California has always been an empty sales pitch. Its first settlements were borne of missionary zeal. It promised a haven from marauders, banditos and mercenaries. Since then it has wiled us with unlimited gold, boundless harvests, silver screen-stardom, dotcom salvation and hi-tech silicon marvels. It has always been a place that promises a good chance of success-if you're youthful or white. And if you're Mexican, it at least promises a decent chance of survival.
It is a place that instantly forgets its past so it can reinvent it for tourists and dreamers. True reality has never been good enough for Californians. They are always vaguely dissatisfied with themselves, their bodies, their spirituality, their government and their present car. Yet they still believe they shape both American culture and American character. And to a large degree, they have.
In his unique and sardonic way, Rich takes the viewer on a skewed but keenly-eyed journey to the place built on a tectonic faultline, but still calls itself the Land of Dreams.
