Playground of Doom

Why Remember Anything: The Willies (1990)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sat, 02 May 2015 02:45:00 +0000

Part One: I Don’t Remember Much, But Dammit, I Remember The Willies (1990)

The heading for this particular outing should be self-explanatory. I once, somewhere in the hazy shades of childhood, bore witness to a cinematic atrocity called The Willies. I say “atrocity” because even at my young age, I knew that I was watching a really bad movie.

Perhaps I should backtrack, though, and explain to my audience (left in the dark) what The Willies is.

I am working from a very foggy memory, but here is my best description.

The Willies falls into that classic Bastian of the horror genre, which is known as the anthology film. Other examples would include Creepshow and Tales from the Hood. The obvious difference between those movies and The Willies is that it is ostensibly “for children.” Kids sit around the campfire and tell each other familiar urban legends to give themselves (you guessed it) “the Willies.”

Remember the story about the rat discovered in the KFC bucket? That one gets a fine rendition here.

How about the one where the old woman puts her poodle in the microwave “to dry off?” That is here, too.

I have two enduring memories of this movie myself:

· One of the stories features an old man who goes for a ride through an amusement park Haunted House. One of the rooms features a lovely “Jack the Ripper” theme, complete with a hooker getting her throat slashed! (Remember, this is family entertainment.)
· The most memorable sequence has to do with a boy who collects flies. From my memory, the flies turn on him and end up eating off his arm. (Once again, fun for the whole family!)

I said that I remembered this movie being truly horrible…even at a young age. The catch, of course, is that I also remember being very disconcerted by the aforementioned stories. This was rated PG-13, but at various points it felt like it was damn near an R. Yet, it was innocuously slapped on video with smiling children on the cover.

Look, this has never become a Holy Grail film for me. I haven’t searched high and low to find it. In fact, I have passed up two or three chances to own the movie on ratty old VHS tapes. I figured that if I bought one of those my chance to revisit the movie with a pristine image would be sacrificed.

I waited.

Then, recently, the movie found me again the muck of the “Big K” discount bin. I had no idea that it had gotten a legit DVD release. I had no clue that I could purchase it for a mere $1.99.

(By the way; if you want to feel deeply depressed about yourself and humanity…take a trip to your local Big K. Or, better yet, don’t…)

That has all happened, and now The Willies is waiting to have the cellophane torn off.

It’s time to go back, friends. Back to the days of hooker throat slashing and killer flies…

Part Two: The Verdict Is In (And What is It?)

The Willies is just as painstakingly miserable as I remember it being.

Even more importantly, it is way nastier and mean spirited than even I had recollected.

The first beast to tackle, however, is the bizarre disconnect between what I remember and what I don’t.

Such as:

· There is an entire story about a child-eating monster in a public school restroom that I totally forgot. This one has a surprisingly bloody pay off…how many kids’ films feature a teacher being sucked into a vent system and seeing her blood spat out? The movie goes even further beyond that as the school nerd locks his bullies in with the stop motion creature. Guess what happens to them? (Children in extinguishment and peril…once again, just good clean fun.)
· I had forgotten the complete details of what will be dubbed “The Gordy Belcher Saga.” Gordy Belcher (played by the “fat kid from Salute Your Shorts” Michael Bowen) is not just a simple fly collector. He has decided to cohabitate with them, creating a bizarre little “fly town” in his parents’ basement. (This comes complete with a “fly church” in which a fly is crucified just like Jesus.) I also forgot about Gordy’s dynamic with an older farmer who has found a while to mutate vegetables to epic sizes. (This is a bit of a nod to similar comic motif in Woody Allen’s Sleeper.) The farmer is the one who provides Gordy with the solution to grow giant flies. That is why his arms are eaten off at the end of the tale. You even get a lovely parting shot of him attempting to scratch himself with his Rolling Thunder style hook. Isn’t that fun, kids?

I mentioned that this movie feels jarringly mean spirited. That is because there is not much of a “light touch.” The best example of this comes in the stories that the kids tell each other before the opening credits roll.

The poodle is indeed exploded in the microwave by an old lady. Everything about the way the scene is constructed says: “Isn’t this a riot?” The problem is that the laugh never shows up, and almost collapses under the strain. The poodle explodes, and it is just undeniably tragic. The counter balance to this scene would be the pie-eating contest in Stand by Me. That had a healthy ironic distance that allowed the audience to be in on the joke. The tragedy in The Willies feels a bit too “real.”

That is equally (if not even more so) true of the sequence I previously mentioned where the old man is in the haunted house. The old guy doesn’t make it; and his death is used as a punch line. I would feel differently if the old guy had somehow “deserved” what he had coming to him. The thing is that he is played as a likable old duffer that is traumatized by his journey. What’s so funny about a defenseless old man having a heart attack and croaking?

There is also nothing particular “scary” about these two sequences. Was the intention to make kids laugh, gross them out, or scare them horribly? I can’t honesty tell…does anyone know?

The strangest thing about this movie is that there isn’t one clear decision made about its direction. The “Gordy Belcher” extended sequence is a particular violator of this confusion. Gordy could very easily be made into a sympathetic “outsider” character. He is instead just as deplorable as everyone else that surrounds him. (His parents are particularly horrid as they sit around the dinner table and verbally abuse Gordy.) By the time his fate has arrived, there is no real reason to feel anything about it. The irony is not there, nor is any palpable pathos. The kid gets his limbs eaten off, and that is the end of that. (Did the people who make this film viciously hate children?)

Look, the movie does succeed on the “grosser than gross” level. (The kids even tell “grosser than gross” jokes around the fire.) There is not much beyond that, though, other than things that still make me feel a tad uncomfortable as a grown up.

I know that this is still an innately bad little movie…. there’s no denying that. Still, I have multiple questions as to what the filmmakers were aiming for. Were there not test screenings that revealed that children are terrified by severed limbs? Did the studio ever receive irate phone calls from parents about the throat slashing? How was this thing even marketed? Or did it just show up at my local video to disconcert me?

Who the hell was the audience supposed to be for this? I can tell you one at least one personal observation for certain. I’m not a parent myself, but I can hypothetically imagine myself as one. I can imagine my child pulled this movie off the shelf, looked up at me with gleaming eyes, and saying: “Daddy, may we please rent this?” I would answer with a resounding: “Hell no, you little shit! Put that fucking thing back!” (That’s, after all, exactly how I would speak to my children…if I had some.)

The Willies is not a movie I would recommend to any rational person. (There are plenty of irrational people I would recommend this, too. That is entirely beside the point, though). The only reason I watched it again was to see if it lived up to my memory. Was this movie as wronged headed as I thought it was?

I would have to give you a wholehearted yes.

This entry gave me a case of “The Willies.”

The Playground Gets Ponderous: The End of the Weird?

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 17 Apr 2015 14:58:00 +0000

In Search of the “Weird”

I’ve often bemoaned about how I got hooked on the “strange” side of the cinematic street when I was just a babe.

The obvious consequence is that I didn’t see much of the classics, spent time and money chasing after “holy grails,” and landed in my thirties without tasting the “good stuff.” I wanted “strange,” “bizarre,” ‘disconcerting,” and whatever adjective you blurt out. There was at least one thing I never contemplated: What happens when you get worn out? What happens when “the strangest movie you will ever see” doesn’t cut it?

I didn’t stop to contemplate that until recently. The last couple of days or so, in fact, when I finally polished off Timothy Carey’s The World’s Greatest Sinner. The watching of this movie had been one of my dire cinematic needs for years. The occasion had finally arrived to (legally, of course) to watch this film.

What happened? I felt absolutely nothing; but I’m not going to get there quite yet.

Here’s a bit of a template for this entry:

· We are first going to take a stop in “Tiny Town.” (Those of us familiar with “bad movie” legends will know what I am talking about. If you don’t, stick around and all will be revealed.)
· We will get to my nagging problems with Mr. Carey’s magnum opus.
· I will tie everything up with a common thread.

What? That doesn’t sound thrilling enough for you. Nuts to you, then!

The Train to “Tiny Town” Only Leads One Way

The Terror of Tiny Town (1938) is a legendary film in its own right. I would say that it is so legendary that many more movie geeks have heard of it than actually witnessed the oater.

For the uninitiated: This is a B-movie western that features an entire cast of little people in standard roles. You have The Hero, the Girl, and the Townspeople all accounted for but with a basic size difference. I am treading on dangerous ground, but the only “surreal” quality this movie has is its “all midget cast.” (I use the quotation marks because that is what the movie calls its cast members. That is the gimmick that is a bit left over from the days of the sideshows).

I can’t even remember how or why I heard of this movie…but of course my interest would be peaked. The movie was largely unavailable until falling into the public domain in the past few years. (You can go to Youtube find it right away. You are probably doing that right now. Goodbye).

I finally had the opportunity to watch it recently. What did I discover?

It’s excruciatingly boring. I mean deeply, painfully dull in the sense that the hour running time feels like it is about twice that. (I kept taking breaks for coffee and frozen pancakes).

This is nothing remotely “strange” about the film, other than the aforementioned little people. That’s the thing, though, quantifying the actors as just being “little people” doesn’t do them justice. The movie reveals a boatload of capable, talented performers that were most likely just happy to have the work. The lead little person, Billy Curtis, has a very distinctive screen presence and genuine talent. He went on to work with both Alfred Hitchcock and Clint Eastwood. (Remember the little guy from High Plains Drifter?)

What about the “weird” factor? I didn’t see it as being there so much. The shock of the new wears off in about a minute and a half; what is left after that is a relatively average movie. There is nothing distinctive about the script or the direction. I can at least give it points for using differently bodied actors and not being (too) exploitative. I just can’t call it all that satisfyingly trippy.

This is my first case of failing to find “the weird.”

Is It Strange Or Does it Just Suck?

I had heard of The World’s Greatest Sinner long before I ever had a chance to see it. This was another case of the shadow of “the weird” being cast over a relatively obscure movie. Remember the old trick a lot of gas stations/souvenir shops use? “Five more miles until THE BLACK HOLE…etc.” You can very easily drive by and then end up wondering: “What the hell was THE BLACK HOLE?”

I had seen one solitary film clip with Timothy Carey doing a weird dance backed by a cheap garage band. This would be a perfect Youtube highlight clip, but this was the days before the existence of such a site. This was enough to hook my interest and fire up the needed synapses for a memory.

I knew that Frank Zappa scored the flick; which doesn’t do much for me because I’m not a fan. (Let the hate mail hit the fan. I tried, and I just can’t do it.) I didn’t know who Timothy Carey was, but time took care of that.

I will include a bit for the uninitiated (as I did for “Tiny Town.”) Timothy Carey was perhaps one of the oddest and most distinctive talents that ever graced the screen. I would hesitate to call what he did “acting.” This was more a case of channeling a deep eccentricity and making it case specific. Remember the maniac from Stanley Kubrick’s The Killing who has to shoot the horse?

That was Timothy Carey, and he was making The World’s Greatest Sinner in between acting gigs.

The internet strange-o who posted the video I watched all those years ago was not the film’s only fan. John Cassavetes somehow saw this movie and ended up casting Carey in all of his later films. Martin Scorsese has said it is “one of the best Rock and Roll movies ever made.” (Really, what does that even mean, Marty?) I even had a Facebook friend who said this was the “weirdest movie” he had even seen in his life.

This movie has an established and rabid cult, and I am about to enrage them.

There are two central things that The World’s Greatest Sinner really has going for it.

· Timothy Carey’s premise is a very intriguing one. A common insurance salesman attempts to start his own religion in which man is supreme. He drops his given name of Clarence and starts going by “God.” His medium for reaching the kids becomes the holy world of Rock and Roll. (Hence the strange dance that I spoke of at the top of this piece). All the while, the Devil is tracking his progress and waiting to snatch his soul. (At least, I believe that is what happens anyway). Carey’s point seems to be that no man can ever believe himself to be a deity. That sort of egotism leads to both interpersonal chaos and the crumbling of any establishment that is established. (That’s not a bad sentence, kids. That’s word play!) This is actually a very classical structured idea.
· The Carey performance is completely uninhibited and “crazy.” As Carey’s character continually buys into his power, he grows increasingly unhinged. There is nothing the man won’t do in front of a camera…and that at least pays some dividends. (I would especially point to his make out scene with a woman who has to be at least eighty. She has agreed to be his first follower, and weirdness follows.)

Okay, I talked about what I liked. So what’s the problem?

It’s excruciatingly boring. We are talking about something that is just a little over seventy minutes long. Every one of those minutes feels like a slow poke in the eye.

Timothy Carey’s performance, inherent strangeness, and smart satirical sense are at the service of a bad film. The “weird” is sacrificed to some truly inept filmmaking. The other actors have no sense of how to play off Carey. The dialogue is painfully on the nose (and would fit in well with a typical high school play). The editing is clunky and scenes never begin or end.

Perhaps the tackiest offence is the lighting. I know that sounds like a minor complaint. However, it becomes a serious concern when you can’t see anything that is going on.

This is both a home movie and a vanity project.

Carey might have gotten a crack acting reel from the experience. Did he really push any cinematic envelopes? Sadly, not from my perspective. I just see a half-baked, mediocre end product that has curiosity value.

Look, I am Wiling to Play Devil’s Advocate with Myself Here

I had a moment during my long slog through “Tiny Town” when I really started to question myself.

Maybe this is the “weirdest movie” ever made, but I just can’t see it. I have spent hours of my life subjecting myself to garbage. I can’t recognize that elusive “weird” anymore. “Weird” has become my “normal,” and there’s no going back.

But that can’t be, can it?

That, my friends, is a rhetorical question that is meant to keep you hanging. That is what happens when I can’t come up with a more conclusive final thought.

Interview: Kelly Hughes from Heart Attack! Theater

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Thu, 09 Apr 2015 14:45:00 +0000

Oh, the golden days of Public Access Television….

For the kids in the audience, Public Access provided a forum (before Youtube) for people who wanted to use video to express unique artistic sensibilities. Anyone could put together a show and have it broadcast problem free.

One of those people was Kelly Hughes, a Seattle based filmmaker who was inspired by John Waters, David Lynch, and a new thing called VHS.

Kelly provided me with a screener of his documentary Heart Attack! The Early Pulse Pounding Cinema of Kelly Hughes. This work details both his process (through interviews with his regular actors) and provides a juicy sampling of Heart Attack! related films.

The documentary succeeds on all fronts; the interviews are candid without being overly sentimental. And then there are the movies themselves. The most disarming aspect of what Kelly shares in his video clips is the personal vision. A woman can give birth to a plushy stuffed snake and the actors sell the reality of it. (This is far less cheesy than it sounds). Kelly also manages to be inspired by David Lynch, but provides a genuine sincerity that Lynch sometimes misses. This is not just: “Weird for the sake of Weird.”

Kelly has also been kind enough to answer a few questions for us (interview below).

1. Let’s start at the very beginning. What were some of your most influential film experiences? What provided you with the “a-ha” moment to start making your own films?

As a child, it was Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Which was basically an LSD experience for children. And I’m not talking about the Johnny Depp remake. Although Depp and I were born in the same year. The year JFK was shot.

When I was 19, I saw John Waters’ Female Trouble. And it scarred me. But then it inspired me.

Pedro Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown was a big influence. And I also really like his earlier movie Labyrinth of Passion.

Waters and Almodovar probably seem tame to today’s generation. But back then, they seemed a bit sleazy and dangerous. But in a safe Disney sort of way.

As for horror movies, I used to be a real lightweight. Even at 11 or 12, I was too afraid to watch original episodes of Twilight Zone. And when I saw Jaws in the theater when it first came out in 1975, I spent most of the time hiding behind my box of popcorn.

But I started toughening up after seeing movies like Dawn of the Dead (the original), Lamberto Bava’s Demons, and the original Nightmare on Elm Street. (And isn’t it something I have to keep specifying whether I’m talking about the original. I can’t believe how many movies have been remade in the past ten years or so.)

Evil Dead(original, of course) was probably the most inspirational because it had so much ingenuity. And showed what you could do on a very low budget. And because it had humor, but not at the expense of the horror.

I also have a soft spot for Child’s Play. For all of the Chuckie movies. And for possessed doll movies in general.

My big “aha” moment was when I realized I could pick up a home video camera and just start shooting movies on video. No film to buy or develop. You could just have that instant gratification. And start experimenting. So this would have been the late 1980s when I shot my first videos. You couldn’t do any decent editing, of course. But that wasn’t a concern. At the time, it just seemed magical to record something on video.

2. How did you initially find your cast of regulars for “Heart Attack Theatre?”

Heart Attack Theatredebuted in May of 1991. And before that, I had made a handful of videos. Including an experimental short called Reverberations. And then a feature called Trish Must Kill. They both starred my friend Cathy. And it was just assumed she would be part of Heart Attack Theatre. But when I went into production, she was in another state going to law school.

So I put a notice in the Auditions section of our local paper. And the day it came out, when I came home from work, I had over 80 messages on my answering machine.

So I called everyone back, and set up auditions in my apartment. They probably all thought I was some pervert. But I took it seriously. And tried to act as professionally as possible. And hide all my dirty clothes before they came over.

I also got a post office box where actors could send me resumes and headshots. And this talent agency that specialized in children kept sending me headshots of all these kids. And I thought, Did they even read the casting notice? The parents of these children would flip if they knew some of our storylines.

And there was another agency that sent me headshots. And all of their “actresses” looked the same. Bleached blonds in bikinis and high heels. Some of them posing on hoods of sports cars. So I assumed the agency was a front for a prostitution ring. Although I would have felt much more comfortable casting these Heather Locklear wannabes than the children. But they were represented by an agency. So I assumed they wanted to be paid. So I never called them in for an interview. I can only hope one or two of them ended up in a Whitesnake video.

By summer, Cathy was back in Seattle on break from school. So I started putting her in episodes almost immediately. And she pretty much worked on the show for the rest of the summer until she had to go back to school.

And one of the actresses in my documentary, Betty Marshall, was discovered through one of these open casting calls. We’ve known and worked with each other for almost 25 years now. So when I find someone I like, I do tend to work with them, basically, for life. Loyalty is everything to me.

3. What was the importance of having Public Access to show your films on?

It was all-important. We had no YouTube back then. The World Wide Web was just starting out that year. Indie film festivals were few and far between. So unless you put your low budget video out on a homemade VHS home video, and advertised it in the back of an indie film magazine (or maybe a ‘zine?), there weren’t too many options.

4. And did this help you achieve a wider audience than other means?

My show was only shown within the Seattle area. But to me, it was a big deal. I was on cable TV! Local, yes. But it felt somewhat prestigious to have a series on TV.

It was all non-profit. I didn’t make any money from it. But having a weekly show forced me to discipline myself. Without the Public Access deadline, there’s no way I would have cranked out so many shows. I made 33 episodes total. And during the first five month, I made a new episode every week. And I only achieved that because I was afraid if I didn’t turn in a new show every week that the Public Access station would cancel my show. And that was not an option.

5. What was your day job during the “Heart Attack Theater” days?

I did office work at a law firm. Answered phones. And on my lunch breaks wrote scripts.

One time we shot an episode of Heart Attack Theatre in front of the office building where I worked downtown. It was a Saturday. And there was this waterfall and fountain installation. And one of my actresses was in the fountain. And she emerges. I guess she was supposed to be a ghost. And she was drenched. And grabbing at another character sitting at the fountain. And during one of the takes, one of the lawyers who worked in my office walked by and saw us. But he just seemed amused. He didn’t snitch on us. Or call security. Deep down, I’m sure he was jealous. And wished that he was making movies rather than practicing environmental law.

6. I think from what I have seen, the answer is “No.” But; Was there ever any kind of content restriction on the channel? Or could you just go for it?

There was no censorship from the station. And since it was non-commercial, there was no censorship from sponsors.

Trouble came from the public. If someone watched your show, and thought it was obscene, they could complain to the station. But that didn’t necessarily mean they would remove your show off. It was a gray area.

But some viewers contacted their politicians. And that’s when it got interesting. At one point, one of our state senators was on a rampage, trying to censor public access. My program wasn’t singled out. Although it could have. I had some nudity on my show. But I think I was protected because it was in the context of a dramatic show.

But I was nervous about what I showed at first. It was a big deal when I had people use profanity. And a big deal the first time an actor bared his butt. But after that, I relaxed. And reminded myself that Showtime and HBO showed stuff like that.

I think the lower the budget, the sleazier the content looks. You could see the exact same thing in a Hollywood movie, and no one would give it a second thought. But on my show, the near-VHS quality of the footage made everything look like a snuff film. And caused people to scrutinize it more.

And you have to remember, half the shows on this channel were religious programming. So when the televangelism viewers accidentally watched my show, the contrast must have put them over the edge.

You can learn more about the censorship issue in an upcoming documentary I’ll be appearing in. It’s called Channeling Yourself. It’s all about the unique shows on Public Access TV in Seattle in the 90’s and early 2000s. And my show was just the tip of the iceberg. There were other shows that reallypushed the boundaries. And in this documentary you’ll be able to see interviews with these people. And clips from their shows. I’m really looking forward to seeing it all when it’s finished.

7. What was the technical aspect of your shoots? What sort of camera did you use? How did you edit?

I shot on a Panasonic Super VHS camera. It was considered “prosumer” back then. But pretty primitive by today’s standards.

I edited on a separate Panasonic deck. Using my camera as the playback deck. Putting a lot of extra wear on it. But the two innovations that made all this work were the sync cable between the camera and deck, and the flying erase head. Especially the flying erase head. Because it let you edit footage without jarring glitches.

This was still all analog. No digital editing here. No computers involved. Just re-recording one clip after another on your final tape. No transitions. No fancy titling. And once you made an edit, you had to commit to it. There really wasn’t a way to go back and change things once you had made that editing decision. And it was very time consuming rewinding and fast-forwarding through your tapes to find the footage.

8. You wrote a new script every single week. What is your process as a screenwriter?

Once I had a stable of regular actors on Heart Attack Theatre, I wrote characters especially for them. Which I enjoy doing. There’s something great about seeing that actor, and hearing their voice in your mind while you write.

And with the character in place, you think of a fun situation to throw them into. And then you start writing the script.

I always considered the logistics. If you only have one or two days to shoot an episode, you can’t waste time driving to a dozen different locations. So I would decide on the location before I came up with the story. And half the time it would be in my apartment.

But I do enjoy location shoots. So if we had the time and energy, I would write something that could give us some interesting production value in a different location. Maybe a public park. Or the home of one of the actors. Just something other than my living room or kitchen.

9. How did you approach the material without irony?

From the start, I wanted my actors to take their roles seriously. Even though I enjoy camp, and outrageous situations, I never wanted my actors to do anything tongue-in-cheek. I never wanted them to act as if they were superior to the material. I wanted them to be in the moment.

That being said, many of my storylines were over-the-top. And that’s what motivated certain acting choices. But I didn’t want my actors to be hysterical just for the sake of creating drama. I wanted intensity. But not campiness. I’m sure we crossed the line occasionally. But personally, I don’t like to see actors who act superior to the material.

It’s like when you see a low budget movie, and the actor gives a performance that seems to be saying, “I know I’m in shit, but I’m so clever, I’ll let you know with every line reading that I know I’m in shit. But I’m so clever for letting you know. Don’t you just love me?” I hate shit like that.

When in doubt, have your actors play it straight. Keep the focus razor sharp. Give them peaks and valleys. And in each episode, give them a cathartic release. Give them a climax. Shock the viewer out of their complacency. But still do it somewhat tastefully.

10. Do you have a personal favorite from all of your films? If so, why?

I go back and forth. I love the episode Sisters because I think I pulled off the technical challenge of having one actress play twin sisters in scenes with each other. And because one of the sisters was a psychic nun.

I like my episode Miserablya lot. And even won a screenwriting award for it. I thought I did a good job building tension with a husband and wife arguing. Leading to the wife’s accidental fall. And the claustrophobic tension that follows.

And from my movie La Cage aux Zombies, I love the nightclub scene. For that, I wrote a performance art piece for the drag queen to perform. Which was inspired by Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. The interrogation scene where she crosses and uncrosses her legs. The piece I wrote is almost Beat Poetry. And I also composed and played the music in the background for it.

In my art film Twin Cheeks, I loved when we shot on location up in the mountains. And enjoyed all the revealing conversations with my actors on the drives there and back.

So as much as I love the TV shows and film work, these are also home movies to me, reminding me of the people I worked with, and the adventures we had.

11. What was the inspiration to want to go back and make a documentary about your early days as a movie maker?

It was when I started digitizing old episodes of Heart Attack Theatre to post on YouTube. I think that was around 2008 or 2009. And that got me to start watching YouTube a lot more. To get caught up with the whole YouTube revolution.

And I was really amazed at some of the original programming on there. A lot of young people producing their own shows. And a lot of them were really good.

So it made me realize that the new generation takes a lot of this for granted. That you can make your own show, upload it to YouTube, and have the potential for a lot of people to watch it. And this was unthinkable when I was making Heart Attack Theatre.

So I wanted to make this documentary as a reminder of the pre-YouTube era. Which really wasn’t that long ago. To show what we did with analog equipment. And to be a time capsule for a certain place and time.

This was Seattle in 1991. This was the era of Grunge Rock. When the whole world took notice of the Pacific Northwest. And I wasn’t famous like Nirvana. I didn’t have a show like David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. But in some ways I was a Grunge artist. Being born and raised in Seattle, I experienced some of the same influences that inspired this breakout of artistic expression back then. But I wasn’t a media darling. I was largely ignored in my hometown. So now, I want to create a time capsule. To show what one filmmaker quietly created in his apartment while seemingly everyone else in town was being celebrated as the next big thing.

12. How do you reflect on your work now?

I’m proud of it.

I see all the flaws and technical shortcomings, of course. But I also appreciate how I built my scenes. And I still enjoy the performances. Enjoy the story ideas we tried. It was an incubator of creativity. And we took full advantage of it.

What I like most is the full conviction we all had. And I hope they know it, but I’ve always been thrilled and grateful to my actors for throwing themselves into their roles, and doing all the crazy things I asked them to. Back then, I was just so happy when everyone actually showed up for the shoot. And that they stayed till the end.

What I especially reflect on is how tame this old work looks. Back then, I was so nervous about some of the subject matter. About the sex, violence, and profanity. But now, I have seriously seen more adult subject matter on the ABC Family channel. And everywhere else. There is so much shock value on TV and films and in the entire media now. Which makes it almost impossible to shock people anymore.

But there will always be new and interesting characters you can create. And unique actors to bring them to life. So I remind myself that the characters matter most. And I hope I’ve created a few good ones. And that we can craft suspenseful stories without totally relying on shock value. I mean, sneak it in wherever you can: blood, gore, a hammer to the kneecap. But make sure your audience cares about the person attached to the kneecap before you crush it.

13. What are your plans for the documentary?

I’m thrilled that it has already screened at five film festivals (including two in London. The English just seem to get me.) I will appear with Heart Attack! for a Q&A at Crypticon Seattle in May. And then at a screening at the California Institute of AbnormalArts in June. And I just signed with a distributor. And we’re adding some new interview footage of me to the documentary. And that expanded version will be out on DVD and in streaming outlets this year.

14. This is the “Kelly Hughes: Where is he now?” question. What are you currently working on?

I’ve been working on a memoir. Reminiscing not only about the Heart Attack Theatre days, but also the stage work I did during that time (including writing and staging two musicals), plus other creative projects and adventures with some of my regular actors.

I’ve also written a feature screenplay. A horror thriller called Lazy Susan. And have three Hollywood actors attached. Which means it will have to be a SAG union production. Which is a big leap for a one-man show like me. So I should probably start looking for a cinematographer. And do a crowd fund. Or whatever it is those young people do to raise money nowadays.

Rent or Buy a Copy of the Heart Attack! Documentary here!

Movies I Actually Enjoy: Diving Into "Anger" (Part One?)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 03 Apr 2015 16:01:00 +0000

A Few Questions Rattling Around in the Old Noggin

I am embarking on the journey of writing about one of the great and most indecipherable mad men in the annals of cinema. That would be the enigma that is known as Kenneth Anger.

This is an arduous task, but here are a few questions to guide me through.

· What is “narrative?” Where is the blurry line between story and connected abstract images?
· What is happening on screen at the moment and what is going on beneath it?
· When does a film exist out of the buffer of its time?
· What can even comfortably be called a “movie?” (This is especially true in an era when everyone is a filmmaker…but also applies to a so-called “underground” auteur.)

These are questions that I don’t have the answer for, but it’s not bad to have guideposts to nod my head at. (That sentence sounded better in my head.)

Now on to Kenneth Anger…

“A Film by Anger”

This is the first title (in dark black and angry yellow) in frame one of Kenneth Anger’s Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954).

I know precious little about who Kenneth Anger actually was. Sure, there are the absolute basics; one of the original (and true) underground filmmakers, openly gay at a time that was dangerous, a believer in alchemy and dark magic, and (perhaps) an influence on many household names. (The two I would like to point out in this piece are specifically Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch. I will make it clear at the get go that this is purely through my own conjecture. I have no actual proof of what two “great” men thought about one “obscure” one’s movies).

You can draw connections (flimsy ones) to the various biographical details that I listed above about Anger. Sometimes I love to play “film school psychologist” and try to examine a certain filmmaker’s works in that way.

I don’t that with Anger to any extent at all. Why?

These are slightly “reaching” reasons, but here goes:

· Anger’s movies exist in a space that is entirely their own. I would go as far as to say they exist outside of culture, history, and even filmic common sense. (I would point you to the questions at the first part of this entry).
· Okay, if that is true…then what exactly do with have on our hands with “A Film by Anger.” That’s a slippery slope, but here is what I personally think I am looking at. One part silent film, one part bad dream, and one part recycling of the darker part of human fantasies. (I would also add a dash of commentary on our collective mythology…or at least our own perceptions of it. This is part of what I am so compelled by Anger’s most ambitious film Lucifer Rising. What else is there to make about a movie that includes both Egyptian Pharaohs and UFOs?)
· I said the Anger movies exist outside of “history,” but more specifically they exist outside of concrete time. I can’t locate them in any one place in time, even by looking at the dates they came out in. (The one exception to this is Anger’s Scorpio Rising…the style of the bikers in that movie has dated. I have decided not to tackle that movie in this series of reviews). Because they are truly timeless, I can only imagine that people watching them fifty years from now will be as affected by them as I have in the last five or six.)

I have frontloaded this entry with praise, so maybe I should move onto to more criticism.

Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954)

Using my questions at the top as a loose template:

· I have no idea what the actual “story” of Pleasure Dome is. We are not going to concern ourselves with that at all. I am much more interested in tracking a few isolated images (especially the one at the front end).
· That said, the most discernable character in the movie is a somewhat aged looking man who wakes up at the beginning. I am interested in him, but mostly his situation is what fascinates me. He is dressed (as far as I can tell) as some kind of royalty, and he has the strange ability to eat jewelry whole. I promised you a Stanley Kubrick allusion, and this is it. I am suspiciously reminded of the older version of Dr. Dave Bowman in 2001. There are moderate differences, of course, the principal one being that we don’t encounter Anger’s “Old Man” at the end of an astral tunnel. In this case, evolution works in the exact opposite from Kubrick. The film de-evolves into a wild assortment of somewhat threatening, mythological characters. There are too many to list, and they are all the “coming attractions” for the “main event.”
· What is that? That would be the character known as the Scarlet Woman (played by artist Marjorie Cameron). How the hell do I even describe this? She is essentially a woman in red, with a love struck expression, whose head in enclosed in a very fancy birdcage. She is completely isolated (away from the circus we have just witnessed). We don’t know who she is looking at so alluringly, but we might as well presume it is us (the audience). Are you ready for “great filmmaker allusion two?” I see The Scarlet Woman as the direct ancestor of David Lynch’s Lady in the Radiator from Eraserhead. She is secluded until we are filtered through the “reality” of the rest of the Pleasure Dome. Just as the Lady is, she is trapped (caged) in the state of unrequited love.
· As I said before, at barely twenty movies this hardly clocks in as a “movie.” In modern times, this kind of work has been incorporated into installation pieces. Would this be better off hanging on the wall as a piece of art? Another question I have: How exactly do I interact with this as a viewer? What are the pieces that I can subconsciously put together safely? This is not so much of a movie as it is, to me, a filmed nightmare. (Yes, I do find this frightening…)

That was stop number one on this particular voyage. Where is the train going next?

Lucifer Rising (1972-80)

Kids, I just pulled a bit of a fast one by looking at the plot synopsis for this flick on IMDB. (This is the “What Is This Really About” factor again). Some unknown scribe has informed me that this movie is about: “Egyptian gods invoking the angel Lucifer to usher in a new Occult Age.”

Okay, then…

This is Anger’s most ambitious canvas, and he fills it up with…well, what exactly?

I am doing a neat trick right now by propping my Ipad up on my desk as I watch this.

The images are here again: Volcanoes Erupting, Pharaohs, Marianne Faithful as some kind of Goddess…and the final sequence in which a UFO flies over the Pyramids. (I should say that this is Marianne in her “Sister Morphine” days; the most attractive heroin addict you will ever see.)

This is another relatively brief film, but one that moves at the very deliberate pace of a snail. I might not understand everything, but there is no single frame that I can avoid seeing. (Translation; I never succumb to boredom and pick up the Iphone).

We are also in the realm of something that is clearly not a “movie.” Such contrivances as dialogue, context, or even an attempt an explanation do not distract from the power of the pictures.

Does it still have some kind of cumulative affect? I can’t deny that it does for a moment that it doesn’t. Every time I sat down to watch Lucifer Rising I have felt mysteriously “clear.” This is moving image as ceremony, with the viewer complicit in the final result.

As I write this, I do see a bit of a sideline emerging on “film and ceremony.” (This is at least one book I have seen on this, so it is not a new idea by any means. That said, I still haven’t read the book myself so it is original for me). At their absolute best, I do genuinely believe that movies can be ceremonial experiences. The ones that go deeper than the usual 24 Frames Per Second and $10 per ticket.

I feel like trying to articulate anymore would be taking away from the quality of the experience.

Rabbit’s Moon (1950)

(An aside: there are various versions of Rabbit’s Moon floating around in the ether. Apparently, Kenneth Anger was known for tweaking his movies fanatically. The one I particularly like is from 1971, is fifteen minutes long, and features a bevy of vintage ‘50s pop songs).

Rabbit’s Moonvaries from the two above “Films by Anger” in notable ways:

· This is the one that I indentify as my “favorite.” That suspiciously has to do with the fact that it resembles films that I have tried to make on my own. My own movies haven’t come out as well, but I love the bizarre “fragmented fairy tale” that this one has.
· I mentioned that this is a “fairy tale,” and by that definition we are dealing with elements that are far outside the “Anger” realm. This does have a narrative, and can (for the most part) feel like an abbreviated movie. There are stock characters, tragic consequences, and unanticipated discoveries. We have a Harlequin, a “Moon Girl,” and the Devil that takes the girl away from our hero. Okay, that is a story with a rise and fall.
· Is that all that is really going on? No, not completely. There is at least one aspect about this effort that I haven’t addressed. Anger never finished it to his full satisfaction, and that give the movie an “unfinished” feel. That means I need to move beyond the narrative, and take a hard look at what is on the screen. What is here in the room as I watch this?
· Since we are deviating from the story, here is what I am looking at. Rabbit’s Moon is shot on what is very obviously a meticulously decorated sound stage. The intention was to create a magical, fairy tale forest and have the audience accept it as “real.” This gradually does happen, because our attentions to the actions of the cast breathe life into it. What is “real,” anyway?
· Another difference; this movie is shot is ostensibly in black and white, but also has a subtle blue glow. I don’t know what happened in post to create this look, or even how intentional it was. The faces on the actors (who wear heavy pancake make up) really pop, and you can track every facial expression made. This is a silent film, and thus we have silent film acting. The thing that I would like to express is that this is quality “silent film acting.” Take a look at some of the early silent movies sometime (the ones that are relegated to “classic.”) You will see more “mugging” and overly expressive gestures than you do in a shitty high school play.
· More than anything, this is the “Film by Anger” that stays with me. I can close my eyes and see very distinctly the Moon Girl, the Clown, and the Harlequin. I don’t need big emotional cues like certain songs or film clips. (Although Anger’s choice of fifties pop is oddly appropriate and indelible). Every since I saw this movie the first time about five years ago, it has carved a nice little niche inside my memory. How many movies can you say that about?

Movies Out of Time (Again)

The sad reality is that Kenneth Anger never got to make a feature film. (He claimed he had no interest in doing that, but I cry “Bullshit!” I would have loved to have seen a full “Film by Anger,” even it if was total train wreck). His work was seen, but I don’t how well received he was in his own time. The movies haven’t dated; but perhaps the medium they are delivered in has changed. Every one of the pieces I have written about are available (for the time being) on Youtube. In a strange way, despite their age, they seem right at home on that flotsam and jetsam site. They are specifically designed to grab your attention, hold it, and then spit your psyche out on the other side. (I can’t say the same thing for “David at the Dentist.”)

I feel excited for the fact that someone unsuspecting Youtuber might stubble on these things and have a head explosion. (A gentle one, of course…)

That means the time to start watching and learning from these things is now. Via the simultaneously beautiful and ugly World Wide Web, to which we are all enslaved.

My First Dive Into “Anger”

More knowledgeable readers will notice certain things missing. I didn’t even tackle Anger’s (perhaps) most known work Scorpio Rising. I didn’t touch his “deeply researched” book of scandal called Hollywood Babylon. Or what about the bizarre “WTF” that is his short Puce Moment?

That, dear readers (all one of you…hey Roger), means that there is room for a second installment.

Even more “Anger,” and why not?

Why Remember Anything?: The Great IMDB Top 250 Debacle.

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 20 Mar 2015 16:20:00 +0000

Stating the Subtext Up Front (Or a Refreshing Break with Convention)

Today I would like to dwell on a particular subject matter that will attract readers to a film blog in droves. What could that possibly be? Death!

No, I’m not taking about “amusing kills” in the form of a hatchet to the forehead.

Perhaps using the word “Death:” is a bit too attention grabby. Should we settle on the more highfalutin term “Mortality?” Did I just hear a mass exodus in the form of a sea of mouse clicks? What’s wrong with talking about how much precious time we have on dear old Spaceship Earth? Why is it such a taboo to openly acknowledge the fact that we all waste our hours on trivial crap?

How about climbing up on top of a mountain and screaming: “What’s it all about?”

Why not dig Peggy Lee up and have her sing a rousing chorus of “Is That All There Is?’

That’s not going to keep you here?

Oh, all right…Disembowelment! Decapitation! Dismemberment by Hacksaw!

(Or as ee cummings so articulately put it: “Ashes and So Longs.”)

Would you like another subheading under “Mortality?” How about “regret?’

Oh, sorry…Chinese Water Torture, will that get you to stay?

The Story of How I Began Wasting Time in a Vain Attempt to Reclaim It (Or How The Great “IMDB Ratings Project” Began in Earnest)

This all had such an innocuous beginning that I almost hesitate to tell an audience about it. There’s the standard details: Everyone that uses the Internet Movie Database is no doubt familiar with the Top 250 list. The supposedly “best” and “highest user rated” films of all time that has a dual purpose as a deep shaming device.

Why exactly is that? There is a particular conundrum in my life when it comes to consuming film. I took a rebellious stance against the “good” when I was young. You could rant to me all day about the supposed excellence of any classic…doesn’t matter which one. I sat in film classes where Citizen Kane was served to us on a golden platter. (“You mean I sat through this entire film just to find out the dude was crying over a fucking sled?”) These so-called gems just didn’t hold the same panache as the forgotten Hammer horror flick on the tube at 2 a.m.

(This is a particularly important point that I will return to later as I continue to dig into my film watching mania.)

The “younger” me (or perhaps “little me”) came to believe that there was a conspiracy that existed. This was a “taste making as brainwashing” ploy that touched every aspect of what was supposed to be a well-rounded education.

There were other issues at play that yours truly couldn’t see at the time. What about life experience? There are certain stories that you are just not ready to understand as a scrawny eighteen year old. There are also the factors of film history or the crucial question of “influence.” I know enough now to recognize that something as fabulously odd as The Warriors is just a classic western in urban drag. This is a bit like the argument for why everyone should read Shakespeare. He created the formal confines of storytelling that every writer can learn from. (That is not to say that I understand Shakespeare all that well either.)

The real hook in this story appeared when I began to age. I found myself jobless, over thirty, and living with my parents. I have heard that hardened prisoners look at their time on the inside as a chance to reflect. Hospice patients (or anyone near death) will tell you the same exact thing about “shuffling off that mortal coil.” It’s time to take an unfortunate, hard look at your life.

How exactly did I spend my time on Earth? Did I truly live life to the hilt and accomplish everything I possibly could have?

There were choices I had made which lead me inevitably to my parents’ guesthouse. The life pursuit of a “career in creativity.” (Kids, listen to your uncle Dusty; chasing after film projects royally fucks up your resume. You constantly have to explain the gaps in your employment history and tell a potential employer why you don’t have practical skills. Trust me, people who can unplug a toilet get work over people who can have philosophical conversations.) The steadfast unwillingness to do something else…and frankly, the lack of acknowledgment that I would one day pass away.

We’re back to what I so cleverly attempted to cover in my introduction. My time on this planet is terrifyingly finite…

That said; there’s always a bit of time for a brief digression. Let’s talk about the happenstance and the mania that led to what I would jokingly refer to as “the ratings project.”

I began to study the Top 250, and give the movies I had seen a certain rating (between 1 to 10). Out of the 250 films listed, I had seen just a little over half of them. This begged the question: What the hell had I watched instead?

That began the epic search to determine just how many films I had watched in my lifetime that weren’t “the right ones.” I started to scale through every writer, director, and actors’ filmography that I could possibly think of at the moment. I would make a quick acknowledgement and then assign a title I recognized with a rating. (Side note: I find “rating films based on quality of one to ten” to be a frustratingly arbitrary experience. There are movies that only rate a 5 in quality that I would give a 10 based on enjoyment level. There are other movies, such as the aforementioned classics, that earn an IMDB scale of 9 that I would a 5 for because I found them boring).

My journey led me far, far away the mythical promised land of the IMDB Top 250.

The IMDB automatically starts to build a “list” based on the ratings you pile up. I watched my own personal list grow from a mere hundred to a few thousand. (The list currently rests comfortably at a little over 2500, but that is subject to change.) I began to do simple mathematic equations (“If each of these movies were two hours long, how many hours of my life did they totally kill?”) The ticking number on “my list” kept bursting through the ceiling, and I kept pushing it there.

What was so profoundly bothersome about this?

1. I already mentioned the proverbial hours I realized I had lost in my life. Those weren’t coming back.
2. Personal Choice: There was the little point of what exactly I had decided to watch. Would you care for an example? There was a crappy little ‘50s B-movie I found in a used record store when I was in grad school called Reform School Girl (1957). This was clearly an example of “Sleaze…’50s Style” and it was so entertaining that I watched it twice. Yes, so entertaining that I don’t remember a fucking thing about it. What did I get from watching it? Maybe a catfight? Maybe obscure ‘50s actresses dressed in risqué pajamas? Some pithy and unintentionally funny dialogue? I gave the thing (what I could remember of it) a modest rating of 6/10. Meanwhile, the legitimate classic Life is Beautiful sits on my list without any rating at all. That is right, I have never seen that. The Holocaust versus Primitive Women in Prison? Really, what would you choose?
3. The “Death Bed” Fantasy: As previously stated, I can’t get out of dying and that deeply concerns me. I have (at numerous times in my life) pictured myself lying on what might be my deathbed. What am I going to look back on with pride? Will I have a moment when I say: “I never saw Life is Beautiful?” I can tell you why I never saw it; every dumb college kid I knew at the time was swooning over it. This was one of my “Holden Caulfield” attacks of misanthropy.

What I Have Really Been Talking About

This is all a big front for what has been obsessing me lately; mortality.

Do you mind if I take another excursion into the shadowy realm of the autobiographical? (This one is going to be really heavy. You have my full permission to check all the way out now.)

Shortly after my move back to Mom and Dad, my nine-year-old husky Dakota started to show too many signs of wear and tear. She simply couldn’t get up, and that final heart-breaking trip to the vet had to be made.

However, the cruel Beast Known as Fate decided that wasn’t quite enough. Shortly after Dakota passed on, my poor Mother suffered a severe stroke. (Don’t worry too much about this. She’s had a remarkable recovery and would probably kill me if she knew about this entry. So…um, no one tell her, okay?) I had the sudden realization that my parents weren’t going to be here forever. This couldn’t be; they couldn’t already be at the part of their lives when serious health issues crop up. How old did this make me?

As the commercial announcer would say: “but wait…there’s even more.” I ended up finding out that an acquaintance of mine from college died from Stage IV Colon Cancer. Why was his death such a blow to me personally? (The tragedy was for his family and friends’, and it had nothing to do with me.) This guy was only a year or two older than I was. He was what could best be described as a contemporary of mine. That said, I couldn’t help but think of all the things I was doing now that my acquaintance could no longer enjoy.

(Including sitting around the house in my boxers with the remote, scratching myself and talking to the TV. You know, life’s simple pleasures.)

What was my real “take away?” Life is shockingly, scarily finite and everything second maters.

What does this mean for someone who has spent so much time watching movies? I started having paranoid fantasies of traveling back in time. I would burst into my college dorm room and yank the remote out of my younger self’s hand. “You have an eighteen year old brain and body and you’re sitting here watching Reform School Girl?”

The issue might not be watching the “right movies,” but spending so much time watching movies at all. Movies were just supposed to be simple entertainment, not the obsessive point that I have made them into. What about spending time outside? What about writing that novel I always wanted to finish? What about that trip to Ireland I always wanted to take?

What about the fact that I had missed half the IMDB Top 250?

The Bitter Addendum: Or Watching The Bicycle Thief

I woke up one Sunday morning in the middle of this bit of existentialism and found The Bicycle Thief on Netflix. The thing had been disappearing from my queue for over two years now. I, of course, knew all about it by reputation but had never seen the damn thing. To hold my thread for this piece; the movie is currently ranked at number 87 on the almighty list.

I understand that this is a piece of film history; you can Google “Italian Neo-Realism” for yourself.

I just found it to be an unbelievable endurance test. I want to clarify that I didn’t find it boring. No, I just found the character of the father absolutely insufferable. He treats both his son and his wife in a deplorable manner. (You almost get the sense that he resents having to make money to support them.)

Then there are the details of what happens in the story itself. He finally gets a job, and then his new bicycle gets stolen. The audience watches every heart breaking second as the “hero” and his son storm Rome looking for the bike.

I’m not going to reveal the final ironic twist, but I have no moral qualms about revealing my feelings about it. There is not one ray of hope on display in The Bicycle Thief. There is, however, about the same level of sadism that might occupy the latest Hostel installment. (There are no thumbscrews or nipple slashing, but I digress.)

In short, I didn’t find it to be the magical and transformational movie going experience I wanted. “Hey, I could have very easily died without having seen this movie…and that might have been all right.”

Instead, I kept thinking: “So this is The Bicycle Thief? This is really it?”

I had just spent another two hours of my life on a film, and it had fallen short. Where did this leave me in my crisis? How this helped me take charge of my own short, sweet time? What the hell is this thing called life about?

I didn’t have any answers, and the brutal story about a stolen bike hadn’t helped me at all.

In case you are wondering, I only gave the movie a rating of 7 out of 10. That niche for “number 87” on the list was filled up, and what of it?

Mortality, my friends. There is absolutely no sense to be made of it…our time here on Earth…the movies we watched…decisions we made. Christ, I can just about hear the violin strings swelling in the background.

And I have a feeling that I have completely lost my audience.

Would you like a more satisfactory “final thought?”

Okay, fine…

Tits and blood!

The Playground Gets Ponderous: David Holzman and Reality

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 06 Mar 2015 15:36:00 +0000

The Writer Isolates His Theme (Or This Bitch We Call “Reality.”)

Yes, this is a movie blog…but one with delusions of grandeur and heady philosophical matters on its mind. Before I get move on to any sort of movie talk, I would like to plant a seed in this introductory section. Take a deep breath, and get ready for the question that I am about to ask.

What is “reality?”

Look, I’m smart enough not to shoot myself in the foot by trying to answer that in any sort of concrete manner. I will just share my own struggle with what I perceive to be real. To be more specific, what I often completely ignore to be true in my own life. I have a wild imagination that has been fueled by too much pop cultural interference. What happens when the two of these things mix their deadly Maletov Cocktail?

I have a heard time accepting the way my life “really” is. On this site, I might live like a king and pretend that my opinion is the absolute gospel truth. Away from the world of the net, though, I am only an obscure writer living on marginal sums and student loans. I have absolutely no influence over what anyone does. If a reader of this site is at least moderately encouraged to check out Taxi Driver or Five Easy Pieces, that is a huge and undeniable victory. (One that I almost never privy to in “real life.”)

So why even have a blog? Hopefully, you paid careful attention to the paragraph above. The blog fuels my ever-present narcissism, and allows me to appear enormously interesting…to myself. (For those wondering, I am having a terrific time doing this. You might be struggling to read this at a snail’s pace…if you’re even still here.) This is a case of art (if you want to call it that) feeding ego and perhaps becoming a bit self-indulgent.

This is a transition to (finally…or not) talking about a film.

What The Hell is David Holzman’s Diary?

That is a most interesting question; allow me to educate you. (See? There’s the self-importance piece again because I know something that you don’t.)

David Holzman’s Diary is a blip on the radar of the all-encompassing Film History. This is a truly early, underground American film made for the bare minimum amount of cash. The movie utilizes 16 mm film, “on location” shooting, non-actors, and a certain “attack” that has a bit of an “iffy” pay off.

I suppose I am getting ahead of myself. What is David Holzman’s Diary about?

Oh, that…

David Holzman is a fictional character played by LM Kit Carson (the man who went to co-write Paris, Texas.) David straddles the fine line that I was just talking about with “reality.” He has been way too saturated in the New Wfave, and assumes that he is just as charismatic as Jean Paul Belmondo. Even more deadly, he feels like he has the talent of either Godard or Traufuat. He makes absolutely no secret about his influence by the two masters. The film is (at least I believe) a gentle satire of the indulgent side of artistic filmmaking.

What is David blind to? His life (before it becomes chaotic) is mind numbingly banal. Holzman’s existence is confined to his rattrap of an apartment, his wandering around in the same limited New York neighborhood, and his fashion model girlfriend. This is nothing unique about him, other than he somehow can afford expensive film equipment.

What is the paradox? Holzman starts to dive a bit too deep into his own self-importance and it becomes dangerous. There is a sticky point that the movie never makes quite clear; Is Holzman really going “crazy” or is he just going out of the way to alter the content of the film?

We’ll get to that, but at first I would like to take another jug into my past.

The College Video Project: Or More Wrestles with This Bitch Called “Reality”

College was not the easiest time in the world for yours truly.

I lived at home for most of the four and a half years. Socially, it was just totally hopeless. (Not for my lack of trying; it was just really difficult to make a friend). I found a loophole to take classes on conceivably anything (the “Bachelor of University Studies” degree/excuse). I migrated from one end of campus to another (through the English, Philosophy, and Theater department respectively).

What was really going on? I suppose I was beginning on my great, life long descent into existential tumult. What if this college degree was ultimately useless? What if I was deluding myself into thinking that I was doing something that wasn’t just “waiting around to die?” What was it all about? What is this illusive “reality” and am I just missing it?

This was foremost on my mind when I signed up for the one video production class I ever took. I found myself surrounded by the “future filmmakers” of America (or so they thought). I had no prior movie making experience…but had to do the assignments just the same.

I had my own opportunity to pull a David Holzman. One of the assignments was to complete a sort of filmic poem. We had to make a collection of images (non-linear or linear) that added up to a cumulative effect at the end. Remember my aforementioned whining about the “point of it all?”

I shot the whole thing entirely “in camera” because I didn’t know how to use editing equipment. (That would have required a disgusting thing called “effort,” and who has the time?)

The gist of it; I started filming really banal stuff around campus. People standing in line, school kids being escorted on field trips, and my morning commute. (The morning commute might not sound like much. Keep in mind that it was through a bizarre, industrial side of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I drove as I filmed, inventing a whole series of angles on the way.)

The final minute or so was perhaps what I was the proudest of in the entire project. I abruptly cut from the world of an angst ridden college student to a local graveyard. I convinced one of my acting class acquaintances to sneak in with me and do a juggling act on a gravesite. (This is amazing to me now because we didn’t have anything resembling a permit. In retrospect, I am probably damn lucky that we were not arrested).

The last image was of my buddy dropping a ball in his juggling act. I called the whole thing: “Juggling On My Gravestone.”

I want you to pay attention to two facts in this story. The film was both half assed and pretentious, but the surreal nature of was a brilliant cover up for that. I think what bumped it up from a B+ to an A was the juggling act. My teacher went apeshit for it; granted, my colleagues didn’t really set the bar too high.

And it was a total “David Holzman” act: I thought my life (and this “reality” question) was of much greater consequence than it was. On top of that, I took an enormous risk by sneaking into the graveyard and altering the structure of the movie. (I am not a risk taker, and I definitely wasn’t at that point in my life either.)

Oh, wait, we were talking about David Holzman’s Diary.

In “reality,” we absolutely still are talking about it.

The Coining of a Term: Or “Pulling a David Holzman”

David Holzman’s Diary, at least at the outset, can be a bit of an off-putting experience.

That is because David is completely unaware of his own indulgent nature. (I would assume, however, that writer-director Jim McBride is completely aware of it.) The first thought of any potential viewer might be: “How much time do I want to spend with this guy?”

Then something happens; David’s conceit starts to pay off in a sublime sort of poetry. The mundane becomes uniquely surreal under the camera’s eye. The best example of this in when David sets up his camera in front of his TV set. He then speeds up the film in his editing process; and we see an entire evening’s worth of moronic entertainment in about a minute and a half. (Time goes by in a blink of an eye, and David has nothing to show for it). You forgot you are essentially watching a movie about nothing and are blindsided by an original thought.

David also begins to take unhealthy risks. He films his girlfriend in the nude without asking her permission.

After that girlfriend dumps him, we see the real extent of David’s split with reality. The film turns into a photo journal of his stalking. This ends when he is arrested outside of his ex-girlfriend’s house and his camera equipment is taken away.

I won’t reveal the entire ending (because I have already given away too much in general). However, David’s last line to his imaginary audience is: “I shouldn’t have done this.” The effect is jarring and devastating, and renders the entire film in a different light. This movie that I thought was somewhat tedious and self-indulgent suddenly had a last wallop I wasn’t ready for. That, my friends, is “pulling a David Holzman.”

Why is the ending so sad? Because David has sacrificed himself for his art, and has forgotten where the line is.

Yes, his life has gone completely down the tubes. But, hey, he got a movie from it!

The Conclusion: Or What Was I Really Talking About?

I haven’t answered that question I posed at the beginning about “reality.” I think I was trying to say something about how reality and art are strange bedfellows. Maybe I was trying to talk about where egotism and art collide. The conflict between them, perhaps?

Did any of this have something to do with David Holzman?

Maybe I shouldn’t have done this…

The List of Shame: '80s Classics I How Somehow Lived Without (Part One?)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 27 Feb 2015 19:54:00 +0000

The Quintessential ‘80s Childhood (That I Must Not Have Had)

There has been on-going series of entries ever since I started Playground of Doom. (I like to throw in the title of my blog at the beginning of some of my entries…it helps fire up those engines. You know, in case someone should be so moved to Google “Playground of Doom.”)

I started entitling them as the “Why Remember Anything?” musings. The vast majority of them rotate around some obscure flick I had the (mis)fortune to still recall. The question is right there in the title: How does the psyche choose what floats up to the surface of your hazy memory?

Are you horribly lost? You will notice that I have written another one of my cheeky headlines in the space above. Yes, I grow up smack dab in the middle of the eighties…born in 1980 and I would assume that most of my earliest memories are in the first part of that decade. I don’t want to write off my entire childhood as not being ‘80s enough. I still owned a jean jacket, played “Simon,” saw the Star Wars movies multiple times, and had Billy Joel on my mom’s car radio.

So what’s the problem? There’s a bizarre empty hole in my movie viewing from that decade. I recognize titles, know an embarrassing amount about things I never saw, and have a strong idea of what I should have seen as an ‘80s kid. The issue is that I never did seem to see most of the flicks that my generation deems as “classic.”

I wrote elsewhere about my lack of exposure to the John Hughes teen comedies. The entire franchise of Nightmare on Elm Street is a foreign body to me. (That’s not entirely true; I finally saw the original one when I was all of twenty two. I had moved into my “real apartment” as a full grown adult. I decided to rent something I wasn’t allowed to watch a kid to celebrate. By that time, I was seriously underwhelmed by Freddy and fell asleep on the couch. I should have spent the money on booze and whores…but I don’t the $3 rental would have footed the bill). I also have never witnessed a full “Friday the 13” flick, except for chunks on TV.

Why is this? Is it because my family didn’t have cable? Is it because my parents were at least somewhat discerning about what I subjected my young mind to? Is it because I was a complete fucking pariah and was never invited to anyone’s house for sleep-overs? (No, never that…I was the height of schoolyard popularity!) Look, I don’t know…

I like to pat myself on the back for my highly evolved filmic tastes. (While you were watching Freddy and Jason, I was watching Psycho, motherfuckers…) Still, I have to admit that curiosity and I yearn for lost time. (Oh, we’re talking about movies, aren’t we? Excuse me.)

What am I getting at with all of this? By happenstance, I have played “catch up” in the last few months. What have I watched? You impatient people…okay; Beverly Hills Cop, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, and the real humdinger Red Dawn.

This is the inverse of my “Why Remember Anything?” series. I am not coming to these films with the burden of nostalgia. Instead, I am looking at these things in somewhat of an anthropological manner. I’m digging up the history that I haven’t experienced and trying to figure out its context.

As you know, I tend to be long winded…but some of these movies I just don’t have much to say about, really. So why don’t we just get this done with?

Beverly Hills Cop

Yes, I knew the name Axle Foley. I had heard the theme song to this movie countless times. I even knew about some of the best bits; mostly the bananas in the tail pipe gag.

Still, I didn’t even know that the Eddie character was a “fish out of water.” This is a classic comedy conceit, and it’s reasonably effective here. If this were a Jackie Chan movie, that role of the outsider would be one of the only jokes. (I don’t need to remind you of Shanghai Noon or its useless sequel.) Eddie, from what I have read, improvised the vast majority of his dialogue. (My favorite bit has to do with the quality of the LAPD Cop Car. “This is the cleanest police car I’ve ever been in…”)

I give the movie massive credit for actually having a dramatic core. Why is Axel in LA? Because he is investigating the murder of his friend…and both Eddie and the movie have that awareness. The most interesting scenes (for me) happen when Eddie switches out of comedic mode and reminds us that he is out for some revenge. There is a dramatic actor there, and that is an easy thing to forget about Eddie Murphy. Thirty years later, he still hasn’t tapped into that potential as much as he could. (His only Oscar nomination for Dreamgirls is for another primarily serious role.) I suppose that is because he needs to go out and make the next flick in the Daddy Daycare franchise. (Seriously, Eddie…)

Was it worth watching? Yes. Do I feel drastically altered by it? No.

Most importantly, is it something I really felt like I missed out on? Not really.

The John Hughes Two-fer: Pretty in Pink and Sixteen Candles

I wrote elsewhere about an Oscar party I attended the year John Hughes died. I don’t want to paraphrase that story too much, other to invoke its’ central question: “Who the fuck is Duckie?” My friends, I can now answer that question to an embarrassing degree. That, and Long Deck Dong, the Geek, and the placement of the line: “They forgot my fucking birthday.”

I made a somewhat crucial mistake in the watching of the John Hughes flicks. I watched Pretty in Pink before the more iconic (at least from what I’ve heard) Sixteen Candles. The problem with that is that I fall into the somewhat perilous position of comparing the two. Quite frankly, I like Pretty in Pink more. Why? Well, we will get to that…

Before we do, I have to say that I finally “get it” about John Hughes. There’s a certain formula that he utilizes that I call “just insightful enough.” There is enough “real” angst among the popcorn elements to guide a generation through adolescence without thoroughly depressing them. You know that Molly Ringwald is going to end up with “the guy.” You know that no one will get seriously hurt. That said, Hughes doesn’t shortchange his audience on a realistic portrait of teenage dynamics. (This is especially true of the scenes between Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall in Candles.)

I also “get it” about Molly Ringwald. The particular genius in casting a real sixteen year old in your movie is that you get to tap into that insecurity. Her reactions and interactions to just about every other actor make her relatable.

Now what about this comparison mumbo jumbo? Hughes, for my money, makes a crucial misstep in the way he handles Candles. There are too many digressions into slapstick, characters that don’t serve the story, and general silliness. The “fucking birthday” story gets lost in the mishmash of underpants and racial stereotypes. I would also note that there is no Ducky.

Let’s handle the “Duckie” scenario first. Duckie, is a fantastic display of teenage awkwardness and poignancy played by Jon Cryer. You completely buy his unrequited crush on Ringwald (and his heartbreak). You thrill to his horribly dorky bravado as he lip-synchs to Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness.” He feels a lot less contrived than Hughes’ other characters because you can’t pigeon hole him into a high school role. (He’s not a total nerd…he’s not a jock…he’s almost a hipster…but was there hipsters in the ‘80s?)

I also feel like thePretty in Pink script is tighter. There are digressions, but they are in the service of character. I’ll be honest; I never for a minute bought that Molly Ringwald and Harry Dean Stanton were “poor.” Still, the class issue gives the romance with Andrew McCarthy an added sting. I was also a big fan of Annie Potts as the record store manager/boss. Her scenes with Molly Ringwald go somewhere, and are a good commentary on wisdom learned with age.

The ending is horribly rushed, but what can you do?

On a whole, I’m glad I watched these flicks. Now I won’t have to pretend the next time they come up at a party.

“Oh yeah, I love Long Deck Dong…me so love racist stereotypes!”

Red Dawn

I promised to save the aforementioned “humdinger” for last, and so I have.

What to make of John Milius’ Red Dawn? Perhaps I should start with a confession; I thought I had seen this movie all the way through at least once. I know all about shouting “Wolverines!” at the top of your lungs. I could rattle off some of the cast members (most of them were also doing double duty as Outsiders.) I also have been given the impression that it was morally and politically fascistic. That said, I started watching it a few nights ago and nothing looked familiar.

I would also point out that fact nothing (and I mean nothing) seems to be literal. That is to say that I don’t believe the inherent reality of the movie…and we’ll get to if that is intentional or not.

These are, however, the flaws that I see on the surface:
· There is next to no character development among the teenage heroes. The one notable exception is the brother relationship between C. Thomas Howell and Patrick Swayze. They have a couple of good scenes together, and Swayze even manages to pull off a “real” performance. (Check out his solemn “man cry” in the snowy woods towards the end of the movie). Because you don’t really get to know these kids, it makes it impossible to grieve their losses as they happen.
· On that note: this is made by the man who wrote the immortal line: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.” Didn’t he know how flat his script was?
· The chronology of this movie is completely screwed up; in one scene there is summer, and in the next there is winter. Milius abandons his monthly captions (as in “January, February,” etc.) in the last half hour. That causes everything to feel non-linear…once again, is that intentional?
· The movie starts out as good old-fashioned propaganda. Get those Ruskies out of the U.S. of A! The movie pushes past propaganda into outright pornography when the teenagers are mercilessly blown to bits. That just seemed uncalled for me to, and I was upset by it.
· The “explanation” for the way the world has become at the beginning is rushed and becomes forgettable. I didn’t know who was supposed to be on what side.
· How do the boys go from inexperienced with shotguns to experts in handling rocket launchers? Where did they learn military strategy so abruptly? I am talking about before they meet the Powers Booth character.
· One last question that summates all my points: How the hell could anyone take this seriously?

Now that I have deconstructed the movie, let me try and reassemble it. This feels like a wildly imaginative adolescent daydream to me. This is a daydream that places adolescent heroes at the forefront of the story. This is the direct inverse of Lord of the Flies in which children resort to brutality without the adults. These kids don’t need the gosh darned grown ups, anyhow! They have camping equipment and cheap riffles and ammo…take that Ruskies…”Wolverines!”

As a psychology student, I can hypothesize that this kind of thing is highly flattering to the teenage ego. This is the sort of delusion that a bored thirteen year old would entertain in study hall. If you saw this movie growing up, I assume it was daydream fuel.

There is a fascinating parallel to me as an adult viewer between this movie and traditional fairy tales. In many fairy tales, children are devoured at the hands of wicked witches and monsters. That is what gives them the cautionary kick in the pants for the frightened child. Is heroically sacrificing Patrick Swayze and C. Thomas Howell not a different of the same thing?

What about the ending in which a boy and girl escape into the promised land of “free America?” How could you not think of Adam and Eve?

None of this is to say that I think Red Dawn is “good.” In fact, I think it’s pretty shitty. However, I can’t help but wonder if this is supposed to be a fairy tale. Am I looking too deeply?

Well, now, this is a surprise…

I really didn’t intend to write this much about any of these movies.

I even smell a sequel coming on; Friday the 13, Conan the Barbarian, maybe even The Monster Squad. (Although there was a kid in third grade I knew who recited the entire movie on a daily basis. So…perhaps, not.)

Thanks for reading…all two of you.

Evolution of a Film Snob: Guide for the Film Fanatic

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 20 Feb 2015 16:10:00 +0000

Part One: The Creation of a Monster

This is going to be a rather mammoth entry about something that is (possibly) of no interest to anyone but yours truly. Just remember; it’s never too late to ditch out. Still here?

Okay, this is a long rambling about how I discovered one of my passions in life.

This Is What a Counseling Degree Does to You

This is a bit of a personal digression; in January of last year I started a counseling degree. This is a bizarre process that entitles (obligates?) you to reflect on your life in a very grueling way. I’m not going into the hours of therapy I have had to have, or the papers that I have plugged away at. This is not what I am going to write about…but you wouldn’t happen to have any tissues, do you?

What happens when you spend all your time gazing into your navel? You start going way back and examining why certain things are valuable to you. Writing and film has always been the emotional nexus of my life.

But how did this all begin? Let me lay down on the couch…is the clock going? How much time do we have? Hmmm….

The “Story” About How I Became a Film Nut

There isn’t one…really…

I wanted desperately to begin this entry with a fanciful tale about why I became so fascinated with the world of film.

Was I abducted by aliens and forced to watch 8 ½ on the way to Jupiter? No.

Did angels float down from Heaven one day and whisper: “You love movies…”? As a lifelong atheist, I can’t proclaim to have those kind of intense religious examples.

I always envy people who have magical stories about stumbling into a movie theater one rainy day. They (seemingly at random) watch some art film, and then rush into the streets at the end and yell: “Film shall be my life.” I don’t have that story, either.

My story is mundane; I walked into a public library and yanked a book off the shelf. There wasn’t even a shaft of light that fell on the book that was Guide for the Film Fanatic by Danny Peary.

I had never seen a book like this one before. Every conceivable genre was included the same book as “essential viewing.” Peary states at the very that watching every movie in the book (including slashers, pornos, and plenty of obscure B-movies) will serve to make you a “film fanatic.” This, my friends, became a bit of a crusade for me at that time in my life.

“The game” of becoming a “film fanatic” is relatively simple:
· You identify an obscure B-movie, slasher, or porno that you absolutely can’t live without seeing. After that, you put a little box next to the title. What happens after that?
· Dear reader, you have to understand that this was “the ‘90s.” A decade that the popular conscience is now obsessed with sentimentalizing. I survived the decade, and I’m here to tell you it wasn’t that fucking great. If you are one of my younger readers, imagine a time without the magic of cheap ITunes downloads and affordable streaming services. There wasn’t even the choice to dial up some cinematic oddity on YouTube. This meant that I was reduced to spending thousands of hours in video stores…often watching “prints” (as they say) with seriously subpar quality to fill in those boxes.
· What happened when I filled out one of those boxes? Most of the time, I was drastically disappointed with what I watched. (We will touch on why that is in a minute.)
· The biggest let down was most of the movies I read about I would never be able to find. (Remember…the ‘90s.)

This was one of those times in my life when I badly needed a project. Why? Indulge me while I venture into the personal.

A Little Story about the Year I Didn’t Exist

There are typical stories about high school losers. You see countless examples of this every time you flip o the TV. There are cultural paradigms that we seem particularly obsessed as a nation. The first one is the “nerd who makes good,” the guy who was perpetually ignored until he found his real gift in his parents’ garage. The other archetype we love has to do with the “loner who goes over the edge.” This is the bullied kid who (seemingly) out of nowhere explodes and riddles the hallways with bullets and makes national news.

Which one was I? Neither.

Both of these roles required one thing I didn’t have much of: initiative! This was something that I sorely lacked at that time in my life. I had manipulated my mother into convincing her I needed a stint of “homeschooling.” I was yanked out, and got to spend a plethora of time on my own. (This is where I cultivated my absolutly stunning social skills. I also decided a strange fixation with Country Music Television…when I could get away with watching it during the day. Sorry, Mom…)

This lead to me getting sent back to back into public school for my “senior year.” I reentered the public school nightmare at the biggest learning facility in town. I didn’t know a single person, student or teacher, and wasn’t about to change that on my own. My grades plummeted, my confidence crashed, and I slept all of two hours a night. (I had an easier time when I stumbled around the school like a zombie all day.)

The general consensus was that I was someone to be completely ignored. (In retrospect, I thought I was “enjoying” this experience much more than I actually was. There is nothing all that enjoyable about being written off by your peers and teachers).

I suppose I could go on with tales of woe. That’s not the point; Mr. Peary had provided me with the secret mission of being a “film fanatic.” This entitled me to feel secretly superior to the “stars of track and field” that I was sharing the halls with at school. I would stole away at my lunch table with my library copy of the book. After that, I would take it home with me and stay up all night reading the thing.

This lead to a variety of odd habits; excuse me, I mean the work of “becoming a film fanatic.”

This lead to a gathering of utterly bizarre behaviors that got me through being “invisible.”

The Odd Habits of a Film Fanatic

Bad Habit #1:

I mentioned previously that this was in the glory days before I could get on the Internet. There was also very few used bookstores around my area; fewer still that would carry a copy of Guide for the Film Fanatic.

I grew tired of not being able to track my progress as a fanatic. This led me to doing something at least marginally illegal. (Hopefully the statute of limitations is up on what I am about to confess.) I started to write in the library book! I put Danny Peary’s suggested “check boxes” next to various pieces of junk I wanted to (eventually) get to. I would mark a few more off the list every time I brought the book home.

Bad Habit #2:

Danny Peary was from a time when this twenty first century notion of “spoilers” simply didn’t exist. The man would succinctly tell you the entire story of a film before offering his critical analysis. I never felt cheated by this particular practice; in fact, quite the opposite happens.

I would start to interpret Peary’s summaries with my own imagine. The movies I had no way of tracking down would become vivid daydreams. I would drift off and think about them in class or when I couldn’t sleep. This would lead to an inevitable let down when I finally did manage to find a worn out VHS tape.

Bad Habit #3:

I developed a bizarre, obsessive relationship with the local TV page. (Will someone write in and tell me if such a thing still exists?) I had absolutely no interest in catching a rerun of Family Ties.

No, instead I will flip to the back and study the “Movies” section. I would, of course, be scanning the rags for familiar sounding titles. I would mostly find them at the off hours; the dark of night, the early morning, or when I was supposed to be at school.

I got my own TV at some point during this miserable “senior year.” I remember setting my clock radio to watch Cornel Wilde’s brutal, primitive feeling nightmare The Naked Prey. (A film that contains sequences more terrifying than any horror flick; including a man being encased in dried mud and fed to ants.)

This led to more zombie walking, sleep deprivation, and an over all apathetic indifference towards anyone living.

But, damn it, I was one step closer to being a “film fanatic.”

All of this did lead to one formative experience that I will never forget.

The Time Five Easy Pieces Got Stuck in My VCR

I had done a thorough job cycling through the schlock that Peary lists. There was, however, one review that I read repeatedly for a film I had never even heard of before. This is Bob Rafelson’s immortal 1970 classic Five Easy Pieces.

For those of you not in the know; this movie stars Jack Nicholson as the “black sheep” in a rich family. He has left a career as a classical pianist to work in the oil industry.

By this time in my youth, Jack Nicholson had become: “Jack!” I didn’t know the man could legitimately act his heart out, and make you cry as he confronts his vegetable father in a wheel chair. I didn’t know that movies where you could be coerced into rooting for a hapless loser were a thing. (The term “anti-hero” hadn’t come up in my “outside of school” activities)

Five Easy Pieces affected me in a very deep way that I didn’t quite understand. The movie wouldn’t leave my head; and the tape got lodged in my VCR. I spent about three hours trying to dislodge the damned thing by ejecting and reinserting it. While I was doing that, I would watch sections of it over and over again. This was actually an exercise in honing my critical skills, but I didn’t know that at the time.

Part Two: The Boy Becomes a Man, or the Emergence of the “Inner Snob.”

Life has a bizarre way of imposing transitions on you (even if you don’t ask for them).

I wasn’t going to languish in high school forever…instead; I could move on and languish at a higher educational level. This meant the state college, which welcomed me in a manner resembling a factory assembly line. Have you ever watched a car being assembled? Scrap parts are assembled into a functional car without much thought or art to the process. I felt the same way about college; you were shuffled out with a stamp that read “Graduate.”

The library copy of Guide for the Film Fanatic that I had horribly mangled was finally returned. I did go back and look for it once in my sophomore year, and found it in the same place. This time I didn’t have as many spare hours to obsess about it.

This wasn’t all glum, because I started to take film classes in the false belief they would be “easy As.” I couldn’t have been more wrong, as Intro to Film was one of the hardest classes I ever took.

Remember my story about Five Easy Pieces stuck in the VCR? These classes were like being encouraged to jam your VCR all the time. We would watch one film, and then we would go back and study individual scenes an infinite amount of times. I learned fancy words like “Mise en scene” and “Kuleshov effect.”

More importantly, I discovered it wasn’t as painful to sit through movies like Citizen Kane and Antoinia’s Line as previously thought. In fact, “artier” movies could lead to more intellectually and emotionally rewarding experiences.

How disgustingly mature of me, right?

Part Three: The Roundabout Experience

In my late twenties, I somehow scrambled together an actual film crew together and made a movie. Making a film is like having that first “free sample” of chocolate at the Sam’s Club. All you can do is think about ways to replicate that experience, even you know (realistically) that it might never happen again.

I wanted to fill that void by continuing to study movies. This led to me looking for my “old friend” on Amazon, and finding it for a very low price. (We are talking in the range of a couple of dollars for a very used copy.)

The book arrived, and it was a “same but different” experience.

Here is what I discovered:
· The “artier” fare that I had somewhat of an aversion to watching was always listed in the book. I just didn’t pay attention in my days of youthful apathy.
· I disagree with Mr. Peary on a few different titles that he accuses of being “boring.” One example: he calls My Dinner with Andre “boring” and makes it sound self-indulgent. I finally watched that movie last year, and had a real “nothing will ever be the same for me” experience with it. I found the format of “two guys blabbing on philosophically” challenging and invigorating.
· I still have that bizarre, (possibly false) sense of achievement when I check off a title. This happened just this week when I sat through the generic and not very good ‘80s comedy Down and Out in Beverly Hills. I didn’t laugh once (outside of a polite chuckle), and kept checking my phone for e-mails. However, I didn’t feel like it was a waste of time because Danny Peary said I should watch it.

What I Am Really Getting At? (Or “Back to Counseling School”)

I have a habit of watching my “word count” as I write these entries. This particular “word count” is upsettingly huge and unwieldy. That said, I still don’t know what the hell I am talking about here. (Or do I? How should go deeper with this sense of incoherence? Hmmmm….)

What really happened when I yanked that library off the shelf? I don’t know, really.

I can jabber on about “formative experiences,” or wonder about mere happenstance. Right now, I just know that it was the beginning of an interest. Staying up all night to watch some obscure flick led to me wanting to use my writing skills to document that. This all made me (to use a horrible cliché that I hate) the “person I am today.” I am still writing, and still watching movies. I will be doing this until it’s the ordained (or completely random) time for me to croak. The fact that I now realize I won’t be Roger Ebert or Robert Altman when I grow up hasn’t deterred me.

As I write this, I realize that you just don’t know where and when these kinds of moments will happen. The random discovery of a neglected book can lead a person off in a new direction in life. How does that happen? I wish I had a concrete answer to that.

All right, this particular entry is toast. I am going back to studying about how to diagnose mental illness and affects of antidepressants.

After I do that, I have Blindman (1971) queued up as a “study reward.” This is apparently a riff on Zatioichi and has Ringo Starr playing the central villain.

Sounds horrible, right? Yes, this is one more open box for me to fill in…

Interview with Nicolas Caicoya

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 13 Feb 2015 21:43:00 +0000

Preamble

For many people, film school is overrated and expensive without much experiential pay-off. Nicolas Caicoya (or “Nico” for short) is a filmmaker who has decided to get his hands dirty. Caicoya has a truly impressive reel that includes commercials for big companies and personal projects. His stylistic imprint is apparent on all of them; heavily influenced by the mainstream ‘80s Hollywood aesthetic that he grow up loving.

Caicoya is currently making the rounds with his short Hyena’s Blood. This is a short that is influenced by Sam Peckinpah and Jim Thompson, as well as Nico’s deep love for Mexico.

Caicoya took some time off from his busy schedule to answer some questions for us.

Dusty: What are your formative film experiences?

Nico: Watching movies and working on commercials. I left my University pretty early on. I learn more from doing than speculating about why a director did this or that. My school was too intellectual, on the wrong side of being intellectual, of course. I am bored of directors who feel they have to say something important on each frame or that they shot. Or that they are special just because they hold a camera...

Movies you grow up watching?

I grew up in the 80s: The Goonies, Ghostbusters, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Explorers, E.T., Back to the Future, Gremlins, Ferris Bueller ́s Day Off, Poltergeist, Terminator, Aliens... If you see some of my commercials, you can definitely see the influence.

Was there an “a- ha” moment that made you want to be a filmmaker?

I grew up in a non-T. V. Family, so the first time I went to see a movie I almost died. It was E.T. I wanted to control that magic. I was so non T.V. that the first time I watched Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video I couldn’t ́t sleep for one week. It was too real for me. And for the other kids of my age thought it was fun! FUN? I am just starting now to watch horror films, 30 years after that day...

Tell us a bit about your background and education?

I came from a family that is the opposite of film business. No interest, no contact with it. My parents are both surgeons and I also prepped myself to become a doctor when I was younger. I was making films by myself and with my friends. I also was used to go to ER with my father to do his operation videos so he could share them at his University classes. I loved it there but I thought movies where more challenging. I know that if I studied hard enough I could become a doctor. But I was still intrigued by the “unknown” of the movie world. That said, I would still love to become a doctor.

You have a lengthy and impressive “commercial reel” having done several spots for companies such as Nestle and McDonald’s. How did you transition into commercial work?

Actually, coming from where I was coming it was not easy to find a place where to start learning or just make contact into the business. Spain is not such a big country as the USA and. It does not have a proper movie business. That’s why my first contact was with a commercial production company. I learned there, as we all learn, doing everything they asked me to do! After a few years, I directed a fake commercial and the company started “repping” me. I was pretty young when I started, around 23... That’s why I have so much work! Commercials are the best school ever. At least for a person like me that feels alive when shooting. I always tried to move on to a feature but it is not easy, considering what are the standards of my short...You can imagine the features I have in mind!

Tell us about your short Hyena’s Blood. What was the process of making it like?

It took many years because I produced it entirely by myself. So I had to save a lot of money. I wanted it to look the way I wanted. First time I did a commercial in México, I felt in love. So I created a story happening there. The crews are fantastic, their actors amazing. And when I read that the drug problem in México was provoked by the need of morphine during World War II I said to myself: “There is a story here!”

How do you balance commercial work with personal projects?

Easy answer! When I have money enough to do personal projects, I do them. Right now I am bankrupted after Hyena ́s, so I focus on commercials.

Do you have thoughts on the importance of “visual storytelling”?

Everything is visual, the right movement of an eye will tell you more than one written page...

Additionally, how much time do you spend storyboarding?

I always storyboard. In the 80s there was no more super 8 film, editing was easy and fun with film. My generation grew up with the new digital 8, but editing suites where totally out of price for kids. So I learned to shoot and edit at the same time. I had my disc man while shooting. I stopped the camera on the sound bite I wanted...I remember doing a sword fight in an old castle and wanted to do it from inside the castle and from outside in a parallel edit...We ran a lot that day! Storyboarding for me is an editing concept that makes me feel secure. If I understand the story I understand the film. And once I have it I feel free to improvise! It’s good to have it to change it while shooting.

What’s next? Any dream projects that you have in mind?

A lot... And I hope Hyena ́s will help me to contact the right people!

Check out Nico's Site: http://www.nicolascaicoya.com/

The Playground Gets Ponderous: The Mash Up Part 2 (Guardians of the Galaxy Vs. Battle Beyond the Stars)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sat, 07 Feb 2015 03:19:00 +0000

This is Part Two of a Multi-Part Series:

My original question was this: Have I “aged out” of the blockbuster? If I had seen Guardians of the Galaxy or Dawn of the Planet of the Apes younger, what would my reaction be? (If you’re really lost, feel free to go back to my earlier entry. In fact, please do; I’m trying to boost my stats and increase my self-worth. Through blogging? Yeah…I know.) I also introduced the “mash up” style of these reviews…comparing one movie to an older one.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vs. Battle Beyond the Stars

I would like to start out with a bit of a digression.

I haven’t watched the original Star Wars trilogy in close to twenty years now. Why? Perhaps, to elaborate on my current theme, I have an inherent sense that I would not enjoy them anymore. I know all about how George Lucas cribbed from both Kurosawa and Joseph Campbell to hash out his idea. I also have a painful awareness that the films are basically hyped up “B-movies” with A-Level budgets. (From my memory, though, at least Star Wars owns its schlock and doesn’t ironically distance itself from it.)

More specifically, I have the nagging suspicion that I would just be too old to love them. Star Wars hits that magical niche in every geeky six to twelve years’ heart that truly believes the universe can be saved by a rag tag band of outsiders.

Guardians of the Galaxy takes a gamble on the same formula, and it mostly succeeds. Oddly enough, though, I wasn’t thinking about Star Wars at all as I sat in the air-conditioned theater.

Why?

This is a roundabout answer to that question. Months before, I had been trying to get to sleep in front of Netflix. I stumbled onto Battle of Beyond the Stars, a movie that I knew about mostly by reputation. One of my favorite filmmakers is John Sayles; a man I know has paid more than a few bills by writing for hire. This was one of his paycheck projects for Roger Corman.

This is not a film that you would immediately compare to Guardians of the Galaxy.

What are the surface similarities?

· Both films have above average scripts that take the material seriously, while still incorporating a “winking” sense of humor.
· They both incorporate “outsiders saving the universe” motifs to seduce a young audience. Battle (borrowing a trick from The Magnificent Seven) spends a far amount of time on its protagonist (Richard “John Boy” Thompson) gathering his eccentric team. (The “Guardians” come together somewhat haphazardly because of the classic plot device of a “bounty” on the hero’s head.)
· For the most part, you are dealing with two “good hearted” films that are aiming only to entertain.

I’m not in the business of saying which movie is “better” than another one.

Which one did I enjoy more? In the grand tradition of rooting for the underdog, I am going to declare Battle the champion.

Why?

I will start with the most arbitrary of facts: the running time. Battle (at 1hr. 44 minutes) is a full sixteen minutes shorter than Guardians (at 2 hrs. and 1 minute). I have an inherent hunch that Guardians is a tad too long. I feel like it is almost best to just get in and out without lingering too much on “cleverness.” (Example: A Footloose reference is mildly amusing, but it doesn’t need to drag on for ten minutes). I was able to finish watching Battle without losing my focus and still get to bed at a reasonable hour.

“No Money” VS “Lots of Money”: Battle is a very self-aware cheap movie, while Guardians looks as if no expense was spared. We are bordering on my discussion about CGI again. Everything in Guardians looks a bit too “air brushed” and “animated” for my taste. The sets and aliens in Battle have a charming “bad high school play” quality. The result (perhaps unintentionally) is everything feels a bit less polished and more “human.”

The final note (and this has a very minor spoiler): Battle has a much darker and sadder ending than Guardians would even imagine. Most of the major characters are sacrificed for the greater good, and there’s an unrepentantly emotional pay off. If you’ve seen the movie, you know that at least one of the “Guardians” doesn’t make it. For added poignancy, though, you just can’t beat almost everyone biting the dust. (Except John Boy, of course...)

Am I answering my question about being “too old?” I will attempt to answer that with a leading analogy. If I had the choice between rooting for the awkward fat kid (Battle), or the good-looking jock (Guardians)…well, what would my choice be? The awkward fat kid is whom I will instinctively side with in this particular case. The fat kid is not self-impressed; something that I find the over bloated Guardians to be.

Did I Really Answer the Question?

I stated up front that this whole mess had something to do with being “too old” for the summer blockbuster.

Did I answer that question? Perhaps I hit a bit of a traffic stop on the way to the big finish.

What do I think? I will say that the answer to the question is more or less a “Yes.” My own cynicism and over education has taken me straight out of the audience for these two movies. This is an indirect by product of the mysterious process we know as “aging.”

I remember a very distinct thought that came in my head while I was watching Guardians. The one, incidentally, that I would love to leave you with.

“This would be my favorite movie ever…if I was fourteen.”

The Playground Gets Ponderous: The "Mash Up" Part One (Or Apes Vs Apes)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 30 Jan 2015 18:18:00 +0000

This is A Multi-Part Series, and this is Part One

I’m going to do a bit of an experiment to see if I have “return customers.” I originally wrote this to be one long piece…but on second thought I have asked that immortal question: “Who has the time?” I now have to face the prospect of copy editing this blabbing, and even I don’t want to read the whole thing. And I worship my own brilliance…even though my self-esteem is too low to admit that openly.

While we both try to figure out that paradox, the real meat of the article is below.

The Question: Have I Aged Out of the Blockbuster?

I have decided to start off this particular entry with a little bit of an open question. This was inspired by “recent viewings” in the glorious summer of 2014. (This post is going to be horribly dated by the time I put it up. I am in one of those “retrofitting my blog” phases in which I write stuff to be posted months later. That’s right, I’m talking to you from the distant past…time travel is real!)

Asking a question is one thing, but what does it actually mean?

I suppose I should backtrack and say that I did indeed go to see Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and Guardians of the Galaxy. I went the whole hog and ventured out to the crowded multiplex, spent $15 on soda, and sat through every last bleeding preview.

Let’s get one thing down up front: This is not going to be a good place to come for any kind of review of these flicks. I will state for the record that I find both of them well above average “tent pole” movies. I will commend both of them for being intelligently executed…serious thought went into what sort of effect they should have on the audience. Guardians in particular utilizes an ironic wit and attention to character that spices up a familiar space opera plot.

So what’s the problem? I can answer this now, for those of you in the audience who are particularly impatient. I’m not between the ages of eight and thirteen any more.

That, to me, is far from a satisfactory answer. There are more nuggets in this little bit of alphabet soup on the stove.

Such as:

· I specifically wonder if I can ever truly be a victim of “the shock of the new” again. I have seen just about every trope used about five times. When was the last time something felt so original for me that it was perverse and bizarre? (Example: The way I felt the first time I watched any one of the original “Apes” movies. Fake gorilla masks, orange jump suits, and everything that goes with them).
· The movies in question are not marketed at me personally. I don’t have cable TV (and haven’t for well over a decade). I have stopped following upcoming movie release dates (which used to be an obsession of mine). Sadly, I just can’t justify buying the latest action figures in my current budget. What does of this alleviate me of? The very thing that Carly Simon once crooned so lovingly about: “Anticipation.” I’m not marking down the days until (fill in the blank) comes out. I have a bit of sadness about this, to be perfectly honest.
· The “seen it all” numbness has sabotaged my life as a viewer. Everyone can reasonably point to Guardians of the Galaxy and say: “Holy shit, that’s Star Wars.” That, oddly enough, is not what came to mind at all for me when I was watching it. (We’ll get to that, too).

These are the symptoms, but what is the real disease?

I’m too old for both of these movies, but how do I know that?

The only way I can think to do is what the kids refer to as “mash up style.” I doubt that anyone who uses the Internet needs an explanation, but I’ll offer one anyway. The “mash up” consists of two songs that are combined to create a new Frankenstein beast. The vast majority of them are introduced as one song vs. another.

I’m thinking of a clever one I heard a while ago that consisted of Blondie’s “Rapture” Vs. The Door’s “Riders on the Storm.” You know the drill, right? The two songs are (supposedly) blended together until they become one seamless entity. That is, at least, in theory what is supposed to happen, right?

What really happens for me? I get too caught up in which song has “won.” I get too focused in isolating riffs and lyrics until the whole enterprise blows apart. (Do you really need to ask? The Doors win out over Blondie every day of the week.)

So, without further ado…

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes vs. The Original “Apes” Films

Before I move on to harsh criticism, I would at least like to applaud “Dawn” for a few things:

· This is the single best example I have ever seen of flawlessly integrating CGI organically into a movie plot. In fact, I actively forgot that I was watching CGI and accepted the apes are “real” characters. They emote; they behave realistically, and (in some cases) out act their human counter parts.
· The Ape/Human dynamic is entirely believable and (for the most part) emotionally satisfying. I especially applaud the screenwriters for not taking the easy route of becoming overly didactic. (They actually manage to move away from Rod Serling’s heavy-handed points about “the animal within men.” There’s no final “Damn You All To Hell” moment at the Statue of Liberty. I love that final scene in the original movie, but it is ripe with “on the nose” morality.)
· At the end of the film, I felt contractually obligated to watch the sequel. That sounds slightly bleak, but it is a sure measure that I have been hooked.

I said it before, but it bears repeating: This is a far above average, intelligently handled, reasonably well made summer movie. A movie that manages to be “cheap entertainment” and a “thinking person’s sci-fi” opus more or less at the same time.

What’s the problem? What does this movie sorely lack? What was I so tuned into when I first watched the “Apes” series at nine or ten? I can sum that up for you in one work: perversity.

Perversity?

Yes, exactly.

The original “Apes” movies (in case it’s been a while) are shockingly strange and completely perverse. There are half naked humans in cages; ape suits galore, nightmarish medical experiments, and a very high level of plain “weirdness.” This is all contained in the most inappropriately “G-rated” films you will ever see. (Yes, all the films except for one was inexplicably rated “G.” Somebody ask the MPAA what was up with that, will you?)

Perhaps my real issue with “Dawn” is that nothing made my inner twelve year old uncomfortable. I would point out various examples of “nightmare fuel” from different points in the series.

Remember the museum of stuffed humans that Chuck Heston runs through to escape his captors? The museum that showcases his former astronaut friends? Or how about the strange subway dwelling aliens from Beneath the Planet of the Apes? That’s not even my most extreme example; for that I would submit the second half of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes. This is the sequel that starts out as a simple story about the ape who said “no.” By the sixty-minute mark, it has dissolved into wall-to-wall “apes kicking ass.” This means men dressed up in ape masks and orange jump suits toppling the police. (Feel free to read some kind of analogy about race riots into this.)

I do also have to delve into the quality that the original masks undoubtedly have for generations of “Ape” fans. The oddest thing about them is that the mouths move when speech comes out of the actors. That said, the rest of the mask remains totally immobile. That creates a strange and somewhat horrifying discontent; a contradiction that Cesar and friends from the current movie don’t have.

I mean, really; would you want to open your front door one dark night and find Dr. Zauis standing there?

No, you wouldn’t.

All of this is suspiciously missing from the current “Apes” reboot. That makes it feel oddly unmemorable and a tad generic. If it were a friend coming to me for advice, I’d say: “You should just freak out, man…”

I can’t say if “Dawn” is hitting that “weird” switch for the younger audience. The one that is immediately under my age bracket (which would make them Generation Z?) I just know that I’m no longer there anymore.

Does this ending feel abrupt? Wait, there’s more…

I’ll be back with my old and jaded review of Guardians of the Galaxy next week.

“An-ti-ci-pation….”

Public Domain Hell: One Got Fat

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 23 Jan 2015 16:07:00 +0000

There’s No Real Way to Review One Got Fat (1963)

I’m breaking with my tradition from reviewing standard feature films for this particular entry. The only other time I have reviewed a short was when I took a look at another anomaly of filmmaking: Heavy Metal Parking Lot.

I can summarize for you what exactly you will be looking at if you even choose to seek One Got Fat out. This is (ostensibly) a bicycle safety film from the early sixties featuring a cast of actors dressed in grotesque “monkey customs.” The terrifying expressionless quality of the masks alone is enough to give any rational person nightmares.

There is also a (perhaps unintentional) cynical nature to the entire proceeding. Why? Because the aforementioned monkeys start making crucial “bicycle safety” mistakes and parish like teenagers in a slasher film. They are hit by cars, fall down manholes, and have their arches collapse on them. (That last thing happens when you don’t inflate your bike tires properly. You have to run on your own two feet…and bam!)

We are not dealing with something that is quite “good” or “bad,” but inexplicably odd. My movie reviewer capacities are momentarily switched off and I have the only human response that is reasonable: “What the fuck is this?”

There are, of course, subsets of that particular question: “Why the fuck does this exist?” Or the more accusatory: “What the fuck were they thinking?”

There is also the personal question: “Why the fuck do I even know this exists?”

The answer to that is relatively innocuous; one of my oldest friends called me to tell he and his wife were expecting a child. I wholeheartedly congratulated him, and then implored not to gross everyone out by posting the ultrasound photos on Facebook. (This is something my friend and his wife respectfully did refrain from. To the expectant parents out in the world; baby pictures are at least moderately tolerable. But do we really need to see the horror movie like spectacle of an unborn child via your ultrasound? Consider the people who eat and look at Facebook.)

Why did our conversation turn to obscure bicycle safety videos? I don’t know.

The experience of watching One Got Fat is almost impossible to describe. That won’t stop me from asking a bit of a loaded question.

What Exactly Is “Educational Content?”

This is a bit of a personal digression, but please follow me down the rabbit hole.

There was a time in my distant past when I had to suffer through Driver’s Ed. I assume that most of my readers have had to go through this humiliating experience; a full week of your life given away to constant drilling about traffic safety rules. I had come prepared, however, for the “highlight” of the class.

That’s right, I was dying with anticipation to watch gory videos. I couldn’t wait to be “scared straight” by having my eye sockets bludgeoned with the “worst” auto safety had to offer.

The instructor (in his best version of a “big pal” act) spent some time “lovingly” warning us about what we were about to watch.

After that, we began to sit through “the most traumatic experience of our young lives.” There was a disconnect; outside of the blood and gore, the videos were largely like watching a lost ‘50s sitcom episode. A badly dressed businessman would have a drink in his “vintage” living room, and then stumble out to his car. There would be an abrupt cut to a real, horrific automobile accident. The mayhem was rendered almost inoffensive because anything following a subpar episode of Ozzie and Harriet can’t be taken seriously.

Our instructor also completely switched his manner from “big pal” to “wannabe Freddy Kruger.” This meant that he had to point out every gruesome bit of mayhem to us after he continually pushed the pause button.

“Do you see that blob on the ground?” he screamed “That’s his lung.”

Was this educational? No. Was it properly scary? Absolutely not. No, this was one of the most hilarious experiences of my entire life.

I had chosen to sit all the way in the back of the classroom (possibly to limit my interaction with the other teenagers). I just sat there snickering and making mental commentary. All of this while my instructor continued to scream: “Do you see that red blotch on the highway? That was from his head flying through the windshield and bouncing…”

To bring this full circle to One Got Fat; there was absolutely no way I was ever going to learn from these videos. They might have been chalk full of “educational content,” but they had very little “educational value.”

Does One Got Fat have any “educational value?’

What Was The Original Reception for One Got Fat?

There are different ways that I can imagine ‘60s kids reacting to One Got Fat.

· The Monkey masks traumatized the first groups of kids. They went home crying to their Mommies about how the Monkeys were coming for them at midnight.
· The second group of kids were so befuddled by the over all oddness that they didn’t pay attention to the “educational content.” They were my spiritual ancestors; and they watched things ironically.

The one thing I can hand the film is that it does teach you something about proper educational etiquette. Use hand signals! Don’t ride on the sidewalks! Don’t ride against the flow of traffic! These are all valid pointers, aren’t they?

But; Why grotesque monkey suits? Why the death of innocents? Why the cheerful canned music?

I haven’t even mentioned…

The Greatest Twist Ending in the History of Educational Film

I haven’t mentioned that this film has a through line; there is one bicycle passenger that we never see. This is the kid who has his bicycle basket filled with his companions’ lunches. His face is never revealed, until after all of his friends have perished.

The “last man standing” is a human being, and not a grotesque monkey. The point is that he is too “evolved” to make such hazardous mistakes. He “gets fat” (hence the Zen like title) as he eats all his friends’ lunches alone. Monkeys make mistakes, but little human beings never do. Isn’t that a wonderful moral, kids?

I tell you, dear reader, that I just didn’t see this ending coming. This puts Jacob’s Ladder and The Sixth Sense to absolute shame.

The Original Question I Will Never Be Able to Answer

Why the fuck does this exist?

I feel slightly bad poking fun at One Got Fat because it reeks of “sincerity.” The people behind this little film worked hard, and had great intentions. They spent a ton of time making sure those Monkey masks looked just right.

Someone willed this little film into existence, and I congratulate them on that.

Now why not sit back and laugh at it?

Why Remember Anything: Sonny Boy (1989)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sat, 17 Jan 2015 16:27:00 +0000

The Cat Has Gotten My Proverbial Tongue

I find myself in front of the arduous task of reviewing the 1989 (true) oddity Sonny Boy with very little to say. Why?

This is the one film I have seen in my life that renders my finely honed armchair critic skills obsolete. I have no idea if Sonny Boy is a “good movie” or “bad movie.” (Right off the bat, my two favorite categories become boxes that don’t fit the subject.) Even more truthfully, I find the mere existence of this flick almost completely inexplicable. I am moving past the: “How did this get green lit?” into a realm of “Am I seeing this correctly?” (The whole affair has an aura of a dream that the dreamer would most likely prefer to forget entirely…more to come on that later.)

This is beyond the realm of “weird movie,” into the arena of flat out “wow, that is really fucked up.” (Kids: I can totally use “fucked up” in an academic way, as long as I put the quotes around it. Remember that for your upcoming English assignments; your teacher will “fucking” love it!)

Additionally: I find the fact that Sonny Boy occasionally manages to stick its head above obscurity from time to time an amazement.

What am I getting at with all of this? I am in the wake of my second viewing of Sonny Boy and I find myself in line with the title character. That would be Sonny Boy (who is very well played by Michael Boston); his father cuts out his tongue as a “present” for his sixth birthday. This gives him the “gift of silence,” and only a reluctant willingness to take an honest look at his situation.

A missing tongue and writer’s block? That sounds like a metaphorical match made in Heaven.

And perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself…What’s the obvious question?

What the Holy Hell Is Sonny Boy (1989)?

Oh, that…

Here’s the best job I can do for a standard “plot synopsis.” (There might be some spoilers…and if there isn’t, those will come later).

Slue (a repulsive, unnerving Paul L. Smith) and Pearl (David Carradine in a dress and wig) are outlaws living in the backwoods town of Harmony, New Mexico. (This movie is made in my own backyard, as I am a native New Mexican. We’ll get to that later, too.) They essentially “own” the town, making a living off of hocking a wide variety of stolen goods. Their “home” is a relative wasteland, littered with TV, guns, car parts, and a tower with a bell in it. (I still can’t figure out the tower, and I am guessing it was just there when the location scout found it.)

Slue has most of his dirty work done by an unhinged punk named Weasel. Weasel, it most be noted, is played by Brad Dourif in what should be considered a signature role. He gives every bit of disturbed energy into making Weasel a truly nasty, and yet curiously pathetic creation. This goes right down to his clothing; he is dressed like a wannabe punk who raided the Salvation Army store. As great as Dourif is, I can’t help but wonder if he was thinking: “How did I got from working with John Houston to this?”

The “real” story begins after Weasel robs a clean-cut couple checking into a cheap motel. He steals their red convertible, totally unaware that they have left their newborn baby in the back. The baby is unearthed by Pearl, who makes the strong assertion that the baby is now “hers.” (Okay, here’s my theory about David Carradine’s character of Pearl. I believe that we are looking at someone who is transgendered from male to female. The fact that “she” is so insistent on keeping “Sonny Boy” has to do with not being able to have a child biologically.)

Are you still with me? Because, believe it or not, this is where the movie “gets weird.” Slue begins to train “Sonny Boy” with games of “strength and love.” They include such wonderful childhood activities as being dragged behind a car, tied to a rod in the middle of a circle of fire, and (yes) having your tongue cut out as a sixth birthday present. Doesn’t this bring back warm memories of all the times you spent with your Dad, dear reader?

That all leads to the real “point” of Sonny Boy’s “training.” Slue enlists him to murder the people who try to overthrow his criminal hold on the small town of Harmony. This is a story about an unwilling, deeply programmed killer. I can’t help but think of that a much more “thriller” oriented film could have come out of this material.

This is most certainly not a thriller. So, as I originally asked, what the holy hell is it?

The More Standard “Review” Section of This Entry

I said at the beginning of this entry that I can’t say if Sonny Boy is “good” or “bad.”

I even struggled with how to properly summarize the film.

There are quite a few things I didn’t mention above, such as:

· For a movie with a high amount of “disturbing” material, Sonny Boy is surprisingly leisurely about how it unravels itself. There is pleasant music on the soundtrack, which would sound right at home as the background for a Willie Nelson album. (Think of the Willie classic Red Headed Stranger.) This almost lessens the impact of the “shock” scenes, as they become part of the tapestry.
· Speaking of music: David Carradine contributes the terrific folk rock number “Maybe It Ain’t” which moseys over the opening credits. He plays it again (on an old piano) at Sonny Boy’s sixth birthday party, or tongue cutting off ceremony. The song speaks wistfully of wanting to find that magical place where all your dreams will come true. At the same time, it acknowledges that sort of thinking is usually fraught with illusions. Am I looking too deeply into this? Or is this a statement on the “trapped” nature of the character’s existence? Are they aware of their own unique tragedy? I am asking this because I wonder if we are supposed to assume that Pearl wrote the song. (“She” is seen performing it at the party, after all.)
· “Sonny Boy” might be speechless, but we hear his thoughts via voice over. (I can hear Robert McKee screaming: “God help you if you use voice over.”) His tone is oddly childlike, passive, and extremely nonthreatening. He is the one who tells us that Slue’s “games” are about “strength and love.” His voice over becomes more heartbreaking as he gains self-awareness. He is eventually enlisted in the killing of a priest, and informs us he is not used to tasting the “blood of a good man.”
· Michael Boston truly does give a great performance, considering his silence guarantees him the hardest role. A moment of great acting? Boston looks in the mirror after his first killing, and sees himself shirtless and covered in blood. His expression is totally believable, and quietly devastating.
· There are allusions to both Jesus and the Frankenstein monster in this story. The “Frankenstein” story is invoked in the mob that gathers at the end to find “Sonny Boy.” (This is consistent with the character being an unwilling monster.) Jesus is thrown in the mix as Sonny Boy is instructed to steal a crucifix. (The “why” behind this is still a complete puzzle to me). I’m not sure which is stranger; having Jesus and Frankenstein sandwiched into a story like this or my needing to understand “why” they are there.
· Did I mention that the adult Sonny Boy is kept in a hollowed out Ice Cream Truck? Have you ever seen another movie that featured an Ice Cream Truck as a jail cell? Would you like me to dig deeper again? I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of a statement on the perversion of innocence. (I will leave it at that…)
· I forgot to mention that Sonny Boy almost finds love in the form of Rose (Alexandra Powers). This adds a note of tenderness is a nice break in between murder and mayhem.
· The story has a “savior” in the form of Doc (Conrad Janis). He is the only person (outside of Rose) that treats Sonny Boy with a shred of decency. He is also involved the magic realism of the ending that allows Sonny Boy to regain his speech. (That’s a minor spoiler, but not completely).
· Here’s one thing that I can tell no one has ever written about Sonny Boy before. The story is (almost) plausible, and could potentially happen. The movie was shot on location in both Demming and Columbus, New Mexico. I have driven through that part of the start, and seen the hovels people settle into there. Could one of them be housing a “Sonny Boy?” This reminds me of how Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs is also oddly credible. A serial killer with his own personal dungeon would totally be able to hide out in suburbia. (“It puts the lotion in the tin…”)

Is that sufficient enough for a review? No, not quite.

There is at least one thing that no one (outside of yours truly) will ever say about Sonny Boy.

Ask the Counseling Student: This Is A Fairly Intelligent Examination of the Dynamics of Childhood Trauma

I look at the headline above and wonder if this might become a reoccurring feature on the Playground.

What does this movie have to say about psychological damage?

The script (by Graeme Whilfler and Peter Desberg) offers a fairly concise explanation for the distorted thinking that leads to “Sonny Boy’s” abuse. The family dynamics, in the context of the story, have their own nightmarish logic. (This includes the ways that Pearl and Slue decide to play their “Mother” and “Father” roles. Slue is the aggressor, while Pearl is the silent enabler.)

They also make a (perhaps unintentional) statement about the long lasting effects of trauma. Sonny Boy, as previously mentioned, does get to talk again. What’s the problem? He still has no idea how to communicate due his trauma, and the quality of his life is totally screwed.

That is, from a therapeutic standpoint, the “unfinished business” that will hang him up if he doesn’t properly deal with it. (The bad news that I have learned in school is that nothing is ever truly “over” for us. The challenge comes in how we deal with our past.)

There is another wonderfully insightful thought that I have. (One more, I promise.)

What is the “quality” of watching Sonny Boy?

Here is one of my great-unrealized dreams as a makeshift movie critic. I would love to be able to describe (in a literal way) the total experience of watching a film. My initial thoughts would be recorded almost in “real time” as I gave my audience an inside commentary on what the movie is “really like.” I haven’t figured out a way to master that yet.

That said, I could tell you that I have been the victim of many disturbing dreams. The sort of ones where I wake up and say: “I wish I could forget that.” There is a certain mysterious element that Sonny Boy has that reminds me of those dreams. The intersection of: “Is this real?” and “Am I actually seeing this?” is where the movie hangs out in my psyche.

This is a “quality” that even the great David Lynch has only occasionally achieved.

The Final Ringing Endorsement for Sonny Boy

There are going to be two reactions to this review, or should I say warring factions? The people who have been deeply intrigued by what they have read, and the ones who have no interest in anything this “weird.”

Should you see Sonny Boy? The movie’s inherent perversity is going to turn off a vast majority of the audience. I would still say that my answer to that question is: “Yeah, probably so.”

Yeah, you should probably see Sonny Boy.

That, my friends, is the highest of praise from me.

The Playground Gets Ponderous: Why I Don't Just Love Donnie Darko

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 09 Jan 2015 19:12:00 +0000

(Editor’s Note: This is a longer, very specific piece about Donnie Darko. If you haven’t seen the movie, this is probably not the best thing for you to read. Many spoilers abound.)

This Is Not Meant To “Bait” Anyone

I want to make this important point at the very top of this piece.

For anyone who feels I am playing “devil’s advocate” or acting as a contrarian; I am not saying that Donnie Darko is “bad.” Nor will I ever say that I personally dislike the film.

What do I admire about it? All right, since I am jumping on a landmine, let’s get the positive stuff out of the way first. Fourteen years (wow) after its initial release, Donnie Darko still remains a distinctive and entirely unique entity. This is the only film I have ever seen that uses an imaginary psychotic rabbit, time travel, and a savage satire of the self-help movement to sensitively explore teen angst. The film is still visually striking, and impeccable from a technical standpoint. The performances from just about every cast member feel very genuine; there’s absolutely no “showboating” here.

I also find Donnie Darko to be the one movie that really nails what is it like to live in the suburbs. That would be the sense of vague dread that is well buried underneath the manicured lawns. You know what I am talking about if you have ever done a stint there. I even find it to be more accurate than the two acknowledged “classics” about the dark side of suburbia, Blue Velvet and American Beauty.

I totally understand why this movie is beloved by an ever-growing number of fans. I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that most of the fans are among “the young.” (I am in my mid-thirties, so I get to say that.) I wonder if would have a stronger connection with the movie if I had seen at a different time in my life. (This is something I that I will explore in much greater detail later).

And yet…

We’ll get to the “and yet,” but would you permit a small but relevant digression?

My Lapsed Affection for Pink Floyd’s The Wall

Let me paint you an autobiographical picture of a time when I was fourteen. (I promise that there is a tie here to the movie I’ve chosen to write about. That said, feel free to go clambering for the virtual exit if you don’t want to read Pink Floyd.)

I was in the process of flunking out of a militaristic, highly elitist private school. What was it like? Remember the school that Holden Caulfield flunks out of at the start of Catcher in the Rye? Sort of like that…the one ostensible difference was that I was allowed to leave at the end of the day and go home.

At the time, I had deluded myself into thinking that my failure was a highly developed act of rebellion. Looking back, I can now see it had much more with a fair amount of unhappiness and boredom. The adolescent brain lacks that sort of logical connection and thrives on any source of outside justification. What was that source of “outside justification?’

That would be the mystical, magical, and infinitely downtrodden world of Pink Floyd’s seminal concept album The Wall. Kids, there used to be these incredible things called Compact Discs…or as we said “CDs.” Even more unbelievable, there used to be a device called a “Walkman.” The Wall was part of a two CD set that went everywhere with me at the time. Why? Because I thought that I really had to absorb every single hidden nuance that Pink Floyd was trying to communicate with me.

Has it been a while since you listened to the album in its sprawling entirety? I mean outside of the “We Don’t Need No Education” refrain in daily rotation on the classic rock station. The thing is genuinely spooky, angst ridden, and dark; something an overly imaginative teenage kid can have a field day with. Roger Waters thought school smashed your soul, so why shouldn’t I follow his lead?

Here’s another crucial adolescent misstep; I identified with Roger Waters’ bloodletting so much that I assumed it had more substance than it does.

I eventually outgrew the album, and moved on to other things. I didn’t pay much attention to it until I became a bored office employee years later. (We had moved on to those new fangled “Ipods” that all the kids have these days. The more time I spent with my headset, the less time I had to invest in office squabbles.)

Then I really listened to The Wall again. Unfortunately, a new perspective was born…

Wait a minute. How can you sandwich race and homophobia into an indictment of the music industry? What is all this stuff about childhood disappointments have to do with non-conformity? (This is a link there, but it’s not exactly solid because it vanishes once you try to trace it). “The Wall” itself is still a powerful metaphor for isolation, but the “construction” seems to be horribly overwrought.

I thought the album was “about” something; but my aged prospective had discovered something of a Frankenstein monster. Roger Waters’ “vision” ends up collapsing underneath the weight of its ambitions and lack of follow through. (David Gilmour’s guitar solo in the middle of “Comfortably Numb” still kicks a fair amount of ass.)

Wait, weren’t we talking about Donnie Darko?

Yes, We Are Absolutely Still Talking about Donnie Darko

I am elaborately circling around what I see as the central issue with Donnie Darko.

Before that, I would like to assemble what I see as a fairly concise “nit pick” list:

· Donnie Darko Is a Completely Passive Character: I have a few formative writing teachers in my life that haunt me like ObiWan’s ghost. They would have had both of my nuts if I had handed in the script for Donnie Darko as a class assignment. Why? Because Donnie is not in the “driver’s seat” as a central character. That is because he makes all of his crucial decisions through the guise of Frank. That is an interesting conceit, but it renders everything Donnie does as not that important. Yes, I understand that he is a slave to fate, but I wish I could invest in the fact that he has some kind of conflict. He doesn’t even make much of an attempt to fight with Frank, but instead of numbly accepts his direction. How do you care about a character who is that emotionally castrated? The only decision that he makes comes at the end, and it renders everything he does as null and void. (This is foreshadowing for another issue that I have with the ending).

· This is Real Tragedy Here, But Its Not Dealt With: I would now turn your attention to the Jenna Malone character. She has a horribly tragic back-story about her father stabbing her mother. Richard Kelly drops this bomb on the audience, but what does he really feel about it? Is it just there for a bit of character shading? How does it help the character to develop or grow? It is just shock value? I don’t have the answer to any of these questions, because I can’t call Richard up and ask him. I would also point to the fact that what is happening to Donnie and his family is terrible and terrifying. That central story gets lost among time travel, Sparkle Motion, and discussions about Smurfette’s fuckability. This is all window dressing; I wish Kelly would have allowed at least one of his characters to stand up and say: “I’m scared shitless. Reality is crumbling around me in an incomprehensible way, and I don’t know what to do about it.” The closest we come to this is Drew Barrymore’s English Teacher character. She is at least can call out Suburban Hypocrisy when she sees it.

· The “Therapist” Character: Donnie does have a therapist, played by the ever-youthful looking Katherine Ross. There are nagging questions that I have about the Ross character. The first and most urgent one is: What the hell is she really trying to do? What is her therapeutic path for Donnie to follow as a patient? I have only a vague notion that she is attempting to get Donnie to recognize his delusions. But by using hypnosis as a way of doing it? That seems potentially dangerous to me if you are dealing with someone who is schizophrenic (which I believe the diagnosis for Donnie would be). There are other movies that deal pretty expertly with therapy (the two that come to mind are Good Will Hunting and Ordinary People.) In those cases, the therapist is a fully fleshed out character who behaves appropriately in context. The Ross character is every stereotype you’ve ever had of a shrink sandwiched into a clichéd Fruit Roll Up. How does that make you feel?

· The “Why Is That There?” Syndrome: Donnie makes direct reference to using time travel as a way to find God. Is that what he is really trying to do? The “Cunning Visions” Fear and Love axis is a fascinating piece of satire (especially when Cunningham is revealed as a monster). I just don’t know what it really adds to the world of the movie. Are the characters wrestling with love and fear, or is it just another form of denial? The Barrymore character scrawls out “Cellar Door” on the chalkboard as a final “fuck you” before she leaves the school. This time I googled it, and she was right about this being declared a linguistically perfect phrase. What does perfection have to do with the rest of the story? What is any of this stuff here? I’m still scratching my head about how it all adds up.

· The Ending: Remember what I said about Donnie being a passive character? The one thing that completely negates that is his decision to go through the wormhole at the end. That completely cancels out everything that has gone before it. That, my friends, has always pissed me off to no end. This is a highfalutin version of the “It Was All A Dream” ending that has become a dreaded cliché. What about the troubled kid that you just made me care about for two hours? Did he not even matter? I remember feeling waylaid by the ending the first time I saw the movie. There was still the “shock of the new” about the whole proceeding. This time I knew what was coming, and (to quote Johnny Rotten) I still felt cheated.

What is all of this building up to?

Richard Kelly Has a Case of the Roger Waters Disease

My central regret with Donnie Darko is that I didn’t see it when I was about sixteen. I would have had ample time (and sufficient angst) to explain away every detail in the same way I did with Pink Floyd lyrics.

I imagine that there are quite a few Darko cultists who have done just that. You are more than welcome to refute anything I say point by point. If this movie speaks directly to your wounded and broken heart, it is not my place to take it away from you. (I even feel slightly bad about the patronizing tone of that last sentence.)

The problem is that I was in my mid-20s when I finally saw this movie. Every attempt I make to analyze it causes the whole affair to tumble like a house of cards. I don’t think that it is a case of not having strong ideas. The problem is that there are too many of them, and they don’t just don’t gel in the end. This is similar to my experience with listening to The Wall as a grown up. This is what is known as “kitchen sink,” everything crammed into the same small space.

That’s not to say (as I did at the start) that the whole mess isn’t still as fascinating as it has always been.

I’ve seen Donnie Darko three times now and I’m still trying to figure out why it isn’t one of my favorite movies.

That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

Movies I Actually Enjoy: An American Werewolf in London

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sat, 03 Jan 2015 23:14:00 +0000

(Editor’s Note: There are inherent spoilers in here of American Werewolf In London. I suppose that I am “preaching to the converted.” If you are not one of the faithful, you should probably go see the movie first. If you don’t like the movie, may I persuade you? Should I even mention that I was on hiatus for a year? Nah.)

“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness…” –Samuel Beckett, Endgame

So What the Hell Am I Really Talking About?

I would like to boldly state my objectives for this piece at the very beginning. I am going to take a movie that some people might write off as inconsequential (An American Werewolf in London) and put it on a pedestal. (Yes, I know it has been deemed a “cult classic.” Why exactly am I in the cult?) I will also work to incorporate the film into my never-ending search for the Ultimate Dark Laugh.

There’s a few things I won’t do:

· I will not comment extensively on the famous “transformation scene.” (That is not to say that I won’t mention it at all; I just won’t write about in the usual way that film buffs cite the sequence. See my next bullet.)

· I am not going to worship at the Altar of Rick Baker. Yes, here is a brief history run down; Baker won the first Oscar for Outstanding Achievement in Make Up. (The award was virtually created for him as a result of the work in the movie. Just think; it opened the door for him to work with Eddie Murphy on Norbert.) The proof is in the pudding; just watch the flick and you can see that Baker’s work is ageless. I’m more interested how it works into the cumulative effect of the story. Would you like me to use a fancy college boy word? How does it become part of the central “Gestalt” of American Werewolf? (I just used Gestalt in a sentence. That’s at least got to be at least a triple word score in there somewhere.)

· What will be the big finish? I will be asking a central question all through this piece: How do we as human beings handle tragedy? What happens when a situation becomes so overwhelmingly awful that all you can do is laugh? I started off by quoting Samuel Beckett; maybe I’ll suggest to my readers to go listen to Sam Cooke’s take on “Blue Moon” after they read this.

The Circadian Rhythm of American Werewolf

I don’t just have all of these wonderful turns of phrases stored up in me. Before I wrote the above headline, I had to do some nerd research and see if I was using “Circadian Rhythm” correctly. The phrase is usually used in a biological sense; as your body and consciousness go in and out of full awareness. The purpose it serves in most of our lives is to give us the notion to go to bed and get some rest. (I say “most of us,” but it seems to exclude hopeless insomniacs like yours truly.)

How does American Werewolf begin? You are immediately introduced to Jack (the great character actor Griffin Dunne) and David (the “star who never was” David Naughton).

There are two important issues of note in the first ten minutes:

· Jack and David are not in any danger…as of yet. I say that with the knowledge that the first thing the driver who drops them off in the middle of nowhere is: “Beware the Moon.” Does that matter right away? I find it easier to forget that bit of foreshadowing as a member of an audience. Landis’ dialogue between the two boys sets up the foundation for the rest of the film. These two guys are old, old friends with a clear history of mutual respect. Combine that with the fact that Dunne and Naughton are about as charismatic as film actors can be. (Older readers will no doubt remember Naughton as the “I’m a Pepper, You’re a Pepper” pitch guy.) You just don’t want anything tragic to happen to them. This time around, I could almost visualize what an entirely different movie might have looked like sans Werewolf. (Picture a more intelligent version of Eurotrip.) The tragedy does indeed strike, but we’ll get to that.

· This is the first of Werewolf’s comic interludes. You have a few good natured laughs with the boys and then out of nowhere you arrive at “The Slaughtered Lamb Pub.” What happens there? The Werewolf motif is now writ large, and we realize that we are in the universe of the horror film. Creepy locals? Pentagrams etched in what looks suspiciously like blood on the wall? What about our lovable tramps? How do we feel when they leave the bar and we get to eavesdrop on the conversation?

I am not going to break down the entire movie scene by scene. I will instead just give a few examples of this bizarre “slap and kiss” pattern. (This is a bit of a “mash up” for those of you who know the chronological order of the movie. My memory of sequential events is hazy and I am often robbed of logical thought.)

Landis follows the brutal (and beautifully orchestrated) slaughter of an innocent man in the subway with David waking up naked in the park. (Who can forget the infinitely quotable line: “Mommy, a naked American man just stole my balloons?”)

I said I wasn’t going to get too close to the “transformation” sequence. What about the events that precede it? Landis gets much mileage out of a bored David wandering around the nurse’s apartment. Cue Credence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” with its apocalyptic lyrics and jaunty beat. The shock of the full body mutation is coming; we’re being prepped again. There is a moment to relax and watch as David searches the fridge and watches bad daytime TV.

As you can see, the circadian rhythm is giggle/horror/giggle again.

Remember David’s tragic last phone call home? This happens in a classic phone booth (remember those?) as David tells his sister he loves her. This has happened after David’s final surrender to his “Werewolf” identity. He then attempts to off himself after the conversation with the most incompetent of weapons: the Swiss Army Knife. (The formula here again is Poignancy followed by a Nervous Giggle.)

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention American Werewolf’s de facto “Greek Chorus.”

That would be Griffin Dunne’s performance as Jack; the undead best friend. Jack continually pops up just to remind David (and us) that fate is an inescapable bitch. Yes, Baker’s make up does come into play, as Jack grows more hideous. (“I didn’t mean to call you a meat loaf, Jack,” David howls as he transforms for the first time.)

Ardent fans of the movie will know the rules of the world. David’s victims become grotesque “undeads” that will never be free until he kills himself. Jack pops up to remind us that however much we enjoy ourselves, we are still watching a tragedy.

The relationship with Jack and David is very consistent. Once David adjusts to the horror of Jack’s appearance, they might as well be back in their dorm room.

(Another Landis zinger: “Have you ever talked to a corpse? It’s boring!”)

This has all been a precursor to an excuse to write about one of my favorite scenes in any film. No it’s still not the transformation scene.

The Porno Theater in Piccadilly Circus

When I was in high school, American Werewolf started receiving regular screening on (of all things) Comedy Central. The one absolutely “can’t miss” scene for me was staged unforgettably in a seedy porno theater. Jack (in his final stages of decomposition) summons David into the circus of moaning and groaning mixed with utter darkness.

David comes face to face with each of the people he has killed in werewolf form. A quick rundown; a few homeless men, the guy in the subway, and the cheerful couple are among the body count. They are all stuck in rotting purgatory until David is either killed or can make the decision to commit suicide.

Jack and David have one last bonding moment as they sit through a bit of the absurd porn parody See You Next Wednesday. “Good movie,” David sarcastically says.

The site in the porno theater is truly terrifying (as a collection of walking corpses should indeed be). The nervous laughter comes in when they start listing off methodology of suicide.

This is the scene that every screenwriting professor tells you to aim for as newbies. The emotional apex in which the lead character makes a crucial decision is here. That is all well and good, but what do I tune the most into?

Laughing in the Dark: The Real Resonance of An American Werewolf in London

I will give a gold star to the readers who have no doubt noticed two things.

I haven’t made a single mention of Jenny Agutter as the nurse Alex.

More importantly, I begin my essay with a quote by Samuel Beckett from his play Endgame.

Tragedy becomes comic when we (as human beings) don’t know how else to digest it. The urgency falls away, and the absurdity of the situation snaps into very sharp focus. (“This would be funny if I wasn’t busy crying” is the usual logic we employ). This film sits somewhere on the razor’s edge between the tragic and the comic.

This is what I believe Landis is getting at and why I feel like the movie works on the “Parable” level. Critics (including Roger Ebert in a two star review) have lambasted Werewolf as “uneven” because they don’t understand this point. Great horror ultimately should work on some other level with (prepare to gag) a lesson to teach. This one teaches us how to have a cathartic belly laugh at David’s expense.

The laughs are there to lighten up the tragedy. Alex is the lynch pen as she summons David the wolf to his death. Comedies end in marriage; and tragedies end in death. Alex is the last person who can’t save David, and there you go. She lures him into death instead of marrying him.

Our hero has been killed, and our hearts are broken. What plays on the soundtrack after the final fade out? The Marcels’ suspiciously upbeat take on “Blue Moon,” that comes complete with an exaggerated “Ding-a-Ding-Dang-a-Dang” doo-wop chorus.

“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness,” indeed.

And talking to a corpse is boring.

Interview with Novelist Christine Makepeace

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Tue, 02 Dec 2014 18:54:00 +0000

There are so many writers that have both a great desire and ambition to write a novel. How many of us actually do? More importantly, how many writers have the guts and ambition to get their stories out into the world? Christine Makepeace, an Austin based writer, has recently done both of these “bucket list” activities.

Christine's superbly written debut novel, Wake Up, Maggie, works both as a gothic horror novel and a deep character study of a troubled protagonist. Christine took some time off her busy schedule to answer a few questions.

Dusty: Christine Makepeace, who are you in a few short sentences?

Christine: I’m a libra. I enjoy movies, books, TV, media in general.I like chocolate and baby carrots. But not together. And I wrote a book. (Nice segue, huh?)

Dusty: What are some of your formative literary experiences? Favorite books?

Christine: I can honestly say my first memorable literary experience was getting in trouble in school for rushing through my work to read. What a weird kid! Really though, I was insatiable. I felt like this whole world was on pause until I could get back and press play again. I was a Christopher Pike gal growing up. Anne Rice. Stephen King. I dug the dark stuff. Older me still digs Pike. Bradbury and Matheson have been favorites. Shirley Jackson was a life changer. And comics.

Dusty: Moments that made you want to grow up to be a writer?

Christine: I don’t know if there are any moments that made me want to be, but there were thing that reaffirmed the desire. I just always loved telling stories and manipulating language. Writing makes me feel like a whole person. It’s euphoric.

Dusty: Tell us a bit about your background as a writer. What sorts of projects have you worked on which paved the way to your novel?

Christine: I dabbled in fiction when I was a teenager. Just goofy referential stuff mostly. I fell out of it for a while in my early twenties. And then my fires got stoked by film! And I started devouring essays and reviews and decided that I wanted to do that! And I was able to with Paracinema magazine for 5 years. It was fan fiction that really pushed me towards writing a book.

Dusty: You recently published your first novel; Wake Up, Maggie. Would you give us a short pitch?

Christine: Wake Up, Maggie is the story of a woman in a new home, and a new city, dealing with her past ghosts.It’s more of a character piece than anything else.

Dusty: Would you like to tell us a bit about your process for writing Wake Up, Maggie? Did you have a set schedule? Did you use any kind of outline, or did you just sit down and “go for it?”

I just went for it. I kind of had an outline for where I wanted it to go, but nothing was set in stone. I would sit down and write until I was finished. It was a very organic process. One I hope I’m able to replicate!

Dusty: What is your ideal audience for the book? Who would the book appeal the most?

I hope the answer to this is “lots of people!” I think the book has a couple different tones. It’s spooky and sarcastic and pop culture refereney. So I hope it has something for many different brands of readers.

Dusty: You have made the decision to self publish via the Kindle Store. What was the impetus for that decision?

Christine: No one else wanted to! I kid (sort of). I solicited indie publishers and agents to no avail. So, as with many things in my life, I got impatient and decided to do it myself.

Dusty: For those of us who don’t know; What is the process for publishing a book through Amazon?

Christine: It’s actually pretty simple. My main hurdle was getting the document formatted correctly. There are some quirks. Over all though, it was painless.

Dusty: This is probably on obvious question; However, what is your “PR” plan? How are you planning on getting the novel out there?

Christine: PR plan? You mean crossed fingers and good intentions, right? I’m anticipating a few reviews, and those should materialize in early 2015. I’m hoping to get some kind of presence on Amazon and hopefully get some traction that way. But no real hard-target plan.

Dusty: Full Disclosure: We know each other through an internet community which is mainly fixated on film. So I probably know the answer to this. Are there other projects you would like to promote?

Christine: Not really! I could start listing other people’s podcasts. Oh wait! I have a podcast. It’s called The Feminine Critique. You can find it on iTunes and junk.

Dusty: Similar to above; What sorts of movies are you into?

Christine: Horror is my main squeeze. But I’m pretty open. I tend to lean towards darker material, but that doesn’t guide all my choices. Hitchcock and De Palma are my favs.

Dusty: The question every writer dreads; What’s next?

Christine: I want to put out a book of short fiction, and then I don’t know! Hopefully something awesome.

Wake Up Maggie can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P06TS8Y

Interview with Carl Bachmann

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Fri, 24 Oct 2014 15:45:00 +0000

Preamble

I have a pet theory about “training” for filmmakers. Many film students who go to ritzy schools graduate and are a dime a dozen out in Hollywood. The people who do end up doing great work are artists who draw from a wide variety of skill sets. They don’t necessarily have degrees and diplomas, but they have grit and determination.

Filmmaker Carl Bachmann is one of these people. He has experience as a member of the US Navy, has traveled extensively, and discovered his passion for movie making organically. He had a consumer camera and began to make polished home movies that lead to him trying his hand at the real thing.

Carl has answered a few questions for us about the making of his first feature Party Slashers. Aspiring filmmakers, pay close attention to Carl’s answers about crowdfunding. His Kickstarter link is also at the bottom of the page; why not toss him a few bucks?

The Interview

Okay, Carl Bachmann, please tell us who you are in a few simple sentences.

I’m a US navy veteran, I’ve traveled to 36 countries, I’m a rugby enthusiast, self-taught filmmaker with an unrelated college degree, married to a stand-up comedian and living with a dog named Mr. Jeff Goldblum.

What are some of your formative film experiences? Was there a certain movie that made you want to grow up and be a filmmaker? What are some of the movies that you loved (and possibly still love?)

Some films that left lasting impressions on me were Fight Club, The Matrix, Alien, Apocalypse now, Ghostbusters, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and countless others, the list could go on. To me these tales were so unique and went against the grain in many regards. A lot of these movies were met with a lot of resistance by studios but the filmmakers truly believed in these stories and once the chance was taken to make them, turns out that they resonated with millions, including myself. I’ve always loved movies, but no movie made me want to become a filmmaker. I was working as a deckhand on a yacht in Malaysia, and I started chronicling my experiences, and made a little fake Pirates of the Caribbean type-trailer on a small digital consumer camera, and decided to share it with people. The positive response I got struck a unique chord in me, and I wanted to explore it more. If anything, I’d wish that it had happened before I went off to college so I could change my major!

What is your relationship with the horror genre? What excites you about working in that medium?

Horror, to me, explores a darker side of the human mind. It’s often a side that disturbs most people, and many people try to suppress it, but it is an aspect that is present in all of us. I think it is something that should be analyzed by everyone. What attracted me to the script of my first short film, Miracle on Metal Street, was that it revolved around a character who drew inspiration from a darker side of himself to create something beautiful. That’s also why I’m thankful for Halloween, because to me it’s a celebration of a darker side in people.

What excites me about this genre, is that it does not restrict itself of sensitive subjects or explicit material. It exploits it to the fullest degree, and exacerbates emotions such as fear or anguish in people that serves as a great reminder that it feels good to be alive! My reason for choosing horror-comedy though, is to mend my darker side with the important life-coping mechanism of comedy. The blend of comedy and horror emits a sense of absurdity, which is very central in my type of humor. To me it reflection of several absurd truths that are omnipresent in the world. Just read the news! I bet you can find several headlines that are the epitome of absurdity. It is a genre that is not fully explored and very hard to pull off, but it attracted me so much, and one big advantage of being an independent filmmaker is that we can express ourselves without being confined to marketing concerns to optimize box office revenue.

Will you tell us a bit about your filmmaking background up until this point? Are there shorts you have worked on? Was film school a part of your life?

My filmmaking is for the most part, self-taught. As I said earlier, my first experience was creating small digital films and comedic music videos with a digital consumer camera I had. That expanded to me taking one formal class for a semester, (intro to filmmaking) where they had us film and edit both in super 8mm as well as shooting little shorts with a Sony Handycam. It was a fun experience, I won a couple of awards at a small festival my school put on, but a lot of aspects in filmmaking were glossed over. I was itching to get more professional. Also during school, I was a production assistant in the art department in an indie feature film shooting in Oakland, CA, which was a horrible disorganized shoot, but was great because it taught me so much of what NOT to do! So after I graduated I moved down to LA and started freelancing on any film that would take me. The pay was low/non-existent, and the hours were long, but the experience was invaluable. I got quite a few gigs because I owned a pickup truck, which is great for transporting props/equipment. I freelanced in all different departments to learn and respect the separate crafts, which was quintessential to me being a more effective director. My other short, which has just wrapped up it’s festival run is Miracle On Metal Street, a dark-comedy musical about an introverted album cover artist, who runs behind deadline on a heavy metal album cover and is then visited by a bi-polar demon from hell to help inspire him make the best heavy metal album cover ever. In fact I’m offering the film to anyone who backs Party Slashers, regardless of how much they donate.

You are deep in the preproduction of your first feature Party Slashers. Give us the pitch!

Party Slashers is a Horror-Comedy about a Mr. Popular wannabe has to team up with his introverted ex-best friend for survival during a high school Halloween Party crashed by undead mass murderers whom were accidentally summoned during a Dungeons & Dragons game.

You are using crowd funding (specifically Kickstarter) to raise at least part of your budget. What is the biggest obstacles filmmakers face when crowdfunding?

Self-doubt and the doubt of others. But then try to imagine yourself settling for less in life. This will help you hold up your middle finger to these obstacles and march on.

Would you give us an inside scoop on what that process has been like? How is it going? How do you attract attention to a campaign? (My filmmaking readers will be fascinated…me included.)

The process is long and grueling, but exciting at the same time. Some people think that you can just put a project proposal up and have it be discovered by everyone and it goes viral and you get all this free money, but that’s not the case. My weaknesses in drawing funds from complete strangers is that I didn’t have A-list actors attached to this, I was not making something based on existing content with a built-in audience, nor did I have the amount of clout that some of these million dollar raising campaigns had. I had an idea, a vision and a drive. I knew that my content is my strongest selling point, so I had to show people as much as I could to have them be attuned with the content. That’s why I filmed a scene from the script so people had a better idea of what the tone of this film was like.

Once it was filmed I was anxious to get it online, and as soon as it was cut I originally wanted to give myself 2 weeks to get it ready. But I got cautious, read some literature about crowdfunding, and realized that there was so much I didn’t know! Many people state that you should be preparing months for a crowdfunding campaign. You have to develop a fan base to get people amped for the launch, establish a rapport with bloggers covering your genre, building marketing material, thinking up clever incentives (No one wants a damn mug, post card or pen featuring the film’s logo), that were desirable and at the same time didn’t eat into the money that you raised. Many projects don’t anticipate manufacturing and shipping costs of their rewards, and find out that a good portion of their budget is dissolved by reward costs. I spent a long time compiling a list of over 600 websites, bloggers, twitter/fb users that are horror enthusiasts.

The next hard part is cold-emailing people. This requires you to craft a clever and personal email that is concise but captures a person’s attention that is already committed to several other things. This is where the rapport can help you. I figured October was the best month to launch this thing considering the time of year, which is only half true. Yes, people are in the mood for horror, but most of the bloggers I’m trying to reach are in the mood for horror all year long! So in October, most of them are in hyperdrive and are consuming and posting so much content that is ALREADY MADE, which makes it difficult for them to pay attention to my project that may never be made. All I can do is be personal and genuine with them. There has been lots of ignoring, lots of rejection, but the more people I contact, the more earnest I am about myself, I will eventually find people who are interested in what I have to offer. Yourself included!

Then you launch it, and it becomes a full time job contacting people, blasting stuff on social media, etc. Sometimes it’s depressing that you have so far to go with your goal, amidst all the rejection, but then, you find your audience! People like your stuff, and they show support! This has been a bit of cycle so far during this campaign. But I roll with the punches, stay true to my vision and press on!

What are your plans beyond Party Slashers? (I know this is a somewhat obvious question, but indulge me…) Is there a dream project that you have? A script stashed away in your desk that you can’t wait to make?

Every director has to accept that they will put their time, money and soul into some projects, and it will never see the light of day. You accept this, and move on to the next project. My current objective is to build my audience, and expand myself beyond just the format of feature films. The current climate of motion picture entertainment is shifting rapidly with the changing behavior of how people consume content. Big game changers are streaming sites, youtube, mobile devices, and excellent video game content that can have you glued to your seat for months! I want to explore creating content for youtube, I want to continue making shorts, as well as explore other genres besides horror and comedy.

My lofty dream would either be directing a space odyssey (Kudos to Nolan for getting to this point) or a sci-fi adventure set in the realm of cyberpunk (What is that? Think Blade Runner). These are big budget dreams, so I’ve got some work to do in the meantime!

Anything else we should know about you?

I’m left-handed, people always seem to be stunned by that...I also speak Japanese.

Please help Carl realize his dream of making a feature.

The Kickstarter link: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1454237333/party-slashers-a-horror-comedy-see-test-scene

Jeremiah Kipp's "Mastermind"

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Mon, 11 Aug 2014 17:09:00 +0000

"Mastermind" by Jeremiah Kipp

If you’ve followed this site for a while, you have no doubt encountered the work of Jeremiah Kipp. He is an independent filmmaker based out of New York with a “can’t miss” visual style and a highly developed narrative sense. Kipp often takes big risks that pay off in interesting ways, and has an impressive body of work.

I don’t ever mind promoting his stuff. This is not “bally hoo” or hyperbole, but his new project has kept up his high level of quality. The project in question is a music video for Aaron David Gleason’s neo-soul track “Mastermind.” (It sounds like “neo-soul” to me…meaning that it’s a modern take on Sam Cooke crooning. Is that an adequate label for it? I don’t know).

There is a familiar face in the video; that of Mr. Chris Saradon. (The male lover from Dog Day Afternoon and the vampire from Fright Night.)

That’s slightly important, but I would put more emphasis on Kipp’s technique in this piece. He assembled what is very loosely a “story” to compliment the lyrics. Actors take turns mouthing the words in different, eerie contexts that stay with you. This is the darker side of Magic Realism, with a kick ass beat to boot.

In short, a most enjoyable way to spend three minutes.

Check it out here.

Interview with Luther Bhogal-Jones

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sun, 13 Jul 2014 19:53:00 +0000

Preamble

One of the unexpected pleasures of having this blog has been making contact with fellow independent filmmakers. Why? Because they are ultimately my brothers and sisters in the “struggle.” They are working to maintain their connection to creativity, and their own personal visions of what film should be.

That said, few people I have talked to are as honest as Mr. Luther Bhogal-Jones. Luther found me through one of the horror blogger communities. He inititally approached me about watching his short Black Spot. What is that? Imagine a Tarantino/Rodriguez “Grindhouse” inspired short…but without the smarmy irony. This is the work of a filmmaker that respected the genre enough to use intensity instead of jokiness.

Luther is fully aware that he has to work a day job, and get his stuff out however he can. (This means approaching writers like me and using whatever audience we have).

Luther provided very detail answers to my questions. Take a look, and then (most importantly) please follow the links to his samples of work.

Dusty: Mr. Luther Bhogal-Jones, please introduce yourself in a few simple sentences.

Luther: I've been making films in my spare time for 20 years – from college during a media course, to working full time since leaving college and continuing to make self funded films in my spare time. Life understandably gets in the way with a situation like this and when everyone is working for free/ expenses my films can take a long time to complete, so I'm not as prolific as I'd like to be!

Dusty: What were your formative film experiences? Favorite movies growing up? “A-ha moments” that inspired you to follow you the path that you are now on?

Luther: I'm not sure if they're formative film experiences – although I visited the cinema occasionally as a child once we got a VCR around 83/84 my exposure to film ramped up. My parents were pretty lax when it came to the films they'd hire out for myself and my older brother, so I sat through a lot of violent exploitation “trash” from an early age – films such as The Bronx Warriors and Atlantis Interceptors have always stayed with me, lots of 80s classics and not so classics.

Running tandem to this would be the films we'd be seeing on TV – Star Wars, “James Bond” films on Bank Holidays...

I guess these films became my favorites, but strangely some of my favorite films are musicals or musical based – Streets Of Fire, The Blues Brothers, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Little Shop of Horrors...

I don't recall any magical moment – there may have been a point during film making at college, editing on an analogue VHS edit deck and seeing some sequence come together, that really felt it flowed.

I sorta fell into film making, after lacking confidence in writing and being terrible at drawing – all I wanted to do was tell stories and film making was the next medium I fell into.

Dusty: You have your own production company; Faster Productions. Was this established for your to work on your own projects? Do you have a specific aesthetic that you are going for?

Luther: Faster isn't a proper production company per se, as this isn't what I do full time...I guess most film makers go under a production name to pretend to be bigger than what they are – it's certainly not something to produce other people's work as it's difficult enough to arrange my own films! There isn't a specific aesthetic to my work – I think everything since I returned to film making in 2006 has been stylistically diverse and I really like that. If anything, “Faster” has become an ironic name to work with, seeing as every one of my films seems to take bloody forever to finish...

Dusty: You approached Playground Of Doom to talk about Black Spot; an intense, ‘70s horror flick inspired extravaganza. We would love to hear about the genesis of this project, as well as the production.

Luther: The film was conceived as a “proper” narrative test for the cheap 3D camcorder I received as a Christmas present. I didn't want to invest too much time and money in it, as I had no idea how well the film would work with the limitations of the camcorder, so it was written around places I knew and things I had or could source easily. I'm not sure where the germ of the idea for the storyline came from, or why I decided to set it in a car – I think it may have been considering layers of depth upfront and so considering a location that would have a bit of depth and background to it. As the camcorder's 3D effect was apparently hampered in low light, I was probably also thinking it would have to be something predominantly set outside.

Although I hoped to shoot the film very early in 2013, the shoot didn't actually take place until around June time. I'd always wanted it to be a grey, desolate day but the UK weather is unpredictable to say the least, so there was no guarantee of that in January...then come the shoot it was a day of intermittent rain showers, but this did give me the grey, dreary look I wanted but thankfully without the low temperatures.

The most frustrating aspect of the shoot came from my issues with the camcorder battery – I mistakenly presumed I'd charged it fully when I hadn't. I also assumed (but hadn't checked) that I'd be able to continue shooting inside my car while the camcorder was connected and charging from the car's usb port – this turned out to be incorrect, so a vast majority of the shoot was spent sat in my car waiting for the battery to charge enough to continue, which added a new dimension of tension and urgency to the shoot and the performances from the actors.

Between the rain showers and the battery the filming over ran by about 3 hours but I'm pretty sure we did get almost all of the shots listed for the day. There was no sound or lighting crew, so in some regards shooting this was back to the freedom and from the hip film making from college and with the tiny size of the camcorder it was fun to get it in places where a normal sized camera would have never fit.

A couple of months later I'd shoot at a flat in Brighton for Paul's flashback – this was all improvised by the actors and took a few hours to do. The first edit had been completed with these shots waiting to be dropped in...

Incredibly one of the hardest aspects to film was the end title sequence with my wonky cardboard road signs – I had to return to the location several times as several factors continued to make the footage unusable and awaiting the right opportunity to shoot it never seemed to arise due to temperamental weather.

My original edit ran for around 7 minutes, then I cut this back to 5 minutes (including titles) as I was hoping to enter it into a film festival which I thought had a running time limit (I later found out it didn't!) but this version seemed to run too fast and felt almost incomprehensible to watch, even to those who had read the script and knew what was supposed to be happening!

I went back and gave the film some breathing space which resulted in the final edit.

The last aspects were the sound and grade – my grader had problems where everything he did to the footage came out in the wash during the process to 3D, resulting in much of his work not being very apparent. The composer/ sound mixer was particularly meticulous and we had to adr (additional dialogue record) every aspect of the film as all the sound on the in-camera mics was unusable. He was so meticulous he scored the film twice – after hearing the film with almost complete sound design, he decided the score wasn't quite right and went back and recorded a new one!

(Editor’s Note: For any filmmakers reading this, this is a very logical and practical approach to making a movie.)

Dusty: Black Spot is available in two different versions. One of them is in 3-D. Was the movie shot for 3-D and how are you planning to use this technology?

 As above, the film was conceived as a test for the 3D camera so would have never existed if it wasn't for the camera. I'd love to do another 3D film but it's doubtful I'd use this camera again as it is, though I have had a particular idea I need to try out to see if it work, but apart from that and with no funds for a next level HD 3D camera I don't think I'll be doing another film in 3D in the near future.

Ironically I hoped that the 3D element would be the thing that set the film apart from the multitude of other horror shorts available to view on the internet and to some degree it has, but I've been amazed how many horror bloggers haven't had a pair of red/ cyan glasses to view it as I presumed it would almost go hand in hand. At the time of writing the 2D version has had more than twice of the red/ cyan 3D and stereoscopic 3D versions put together, which seems to suggest that the criticisms against 3D and the lack of public interest may well hold some weight.

(Editor’s Note: That is because we can’t afford the glasses. I can’t speak for my horror blogger comrades, but I’m broke ass poor.)

Dusty: You’ve done an interesting and brave thing. You have reached out to the horror blogosphere to help promote your projects. (Even lazy writers like me who take forever to get interview questions to you). How are you planning to use social media as a filmmaker?

Luther: I'd like to think it's not that interesting or brave – I'd presume that many filmmakers in a similar situation/ level as me would do the same. I don't have any spare money for marketing, nor to enter it to film festivals that charge entry so this seems a free and targeted approach to help promote myself and the film. I previously approached the horror blog community when Creak was finished and had a really encouraging response that time, so that spurred me on to approach a wider range of horror bloggers this time round as well as go back to those who supported me previously.

I do get the impression that some bloggers are sometimes at a loss of what to post and feel the need to have new content as often as possible, so being handed something on a plate, whether they like it or not, is a good thing to have. I've also found that no response back isn't to be taken as a lack of interest, as quite a few bloggers never received my initial email and I've gone back to several chasing them for a feature, which has finally resulted in some belated posts.

(Editor’s Note: Oh, really…guilty as charged, unfortunately.)

I've perhaps been a bit more thorough this time with the bloggers I've contacted, keeping tabs on who has posted what, responses back etc but the information I've sent out has also been much more thorough – with CreakI was using the advice from Chris Jones of Living Spirit Films fantastic advice for press releases, FAQs etc to promote your films and with Black Spot I followed his advice much more closely and it seems to have resulted in a better response.

I'm not in marketing, so the press release and all the marketing materials are written by myself, but as many bloggers have pretty much placed what I've sent them up as a post verbatim I like to think that might be because I've written a solid press release...though I do miss the personal touch!

As for the social media thing I don't that it's working that well for me – despite probably around 50 blog posts for Black Spotacross the world I've not seen a massive uptake in Twitter followers, nor Facebook followers – and I don't really know how to create a particularly big upswing unless some super large scale horror site gets on board with it, but even with the expected 2% response back it's not going to result in a mega increase.

I guess Twitter followers are growing organically and slowly, but I struggle with the profile that you're supposed to keep up (if you read any How To Succeed At Social Media type guides) as those channels are only maintained during spare time and I don't see the point in spamming out some inspirational quote you've cribbed from 101 Inspirational Quotes To Use On Twitter To Keep Your Profile Up etc.

Twitter seems great at starting or even joining in conversations with people, but there's also a horrible white noise aspect to it – if you're being followed by someone with 25k+ followers, realistically what is the chance of them seeing your post, promoting it, sharing it? Hmmm...

Gallingly, despite the great response from the blog community it still hasn't brought in that many views per post – I saw a friend was involved in a 48 hour sci-fi film challenge in the UK and within 2 days that film had received more views than Black Spot had received in 4 months online and with all the blog support. Frustrating, but at least if someone did search online for myself and the film there's plenty of posts out there, so it has a presence, if not the views...

But as I said, Twitter is brilliant at starting conversations with people and as a free facility to a film maker it's a fantastic tool, perhaps I'm just not using it right!

(Editor’s Note: If it helps, I’m not sure there is a “right way” to use social media or the blogosphere. I have been incredibly surprised that I have gotten any responses at all to this site…or my films. I think you’re over the hump just by trying.)

Dusty: You have other short films currently making the rounds at film festivals and the blogosphere. Would you tell us about Creak, The Crunch and Stranded?

Luther: Well, none of them are doing the rounds as such. The Crunch, which has always been a marmite film, had a few screenings at film nights (not festivals) for a few years after it was finished, but always seemed to get a wall of silence afterwards – quite uncomfortable! I got suckered in with Stranded as some people who saw it initially genuinely thought this was going to be the film that would take my career up a ladder and help me towards making a living doing this, but the response back from film festivals was nothing, so again, apart from a few film nights and being online it hasn't done anything, which was a massive disappointment to me.

After the failure of both those films with the festivals, and the lack of money to send anything to festivals, Creak was always intended to go straight online and to hell with premiere rights that some festivals demand. I think I made the right decision and that's what I intend to do with most of my short films in future.

Creak at least had a market I could target with the horror bloggers, but there are no bloggers that cover psychological/comicbook/drama/noirs, nor any that specialize in melancholic coastal dramas. Outside of genre bloggers, general film bloggers don't seem very interested in short films, preferring to concentrate on commercial releases for reviews and analysis, either the art house or mainstream end, so I couldn't promote these films in the same manner I presented Creak and Black Spot to blogger. As far as I'm aware there's been no coverage for them online that I recall.

I still continue to submit those films to screenings where I can, but as time goes on there's less opportunities to give them an airing.

(Editor: As you and I both know, Vimeo is a wonderful thing!)

Dusty: What is your ultimate “dream job” as a filmmaker? Is there a project that you hope to someday make?

Luther: Hmm, well, as an English director I guess I've always joked it'd be great to do a Bond film and relive those Bank Holiday Monday transmissions for real. As a big fan of the comic 2000AD a dream project would be to turn Zenith into a movie – the first chapter is pretty concise with a self centered 80s pop star fighting a resurrected Nazi super soldier with the assistance of his parents' aging washed up superhero friends. It's one of my all time favorite comics...and probably something like Halo Jones (which would cheese Alan Moore off yet again) or Strontium Dog – all which I could see working so well on the big screen. Anything along those lines would be incredible.

I'd love to do a Phillip K Dick adaptation – I have a soft spot for We Can Build You and Clans Of The Alphane Moon, though the latter would probably be a hard sell.

Or Bronx Warriors 3, if Enzo Castellari wants to pass the mantle to me. Or a sequel to Streets Of Fire, if Walter Hill would give me the scripts to the further adventures of Tom Cody!

(Editor’s Note: I hate to break it to you…but Albert Pyun made a quasi-sequel called to “Streets” called Road to Hell. The thing barely got a release, though…so that works in your favor.)

Dusty: What’s next?

Luther: I'm in post production on two films – Pick-Ups is an awkward comedy drama short which I've just done some previews of and got some good laughs, which is really encouraging and hopefully that should be complete in the next few months. I've also had some really good news this week which means my 15 minute fantasy thriller Goodnight, Halloween could be coming closer to completion – it's required some reshoots that I've been unable to do and these now look like they could happen in the next month or so. I've always described it as The Diary of Anne Frank meets Clive Barker's “Nightbreed,” set in an alternative 1986 Detroit where Halloween creatures, that exist alongside mankind, have been outlawed by the right wing Christian government.

I'm in the middle of shooting Sincerely, Psychopath 2 which was to be called “Knock Knock,” but seeing as there's at least two features being shot with that name I think it'll be going through a name change – that's a real homage to Mario Bava's Drop Of Water from Black Sabbath, as well as elements from Argento's Opera (Daria Nicolodi at the door and her demise) and the final of Tenebrae...but I'm hoping for some of the playful madness from Hausu to creep into it too.

With the SFX contact making the reshoot of Goodnight, Halloween a reality it's really opened up the next two Sincerely, Psychopath shorts I want to make – one is basically a big fight between two bird humanoid creatures in a forest, as wafer thin plot wise as Black Spot but should be striking looking and memorably odd, then a more splat-stick horror short that I think I've got a pretty interesting angle on to make it stand out.

Naturally long term I'd love to do something feature length – I've got a strong idea of a feature film following the MacKenzie family from Black Spot, I've got a treatment for a commercial monster movie that I think could tick some right boxes and I'd really, really love to do a giallo around Worthing where I live, something coastal, and again I think I've got an interesting take on that harkening back to the past of the giallo genre, but coming to terms with the present.

Links:

Faster Vimeo (featuring Black Spot): http://vimeo.com/fasterproductions

Faster's Production Blog: http://www.fasterproductions.blogspot.com

Interview: Mark Pellington

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 18:51:00 +0000

Mark Pellington (Or What This Interview is About)

Let’s begin with a brief story; imagine me as a nineteen-year-old college kid driving around looking to kill a few hours on Monday night. (Actually, don’t do that, I was somewhat of an unsightly youth.) The clock on my dashboard radio read: “10:00” and I found myself in front of a movie theater. This was not exactly a hot spot on a Monday night (and in some ways I am surprised they were showing movies at all). I wandered up to the ticket booth and plopped down some cash for a movie called Arlington Road.

A funny thing happened on the way to the theater; I found myself sitting completely alone in a space full of a good 150 seats. The lights were starting to dim, and I was still the only theater patron in what would prove to be a first. How many movie theaters have you had at your complete disposal? This was just the ambience before the main attraction; Arlington Road.

Some people might say that Arlington Road falls into the standard Hollywood genre known as “thriller.” The film focuses on Jeff Bridges as a college professor who slowly begins to suspect his rather innocuous neighbors (Tim Robbins and Joan Cusack) of terrorism. Arlington Road, however, is more of an exercise in ghostly subtlety.

The suburban setting looks haunted, and is shot in rich color that is combined with an intricate sound design. The viewer is constantly being pressed to ask: “Am I watching a story about reality? And how do I know what to trust?” There were themes of isolation, grief, and dread. I didn’t know much about film at nineteen, but I did assume these elements were directorial flourishes.

The empty movie theater? That was only the perfect container for the filmic experience I just had.

I was then able to connect Mark Pellington’s name with the iconic Pearl Jam video “Jeremy.” Everyone in my age group (mid-30s) remembers that video on heavy rotation. I can perhaps fully credit it with making me wonder how a simple collection of images could “build” and have resonance. Could I see a connection between the video and Arlington Road? Rich colors, isolation, dread…

Lone (Chelsea Wolfe)

The second part of this story starts when I found a message in my inbox from Mark Pellington. He had recently completed a short film featuring a musical artist named Chelsea Wolfe. The project wasn’t quite a feature at 52 minutes. That said, it was clearly something well beyond your standard four-minute music video. Would I be interested in taking a look?

Before we move on, let’s talk about the experience of watching Lone. The best kinds of cinematic experiences (for me) invent their own logic and create a world. The Lone viewer watches as Wolfe (a striking screen presence) moves from one charged scenario to another. There’s an elderly man, bodies on gurneys, an empty theater, lush soundscapes…and then there are the moments when Chelsea breaks the fourth wall and sings.

Lone is not a narrative; this is a deeply felt, personal experience for anyone who has a chance to view it. I got the feeling that I was a collaborator with both Pellington and Wolfe as a viewer. They were supplying me with images and sound that I was allowed to make my own meaning out of. As with the most interesting pieces of art, the viewer arrives with his or her own experience and contributes to the dialogue.

My 13 inch lap top hardly did justice to the cinematography. What would be the ideal space to view Lone in? Remember that empty movie theater that I first saw Arlington Road in? I say blow Lone up as big as life, and let the audience be lucky enough to find it.

Mark Pellington Part Two (Or The Conversation)

The third part of this story happens after Mark and I started trading e-mails. I mentioned that I occasionally did interviews, and was wondering if I could talk to him.

Specifically, I wanted to know:

1. What was the process of making Lone? How were decisions made?

2. How did the making of Lone compare to working in the studio system?

3. What was the next step for something like Lone? How do you the thing out into the public eye?

I did about an hour of research on Pellington’s site before we spoke. The over all impression that I gained was that Pelington’s was equally comfortable switching between “personal projects” and work in the mainstream. More importantly, though, the emphasis is much more on the intuitive and creative process of the medium.

How does Lone fall into that path?

Pellington informed me that the best way to answer this question was to start at the beginning. He chooses five of Wolfe’s songs from her current album to work with. The next step is to begin a full tilt collaboration. Pellington asked Wolfe to write down every image she associated with each song. After that, Pellington began to write a script and create a shot list to be used during the shoot.

“The goal was to make something that was deeper, more subconscious, “ Pellington said.

Pellington did borrow a trick from his friend Cameron Crowe for this particular project.

“You always have an idea of what your first and last shot are,” Pellington said “That allows you to shape the rest of the movie.”

The shoot took all of four days, and utilized a budget that Pellington estimated at $45, 000. What does that sort of schedule allow you as a filmmaker?

“Freedom” was the word that came up again and again. Pellington told me that his favorite projects are the ones that allow him to “smuggle” personal material into them. This doesn’t happen as often on a higher budget production that is loaded with expectations from a studio. Low budget productions allow a filmmaker a chance to do “what feels right.” The Chelsea Wolfe project was no different, as he recounted a moment that happened towards the end of the shoot.

“We both looked at each other,” Pellington said “and I said ‘Thank you for letting me do this.’ Chelsea seems to have felt the same. The project allowed both of us to expose ourselves in a safe way.”

Was this a catharsis? It sounds like one to me.

What’s next for Lone?

Pellington spoke about the contradictions of the project; the fact that is it not quite a feature, and yet is very much a short film. What lessons are to be learned for next time?

“My favorite movie of the last two years is Under the Skin,” he told me “That was a case of getting a recognizable name (Scarlett Johansen) attached to an experimental project. That gives the filmmaker a greater chance for visibility, not to mention funding.”

The foundation for a future project is already percolating in Pellington’s head. Why not expand the next musical film to 70 minutes? Why not try to attract a “name” to interact with the musical artist?

Lone will be available to the public eventually. (At the time of our talk, Pellington was attempting to figure out the specifics of licensing the video for iTunes).

The Moral of the Story

I would like to end with a lesson that Pellington taught me (unbeknownst to him).

“This is a time when filmmaking has become democratized,” he said “You can create the work, and then build your audience. I love it! I’m just going to keep creating stuff and doing these smaller projects. Teaching myself IMovie is next.”

If you’ve read Playground of Doom for any amount of time, you have no doubt encountered some of my misadventures in the filmmaking trade. I come from a generation that sincerely believed we were going to be able to work creatively and get paid handsomely. Those “rock star dreams” (and their dissolution) have made us forgot about why we wanted to create in the first place.

Catharsis, personal expression, diving into the subconscious…isn’t that the real incentive for making movies?

Create the work, and then build the audience. Do it for yourself.

Thanks, Mr. Pellington.

Mark Pellington's Official Website: http://www.markpellington.com

Interview: Galia Barkol

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Mon, 07 Apr 2014 22:20:00 +0000

Preamble

Gaila Barkol might very well represent the image that we all have of a “renaissance person.” What would lead one to draw that conclusion? Take a look at the list of diverse interests covered in the interview questions below. There’s classical music, the French language, acting, and (finally) film production; all skills that Galia has at her disposal. She spent some time talking about both her past and upcoming projects with us recently.

Dusty: Your first passion appears to be acting. Can you tell us your history with the craft? What first hooked your interest? What kind of training have you had?

Galia: It is indeed my first passion, but it took me about a decade to admit it. I used to be the shy girl, with a rigid classical piano training and undeniable urge to move in space. Film and acting came later, when I began to realize the immense potential in those art forms. Briefly, I went to Paris to study Film at the Paris-Diderot University. My French education was beyond what I could have hoped for. So rich, profound and insightful. I am very grateful for that gift. But life in Paris was challenging for me as a very young foreigner alone, and when I got just enough of the existential suffering to feed my romantic fantasies, I was ready to move on. I applied for a Franco-American student exchange program (despite being neither), and got in. I was sent to New York and graduated there. Needless to say, the American education system is as different as can be to the French. The great thing was that I was allowed to take acting courses, which I did, and got to do more hands on work, both behind and in front of the camera. When we had the end of year screenings at school, my Production teacher took me aside and said there was something intriguing and unique about my relationship with the camera and that I should think about going deeper into acting. After a year or so of exploration of various approaches and teachers, I finally went to HB Studio for a 2-year conservatory program. I studied with amazing teachers and actors, and discovered that acting is both more spiritual and intellectual a craft than I’d imagined. In the process of relearning yourself as a human being (and the attempt to unlearn much of the rest), you become a more compassionate and mindful person.

Dusty: As many creative professionals have done, you have seized control of your career as a performer by stepping into the producer role. I am assuming that this was a move which allowed you some creative control over the projects you chose to work on. Could you tell us a little more about wearing the "producer" hat? What was the impetus for that decision?

Galia: Two things. First, I’ve had some good experience in the production world, working for two major Israeli companies, so it didn’t scare me as much. But from an actor’s perspective, it was a way for me to take control over my work. Starting out as an actor is tricky, and it can be very discouraging. What often happens is that you find yourself auditioning for anything you are called in for, even when you don’t really want to do it. Something in your thinking changes, and you are left with wanting to be liked. You depend on others completely - the type of role you’ll play, the quality of the footage and post, the story that is being told… and you’re often not getting paid. That’s a lot of effort and frustration for very very little. I don’t rule that out, but I carefully select what I apply for today. So, since I don’t like the feeling of being passive and reactive in my work, and since I have a background in writing and film, my natural inclination is to create my own content.

Dusty: Would you give us an elevator pitch for your 4 Variations on a Theme?

Galia: With this project, a group of collaborators was invited to isolate and reexamine the cinematographic components that reveal and portray characters and their universe. The focus was on exploring the range to which one sequence can be stretched, to see how elastic it can become when adjusted to viewers' interpretations. The footage consisted of a 4-minute silent sequence, following our protagonist as her day unfolds. It was then sent to 4 writers of different backgrounds, nationalities and styles, who each came up with a script. With no defined boundaries and directions, the writers followed where the footage took them. Each version was then matched to a different composer who wrote a score for it. We ended up with 4 completely different short films, made with identical footage.

Dusty: Tell us about the 4 writers. How were the scripts selected? I’m assuming that the footage was shown to the writers in advance?

Galia: Yes, the writers saw the footage and had to write a script to go with it. I left it completely open, as long as the content was triggered by what they viewed. The writers were selected in advance and I trusted that their scripts would be interesting, so there was no selection afterwards. I contacted very different people who I’d known on very different levels. Roy Ben Shai is a good friend who is not in the film business at all, but a brilliant philosopher and fascinating person with a very independent thinking. Yael Nussbaum I'd known very little and only heard about her work, and I was blown away by her sharp writing and interpretation of the piece. Justin McElwee is a dear guy who made me laugh like no one else at a random party in Brooklyn. Thanks to Facebook, I was able to hunt him down and make him write something for me. Chris Bentley had sent me an interesting script before, for another project, and I was glad for the opportunity to finally work with him.

Dusty: Tell us about working with Director Jeremiah Kipp (we’re fans around here).

Galia: Well, I don’t know how he does it but he does it all and at the same time. I’m certainly a fan too, although following his work is getting really challenging! He was really the best. He brought extraordinary people to the set - Andrea Urbinati the DP, who made the footage look absolutely beautiful, Brian de la Cruz and Alex Gavin, who held it all together and made it work, and super charming actor Lucas Rainey. Working with Jeremiah on the production aspects was a wonderful experience because he was responsive, helpful and thorough and, of course, very experienced. As an actress, I appreciated his style, taste and direction very much, and his openness to wherever the moment took us. He’s also the sweetest guy, as you know. I’d be thrilled to work with him anytime.

Dusty: Is there any other projects you have in the works? What’s next for you, Galia?

Galia: I’m currently co-writing a narrative feature with Jay (Yair) Vilnai, to be produced in late 2014. Preproduction is planned for early June. Jay wrote the score for the first film of “4 Themes on a Variation” (“Justin & Jay”), performed the VO for the second (“Yael & Izzy) and recorded the sound for all the voice overs. Since everything he touches turns gold, I forced him to collaborate on this one, and it’s a very interesting journey we’re on. A woman's life as she's known it ends abruptly, which pushes her to remove herself from her immediate environment. In her last attempts to see if she could reinvent herself or her take on life, she moves to Paris. An encounter with a frequent visitor to the city turns into an unusual kind of relationship which allows her to look at things from a slightly different angle.

Links:

Galia’s Official Site: http://galiabarkol.com/

Her Production Company: http://ringthebellsproductions.com/

The Playground Gets Ponderous: Remakes, Sequels, and Retreads...Oh My

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Wed, 02 Apr 2014 19:49:00 +0000

(Editor's Note: Freelance writer Kate Voss has contributed this tasty assessment of Hollywood's continual unoriginality. Thanks for the guest post, and take it away, Kate!)

2014 Movie Remakes & Adaptations

Every movie buff already knows that Hollywood has a knack for rehashing ideas in their new movies. While this has been a common practice in Hollywood for years, it is becoming even more of an occurrence as time passes. Already, 2014 is looking like the year of the remakes, adaptations or sequels and it’s kind of unsettling.

Many people have tried to speculate why Hollywood is so infatuated with revamping old stories into new movies, but it simply comes down to money. Movie studios are more interested in making money than anything else, and it is a lot easier to make money with a remake, adaptation or sequel. Millions of people have to be interested enough in a movie in order for it to make a profit at the theaters, and this is simply easier to achieve when dealing with an existing fan-base. If a book or original movie is popular enough, then there are already going to be millions of fans interested in seeing a movie adaptation, remake or sequel. This installed fan base ensures that people are going to flock to the theaters when the movie is released, which gives the movie studio more financial confidence.

There continues to be great original movie ideas every year, but it is becoming increasingly harder to get these films made. Two of the best films in 2013, Her and Nebraska, were completely original ideas not based on history. They have a combined 11 nominations at the Academy Awards, but they still barely made enough money to be profitable for the studios despite relatively low budgets. If some of the best original movie ideas of last year could barely make money, it doesn’t bode well for originality. And what happens when originality goes out the window? Remakes, adaptations, and sequels…oh my.

A revamped movie idea has the ability to become a box office smash when it is turned into a great film. Not only do the diehard fans of the franchise show up, but the film is also able to attract new fans. 2014 may be the year of the rehashed movie idea, but at least some of them appear like they will be excellent films. The top five revamped movies of 2014 are as follows:

22 Jump Street has the distinction of being a sequel of an adaptation. The first film was one of the biggest surprise hits of 2012, but the new film seems like a guaranteed hit. 22 Jump Street (which you stream on Direct-ticket.net and Netflix) stars Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum as they go undercover in a college to bust a drug ring.

The Purge: Anarchy is a sequel to the 2013 horror hit The Purge, but with a completely new cast. The film follows two parents as they attempt to get home safely during the purge after being stranded. The ability to see the horror from an outside perspective during the purge should be very appealing to fans of the first film.

Divergent is a film adaptation of the highly popular young adult book series by the same name. The film takes place in a future dystopian Chicago that forces people to live in factions based on their personalities, but it may ultimately be a plot by the government.

Angelina Jolie stars in the dark re-imagining of "Sleeping Beauty" in Maleficent. This type of re-imagining has already worked with "Snow White and the Huntsman" and "Alice in Wonderland," so it would be shocking if people did not flock to see a new version of the Disney classic.

All of the Marvel movies have become massive hits, so the same should be true for Captain America: The Winter Solider. The film follows Captain America following the events of The Avengers as he attempts to save the world from a crazed madman that happens to be his former best friend.

With all the remakes, it’s no wonder movie theaters are struggling, prices are skyrocketing, and more folks are inclined to stay home and watch the original. After all, why put money in the pockets of greedy execs when the original, first version is probably not only better, but less expensive to see?

Movies I Actually Enjoy: (Static)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Sat, 25 Jan 2014 22:21:00 +0000

(Editor’s Note: I’m not sure who the audience for this piece is. The five people who have watched Static? If you are one of those, then welcome. I have found my people at last.)

The “Roadmap” For This Entry

A voice from the “future”: I have just read over what I have written and realized that it lacks any kind of cohesiveness. I decided to devise a list of objectives (a way of finding my own ass in the dark without a flash light).

I am going to talk about Static (1986) as a statement on insanity. Specifically, how much “crazy” are we comfortable with in everyday life? When do we turn our backs on someone who we feel has crossed over the line from “lovably goofy” to “needing help?”
I didn’t say this is going to be a linear list of objectives, so let me back track. Before I get to my assessment of Static, I am going to give my audience (all two of you) a look into how I select movies to write about. (Have you ever read about PT Barnum? He used to promise people they’d see a Unicorn, and it would turn out to be a goat with a cardboard cone on its head. This is going to be a bit like that.) This will naturally feed into why I chose to write about Static. I will also talk a bit about “smart blogging” and why I don’t do it.
As I said, this isn’t linear, so: After my thoughts about insanity in Static, I will talk about why it succeeds as a film. I will use hyperbole and ballyhoo such as: “This is the great cult classic without a cult...one of the best films of the ‘80s...a film that speaks to me personally...but it should speak to everyone else too!” That sort of film nerd ejaculatory bullshit.
There are standard things that I should include in this review. You know: plot summary and a description of the characters would be helpful. I will attempt to sprinkle that on like salt on French Fries.
I am also going to speak more about “the script that drove me insane.” (See my Crown International entry.)

Are you still here?

The Method Behind My Madness

As I sat down to begin the “hashing out” process of this review, I had a strange and self indulgent thought. I have never explained why exactly I choose to review the movies that decorate this obscure little corner of the internet. I remember the one time I ever attempted to read Nietzshe. He wrote an entire book about why he was so clever, relevant, and insightful. Nietzshe was leaving it behind for generations to discover that: “Hey, this dude probably shouldn’t have died in obscurity with a bitchin’ case of syphilis.”

I’m not going to go as far as to write an entire book...maybe just a paragraph. So here it goes!

My philosophy for Playground of Doom is simple: I attempt to sound like the guy on the next bar stool over. The passionate film geek who has no problem pontificating on different colors of movie blood used in ‘70s Hammer Horror films. There is no reasonable explanation for why the guy cares so much about an abstract bit of minutia. You might not listen to everything he pours out of his soul. You might not agree with it. Still, you leave the joint with an odd hankering to sit down and watch The Satanic RItes of Dracula.

The opposite of that (and what I like to call “smart blogging”): Many standard movie blogs have an exceedingly narrow focus. You want to write about the films of Ingmar Bergman? That audience is now yours through the magic that is search engines. You love movies based on Stephen King Novels? The King legions will find you, and you’ll have a “successful” blog.

That doesn’t quite mesh with my man at the bar, though. He has a very personal relationship with films, and only talks about movies he gels with.

He is the blogging version of the priest in “Eleanor Rigby.” Look at him working, writing a sermon that no one will hear...

But you know what? Damn it, he made at least one person seek out Static.

Oh, this was supposed to be a review of Static. Please let me adjust accordingly and we’ll come back to that.

(I was serious before: Is anyone still reading this?)

Why I Chose to Write About Static (1986) part one

There is a reason that I went to such a painstaking effort to introduce Static. (“Painstaking effort” only looks like “avoidance,” please bare that in mind.”)

Allow me to conjure up my “character,” the man at the bar who starts to rant about Static. Here he goes:

“Have you seen Static, the Keith Gordon movie? What? You need to track that down. It’s the cult movie without a cult. One of the best films of the ‘80s...and no one has seen it. Oh, I have to tell you what it’s about? All right: here’s the pitch. This lovably goofy guy, Keith Gordon as Ernie, loses his parents in a car crash. So he develops this top secret invention: I almost don’t want to spoil it for you...but it’s a TV set that broadcasts a live signal from Heaven. He keeps hoping to see his Mommy and Daddy.

Oh, did you just check out? No, no, this isn’t some bullshit movie you see on that Religious Over the Air channel at 2 a.m. Ernie only claims that it broadcasts a clear image of Heaven. Everyone else only sees snow...or more specifically Static. There’s an inherent metaphor in the title...a crazy person is capable of seeing anything they want to. So called sane people only see ‘static.’

What do you mean you and your friend are leaving? You’re getting a drink somewhere else? I haven’t even told you about Amanda Plumber as Julia...she is (I think) an old flame of Ernie’s. Holy shit, there’s this great opening to the movie...you see, Julia is a keyboardist who flips out on stage. She just walks off in the middle of a rock concert...it’s fucking great.

Here, let me walk you to the door. I still have to tell you about Ernie’s cousin Frank, played by Bob Gunton. He is this crazy pseudo preacher! Have you ever read Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood? He’s like the central character in that book; except he believes that World War III is coming. Frank lives in an honest to god bomb shelter...he gives his kids hazard suits and gas masks for Christmas.

They sit around and watch the fucking TV wearing hazard suits!

Can I at least call you sometime? I could tell you about how Static perfectly utilizes The The’s classic “This is the Day.” It’s says so much about the emotional state of the characters! Ernie is deluded enough to believe that this faulty invention will change his whole life. ‘This is the day/You’re life will surely change..’

Did I mention that he works in a goddam crucifix factory? He steals them off the assembly line! Wait, do you know the The The song?”

Our man starts to sing as the girls leave the bar:

“‘You didn’t get up this morning/Because you didn’t go to bed/You’ve been watching the whites of your eyes turn red...”

This should go without saying: our man doesn’t score...Static goes unfairly neglected...and my little blog goes unnoticed because I didn’t write a review of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3-D.

Why I Chose to Write About Static part two

You most likely get the gist of what Static is about now. The “crazy” inventor and the T.V. to Heaven is the crux of it.

We now interrupt our review for an autobiographical break:

I was working on a script about an inventor around the time I first caught Static. This was to be the blue print for my second film; I apparently hadn’t learned anything about practicality from the first one. No, I wanted to stuff the movie to the proverbial gills. “What would I do if this was the last film I ever made?” I asked myself.

The problem was the story started to bother me profoundly. There was something in the core of my being that had been vacuumed into the script. I wasn’t ready to deal with anything that primally unsettling...no, I wanted this childish dream of “making movies.” The two warring parties (the Emotional Baggage and the Dream) couldn’t seem to reconcile. That left me in a state of paralysis for finishing the script.

(I would later come to the conclusion that you need to deal with the baggage first. After that, you are safe to make the movie. The work will reflect your emotional maturity, and be all the better for it. John Lennon’s album The Plastic Ono Band is a prime example of this.)

I started to puzzle over the archetype of the “Inventor.” What is it all about? An inventor is bringing a thing to life out of thin air. That is a massive amount of responsibility. You have to be crazy for even wanting to attempt such an endeavor. You have to be even more “fucked in the head” (to use a layman’s terms) to continue to believe in your work. This is especially true when the sound and fury of your passion falls on deaf ears.

You can use the character of an inventor as a nifty metaphor. Dig a little deeper under that character and you find the Dreamer. You unearth the story of most artists. I’ll even throw in Don fucking Quixote and Warren Beatty in McCabe and Mrs Miller.

Was I pulling a Don Quixote? Was I just tilting at windmills? Was I “crazy?”

Somewhere in the haze I encountered Static. I’m not making this up: the movie found me through the innocuous Comcast On-Demand service. Do you see the question listed above this ranting? “Why did I choose Static?” The fact that this movie resonated with me has a giant something to do with it.

We now return to our regularly scheduled review.

(Are you still here? I wouldn’t blame you if you are running for the exit.)

Why I Chose to Write About Static part three

This is where I tie Eleanor Rigby, the guy at the bar, and Ernie from Static together. Yes, there is even a large portion of myself thrown in.

Static is about how and why we deem people to be “crazy.”

Take a look at how the other central characters in the film interact with Ernie.

Julia, after her melt down on stage, explicitly asks Ernie: “Do you think I’m crazy?” Ernie is smitten, and just finds her quirks eccentric and adorable.
Frank, Ernie’s cousin, is what we might today label a “fringe personality.” The man lives in a “World War III” shelter. I am completely confused by his rhetoric to be blatantly honest. He poses as a Bible Thumper, only to reveal the fact that he doesn’t believe in Jesus. His belief is that Jesus won’t save us from the impending World War III...and he employs the preacher act to throw people off the scent of his so-called truth. The logic is missing; but Ernie never comments on it. He still sees Frank as his best friend.
Ernie is somewhat of a local celebrity. One of the people at the diner he eats at says: “That boy is going to be famous someday.” There’s a dark irony there because of the ending of the film. (Not to be revealed by me.)

I touched on the significance of the title. Ernie reveals his invention about half way through the film (the classic “midpoint” in screenwriting terminology). That is when his so-called “friends” abandon him. The lovable nut has gone too far to the dark side. What lead him there? Belief in his esoteric passions; mental illness is just a little bit of a side effect.

Ernie’s “community” needed him before the reveal of the invention to act as a mirror. He was a direct reflection of their own insecurities, and they loved him for it. That mainly has to do with the casting of one of cinema’s more lovably enigmatic nerds: Keith Gordon. There’s no way you can’t find him sympathetic.

What happens when the Keith Gordon/Ernie mask falls off, though? The people he was close to (Frank and Julia) can’t stand the harsh reality of what they see.

The guy at the bar, Ernie, the priest from Eleanor Rigby, and me: we should probably keep our interests to ourselves. They tell stories on us, and we start to appear a bit “touched.” Find a more mainstream hobby like Football. You’ll be better off that way.

(Really: who spends their Saturday writing over 2000 words about a film five people have seen?)

Wait, there’s more: A Few Reasons Why Static Is a Good Film

Static is a good film because of the little nuances that so easily could misfire as “pretentious.”

Such as:

There’s a small boy who lip synchs to an old country song on the diner’s Juke Box.
Ernie gives Frank’s children nightmarish masks as a Christmas gift. Why does he feel like that’s an appropriate thing to do?
How is Frank in a sturdy marriage? His wife is an absolutely gorgeous and stable Asian beauty.
The wonderful scene in which Ernie goes to invite Frank to his “unveiling party.” The two men sit in the fall out shelter, surrounded by automatic weapons, and drink Tang while having a heartfelt moment.
The haunting use of Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” over the end credits. The tragic ending takes place on Christmas Day. I’m sure there’s ironic commentary there. I just haven’t deciphered what it is commentary on yet.
The movie slowly reveals itself: You don’t know what the hell Ernie is up to Director Mark Romanek and co-writer Gordon take their sweet time to reveal all the pieces of the puzzle.

Are you still here? Would you like to see my invention? You’ll never guess what it is...

Next Up: The much anticipated (and delayed) conclusion of the Abducted saga.

Why Remember Anything?: The Crown International Experience

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Tue, 14 Jan 2014 05:03:00 +0000

How did I discover the output of Crown International?

There was a time in my life when I desperately yearned to be a filmmaker...oh yes, did I burn. There is a strange event that takes place when you start to chase after a goal. What is it? You start pretending that you are more important than you are. You attach signifiers to your name such as: “Writer-Director” and “Producer.”

In reality, you are just another sucker that got a film project off the ground. That doesn’t diminish the relationship you develop with you cohorts. So for a while I had a friend who was willing to act as the “producer” to my “writer-director.” I also had a script which I couldn’t finish. There was something about the nature of the story that deeply depressed me. I could barely talk about it without wanting to cry.

What the hell does this have to do with cheap drive in movies?

My “producer” friend had given me a deadline for a finished script that I kept dodging. Most of the time my favorite way to do this was go and buy cheap DVDs. That was when I stumbled upon something that purported to be full of “DRIVE IN CULT CLASSICS.”

What would seduce me into plunking down five dollars on such a purchase? Well, I can assure you that it had nothing to do with the cover.

No, nothing at all. Nor did it have anything to do with an attempt to escape the script that made me cry. There are a few other things to consider: I had also recently started blogging and watching far too many movies.

If my “producer” called, I most likely screened the caller ID and didn’t answer. I was too busy destroying hours of my life with this pedestrian filth...er, “Cult Classics.”

I began watching the films, and found they had been produced by a production company called “Crown International.” That’s when all the trouble began.

My Original Plan for Writing About Crown International

I’ll level with you: my first inclination was to write a very long piece drawing on suburban ennui, Raymond Carver, and various religious symbolism. Applying this “theory” to boob-and-schlock-fests like The Teacher and Malibu High was to be a particularly epic (and heroic) failure.

You might ask yourself: “What would put that sort of idea into your head?”

Let’s talk about what I saw in almost every outing with Crown International:

Wildly overblown “pot boiler” stories, usually involving domestic abuse, suicide, and marital dysfunction. (Cindy and Donna, The Stepmother, The Teacher, Malibu High)
Ridiculously down beat endings to movies that were supposed to be salacious good times. (I’ll write about that later in my little review of The Teacher.) The characters are “done in” by ludicrous means (car crashes, gun fire that comes from nowhere, homicidal maniacs on the loose). You can’t help but wonder: “Are these characters being judged harshly for their behavior? Or am I being implicated as an audience member?” More specifically: “Am I the one who is being judged for watching this junky movie? Am I being moralized to?”
The Suburban Sprawl: I understand that this was likely a result of low production values. That still didn’t stop me from noticing: most of the movies are set in generic, uninteresting, almost low rent suburban neighborhoods. The kind that you see in your head when you read Raymond Carver. Raymond Carver wrote about lost little moments in which people realized how hollow their lives had become. Crown International made sleazy movies in which characters looked for any distraction they could find as a way of numbing boredom. Don’t you see the connection? I know I do. (Note: I realized today that I might have readers who have never heard of Raymond Carver. I’ll let you look that reference up on your own.)

The fundamental problem: these movies don’t justify the effort...that didn’t quell my fascination with them. (Despite the unsuccessful Raymond Carver allusions.) That also didn’t stop me from trying to plumb the depths.

This will lead me rather clumsily to the next section. These are not so much “reviews,” as they are “memory pieces.”

Exhibit A: The Teacher (1974)

There is the matter of what The Teacher is on the surface. Angel Tompkins is a hot, older teacher who “cougars” the young and impressionable Jay North. That sounds like brainless fodder for 2 a.m. on a Saturday night, right?

Now let’s talk about what is inexplicably weird about The Teacher:

Jay North: this actor apparently played an incarnation of Dennis the Menace on TV in the 1960s. Have you ever wondered what Dennis the Menace would look like if he hit a bad patch of adolescent awkwardness? The best description I can offer is to imagine Dennis having an unfortunate accident involving radiation. His once adorable boy like features are swollen, and he now reassembles one of the Geico cavemen. We’re supposed to accept that a lovely woman like Angel Tompkins would want to seduce this dude. Their love scenes made me feel cold and dead inside. (And there’s a tag line for Crown International: “The Teacher...it will make you feel cold and dead inside...Coming this Summer!”)
Angel lures Jay into her house for the first time by promising him: “Don’t worry, I’m not going to rape you.” Yes, that is really what she says.
There’s a theme song that resembles what Muzak might sound like if it was played in Hell. A female voice silkily sings: “Every boy needs a teacher....”
Then there’s Anthony James as Ralph: this is what throws a giant web blanket on what should be a sleazy good time. Anthony James, one of cinema’s great creepers, plays a man who is feverishly obsessed with Angel Tompkins. He stalks her through out the movie, and we can’t help but wonder how these two worlds are going to collide. His creepiness leads to one of the most remarkable scenes I’ve seen in any movie. That occurs after Angel and Jay finish having a tryst on her houseboat. (I’ve neglected to mention that Angel has a rich husband who never seems to be around.) After they are done, our boy Anthony pops up in front of the boat wearing a Scuba Suit. He has been lurking under water the entire time.
Then there’s the ending: Anthony James lures Jay North to an abandoned warehouse and pushes him off a staircase. The movie fades to black as Angel Tompkins holds Jay North’s crumpled dead body in her arms. This is the paradox I spoke of earlier. She is being punished for her indiscretions. Logic would dictate that she is acting as the audience surrogate: we’re the ones being punished. (I’m not just talking about the shame that comes from spending two hours of your life on The Teacher.)

Exhibit B: Malibu High (1979)

Do horrible movies happen by accident? Or are they premeditated? I’m not going to delve too far into the plot of Malibu High...though it is a doozy. Jill Lansing plays a high school senior who falls into prostitution; then becomes a professional hit woman through an odd twist of fate.

That’s not important, but two indelible scenes are two.

Lansing starts turning tricks out of a vintage VW van. Would you like to feel very bad about yourself? Just wait until you start chuckling at the following: A group of sleazy looking men form a line outside the van. The camera pulls a rudimentary, dead pan scan through the line as if to say: “No big deal!”
We get a tragic flashback to Lansing’s childhood. She walks into the room as her Daddy hangs himself. Make no mistake about it people, this is the most unintentionally comic suicide ever put to film. Were the filmmakers laughing as the camera rolled? Or were they just horribly inept? I just don’t believe that a piece of filmmaking like this happens on accident.

Lansing meets another abrupt and tragic end. The bullet literally seems to fall from the sky. (Was she punished by a vengeful God?)

What’s It All About?

I’ll start by admitting the following: I recently watched The Van (1977). Another Crown International “gem”: about a wormy dude who buys a Chevy Van. He converts it into what might modestly be called “a Shaggin’-Wagon.” This movie destroyed my theories about the “hidden depths” of Crown International. This is a generic Porky’s precursor and not much else. No dark ending, and certainly nothing resembling shame.

Then what about my experience with the earlier films. Was I digging too deep?

I often wonder (in life as well as movie watching) if it’s possible to want something that isn’t there. You can convince yourself that an experience is better than it is in reality. I didn’t want to deal with the fact that I was wasting my time. Raymond Carver, suburban ennui...why not?

I never finished the script, and ended up giving up on filmmaking. That said, I still finished watching every solitary film in this “Cult Classics” collection. How is that for accomplishment?

Now would anyone like to take this abysmal set of “Drive-In Classics” off my hands?

The Playground Gets Ponderous: Goodbye, Norma Jean (Or What Makes a Movie Star)

noreply@blogger.com (Dusty McGowan) — Mon, 06 Jan 2014 03:42:00 +0000

Part One: Let’s Start with a Little Odyssey I Went On Recently

This whole mess began when (somehow, perhaps by magic) My Week with Marilyn (2011) landed into my instant queue.

My Week with Marilyn is not a very good movie, at least by my semi-professional estimation. The film feels a bit like a stale diet soda version of a Merchant Ivory production. We follow a young man named Colin Clark (a boring performance by some guy named Eddie Redmayne) as he chases after his dream of “getting in the picture business!” (There’s a family to do about this...his father wants him to be a doctor or something. It’s only there to add a lazy shade of character coloring...and really, who cares?)

Colin “gets in” by planting himself in the office of Sir Laurence Olivier on a daily basis. (I will mention that Olivier is played by Kenneth Branagh. It’s a good performance; he doesn’t do a strict impersonation but a real and nuanced acting job.) The secretary finally caves and lets him start answering the phone while she is at lunch. After that, we watch as Colin has a ring side seat for the making of a not very good film called The Prince and the Showgirl. This is a romantic comedy starring Olivier and Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams, we’ll get to that).

Shit goes down after that: Colin gets involved with Marilyn, after she is abandoned by her relatively new husband Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott). The shoot goes down the tubes, because Marilyn is incredibly troubled with pills and mental illness. She has two handlers that constantly coddle her, and presumably get paid well to do it. There’s another girl that Colin hurts terribly by dismissing her for his fling with Marilyn (and she’s played by WhatsHerFace from Harry Potter).

There are two issues that make My Week with Marilyn difficult for me to dismiss:

Michelle Williams as Marilyn: Michelle Williams is most certainly not the real Marilyn. She has somehow sidestepped becoming a movie star and settled for doing legitimate work in small films. That is why she is able to “ape” Marilyn successfully, but also go the extra step by completely tearing off the band aid. She manages to funnel all of Marilyn’s deep wounds through the signature baby soft voice.
Everyone in the story comes off stinking like a clogged toilet. Olivier is an insensitive jerk on set. Arthur Miller decides that the best way to solve his problems is to run away from them. That only happens after Marilyn finds notes for an incredibly unflattering script he is writing about her. Colin might seem like the innocent in this situation. However, I see him more as an opportunistic scum bag in training. The real Colin managed to write not just one, but two books about his fling with Marilyn. That was the source material for this outing. Most of all, there’s Marilyn herself. She uses everyone around her for her own benefit, as most drug addicts do. The “little girl lost” act might have made her a star, but it was also the scape goat for some extremely bad behavior. In short, some mediocre people made a mediocre movie and then moved on. I suppose this is where you would insert a: “Welcome to the film industry” comment.

As you can gather from my somewhat flippant tone, this movie got under my skin. That’s when I had a realization: I had never seen a Marilyn Monroe movie. “Could that be right?” I thought as I read through her filmography. How did that happen?

Part Two: Of Course I Knew Who She Was

The fact that I have never seen a Marilyn Monroe film seemed almost (to quote The Princess Bride) inconceivable to me. Why?

She’s ubiquitous in American culture:

Who hasn’t seen the Andy Warhol silkscreen of her?
We’ve all had to hear Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind” ten thousand times, and most of them at the dentist’s office. (My teeth are hurting just thinking of it.)
I remember reading a Gloria Steinem essay somewhere in the haze of English 102. Steinem’s astute point (from what I can remember) was this: Marilyn Monroe was pushed over the edge by our cultural expectations of her. She was the ultimate sex symbol, and the sad carrier for literally millions of juvenile sexual fantasies. Pay attention to this, kids. I’m going to piggy back off of Gloria for some of my later remarks in this essay.
Hell, I even “met” Marilyn once. Okay, so she was an impersonator outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theater in LA. She wasn’t even a very good one: she was pushing 40 and looked like she had spent some of that tip money on some “help” with her looks. She was standing next to Batman with a Beer Gut and some Hobo dressed up as Gandalf.

With all this said, how the hell had I not seen a Marilyn movie? (I would like my audience to ignore the fact that I had ZERO FUCKING INTEREST in Marilyn Monroe before this. Or if I was to sing it in true Marilyn style...ZERO FUCKING INTEREST...boop boop be do...yeah.)

What to do?

Part Three: The Seven Year Itch and Some Like it Hot

We should all celebrate when something in this life happens easily. By a stroke of luck, both The Seven Year Itch and Some Like It Hot popped up on Instant.

I would like to start with what I knew about these films before watching them. Everyone has seen the iconic shot from The Seven Year Itch, with Marilyn standing on top of the grate “feeling the breeze.” I also knew that Some Like it Hot had something to do with cross dressing.

The Seven Year Itch is nothing great. The truth is that it is slight, horribly dated, and somewhat sexist (towards both sexes...men are nothing but libidinous monsters and women are their all too willing victims). The whole affair is an over boiled sitcom without the laugh track.

I’m not going to go too far into summarizing the story. You know it’s about Tom Ewell as a horny middle aged man whose wife and kids leave for the summer. The central conflict occurs when Marilyn (as a character simply called The Girl) starts to sublet the apartment upstairs. The guy feels “the seven year itch...” after being married for “so long.”

Here’s the crux of it: Nothing really ever happens between the Tom Ewell character and Marilyn. He invites her down for a drink, feels unreasonably guilty, and then (through a series of events) lets The Girl live in his apartment. (Spoiler: In a terribly constructed ending, he goes back to his wife and you can’t help but wonder what the point of the movie was).

Marilyn is there to play a fantasy figure, and she’s adequate. She has impeccable comic timing, she looks great, and is by far the most interesting thing in the film. I finally had my “eureka” moment: this was what all the hoopla was about; a real movie star. Perhaps not a great actress, but a perfect Marilyn Monroe. I would like a chance to see her in a better movie.

Now what?

The next stop on the trip was Some Like It Hot.

Now Some Like It Hot is a completely different beast from The Seven Year Itch. That’s because Some Like It Hot is, quite simply, a great film. The dialogue is sharp and the plot is immaculately constructed. The subject mater is particularly daring and risque for the time. The biggest surprise: the thing is laugh out loud hilarious.

All of that doesn’t concern us for this piece, though. Marilyn is given a substantial character to play, or at least a role that seems tailor made to fit her personae. She is Sugar, a down on her luck night club singer that always falls for saxophonists. She’s vulnerable, she’s funny, and even sings four or five songs. Her singing voice is somewhat thin, but watch how she plays to the night club audience.

I haven’t even mentioned the substantial scenes she shares with both Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon. The sterling example (in my mind) is the scene with Tony Curtis (badly impersonating Cary Grant) on the beach. Of the Marilyn performances I’ve seen (all two of them), this is the one I would freeze in a time capsule as quintessential.

Part Four: What I Have to Say about Marilyn Monroe

Judging from my glowing review of Some Like it Hot, I am a newly minted Marilyn Monroe fan. I’m going to seek out her other films; and even watch (from what I’ve heard) her ill fated attempt to really act in The Misfits.

That said, I can’t help but think about the dark side of the mystique.

I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you: Marilyn Monroe was Norman Jean Baker. There are cracks in the facade and you can see them. This is a bizarre thing to nit pick: but take a close look at her hair. You can tell it’s completely fake, and stylized beyond all belief. You could just assume that she made “more sense” as a blonde. (I don’t know enough about her biography to know who made that decision.)

Even more than the hair: pay close attention to what she says in both films. The Seven Year Itch is predicated on the fact that she would at least have a passing interest in a dude like Tom Ewell. Her character’s ultimate fantasy in Some LIke it Hot is to meet a “man with glasses.” She assumes that they are “gentle.”

Is that something a beautiful woman would say? Or is it an industry full of men projecting their fantasies onto her? I can’t help but contrast this fantasy image with the “real” woman as portrayed in My Week with Marilyn. The one that “cougars” the kid; is this man eater the same delicate creature who loves glasses wearers?

We’re in Gloria Steinem land here: Marilyn Monroe was the giant sacrifice for our collective fantasy.

However, I can’t help but think about the opposite of the coin. Who goes looking for this sort of attention? She wanted to be rich, famous, and intensely adored. Was this a case of “be careful what you wish for?”

At any rate, her early death was an incredible waste of beauty and talent.

I’m rambling.

So I will end with two thoughts that are not my own.

To quote Bernie Taupin: “Goodbye, Norma Jean...”

And to borrow the immortal last line from Some Like It Hot: “Nobody’s perfect.”

Next Up: Some thoughts on the twisted world of Crown International Pictures.