Archikulture Digest

Film Noir

Film Noir

Written by Brook Pratt

Directed by Kristen Wheeler

Starring Trenell Mooring and Eric Pinder

Musical interlude by Shawn Paris

Boudoir Bombshells Productions

Sept 8, 2011

Dandelion Community Tea, Orlando FL</strong>

I don’t quite get the concept of a writer and director for an improv piece, but then we are always pushing the limits on form and style around here. This relaxed and cross cultural evening began with the song styling of Shawn Paris, a solid all around lounge singer and Frank Sinatra imitator. Using a karaoke machine that looked like a temporary basketball hoop, he did some nice crooning renditions of classics like “The Tender Trap” and “Dancing Cheek to Cheek” His red sport coat and black fedora gave him suave and sophisticated look, which clashed slightly with the vegan hippy atmosphere of Dandelion. Still, he got the barista dancing along with a suspiciously good looking couple who only needed large cardboard numbers on their backs.

As the even progressed, bits and pieces of the show drifted in – two guys in gangster drag, the always elegant Eric Pindar in a white silk scarf, and an enormous flashing marquee that threatened to crush Mr. Paris, and finally the elegant Trenell Mooring. Soon we are off to prohibition era Hollywood and short tale of jealousy, infidelity and death. Rebecca Davis (Mooring) is dead, and she wants to know who killed her. She’s right in the middle of a big film, and her husband Cliffton (James Canavan) just brought her the wrong diamond necklace. She suspects infidelity; he’s been hanging with the younger and needier Phoebe Baxter (Julie Snyder.) The director (“Danger” Bob Mullins) won’t recast the picture, but he does project better than anyone I know. The real seat of power lies in the bipolar studio head Max (Pindar) – he wields power and begs for it at the same time, and when he finally yields to Davis’ request, we find a juicy resolution.

Someone defined Film Noir as knowing that a wrong turn on the highway will lead to disaster, and perhaps that was the fate of our dead heroine. But this was more an atmospheric piece – dark and moody photographs hung on the wall, a dangerous looking model (Jennifer Allen) posed with a cigarette holder and a bit too much lip stick, and photographer producer and show mom Kristen Wheeler attempted to iFilm the show with a steady stream of non participant ducking under her camera line of sight. That’s the last thing a good Film Noir story needs – someone nosing around, documenting facts.

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