Retro-View: QT lll Fest – Gangster Films

Friday at the Alamo. Feels good to be a gangsta after work with cash in the pocket amid a film orgy weekend. Grab an espresso at Ruta Maya. Bethany is here with me again, prepared to brave the cinematic trio of sex and bullets. Tomorrow will be the final fling of QT III, an All Nite Horror Marathon. I feel a little sad already. My friend from Ion Storm, Clay, shows up with his date. We sit and watch the kitsch parade of TV ads and trailers (my favorites are available on this disc). I order the pizza; I’ve waited long enough gawdammit.

Quentin bops out to cheers and applause; it’s definitely Friday Night Lights. He starts to go into his take on the scheduled gangster films when a very drunk couple near the front row start yelling for him to “stop talking and show the movie.” It’s clear they have wandered seemingly blitzed from a Sixth Street bar or two, with little idea who Tarantino is. Then the crowd gets a taste of QT in action as he steps to the edge of the stage and says, “I think the audience would like you to shut the fuck up, alright?” The crowd applauds. The couple yell more stupid drunk shit out to him. Quentin, with a devil smile on his face, looks ready to leap onto them. Instead, he launches into a prolonged verbal bitch-slap to all our vocal delight. They slink out soonafter. A fascinating moment to see him handle and humble two obnoxious assholes. Like a good director should.

After that bit of excitement, the crowd is keyed for THE BONNIE PARKER STORY, directed by William Witney. This little gem from 1958 is an AIP black and white odd re-telling of the Bonnie and Clyde legend that turns the 1930 robbers into 50′s JD at the jukebox types. Dorothy Provine is the tough pretty face with a loaded machine gun she’s not afraid to use. I enjoyed this one quite a bit and Provine’s performance is really something else. The festival is off to a rousing criminal start.

Next up is one I’ve always wanted to see, 1978′s THE LADY IN RED (aka GUNS, SIN AND BATHTUB GIN) directed by ALLIGATOR’s Lewis Teague, written by John Sayles, another one of his terrific scripts for Roger Corman. Seriously, If this screenplay had been picked up by a studio, they coulda put Jane Fonda in this. The story has a feminist perspective on John Dillinger’s infamous woman who joined him in a life of big crime. She eventually led the Feds to his final resting place, outside a Chicago movie theater. How apropos…

Pamela Sue Martin turns in a gutsy performance and Robert Conrad is Dillinger, who is portrayed as a surprisingly decent mug to his moll. Sayles weaves in some subversive union and sexual politics amid his nifty plot twists and turns. Even AIP vet Dick Miller shows up along with Robert Forster, as a gunman who turns out to be one of the Lady’s benefactors. This was a sure crowd pleaser and one of the best films I saw during the festival. I’d love to see John Sayles crank out another low budget exploitation screenplay.

Around midnight, Tarantino came out to intro Walter Hill’s LAST MAN STANDING. He was very enthused about the film and thought it was an overlooked classic. He passed on a personal message from Walter Hill thanking us and hoping we enjoy the film, which was cool. The 1994 film is a remake of YOJIMBO, set in the dusty 30′s, with Bruce Willis as the mysterious stranger who comes to a small crooked town to clean up. While there are a few exciting gun battles, I found LMS a little overwrought, too stoic and I didn’t like the on-the-nose narration: after we see a gangster mowed down by circle of machine-gun firing men, Willis says, “It was a massacre.” Well, it didn’t look like a speakeasy. But Hill always knows how to stage and edit tight, tough action scenes.

After the screening, I talk with Quentin and others, and mention that I thought the narration in LAST MAN STANDING was like Ford’s in BLADE RUNNER, explaining what you were seeing. Quentin swept his hand like an axe and said, “If you think the narration in this is like the narration in BLADE RUNNER, I think you are one-hundred percent, totally wrong.” And he told tell me why. Another fun movie night at the Alamo over.

And only one day left…

Mission Accomplished

“By 2010, our combat mission in Iraq will end.”

Thank you Mr. President.

Bill Hicks: 1961 – 1994

I had heard of but never actually heard Bill Hicks until I moved to Austin, Texas, apropos enough. You soon find he permeates the Austin cultural landscape, and rightly so. Texans are a strange breed. To the consternation of my California cynics, I found the people there to be the friendliest I’d ever encountered in America and Austin the coolest place I’ve ever lived (as the QT Fest shows). And Texans are a fiercely independent lot, for bad or good (just do things their way y’all and we’ll get along jes’ fine). I accepted Texas for what it was and got along just fine. Although I did warn my skeptical Cali friends that George Bush Junior was a’coming…

Hicks was a perfect metaphor for that passionate rage against the machine and his honest outrage at the country’s moral and spiritual hypocricies is what made him a threat to the established media system. He was the first comic banned from CBS after all. Yet even after his sad, untimely death of pancreatic cancer at age 32, he has become even more iconic and influential…On the 15th anniversary of his passing to the Third Eye In The Sky, ladies and gents, the Bruce Lee of comedy, the late great Bill Hicks — from his very last, rare live performance:

Retro-View: QT lll Fest – 70′s Cop Films

Oh yeah. Now we’re cookin’ with hot petrol in screaming cars.

On Tonight’s Double Bill (said in best Quinn Martin Narrator voice): FREEBIE & THE BEAN starring Alan Arkin and James Caan, and BRANNIGAN starring John Wayne. Quentin might as well have called it 70′s Cop Brutality Films… I try not to order again the  pizza, my favorite in Austin, which has a dearth of good pizza — until Home Slice popped up, which made its debut behind Kurt Russell in the xtended cut of DEATH PROOF. I digress, but it’s a small grindhouse world. I’ll wait til Friday for my pizza fix. I order the hefty black bean nachos. Texas!

Quentin comes out in his customary strut and starts going into a great rap on 70′s cop films, and how vilified and misunderstood FREEBIE AND THE BEAN was when it came out in 1974 (yet it was Warner Brothers top-grossing hit of the year). Directed by one of my favorites, Richard Rush, the film was attacked for the near amorality of its mismatched cops, Freebie (James Caan) a slick proto-hustler and Bean (Alan Arkin), a powder keg and somewhat unlikely Mexican. The chaotic team beat up any suspect in their path, destroy every car they can manuever around, and engage in generally sociopathic illegal behavior using their shields as a blank check. And this is a comedy! Rush said later he intended this to be an answer to DIRTY HARRY and THE FRENCH CONNECTION, with its fuck-you-Miranda-lovin’-criminal-coddling-libs heroes.

Rush, a true iconoclast who also directed PSYCH-OUT, the second best counter-culture film of the 60′s, does not seem like the kinda guy to deify violent policemen, so Quentin’s intro was well-stated. And when I saw F&TB a few years later at the Egyptian, Rush reiterated this. Sadly, Tarantino’s print was non-anamorphic, so Lazlo Kovac’s expert Panavision compositions were lost, but it was great to watch anyway as I hadn’t seen it since I was a wee lad living off afternoon and late show fragments of movies. Quentin told us to pay attention to a long scene between Arkin and Valerie Harper (as his wife) which he thought showcased them at their best.

But FREEBIE & THE BEAN is still disturbing after all these years. Amid some of the greatest car chases in American film history, our heroes are crude, bigoted and oblivious to their swath of destruction. The film is particularly homophobic, or the attitude is, with lots of “fag” putdowns and the major bad guy is a transvestite. But Caan and Arkin are PERFECT as the bickering team. I’ve never warmed much to Caan, but this might be his loosest and funniest performance. Arkin is as Mexican as Chuck Heston, but he’s always watchable and even funnier. Rush said that the pair did not get along, which doesn’t seem surprising, but that tension fits the combative duo. And Quentin was right, when Arkin grills his wife, the interplay between him and Valerie Harper is magnetic.

What makes the film problematic at first glance is the cavalier way the pair run people over, including a school marching band, or even shoot a nurse bystander. However, the people around these maniac cops actually do see them as dangerous, especially their captain, well-played by Alex Rocco in a terrific scene. Even Loretta Swit verbally slaps down Caan at the end for his brutish idiocy, and she’s right. But honestly, the reason this was a hit and still holds up is the fantastic action, a tribute to the long-gone Hoopers of the era. The car chases are still jaw-dropping, and would never be done today. The gun battles are filmed with quick violence and are very effective, particularly a hardcore “shoot-in” at a bowling alley bathroom. Even Freebie’s homophobia is offset by the fact that “The Transvestite” (as Christopher Morley is credited) kicks the total shit out of him at the climax — though the documentary THE CELLULOID CLOSET uses this scene to critique the movie’s attitude.

FREEBIE AND THE BEAN ends on a typically obtuse 70′s vibe, but the Alamo crowd loved this one. As did I. As does every audience I’ve seen it with. Too bad a DVD release is again unlikely because of its political incorrectness. Bruce Willis and Sam Jackson have announced a remake. So we have that to look forward to. Don’t we?

I was less impressed with BRANNIGAN, John Wayne’s second attempt after MCQ (1974) to play a modern Dirty Harry type cop (since he had passed on DIRTY HARRY). Here he’s set loose in stodgy dodgy London, where it’s always fun to watch a Yank copper bust the tea and crumpet chops of Scotland Yard’s finest. It’s good to see Wayne in action at least once in my time in Texas, especially in such a fish-out-of-water environment. I only wish the script and direction had more wit and spark. The spectacular poster by Bond artist Robert McGinnis of the Duke kickin’ blimey pub ass is better than anything in the film.

After all that vehicular movie mayhem, I try to keep the speed at a steady 90 on the way home…

Retro-View: QT III Fest – Westerns

After Good Ol’ Boys night, a subtle transition back into the past with two disparate westerns, NAVAJO JOE from 1966 starring Burt Reynolds, and THE STALKING MOON from 1968 with Gregory Peck. Quentin was very excited about showing NAVAJO JOE, claiming that he thought Reynolds gives one of the greatest “physical performances ever, alright?” Apparently, at the height of the Man With No Name fame, Reynolds was duped into an Italian western thinking Sergio Leone would be the director. He got Sergio Corbucci instead, who was one of the best non-Leone spaghetti western filmmakers with the huge hit DJANGO under belt.

Basically, NAVAJO JOE is a revenge tale about a wronged Indian (Reynolds) going single-mindedly after the men who killed his tribe. Or something. I swear I don’t recall. But Tarantino was right about Burt Reynolds (or “Stuntman Burt” if you recall the taunt from GRINDHOUSE) as he deftly jumps, swoops, chops, punches and shoots all over the place, fully utilizing his stunt background. It’s as if he’s trying to escape from the film; there’s always somebody in his warpath. The second great thang was the obligatory Ennio Morricone soundtrack, with one of his most audacious themes (also used all over KILL BILL). ELECTION even sampled from the music (which you’d recognize as Tracy Flick’s anger theme). While not a masterpiece, NAVAJO JOE is a well-shot and exciting spaghetti western that has some real mythical Techniscope moments. Burt Reynolds barely says five sentences in the whole film, but his kinetic presence justifies all.

Between films, I talked with Quentin about THE MIGHTY PEKING MAN and he went into a whole monologue about what the story means and particularly the last shot. Now, I thought I was a film geek, but Tarantino is The Film Geek. He was actually inside THE MIGHTY PEKING MAN’S HEAD, looking out. With that one conversation, I witnessed a pure cinematic passion writ human.

Onto THE STALKING MOON, a high pedigree studio western, directed by TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD’s Richard Mulligan. The premise is simple: a woman (Eve Marie Saint) kidnapped by an Indian warrior is rescued years later by her husband (Gregory Peck). Sadly, the warrior wants his woman back. Like a silent wraith, the barely seen warrior stalks his prey through the mountains. Aided by his trusty Native sidekick, played by a stoic and stealthy Robert Forster (!), Peck eventually battles this manifestation of his worst fears to an interesting somber conclusion.

This was a very interesting film, but I was trying to figure out what attracted such star power like Mulligan and Peck to such a simple tale. The film is almost reactionary in its depiction of the vengeful injun warrior, tho he’s certainly not mocked. There’s not enough psychological insight to make the pursuit a metaphor for much else. It does play like a genteel horror film, and the antagonist is not unlike HALLOWEEN’s Michael Myers. You get the sense that this warrior can never be killed…

All in all, a fun night of little-seen western wonders. Time to mosey on home and prepare for Thursday’s much-anticipated 70′s COPS FILMS double feature. I mean…FREEBIE AND THE BEAN!

President Obama In The House

A fantastic speech, one of the best State Of The Unions ever. How refreshing to be talked to with intelligence and transparency. And with magic words like “education” “healthcare” “not torture.” He wants all Americans to go back to school. What a difference 8 years makes. I hope America responds.

Retro-View: QT III Fest – Good Ol’ Boy Night

The festival gallops along with a perfect country duo of Sam Peckinpah’s JUNIOR BONNER (1972) and the rarely-shown TICK…TICK…TICK (1970). This promises to be a welcome change from the sex, grue and gore of the past nights (not that I’m complaining). Plus, there’s something about watching cowboys on horses onscreen when you’re living in Texas…But Quentin came out to promise that these two were not your typical redneck drive-in flicks. He wasn’t talking GATOR BAIT here. He went into a fun spiel on how bad-azzz Jim Brown was, especially in THE DIRTY DOZEN. This film was his first serious acting role and QT praised him for pulling it off. He detailed the odd history of director Ralph Nelson, who went from the gentle SOUNDER to LILIES IN THE FIELD (1963) to the brutal SOLDIER BLUE (1970) and beyond. I’d been wanting to see this movie for a long time, since I noted the soundtrack in various record stores over the years. The mic hit the stage and I lit into my nachos. There was a good array of Southern fried trailers and then TICK…TICK…TICK.

This MGM film was definitely going for a IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT vibe. Harry Knowles has his in-depth report here. And I really enjoyed this film. It’s more gentle than one might think from the explosive title, but it’s a lovely character drama about the transition to a new age where a Black Man is elected sheriff in a bigoted southern town. George Kennedy plays the decent, confused ex-sheriff who reluctantly helps the man who’s taking his job amid the usual racial tensions. Frederic March plays the crotchety mayor and he’s a pleasure as usual in his last film. A great unsung actor. There are lots of nice character touches and one of the most amazing dissolve edits I’ve ever seen. Ralph Nelson creates a palatable ambiance of southern sweat and rage, and the confrontational ending promises change if not evolution.

After the amiable TICK…TICK…TICK, Quentin took to the stage and shyly began to explain why JUNIOR BONNER from 1972 was such a special film to him. He made it clear he was in no way being an “egotistical asshole” or comparing himself to Peckinpah in any way, he just felt like he appreciated the film more after the mixed reception of JACKIE BROWN. He said that when Peckinpah finally made a film with no slo-mo bullet bursts or violent territorial imperatives, critics and audiences were puzzled, unable to process the film the way some couldn’t get into the mature, thoughtful JACKIE BROWN (the touching, bittersweet relationship between Pam Grier and Robert Forster still makes me cry at the end). You could see Quentin was being sincere as he spoke, even modest, and his heartfelt introducton to JUNIOR BONNER was the best of the festival.

After that preface and more drive-in trailers, I settled in to enjoy Peckinpah’s warm, subtle tribute to an aging rodeo star, expertly played by Steve McQueen in one of his very best quiet performances. Framed by Lucian Ballard’s exquisite Panavision cinematography, JUNIOR BONNER is about a day in the life of the titular hero as he returns home to try and ride one more bronco to victory. His business-savvy brother (Joe Don Baker) is buying the future with mobile home sales while his Quixotic father (a vibrant Robert Preston) and his stoic mother (the great Ida Lupino) try to hold onto their past.

Filled with many terrific character moments and a sad understanding of where men like McQueen are headed, JUNIOR BONNER is Peckinpah’s most gentle, generous film, an elegy for a vanishing cowboy in the modern age. I loved it. A cool title scene with good Jerry Fielding music too. Quentin said if anybody had a soundtrack, he’d make it worth their while.

After the screening, winding the BMW down the 35 as “Chilly Winds” blow from the speakers (from the Osmond’s Greatest Hits CD at Tower Records on Guadalupe (RIP), I again reflect how lucky I am to be riding under Texas stars at this time in my life. Tonight, I’m jes’ a good ol’ boy myself…Yee-haw!

Retro-View: QT III Fest – 60′s Spy Films

Monday Monday. But it’s a good one since I’m fully rested and psyched out about this evening’s slick round of 60’s SPY FILMS:

The Quiller Memorandum

Sol Madrid

It’s no secret (get it?) that I love 60′s Spy Films, especially Bond and Flint, along with the sub-genre of intelligent cold war thrillers, typified by THE IPCRESS FILE and THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD. I adore the widescreen esthetics, and smart, paranoid dialogue. The films usually have great star turns, from Michael Caine to Richard Burton. I’d seen snatches of THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM (1966) on long ago late-night TV broadcasts and did own the cool John Barry soundtrack, so I was jazzed about finally seeing it.

This was the first night I actually talked to Mr. QT (I had actually met him in Amsterdam a few months earlier — not to mention Tinky Winky in the same day. An amazing story). I told him and Richard Linklater how much I loved the title scene of PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW and its infectious Osmond’s/Mike Curb song. Linklater said he had it on a record or CD, so it was definitely available. We talked more about the film and I went back to my seat, happy that I could now find “Chilly Winds.” As befits the laid back Texas crowd, Tarantino mixed and mingled without any fuss or being bothered. The festival’s rhythm was being established and it was a nice mellow beat.

I chatted with Harry Knowles about his PRETTY MAIDS review and then Quentin took to the stage. He compared the 60′s spy films to 80′s action movies, and he had only seen THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM a year before but it had blown him away. He praised George Segal with “He’s Mr. Swinging Dick in this, alright?” He said the novels were very naturalistic, felt genuine and he particularly adored Harold Pinter’s subtextual script. He also warned us that he only had a non-anamorphic 16 mm print, as befits my television memories. Properly prepared, Quentin customarily thudded the microphone and flickering theater darkness enveloped us.

I totally dug THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM. It turned out to be one of my favorites of the fest and I added it to the pantheon of great 1960′s spy films. This is one of the few of the genre where the writer’s contributions are equal or beyond that of the filmmakers. Pinter is famous for pulling out the unspoken truth behind banal exchanges (a stylistic trait that influenced David Mamet) and though I’ve never been a fan of his work, when applied to a spy film, Pinter has found a match for his method. It’s apropos that these paranoid government figures would speak in code, keeping their real intent obscure and the dialogue perfectly captures this paranoid tone. There’s also a satirical undercurrent to the events, typified by British officer George Sanders, who is as interested in his companion’s dinner as he is blase about the fate of another murdered agent.

Although George Segal might seem miscast on first glance, keep in mind that before he gained more fame as a comedic actor, Segal was first known for drama with his turns in SHIP OF FOOLS (1965) and his Supporting Oscar nomination for WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINA WOOLF (1966). And he is certainly not James Bond; after all, he doesn’t even carry a weapon (“If you carry a gun, you’re more likely to get killed.”). Segal has brains, charm and attitude… This layered spy uses his Ugly American status to ensnare the neo-Nazi’s coming out in the open after him. There’s a great reveal later when you find out that this Quiller cat knows much more than he lets anybody know; you see how he would be considered an unorthodox but effective cold warrior — without firing a shot. A simple story made complicated by the suspicion that Segal is being played by both sides. This is made explicit by his boss, Alec Guiness in a terrific fey performance, as he compares Quiller to a raisin trapped between two muffins, one of the film’s highlights.

Michael Anderson, an impersonal director of disparate studio work (AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS; LOGAN’S RUN), does a fine job here with much credit going to his cinematographer, Erwin Hillier, who captures post-war Berlin with a beautiful lens, emphasizing the modern Bauhaus architecture amid the remains of Hitler’s fossilized Germany. Released in 1966, a time of hot tension between West and East; Capitalism and Communism; Pop and Art; Sex and Drugs; THE QUILLLER MEMORANDUM jettisons all the mod trappings of the decade to focus on an existential battle between unsettled, dangerous ideologies.

After the film ended, the audience was clearly confused by the intricate third act plot machinations. Harry has his report here. And he’s correct. Tarantino came out and accurately  gauged the mixed response. He went into a very smart explication of what the last confusing scenes meant. I appreciated the film even more. You’ll have to see it to understand. Or not.

Quentin set us up for the next picture, SOL MADRID, an obscure 1968 MGM effort directed by Brian Hutton (KELLY’S HEROES) with David McCallum and Telly Savalas (who deserves a film festival), along with Ricardo Montalban, Stella Stevens, and Rip Torn. A fairly standard story about an icy criminal, McCallum, involved with Savalas, a suave drug kingpin. Quentin didn’t think this was a great movie but cool in its own way; he said some movies have scenes in them that make the whole thing worthwhile. He told us to watch out for the moment when McCallum seems in amused awe by Savalas’s bold, self-pleased theatrics.

SOL MADRID began, looking like a more expensive TV movie of the era, but with sex, drugs and violence, dotted with a jazzy Lalo Shifrin score. The aforementioned scene arrived when McCallum, playing a cold amoral bastard, almost smiles as Savalas lays on his Playboy Grotto bravado. Again, Telly holds his cigarette betwixt thumb and forefinger, Euro-style — the exact way from PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW and ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE. There’s an archetypal late 60′s narco-hallucination scene and some fun character moments. Montalban was always bigger than than the films he was in. A sadly underused actor. But he’s bad-ass in this along with Savalas. Altogether, a very watchable movie but not one I’d consider revisiting.

Quentin announced that he was going to show some 16 mm prints of THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E if we wanted to stick around. I did for a bit and felt my brain going under like Quiller himself. Had Tarantino spiked my beer? Would I wake up my in the gutter, a gun in my hand and a message in my brain? Nope. I was just plain tired. Mission Impossible. I slid out of the Alamo shadows as a tiny crowd stayed to watch black and white 60′s secret agents for Gawd knows how long into the night…

Retro-View: QT lll Fest – 70′s Double Feature

Sunday night all over Texas, 7 pm. Feels exactly like a Sunday night. Smell of detergent from homes. Light traffic on the roads. Must work the next day. Drive into a quieter Sixth Street. Alert but still weary from the previous night. Settle into my usual seat. Order another pizza with beer. Feel guilty that I already ate pizza Friday. Indulge. Relax.

Quentin bops out, immediately goes into his riff on cheerleader movies and how they promised more than they delivered. But he held up PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW (1971) as the best, most sexy, expensive cheerleader film never made by New World. With Roger Vadim as director and Gene Rodenberry (yes) as producer/screenwriter, the project certainly had odd pedigree. Not to mention, Rock Hudson as Tiger, the he-man football coach who’s also seducing much of the foxy student body. People titter when Tarantino refers to Hudson as a stud, and of course there’s obvious irony but Quentin lectures apropos that Rock Hudson was an actor and knew his shit. He also gamely told the audience that this is the kind of cheerleader movie that will genuinely turn you on. It’s clear Tarantino was enthralled by this film and with that out of the way, he dropped the mic. We were off to the double feature, 1970′s style.

For some reason, PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW will always be representative of my QT III experience and one of things that most evokes my time in Austin. I knew I loved this movie the minute the Osmond’s catchy theme song “Chilly Winds” started up over the archetypal ‘70s credit scene as our young hero on his Vespa finds himself surrounded by Eisenstienian cuts of nubile females. Only in this What Kind Of Man Reads Playboy era could so much adolescent horniness be sanctified by macro-close-ups of exposed, jiggling flesh. Blame the Frenchman behind the camera. I always suspected Rodenberry was some kind of libertine. Look at STAR TREK.

PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW was Vadim’s first and only American film, produced by MGM at the height of their disconnect from audiences. After the success of Antonioni’s BLOW-UP (1966) they tried all sorts of esthetic experimentation. By 1970, with the failure of Antonioni’s ZABRISKIE POINT, the famous studio lion was having a bad trip. Going with the revolutionary flow, the studio had sold off its past while trying to buy a future. But they ended up with unique films like this one. Vadim said he had total freedom and there were only about four films being shot on the lot at the time.

In a nutshell, the plot of PMAIAR is simple. A horny student named Ponce (engagingly played by John David Carson) finds himself in lust with proto-MILF Angie Dickinson at the veritable stratosphere of her carnal beauty. Meanwhile, certain nubile students are being bumped off with cryptic notes attached to their bodies. The prime suspect seems to be “Tiger”…the popular football coach and teacher. Rock Hudson is quite terrific and you don’t doubt his seductive virility, especially in a strong scene where he convinces Dickinson to give Ponce some private lessons. I’d have loved to watch that moment being filmed.

Throw in Telly Savalas as the pre-Kojack suspicious detective (holding his cigarette Euro-style as he did in ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE (1968) and HORROR EXPRESS (1972); Roddy McDowall as the bewildered principal; James “Scotty” Doohan speaking straight English; William Marshall from STAR TREK; Keenan Wynn as a clod sheriff; and of course, dozens of stunning 70′s babes including the familiar Joy Bang…Top it off with Vadim’s leering, black comedy tone, questionable point of view and you end up with my favorite discovery of the festival. Harry Knowles was taken with it too as he enthused in his AICN post. Too bad Paramount won’t be rushing this to DVD anytime soon likely due to its risque high school nature, but it is available on bootleg and VHS. Kinky. And that theme song!

I was so pleased by PRETTY MAIDS and filled with Sunday night tranquility that I bailed on MOTHER, JUGS AND SPEED, a 1976 oddity with Bill Cosby, Raquel Welch and Harvey Keitel as wacky ambulance drivers directed by Peter Yates (BULLITT). The Cos is quite good in the film and I always thought he was an underused actor. “MASH on wheels” is how the ads described it and that’s certainly the tonal template, one of the last dark comedies of the decade. Roger Ebert’s review aptly sums it up: “It almost relishes the incompatibility of its scenes – gore followed by double entendre followed by chills ‘n’ spills – and if it thinks it’s imitating “MASH” it’s wrong, because “MASH” had a central idea about its battlefield surgeons and then played variations on it.”

I’m sure that’s what Tarantino loves about the film, going from running nuns to shotgun murders to slapstick chases. And I find that appealing too, if only as an indicator of the unpredictability that Hollywood briefly allowed its big studio films. I was feeling liberated myself that evening. Driving home past the soft Southern lights of Texas, I vow to evolve like Ponce and track down the Osmond’s coolest track ever. But first, I need serious sleep in order to go undercover for the Monday night roster of SPY FILMS…

The Oscar (1966)

If you ask Harlan Ellison about this film, he will punch your fuckin’ heart out.

Hooray For Holly–LADY!!!

With fresh dinosaur fossils less than a mile away to the south and the biggest film event of the year a mile away to the north, I revel in the knowledge that Jerry Lewis, who fits somewhere between that cultural/paleontological scale, will receive the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award tonight. The closest thing to an Oscar recognizing his talents as he’ll ever get. And that’s only because of the general prejudice against comedy, Jerry Lewis’s in particular. We all know he shoulda been nominated for THE NUTTY PROFESSOR (1963), but this should be one of those great Academy Award moments. Here’s why:

Retro-View: QT III Fest – Exploitation Marathon!

QT lll continued in the afternoon with a Saturday Kiddie Matinee featuring VISIT TO A SMALL PLANET with Jerry Lewis in a skewed adaptation of Gore Vidal’s more satirical Broadway hit. I know the Ain’t It Cool News crew were there with this excellent report. I was not, sleeping in, writing at my favorite cafe haunt, Mojo’s. And I had to reserve my strength for that evening’s all night EXPLOITATION MARATHON! The list of films was unique with some real treats including ALLIGATOR written by John Sayles, starring Robert Forster; and Ralph Bakshi’s controversial rarely-seen animated drama COONSKIN.

Inside The Alamo

Saturday night at the Alamo Drafthouse. Festive vibe. I’m fully rested and vested to immerse myself in my first theatrical all-night movie mainline. Bethany and Manny have joined me in the cause. I buy one of the Duke Wayne adorned Alamo mugs that act as a bottomless cup o’ coffee to help you make it through the onslaught of screenings. Here’s the line-up:

* Coonskin
* Alligator
* Death Collector
* Nashville Girl
* Little Cigars
* Surprise Bonus Wake-up Movie

I had already settled on the middle seat, third row as my official spot for the fest. Bethany and Manny sat excited on both sides of me, all of us laughing or marveling at the breadth of funky bad-ass trailers. Texas magic was in the air. Robert Rodriguez was there, and Mike Judge. Harry Knowles has a good report on the night here. He and the Austin Geek Mafia sat behind me throughout the festival.

Quentin bound on stage, dressed in black, pumped up, ready to rawk and rawl the all-nite-shock-a-thon audience. He went on a great riff about how many of these films have very good scenes or moments, or scripts in the case of ALLIGATOR. “Oh… and another thing… don’t worry about falling asleep… That’s kinda one of the things that’s great about this kinda thing. You fall asleep remembering a man being bit in half by a giant alligator and you wake up to see a country western singer getting a blow job and you’re kinda like…. WHOA… what’s happening here… is this the same fucking movie, where the hell did these dwarfs with machine guns come from, what’s happening?”

He warned that he and others would be watching to see who stayed or snuck away. “We know who you are,” he promised with pointing finger. I guess we would be filed under “chicken shit” if we bailed. Not me. Plus I wanted to find out what the Surprise Movie was as I had an idea… Who would survive this exploitation marathon and what would be left of them?

Quentin did his customary mic drop and it was Showtime at the Alamo!

The marathon started in grand politically ruptured fashion with a rare showing of the long suppressed, COONSKIN, animator Ralph Bakshi’s flawed, angry and experimental treatsie on the Black Urban Xperience circa 1975 at the tail end of the blaxploitation film era.  Sold as “SONG OF THE SOUTH in Harlem” Bakshi found himself in real hot politik as the young archetypal Al Sharpton led a protest before seeing it. The film was re-titled STREET FIGHT and sunk into the cracks of reel time. You can see why this would be a fave for Tarantino. The incredible opening credits with the legendary Scatman Crothers alone set the audience up for things to come. A mash-up of Bakshi’s cartoony caricatures, rotoscoping, and animation with a live action bookend, the film is a heady trip but I’ve never warmed to Bakshi’s style. I think his dialogue is great, but the Saturday Morning antics of the characters pull me out. Yet Bakshi is clearly coming from a place of empathy and radical rage, so charges of racism are rather moot and P.C., especially given that Spike Lee is a fan along with rappers like the Wu Tang Clan. Way to start the night!

Up next, ALLIGATOR from 1980, a personal favorite. I always loved the witty, aware script by John Sayles and Lewis Teague’s slick direction. Particularly awesome is Robert Forster in the lead. Quentin explained that this film was the reason he cast Forster in JACKIE BROWN. This is easily the best JAWS rip-off along with the Sayles-penned PIRANHA. The effects are pretty cool for a low budget creature feature, and there are some wonderful shock moments. There’s even a little Sayles-esque political allegory as the gator sweeps through a crooked contractor’s wedding, eating guests like a demon of capitalism. I was also in hog movie heaven, working over my pepperoni pizza and draft beer. Tarantino made an impassioned pitch to make sure we all tipped the faithful Alamo wait-staff and somebody yelled out something about RESErVOIR DOGS. “Listen to ME, do not listen to MR. PINK!” Tarantino shouted to cheers.

Next was the little-seen DEATH COLLECTOR from 1976. A gritty slice of greasy New York mobsters, this was the film that actually prompted Martin Scorcese to cast Joe Pesci in RAGING BULL. And Pesci acts here as if he’s been in Scorcese films all his life. Despite the exploitive title, this was a well-made tough ambitious flick with some terrific scenes.  This rough gem deserves a nice Criterion release.

I looked around at the still thick crowd. At some point, Manny had vanished, perhaps for a date. Bethany was still next to me, her head pillow already in use. It was only around two in the AM, and we still had three more films to go. I thought this was as close to a 42nd street grindhouse as I was going to come in my life. Minus the rats, junkies and stabbings.

Some old fashion sexploitation came up with NASHVILLE GIRL (1976), starring Monica Gayle, best known and beloved as “Patch” in Jack Hill’s amazing SWITCHBLADE SISTERS (“I lost an eye for this gang!”). Here, she plays a gentle country girl who spends most of the film being degraded by men in her life. There was an honesty about how women in show biz are used by con-men that gave the movie more validity than the usual New World fare; her cruel Svengali manager was presented with some actual psychological subtlety. I even liked some of the faux-honky tonk tunes. So not bad, if too brutal. Only Roger Corman would release a drive-in version of a Robert Altman film.

Quentin was still vibrant, getting us pumped up, analyzing the energy flow of the crowd. He seemed satisfied and intro’d the most unusual film of the night, 1973′s LITTLE CIGARS, another New World release I’d never heard of. Basically the story of a modern Snow White and her criminal dwarfs, LITTLE CIGARS was not the “ha ha midget thieves” feature I was expecting. The film has a seedy noir feel, and you can identify with the lead little person’s triumph at hooking up with the luscious Angel Tompkins. Though I caught a few zzzz’s during the film, one of the highlight moments of the fest was the audience’s almost visceral reaction when the tiny crooks threatened to turn the film very unpleasant. You’ll have to see for yourself. If it ever makes it to DVD.

The marathon was winding down and we were all curious as to what the Surprise Bonus Wake-Up Movie would be. I told Bethany it might be THE MIGHTY PEKING MAN since QT’s distribution company, Rolling Thunder, would be releasing it in a month or two. Bethany nodded and fell back asleep. Quentin bound on stage like human Redbull, looking over the audience wreckage of the Alamo at 6 AM. Still jazzed, he announced that we were to be the premiere elite for…THE MIGHTY PEKING MAN! Hoots and hollers from those able to move. Fortune cookies were passed around. I’d seen pictures of this film since I was a monster-mag-reading kid, and heard that it was the most expensive film ever made in Hong Kong. Clearly an attempt at a Dino De Laurentis style KING KONG remake (it should have been called HONG KONG), I viddied TMPM in a sort of strange, delirious, hallucinogenic Ludovico state. My eyelids fluttered as the jungle woman twirled the leopard, exposing its genitalia in a slo-motion love montage. Then I would slip back off to cozy sleep, awakening to the final protracted city battle as one of the silliest man-in-ape-suit history destroyed Hong Kong. I particularly loved the endless close-ups of the great monkey’s screaming puppet face. The film ends on a rather grand tragic symbolic image, and I could see why Quentin wanted THE MIGHTY PEKING MAN seen by the world.

But it was around 8 AM now, the sun was out and the Exploitation Marathon had come to a mellow finale.  Along with the crowd, Bethany and I staggered into the Austin Sunday morn like zombie refugees; I recall driving home somehow, hitting my pillow into deep B-movie REM, images of busty jungle women and giant puppet apes unspooling in my head.

Yes, a great night. We had survived. At least some of us had. And I would be back for that evening’s 70′s DOUBLE FEATURE. After this cine-trance, I was tested and battle-ready. Nothing would keep me away… I was… was… wasszzzzzzzz….

Retro-View: QT III Film Festival (1999)

I originally wrote these excessively in-depth posts on my former site last year, so to honor the first official poster releases for INGLORIOUS BASTERDS and the 10 year anniversary of QT III Fest, I thought I’d re-post them here with some revisions. Gotta fill space!

Hard to believe it was a decade ago this weekend that I attended Quentin Tarantino’s Third Film Festival, or QT lll if you will, at the Original Alamo Drafthouse in Austin (and this would be the first one held at the Alamo). For 125 bucks I got the full pass for the whole nine days. A very exciting time in my life and it felt great to be cruising into downtown Austin at the cusp of the weekend with nothing but the prospect of watching supercool movies with QT. I entered the cozy cavern of the Alamo, already my favorite theater in the world due to the vibe, beer and pizza. Scratchy trailers for bizarre kid’s toys and films were on a surreal hilarious loop. I was lovin’ it. It’s important to note the importance of showing a variety of ads and trailers to get people in the proper cultural frame o’ mind. My favorites were for the WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT remake from 1970, PUSSYCAT PUSSYCAT I LOVE YOU (yes, that’s right) and MAID IN SWEDEN, a slick Scandinavian sex opera with the amazing Christina Lindberg. It just felt awesome to quaff a brew, scarf pizza and viddy the grindhouse cine-ephemera on a Friday night in Austin. I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

Action With An Edge/Epic Adventure Night:

THE THREE/FOUR MUSKETEERS (1973-74)

ZULU DAWN (1979)

After the mad clips, Richard Linklater entered to whoops and applause to intro Quentin. He asked people not to bug The Man for autographs because then he has to sit through Quentin telling them, in a good imitation: “Hey, this is my church, and we’re all just hanging out watching movies, okay?” He then brings out Tarantino to great applause. An online journal, MONK, has his very savvy opening speech, tho James Crotty’s preface is a bit snarky. And though Crotty claims QT was not to be questioned, that is untrue, as I and others can attest. He talked to anybody as long as it was about films, music, etc. During his introduction, he said that this was actually his genuine “vacation,” just hanging out with friends and watching cool movies. And Crotty leaves off Tarantino’s final wry words to the audience: “And if anybody has a script they want to give me, I’d love to read it.”

So after Quentin does his thing, we get to view the two non-scope prints of the THREE and FOUR MUSKETEERS from 1973/4. I’ve seen chunks of these on TV over the years but never sat proper through them both. Altho Tarantino claimed to not be a Lester fan, he loves these movies, especially for the big star cast, all doing some of their best work, from Michael York to Oliver Reed to Chris Lee to Charlton Heston to Faye Dunaway to Raquel Welch. I am a Lester fan and these two films — that were actually filmed as one without telling the actors — rank as some of his best work. There’s a 70′s naturalism to the way Lester shoots the fight scenes, with quick brutality and raw violence. Check this scene out. And it’s all about Oliver Reed. As Tarantino pointed out, Reed is indeed “a god in this.”

Onto ZULU DAWN, a sort of sequel to the hit 1964 imperialist epic, ZULU, that helped push Michael Caine into stardom. Fatigued by a hard day’s work and an easy night’s double feature, I recall little of ZD, except for some very cool battle scenes and a more complex perspective on the imperialism of the earlier ZULU film. It all boils down to, how do you cheer White Colonialists mowing down African warriors who are only defending their land? Well, in this film, you start by showing the White Colonialists get outrageously slaughtered in Britain’s most deadly war loss. The sheer chaos is effective in cinematic terms.

So the first evening of QT lll 99 ends quiet with the smokey remains of a battlefield and Quentin promising more greatness to come with Saturday’s All-Nite EXPLOITATION MARATHON! My pals Bethany and Manny have promised to join me for this test of movie endurance. I walk into the cool air, passing the archetypal Sixth Street flock going strong in search of one more beer. My sleep is sober and peaceful, bouyed by visions of raging cheerleaders and heroic swordsmen spooling through my head.

And this was only the beginning…

Inglourious Basterds

My most anticipated film of the year. Here’s a run-down of my grindhouse week hanging with Mr. T. at his 1999 Alamo Drafthouse QT III Film Festival.

For my Men On A Mission film rundown, please to start here.

Don’t Look Back In Anger

From the 1996 Oasis mega-hit disc “What’s The Story Morning Glory?” comes this anthemic plea. Yes, that’s Patrick MacNee driving the boys around. And I love that Oasis Beatle-esque.