Mod (Retro) Movie Monday: Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, 2004

Sky Captain

Direct from the Tiki Blog - When I started Mod Movie Mondays, I said they might not always be mod, and they might not always be old. Here’s a flick that will have anyone into Art Deco, retro-30’s style and the sci-fi future of yesteryear drooling.

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, 2004

Beautifully created Art Deco sets inspired by the work of Norman Bel Geddes (of 1930s World’s Fairs fame) transport you back to an alternative history, a 1930s New York where retro-futuristic technology co-exists with fat-fendered cars, where ray guns are real and Nazis are more interested in flying luxury airships than conquering the world. So if Nazis aren’t the nemises in this pre-WW2 adventure, who is? An evil scientist, of course, played by Sir Lawrence Olivier (yes, he was long dead at the time this movie was made - they made fantastic use of B&W archive footage!)

Sky Captain is an airplane pilot who flies a modified P-40 fighter (it not only flies, it’s a submarine). His mission is to protect the world, basically, from anyone who tries to crack things up. When a small army of giant iron robots lands in the Big Apple and start tearing things apart, Sky Captain swoops in. The story progresses from there in a 1930s comic book-style and takes him to exotic lands like Shangri La.

But enough about the story, time to talk about why this flick is being featured here. As I said, the sets are incredible - works of art in every scene. And almost none of it was real - this was one of the first full-length movies to be filmed almost entirely in front of a blue screen, with all of the sets digitally sequenced in. Some sets came from actual photographs, some from vintage art, and the rest were created electronically just for the film. What this translates into is a work of art on a moving canvas living behind the action of the actors. If you like the retro life, you will wish you lived in this movie.

Since the action takes place mainly in 1930s New York of the Future, I’d suggest a retro-futuristic dinner and drinks. Try a deli style sandwich platter of corned beef, roast beef, Swiss or Havarti cheese, and coleslaw on marble rye, served up on your favorite Jetsons-style dishes with a side of waffle fries. For dessert, Dove chocolate ice cream banana splits in Art Deco, blimp-shaped bowls. And for the drinks - Highballs, Slow Gin Fizzes, and of course, Manhattans, served in your finest futuristic stemware.

-Tiki Chris Pinto for Tiki Lounge Talk, South Florida’s Swingin’ Scene for Retro Hipsters and Tiki Lovers

A Tiki Gift from a Good Friend

Sometimes it’s the little things that can really make your day.

A few weeks ago, I was following a thread on Twitter among some Tiki fans who were discussing a cool Tiki desktop fountain they found at Walgreens up North. My good friend Matt (twitter @k9radiotiki) posted a photo of it, and of course I had to have one. I motored the Caddy down to the nearest Walgreens, and nope! They didn’t have em.

I checked out two more in the area and they didn’t have em either. So I reported back on Twitter that couldn’t find one, and a week later I got one in the mail from Matt, no charge. Just goes to show there are still some very groovy people out there! Thanks again buddy, the little Tiki fountain has found a place of honor on the Tiki Bar!

Happy Valentine’s Day from the Tiki Bar!

To The Tiki Lovers, Pirates, Retro Hipsters and Swingers…

Have a Happy & Fun Valentine’s Day!

Here’s a very romantic recipe for a Chocolate Martini…

And here’s a few old-fashioned Valentine’s to remind you of the good old days…

Mod Movie Monday: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, 1968

Hang on to your hats kids, we’re goin’ on a wild ride! It’s

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, 1968

There are few movies that can compare in the combination of craziness, zaniness, modness and madness as this one. Between the comedy of Dick Van Dyke, the beauty of Sally Anne Howes and the original story by Ian Flemming (of James Bond fame) it’s no surprise this flick has remained a favorite for over 40 years.

But let’s not try to fool anyone…the real star of this movie was, of course, the car. A true-bred race car, born to win until a fatal accident retired him to a peaceful life slowly withering away in a field, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang would be rediscovered, and reborn - by Caractacus Potts, a somewhat oddball inventor who seemed to be able to make mechanical wonders out of bits of junk. The ultimate in recycling and restoration came when he brought Chitty back to life, using spare parts from toasters, boilers, and even a boat. And what an amazing cat Caractacus was - a mechanic, machinist, welder, brass-wright, boat-wright, carpenter and inventor all in one!

Of course we’re led to believe he didn’t actually build it all by himself…especially the wings and flotation built into the car…there’s a little bit of magic in that car, just a little.

Depending on where you look, you’ll find that there were anywhere from four to six full-size models of this car built for the movie, with at least one being fully-operational. There’s been a lot of conjecture over the years as to what happened to them all…lost, hiding in barns has always been a favorite of mine. But they all seem to be accounted for…apparently one lives somewhere down here in Florida, so I may even get to see it in person one day.

For someone who has had a hand in restoring (or at least fixing up) old cars since I was a kid, this movie really hits home. More than the fact that it’s a kool little car that can fly, more than the fact that it’s magical. There’s another story here, one that most people don’t care much about…it’s a story about taking something that was once magnificent, and that has since fallen from grace; about taking that wondrous piece of machinery and bringing it back to life, giving it a new chance to delight and be adored. I’ve had the good fortune to do that with a couple of cars, some vintage toys, and even an antique clarinet. I’m doing it now with my 1953 Chevy Belair, although not nearly as quickly (or with as much talent) as Caractacus Potts.

Since this is really a kid’s movie, I’d have to go with some sweet snacks and drinks to go along with it. For drinks, I’m thinking along the lines of chocolate milk…maybe a Nutty Irishman, or Chocolate Martini. For snacks, break out the hard candies, chocolates and cakes. Some good old-fashioned Hershey’s chocolate bars and Brach’s hard candies should do the trick. Oh, and don’t for get the Maloxx.

-Tiki Chris Pinto, Live from The Tiki Blog

Mike Hammer…They Don’t Build Tough Guy Detectives Like This Anymore

I am sitting at the Tiki Bar on the lanai, sipping a Jack and Ginger and enjoying the cool South Florida evening breeze. This is my favorite time of year, when it’s warm and sunny by day and crisp at night. It’s evenings like this when I remember the old days, before I moved to Florida; how it’s icy cold and dark and gray and morbid in the North East, how everything is dead up there and everything is green and lush and full of life here. It’s evenings like this when I like to crack open a Mike Hammer novel, and remember the past.

When I read Mike Hammer, it takes me back to that other time, that other place. That dark, rough time in the city, when the nights were full of alluring dames and cheap booze and the weight of my .45 kept dragging me down, reminding me that there were big, tough wiseguys that needed a lesson in respect, beat into them the right way, with a crowbar. That other time, long ago; that dark, evil time in the rain-soaked, soot-streaked city.

Phillip Marlow was tough. Sam Spade knew his way around a .38. Even Sonny Crocket could pull a trigger on an Uzi without blinking an eye. But in the tough guy department, none of them came close to Mike Hammer.

I’m not talking about the watered-down-for-TV Mike Hammer, played by Darrin McGavin in the ’50s and Stacey Keach in the ’80s. I’m talking about the real Mike Hammer, the borderline-psychopath detective dreamed up by Mickey Spillane in the late 1940’s through the ’50s, the .45 automatic-toting ex-army special forces operative who learned how to track and maim and kill in the jungles of World War II, the big tough street mug with a fist of ice cold steel and a soft spot in his heart for the dames. That Mike Hammer.

If you’ve read Spillane, you know what I’m getting at. If you haven’t, you should, on the double. Just the fact that you’ve read this far clues me in that you’re gonna like it something big.

Of all the great (and not so great but nevertheless popular) detective stories that came out of the last 80 or so years, from Marlow to Veronica Mars, from Ellery Queen to Tony Rome, from James Bond to Batman, only one really stands out as something darker, something almost horrifying…the original down and dirty streetwise gumshoe, the hardcore dime-store private eye who did things his own way and got away with it, his way. Many copied his style down the line, but they never hit on the real difference, the one thing that made Hammer stand a couple of blocks away from all the rest.

You see, Mike Hammer was a murderer.

Sure, he had a private dick’s ticket, a little card stamped by the State of New York that gave him the legal right to carry a heater and arrest bad guys. But to Hammer, it was nothing more than a ‘get out of jail free’ card. A convenience when it came to court time. A slip of paper that gave him the right clean up his beloved city, to wipe up the back alleys and dimly-lit tap rooms with the faces of the city’s scum, and then to go a step further…because he’d been around the block few times, and he knew the score…arresting the bad guys didn’t do nuts. They’d get off; sure as hell they’d get sent up for a short stretch and be back on the streets mugging and robbing and beating up dames and little guys for spending cash and kicks. Jail wasn’t enough for this filth. They needed to be punished.

The small-time hoods got off easy with a beating they’d remember for life. A couple of cracked ribs, a broken jaw and brain damage usually did the trick with Horse-pushers and lowlife pimps, two-bit gamblers and croocked politicians. But for the killers…well, that was another story. An eye for an eye. If they lived as killers they needed to die as killers, by an equally evil and screwed-up killer. Mike was the self-appointed jailer, judge, jury…and executioner. And he always found a way to make his story stick, make it legit…one way or another, he would kill, he would need to kill; he would justify it as ridding the world of evil and he’d get away clean.

Don’t believe me? Think I’ve gone off the deep end? Set your peepers on this little bit of insight, taken from the first few pages of One Lonely Night, the fourth book in the Mike Hammer series. Published in 1951, the story gives an inner view of Hammer’s mind, the way he thinks, and what he thinks about the world he’s been forced into. To me, these few paragraphs sum up his character, the whole series, and the darker side of life in “the good old days”. It’s what made me really appreciate Mike Hammer when I first read I, The Jury at age 12. It makes me appreciate all the Hammer novels for what they are: The real diary of a madman.

(talking about a judge who wanted to throw the book at him, but could not) “…I was a licensed investigator who knocked off somebody who needed knocking off bad and he couldn’t get to me. So I was a murderer by definition and all the law could do was shake its finger at definitions.”…”maybe he thought I should have stayed there and called the cops when the bastard had a rod in his hand and it was pointing at my gut…” “He had to take me back five years to a time he knew of only second hand and tell me how it took a war to show me the power of the gun and the obscene pleasure that was brutality and force, the spicy sweetness of murder sanctified by law. That was me.” “…There in the muck and slime of the jungle, there in the stink that hung over the beaches rising from the bodies of the dead, there in the half-light of too many dusks and dawns laced together with the crisscrossed patterns of bullets, I had gotten a taste of death and found it palatable to the extent I could never again eat the fruits of a normal civilization.”…”I was a killer. I was a murderer, legalized. I had no reason for living. Yeah, he said that!”*

Mix that insanity in a shaker with a Colt .45 Combat Commander and an insatiable appetite for serving justice. Throw in a couple of ice cubes and a busty brunette secretary named Velda. Pour it in a tall chilled glass, frosty with the blood of a hundred hoodlums and garnish it with a peel of the city at night, and you’ve got a Mike Hammer Manhattan.

There are 13 books in the Mike Hammer series, plus the TV scripts and screen plays. But with the passing of Spillane a few years ago flew any chance of ever hearing Mike’s voice say anything new again. Others may try, some may come close. But no one can dole out the imagery or lay down the style that Mickey gave to his fantastically flawed unsung hero, Mike Hammer.

(Read the books, start from the beginning with I, The Jury and follow Mike all the way through to Black Alley. If you dig reading about real mid-century American culture through the eyes of an author who was writing these books at the time, as the present, you’ll absolutely enjoy Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer.)

-Original Content by Christopher Pinto for Tiki Lounge Talk.
*Passages from “One Lonely Night” written by Mickey Spillane, ©1951, 1979, used for informational/educational purposes only.