Hollywood 90028 (1973)

It should come as no surprise that this is a Hollywood film. The title places us squarely there, and the movie opens with shots of the neighborhood, captured in its 1970s grittiness complete with bustling sidewalks, pornography theaters, and arcades. The premise is also very Hollywood: What is it about this city that makes people leave their lives behind to move there? And what happens when the dreams they imagined do not come to fruition—when the city does not deliver on its supposed promise? 

Last week I entered the NYC debut of the 4K restoration of Hollywood 90028, hosted by The Future of Film is Female, with little foreknowledge of the movie. The brief description I had read suggested a lurid tale: A disillusioned cameraman who has only found work shooting pornography takes his frustration out on women by strangling them. And while that is an accurate description of what happens, the movie delivers so much more. 

The film is stunning, complex, and disturbing. Aptly described elsewhere as “grindhouse meets art house,” Hollywood 90028 is strikingly beautiful and slow paced with many scenes driven more by mood, tone, and character than they are driven by plot. The camera lingers while capturing the city, from the decaying houses in Bunker Hill to the landscape of Mount Lee beneath the iconic Hollywood sign. One scene captures Mark in profile as he walks in front of a series of murals. These extended sequences offer opportunities for our two main characters to share their motivations and philosophies in uninterrupted monologues—Mark is still holding onto his dream of working on big films, while Michele, his love interest, is more pragmatic about her situation. There’s also a lightness and humor at times, like when Mark explains to Michele in circular logic the problem with 30-somethings leaving L.A.

While these scenes humanize Mark, the audience already knows from the opening sequence that he is a killer. After he strangles a woman, the movie cuts to the opening credits: a supercut of childhood photos shows a boy raised among girls who later has a younger brother whom he loved dearly, but he played a hand in that younger brother’s death—accidentally or not. Does he kill the things he loves? That rationale doesn’t quite fit because there are inconsistencies between the kills. The first on-screen kill is cold and calculated, and its casualness suggests he has done this many times before with impunity. For the second kill, he is emotionally triggered, flashing back to anger he felt being bossed around by his sisters. The third kill happens off screen, but seems to echo the loss of his brother. Insert popular meme: Men would rather kill people than go to therapy. 

The movie ends in a truly shocking way, and I was stunned by the what-the-fuckness of it all as the lights came on in the theater. That there were no end credits added to this jarring effect. You can see the potential for a more ambiguous ending, and it is almost the one I would prefer. However, I have never left a movie theater feeling stunned, so there is something to say about the ending’s effectiveness—it will stick with viewers long after the film is over. 

Hollywood 90028 is director Christina Hornisher’s only feature film. It’s interesting it came out in 1973, the same year as Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hess, another exploitation film gone art house. Of course, Ganja & Hess was edited to pieces and only recently, in its restored form, has begun to receive the acclaim it deserves. Hollywood 90028 has remained in obscurity until now. Perhaps this new restoration will finally bring attention to the film. Unfortunately, as with Gunn when Ganja & Hess got its due, Hornisher is no longer alive to gather her flowers. 4 out of 5 sacs of blood.

—Gina Myers