User Reviews

WHERE IT ISN"T ANY LONGER "Where It's At" is an old, late'60's movie that has a certain air to it. It represents an ethos or spirit of a time that has long since vanished. The movie came at the end of a decade of generational conflict as the 1950's faded into more liberated times. The plot revolves around an old school casino owner and his new generation son. The dad wants the kid to take over the operation at the appropriate time; the son balks but later enthuses over the idea. He eventually forces his old man out but then let's him get it back by tossing the cards on an "all or nothing" bet that the son actually wins.

Along the way there are tests of the son's masculinity by a show girl played by Edy Wiliams, Brenda Vaccaro's screen debut as David Janssen's secretary and Don Rickles as a black jack dealer caught cheating at cards. "Where It's At" was made just as the Production Code was being jettisoned. There is obligatory nudity with both Janssen and his son played by Robert Drivas getting an outdoor rubdown, as well as an ass shot of Rosemary Forsyth (Bronwyn in "The War Lord") as Janssen's newly wed wife. Skin was in and although the nudity adds nothing to the plot Rosemary Forsyth was certainly a very beautiful woman. She and Janssen became romantically involved during the film and later carried on a torrid three year affair. The mirror shot makes very clear what attracted Janssen.

No one would claim that "Where It's At" was a great movie or even a particularly good one. But it is entertaining nonetheless. Despite the clichés of the plot, "Where It's At" represented a happier time in American life, a time when people could afford to gamble their money away at casinos and enjoy life, smoke in bed after making love, and do all kinds of happy things before the iron curtain of political correctness descended in the ensuing decades. A corny movie it is in many respects but if you enjoy nostalgia, trips down memory lane, glitz, neon lights and Rosemary Forsyth's beautiful, mind-numbing behind, add it to your collection. You won't be disappointed.

I have this interest in an as yet unrecognized sub-genre, films "old" Hollywood made in the '60s to appeal to the new "youth culture". Think of some sixty year old studio exec or agent exclaiming about how the kids love David Niven, their idea of a hip swinger. The most typical film of this genre is PRUDENCE AND THE PILL which is based on the asinine premise that women couldn't tell the difference between a birth control pill and an aspirin. Ha ha. Obviously made by people who had never seen a birth control pill FOR people who had heard of but had never seen a birth control pill. Its like the Orson Wells story about the frog and the scorpion - Hollywood was trapped by their very nature.

The pity here is that the auteur of WHERE IT'S AT is Garson Kanin whom I greatly admire. He tells some great stories in his memoirs which I recommend highly. However, he hadn't directed a film, except for an unsold TV pilot, since 1945. He adapted his own novel, published the same year as the film's release which suggests that it was more novelization than novel. It must have been frustrating for Kanin, whose wife, Ruth Gordon, was having a rare American second act playing in counter culture epics which 'broke all the rules'.

In general the Hollywood old timers complaint was that, for instance, what was called dirty in an American movie was merely lusty in foreign films. They resolved to, as always, give the audience what it wants. If this is what the kids want, we'll damned well give it to them. If that means breaking all the rules- then fine. So after an attempt at psychedelic credits which turn out to be out-of-focus Las Vegas neon, the opening shot proceeds to 'break all the rules'. A darkened room, whose inhabitants can't be discerned, is back lighted from a picture window with not one but two lights distractingly flashing in the distance. Other colored lights illuminate, to no purpose, the immediate foreground. We find out from the dialog that its a man and a woman in bed but even though the scene goes on for some time and the man walks out of the shot nothing is revealed about the couple because of the dim lighting.

Yeah there's some sex or an attempt at it with what may have been Rosemary Forsyth's (Janssen's real-life mistress) ass seen in a mirror for 4 sec. Kids love nudity and sex. We eventually learn that its a man named Smith (!) (David Janssen) who owns Caesar's Palace and is waiting for his son to arrive in Las Vegas.

The son (Robert Drivas) is wearing a double breasted blazer with a big collared shirt with the collar outside, pink slacks and a silk cravat. Not typical hippie or even young guy duds circa 1969. More like Harpers Bizarre band kit circa 1965. Maybe '64. His hippie hairdo is one which I was tossed out of school for having in 1964. Its actually a monster comb over which prefigures that of The Donald. Drivas looks something like David Cassidy who would have been perfect in the role as Drivas is at least 10 years too old. Janssen hires a bimbo (Edy Williams, famed for being topless at Cannes for decades) to prove his son isn't a fag.

There are non-narrative flash insert edits, a scene where Drivas is seen as a boy of different ages and as a soldier while being talked at by Janssen. A little razzle, no dazzle. There is no back story on their relationship. Drivas' mother died and he's just graduated from Princeton but its like dad was in the raj and the son is returning to India after having been away at school in England since he was 8 years old. Drivas seems as if he's learning that his father owns Caesar's Palace for the first time and is not impressed. Janssen mentions that Drivas is looking a lot more like him but this is patently untrue except for the part about needing hairpieces.

Big band riffs are played on a Hammond organ.

There's some very quick cutting during a conversation between Janssen and Drivas.

There are improv voice overs, at random moments, by a sub- Nichols & May comedy group called The Committee scattered throughout the soundtrack.

There is a hand-held tracking shot following Janssen and Drivas out of an elevator and another, even more senseless, hand held shot.

Halfway in one realizes that not only are there no clocks in Las Vegas there are no calendars. Except for Drivas' ridiculous costumes there is nothing "sixties", nothing "youth culture". The very title was as passé as "hep" and not even used in the correct sense. What we have is the same crapola which drove people from theaters 25 years before when Clark Gable played the gruff operator, the aggressive ubermench who must toughen up his candy ass son to take over his place in the food chain but which he also resents.

There is a big deal concerning the control of Caesar's Palace stock, the financial equivalent of a couple getting married by stopping a minister in the street. No Gaming Commission, no governmental oversight. Time makes no sense at all, man.

Sure there are all of these gimmicks which Kanin has worked into his script but it just doesn't make it man. There was a certain arrogance amongst the Hollywood big-shots, that they could entertain a bunch of children with the latest toys but they all failed miserably. As The Incredible String Band said- "You played all the notes and learned all the words but you never quite learned the song she sang..." or as Dylan said "You know something 's happening but you just don't know what it is, do you Mr. Jones."

What could have been a Vegas version of Valley of the Dolls" is actually a very boring Father and Son drama where the dialogue doesn't get any happier than "My pastries never fall off. Certainly, the Edie Williams character is very close to the Sharon Tate character from the Jacqueline Susanne classic, hired by casino owner David Janssen to seduce his son Robert Drivas to find out if he's gay or not. Certainly, with his wardrobe and hideous comb over hairstyle, that is indeed suspect by 60s fashion trends looks, but writer Garson Man in doesn't do anything at all daring. This is almost a Disneyfied version of Las Vegas outside of some insinuations by Williams characters who asked how much more should be paid for dancing topless. Don't go into this expecting a 60's version of "Showgirls". With all of the elements present that could have made this a camp classic, somehow, it misses the opportunity for that and that's probably the reason why this mediocre film is very obscure.

The relationship between the father and son is barely civil, with Drivas certainly into social causes oh, and not at all interested in his father's raunchy business. Jansen is engaged to the beautiful Rosemary Forsythe, who seems sexually attracted to her future stepson. The only real sympathetic character is Brenda Vaccaro as Janssen's tough talking secretary with the heart of gold, falling head over heels in love with Drivas the moment she meets him, and he's dropping in on his bedroom conversation with Williams, crying out in agony when he lies to Williams about being gay just to get a reaction out of her. Don Rickles is also present as one of the casino dealers, giving the film a bit of ammusement outside the few unintentionally funny moments. Unfortunately, his role is mainly a dramatic one.

What's really surprising about this film is how dull it is even with its flashy setting, never using it to good advantage to show Las Vegas in a realistic manner. This version of the city of lights seems so sanitized that this could be set in an alternative universe. I spent more time watching Drivas and Forsythe to see if there's two their hairstyles would ever move, and of course they don't. Janssen under plays his role to the point where he becomes very unbelievable as the casino owner, and even his yelling out many of his lines doesn't make him intimidating as the boss. For a film trying so hard to be hip and where it's at, it lacks the oomph to really strike a chord either as a good film or as a time capsule.