Around the Valley : Sometimes It Takes a Lot of Rehearsing to Be Spontaneous

Although it is February, a glaring sun threatens to make bathwater out of the refrigerated ice rink at Universal CityWalk, where $100 million worth of neon and illusion masquerades as a sanitized, L.A.-hip version of reality.

Comedian-slash-ventriloquist Terry Miller is talking to Bingo, as he calls his sidekick, an irrepressible--albeit flammable--dummy with major at-tee-tude.

Nixatory on dummy . Make that “wooden person,” Miller corrects, his consciousness having been raised to new knotholes of political correctness by his 15-year partnership with Bingo.

“It’s the ‘90s, man, get with it!” Bingo scolds.

Then, referring to a popular horror movie about a killer doll, Bingo confides, “One good thing about being a wooden person is, if the kids get on my nerves, all I have to say is, ‘Hi, I’m Chuckie. Wanna play?’ ”

Reality check: Are we really watching a fake person cracking jokes in the middle of a fake street, auditioning for a job as a prearranged impromptu entertainer a few yards away from a fake skating rink with speakers blasting out the Rolling Stones: “ You can’t always get what you wah-unt “?

Must be another faux spring in oh-so-faux L.A. and audition time at CityWalk, a monument that mimics a city where a carwash built in the 1950s can be considered a historic landmark. Only in Los Angeles is the line between real and unreal as unstable as the earth beneath our feet.

When it was built a couple of years ago, CityWalk was roundly criticized as a sanitized, even Orwellian version of the city.

There was much hand-wringing about why $100 million should be spent to build a movie-studio version of Los Angeles, when the real thing desperately needed fixing.

And then the fuss died down. We moved on to other communal experiences of the surreal, like the O.J. Simpson trial.

“Idealized reality,” an MCA corporate honcho once called the CityWalk experience. So why should the outdoor entertainment be any different?

As the two dozen street performers turned out Saturday morning for the open-call auditions, Mr. Bojangles was probably rolling over in his grave.

This Star Search alfresco was run by a panel of three judges who will determine who and what is suitable entertainment for families, tourists and suburban yups fearful of places like Melrose Avenue and Hollywood Boulevard.

At CityWalk and other mall hybrids such as Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade, the street performers have turned pro. If you still see them as the last of a breed of rugged individualists and spontaneous free spirits who shun the time clock in pursuit of art in its purest form, allow us to bring you up to date:

After leaving their vehicles at valet parking, these knights of the busker trail literally jumped through hoops to win a $200-a-week paycheck from mega-mega-corporation MCA.

“This is a full-time job,” said Lisa Bongiovanni, a CityWalk spokeswoman.

Romantics be damned, the performers gave not a hoot about the corrupting influence of sweeping commercialism. Clowns gotta eat. A mime’s gotta do what a mime’s gotta do, right?

Most of the hopefuls carried business and insurance cards, along with the trained parrots and Hula-Hoops and juggler’s pins and guitars and balloons.

Some of the wanna-bes even had agents and a television commercial or two on their resumes. Be they mime or ventriloquist or even the World’s Greatest Upside Down Yodeler, they were drawn to CityWalk for reasons beyond its crime-free, wino-free, graffiti-free ambience.

Several performers volunteered that because it is studio-adjacent, working at CityWalk offers, just maybe, a shot at being discovered by strolling studio bigwigs or well-heeled Japanese businessmen.

That’s certainly what Methalique, the silver-tressed mime, had in mind.

” ,” the mime explained.

Describing CityWalk as “ ,” she added: “ .”

Audrey Ruttan, a 41-year-old pathologist who also does Michael Jackson impersonations and moonlights as Methalique’s spokeswoman, elaborated: “The film business is up here and, well, you never know.”

Miller, the 39-year-old friend-o’-Bingo, said he usually performs in comedy clubs but recently discovered the joys of street performing when he cleared about about $200 in two hours.

“This is like taking candy from a baby,” he said. “I do it because I love it.” He eyed the competition. “I recognize some of these people from the boardwalk in Venice.”

*

Corey, a 28-year-old free-style bicyclist, made his first $20 performing tricks for a tourist’s video camera on the boardwalk in Virginia Beach when he was 15. Now a veteran, he has traveled the country and appeared in a couple of movies.

He remembers the old days when the cops would chase him off the boardwalk, lest he hurt the precious tourists. “But the tourists loved it,” he said.

A CityWalk contract seems mighty attractive to him now that he’s been laid off from his day job at a discount store. And he doesn’t work Venice or the Boulevard any more.

“I’ve been jumped by people trying to take my bike,” he said. “I don’t take my bike out on the street anymore. I’m counting on this being my source of income.”

I have a friend who used to be a street minstrel in San Francisco in the 1970s. I believe he played the dulcimer along the Marina. I tried to solicit his expert opinion, but he couldn’t be reached for comment.

Even though I left a message on his voice-mail and tried to beep him.

Sigh.