There’s nothing like stepping on the stars.
The names of the Hollywood glitterati were almost obscured by a horde of dirty footprints.
Imagine working your way up from small theatre roles to television fame and movie stardom, and then the prestige of a coveted place on the Hollywood Walk of Fame only for a clump of disinterested tourists to stamp their grime and dirt all over your name?
Maybe that’s a romantic view of the precarious route to be accepted as part of the acting A-list, yet it seemed like I was the only one actually attempting to identify the leading lights dotted across the pavement.
Hundreds of feet trod on Jack Nicholson without as much as a second glance.
I could barely take a picture without a barrage of sweaty, stinky plates of meat blocking out the view.
The walking disinterested could easily have passed for Nicholson’s co-stars from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I wanted the twins from The Shining to eerily show up out of nowhere and scare them all away.
Downtrodden comedian Rodney Dangerfield, whose star I missed on the foot filled stroll, would definitely have fired off a barrage of quick-fire gags about the shoe intruders having no respect.
The proximity of Nicholson’s star to the historic Chinese Theater probably had something to do with the rush to stomp dirt all over his name.
It’s a spectacular building, although getting a clear view of its architectural beauty in and among the sightseeing throng was a small achievement in itself. A security guard manned the door with the stillness of a statue as a lonely traffic cone lingered on the scene. In Glasgow someone might have been tempted to put the cone on the guy’s head, yet in Los Angeles it’s almost considered a crime to approach anyone never mind talk to them.
Paranoia aside, I have never liked being in crowds and didn’t particularly relish moving around the bunch of bodies to gander at the footprints and signatures of the stars forever frozen in concrete outside the grand old theatre.
In the shadows of the camera wielding outsiders, I did get a few pics of my own from the cast of Star Wars to the legendary Jimmy Stewart and immortal Kobe Bryant.
A sprinkling of other sports icons, including the one-of-a-kind Muhammad Ali, were also honoured as I ventured back on the constellation of the stars with those from television, radio, theatre, and music also featured.
I kept my eyes focused on the ground as everyone else looked straight ahead as we took a brief diversion into the modern looking Dolby Theater, the home of the Oscars, and the collection of outdoor shops beside it. The Hollywood sign was clearly visible on the bright April day of our brief tour into the land of instantly recognizable names and forgotten ones from the past.
Across Hollywood Boulevard the majestic El Capitan Theatre stood beside tacky tourist stores with talk show host Jimmy Kimmel in the building next door.
It was back to the terrazzo and brass squares – maybe gold was too expensive and too tempting for thieves – on the floor before we finally got fed up.
Only a few brisk steppers interrupted as I spotted Sissy Spacek – unforgettable in Carrie – the incomparable Paul Newman, multitalented Tom Hanks, and the sensational Lionel Richie (a personal favourite).
Ambling further down the street a few dubious looking characters were noticeable among the never-ending stroll of foreign visitors. The stars didn’t gleam so brightly as we reached a monumental Scientology centre – thankfully no one was prattling on about the mystical power of orgones, a la Peep Show, as I cautiously took a quick gander inside before quickly moving on. The last thing you want is being pressured into joining an alleged cult on a harmless day out.
The striking art deco design of the vacant First National Building was breathtaking as we waited at a crosswalk before the last leg of the outing. Southern Californian drivers either don’t acknowledge or see pedestrians so it’s worth checking for mad drivers even when it is supposedly safe to head across the road.
This silly old hockey puck politely asked an elderly couple to move out the way for a photo beside the star of the great Don Rickles. I discovered his lethal brand of insult comedy relatively late on and still love to watch his savage put-downs in classic YouTube videos. Next up was Steve Carell, a powerhouse of egotism, awkwardness and vulnerability as Michael Scott in the US version of The Office. I surprised myself by blurting out a rather too jaunty ‘That’s what she said’ as an English family looked over at the star and the schmuck squatting down to admire it. Poor attempts at catchphrase comedy aside we decided to give up the star search after a couple of hours.
A last look at a section reserved for boy bands, from New Kids on the Block to The Osmonds, was briefly disrupted by a weirdo racing his little model car over the star panels. Why look at all the great names when you can drive your tiny wee motor all over them? It was a bizarre end to an eye-opening sojourn.
The walk is unquestionably an attraction of sorts, just not a particularly compelling one.
I consider myself a dedicated film fan but the initial excitement of it all subsided fairly quickly. I would still recommend it though.
Those that cough up a staggering $75,000 for the privilege of buying a star – I can’t be alone in naively thinking it was either free or subsidized by the big film studios – at least have a testament of their existence. It could also be interpreted as an expensive vanity project, albeit one that stands the test of time, even if it’s encrusted in layers of dust and filth from the feet of the uncaring masses.
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Stephen Kasiewicz 