"Chasen's"

Web posted on: Wednesday, July 15, 1998 5:35:09 PM

From Reviewer Paul Tatara

(CNN) -- Chasen's restaurant, which was established in 1936 and soon became one of the primary eating and drinking establishments of Hollywood's studio-era big shots, closed its elegant doors in March 1995, the victim of possibly less-than-inspired management and the changing tastes (culinary and otherwise) of our country as a whole. Thus ended a glorious slice of movie-land history, full of gossip, drama, unashamed displays of the high life, great chili, and huge steaks cooked in what appeared to be a pound of butter.

The restaurant's dazzling wallow in glory, and the personal stories of the staff members who proudly dedicated themselves to serving the hoi polloi (many of them for the majority of their adult lives) lay at the heart of Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini's documentary, "Off the Menu: The Last Days of Chasen's," a virtual primer in what used to be called star power, and is now more precisely defined as "people with a lot more money than you and me." The movie is charming, often quite hilarious, and full of first-class anecdotes. It's also extremely sad, and not always because you sense America's ability to publicly celebrate its own sense of freedom going down the toilet.

The cast of characters, and the stories that accompany them, is a broad palette indeed; as a sampler, it includes interviews with, or juicy tidbits about, everybody from Tom Snyder to Alfred Hitchcock to Liz Taylor to Frank Sinatra to Jimmy Stewart to four or five different presidents. One guy recounts how he once saw an outraged Orson Welles toss a lit Sterno into John Houseman's lap, a sight that would have altered my life for the better, I can tell you that.

The recollections just keep coming at you throughout the movie. You also get to see Ed McMahon (how soon we forget) licking his chops while the bartender carefully mixes his specialty drink -- enticingly dubbed "Pepe's Flame of Love." It takes about 20 minutes to prepare the damn thing (adding just the right amount of properly burned orange peel is the trick), and Ed is obviously carrying a torch. The object of his affections becomes wholly apparent when he encourages Pepe to "leave room for the vodka."

As for the suddenly renewed interest in the restaurant after it's announced that management will soon be locking up the kitchen forever, Pepe puts it best: "It's like when somebody's sick. Nobody calls, but everybody goes to the funeral."

As much fun as the stories are, these are last rites we're looking at, and the movie's complexity lies in the variety of lifestyles and world views that are about to bite it once and for all. Berman and Pulcini switch gears from merrymaking to poignant good-byes about two-thirds of the way through, and the result is surprisingly powerful.

There are some real characters here, and not all of them are people you've seen on the screen before. I've already mentioned the inestimable Pepe Ruiz, but there's also Val Schwab, the coat-check woman who used to get $200 tips from Hitchcock (I would imagine it was a massive coat); Onetta Johnson, a bathroom attendant who was the inspiration for Donna Summer's song "She Works Hard for the Money," and then appeared with Summer on the album cover; and Raymond Bilbool, who oversees the entire operation by bitching, cajoling, and brow-beating everybody into doing their very best work.

The real mascot of Chasen's over the years, however, was Tommy Gallagher, the loquacious headwaiter who basically couldn't take "no" for an answer. Tommy cozied up to everybody, becoming the only servant-type in the free world who could kiss Sinatra on the cheek, throw an arm around him and call him "Frank."

Gallagher's son, who considered the restaurant to be the "other woman" that kept his father away from home during the son's formative years, speaks with awe of the photographs that Tommy has of himself posing with every star and politician you can name.

There's skinny little Tommy clowning around with the Rat Pack, grinning with Pope John Paul II (The Pope hangs out at Chasen's?!), and standing in the center of four presidents (Carter, Reagan, Bush, and Ford, if you're keeping score).

Tommy is also the catalyst for the most touching part of the film, serving as the bringer of joy as well as mournfully accentuating the restaurant's fate. The guy was a piece of work, and Chasen's was the ultimate stage for his kind of wacky charisma.

One thing that you develop while watching the movie is a sense of loss when it comes to the quality of our celebrities. Half-talents dropping dead from a heroin overdose or getting serviced by a streetwalker out on the Sunset Strip is a far cry from this kind of basically good-hearted revelry.

My parents used to get Montgomery Clift and a porterhouse, with a sour cream-covered baked potato. I get Ethan Hawke, a tofu salad, and overpriced bottled water. Talk about your sad stories.

"Off the Menu: The Last Days of Chasen's" is spicy, but in an old-fashioned way. There's very little nasty talk, maybe a tad here and there. Overall, it's just a lot of fun. Very cool. Rated PG. 91 minutes.