The Sunday Times
London, England
February 24, 2002
Tony Perrottet
Lights, Camera, Hawaii
Elvis, Frank, Harrison and the rest all shot movies on Kauai
island.
Tony Perrottet goes on location and feels the spirit of Hollywood
On an archipelago wandered by native ghosts - where the remains of
royal temples sprawl like dinosaur bones by the flanks of tropical
volcanoes - even the ruined grounds of an atomic-era beach resort
become an ideal setting for a seance. At least that's how it felt as
I sat in a custom-fitted mini van with a dozen other travelling
voyeurs, all of us peering out at the faux-Polynesian Coco Palms
Hotel, abandoned and derelict since it was hit by a hurricane nine
years ago.
On cue, a video screen above the driver's seat flickered to life.
And, as we watched in rapt silence, the Coco Palms appeared in its
true glory - back in 1961, when it was used as the set for Blue
Hawaii. In one of the most famous cinematic images of the islands,
Elvis and his co-star, Joan Blackman, floated on a barge across the
hotel lagoon to be married, garlanded with leis and crooning, "On
this our wedding day..." Suddenly, this was no longer a shabby,
wrecked motel beside a suburban highway in Kauai; instead, it had the
aura of a sacred site, protected by island spirits.
Not surprisingly, the Coco Palms plays a key role in Hawaii's most
lucrative new travel craze - movie tours, where tourists are taken to
famous film locations and shown taped clips from the movies
themselves, in situ. On the dreamy island of Kauai, the ancient gods
have been elbowed aside; its mountains pulse with a new mythology.
Suitably primed by Elvis, we eased out of our comfortable aeroplane
seats to inspect the shattered hotel. The grounds were still a mess,
like a Hawaiian Xanadu gone to seed: the lagoon rimmed with algae,
the pool drained, the fountains dry, the tiki torches dulled. As with
any decent ruin, though, the decay only added to the eerie effect;
when a coconut thumped to the ground in the untended grove nearby,
everyone jumped a foot.
Abruptly, our learned guide - a film expert named Marty Mills, with
a mop of sandy hair and a frayed moustache - pointed across the
lagoon at a string of thatch-roofed huts. "Elvis stayed in that
bungalow while he was in Kauai," he intoned solemnly, pausing a beat
for effect. "AND on his honeymoon with Priscilla."
For "security reasons" we were not allowed within 10 yards of the
shrine - an elderly hotel caretaker stood by with a broom, like a
spectral guardian, to ward off souvenir-hunters. (Apparently, people
have filched the hotel's famous bathroom sinks, made of giant clam
shells.) Elvis's bungalow was looking pretty sorry - a sheet of black
plastic had been strung across its roof to keep out the rain - but we
pressed forward for snaps anyway.
Finally, Marty led us into the main resort building, where the
original bar-restaurant was now a dismal grotto. Woven-grass lamp
shades oozed mildew from above, while a mural showing Polynesian life
lay beneath a wall of dust. We examined the location of Elvis's favourite table,
took in some
handy trivia - his standard breakfast? Bacon and eggs. Lunch and
dinner? Cheeseburgers, every time. His favourite snack?
Peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches - and then found the very spot at
the bar where he had ordered a mai tai in the scene we'd just watched in our
mini van.
"If you stand right here, you can channel Elvis," Marty crowed,
swaying his hips in a hula. Then he leant over the bar to produce a
relic: "It's Elvis's mai-tai glass."
WHETHER THEY'RE aware of it or not, every visitor to the "Garden
Island" of Kauai experiences a creeping sense of deja vu. This is
hardly surprising, given that 70 Hollywood films have been shot on
the island since 1950, when Esther Williams starred in a chintzy
water ballet called Pagan Love Song. A location scout had
discovered that Kauai was the greenest, wildest and most spectacular
corner of the Hawaiian archipelago. Before long, Hollywood studios
were choosing the island for such kitsch classics as She Gods of
Shark Reef, The Seven Women From Hell and Voodoo Island. But Kauai's
big break came in 1958, with the smash-hit Rodgers & Hammerstein
musical South Pacific. When Mitzi Gaynor sang I'm Gonna Wash That Man
Right Outta My Hair in front of the verdant Bali Ha'i Mountain,
mainland America was smitten. Ever since, whenever the dream factory has needed
a vision of sultry
Eden (or an infernal, snake-filled jungle for horror movies), it has headed
straight to Kauai.
Most often, the island has impersonated other, more exotic lands.
Its all-purpose jungle landscape has doubled as Central America (all
three parts of the Jurassic Park franchise, as well as the first
scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark), the Congo (Outbreak), Tahiti (Six
Days, Seven Nights), the Caribbean (Islands in the Stream, Hook, The
Man With the Golden Gun) and Vietnam (Uncommon Valour). Kauai has
stood in for innumerable "uncharted Pacific isles" - in everything
from the 1977 remake of King Kong to the last scene of Body Heat,
when Kathleen Turner lounges in her secret beach hideaway. It even
played Australia in The Thorn Birds.
The sheer density of movie references makes Kauai the film-culture
equivalent of the Louvre. Five years ago, the inevit-able happened: a local
entrepreneur had the bright idea of escorting visitors to each location and
providing
private film screenings. Today, Hawaii Movie Tours is a booming
business.
OUTSIDE THE company's small suburban office, where I'd dutifully
turned up at 8.45am, was the very same Jeep that
was mangled by a T-rex in the first Jurassic Park. Inside, Marty
Mills was calmly awaiting his cue, wearing a turquoise aloha shirt
emblazoned with hula girls. His clients seemed a typical cross
section of American honeymooners and retirees, but, whereas bus tours
often inspire melancholic resignation, our little van was brimming
with raw excitement from the moment Marty grabbed the mike and said,
in his cinema-preview voice-over, "My name is Marty, and I'll be your
host today ...", then showed the first teasing video clips that
flickered before our hungry eyes.
From the first stop, it was obvious that the movies have become part
of a higher reality - a mythic superlevel, above and beyond the
transient physical world, which brings the landscape into brilliant
focus. We rolled up to Hanamaulu Beach - a seemingly nondescript
stretch of sand until Marty informed us this was the site of the
Boris Karloff classic Voodoo Island. The video clip rolled, showing
Karloff stumbling up the beach, and Marty began his shtick: "Boris is
shipwrecked on a remote Pacific island and has to fight a Haitian
zombie cult with a giant woman-eating plant. That's right, folks, it
was a very chauvinistic killer plant."
The tenuous line between reality and illusion began to blur. Bathed
in the serene blue light of video, we marvelled at "Hana Iti Airport"
- a tiny shed in an open field, left over from Six Days, Seven
Nights, with the sign "Welcome to Tahiti" - then watched Harrison
Ford and Anne Heche arrive by small plane. We gaped at Kong Mountain
looming like a giant shark's fin, then saw the Paramount logo fade in
the opening shot of Raiders of the Lost Ark. From a headland lookout,
we saw the beach where a B-52 bomber was crash-landed for the Frank
Sinatra second world war flick None But the Brave, then watched the
screen as Frank himself argued with fellow marines. The wrecked plane was still
there on private land, Marty confided. The movie-tours company had made a
sizeable
cash offer for this invaluable artefact, but the owner wasn't much
of a film buff. "He told us to go away - and never call him again!" A
few minutes later, we saw the beach where Sinatra was actually sucked
out to sea and nearly drowned in 1963. It caused a moment of
confusion on our tour. "What movie was that?" someone asked.
But enough of Sinatra. There was no disputing who stood at the top
of the new Hawaiian pantheon. Any mention of the name Elvis produced
a hushed, respectful silence (as, curiously, did any reference to
Jurassic Park, as if the raptors might still be out there).
Some passengers were ashamed to admit that they had never heard of
the third Elvis film shot on Kauai - Girls! Girls! Girls! - but Marty
magnanimously brought us up to speed: "In this 1962 romp, Elvis plays
a fisherman who moonlights as a nightclub singer to buy back his
father's boat. See it, ladies and gentlemen, if only for the immortal
melodies - We're Coming in Loaded and Song of the Shrimp."
As the tour wound on, it was apparent that Marty was possessed of a
healthy irony about his subject - one that few of his passengers
shared. We picnicked near the mansion to which James Caan flew Sarah
Jessica Parker in Honeymoon in Vegas (value: Pounds 1.8m. Owner: a
member of REM). As we peered over the hedge at its pool, Marty
advised: "If you ever get your house in a movie, charge them a lot of
money. For you will be forever plagued by people coming to see it."
THERE'S ONLY one danger with a movie tour: the short attention span
of the modern audience. But Marty knew how to deal with the problem.
After a picnic lunch, sensing that our minds were beginning to
wander, he cranked up the silliness factor.
In the verdant valley of Hanalei, there was an enforced sing-along
to Peter, Paul and Mary's Puff the Magic Dragon. We paused at the
pier where much of South Pacific was shot and sang along with a
troupe of GIs to Ain't Nothin' Like a Dame (from South Pacific).
Finally, as we made our way home, the Hollywood magic looked like it
might at last run out. I found myself watching James Garner in
Cast-away Cowboy, John Wayne in Donovan's Reef and Charlton Heston in
Diamond Head. Seventy films may have been shot here on Kauai, but I
was beginning to wonder how many were any good.
Of course, Marty knew how to snap us back to alertness. As the mini
van roared into the home stretch, he slapped Blue Hawaii back into
the video machine - "Because we believe you can't have too much Elvis
on a movie tour." There were hoots and cheers as the king re-emerged in all his
youth
and glory. And we rolled happily along the highway to the strumming
of a ukulele and Rock-a-Hula Baby.
TRAVEL BRIEF
Getting there: there are no direct flights to Kauai from the UK or
Ireland, but United Airlines (0845 844 4777; www.
unitedairlines.co.uk) has connections via Los Angeles or San
Francisco. The Airline Network (0870 241 0011; www.netflights.com)
has flights to Kauai from Heathrow with United Airlines from Pounds
519. Or try Trailfinders (020 7938 3939), Flight
Centre (0870 566 6677; www.flightcentre. co.uk) or Travelbag (020
7287 5556). If you are travelling from the Irish Republic, it is
cheaper to buy a ticket from London.
Where to stay: Hawaiian Holidays (020 7304 5730;
www.travel-hawaii.co.uk) can book Kauai hotels, ranging from the
Aston Islander on the Beach (doubles from Pounds 69 per night) to the
Sheraton Kauai Resort (doubles from Pounds 155).
Tour operators: United Vacations (0870 606 2222;
www.unitedvacations.co.uk) offers tailor-made trips to Kauai: one
week at the Radisson Kauai Beach Resort, B&B, starts at Pounds
1,057pp, including car hire and flights from Heathrow. Or try
Hawaiian Holidays (as above) or Page & Moy (0870 010 6456;
www.page-moy.com).
Movie tours: Hawaii Movie Tours (00 1 808 822 1192;
www.hawaiimovietour.com): one-day guided tour for Pounds 68pp.
Further information: visit the thorough website
www.gohawaii.com.