This weekend I attended the world premiere of The Tony Alva Story presented by Vans at the Newport Beach Film Festival. The screening took place inside Lido Theater, Balboa Peninsula’s one-screen wonder plumped with 1920s decadence and bygone cinematic drama. (The glittering marquee! The thick, red curtain! The wide seats!
On its surface, the story of William Garrett “Snuffy” Walden plays out like an expertly written drama. The innocence of youth, the tragedy of rock ‘n’ roll, the demise, the about-face and finally, the triumph. But as evident in Up to Snuff, a documentary shown at the Newport Beach Film Festival,
I couldn’t move. Stuffed hundreds deep into a tacky, plush-red nightclub in midtown Manhattan that smelled of fresh sweat and cheap vodka, I was stuck in place, a proverbial halter-topped sardine of the night, waiting for Steve Aoki’s set to start while wearing a surprising amount of bracelets and glitter,