Category: Simulated Places

Movie sets, trainers, simulators, fake cities, etc.

  • Paramount Studios, 1970: Let’s Film on the Studio Today

    Paramount Studios, 1970: Let’s Film on the Studio Today

    One sub-niche of 1960s and 1970s television is the show that demonstrates the studio backlot for what it is. It’s a fascinating snapshot into the state of the backlot at that moment, with little embellishment.

    The Brady Bunch ends up at a mysterious ghost town with a menacing prospector. Tumbleweeds tumble. But it’s patently obvious that it’s the studio backlot. Paramount Stage 5 nearly bordered the Western street. While scripts and planning happened well in advance, it’s tempting to imagine a discussion on the order of: “Hey, let’s film on the street today, kids.” These photos are from the “Mission: Impossible” TV series, Season 6, Episode 2, “Encore.” MI was a heavy user of the Paramount backlot and surrounding areas. This episode shows McFadden Street, the (real) guardhouse just outside of the Western street fence, a gate that I believe fronts (the real) Gower Street, and the Western street itself.

    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible, Season 6, Episode 2 "Encore"
    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible, Season 6, Episode 2 “Encore”
    Facing Van Ness - Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible, Season 6, Episode 2 "Encore"
    Facing Van Ness – Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible, Season 6, Episode 2 “Encore”
    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible "Encore" Season 6, Episode 2
    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible “Encore” Season 6, Episode 2

    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible "Encore" Season 6, Episode 2
    Paramount Studios, Mission: Impossible “Encore” Season 6, Episode 2
    Majestic Studios, Mission: Impossible "Encore" Season 6, Episode 2
    Majestic Studios, Mission: Impossible “Encore” Season 6, Episode 2

     

     

  • Fake Americana With a Topping of Grit: 4 Aces Movie Ranch, Palmdale

    Fake Americana With a Topping of Grit: 4 Aces Movie Ranch, Palmdale

    4 Aces, located in Palmdale, California, is every Highway Patrol with Broderick Crawford and B-Minus-film noir from 1949 to 1960 wrapped up into one, big, delightful fake.

    The Diner

    This is where you take the woman hitchhiking in heels with a suitcase and a shady story about her father, in Chicago, kicking her out of the house, when you know it’s really something about a boyfriend or husband. The boyfriend or husband robbed a bank in Indiana, and the woman has the dough in that Samsonite.

    You listen to her story all evening—before you do what you’re about to do with her during the rest of the night. The next morning, she’s dead.

    4 Aces Motel

    Jan-Peter Flack created a movie ranch that specializes in just one look, one slice of Americana that still seems to be hanging on. It’s Atomic Age America but with the door open and the sand beginning to sift inside and the decay starting to happen.

    Even though it looks like a refurbished motel and diner, 4 Aces was apparently built in 1997, from scratch, and was first used for the Lenny Kravitz video for “American Woman.”

    4 Aces Motel Room

    Another 4 Aces Motel Room

  • Paramount Studios’ “Murder Your Wife” Bricks in Murder Alley

    Paramount Studios’ “Murder Your Wife” Bricks in Murder Alley

    At one time, it was assumed that New York City was the world and the world was New York City.

    So, films of the 20th century over-represented New York City in their depictions of ordinary, and often extraordinary, life. This meant that film studios always had to have a New York Street: a collection of four or five intersecting short streets with brownstones and Lower East Side-type cast iron-facade buildings with fire escapes.

    Much of that idea remains. Several Los Angeles-based film studios with backlots still have a New York Street, including Paramount.

    Off to one side at Paramount is a tiny open-air area called Murder Alley. It’s where characters murder and get murdered. Fights break out. Corpses are dumped. Back-alley deals are literally made in this back alley.

    Contributing to the down-trodden look is the haphazard brickwork in Murder Alley. The bricks are unevenly laid. Extensive over-mortaring adds to the sense that this was thrown together with little care for aesthetics.

    Murder Your Wife Brick - Paramount Catalogue

    This brick isn’t made of masonry at all. Rather it’s vacuum-formed plastic that uses real brick as a mold, and it comes in sheets that are 8 1/2 feet wide by 4 feet high.

    The truly interesting detail is its name: Murder Your Wife. It’s identified as PPS-11 in the Paramount Studios catalog. Warner Bros., too, offers Murder Your Wife brick.

    An article in the November 4, 1997, Los Angeles Times says:

    The effect comes largely from his use of murder-your-wife brick, which gets its name from the 1965 Jack Lemmon movie How to Murder Your Wife.

    It continues with a quote from set designer Neil Peter Jampolis:

    They took castings of the brick walls of a Greenwich Village building for that film and made a plastic form out of it. You can buy the casting from Warner Bros. But it has to be skillfully painted, because it only comes in gray. The scenic artist here, Chris Holmes, painted what you see. He’s very talented.

  • Bars, Nightclubs, and Casinos from Ocean’s 11 (1960)

    Bars, Nightclubs, and Casinos from Ocean’s 11 (1960)

    How bad can a movie be yet look fantastic? Ocean’s 11 (1960) is a heist film famous for its slick Rat Pack, mid-century modern trappings, but altogether a heaping, floppy mess. It’s a movie you want to like but can’t. It has no real highs, no lows, no drama, little humor. Interminable parts of the movie happen at Spyros Acebo’s Ladera Drive house in Beverly Hills, where the boys just talk and talk forever. Even one hour into the movie, they have only talked about the heist. The only real spark of life is with Cesar Romero, as Peter Lawford’s father-in-law-to-be, an unspecified Las Vegas fixer-gangster who wises up to the boys’ heist and exposes it.

    Yet the movie has a great look, as the boys progress from casino to casino: Flamingo, Sands, Desert Inn, Riviera, and Sahara. This slavish progression through the five hotels not once, but twice (first casing the joints, then later on, robbing them) is a huge drag on the movie’s storyline, but it’s a great crosscut of 1960s Las Vegas.

    Flamingo Bar

    Flamingo Hotel and Casino Bar from Ocean's 11 (1960)
    Flamingo Hotel and Casino Bar from Ocean’s 11 (1960)

    Sands Cashier/Guard Stand

    Sands Casher/Guard Stand from Oceans 11 (1960)
    Sands Cashier/Guard Stand from Oceans 11 (1960)

    Sands Hotel and Casino Phone Area

    Sands Hotel and Casino Phone Area from Oceans 11 (1960)
    Sands Hotel and Casino Phone Area from Oceans 11 (1960)

    Sands Hotel and Casino Coffee Shop

    Sands Hotel and Casino Coffee Shop from Oceans 11 (1960)
    Sands Hotel and Casino Coffee Shop from Oceans 11 (1960)

    Sahara Casino Nightclub

    Sahara Casino Nightclub from Oceans 11 (1960)
    Sahara Casino Nightclub from Oceans 11 (1960)

    Flamingo Hotel and Casino Entrance

    Flamingo Hotel and Casino Entrance from Oceans 11 (1960)
    Flamingo Hotel and Casino Entrance from Oceans 11 (1960)
  • Premium Deception: Two Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills

    Premium Deception: Two Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills

    Deception happens seamlessly. Two Rodeo Drive is an example of a deception that successfully integrated itself into the fabric of the Beverly Hills street system.

    Following is what you believe Two Rodeo Drive is. It is a Beverly Hills city street, charmingly angled, with a broad staircase on one end and the hilly beginning of a street at the other end. As a pedestrian, you move effortlessly into Two Rodeo either from busy Wilshire Blvd. or from the Dayton Dr./Rodeo Dr. corner. Between those two points are outdoor cafes, bars, and coffee shops. It’s a panoply of people, set in this large jewel box of high-end retailers like Versace and Tiffany & Co.

    This is the reality: everything described above except for two points. It’s not a true city street and it isn’t teeming with outdoor life. Leases are too high for coffee shops and bubble tea stores. One restaurant, 208 Rodeo, does all the heavy lifting of providing a sense of pedestrian life.

    When the 1.25 acre Two Rodeo Drive complex was finished in 1990, it was an early representation of the newly revived outdoor pedestrian mall, supplanting the giant indoor malls that had ruled the 1980s. A November 30, 1990 article in the Los Angeles Times described the “new, $200 million-plus retail development called Two Rodeo Drive/Via Rodeo with its 100,000 hand-set cobblestones.”

    Two Rodeo’s Upward Sloped Street

    Architectural critic Paul Goldberger was smitten, calling it “a kind of theme park for rich adults, a grown-ups’ version of Disneyland’s Main Street in which the attraction is not fake Victorian buildings filled with souvenir shops but architecturally ambitious stone and brick facades housing expensive and status-y boutiques.”

    But Goldberger picks up on the true genius of Two Rodeo: its hilly street.

    Mr. Stitzel’s economic and architectural solution was elegantly simple — to contort his retail complex into a structure that would have two separate ground floors. The first ground floor is on Rodeo Drive itself, in a row of storefronts that looks essentially like any row of elegant, older retail buildings on Madison Avenue in New York . The gimmick is in what is behind these storefronts, a new, curving street, called Via Rodeo, that slopes upward so that the ground floors of its buildings are actually the second floors of the buildings facing Rodeo Drive. Via Rodeo, which is paved with stone and lined with ornate, old-fashioned lamps, is a full story above Rodeo Drive. It begins as a gentle slope at one end of the project; at the other end, it descends to Wilshire Boulevard in the form of a grand marble staircase flanked by a fountain.

    Angling the street upward and in a slight curve accomplishes a few things. Sightlines, those visual indicators of distance, are abolished. When you first enter Two Rodeo, you don’t know how far the street extends, so your mind leaves the question open.

    On ground level, you have the impression that you are passing small store after small store. Really, you’re walking through the middle of two big buildings. Or you can even say that you’re walking through a broad aisle in one building, yet the ceiling of that aisle has been removed.

    Two Rodeo Drive Area – 1928

    The trapezoid-shaped lot bounded by Wilshire, Dayton, Rodeo, and Beverly is basically the same as it was back in 1928. Speedway Dr. is now El Camino Dr.

    Two Rodeo Drive Area – 2018

    On Rodeo Drive

    Looking toward the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Two Rodeo Drive would eventually be built on the left side of this photograph.