John Barry

While Egypt burns with revolution, I’m mourning one of the soundtrack giants of our age. John Barry is arguably one of the most influential composers in cultural history. He had a distinct melodic gift as the greats usually do, and so important is his iconic theme for the James Bond series that I can’t conceive of them as being successful without them. Barry’s real power came from his sense of romantic melancholia, which perfectly vibes with Ian Fleming’s sad, sardonic 007 worldview, tweaked with espirit adventure of the age and genre. In other words, Barry could milk both tears and action. His pop-jazz influences always shone through as well as his perfect sense of Americana and epic grandeur. One of his best discs remains 1998′s “The Beyondness Of Things,” a full-length original using sections of his unwisely rejected score for “The Horse Whisperer.” There will be more Barry tributes here to come, but I love this clip of him conducting GOLDFINGER from 2001 before a vast audience. I’ll never forget the first time I visited Paris, and I found myself slightly lost through the winding cobble-stone streets under a full moon and a city festival, pockets of revelers on every corner. Yet I felt alone, disconnected from the reverie…because I was. A little drunk, I passed the glinting black Seine as the spires cast gothic silhouettes and I turned on the Walkman radio to find sonic solace. A French announcer spoke and suddenly the blasting brassy horns of the “Goldfinger” intro and Shirley Bassey’s voice filled my head. I laughed at the synchronicity and strolled on, the city suddenly more alive, dangerous, mysterious and yes, romantic. My wandering solitude was the natural state of affairs for a man in my position overseas for the first time; I had a fantastic night. Such was the power of John Barry’s music, my favorite film composer of all time.

Friday Song: Cheap Trick

Cheap Trick were a strange musical bird, a hybrid of hard rock smattered with a pop sheen. The band’s sly humor stemmed from Rick Nielsen, the Pee Wee Herman of rock guitarists, and his amazing eclectic collection, including his famed five neck. Singer Robin Zander had a great 70′s voice while Tom Peterson wailed on bass backed by the Dan Ackroyd-esque power drummer Bun E. Carlos. They didn’t have thematic staying power, but their music typified the hard rock partying vibe of the era, and they set turntables on fire around the world with their huge 1978 hit LP, “Cheap Trick At Budokon,” a sonic backdrop to a thousand bars. This classic, “I Want You To Want Me,” always sends a nostalgic thrill whenever Nielsen’s guitar kicks in along with weekend.

Red State Blues

I won’t delve too much into the latest Kevin Smith blogosphere  drama — I mean, a Moscow airport was blown up with over 30 dead, so let’s get some perspective here — and I’m not even a big fan of his work, though I’ve paid to see DOGMA, JAY AND SILENT BOB STRIKE BACK and ZACK AND MIRI MAKE A PORNO in the theaters. I do think he’s a great ranconteur, and CLERKS is certainly part of 1990′s independent film DNA, so he’s okay by me. The weird, vitriolic overreaction to Smith pulling a William Castle by announcing he would auction the rights to RED STATE to his own production entity, The Harvey Boys, and distribute through the Tom Laughlin-perfected technique used for BILLY JACK (1971) of “four-walling,” basically renting the theater out yourself, doesn’t make sense to me, though I don’t follow Kevin Smith’s tweets nor most of the extant gossip. I would think any filmmaker taking a commercial risk by foregoing studio distribution to cut down outrageous marketing costs should be celebrated and commended. So what if the few distributors at the screening didn’t get to bid on the film? Some have accused Smith of turning his screening into “a circus.” A circus at a carnival! Irony! And he just sold a ticket.

Saturday Nite Feature ’83

I saw this opening weekend, the cinematic ninja renaissance of the 80′s in full bloom as represented by Sho Kosugi, Japan’s answer to the question of Chuck Norris via the Israeli query to Dino DeLaurentis, Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus, who cluttered the shells of movie theaters with such disparate product as MISSING IN ACTION; THE APPLE; MONA LISA; NEW YEAR’S EVIL; THAT CHAMPIONSHIP SEASON; POWASQATSI; and of course, BREAKIN’ 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. Through their distribution outfit, Cannon Films, they pretty much unleashed every Charles Bronson film of his worst decade as well as the aforementioned Mr. Norris. It’s amazing how many Cannon Films I saw in general release and why not? They were expertly filling the exploitation gap left barren by Roger Corman’s New World shift to cable and video. REVENGE OF THE NINJA is the loose sequel (read: unconnected) to their surprise 1982 hit, ENTER THE NINJA. Kosugi stars as the titular ninja whose family save for a young boy is wiped out by a competing ninja clan. Throw Italian gangsters and a blond femme fatale into the wok and you have the basic recipe for a ludicrous, wonderful bowl of action soup.

True, this has some of the most inept acting and scenes in any film of the era, but by God, it moves faster than a shuriken with a surprising level of gore and violence, not to mention some genuinely nifty ninja manuevers. Even in the theater we were hooting with derision yet enjoyment. How can you not love a film where a blonde karate fighter takes on a six year-old mini-ninja? Or where the caucasian villain is able to manifest a faux-ninja dummy during the course of a pitched rooftop battle? Or better still, how about the bloody grandma sword fight replete with her literally vanishing in a puff of a smoke bomb — in fact, everybody vanishes behind a smoke bomb cloud in these films. Despite his wooden thespic skills, Kosugi is an ace fighter and the limp staging by director Sam Firstenberg is redeemed by the almost kinetic choreography and Itto Ogami-esque blood spraying. Revisiting the film, I didn’t think I would be able to make my nostalgia last through more than the opening scene, yet damn if the non-stop action and comedy didn’t keep me glued to the screen in an idiot’s delight; I laughed all the way through, applauding each outrageous kill or action beat, and savoring the synth-score once available on Varese Sarabande records. Totally REVENGE OF THE NINJA indeed!

Forgotten Films: WUSA (1970)

Released this week in 1970, it’s not hard to see how this low-key GP-Rated political film written by Robert Stone (based on his novel, “A Hall Of Mirrors”), directed by Stuart Rosenberg, produced and starring Paul Newman, slipped through the reels of memory. But not mine nor Newman’s, who considered this his most important film. I mean, look at that unique, terrific cast (including Robert Quarry and Clifton James). Lalo Schifrin provides a jaunty score (featuring Neil Diamond’s theme song), somewhat recalling his PRETTY MAIDS ALL IN A ROW done the same year. Although the film was not well-received, time has been kind to its bitches brew of character study, 70′s naturalism and symbolic portensions. Of course WUSA has been unavailable — until February when the movie angels at Olive Films release a welcome anamorphic DVD. And it’s apropos that the subject matter of WUSA deals with a powerful right-wing radio station amid its intersection of commerce, rhetoric and violence at the end of one turbulent decade and the start of another. Hey, it couldn’t happen here.

MLK

“Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.” – Letter From A Birmingham Jail, 1963

Friday Song: Men Without Hats

Let’s dig deep in the archives for one of my seemingly solitary pleasures, the upbeat, energetic, melodic grooves of Men Without Hats, the Quebec sibling duo of Ivan and Stefan Doroschuk, who created vast patches of primo 1980′s synth-songs as reflected in their biggest, too-defining 1982 hit, “Safety Dance” and their 1987 chart-topper, “Pop Goes The World.” This LP is their opus of their era, filled with bright satirical ruminations on life in the late 20th century amidst the nuclear backdrop of MTV, Reagan and Gorbachev. I can’t mount a sterling defense of Men Without Hats except that I simply like it, and there’s no shame in producing music with such clean hands and composure (as Hemingway said, possibly referring to the band). Here they are in concert, giving their dynamic all to “Jenny Wore Black,” one of my favorite songs on “Pop Goes The World.” Just listen and dance.

Memorial

If America needed any more clear example of the differences between a Palin and an Obama, yesterday’s bookend messages showed why one has settled on FOX and one spoke before the Arizona memorial. For what it’s worth, for all my progressive pleas that have not been answered, Barack Obama is still the best President I have experienced in my lifetime.

Peter Yates RIP

What a cool director with an unusual filmography. He first made his mark in BULLITT (1968) and followed that hip actioner with a minimalist character study, JOHN AND MARY (1969) to the fun Robert Redford caper THE HOT ROCK (1972) along with the acclaimed crime drama, THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE (1975) now on Criterion DVD, to his biggest hit, the more impersonal THE DEEP (1977), and later showed his range with BREAKING AWAY (1979), simply one of the most wonderful films ever made. He also directed cult favorites like MOTHER, JUGS AND SPEED (1973), which Quentin Tarantino double-billed with FREEBIE AND THE BEAN at QT III Fest, and the fantasy misfire, KRULL (1982), but he never failed to impress with his crisp composition and a dedication to the reality of a scene. If Yates had an autuerist style, it would be his gift for elegant framing around naturalistic acting. As for BULLITT, I once stood with awe in title maestro’s Pablo Ferro’s studio before the actual graphics used for the brilliant credits, one of the best of the 1960′s along with the film itself. And yes, that car chase. Yes. But for my own idiosyncratic reasons, this dinner jazz scene is my favorite from BULLITT, especially the great reaction moment at 0:041. Steve McQueen, Lalo Schifrin and Peter Yates were perfect cinematic brethren. There was joy in the work.

Retro-View: Cinefantastique Volume 5 Number 2, 1976

CINFANTASTIQUE, the late Frederick S. Clarke’s film magazine with “a sense of wonder,” was the New Yorker of genre publications during the 70′s and 80′s, a conduit betwixt FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND, CASTLE OF FRANKENSTEIN, THE MONSTER TIMES and STARLOG, treating science fiction, fantasy and horror as legitimate subjects of study, with exhaustive detail and a sometimes too-critical eye that would later raise the ire of folks like George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, among others. What I cared about as a child were the rare, cool photos of deleted scenes, stop-motion masters like Ray Harryhausen at work, or especially erotic images of gothic Hammer babes. The writers were excellent, from Steve Rubin to Foster Hirsch (who would later interview me for his book on Otto Preminger) to Tim Lucas to David Bartholomew, whose review of ERASERHEAD in the 1976 issue above was my first exposure to David Lynch: “I am not given to understatement. See this thing.” Within the same pages were perfect capsule opines on INFRA-MAN, GODZILLA VS. MEGALON, DON’T OPEN THE WINDOW, and THE CRAZIES. Their major essay reviews were literate and insightful, and also inside Volume 2, Number 5 (never understood the need to volumize the magazine) are Ross Care’s prescient take on THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (“The whole thing simply screams, ‘Cult!’”) to the merciless take-down of AT THE EARTH’S CORE (1976) with the caption on a particularly cheap image explaining, “That set must have cost Amicus at least $1.98.”

Better still, their production coverage was often the last word on the film subject, with entire issues devoted to all aspects of a single film such as FORBIDDEN PLANET; THE EXORCIST; ALIEN; WAR OF THE WORLDS; CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND; THE THING; SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, and their famous pimping of THE WICKER MAN, which helped spread the word in 1977 (Sir Christopher Lee later sent the magazine his only letter ever responding to a negative review while thanking the readers for their support). Our featured volume above obviously focuses on the year’s big cinematic release, LOGAN’S RUN, and despite CFQ’s on-set access and interviews, their four-part examination was titled, “The Science Fiction Boom Begins With A Bomb.” The editors compare the 1968 novel by William Nolan and George Clayton Johnson to various screenplay drafts (the first magazine I ever read that published script excerpts), accurately highlighting numerous flaws in the feature with an honesty that today’s publicists would not allow, ultimately pointing out that the new wave of sci-fi films had yet to come. Frederick S. Clarke was savvy enough to sense the genre sea-change around the corner, and it’s ironic that in this very issue the “Previews” section included a long blurb on an upcoming film called THE STAR WARS, about the adventures of Luke Starkiller that would include a “12 minute space battle.”

As if all that were not enough for an impressionable geek, Volume 5, Number 2 also featured a great piece by animation maven, Mark Wolf, on all the uncredited effects artists who dilligently brought the hit sex parody FLESH GORDON (1974) to life. We learn that Jim Danforth did a few of the beautiful matte paintings, plus animated the impressive “Beetleman” fight — though he asked his name be taken off the credits (the perverse producers merely spelled it backwards). There are nifty rare stills of unused shots and a generous list of all the technicians who worked on the film, almost a who’s-who precursor to STAR WARS. This volume also features a letter from Rick Baker explaining his role in the controversy around the effects of the KING KONG remake. And this is just one standard issue from the period, so you can see what a wealth of genre information the magazine provided. CINFANTASTIQUE would gain in popularity when the official science fiction boom hit in May of 1977, and I miss the days of comic-shop haunting when they were still wthin the counter-cultural realm, discovering the latest glossy issue and rushing home to be engrossed by the cinematic Sense of Wonders within.

Gun Out Of Control Redux

“Sarah Palin has the crosshairs of a gun sight over our district and when people do that, they’ve gotta realize there are consequences to that action.” – Rep. Gabrielle Giffords

Ms. Palin “targeted” Rep. Gabriele Giffords in her ads — now scrubbed from her site. Her office was vandalized and her father has said the “whole Tea Party” was her enemy. Within a week the ugly seeds of the GOP and NRA bears more vile fruit. “Second Amendment Solutions” huh? Maybe America will stop feeding. And Palin’s career is officially over.

UPDATE: Team Palin has stated these are not “crosshairs” at all. Except Palin’s tweet counters truth — as usual:

Friday Song: Moby

I first heard Moby when I was living in Long Beach, attending community college, reinventing my life before the backdrop of lower Southern California, the Queen Mary and the LBC, with GRAND CANYON helicopters and their roving spotlights overhead every night punctuated by the sound of neighborhood gunfire. I was punched out twice; my roommate’s dad’s car was stolen in front of our pad; six guys climbed into our carpet sized backyard to be chased off by the rottweiler; and I was occasionally groped on the bike trail too close to the local cruising zone (i.e, Long Beach). Despite the fact that our local poetry readings were a non-pretentious, smashing success while I was in the process of some kind of positive social, personal, scholastic and creative evolution, I have never felt so apocalyptically depressed as during my time there. Go figure. Though my sole rave experience made me a life-long non-believer in the scene, Moby’s majestic, thumping cinematic dance music appealed to me instantly. His 1995 fully realized studio effort and arguably best disc, “Everything Is Wrong,” encapsulates all that is right or wrong about Moby’s style, from the less appealing screaming beats to the aforementioned epic soundscapes. This was one of my soundtracks to that unique, transformative 90′s period of Clinton and Tarantino, and when I came home one anxious afternoon to find out that I was accepted into Cal and would be leaving Long Beach for the green hills of Berkeley, I cranked up “Feeling So Real” and raved all over the living room table. Grateful.

The Tea Party Is In Da House!

Within days the GOP is already providing America with comedy gold.

No You Won’t.

Here’s my tribute to the former governor of Kaleefornia.

Mick Karn RIP

One of the most unique bassists of the 1970′s and 80′s was Mick Karn from Japan, fronted by David Sylvian, who straddled a pop-punk Euro-decadent sound and influenced many a New Romantic who came out of England in the day. John Taylor from Duran Duran offers his tribute:

Nick and I first saw Japan at Barbarellas in Birmingham on their ‘Obscure Alternatives’ tour and were blown away. They were so fresh, while every other band in town were tripping over each other in a rush to play the same three chords, Japan were brave in many ways. When I think back to that night the image that first comes to mind first is beautiful Mick, red hair and Ibanez bass, shaved eyebrows and ballet shoes, shuffling around the floor like a docile robot, playing also with great beauty and verve, punching delicate holes in the fabric of the songs; in Mick Karn’s basslines no notes were ever wasted. Mick changed my life in a good way, ‘Quiet Life’ and ‘Gentlemen Take Polaroids’, ‘Adolescent Sex’ and ‘Tin Drum’ are amongst the best recordings made during the post-punk era in my view. Mick’s sax playing also was always interesting.

I too adore his funky Badalemti-esque saxophone, particularly on the track, “Burning Bridges,” from my favorite Japan LP, 1980′s “Gentlemen Take Polaroids.” The live clip above from “The Old Grey Whistle Test” show features “My New Career,” an atmospheric song with Mick Karn’s truly individual and underappreciated liquid style. Godspeed.