It was the summer of 1987, and I was truanting school with a friend and two girls, one of whom I was smitten with. We made our way to the local cinema and saw The Lost Boys. By the time it was over, I had forgotten the girl and was totally enamoured with the film. I probably didn’t shut up about it all the way home. It was the first of many viewings, and the catalyst for many nights of teenage fantasy, discussing how cool it would be to be a vampire, or one of the Frog Brothers, or Corey Haim.

The Lost Boys is often recalled when mentioning him, but the actor had many great roles at the height of his career, including Lucas (for which he won much praise), the crowd favourite License To Drive and the adaptation of Stephen King’s Silver Bullet. And despite a career that faltered once his hype retreated (and due to a nature of drug abuse), Haim remains one of the most-loved Hollywood figures of the 80s. Together with the loss last year of legendary writer/director John Hughes, Generation X has once again been reminded that time stands still for no man – and that it will always be cool to be a fashion victim in Santa Carla.

by Wadrick Jones

Pics: eonline.com; babble.com; boston.com; guardian.co.uk

Annie Hall is nearly always cited as fidgety New Yorker Woody Allen’s best work. And while I’ll agree that it is a great movie, his best film will, for me, always be Hannah & Her Sisters. There are many reasons for this, and perhaps not the most insignificant being the amount of screen time that Allen has in this film (let’s face it, the guy can get annoying). He is a supporting character amidst a host of supporting characters, for there is really no lead actor in this movie – but a supreme ensemble cast nonetheless, eating up Allen’s words with gusto. Hannah (Farrow) is a successful Broadway actress, which is a constant source of antagonism for her fragile, kooky sister Holly (Wiest). Third sibling Lee (Hershey) lives with a Svengali-type (Sydow), but is the object of lust for Hannah’s husband Elliott (Caine). As their lives and the lives of others intersect, they weave a fine tapestry of trademark Allen humour, drama and pathos. The film won a scriptwriting Oscar for Woody, and it’s easy to understand why – the dialogue is consistently sharp, heartfelt and honest, its’ language resonating with subtle meaning and insight. But my appreciation of this film may be totally singular in that it reminds me of a time and place specific to myself. I’ve had the debate often in regards to Allen’s best film. In younger days, I devoured his work like an insatiable hog. Manhattan, The Purple Rose Of Cairo, Zelig, Play It Again Sam – all magnificent films, and among the many great movies that this prolific writer, director and actor has produced over the last forty years. And even if my interest in Woody Allen has waned in recent times, I never tire of visiting New York with Hannah, Holly and Lee.

by Wadrick Jones

Pics: impawards.com; whatsontv.co.uk; thisrecording.com; legendsrevealed.com

Many individuals have come forward with second-hand accounts of their fathers having been involved in the project or had been working at the Lockheed Plant at the time. Yet there are still some who question the validity of the photographs themselves, even though they display no signs of tampering or alteration. In the photo below, you can clearly see a house (or at least the frame) sitting on top of the netting. The effect from the air is remarkable and surely would have served its purpose had a squadron of Japanese bombers descended on California.

The question asked by some is that if this is what the Army was capable of during World War 2, what are they hiding in plain sight today? No doubt things have advanced from the complex camoflage netting employed in the 40s. The mind boggles at the possibilities. So perhaps that vacant block of land you drive past every day on your way to work is not empty at all…(cue Twilight Zone theme).

You can read the original post on Rense.com at http://www.rense.com/general89/lock.htm.

by Max Drake

Pics: supplied to Rense.com by Richard Sauder.