Ken Russell RIP

I was going to write a bit more about the passing of this mad cine-genius, a prototypical British eccentric anarchist. He was a seminal figure in 1970′s and 80′s film, and it’s hard to fathom how he would find major studio financing as he once commanded after his hit WOMEN IN LOVE (1969) to finance THE DEVILS (1971), arguably one of the most controversial films in the history of the medium, a brilliant summation of religious tolerance repression and perversion featuring Oliver Reed in his greatest performance along with Vanessa Redgrave, indelible as a hunchbacked nun with deep fantasies. Warner Brothers is scared to release his uncut version to this day (although a BFI Region 1 blu-ray is coming), testament to the power of the film and the ironic fear of persecution. Russell had an odd, excessive style you either liked or didn’t — for example, I’m not a fan of TOMMY (1975), his biggest hit, primarily because I love the original rock-opera so much and the stars warbling don’t work; plus I have an irrational dislike of Roger Daltrey’s frizzy hair in the film. His crazed musicals such as LIZTOMANIA are where Russell entered Fellini-ville, where his style and method was swallowing up narrative coherence. However, I am a passionate devotee of Paddy Chayefsky’s ALTERED STATES (1980), and feel that Russell was the perfect director (replacing Arthur Penn, who chose the dazzling cast). Chayefsky’s literate script of sex, dialogues and transformations was given flight by Russell’s apropos visionary direction. GOTHIC (1989) is a not to be taken seriously baroque horror comedy but has some startling images, such as the eyes on the nipple, a perfect Russell visual if there ever was. Regardless of his audience alienations, I may not have loved all of his films, but I loved that Ken Russell actually made them.

Enter The Dragon

“My last name is Lee, Bruce Lee. I was born in San Francisco, 1940.”

A GOP Thanksgiving

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.

Friday Song: Eurythmics

Here’s “Sylvia,” my favorite Eurythmics tune (from their 1989 “We Too Are One”) which you probably never heard unless you’re a deep fan, which I actually never was. I just heard the song one smokey evening long ago and fell in love. And fell…

Netflix Streaming Theatre Vol. VIII

As for all the recent Netflix controversy, I can only say that 8 bucks a month to viddy dozens of films unavailable in any format is a steal. However, I’m not thrilled about Criterion leaving their berth. Thus a new batch of films flowing in an endless stream down my queue…

MACHINE GUN MCCAIN (1969) – I’ve had McCain on the Brain (not to be confused with that other con man), hypnotized by Ennio Morricone’s hyp hyp soundtrack, and awestruck by Netflix’s streaming HD print of this Italian gangster cheap epic. Fresh off his 1968 Best Supporting Oscar stint for THE DIRTY DOZEN and ROSEMARY’S BABY and his own FACES, Cassavettes was at the height of his game and power, and he apparently took on this lead for the bread as did Peter Falk, but they would forge a friendship leading to HUSBANDS (1970) and this film’s co-producer helped Cassavettes secure financing. So there. The script is sadly bare bones in insight and character, which is too bad since McCain has moments of being a fascinating creation. Cassavettes is unpredictable and has some great lines, especially his paen to Las Vegas: “It’s an attraction for sad, fat businessmen begging for more money…for hustlers, for thieves, for pimps. I love it!” Gene Rowlands is in there as his tough ex and you wish there was more script for them to chew. MACHINE GUN MCCAIN is set and shot in San Francisco, Vegas and Los Angeles, with actual local flavor, not to mention a great snapshot of the day (and stripper Carol Doda!). Suave Gabriel Ferzetti (right after OHMSS) shows up as the archetypal Don to dispense wisdom and death. Along with Morricone’s supremely catchy music, the modernist set design and Bava’esque lighting will hold your interest through the existential gangster shenanigans.

FIRE AND ICE (1983) – I haven’t revisited Ralph Bakshi and Frank Frazetta’s celebrated animated collaboration since the day, so I was glad to recap my initial impressions. I’m one of the folks who rarely changes his mind about a film once I’ve seen it — I usually know if it works for me or not. And decades haven’t changed my take on this flawed, admirable effort. Frazetta is a perfect fit for the animation medium and thankfully, Bakshi left behind his semi-cartoony mix of the adult and childish to play it straight.  The story is a simple tale of good versus evil, of axes to skulls, of beasts versus breasts in a fantastic world of myth and magic.  The roto-scoping works well in the nifty battle scenes, but the characters are rather flatly drawn, lacking the shadowed depth they require. And sometimes the scenes look like the weirder episodes of Bakshi’s stint on the 1960′s SPIDERMAN cartoon (you knew it was a Bakshi episode if the backgrounds were psychedelic and the music was ominous). The best thing about FIRE AND ICE remains “Darkwolf,” a classic Frazetta warrior come to waking life, a heroic Death Dealer (if you know that famous print) looking cooler than ice in his lupus eye mask…

SCREAM, BLACULA, SCREAM (1973) – Film Geek Admission: I still haven’t seen the original BLACKULA, apropos American International Pictures’ 100th film with one of their all time great exploitation hits and titles to ride the crest of the blaxploitation wave. Strange that Netflix streaming pulled the first but left its sequel in the queue. Rescued from limbo by voodoo, William Marshall again assays the role of Mamuwalde, his magesterial voice and presence a welcome entry in the 1970′s vampire era. Blacula searches for his true love, in this case played even more apropos by Pam Grier, who I didn’t even know was in this until the credits. What a perfect fit for the African Prince of Darkness! Directed by Bob Kelijan, who helmed the COUNT YORGA bloodsucker hits, there’s a lot of low budget drive-in fun to be had with this one (rated PG); betwixt the scary vampire attacks there’s some fun setpieces with Blacula taking on modern urban society. Marshall is a great undead hero who deserved better scripts and production values, but this is a nifty film from a more unique genre past.

THE HINDENBURG (1975) – This big budget Robert Wise addition to the 70′s disaster era is a rather forgotten, critically reviled film in his admittedly wonky output during the decade. I saw it as a tyke in the theater, being a bit of a morbid Hindenburg buff; revisiting it decades later, it holds up as a rather implausible attempt to explain what really happened on that deadly dirigible in 1936. Who knew that frustrated German officer George C. Scott uncovered a plot by radical William Atherton to blow up the jewel of the zeppelins? Along for the yearbook box all star ride are Anne Bancroft, Gig Young, Burgess Meredith, Charles Durning and Robert Clary (HOGAN’S HEROES). Sadly, the character interplay is on the tail end of an era where anybody could be forgiven for not caring. The Oscar winning visual effects by Albert Whitlock are quite majestic as shot under Wise’s epic eye with a lilting, lovely score by David Shire. I won’t spoil the climax but it involves a lot of black and white footage. I still recall the theater bursting into applause when the dog was announced as one of the survivors. Oh, the humanity.

WAXWORK (1988) – This fun, unique, clever horror film spawned a couple sequels and I haven’t seen it until now in a pique of 80′s nostalgia. I’m glad I did for it’s an affectionate genre comedy written and directed by Anthony Hickox, who throws in time portals, nifty spfx make-up, scary little people, black and white zombies, kinky bondage, David Warner and Patrick Macnee, along with some totally 80′s esthetics. I mean, this film is a veritable Monster Mash-Up infused with the proper geek spirit; it has a comic book style, and I was charmed by Hickox’s dedication to Hammer, Landis, Dante, Romero, Argento, Spielberg, Wells, and Carpenter in the end credits. A perfect Friday night pizza film.

AT LONG LAST LOVE (1975) - Now this is what Netflix streaming is all about: a beautiful print of Peter Bogdanovich’s infamous critical/box office disaster still unavailable on DVD. A clear attempt to solidify his realm as the Hollywood auterist wunderkind by duplicating the madcap musicals of the 1930′s, replete with Cole Porter tunes and live, non-synched, singing by stars not known for their vocal chops, a conceit that accounts for the film’s odd nature. Starring Burt Reynolds, Cybill Shepherd, Madeline Kahn and Duililo De Prete (who he?), the shapeless plot involves ensuing wackiness among the wealthy and ne’er do well, merely an excuse to string together dozens of Porter songs with dance. It’s hardly the horror the Medved brothers described in their Golden Turkey awards, and Reynolds is swell in his Clark Gable-esque role, but there’s zero emotional connection to these characters, so fossilized is the plot in 30′s conventions. The lack of any irony is rather charming as is Bogdanovich’s stab at introducing a new generation to the pleasures of the screwball musical at a period when 30′s pop deco was chic — yet it was THE STING (1973) that better captured the espirit of old-school Hollywood. Lazlo Kovac’s camera is super, the sets are swanky and the choreography is sodden, while the music numbers aren’t so bad it’s good, only odd and unmoving. Probably the film’s most successful element is John Hillerman playing the archetypal butler with all the witty aplomb that he would build his later TV career on. The Netflix version is a hefty 2 hours but there’s apparently an alternate ending on another version. Here’s Mr. Peel’s more in-depth look along with a fascinating discussion about the film’s pro and cons. AT LONG LAST LOVE may not be de-lightful but it is de riguer cinephillic viewing.

THE BLUES BROTHERS (1980) - For some reason, the dominant memory of my first and only visit to Universal Studios way back in 1980 was the enormous billboards for upcoming releases for THE NUDE BOMB, FLASH GORDON and THE BLUES BROTHERS. I was already a big fan of John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd’s SNL rhythm and blues alter-egos, especially when I saw how seriously they took the music. While some critics wrote them off as White Boys Trying Too Hard, their film and LP success opened some previously shuttered doors to the real blues men and women who inspired Jake and Elwood. In a detailed American Film magazine (RIP) from 1982, director John Landis said he and co-writer Ackroyd conceived of THE BLUES BROTHERS as a Road-Show musical epic replete with intermission which the studio nixed and a lot of footage vanished in an emulsion black hole. And the film feels like an epic with its long quiet 70′s intro leading to the great iconic head-on shots of Jake and Elwood Blues — Landis’s signature image. The simple story as we know is the destructive brothers finding redemption through saving their Chicago orphanage. I love the absurdist humor throughout mixed with some of the best car chases committed to celluloid with the stars actually driving the cars at 100 mph through the streets of the Windy City. Then of course, there’s the music. Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, James Brown and Aretha Franklin tearing up the screen in fun musical numbers, well-staged by Landis along with the Blues Brothers own terrific songs, including the classic “Rawhide” scene. While the script never explores Jake and Elwood given the movie’s scope, John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd are at their peak. I never fail to laugh non-stop when Henry Gibson and his neo-Nazi partner plummet endlessly to their Wagnerian doom.

TAM LIN (1970) – AKA THE DEVIL’S WIDOW, a truly obscure supernatural pop thriller directed by Roddy McDowall (the reason he wasn’t in BENEATH THE PLANET OF THE APES) starring Ava Gardner and Ian McShane at the same time he was in PUSSYCAT, PUSSYCAT, I LOVE YOU, along with a host of worthy English character actors. TAM LIN is a more apropos title given its gallic theme and misty ambiance, the unusual oblique tale of a young man possessed — or not — by a vengeful older woman..or is she a witch? McDowall was already known as a respected photographer so it’s no surprise he tried his hand at directing (this production scared him from trying again) and he displays a keen compositional eye with a penchant for bitchy wicked wordplay, albeit in a mod millieu. The strange film, a psychedelic product of its time, sat on the shelf until good ol’ AIP recut and sent it into drive-in oblivion as THE DEVIL’S WIDOW and in 1998, Martin Scorcese uncovered the original elements for a brief VHS release. And this is the good-looking version available on Instant Watch, which you should now.

MACHETE MAIDENS UNLEASHED (2010) – Directed by Mark Hartley, who did the fantastic Ozploitation documentary, NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD (2008), trains his outre eye on the Filipino film industry that thrived in the late 60′s and 70′s. Slick, thorough and well-clipped, Hartley includes interviews with legends like Joe Dante, Pam Grier, Sid Haig, Dick Miller, Colleen Camp, Roger Corman, John Landis (who says, “I love Roger but he is so full of shit!”) and even Eddie Romero, who directed such gems as BEAST OF BLOOD and THE TWILIGHT PEOPLE. I appreciate that the documentary points out the irony of exploitation revolution films versus the oppressive Marcos regime that gladly assisted the producers. Presented in glorious HD. Grime-O-Vision!

The Ballad of Hank McCain

If this track doesn’t make you smile half-cocked as you see your future laying crooked out before you, then you’re no Hank McCain.

Saturday Night Shocker ’82

I saw VICE SQUAD three times in the theatre, sleazy catnip to these young eyes, and I clearly wasn’t the only one as it turned out to be an exploitation hit for the late lamented Embassy Pictures. Written and directed by Gary Sherman, who made the unique, superior RAW MEAT (1972) about a cannibal dweller in London’s subway system (and features one of the best tracking shots in cinema history), VICE SQUAD tells the archetypal story of a night in the day of a Hollywood prostitute pursued by a killer pimp leaving a trail of death and mutilation in his wake. This sordid tale captured the imagination of a generation of grindhouse and HBO moviegoers for a few obvious reasons, one being Sherman’s smooth, fast-paced direction; another being the visceral, voyeuristic sense of West Coast grime, when Hollywood Boulevard was the 42nd St of Los Angeles (and has undergone a similar family gentrification), a series of ugly, bizarre and disturbing reality snapshots. No wonder since the masterful John Alcott was the cinematographer, going from BARRY LYNDON to TERROR TRAIN within the span of a decade. Of course, the major reason for the film’s success is Wings Hauser’s iconic, unhinged performance as one of the screen’s most evil pimps, the aptly named, “Ramrod.” Nobody who saw VICE SQUAD has forgotten this scary visage of cruelty in cowboy garb, beating, whipping and slicing his way along the star-embedded streets. Season Hubley, a tough, sexy actress seen earlier in ex-husband Kurt Russell’s ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, is his target, “Princess,” who you want to help flee the mean streets of Hollywood. Gary Swanson plays the good cop in hot pursuit who also says the line, “Go ahead…make my day” a year before whathisface. There’s also a host of eclectic supporting actors, including Nena Blackwood pre-MTV VJ fame and poor Fred Berry from WHAT’S HAPPENING, who gets castrated. VICE SQUAD is a definite totem of the 1980′s, with synth, rouge and neon galore; Sherman keeps the reels rolling with a nasty camera eye and a strong kinetic vibe. It’s a tough film to watch and even now, I don’t need to viddy poor Hubley being brutalized with a wire hangar (Roger Ebert and critics had unkind words for VICE SQUAD) — if there was ever a film that made you want to take a purifying shower afterwards, this would be one. Yet Ramrod’s comeuppance is so totally deserved and satisfying that it’s worth the grim ride. And Hauser is one of the era’s unheralded film villains, especially in the timing and delivery of his best line, “I cannot believe how stupid you are.” The dude even wails the theme song, “Neon Slime” (!). Gary Sherman would next helm POLTERGEIST III in another odd step from this stylish, unpredictable director, but VICE SQUAD stands out as his bleak 80′s testament. Scorcese said it should have been nominated for Best Picture. Cut to a century later where I find myself strolling by night the same Hollywood Boulevard of broken dreams — minus that once-steady flow of freaks, prostitutes and hopefully, Ramrods…

Let’s Play Hackball

Chris Matthews on MSNBC epitomizes the smug inside the beltway entry-level thinking that dominates the so-called “liberal media.” This is the man who gushed over Bush’s pathetic Mission Accomplished moment with this left-wing rant:

We were given a rare opportunity to hear the real philosophy of this administration with regard to the war in Iraq. A powerful rendition by the president of why we’re there. When he talked about the fact that we can support emerging democracies in the Middle East, and that’s the only way we can prevent future 9/11′s, you’re getting to the heart of why this administration is fighting that war in Iraq.

Except just last week, Matthews tweeted this rewrite:  “I have opposed the Iraq War since I smelled it coming in late 2001.” I guess he just forgot while he hilariously claims Obama should APOLOGIZE for the stimulus (that rescued the nation from a depression) because JFK apologized for the Bay Of Pigs. See, Matthews has a new book out deifying John Kennedy so all the MSNBC foot soldiers (including HuffPo whore Howard “Hack” Fineman) had to rush out and help him pimp. So Matthews thinks Obama has to become like JFK  — or lose in 2012. Whatever the hell that means. I guess Obama should forge a new family with a bootlegger dad, numerous brothers and sisters, a few million in the bank and the capacity to bang as many women as a Catholic can. Matthews talks as if there’s no record of what he said the previous day, and he went so far as to call Rick Perry’s newest lame ad (which features a teleprompter joke) as “dynamite!” Jon Stewart once brilliantly eviscerated his horserace political philosophy, which is based only on perception, not reality. You can watch the whole clip here, and it’s well worth your time, especially since Matthews is clearly SHOCKED that anybody outside his media bubble dares to question his lame, confused philosophy.

Dia De Los Muertes

Ah, and you thought SHOCKTOBER! was over. We still have this wonderful post-Halloween holiday. So I can’t remember where I read this unique, insightful description of 1985′s DAY OF THE DEAD as “one of the most depressing dispatches from the battle of the sexes” — though I’m certain it must have been a review from the gilded pages of CINEFANTASTIQUE — which is not exactly the kind of critique one might expect from a film ostensibly about flesh-eating zombies and their victims. George Romero’s long-awaited follow-up to his Dead series received mixed critical notices yet still made a profit (unrated as DAWN OF THE DEAD) though it’s certainly well-regarded today, primarily for Howard Sherman’s classic portrayal of “Bub,” Romero’s first supra-intelligent ghoul and Joe Pilato’s scene and reel chewing performance as the angry, unhinged Captain Rhodes. Tom Savini also reaches a triumphant plateau in terms of zombie deaths and make-up effects (my favorite being the shovel decapitation), which take somewhat of a backseat to the bickering scientists and military plotline. Lori Cardille stars as Sarah, a take-charge scientist trying to keep her team together while Rhodes threatens a coup in their underground laboratory lair. Their profane verbal duels comprise a chunk of the film, with Romero wisely keeping the implied threats of sexual and physical violence just under the surface. DAY OF THE DEAD is melancholy the way the others are not, lacking the midnight movie espirit of DAWN, even though the trilogy ends of an optimistic note. As stated, Sherman’s Bub is a great creation, Romero’s chance to do a Karloffian monster character (note that Rhodes calls the manic Dr. Logan, “Frankenstein”). And the penultimate moment betwixt Bub and Rhodes is classic genre cinema. So…remember.