In which I participate in a meme where you list every city that you spent at least one night in during the preceding year. This year has apparently been all about me travelling up and down the east coast. There are worse ways to spend your year, especially when you don’t have a whole lot on money. But next year I want to make it to Portland, OR.
Richmond, VA
Henrico, VA
Durham, NC
Spencerport, NY
Monticello, IN
Mooresville, IN
Annapolis, MD
Livonia, MI
Camden, ME
Boston, MA
Athens, GA
Savannah, GA
Portsmouth, VA
Anna Maria Island, FL
May this next year be a travel-rich year for us all!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
I am currently trying to figure out a strategy for trying to convince my mom to make a stuffed doll of Divine from Pink Flamingos for a friend of mine for Christmas.
I probably should have thought about this earlier in the year.
So it's nice to remind yourself occasionally that your first impression can sometimes not be the best impression, particularly when that first impression occurs when you're a child. Tonight, in what might have been an effort to try to get my roommate to go to bed so I could watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 in peace -- SPOILER ALERT: it didn't work! -- I started watching Flash Gordon on Netflix. I remember the movie from when I was a child: mostly, what I remember was the theme song (naturally), and that it seemed like a lame rip-off of Star Wars. Well, and I remembered the pulsating slimy scorpion creature inside the stump on Arboria, because frankly, that was gross. But my point here is that my associations with the film weren't great. But people whose opinions I respect seemed to like the film, so I figured I would revisit it.
So we start watching the movie, and almost immediately my attitude towards it improved dramatically. Yes, Sam J. Jones as the title character was a bit of a meathead, but the movie seems perfectly cognizant of this fact, and plays it for laughs. Seriously, attacking the imperial guard as if he's trying to make it through a defensive line? HILARIOUS. But the rest of the cast more than makes up for it. Melody Anderson is much better than I remember, and plays Dale Arden as if she really is in a serial in the 1930s. And when we get to the other actors -- Brian Blessed, Topol, Timothy Dalton, MAX VON SYDOW?? -- there is absolutely nothing to complain about. And the costumes and scenery are actually kind of gorgeous: as my roommate said, it's Star Wars if George Lucas were a gay man. Everything that turned me off as a kid -- the clearly artificial special effects, the Rococo ornateness of the sets and the costumes, the knowing winks to the audience -- are precisely why I enjoyed it so much as an adult. It's so over the top, with such a peculiarly retro-futuristic aesthetic at work within it, and so much fun to look at. Instead of seeing it as an attempt to cash in on Star Wars, it sort of strikes me that it's almost an antidote to it, an attempt to try to take the space opera back to its roots. And I appreciate that.
So this afternoon, I went to see The Muppets, because the Muppets are awesome. I was watching Sesame Street extremely early in life: the first word I ever spoke was "cookie" because I saw Cookie Monster on the back of the newspaper my dad was reading. I even used to refer to time increments in terms of Sesame Street whenever we drove to my grandparents' house, i.e., "How many Sesame Streets until we get there?" And I remember very clearly gathering around the console TV with the family to watch The Muppet Show every week. The soundtrack to The Muppet Movie was one of the first albums I ever owned, and I used to listen to it ad infinitum. The older I get, the more I realize how much the Muppets aesthetic influenced my taste: my affection for old Hollywood spectacle and artifice, for musicals and surreal humor, all seem tied to my affection for those two television shows. In other words, I am the target audience of The Muppets.
And that's a problem. This should be a movie directed towards children, with stuff to appeal to adults. That was certainly the case with the original Muppet movie. But this seemed almost exclusively to be an exercise in nostalgia, with frequent references to that first movie. I don't have a problem with them breaking the fourth wall -- they ALWAYS did that, and I love that about them -- but jokes would rely on a recent re-watching of The Muppet Movie, and that shouldn't be the case. The whole movie seemed to almost evangelize on the Muppets' behalf, trying to convince the audience that there were culturally relevant once again. Except, and here's a problem: WE'RE ALREADY IN THE AUDIENCE. We're the people who think that they can be relevant, we're the ones willing to overlook that the Muppets don't sound quite right, we're in the theater. Now give us an exciting, amusing story about the Muppets to justify that faith!
The music for the film was problematic, as well. There were four new songs by Bret McKenzie, of Flight of the Conchords, and these were pleasant enough. But they lacked that spark that you had from The Muppet Movie soundtrack. Then they used "Rainbow Connection" (twice), as well as the original version of "Mahna Mahna" at the conclusion. Which, is fine: I find myself wondering why they couldn't just write new songs, but at the same time, "Rainbow Connection" has proven remarkably durable over the years. But then, several times in the movie, they just used pop songs -- "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard," "We Built This City," "Bad to the Bone." And that just struck me as wrong: the Muppet movies (or at least the core three) always seemed to be in a somewhat timeless place, a world of its own. Couldn't songs have been written to accomplish what these songs did in the movie? The "Bad to the Bone" cue in particular seemed profoundly hacky, like something you would expect to see in a Chipmunks movie. (I actually had less problem with the Muppet-izing of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Fuck You," because at least those were integrated into the action, and besides, The Muppet Show used to do that sort of pop music re-purposing pretty regularly. The first time I ever heard "Copa Cabana" was when Liza Minnelli performed it on that show.)
Don't even get me started about the cameos. The best thing about the cameos is when they're able to integrate it into action without making a big deal out of it. Sarah Silverman as a waitress works, for instance. Zach Galifianakis as a hobo? It was the role he was born to play! But trotting out Whoopi Goldberg, Selena Gomez, and the kid from Modern Family as themselves to answer phones in a donation drive? Two of these individuals currently work on shows on ABC (a Disney company), the other is a hideous monster straight out of the Walt Disney clone farm. This is incredibly lazy, and it is not going to help the movie age well.
Did I laugh at this movie? Heck yeah, although sometimes the laughter was a bit more strained than I would have liked. Did I cry at this movie? Yes I did, although it seemed to spring less from the story than it did the accretion of nostalgia that has built up on the property for me. The re-enactment of the opening of The Muppet Show literally had tears streaming down my face, which, I admit, didn't make a whole lot of sense. But I was mourning lost youth, and the loss of Jim Henson. This movie provoked an emotional reaction, but only because the emotions were already inside me when I entered the theater. It made me nostalgic for how ambitious the Muppets used to be.
I had first heard of Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell at Halloween a few years ago: Turner Classic Movies was showing it as part of their horror film marathon, and something about that title just sang to me. Because, let's face it, that's an amazing title. I had had it saved on DVR, but something went wrong, and by the time I finally sat down to watch it, it was no where to be found. Since then, I've checked Netflix fairly regularly to try to see if it had been released, with no luck. I despaired ever even getting the chance to see it.
Then the other day, my roommate and I were fiddling around on Hulu Plus -- he has suddenly decided that he wants to start watching movies on his motion picture bucket list, and a good proportion of those movies are available through the Criterion Collection. So we were just going through the movies, putting all the ones he wanted to see in the queue, as well as a couple for me. Suddenly, what comes up but Goke! "What sort of witchery is this?" quoth I, staring in wonder at what I saw on the TV. Could it be true? Could it have been released by Criterion?
Short answer: yes, but not on DVD or Blue-Ray. It appears to be something that is solely on the Hulu Plus channel, which is a nice bit of added value for those who subscribe. Personally, I think that it probably will be released as a physical product eventually, especially after the success Criterion has had with House. In this blog post, it's mentioned that it had been posted on Hulu the same week that Godzilla and Quadrophenia had been posted: the former is set to be released on disc in January, and I expect that the latter won't follow too far behind. It's an interesting marketing maneuver, especially for films like this which may not have an existing audience yet.
So I watched it. And it was good. The movie I see it compared to the most is Mario Bava's Planet of the Vampires, which I can totally see, both plot-wise, as well is the director's clear indebtedness to Bava's over saturated style. But the horror in this movie is significantly more effective than in the earlier movie. Maybe it's the fact that I didn't watch this movie on the office computer over the course of my lunch hours over a couple days -- such was my online video experience before we hooked a Roku box to the TV -- but this one just worked much better for me.
**HERE THERE BE SPOILERS**
A summary, since it isn't a particularly well-known movie: an Air Japan flight is on it's way from Tokyo to Osaka, when there are some ominous events that begin taking place. The skies are orange and full of lights, and pigeons keep smashing into the windows of the aircraft. As this is going on, we are introduced to the crew and passengers, including one particularly nefarious passenger who then proceeds to hijack the plane, as nefarious passengers are wont to do. The plane is re-routed, but then a UFO flies by, and suddenly nothing works. The plane goes down on what seems to be an uncharted desert island.
On that island, it takes all of 23 seconds for the entire group (with the exception of the hero and heroine) to go full on "Lord of the Flies" mode: seriously, the introduction of the titular monster only hastens a process that by that point is well under way. And the eponymous horror is introduced in an effectively memorable way: the nefarious passenger takes the heroine hostage to try to get away from the rest of the survivors, only to encounter the UFO. The heroine passes out, and nefarious passenger enters the UFO, only to have what can only be described as a vaginal slit open up in his forehead. (Seriously, I'm admittedly not an expert, but take a look at that picture up top and let me know if I'm wrong here.) Then the alien, essentially a metallic-looking slime thing, oozes into the wound and takes over his body. Which, seriously, ew.
Well, for reasons that remain unexplained, it turns out that once the body is snatched, it hungers for human blood, and the Snatched Body Formerly Known As Nefarious Passenger is no exception. He goes around chomping on fellow passengers whenever they haven't been dispatched by one of the other, seemingly non-nefarious survivors. There's a lot of pessimistic metaphors to be found about government corruption and corporations being in bed with politicians, and even some Vietnam War stuff from the sole American on board, a young war widow who constantly talks like she's gasping for air, and never understands Japanese until the other passengers start talking about killing her. Although, in her defense, if you could only understand Japanese in one specific situation, that would really be the situation to go with. One passenger is possessed by the alien and used to explain its goals to the survivors -- namely, to kill all humans and to take over the earth, simple enough -- before she jumps off the cliff and becomes a thoroughly unconvincing dummy in midair. Looks like somebody threw a Raggedy Annie off the cliff and filmed it.
So blah blah blah, everyone's dead except for the body snatcher and the hero and heroine, and the couple finally manage to escape him and stagger back to civilization, where they discover that *GASP* EVERYONE ON EARTH IS ALREADY DEAD. There is some stock footage to suggest that it was a nuclear war that done the deed, although I remain somewhat dubious that nuclear war wouldn't have also killed all the passengers on the plane. But while I'm puzzling this out, there's a shot of the earth from space, showing a huge number of UFOs descending upon it, ready to make it their new home. And the ghost of Rod Serling quietly nods in approval.
**HERE END THE SPOILERS**
So was this movie worth the wait? ABSOLUTELY. It is an incredibly vivid, profoundly pessimistic film that, in a lot of ways, is as relevant as ever. Sure, a lot of it looks kind of crude, but it's effective in a way that a more sophisticated film might not be able to be. I do plan on seeing it again, and might even buy it on disc, if and when Criterion chooses to release it. Do I think this will receive the same amount of attention as House? Not really: House is just completely batshit, and a lot of the word of mouth had to do with people just not believing that a movie like that existed at all. That movie is almost relentlessly singular. Goke , for all of its weirdness, is still a fairly standard horror movie, albeit an entertaining and depressing one.
So last week I went to see Pedro Almodovar's The Skin I live In. I'm a fan of his work, and have seen most of his theatrical movies, although, for some reason, and in spit of having a copy of it, I have not seen his last film, Broken Embraces. I think that, after the muted reaction it got from critics at film festivals, I kind of put off seeing it indefinitely. Add to that the fact that the only place that was showing it in Richmond was an art theater I had never been to, and the fact that I always prefer to see foreign films for the first time on the big screen -- otherwise I tend to concentrate so much on reading the subtitles that I quit paying attention to what's going on onscreen -- and it means that I've been lax in my duties as an Almodovar fan.
This film has actually garnered comparatively lukewarm reviews, as well. At the same time, even from a broad plot outline, I was seeing elements from Vertigo and Eyes Without A Face in there, which appealed to me a great deal, so I have been checking with relative frequency to see if it was playing in the area ever since it was released in the U.S. Plus, an old Antonio Banderas is STILL Antonio Banderas, and I have had a thing ever since seeing Law of Desire. So last week, on my lunch break, I checked online, and suddenly it was playing. I've had bad experiences putting off seeing movies, only to find they're gone by the weekend, so I knew I wanted to see it that night. A quick text message to a friend and suddenly I had my plans for the evening!
The movie itself? Very entertaining, but strange. I can see why critics have complained about its coldness: there is an almost clinical detachment from the proceedings that I suppose would be a bit off-putting, if thematically appropriate. It certainly does not have the warmth that you find in, say, Volver or All About My Mother, my two favorite of his movies. And I will say that, in general, I prefer Almodovar's "women's pictures" to his movies that prominently feature men. Talk To Her, for instance, was a great critical success, but it honestly left me completely cold. It's entirely possible this has more to do with my preferring female protagonists in general, but I also think that there's a demonstrable difference in the way he approaches male and female actors.
But the talk I was hearing about this being Almodovar's horror movie? Completely overblown. It uses some horror movie tropes, certainly, and it definitely does rely a lot on suspense. But it's no more horrific than Volver or Bad Education. The characters' actions may be horrific, but not because they're inhuman monsters, but rather because they're all too human.
So I've been continuing to watch Twin Peaks, which I mentioned earlier. I've seen it (or most of it) before, having watched it when it was originally on, as well as having re-watched it on DVD a couple years ago. I've just moved beyond the murder of Laura Palmer, to the stretch of the show where things become weird, and not just in a Lynchian way. This is the part of the series where I traditionally begin to lose interest, where the series no longer seems as precariously balanced between soap opera melodramatics and the genuinely uncanny. Instead it seems to think it's enough to rely almost exclusively on melodrama, with a light peppering of Native American lore and extraterrestrial insinuations, just to remind viewers that the show could be legitimately frightening. SPOILER ALERT -- I have some thoughts:
Before starting to re-watch it, I had sort of come to believe that the acting was pretty dire, almost across the board, but I no longer think that this is true. A lot of what I had previously viewed as acting deficiencies now looks more a matter of the writing: the characters do not have realistic reactions to events, and the actors who seem to deal the best with this are also the most compelling of the series. This is true of Kyle MacLachlan, certainly, and it's true of Ray Wise and Grace Zabriskie, as well: the most wrenching moment of the pilot episode is hearing Zabriskie's mournful wail through the telephone. But it's also true for Dana Ashbrook and Mädchen Amick as Bobby and Shelly, who I had never given a whole lot of consideration to in previous viewings. Of the younger actors, they acquit themselves the best with the material. Sherilyn Fenn, while not always particularly convincing in her delivery, at least remains charismatic in her role.
The same is not true for some of the other actors. I expel an audible sigh whenever there's a scene with both Lara Flynn Boyle and James Marshall in it. Good lord, those scenes are DULL. At least when Maddy was around, Sheryl Lee offered something else to watch than those two. And now we're getting into James's roadtrip to The Postman Always Rings Twice Land, which -- WE DON'T CARE. It was bad enough when the two of them were sleuthing around and driving agoraphobes to kill themselves -- once the murder was solved, there's no reason to care about them at all. And I sincerely, sincerely do not.
Piper Laurie is the bomb. Seriously, she seems to have the time of her life as the traditional soap opera bitch, a really big fish in a small pond. And coupling her with the eternally squirrelly Jack Nance was kind of brilliant.
The death of Maddy Ferguson is the most harrowing scene that I have ever seen on a network television show. When it was broadcast, it kind of scarred me, and it continues to exert incredible power over me, to the extent that I was actively dreading the episode that it came in. At the same time, it had such an effect on me because it was just really well done: the scene continues long after the point where any other show would cut. It's brutal and queasy, both in terms of the actions depicted, as well as in relation to the audience. It's just incredibly affecting.
Considering how much iconic power the dream scenes have, and how associated with the series they are, they don't occur particularly frequently. The Man from Another Place only shows up a couple times in the first season and we haven't seen him since, except in flashbacks. Since the Red Room scenes are basically used as a shorthand for Twin Peaks itself, this is fairly surprising.
Watching the investigation of the murder of Laura Palmer, I was struck that the first season of Veronica Mars is basically the same story told from the perspective of Donna. Not EXACTLY the same, but enough that it holds up under scrutiny. Teenage girl with a double life murdered by the adult man she was having an affair with? Best friend investigates her murder, and along the way falls in love with the murdered girl's boyfriend? There's a lot of differences, but you can almost imagine Rob Thomas taking note of the problems Twin Peaks encountered, and finding solutions for them. Not that Veronica Mars didn't encounter its own problems in its second season, but that just means in 2021, a visionary TV auteur will make one of the best TV shows around based on the investigation into a school bus crash.
David Lynch and Mark Frost deserve our appreciation, simply for making the Log Lady a thing.
During the original run, owing to the network shuffling things around, and the goddamned NFL preempting the show so often with games, I completely lost track of the second half of the second season. So there's a lot about the second season I don't remember, or have never actually seen. But, for some reason, I did see the final scene of the final episode, and that instills the same dread in me that the Maddy episode does. In fact, the last time I watched it, I never got to it, because I just sort of didn't want to get any closer to it. I know it's a stupid reaction, and I'm going to try to make it all the way to the end this time. But the dread is still there. That's the mark of good television.
Over the past couple days, spurred on by various factors, I have been re-watching Twin Peaks. I am only up to episode 7, but I always forget how much I enjoy it. I'll have more to say about it tomorrow, but, needless to say, the owls are not what they seem.
Just two more films that I forced my roommate to endure last night.
House of the Devil: This is a film that I have had in my queue for a while now, but that I avoided actually watching because someone suggested that it got really gruesome in the last half hour. While it may not be immediately clear, I do not actually deal with either gore or suspense particularly well. I'm better than I used to be, but I still tend to get really keyed up by suspense, to the point where I will pause a movie and walk around a bit. I'm an anxious guy; don't judge. I have an even bigger problem with gore, any movie where the viscera can be described as "frequent and glistening" tends to turn me off. (This is why I tend to avoid zombie movies altogether.) My general rule of thumb is: nothing made in the past 20 years. Something about that temporal distance, or possibly the less complicated visual effects, renders it palatable to me. It's why most of the movies I've mentioned this Halloween are from the 1960s.
This movie, however: it LOOKS like it was made over 20 years ago. The style of the film, the technology they use, the hair, they all scream "early-1980s." And while I have not embraced 80s horror with quite the enthusiasm that I've embraced 70s horror, I enjoyed it a great deal. The performances were strong almost across the board, with Mary Woronov in particular giving a wonderfully creepy performance, given her limited time on screen -- seriously, what an amazing career that lady's had! I love her! As to the gruesomeness of the ending? I actually was a little disappointed that it wasn't even more insane than it was, but that disappointed is tempered a bit by the low-boil of suspense that the movie had us in through most of its running time. I went in with some reservations, but I actually really liked it a lot.
The Vampire Lovers: Well, that was certainly something! This is another Hammer Horror movie that weaseled its way into my queue thanks to Dr. K. I'm pretty sure that I would have gotten more out of this if I got anything out of women's breasts. Or women kissing each other. Or women in general. It was well made enough, and the acting was more consistent than Vampire Circus, but it was just a series of women in peril, usually with a breast or two hanging out. They never explain why this elaborate ruse was necessary just for Carmilla to feed, what the point of it was, nor do they bother to explain the waxy man in black, which I hold against the film. That said, it was entertaining enough, just not particularly scary.
So, I've been binging on horror movies lately, because 'tis the season, and also I was able to bully my roommate into letting me use the Roku unit. All of these movies are available on Netflix Instant. Among the things I watched were:
Dr. Terror's House of Horrors: I'm not really sure why I had this on my instant queue, but it's been there for a while. I seem to recall either a commentary or critical article citing it as an influence on a movie I enjoyed a lot, but what that movie was is lost in the mists of time, leaving only this. It's OK, I guess: the episodic nature of the movie kept things rolling at a steady clip, and my roommate and I amused ourselves by guessing the twist endings to every section. But after a while, it just felt overstuffed: they seriously were just shoving in every genre they could into the stories, and the only thing really unifying them was their fatalism. The cast was surprisingly familiar, with Peter Cushing, Donald Sutherland, Christopher Lee, and Michael Gough -- the last one perhaps most familiar as Alfred from Batman '89. But the protagonists' behavior in the stories didn't make much sense at times, and the threats weren't very imaginative. Plus, and this bugged the hell out of me: Dr. Terror had a more-than-full tarot deck -- the stack he had was so thick I wondered if they were printed on graham crackers -- but the only cards he pulled were from the Major Arcana. That sort of thing almost bugs me as much as when they pull cards that don't exist. Yes, I'm a geek.
Vampire Circus: At least with this movie, I know the reason it was in my queue: Dr. K featured it in his Halloween Countdown last year, and I was intrigued enough to want to watch it. (Dr. K always did a great job with the horror movie write-ups; here's hoping he returns to it again!) This movie did a much better job of making the circus itself clearly awful: putting aside the fact that at least three of its members are vampires, it also has a mute strongman (played by the future body of Darth Vader!), and the creepiest little-person clown imaginable.
Seriously, this fella needs a job as a henchman for the Joker, he's that creepy. And then there's the human woman, introduced at the very beginning of the film, who actually seems to get sexually excited watching her vampire lover drink from and kill a little girl she's brought him from the village. That scene is effectively creepy. As is the fact that the village the movie takes place in is slowly being killed by a strain of rabies carried by the bats in the area: it's clear that the village is dying before the circus comes to town, a victim of an infection within its boundaries, possibly because of a curse left upon it by the vampire they killed at the beginning of the movie. Because of this, the village itself has been quarantined by the government, and anybody who tries to leave it is shot on sight, with nobody allowed to enter the village, either. Nobody, that is, but THE VAMPIRE CIRCUS! It's not a perfect movie, but it is a pretty effective one. Certainly creepier than the other two.
Let The Right One In: I can't explain why I hadn't seen this movie before now: I've certainly seen plenty written about it online, by critics and friends whose opinions I respect speaking about it in glowing terms. Part of it might have just me being contrary. But a couple nights ago, my roommate demanded (SIGH) that he choose a Halloween-type movie for us to watch, and of the options he gave me, this is the one I opted for. It isn't particularly scary, and it isn't particularly gruesome, but it is very well acted, and it is shot absolutely beautifully. Watching its outdoor scenes actually made me feel colder. The ending is more complicated and sad than it seems, although that same description could go for the movie as a whole. It's Bergman-esque horror. I liked it.
Creepshow: Another film selected by my roommate. I had actually seen about 4/5s of this movie before, and had been impressed at the time by the sudden flares of non-natural lighting whenever danger loomed. The set-ups tended to be a tad corny (which I realize was part of the point), and the sudden intrusion of panels and graphics from comics a little distracting -- I thought the lighting shifts, suddenly mimicking four-color printing, accomplished the same thing, less obtrusively. The one segment I hadn't seen, the last one, was genuinely creepy, and it reminded me of Lovecraft's "The Rats in the Walls." That's a good thing. And the shot of the bugs rupturing from the skin gave me my only genuine moment of queasiness throughout the whole movie, in spite of the latex being a bit obvious.
So... my laptop died. I'm typing this on an Asus Transformer that i borrowed from work, to see how it works. Pretty good, but not good enough to attempt more than a few sentences. I watched Dr. Terror's House of Horrors: I'll provide my opinion another day. Wish me luck.
So I go to the VLA conference tomorrow for a couple days, which, you know, it's not quite a vacation, but it is a chance to get away for a bit, maybe see Portsmouth a bit, hopefully see some sessions that aren't just stealth vendors. Except my original roommate isn't going to make it, so instead I have to room with... the Library Director.
I don't tend to sleep very well when I'm away from home anyways, particularly when I'm in a room with someone unfamiliar. I stayed at a friend's apartment in Georgia for a week earlier this month, and that entire vacation was spent with a significant sleep deficit. To be honest, I don't even have an easy time falling asleep when I'm at home: it generally takes anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour for me to actually relax to a point where I can sleep. I'm aware that this isn't normal, and I envy people who can just sort of shut down immediately in such a profound way that I'm sure you could never understand it. And yes, this problem is related to the state of mild anxiety that I tend to live my life in, thanks for letting me know. But my point is that, even with a sleeping pill, I foresee myself waking up several times over the course of tomorrow night, worrying that I might be snoring too loud.
These are the concessions I make, the inconveniences I happily accept, simply because they are part of the glory of being myself.
I love the Tiga album, Ciao!: it's exactly what I need from a dance album, with good beats couple with a sense of playful experimentation. "What You Need" is a good example of this: a lot of the song is just sort of bursts of atonal skronk and oscillating pulses fighting against each other to dominate the track. It's just noise in the beginning, swelling and cracking before the beat arrives to try to give it some order. The actual structure of the song, and it's hooks, are left to the drum machine, voices, and occasional chimes. Tiga is a limited singer at best, and even with a soulful backup singer to sweeten things a bit, he should not be up to the task. The song starts and stops, slows down and speeds up. The song is sort of anarchic, which is something that you don't often associate with dance music: the vigorous necessity of the beat generally prevents this sort of messiness. In short, the song shouldn't work. But it really kind of does.
So today, instead of sticking to my Vincent Price diet, I decided to instead watch Dario Argento's Deep Red. Frankly, I was quite impressed. I had only seen two other Argento films before: Suspira, which I enjoyed but found the score by Goblin to be alternately overwhelming and distracting, and The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, which I remember thinking was very stylish, but nothing I hadn't seen before. This, however, was a tense thriller that I could get into: the plot was compelling, and the colors were lurid. The Goblin score was still occasionally distracting, but it was a little jazzier and more enjoyable. There were bows to Hitchcock throughout the course of the film (The 39 Steps, Dial M For Murder, Psycho), but Argento has his own story to tell, and it never gets to the point of being like Brian De Palma's extended homages to Hitchcock's individual films.
One thing that struck me about it was how fair the director was in the disclosure of the killer's identity. The clues are there throughout the film about who it was, but you only really understand their significance around the same time David Hemmings' character does. An early exchange between him and a female journalist seems to be a sort of extended adversarial flirtation, only to have more meaning once the killer's identity is disclosed. I sort of guessed who the killer was early on, based solely on eye-shape, but questioned that supposition many times over the course of the film.
One thing that bugged me was David Hemmings's character: his obsession with the identity of the murderer is made to seem almost as reckless and destructive as the murders themselves. When he is accused late in the movie for forcing the murders to happen because of his own curiosity, there's really something to that. He's on the scene for something like three murders, and yet never seems inclined to contact the police about them. Indeed, he doesn't seem to be put off by the murders themselves at all, except as an elaborate puzzle for him to solve. He's actually kind of a jerk.
One other thing that I appreciated: there are two gay characters in the movie, and (unlike with Hitchcock) they're actually treated very respectfully, and as genuinely loving. I feared for a long time that one of them would turn out to be the serial killer -- the gays ALWAYS seem to end up being the serial killer -- but *SPOILER ALERT* this does not end up being the case. One of them does get his head run over by a car, but these things happen.
Tonight, in honor of the Halloween season, I watched Theatre of Blood with Vincent Price. It is not in any way great cinema: it's yet another movie where Price takes ghoulish revenge on all the fools that ever doubted him. Standard stuff for him, really, but the magic of Vincent Price is that, no matter how goofy or unbelievable a movie is on its face, I never doubt for a second his commitment to the role, or the fact that he's having a ball playing it.
The movie is not as surreal or as visually inventive as, say, The Abominable Dr. Phibes, and it strains credibility that the critics he is dispatching are quite as oblivious as they turn out to be. I mean, honestly, once a few of your peers have been murdered, wouldn't you be just the teensiest bit suspicious to come home and find that strange people had broke into your home and made you a meal of mystery meat? Also, the identity of his handlebar-mustachioed hippie protege is not quite the mystery that the film seems to think it is. But it is fun seeing him playing a gay hairdresser with an afro (!), and for once he plays opposite a female lead (Diana Rigg) that can match him in the acting department. In short: I love Vincent Price. Tomorrow perhaps I'll finally watch Witchfinder General!
So it's been a couple years since I updated my old blog, and you know what? I kind of miss it. I miss writing, I miss knowing that I have something to say, and I miss the illusion that someone out there is actually paying attention to whatever it is I'm going on about. I mean sure, I have a Tumblr now -- all the cool kids have them, after all -- but I find that that's much more conducive to reblogging pictures of pictures of Brian Eno or Divine or Barbara Stanwyck than it is, say, making a coherent argument that Lady Gaga is neither as good nor as bad as everyone seems to think. Just as an example. And instead of going back to my old blog -- there's so much history there! so much angst! -- I figured I would set this one up as a repository for my random musings and unorthodox approach to punctuation. Expect semicolons, so many semicolons.
Seriously, this fella needs a job as a henchman for the Joker, he's that creepy. And then there's the human woman, introduced at the very beginning of the film, who actually seems to get sexually excited watching her vampire lover drink from and kill a little girl she's brought him from the village. That scene is effectively creepy. As is the fact that the village the movie takes place in is slowly being killed by a strain of rabies carried by the bats in the area: it's clear that the village is dying before the circus comes to town, a victim of an infection within its boundaries, possibly because of a curse left upon it by the vampire they killed at the beginning of the movie. Because of this, the village itself has been quarantined by the government, and anybody who tries to leave it is shot on sight, with nobody allowed to enter the village, either. Nobody, that is, but THE VAMPIRE CIRCUS! It's not a perfect movie, but it is a pretty effective one. Certainly creepier than the other two.
