Reflections on ... Dead Beat (1994)

/ Bruce Ramsay in Dead Beat (1994). Tagline: "A tale of deep love ... and shallow graves" /

“Famed not so much for his mid-sixties killings of three teenage girls as for his mind-boggling fashion statements, he was sentenced to death, one suspects, for his atrocious taste. “Smitty”, as he was called, pompadoured his dyed jet-black hair and wore a thick coat of pancake over his dirty unshaven handsome face. His Casanova lips were covered in white lipstick, and he designed a quarter-size beauty mark made of putty that resembled a hideous cartoon witch’s mole. His ultimate accessory was the large filthy bandage he wore on his nose for no apparent reason. Like all models, he wished he were taller, so he stuffed his boots with a three-inch layer of tin cans and rags …” 

That’s John Waters describing Charles Schmid Jr (aka the “Pied Piper of Tucson”) in his 1983 volume of essays Crackpot. Schmid’s story is loosely adapted for the screen in deadpan black comedy Dead Beat (1994) by first-time director Adam Dubov. “Smitty” is reimagined as Elvis-worshiping small-town Lothario Kit (Bruce Ramsay) (pictured. As you can see, they dispensed with the nose bandage!). For cult cinema aficionados, Dead Beat overlaps with the cinema of Waters and David Lynch in terms of style, content and casting. Its pastel-hued kitschy retro art direction evokes Waters’ Hairspray (1988), complete with neon signs, cars with fins and bouffant hairstyles. (And Deborah Harry appears in both films). Surf rock instrumentals by Link Wray and Dick Dale rumble on the soundtrack. (So do some rockabilly tunes by James Intveld – who provided the singing voice of Johnny Depp in Waters’ Cry-baby (1990)). Balthazar Getty and Natasha Gregson Wagner would go on to feature in Lynch’s Lost Highway (1997). And of course, the presence of Gregson Wagner recalls her mother Natalie Wood, who starred in the Rolls Royce of juvenile delinquent movies, Rebel without a Cause (1955).  

/ Above: the real Charles Schmid Jr /

Ramsay attacks the role of Kit with wolfish lip-smacking elan. (Watching him makes me wish Waters had cast HIM in Cry-baby instead of Depp). But my favourite performance is by a virtually silent Sara Gilbert (Darlene from Roseanne). Also noteworthy: Meredith Salenger, who I remember with affection from schlocky 1988 horror movie The Kiss. And cult director Alex Cox (of Repo Man (1984) and Sid and Nancy fame (1986)) also makes a memorable cameo appearance. 

Not all of Dead Beat works by any means, but it’s stylish (Dubov does wonders with a shoestring budget), provocative and worthy of investigation. You can find it on YouTube. 

Las Vegas Grind! My Scene Report for Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekend Thursday 18 April – Sunday 21 April 2024

 

This April I went to the annual Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekend festival at The Orleans Hotel and Casino for the first time since 2019. (This gap was mainly down to factors like coronavirus and being made redundant / starting new jobs over the years. I’ve been regularly attending on and off since something like 2003). I was reuniting with and splitting a room again with my old friend Kevin from California (the artist formerly known as Kevin from New Orleans), plus some newbies / VLV virgins: my friends Louise (henceforth referred to by my nickname for her “Weezie”) and London-based German couple Knut and Anne-Kathrin (the In-Kraut!). Anyway, here is my unexpurgated account – disgustingly frank and revoltingly candid! 

I arrived evening of Wednesday 17 April and caught up with Kevin over the first of many (many) beers at The Alligator bar of The Orleans. 

Thursday (day one): 

/ Kevin and I at The Golden Tiki /

Kevin and I went to The Golden Tiki that afternoon for Mai Tais. (Well, Kevin had his customary Three Dots and a Dash). Gratifyingly, The Golden Tiki was heaving (all the tables were already reserved, so we drank at the bar). Great to see that this amazing venue is clearly thriving. 

/ Above: decor at The Golden Tiki / 

/ Reunion with Rich at Sweet Pea's Hooch'n'Smooch Thursday afternoon. Photos by Sheilah  /

Then: the Viva Las Vegas LGBTQIA+ meet up between 6 pm – 7:30 pm featuring drag queen DJ Lady Laverne all the way from Brighton! This was the queerest most out-and-proud VLV to date. The event has always featured its share of old-school butch / femme lesbian couples (my favourite kind!), but I’d never seen more trans and non-binary folk before. (Interestingly, I’ve also never seen more therapy dogs before). The LGBTQIA+ mixer was a triumph, and the hetero attendees were mostly totally blasé about it. In the words of Divine as Edna Turnblad in Hairspray: “The times, they’re a-changin’. And the answer is blowin’ in the wind.” 

/ Patrick, Sweetpea and Andre at the LGBTQIA mixer /

Both Anne-Kathrin and Knut, and Weezie arrived and found us at the mixer. The party had well and truly started!   

/ Knut, Anne-Kathrin and Weezie. By the way, this trio nor Kevin had ever met before, so it was so great watching them all instantly become friends! /

Musical highlight: The Spuny Boys – rockabilly heartthrobs from France. 

Friday (day two): 

Friday morning a group of jaded international thrill-seekers went in search of some vintage smut and sin-sational adult situations. I mean, of course, Anne-Kathrin, Knut, Kevin and me! But don't worry - it was educational! We visited the Burlesque Hall of Fame Museum for a guided tour. My only disappointment: my priority was to genuflect before a sacred relic (their permanent collection contains a pink velvet heart-shaped settee salvaged from Jayne Mansfield’s Pink Palace!). BUT they regularly rotate the items exhibited and Jayne’s settee wasn’t on display when we visited! (Also, the guide said visitors kept wanting to sit on it). 

/ Above: treasures from the Burlesque Hall of Fame including Tempest Storm's glittery g-string (yes, you can see my gormless reflection) and Dita Von Teese's champagne glass prop from 2000 (surprisingly tiny!) /

/ What I'd hoped to see but wasn't on display ... Jayne Mansfield's heart-shaped velvet settee from the Pink Palace / 

Afterward, Weezie joined us at Frankie’s Tiki Room, one of my favourite bars in the entire world. Let’s face it, for the most part the United Kingdom just doesn’t “get” Tiki culture – it’s an entirely American phenomenon – so you must soak up and luxuriate in the authentic deal when you get the opportunity. A real plus: Frankie’s creaky barely functioning but excellent jukebox is stuffed with exotica, surf instrumental and punk selections. When I die, scatter my ashes at Frankie’s Tiki Room! 

/ Bad Girls Go to Hell! Anne-Kathrin and Weezie at Frankie's /

/ Bathroom selfie at Frankie's /

/ Above: Weezie and I giving major “We’ve been watching you across the bar and would like to buy you a drink” /

/ Kevin, me and Knut /

/ Leaving Frankie's, tipsy and blinking in the sunlight / 

Back at The Orleans, Kevin, Weezie and I hung out briefly at the pool. (The Bloody Marys at the pool bar are a must and have miraculous reviving properties). 

/ Poolside with Weezie and Kevin (and their perfectly coordinated Tiki ensembles) /

THEN: I had the bright idea of revisiting Big Elvis at Harrah’s. I explained to Weezie, Knut and Anne-Kathrin that seeing Big Elvis perform was an essential authentic Vegas ritual and rite of passage and that he had to be experienced at least once. I have many deliriously happy memories of Big Elvis over the years but wow, I was horrified by the price of drinks at Harrah’s these days ($12 for domestic beers. Knut’s bill came to $65). A major rip-off. And while Big Elvis himself was in soaring voice, he seemed totally “checked out” and delivered an abbreviated set. Previously I would advise anyone that seeing Big Elvis is de rigueur when visiting Vegas. Now – and it pains me to say this – I’d say approach with caution. 

/ Below: Elvis Presley and Ann-Margret - reunited! Only kidding: Weezie and Big Elvis having a moment /

Musical highlights: Crazy Joe. The Viva Rhythm and Blues Show: the whole showcase made me swoon, but everyone was completely blown away by flamboyant flaming creature Les Greene. Pouting, wailing and gyrating in a pink zoot suit with two-toned hair and a septum piercing, Greene effortlessly evoked the essence of young Little Richard in his prime (he tore through two numbers: “Baby Face” and Richard’s “Tutti Fruiti”). A star was born and regardless of gender or sexual preference, everyone had an instant crush on him! Then: Omar Romero. I regret not seeing James Intveld at midnight. 

Saturday (day three): 

Weezie joined me at the Copper Whisk Café at The Orleans (she was staying at the nearby Gold Coast) and washed down her steak and eggs with a potent Bloody Mary. (Which she raved about). 

Then: the car show. Like all self-respecting rockabilly kittens, Weezie and Anne-Kathrin shielded themselves from the blazing sun with parasols. Didn’t spot any stars. Cassandra Peterson (aka Elvira Mistress of the Dark) was a frequent presence at the car show in previous years signing autographs and selling merchandise (catching a glimpse of her is always a religious experience!). And of course, the late, great flame-haired burlesque queen Tempest Storm. But: I learned later that both modern striptease showgirl deluxe Dita von Teese AND effervescent Drag Race contestant and YouTuber Jaymes Mansfield attended the car show, just not while we were there, damn it! Or we somehow missed them! 

/ My role at the car show was to capture Weezie looking sultry next to vintage cars /

 / The owner of this 1955 Ford Crown Victoria Skyliner (in Tropical Rose) was a total mensch and happy to let people actually climb behind the wheel for photos. (Trust me, this is unheard of!). Needless to say, we took advantage /

More time at the pool. The “official” pool party is considered the Sunday, but we skipped the crowds and long queues and treated Saturday as the pool party – and it was sun-kissed bliss! A striking lesbian couple won the “Couples Swimsuit Contest” (see below and check out the brunette's killer batwing-shaped Vampira sunglasses) and no one batted an eye (like I said, the queerest VLV yet). Surf band The Hula Girls provided the soundtrack. 

/ Note: I've had that striped nautical t-shirt for years and this trip, applying sunscreen to my neck stained it with yellow streaks. Did anyone else not know that sunscreen stained clothes? /

Musical highlight: The Hexxers. Both Weezie and I were flagging and had to have a nap. Afterward, we were both groggy and irritable – until rampaging savage voodoo-tinged Californian garage punk band The Hexxers blew away the cobwebs. The Hexxers were like a shot of adrenaline. They are awesome! Followed by Deke’s Guitar Geek Show. 

Sunday (day four): 

Breakfast at the no-frills old-school Ellis Island restaurant, followed by drinks at Champagne’s Café. I’ve always been curious about this dive bar after reading about it in my 2003 Time Out travel guide and – after all these years – finally managed to visit it. And Champagne’s was worth the wait! It dates to the 1960s and has been virtually untouched since (thank God!). It boasts dim lights, a black ceiling, brown tufted Naugahyde booths, red flock wallpaper straight out of a brothel, a portrait of Marilyn Monroe and insanely inexpensive (and good) cocktails, knocked up by Arlene, one of the world’s best bartenders. And she doesn’t just sling drinks: Arlene is Champagne’s ambassador and welcoming committee, happy to talk you through the place’s history, including its ties to the Rat Pack and the mafia! (She gave us a quick tour of the framed portraits of mobsters on the wall). The music was underwhelming (generic 1980s classic “drivetime” rock like Richard Marx and Bryan Adams), but the accommodating Arlene let Kevin take over the soundtrack with his own playlist. It took me a while to realize what Kevin is up to while fiddling with his phone. Once early Ike and Tina Turner and 60s girl groups started blasting, I finally asked, “Are you controlling the music?” Our cab driver (and Knut and Anne-Kathrin’s) warned that Champagne’s is in a dangerous neighbourhood – so you probably won’t want to linger or explore the surrounding environs! 

/ That classic mid-twentieth century sign! /

/ Girls Gone Wild! Weezie and Anne-Kathrin at Champagne's Cafe /

Then: beers at the graffiti-covered ne plus ultra of punk dive bars Double Down Saloon. I hadn’t been there in years and thankfully, it was exactly how I remembered it. There’s a reason the sign outside (accurately) declares “happiest place on Earth.” Double Down and Frankie’s Tiki Room are both owned by the same person. Whoever you are, I could kiss you. Hell, I’ll gladly fellate you. Weezie sampled the signature house drink “Ass Juice” and even bought its special accompanying toilet-shaped glass. I vaguely remember Ass Juice being red (the Time Out guide describes it as “a sweet, blood-red concoction of mysterious origin”) and it tasting primarily of Jägermeister. They must have tweaked the recipe: now it’s pink and taste like schnapps. I think I like it better now. 

Back at The Orleans, the musical highlights were Dave and Deke Combo’s Hillbilly Fest and Sebastien Bordeaux.  Disappointingly, the usually excellent Big Sandy & The Flyrite Boys’ set was all mid-tempo and ballad-heavy and we bailed after a few songs. 

/ That girl's got roaches in her hair! Kevin snapped this shot of this stunning woman and her perfect (homemade) recreation of Tracy Turnblad's "cockroach" dress from Hairspray (1988). Surely THE outfit of the whole weekend /

Then: things promptly unraveled. Unbelievably, The Orlean’s ballrooms where the bands were playing ran out of beer! Then the bars downstairs stopped honouring the VLV drink special offers - or closed completely!  It was an anticlimactic end to the weekend. There were a few things that felt “off” this year. I suspect the organisers of Viva Las Vegas have downsized and streamlined things post-COVID, which I don’t begrudge. I was undeniably crushed that Ambassador of Americana Charles Phoenix’s retro slideshow is not on the agenda anymore (for me, he’s always been synonymous with VLV). But the real problems were with the management of The Orleans (not the hardworking staff). They clearly need to raise their game if they want to keep hosting Viva Las Vegas. And while they’re at it, bring back my favourite Californian Benedict to the Copper Whisk Café breakfast menu (it’s Eggs Benedict with the ham swapped for avocado)! Monday was a downer, but then it always is. We had to be checked out of our rooms by 11 am but my flight wasn’t until that night. Weezie and I had planned to hang out by The Orleans pool they’ve tightened security and now the pool is only accessible to guests with an “active” room key – which counted me out. Even though I’d just spent hundreds of dollars to stay there, the pool was now out of bounds! 

Anyway – in conclusion, Viva Las Vegas 2024 itself was a triumph and we’re already contemplating our return in 2025!