It’s Cine City, not Sin City; it’s Clint Holmes, honestly

THE kickoff of the CineVegas film festival June 6 was easily the largest red carpet in recent Vegas history. Outside the Palms, thousands of fans were backed up against barricades in lines of nine and 10 people deep. They were there for the star power of George Clooney and Brad Pitt and the rest of the cast of “Ocean’s Thirteen.” Deafening screams broke out as each star hit their mark.

“I think a film festival is great for every city. It creates a culture,” opined Matt Damon. “I am all for it.”

Of course, the “Ocean’s Thirteen” cast members were nowhere to be seen as the festival actually screened films like “All God’s Children Can Dance” based on a short story by Haruki Marukami as well as the requisite film starring Parker Posey (“Broken English”). Still, CineVegas creative director Dennis Hopper remained a permanent presence.

The result is that CineVegas becomes a unique mix of the cultures and styles of Hollywood and Vegas. Film festival veteran Joy Dietrich wrote and directed “Tie a Yellow Ribbon,” shown at the festival. She admits that she is not a typical Vegas person: “They have the seriousness of a film festival in the programming, but at the same time they blend it with their identity of Las Vegas in the parties and in a way that everything is sort of tongue-in-cheek. A lot of us filmmakers talk about film festivals, and these days many see CineVegas in the top 10.”

According to Hopper, who for years has been involved with the festival, which will celebrate its 10th anniversary in ‘08: “I thought, Los Angeles and Las Vegas, these two great entertainment capitals that were paranoiac of each other. I thought they could do a lot with an exchange of cultures. So I help in every way I can. I really love it.”

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‘Just Another Man’

Last week I went to the Nevada Conservatory Theatre at UNLV. Fellow blogger Robin Leach was there. Mirage headliner Danny Gans walked past me, as did former lounge singer and Nevada Lt. Gov. Lorraine Hunt. The reason everyone was there was to see a premiere of “Just Another Man.” This musical was created by and stars former Harrah’s headliner Clint Holmes.

Holmes has spent a lifetime on stage making people feel good. As a headliner at Harrah’s, his show, on the surface, was classic old-school entertainment. Holmes mixed hits, standards and originals with enough charming palaver to endear himself to audiences largely unfamiliar with him. Over time the show evolved, adding more original songs and telling the back story of the entertainer’s life. During World War II, his father, an African American jazz cat of a GI, and his mom, a white British opera singer, fell in love and married. Holmes grew up along with his sister as the only mixed race kids in a small town near Buffalo, N.Y.

On special nights, if Holmes’ mother was present, she would often join him on stage at Harrah’s and, although almost 90, offer a still marvelous operatic take on Gershwin’s “Summertime.” Everyone in Clint Holmes Land lives happily ever after, and everyone in the audience felt uplifted.

But in “Just Another Man,” the family of the fictionalized Holmes, Rei Coles (played by Clint), faces a much more complex reality. Take the romantic meeting of Holmes’ parents in England. In this version, Coles’ mother is married to another man when she meets her jazz-loving American GI, and she is pregnant (with Coles) before marrying him -- not to mention being disowned by her English family.

Vegas may be a setting for part of the show, but “Just Another Man” is not a Vegas show in any way. I have never seen such a deep accounting of being a headliner in Vegas. But it is also a story about regular people and how life does really pass you by and you wind up with compromises.

After the show, an exhausted Holmes told me: “When I had cancer three years ago it felt like I woke up. There is a lot in my life right now, and has been my life, and this show is honest.”

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Literacy in Vegas?

Author Mark Lindquist is in Vegas and would I like to interview him? Lindquist had the fortune, or misfortune, to be associated with the literary brat pack of the ‘80s. When the ‘80s became the ‘90s, Lindquist once again found himself with a view of the zeitgeist. He was living in Seattle watching the grunge scene develop, out of which came his book “Never Mind Nirvana.” Lindquist, released his latest novel last month: “King of Methlehem.” Though continuing Lindquist’s fascination with pop culture, this novel is about speed freaks called tweekers and draws more than any of his other work on Lindquist’s day job as a prosecutor in Pierce County, Wash.

None of this, of course, explains why he was in Vegas. “I asked my publicist to send the book tour through Vegas and she laughed at me. So I asked her if she could end it in Vegas and I would take care of it from there.”

By the time Lindquist and I met in a coffee shop at the Rio, I knew why he was here, though we had yet to discuss it. In fact, I knew the moment I pulled up to the valet. There is only one reason to stay at the Rio this time of year: the World Series of Poker.

“I have been a poker player my whole life,” Lindquist said. He did not pay the $10,000 entry fee but did buy his way into a satellite game for $1,500, hoping to win a ticket to the show. “I have been to Vegas often enough to know that the $1,500 is gone.” And soon it was, with Lindquist eliminated.

Last I heard from him was a text message that arrived at 2:58 a.m.: “Playing poker. Did I miss anything?”

I wrote back: “I guess that depends if you are winning?”

No answer.

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For more of what’s happening on and off the Strip, see

latimes.com/movablebuffet.