in self-pity because I interrupted her drinking! I have an assignment in Puerto Vallarta for a New York City magazine that needs to get out ASAP!
The driver spoke little English, understanding little of what Henry said, it was just as well. Lucia looks at Henry raising one eyebrow saying,
I would rather lose15 years of life drinking than live sober. I drink to make life more interesting.
The Mercedes station wagon pulls into the Aero Mexico departure area, double parking as Mexican policía wave at the driver to move on, the driver ignores them.
The tribe pays, gets out of the cab, schlepping their carry on luggage, and Henry’s portable typewriter with them to the ticket counter.
Summer Wynd pays for the tickets to Puerto Vallarta. It’s 1245 PM, they run all the way to the departure gate.
Boarding with minutes to spare, they hustle to the last aisle where they have 3 seats together, sitting down and saddling up.
They thrived on the juice and the rush of being late, living as close to the edge as possible without falling off.
The jet is up, up and away cruising on cloud nine in nothing flat. Henry has a vial of 200 mg codeine pills, he takes 2 and passes the bottle to the girls. As he gets off on the dope he embarks on an addled rap with them saying,
the Nancy boy desk clerk at Hotel Las Hamacas, Pene, booked us a room at the Hotel Rainbow in Puerto Vallarta, I think it's an LGBT resort.
Boarding with minutes to spare, they hustle to the last aisle where they have 3 seats together, sitting down and saddling up.
They thrived on the juice and the rush of being late, living as close to the edge as possible without falling off.
The jet is up, up and away cruising on cloud nine in nothing flat. Henry has a vial of 200 mg codeine pills, he takes 2 and passes the bottle to the girls. As he gets off on the dope he embarks on an addled rap with them saying,
the Nancy boy desk clerk at Hotel Las Hamacas, Pene, booked us a room at the Hotel Rainbow in Puerto Vallarta, I think it's an LGBT resort.
I jokingly blew Pene a kiss and he construed it as gay code, go figure.
Are you 2 lesbians? You screw quit a bit. Both the girls shake their heads as if to say oh no, Summer Wynd answers succinctly,
we’re not gay, we’re sexual, we’re in a polyamorous relationship with you, Henry. And, we’re not looking for new lovers, your nanoscopic cock is enough for us. Lucia roars with laughter, saying to her,
darling, you're going to give him a complex and he'll be obsessing about dick size for days. He ignores them and rambles on,
darling, you're going to give him a complex and he'll be obsessing about dick size for days. He ignores them and rambles on,
anyway, I’m going to write an impressionistic story on the film site of the movie The Night of the Iguana.
Tomorrow we’ll take a taxi to Mismaloya, where the bulk of the film scenes were shot at Hotel Costa Verde, a roughly constructed movie set on a hill overlooking the sea.
He talks so much the girls fall asleep, loaded on codeine, then he falls asleep too.
The Aero Mexico flight lands and the passengers deplane. The tribe's snoozing away in the empty plane as the stewardess nudges them saying,
come on you guys get up, the plane will be reboarding soon!
The Aero Mexico flight lands and the passengers deplane. The tribe's snoozing away in the empty plane as the stewardess nudges them saying,
come on you guys get up, the plane will be reboarding soon!
They take their bags from the overhead compartment and walk through Puerto Vallarta International to street level where they catch a cab to the Hotel Rainbow which is downtown.
In 20 minutes they are at the ill-famed Hotel Rainbow, checking in and taking an elevator to their 8th floor oceanside room.
It's 345 PM, the girls change into bikinis, going straight to the pool.
In 20 minutes they are at the ill-famed Hotel Rainbow, checking in and taking an elevator to their 8th floor oceanside room.
It's 345 PM, the girls change into bikinis, going straight to the pool.
They sit at a table under a large umbrella, ordering Kahlua and hot coffee to liven up some.
As they sip the sweet coffee drinks they are taken aback by the ongoing scene happening in the area of the swimming pool.
It’s a circus— gay men in skimpy thong swimsuits groping one another in the pool, bull dykes looking like roly-poly Hells Angels, drag queens in pastel swimwear with fluorescent wigs on wearing oversized Southern Belle hats, heavily made up to cover their 5 o'clock shadows.
As they sip the sweet coffee drinks they are taken aback by the ongoing scene happening in the area of the swimming pool.
It’s a circus— gay men in skimpy thong swimsuits groping one another in the pool, bull dykes looking like roly-poly Hells Angels, drag queens in pastel swimwear with fluorescent wigs on wearing oversized Southern Belle hats, heavily made up to cover their 5 o'clock shadows.
Henry joins the girls at their table, sitting down, surveying the scene and saying,
what a freak show, I can't say I blame them for flaunting their gayness because they had to hide and live underground for so many years.
In the 60s gay men were sent to Riker's Island for being queer. Allen Ginsberg spent time there, or maybe he cracked up after his mother died, one or the other, I think he wrote Howl in a padded cell.
Anyway, kiddy cats, we don’t belong here, let's flee the carnival and go to Mismaloya.
In the 60s gay men were sent to Riker's Island for being queer. Allen Ginsberg spent time there, or maybe he cracked up after his mother died, one or the other, I think he wrote Howl in a padded cell.
Anyway, kiddy cats, we don’t belong here, let's flee the carnival and go to Mismaloya.
Lucia and Summer Wynd agree. The tribe goes back to their room, grab their still packed bags, and take the elevator to the lobby.
Lucia tosses the room key on the front desk as the gang walks briskly out of the Hotel Rainbow and she says smiling,
hasta la vista, baby!
They catch a taxi to Mismaloya, which is 40 kilometers south of Puerto Vallarta, Lucia tells the driver in Spanish,
señor, take us to a hotel in Mismaloya, close to the Hotel Costa Verde where the gringo film La Iguana was shot, he answers,
si señora, may I suggest the Hotel Casa Iguana, the inn has quaint old-world charm and is on the sea. Many of the cast and crew of The Night of the Iguana stayed there in the 60s.
The film set is at the run-down Hotel Casta Verde, unfortunately, it's closed to the public and fenced off.
Consequently, the Hotel Casa Iguana has become a mecca for international film buffs. Lucia is impressed by the hack’s eloquence saying,
The film set is at the run-down Hotel Casta Verde, unfortunately, it's closed to the public and fenced off.
Consequently, the Hotel Casa Iguana has become a mecca for international film buffs. Lucia is impressed by the hack’s eloquence saying,
señor, I'm impressed, you're very well educated! The driver smiles answering,
si señora, I have a MA in Modern Latin American Literature.
Henry wonders what the fuck the hack is doing driving a cab with a MA in literature? Maybe, he's living on the tawdry side storing up experience to write the next Great Latin American Novel.
Henry wonders what the fuck the hack is doing driving a cab with a MA in literature? Maybe, he's living on the tawdry side storing up experience to write the next Great Latin American Novel.
The taxi pulls into the Hotel Casa Iguana as the sunsets. Henry pays the driver and the tribe goes to the front desk where Summer Wynd books a room facing the Gulf of California on the top floor.
Their room, 703, has a heavenly view of the gulf, Henry calls room service ordering a bottle of Jack Daniels, fresh Parrotfish, tuna, shrimp, beans, and tortillas.
The threesome eats and drinks on the terrace, talking about everything in the world as they breathe the night sea air which becomes more piquant with every sip of whiskey.
At midnight the tribe is nude and jumbled up in bed, hypnotized by the sound of the breaking waves coming through the open terrace door.
It was a fortuitous choice to take a taxi to the Hotel Casa Iguana, slipping away from the circus at the Hotel Rainbow.
They feel spanking good when they wake the following morning, going downstairs for breakfast on the cantina patio overlooking the sea, sipping hot coffee with milk, eating churros and fresh fruit, Henry says,
I’m going to walk up the beach to look around at what’s left of the Hotel Casa Verde where The Night of the Iguana was filmed, would you like to go? The girls shake their heads and Lucia says,
the film you talk about, Le Iguana, signifies something to you and I know you have work to do. Go ahead darling, Summer Wynd and I are going to the beach and show off our bootylicious bodies to the world and get loaded. Enjoy yourself, baby, we love you.
Henry scores a 1/4 ounce of Michoacán marijuana from the bellman, a potent and aromatic strain. Then going to the gift shop in the lobby, buying rolling papers, incense, candles, a lighter, and a colorful native straw bag.
He places the mystic ware in the straw bag, leaving the hotel, walking down steps made of railway ties to the beach.
Wearing shorts, flip flops, and a straw cowboy hat with the native bag draped on one shoulder, he walks 400 meters to the Hotel Casa Verde.
On the beach below the film set, he looks up, seeing it's on a hill covered with jungle bush. There’s a sign in front of the hotel which reads,
PROHIBIDO EL PASO
He heads up a path on the bushy hill that has been worn down by curious tourists and fans, reaching the 60s film set which is surrounded by a wire fence.
After climbing over the fence, he walks about the Hotel Casa Verde which is coming apart at the seams, feeling elated as though he was inside the film that's so close to his heart as it was playing in a cinema.
A Mexican security guard approaches him saying in English,
Mister, you’re going to have to leave!
Henry pulls 2000 pesos from his straw bag, 85 dollars, showing it to the security guard and saying,
I want to go to the spot where the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon had his nervous breakdown and was wrapped in a hammock, light incense, and summon the spirits.
The guard takes the money and puts it in his shirt pocket saying,
OK, señor, please keep quiet, you can stay for an hour. The place where the Padre broke down is at the north end of the film set.
Henry walks to the area, there are dried flowers, burnt candles, notes, empty tequila bottles, and a statuette of the Virgin Mary inside a circle of bricks, it's a shrine.
Surely, the security guard makes a handsome living granting seekers entrance to the shrine
He sits cross-legged in front of the inner sanctum, lighting candles, jasmine incense, placing them around the Virgin Mary in crevices, then rolling a joint.
Surely, the security guard makes a handsome living granting seekers entrance to the shrine
He sits cross-legged in front of the inner sanctum, lighting candles, jasmine incense, placing them around the Virgin Mary in crevices, then rolling a joint.
As he smokes the fine Michoacán dope, a young iguana walks towards him and stops in place, staring for a few seconds, then turning around and scampering away.
His mind travels to the last act of The Night of the Iguana where the Reverend T. Laurence Shannon sets an iguana tied in ragged hemp rope free.
Freeing the iguana symbolizes the exorcising of Shannon’s demons that had courted him throughout his life.
As Henry climbs over the fence surrounding the Hotel Casa Verde, walking down the path to the beach, he feels a rush of electrifying energy surging through his body. It's the Michoacán pot, the sensation has nothing to do with gods, demons, catharsis, or the film, The Night of the Iguana.
