Friday's Mod Blow Up

It was back to the VMFA for me tonight, except this time to meet a favorite couple at Amuse, followed by the Friday Film series.

Given the holiday weekend, we met early to ensure getting seats at the bar, just in case.

It was a good thing, too, because tonight was bartender Tommy's last night before he moves over the the special events catering side of the restaurant.

I was sorry to hear that because his cheerful attitude and easy-going nature have always made him a big part of my enjoyment of Amuse.

No one else can say, "Well, hello darling. I was hoping you'd come see me," with a smile quite so wide and sound that sincere.

And it turns out that we were wise to be early because Amuse had done a record lunch today, serving more covers than any lunch since they've opened.

It must have been the place to entertain the fam and out-of-towners to impress and (groan) amuse.

We got our wine and discussed the situation in North Korea before looking at the menu.

First one of the servers, a friend, stopped by to chat with me (and show me his burst blood vessel discreetly hidden behind nerd glasses) and moments later, another friend who now lives in NYC, surprised me with his presence ("Meet me later at 27," he suggested).

When I finally got back to my couple date, I took some ribbing about knowing everyone (four people; big deal!) and we went ahead and ordered so we'd make our movie on time.

Luckily it was a three-minute walk away.

I had the cherrystone clams with Yukon potatoes in a saffron broth and used Amuse's excellent bread to sop up every drop of that golden liquid.

Tommy said he'd already guessed that that would be what I'd order given my fondness for the mussel and Tasso ham dish that is no longer on the menu.

This is why I'll miss having a bartender who knows my tastes so well.

Friends got the scallops with curry aioli and the cheese plate with Coppa, so they were as happy with their meal as I was.

Before we knew it, the time had come to get mod.

Tonight's feature was the provocative 1966 film "Blow Up" about a photographer in swinging London who accidentally photographs a murderer, pulling him out of his self-indulgent and self-centered world.

It didn't, however, stop him from having a fun fight with two wanna-be models who naturally ended up nude, squealing in delight and with their long hair flying.

Ah, the swinging sixties.

Before the film WCVE's jazz DJ Peter Solomon and I had talked for a bit; as he's pointed out on many occasions, we turn up at a lot of the same events.

This time, however, he was the speaker before the movie.

The soundtrack was by a 26-year old Herbie Hancock and Solomon was speaking to this topic.

As he pointed out, Hancock's music was only used in the service of the film, like when a record was put on, so it isn't considered terribly representative of the genius of a man who'd just come off five years of being in Miles Davis' band.

In fact, "Blow Up" was almost a silent film with long periods with no dialog and very little music.

It was striking for how often there was only ambient sound, if any sound at all. I can't imagine that absence of sound being done today, given the short attention span of a typical American audience.

"Blow Up" was a clear exploration of mid-century alienation and detachment, with little to no human emotion as part of everyday life.

Modern man losing out to progress and technology, if you will.

In the pre-film lecture, we heard that the director Michelangelo Antonioni didn't even think about his audience when making the film.

His expectation was that the (1966) audience would meet him half way, and based on him winning the Grand Prix at Cannes, he must have been right.

Like any film of another era, I most enjoyed the period details.

Girls were called "birds" and wore geometric minis with colorful tights (hey, wait a minute...).

The Yardbirds played in a basement club to a blase crowd and Jeff Beck smashed his guitar.

Everyone smoked pot at very smokey parties.

All the birds were bra-less.

It was the 60s, after all.

After my turn as an impromptu photographer at last night's party, I was able to pick up some handy tips from the film about getting more out of my subjects next time.

Maybe I'll take a cue from the photographer in "Blow Up" and get them on the floor and straddle them while saying suggestive things.

My guess is they'll be laughing so hard at me that I'm bound to get pictures worth blowing up all over Facebook.

That or no one will ever let me touch their camera again.

Oh, well.

Everything once.