Allen Ginsberg: Kaddish 1:03:50
Fr. John F. O'Connor: The Homosexual Conspiracy in the Catholic Church (Part 1) 1:01:14
Coil: Queens of the Circulating Library 49:26:00
Fr. John F. O'Connor: The Homosexual Conspiracy in the Catholic Church (Part 2) 46:02
Coil: The Universe Is A Haunted House 40:22
Diamanda Galás: The Black Cat 37:01
Judy Garland: Outraged 35:23
Allen Ginsberg: Howl 32:01
Dr. John: Berenice 27:42
Coil: Tunnel of Goats 27:38:
Coil: 4-Indolol, 3-[2-(Dimethylamino)Ethyl], Phosphate Ester: (Psilocybin) 26:47
Sonic Youth: The Diamond Sea 25:50
Roscoe Lee Brown: The Story of Star Wars (Part 1) 24:51
Roscoe Lee Brown: The Story of Star Wars (Part 2) 24:28
Joe Frank: The Road To Calvary (Part 1) 24:06
Pink Floyd: Echoes 23:29
Coil: 7-Methoxy-β-Carboline: (Telepathine) 23:23
Kyle MacLachlan: Diane... (Part 2) 22:58
Kyle MacLachlan: Diane... (Part 1) 22:43
Coil: MÜ-ÜR 22:40
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
New Music!
What's new this week? Mostly crap. But it's mostly crap every week, isn't it?
Scissor Sisters: Night Work
Every fag in every big city will be buying this. Do you want to be left out? No, you don't. Produced by Stuart Price, who is like the new Giorgio Moroder but without the giant 1970s moustache, so it should be good. Buy it. You want to be cool, don't you? Yes, you do.
Kenny G: Heart and Soul
Kenny G is pretty much a punch line, right? Right. But he keeps releasing CDs. Who buys these? Smooth jazz is the musical equivalent of a barium enema. I guess if you're into that, hop on down to your local Hallmark store and pick up a copy.
Papa Roach: The Best Of Papa Roach
The best of? Must be blank.
John Zorn: The Goddess: Music for the Ancient of Days
Oh Christ. Now, I don't know what's worse, Kenny G's soulless bland "jazz," or Zorn's atonal, unlistenable bullshit. People only buy this because they think it makes them cool. It doesn't.
Robby Krieger: Singularity
You know what's cool about Robby Krieger? He was played by Frank Whaley in that Oliver Stone movie. A new album of jazz guitar fusion. Swell.
3OH!3: Streets of Gold
I don't know anything about 3OH!3 other than they're classified as "dance-pop" by AMG, wevs, but they do take home the award for stupidest band name this week. Congrats!
Howard Shore: Twilight Eclipse Score
Music to flick your bean to while fantasizing about humping a wolf. Hawtness.
Reissue of the Week:
John Fogerty: Centerfield
You know what's great about this album? Fogerty's former label sued Fogerty for copyright infringement, alleging Fogerty ripped off one of his own songs. Whut? Americam justice, suck on that!
Scissor Sisters: Night Work
Every fag in every big city will be buying this. Do you want to be left out? No, you don't. Produced by Stuart Price, who is like the new Giorgio Moroder but without the giant 1970s moustache, so it should be good. Buy it. You want to be cool, don't you? Yes, you do.
Kenny G: Heart and Soul
Kenny G is pretty much a punch line, right? Right. But he keeps releasing CDs. Who buys these? Smooth jazz is the musical equivalent of a barium enema. I guess if you're into that, hop on down to your local Hallmark store and pick up a copy.
Papa Roach: The Best Of Papa Roach
The best of? Must be blank.
John Zorn: The Goddess: Music for the Ancient of Days
Oh Christ. Now, I don't know what's worse, Kenny G's soulless bland "jazz," or Zorn's atonal, unlistenable bullshit. People only buy this because they think it makes them cool. It doesn't.
Robby Krieger: Singularity
You know what's cool about Robby Krieger? He was played by Frank Whaley in that Oliver Stone movie. A new album of jazz guitar fusion. Swell.
3OH!3: Streets of Gold
I don't know anything about 3OH!3 other than they're classified as "dance-pop" by AMG, wevs, but they do take home the award for stupidest band name this week. Congrats!
Howard Shore: Twilight Eclipse Score
Music to flick your bean to while fantasizing about humping a wolf. Hawtness.
Reissue of the Week:
John Fogerty: Centerfield
You know what's great about this album? Fogerty's former label sued Fogerty for copyright infringement, alleging Fogerty ripped off one of his own songs. Whut? Americam justice, suck on that!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Hot Fun in the Summertime
How's this work? Is it a round-robin type thing? Brackets? How is a winner determined? Are there different divisions for pitchers and catchers? Are you penalized for barebacking? And where do I sign up?
[Cross-posted.]
Friday, June 25, 2010
Queer Cinema: HellBent
Here's the final installment in our Pride Month Queer Cinema series. Today: Everybody loves a parade!This film describes itself as the first ever gay slasher film, which is true if you ignore Cruising or A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 or the oeuvre of David DeCoteau. It is, however, the first horror film set (at least as far as I know) during West Hollywood's infamous annual Halloween celebration.
The story follows four young, queer men as they enjoy the festivities, not quite aware they're being stalked by a ruthless serial killer/Colt model. As slasher films go, this one is pretty unremarkable, aside from the slight twist of the lead characters' sexuality. The victims are pursued, and knocked off one by one, as a masked madman takes their pretty little heads. But instead of a dusty summer camp, we've the bathrooms, dance floors, and back alleys of West Hollywood.
Still, it's all just the same: A killer in a Halloween mask chopping up feisty young lovers.
And as with most slasher films, this one oft times becomes implausible to the point of ridiculousness. I seriously doubt someone could have their head hacked off on a crowded dance floor and no one notice. Though, perhaps it's rather comforting to see that a movie aimed at a gay audience can be just as dumb as a heterocentric film of the same ilk. Maybe it means we've finally made it. One more item to cross off the Gay Agenda.
Of course, if you're looking for a film that shatters gay stereotypes, HellBent ain't it. If you're looking for a film that turns horror conventions in its head, HellBent ain't it either. But if you're looking for a mildly entertaining way to kill 85 minutes HellBent will do the trick. Don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed.
In fairness, the film looks pretty good and sounds pretty good (crappy queer-metal soundtrack aside (note to film producers: metal sucks, so stop mucking up our horror films with it)) for one made on a limited budget. It's one of the few movies shot on digital video that doesn't look like shit throughout. The performances are solid and the effects nicely handled. It's just too bad writer-director Etheredge-Ouzts couldn't find a more original story to tell.
Like I said, if you don't expect too much, you won't be disappointed.
Directed by Paul Etheredge-Ouzts • R • 2004 • 85 minutes
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Queer Cinema: Zombie 4: After Death
Pride Month + Queer Cinema = Porn star Jeff Stryker! Today: Porn star Jeff Stryker!
Zombie movies are typically populated with idiots. This film is no exception. Though, these people did have good enough sense to bring along a porn star with a ten inch cock. Okay, so the porn star doesn't do anything special and we never actually get to see his ten inch cock. But, hey, he's there, it's there, that's got to count for something, right?
Jeff Stryker plays Chuck, a researcher researching what happened to a bunch of other researchers on a mysterious island twenty years ago. For a moment it looks like this might really turn into a porno, as Stryker and his two companions (one of whom bears a striking resemblance to Giorgio Moroder, by the way) find their way into a moist and sultry grotto. But instead of getting their fuck on, they find a voodoo altar. There is plenty of bom-chicka-wah-wah music nonetheless.
The woman in this group is smart. Needless to say, she's the first one to die. But before doing so, she astutely notes "If the island's uninhabited, who lit all these candles?" When they find The Book of The Dead, she's the one who pleads for them not to read from it. "Don't do it! It might release evil forces!" I told you she was smart. Unfortunately, her companions aren't as clever. As soon as the incantation is read, zombies leap from the shadows and immediately begin ripping their faces off. (The zombies on this island are particularly fond of face meat, and if I've learned anything from Iron Chef, it's that face meat is very tender.) Only Chuck and his ten inch cock survive.
Now, it needs to be noted, zombies were already running around the island before this, so I can't be sure what the spell book actually did. But elsewhere on the island, a group of mercenaries and their two female companions have become stranded. And one of their party has already been bitten. Not to take the zombie's side, but it was self-defense, as one of the mercs chased and beat him up for no good reason, not even knowing he was one of the undead. One can only assume he was merely looking to beat up a native. Serves him right to get bit if you ask me. Of course, this sets us up for the millionth use of the trite no-one-knows-the-injured-guy-is-really-turning-into-a-zombie cliché. Yawn.
Chuck, the mercenaries, and the two women hole up in an abandoned hospital, surrounded by the flesh eaters outside. As I said, these folks are idiots. For example, despite having M-16 rifles, they often charge up to a zombie to attack at very close range, and are easily overtaken. And when they are attacked, they just stand there and take it. If a zombie was trying to suck out my eyeballs, I'd do my fair share of squirming, ten inch cock or no. One by one, the mercenaries are turned into zombies. The worst part is, the zombified mercs hang onto their rifles. It's one thing to be undead; it's another thing to be undead and armed with automatic weaponry.
Conveniently, one of the women, Jenny, has an amulet around her neck that can close the gates of Hell, which I guess is where all the zombies came from. It turns out she was the lone survivor from the original research party, having escaped the island at the tender age of three. When it's just down to her and Chuck, they head back to the grotto to consult The Book of The Dead once more.
Jenny checks page two and find that closing the gates of Hell is simple, it'll just take the amulet.. and their souls. Oops!
This is Jeff Stryker's sole foray into mainsteam film. It's kind of a shame that his one non-porn work is a film by Claudio Fragasso. I'd tell you this film sucks on ice, but I've already mentioned it's a Fragasso, so I risk redundancy. Aside from the novelty of Stryker, this film has little to offer, especially since he never flashes his ten inch cock.
Directed by Claudio Fragasso • R • 1988 • 85 minutes
Zombie movies are typically populated with idiots. This film is no exception. Though, these people did have good enough sense to bring along a porn star with a ten inch cock. Okay, so the porn star doesn't do anything special and we never actually get to see his ten inch cock. But, hey, he's there, it's there, that's got to count for something, right? Jeff Stryker plays Chuck, a researcher researching what happened to a bunch of other researchers on a mysterious island twenty years ago. For a moment it looks like this might really turn into a porno, as Stryker and his two companions (one of whom bears a striking resemblance to Giorgio Moroder, by the way) find their way into a moist and sultry grotto. But instead of getting their fuck on, they find a voodoo altar. There is plenty of bom-chicka-wah-wah music nonetheless.
The woman in this group is smart. Needless to say, she's the first one to die. But before doing so, she astutely notes "If the island's uninhabited, who lit all these candles?" When they find The Book of The Dead, she's the one who pleads for them not to read from it. "Don't do it! It might release evil forces!" I told you she was smart. Unfortunately, her companions aren't as clever. As soon as the incantation is read, zombies leap from the shadows and immediately begin ripping their faces off. (The zombies on this island are particularly fond of face meat, and if I've learned anything from Iron Chef, it's that face meat is very tender.) Only Chuck and his ten inch cock survive.
Now, it needs to be noted, zombies were already running around the island before this, so I can't be sure what the spell book actually did. But elsewhere on the island, a group of mercenaries and their two female companions have become stranded. And one of their party has already been bitten. Not to take the zombie's side, but it was self-defense, as one of the mercs chased and beat him up for no good reason, not even knowing he was one of the undead. One can only assume he was merely looking to beat up a native. Serves him right to get bit if you ask me. Of course, this sets us up for the millionth use of the trite no-one-knows-the-injured-guy-is-really-turning-into-a-zombie cliché. Yawn.
Chuck, the mercenaries, and the two women hole up in an abandoned hospital, surrounded by the flesh eaters outside. As I said, these folks are idiots. For example, despite having M-16 rifles, they often charge up to a zombie to attack at very close range, and are easily overtaken. And when they are attacked, they just stand there and take it. If a zombie was trying to suck out my eyeballs, I'd do my fair share of squirming, ten inch cock or no. One by one, the mercenaries are turned into zombies. The worst part is, the zombified mercs hang onto their rifles. It's one thing to be undead; it's another thing to be undead and armed with automatic weaponry.
Conveniently, one of the women, Jenny, has an amulet around her neck that can close the gates of Hell, which I guess is where all the zombies came from. It turns out she was the lone survivor from the original research party, having escaped the island at the tender age of three. When it's just down to her and Chuck, they head back to the grotto to consult The Book of The Dead once more.
Jenny checks page two and find that closing the gates of Hell is simple, it'll just take the amulet.. and their souls. Oops!
This is Jeff Stryker's sole foray into mainsteam film. It's kind of a shame that his one non-porn work is a film by Claudio Fragasso. I'd tell you this film sucks on ice, but I've already mentioned it's a Fragasso, so I risk redundancy. Aside from the novelty of Stryker, this film has little to offer, especially since he never flashes his ten inch cock.
Directed by Claudio Fragasso • R • 1988 • 85 minutes
Radio Shakesville
Dream Journal No. 3
I'm at the dentist, and I'm lying down in a bed. And a spider fell from the ceiling and landed on the blanket. The hygienist (played by one of the techs from my vet's office) handed me a rolled-up newspaper and told me to squash it. So I did. Then I noticed more spider webs hanging above the bed. I got up to get a better look and saw a huge web with like hundreds of spiders. Then a snake slithered across the bed. Eep! Then another! Then another! So I walked out of the examination room, and told the staff I was leaving. But they were having a meeting and paid no attention to me. I apparently left my shoes in back by the bed. Out in the parking lot I see another snake. Except this one is huge. (Hello, Dr. Freud!) Like Anaconda-starring-Ice-Cube huge. A stranger shows up and starts fighting the snake. He punches the snake, and the snake bites him, and he says shit like "bad snake." This thing is his pet. Also, it's the middle of the night for some reason. After a while the man throws the snake into the passenger seat of his truck and drives off. The hygienist shows up, my shoes in hand. I ask her if she saw the snake fight.
[Cross-posted.]
[Cross-posted.]
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Queer Cinema: The Tenderness of Wolves
What is this, the 400th installment in the Queer Cinema series? Something like that. Today: Hey, that's not pork! (I originally posted this in March.)
Post-war Germany was an unpleasant place, especially with Fritz Haarman running around.
Fritz liked boys, preferably somewhere between 13 and 20 years old. Though, he was not at all averse to those half that age, should he find one. Yes, he liked boys. He liked to have sex with them and kill them. Not always in that order either.
When he was through with them, Fritz (Kurt Raab) would butcher the lads and give the "pork chops" to his friends. They never questioned his unending supply of The Other White Meat. Maybe they were just happy to have something to eat beside sawdust soup.
The film moves at a deliberate pace, following Fritz as he cons and hustles during the day, and preys on runaways at night. His neighbors may be suspicious, but the cops aren't, due in large part to Fritz being an undercover informant for them. It's only after the bodies start stacking up and the city verges on panic that the police take a closer look at their best snitch.
The most unsettling aspect of the film may be Raab's performance. His Fritz isn't the despicable monster you might expect. He's actually kind of likable, and his ineffectual manner makes him seem harmless. But maybe that was the point. Real life monsters rarely appear as such; they don't reveal themselves until it is far too late.
That's the kicker, too: This is based on a true story.
Save for one gruesome scene, the violence here occurs off screen. Personally, that's okay with me, as I didn't much need to actually see the murders to find the film engaging. Though, rumor has it the German print runs nearly 15 minutes longer than the American edition, for better or for worse.
If you can stomach the subject matter, this is a worthwhile film. Excellent performances all around, especially Raab and (his frequent collaborator) Fassbinder.
Directed by Ulli Lommel • Unrated • 1973 • 82 minutes
Post-war Germany was an unpleasant place, especially with Fritz Haarman running around. Fritz liked boys, preferably somewhere between 13 and 20 years old. Though, he was not at all averse to those half that age, should he find one. Yes, he liked boys. He liked to have sex with them and kill them. Not always in that order either.
When he was through with them, Fritz (Kurt Raab) would butcher the lads and give the "pork chops" to his friends. They never questioned his unending supply of The Other White Meat. Maybe they were just happy to have something to eat beside sawdust soup.
The film moves at a deliberate pace, following Fritz as he cons and hustles during the day, and preys on runaways at night. His neighbors may be suspicious, but the cops aren't, due in large part to Fritz being an undercover informant for them. It's only after the bodies start stacking up and the city verges on panic that the police take a closer look at their best snitch.
The most unsettling aspect of the film may be Raab's performance. His Fritz isn't the despicable monster you might expect. He's actually kind of likable, and his ineffectual manner makes him seem harmless. But maybe that was the point. Real life monsters rarely appear as such; they don't reveal themselves until it is far too late.
That's the kicker, too: This is based on a true story.
Save for one gruesome scene, the violence here occurs off screen. Personally, that's okay with me, as I didn't much need to actually see the murders to find the film engaging. Though, rumor has it the German print runs nearly 15 minutes longer than the American edition, for better or for worse.
If you can stomach the subject matter, this is a worthwhile film. Excellent performances all around, especially Raab and (his frequent collaborator) Fassbinder.
Directed by Ulli Lommel • Unrated • 1973 • 82 minutes
Cactus Play
I took the day off work. I had planned to spend it indoors, playing Xbox, watching Nash Bridges reruns and generally wanking about. But first, I thought I'd mow the lawn, before it got too hot. Well, one thing lead to another, and what was supposed to be my relaxing day off turned into yard work-athon. And the supposed short trip to Homo Depot for some topsoil and mulch, ended with me buying three cacti. Then after I potted those, I went back and bought six more. And, well, there were some extra pots, so I transplanted a couple lilies too.
By the end of the afternoon, I'd not spent a moment playing video games. But I had done this:
That bench was empty this morning.
Not a bad day off after all.
[Cross-posted.]
By the end of the afternoon, I'd not spent a moment playing video games. But I had done this:
That bench was empty this morning.
Not a bad day off after all.
[Cross-posted.]
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
New Music!
It's Tuesday, which means new release day for music. There's a whole lot of new shit out today. Emphasis on shit. Rush down to Best Buy or Amazon or BitTorrent and get yours ASAP!
Miley Cyrus: Can't Be Tamed
Hannah Montana grows up. Or something. There's about a fifty/fifty chance this will suck. Color me disinterested.
Eminem: Recovery
The idiot manchild of white rap returns. Or something. I thought he retired to concentrate on marrying and divorcing and marrying and divorcing his ex-ex-ex-wife. There is a 85% chance this will suck. Irrelevancy, your name is Marshall Mathers.
The Chemical Brothers: Further
Speaking of irrelevant. People are still buying electronica albums? People are still making electronica albums? Hey, I used to love these guys. But the E's since worn off. Chance of sucking: 75%.
Ozzy Osbourne: Scream
What's he, like 9,000 years old now? No one that old should be putting out "metal" albums. Odds this album with suck and blow: (Ozzy's age x pi) / (100).
Cyndi Lauper: Memphis Blues
Rich, white woman sings "the blues." Chances this will put me to sleep: 1000%.
Vince Neil: Tattoos & Tequila
No. Just... No.
Laurie Anderson: Homeland
Chances this will suck: 1 in 10. Chance I'll ever listen to this: 1 in 20. It's art rock. Good for her. Too bad I just don't care.
Reissue of the Week:
Clint Eastwood: Rawhide's Clint Eastwood Sings Cowboy Favorites
Chances of this sucking in 1963: 3 in 5. Chances of this sucking in 2010: 5 in 3. Why? Time travel, that's why! This is the future, get used to it.
Miley Cyrus: Can't Be Tamed
Hannah Montana grows up. Or something. There's about a fifty/fifty chance this will suck. Color me disinterested.
Eminem: Recovery
The idiot manchild of white rap returns. Or something. I thought he retired to concentrate on marrying and divorcing and marrying and divorcing his ex-ex-ex-wife. There is a 85% chance this will suck. Irrelevancy, your name is Marshall Mathers.
The Chemical Brothers: Further
Speaking of irrelevant. People are still buying electronica albums? People are still making electronica albums? Hey, I used to love these guys. But the E's since worn off. Chance of sucking: 75%.
Ozzy Osbourne: Scream
What's he, like 9,000 years old now? No one that old should be putting out "metal" albums. Odds this album with suck and blow: (Ozzy's age x pi) / (100).
Cyndi Lauper: Memphis Blues
Rich, white woman sings "the blues." Chances this will put me to sleep: 1000%.
Vince Neil: Tattoos & Tequila
No. Just... No.
Laurie Anderson: Homeland
Chances this will suck: 1 in 10. Chance I'll ever listen to this: 1 in 20. It's art rock. Good for her. Too bad I just don't care.
Reissue of the Week:
Clint Eastwood: Rawhide's Clint Eastwood Sings Cowboy Favorites
Chances of this sucking in 1963: 3 in 5. Chances of this sucking in 2010: 5 in 3. Why? Time travel, that's why! This is the future, get used to it.
Queer Cinema: The Old Dark House
Our Pride Month Queer Cinema Filmfest continues. Today: Queens in black and white!The Femms are one of the oddest families this side of Mockingbird Lane. When a fierce storm forces five strangers to seek refuge in their secluded Welsh manse, we get a brief glimpse of one severely dysfunctional family.
The guests are greeted by Morgan (Boris Karloff), the lumbering mute butler. He glares, serves dinner, and occasionally knocks over a table. When drunk, he is liable to attack both guests and family members at random. He's drunk often, it seems.
Horace Femm welcomes the strangers into the house, somewhat reluctantly. He's a wispy, effeminate man, wanted by the police, something he admits with glee. When not suggesting dinner guests have a potato, Horace (Ernest Thesiger) is keen on enticing visitors to his bedroom. "There are one or two things I should very much like for you to see." I hope one of those things is not his butthole.
Then there is Rebecca Femm, head of the house. She's a bitter, angry lesbian, whose only joy seems to be damning those around her and grabbing the intermittent female breast. Apparently she was never invited to the family orgies and still holds a grudge over it. She's mostly deaf and would rather the guests didn't stay the night.
As for the travelers, they're an odd lot too. We've a boorish capitalist named Sir Porterhouse (Charles Laughton) and his whore girlfriend. (She's a prostitute by profession.) Also present are Philip Waverton, a man who is clearly homosexual, his long-suffering wife, and their friend, Roger Penderel, a third wheel if there ever was one (why he's tagging along with them is never explained.)
When the electricity finally goes, it's up to Horace to fetch the only oil lamp in the house. Unfortunately, it's been left on the third floor, and he's too much the sissy to go all the way up there. He cons Waverton into getting it.
Along the way Waverton makes a few discoveries, including two more members of the Femm family: Roderick Femm, the 102 year old patriarch (mysteriously played by a woman), and Saul, the pyromaniac nutcase whose only desire is to torch the place and stab as many people as possible. Good times.
Penderel uses the downtime to steal Porterhouse's girl, which she confesses he has no sexual interest in anyway. (Hello! Charles Laughton!) She promises to make a useful man out of Penderel, that is, if Saul doesn't kill them all first.
A head-scratchingly bizarre film, made by a bunch of homos, starring a bunch of homos, about a bunch of homos. In 1932.
Directed by James Whale • Unrated • 1932 • 72 minutes
Monday, June 21, 2010
Guess Who's Still An Enormous Douche
Comedic genius and all-around bigot Mike Huckabee wants you to know "The only thing worse than a torrid affair with sweet, sweet Nancy would be a torrid affair with Helen Thomas. If those were my only options, I'd probably be FOR same-sex marriage!" Har har!
He's joking! Of course! Because he is totally not for gay marriage. And why not? The ick factor! Duh!
"We can get into the ick factor, but the fact is two men in a relationship, two women in a relationship, biologically, that doesn't work the same," says Huckabee.
Also: Huckabee = biologically a genius! Because when a man sucks another man's dick, it is totes different, biologically, plus when a woman licks a woman's clit, biologically, it doesn't work the same! Ick!
Or something.
[Cross-posted.]
He's joking! Of course! Because he is totally not for gay marriage. And why not? The ick factor! Duh!
"We can get into the ick factor, but the fact is two men in a relationship, two women in a relationship, biologically, that doesn't work the same," says Huckabee.
Also: Huckabee = biologically a genius! Because when a man sucks another man's dick, it is totes different, biologically, plus when a woman licks a woman's clit, biologically, it doesn't work the same! Ick!
Or something.
[Cross-posted.]
Queer Cinema: 976-EVIL
Pride Month, gay movies, blah blah blah. Today: What's that P.I. doing in the boy's locker room?
Part-time gay porn star Stephen Geoffreys plays teenage Hoax Wilmoth: a good Christian, lover of spiders, and all around mama's boy. Besides appearing completely, totally socially inept, he's seriously in the running for stupidest character name in any movie ever.
Hoax lives with his single mother, played by Sandy Dennis with giant hair, too many cats to count, and furniture covered in plastic. The house is covered in religious icons, and televangelists constantly blare from the TV. At first, I thought she was supposed to be a caricature, but I came to realize they were playing this straight. Surely, this makes her appear more buffoonish than she already seems, and the old "religion is bad" cliché was long since worn out by 1989. Next door is cousin Spike, a bad boy with a motorcycle and a gambling problem.
Spike is due to inherit some money when he comes of age, but in the meantime, his Aunt Lucy refuses to give him any cash. After all, his momma did a horrible job raising him, what with his affection for bad girls and rockabilly music. But Spike is not above breaking in and stealing the occasional wad of cash from Aunt Lucy and Hoax. One night when Lucy catches Spike in the act, her sermon on the Eighth Commandment is interrupted when it starts raining fish.
Now, it's pretty clear Hoax has something of a crush on Spike, who's a Peter Berg look-alike in a world that has no need for a Peter Berg look-alike. Hoax follows him around at school, spies on him having sex, and sends him notes through the vacuum tube system they've installed between the houses (don't ask me to explain that one because I just don’t know). When Spike isn't around, Hoax sneaks into his place and steals his girlfriend's underwear. Otherwise Hoax spends his free time crashing his scooter or being assaulted in the boy's room by Spike's gambling buddies.
When word gets out about the rain of fish, Marty Palmer (Jim Metzler) shows up to interview Lucy. Palmer is either a reporter posing as a private eye, or a private eye posing as a reporter. It doesn’t make sense that a reporter would pose as a P.I. anymore than a P.I. would investigate fish falling from the sky, or why either would be hanging around the boy's locker room. What purpose he does serve is to provide some expository moments (i.e. padding) later in the film. Also, near the end he abruptly acquires a girlfriend, for the sole purpose that she can be put in peril. Of course, there is no emotional investment in that character, so you really don’t care when she stumbles into danger. Not to mention, despite appearances to the contrary, she's not very smart. I mean, if you walk into a house and it's snowing inside, just stop, turn around and go home. Assume that some freaky shit is going on and you don't want any part of it.
But I am getting ahead of myself...
Spike finds a flyer for a horoscope 976 number mysteriously tucked into his pocket. (Remember that, the whole evil phone number plot of the title? Yeah, it actually plays only a small part in the film.) He begins calling the number regularly and is offered up kindly advice in a voice that sounds vaguely like Mr. Burns, mostly suggesting he steal. When Spike chickens out of shoplifting a pair of motorcycle gloves, the 976 number starts calling him, sort of like a satanic telemarketer. (Yes, I know that's redundant.) When the voice can't coax him to steal, it warns him against crossing the street without looking both ways. Moments later Spike is nearly run down by a black car with tinted windows. Luckily Palmer tackles him and knocks him out of harm's way. Palmer seems more stalker than reporter/P.I. but he does save a couple lives, so he earns his keep, I guess.
While snooping at Spike's place, Hoax discovers the flyer and calls 976-EVIL for his horoscope (or "horrorscope" as it reads). "Your problem's not nearly as bad as it seems, just take in a late show and meet the girl of your dreams." And off Hoax heads to El Diablo Theatre where he meets up with Spike's girlfriend Suzie. Spike has ditched her to play poker, and she's none too happy about it. But Hoax and her hit it off immediately; it seems the horoscope was right. But their little date is interrupted by the poker gang who rough up Hoax, as is the custom. During the ruckus, Suzie's underwear falls from Hoax's pocket and she realizes he's a jerk like every other guy she knows.
Heartbroken and dejected, Hoax calls the 976 number looking for more advice. What's he get? Detailed plans on getting his revenge: Specifically how to make hundreds of venomous spiders pop out of her TV dinner. Actually, what Hoax is told is "small circle of salt and star within, adding an insect will punish her sin." Hoax is intuitive enough to figure out how this poem translates into a black magic curse, which I guess makes him some sort of idiot savant of the dark arts.
Hoax immediately regrets his actions as the spiders overwhelm Suzie and bite her to death. He only wanted to scare her, but you know what? Everyone says that when they accidentally kill a young girl, and it's rarely true. This pisses off Spike, and Palmer gets a little curious about the 976 number, but otherwise, no one seems to notice she's dead.
Palmer heads down to After Dark Enterprises, proprietor of the 976 line, and meets with manager Mark Dark. He finds nothing out of the ordinary, thus proving he's worthless as both a P.I. and a reporter. Dark shows Palmer the automated horoscope machine and tells him it's been shut off for months. Cue ominous music. I'm not sure why everyone in this movie is willing to show Palmer just about anything he asks, but it sure is helpful.
Later that night when Hoax returns home his mother is waiting there, phone bill in hand with more than a few stern words for him. Now, mind you, this is the day after Hoax first called the 976 number, meaning the phone company here has the most efficient and speedy billing you'll ever see. Lucy confiscates his phone, though she places the blame squarely on Spike's head for leading her poor son astray.
Phone bill notwithstanding, Hoax’' deal with the devil isn't without its price. No, Hoax is starting to turn, to mutate, into a demon of some sort. That is, his hair starts to fall out, his skin gets leathery and he grows some very useful claws. The next time he's harried in the john, Hoax slashes one of the hood's faces and warns him worse will happen if they ever touch him again.
Back at home, Hoax reclaims his phone, telling his mother if she values her life she'll leave him alone. Mom is shocked, clearly. What the devil has got into her son? Hoax dials up 976-EVIL where he is urged to "Take it... [not the last time Geoffreys would hear those words, by the way] Take the power!" And so he does, thereby flashing blue and completing his transformation into what looks like a hellish cross between Michael Jackson and Gollum.
Meanwhile, across town, Palmer has broken into After Dark Enterprises for some reason. He's even brought along his new girlfriend. Apparently when she's not busy with her work as principal of the high school, she likes to go on burglaries with her P.I./reporter boyfriend. Palmer discovers that Mark Dark has lied, and the 976-EVIL service is still in business. Overhearing Hoax's voice on the machine, Palmer somehow recognizes him, despite having never actually spoken to him. Palmer and Girlfriend rush to find him.
Hoax himself has gone out, deciding to settle the score with the bullies who've tormented him. He finds them all playing strip poker. Having taken it, and turned into the Jackson/Gollum beast, Hoax is able to yank two of the boys' hearts out and fling them at the others. Another boy is impaled on a neon pitchfork, while the leader of the gang has his hand chopped off. And despite this being an R rated film, none of this is actually shown on screen. I'm not a fan of gore, but it’s just a shame when a modern horror film wimps out.
After running through the standard kicking-in-the-door-of-every-stall-in-the-restroom-til-I-find-you-hiding-in-the-last-one routine, Hoax kills the last of his tormentors (again, off screen) before heading home to mother. None too pleased with his insolence she threatens to go after him with a strap. Not a wise thing to say to a demon, as Hoax kills her and her parrot. He leaves the cats alone for some reason.
Palmer and Girlfriend arrive at Hoax’s, and Palmer manages to immediately knock himself out. Like most everything he does, it serves only to move the plot forward in the necessary direction. In this case, it allows Girlfriend the opportunity to stroll into the house alone. As I mentioned earlier, the interior of the house is now covered in blasphemous graffiti and blanketed in snow. And unlike an intelligent person, who'd likely say something along the lines of "fuck this" before turning right around and fleeing, she walks in as if it’s nothing but a little chilly.
This all leads to a final fight between Hoax and Spike, as the floor of the house caves in to reveal a bottomless pit, as if hell itself has frozen over and is reaching up through their basement. Hoax mumbles something about the apocalypse before Spike tries the old I-know-there's-still-some-good-in-you business, giving him the much needed edge to knock Hoax to his doom.
There follows one final twist after this featuring Mark Dark that leaves you scratching your head more than anything. It's a sort of "Huh?" moment that attempts to be spooky and ends up being rather dumb.
Not long after this, Geoffreys's career in Hollywood stalled. he then spent the better part of a decade working in gay porn. I've not actually seen of his adult oeuvre, and can't tell you what type of roles he played, if you know what I mean. It seems of late, he's been appearing in the occasional mainstream horror flick. It's nice to know he's found his place, once again, in the horror genre playing the quirky, offbeat characters he was known for.
Directed by Robert Englund • R • 1989 • 92 minutes
Part-time gay porn star Stephen Geoffreys plays teenage Hoax Wilmoth: a good Christian, lover of spiders, and all around mama's boy. Besides appearing completely, totally socially inept, he's seriously in the running for stupidest character name in any movie ever. Hoax lives with his single mother, played by Sandy Dennis with giant hair, too many cats to count, and furniture covered in plastic. The house is covered in religious icons, and televangelists constantly blare from the TV. At first, I thought she was supposed to be a caricature, but I came to realize they were playing this straight. Surely, this makes her appear more buffoonish than she already seems, and the old "religion is bad" cliché was long since worn out by 1989. Next door is cousin Spike, a bad boy with a motorcycle and a gambling problem.
Spike is due to inherit some money when he comes of age, but in the meantime, his Aunt Lucy refuses to give him any cash. After all, his momma did a horrible job raising him, what with his affection for bad girls and rockabilly music. But Spike is not above breaking in and stealing the occasional wad of cash from Aunt Lucy and Hoax. One night when Lucy catches Spike in the act, her sermon on the Eighth Commandment is interrupted when it starts raining fish.
Now, it's pretty clear Hoax has something of a crush on Spike, who's a Peter Berg look-alike in a world that has no need for a Peter Berg look-alike. Hoax follows him around at school, spies on him having sex, and sends him notes through the vacuum tube system they've installed between the houses (don't ask me to explain that one because I just don’t know). When Spike isn't around, Hoax sneaks into his place and steals his girlfriend's underwear. Otherwise Hoax spends his free time crashing his scooter or being assaulted in the boy's room by Spike's gambling buddies.
When word gets out about the rain of fish, Marty Palmer (Jim Metzler) shows up to interview Lucy. Palmer is either a reporter posing as a private eye, or a private eye posing as a reporter. It doesn’t make sense that a reporter would pose as a P.I. anymore than a P.I. would investigate fish falling from the sky, or why either would be hanging around the boy's locker room. What purpose he does serve is to provide some expository moments (i.e. padding) later in the film. Also, near the end he abruptly acquires a girlfriend, for the sole purpose that she can be put in peril. Of course, there is no emotional investment in that character, so you really don’t care when she stumbles into danger. Not to mention, despite appearances to the contrary, she's not very smart. I mean, if you walk into a house and it's snowing inside, just stop, turn around and go home. Assume that some freaky shit is going on and you don't want any part of it.
But I am getting ahead of myself...
Spike finds a flyer for a horoscope 976 number mysteriously tucked into his pocket. (Remember that, the whole evil phone number plot of the title? Yeah, it actually plays only a small part in the film.) He begins calling the number regularly and is offered up kindly advice in a voice that sounds vaguely like Mr. Burns, mostly suggesting he steal. When Spike chickens out of shoplifting a pair of motorcycle gloves, the 976 number starts calling him, sort of like a satanic telemarketer. (Yes, I know that's redundant.) When the voice can't coax him to steal, it warns him against crossing the street without looking both ways. Moments later Spike is nearly run down by a black car with tinted windows. Luckily Palmer tackles him and knocks him out of harm's way. Palmer seems more stalker than reporter/P.I. but he does save a couple lives, so he earns his keep, I guess.
While snooping at Spike's place, Hoax discovers the flyer and calls 976-EVIL for his horoscope (or "horrorscope" as it reads). "Your problem's not nearly as bad as it seems, just take in a late show and meet the girl of your dreams." And off Hoax heads to El Diablo Theatre where he meets up with Spike's girlfriend Suzie. Spike has ditched her to play poker, and she's none too happy about it. But Hoax and her hit it off immediately; it seems the horoscope was right. But their little date is interrupted by the poker gang who rough up Hoax, as is the custom. During the ruckus, Suzie's underwear falls from Hoax's pocket and she realizes he's a jerk like every other guy she knows.
Heartbroken and dejected, Hoax calls the 976 number looking for more advice. What's he get? Detailed plans on getting his revenge: Specifically how to make hundreds of venomous spiders pop out of her TV dinner. Actually, what Hoax is told is "small circle of salt and star within, adding an insect will punish her sin." Hoax is intuitive enough to figure out how this poem translates into a black magic curse, which I guess makes him some sort of idiot savant of the dark arts.
Hoax immediately regrets his actions as the spiders overwhelm Suzie and bite her to death. He only wanted to scare her, but you know what? Everyone says that when they accidentally kill a young girl, and it's rarely true. This pisses off Spike, and Palmer gets a little curious about the 976 number, but otherwise, no one seems to notice she's dead.
Palmer heads down to After Dark Enterprises, proprietor of the 976 line, and meets with manager Mark Dark. He finds nothing out of the ordinary, thus proving he's worthless as both a P.I. and a reporter. Dark shows Palmer the automated horoscope machine and tells him it's been shut off for months. Cue ominous music. I'm not sure why everyone in this movie is willing to show Palmer just about anything he asks, but it sure is helpful.
Later that night when Hoax returns home his mother is waiting there, phone bill in hand with more than a few stern words for him. Now, mind you, this is the day after Hoax first called the 976 number, meaning the phone company here has the most efficient and speedy billing you'll ever see. Lucy confiscates his phone, though she places the blame squarely on Spike's head for leading her poor son astray.
Phone bill notwithstanding, Hoax’' deal with the devil isn't without its price. No, Hoax is starting to turn, to mutate, into a demon of some sort. That is, his hair starts to fall out, his skin gets leathery and he grows some very useful claws. The next time he's harried in the john, Hoax slashes one of the hood's faces and warns him worse will happen if they ever touch him again.
Back at home, Hoax reclaims his phone, telling his mother if she values her life she'll leave him alone. Mom is shocked, clearly. What the devil has got into her son? Hoax dials up 976-EVIL where he is urged to "Take it... [not the last time Geoffreys would hear those words, by the way] Take the power!" And so he does, thereby flashing blue and completing his transformation into what looks like a hellish cross between Michael Jackson and Gollum.
Meanwhile, across town, Palmer has broken into After Dark Enterprises for some reason. He's even brought along his new girlfriend. Apparently when she's not busy with her work as principal of the high school, she likes to go on burglaries with her P.I./reporter boyfriend. Palmer discovers that Mark Dark has lied, and the 976-EVIL service is still in business. Overhearing Hoax's voice on the machine, Palmer somehow recognizes him, despite having never actually spoken to him. Palmer and Girlfriend rush to find him.
Hoax himself has gone out, deciding to settle the score with the bullies who've tormented him. He finds them all playing strip poker. Having taken it, and turned into the Jackson/Gollum beast, Hoax is able to yank two of the boys' hearts out and fling them at the others. Another boy is impaled on a neon pitchfork, while the leader of the gang has his hand chopped off. And despite this being an R rated film, none of this is actually shown on screen. I'm not a fan of gore, but it’s just a shame when a modern horror film wimps out.
After running through the standard kicking-in-the-door-of-every-stall-in-the-restroom-til-I-find-you-hiding-in-the-last-one routine, Hoax kills the last of his tormentors (again, off screen) before heading home to mother. None too pleased with his insolence she threatens to go after him with a strap. Not a wise thing to say to a demon, as Hoax kills her and her parrot. He leaves the cats alone for some reason.
Palmer and Girlfriend arrive at Hoax’s, and Palmer manages to immediately knock himself out. Like most everything he does, it serves only to move the plot forward in the necessary direction. In this case, it allows Girlfriend the opportunity to stroll into the house alone. As I mentioned earlier, the interior of the house is now covered in blasphemous graffiti and blanketed in snow. And unlike an intelligent person, who'd likely say something along the lines of "fuck this" before turning right around and fleeing, she walks in as if it’s nothing but a little chilly.
This all leads to a final fight between Hoax and Spike, as the floor of the house caves in to reveal a bottomless pit, as if hell itself has frozen over and is reaching up through their basement. Hoax mumbles something about the apocalypse before Spike tries the old I-know-there's-still-some-good-in-you business, giving him the much needed edge to knock Hoax to his doom.
There follows one final twist after this featuring Mark Dark that leaves you scratching your head more than anything. It's a sort of "Huh?" moment that attempts to be spooky and ends up being rather dumb.
Not long after this, Geoffreys's career in Hollywood stalled. he then spent the better part of a decade working in gay porn. I've not actually seen of his adult oeuvre, and can't tell you what type of roles he played, if you know what I mean. It seems of late, he's been appearing in the occasional mainstream horror flick. It's nice to know he's found his place, once again, in the horror genre playing the quirky, offbeat characters he was known for.
Directed by Robert Englund • R • 1989 • 92 minutes
Whatever Happened To Barret Oliver?
You remember Barret Oliver, don't you? Yes? No? Maybe? Well, I do. We were roughly the same age, and growing up, he was in a lot of my favourite movies. He was totally cute, and was in a bunch of rad movies, so he held a special place in my heart. He was in the totally awesome The NeverEnding Story and got to ride a luckdragon, and that is a great movie about being a total book nerd, which I was back then, so yeah, that was rad. Plus he was in D.A.R.Y.L. and who didn't want to be a robot when they were a kid? (Yeah, I know, technically the Data Analyzing Robot Youth Lifeform was more a cyborg than a robot, per se, but whatever, his best friend was Danny Corkill and his dad was Michael McKean, so, you know, let's not quibble.) Besides The NeverEnding Story and D.A.R.Y.L. he was in both Cocoon movies. Plus he was the titular Frankenweenie in Tim Burton's directorial debut and lots of TV crap too. And then, poof! He just disappeared. It's like he jumped on Falkor and rode of to Fantasia or something and is now hanging out with Moonchild and Atreyu and Deep Roy. He's been a ghost for twenty years. So where is he now?
I don't know. But I've come up with some excellent theories:
1) Works as a actuary by day, a bluesman by night.
2) iPhone app developer. Most popular creation: iFart.
3) Moved to Norway. Works part-time as a cod fisherman.
4) Still in Hollywood. Shopping around spec script for Cocoon 3.
5) Cashed out his The NeverEnding Story trust fund. Went on four month coke binge. Now lives in Yuma with his mother.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Queer Cinema: Fright Night
Pride Month = Horror movies. Or something. Today: Big, gay vampires!Charlie Brewster has a problem: A vampire has moved in next door. Rather than being neighborly, Charlie has started snooping on him. And the vampire, suave antiques dealer Jerry Dandridge, not being so neighborly himself, he has started killing prostitutes.
Charlie tries to convince the cops what's going on. Needless to say the police think he's perhaps a wee bit unstable. When talking to the cops fails, Charlie turns to late-night horror movie host Peter Vincent. Despite appearing in dozens of movies as the Great Vampire Killer, Vincent really isn't much more than a foppish, broken and broke old man on the verge of being evicted.
Of course, the vampire and his live-in handyman aren't too pleased with all Charlie's interference. When an attempt to kill Charlie is thwarted, the baddies enact another plan.
First they seduce his best friend Evil Ed to the dark side, though it didn't seem a very long trip. Then they abduct his girlfriend. As is common in vampire tales, she bears a striking resemblance to a long-dead love. Obviously it was someone Dandridge knew before he met his current handyman.
So, it's up to Charlie and Vincent to defeat the vampire and rescue the girl. All they've got as a box of old film props and the vague notion of what might kill a monster.
Now, horror-comedy is a phrase that rarely elicits much excitement from me. As a genre, it is woefully deficient. Most attempts to meld comedy into horror turn out largely unfunny and worse yet, not at all scary. Fright Night is a rare example of a successful take on that genre.
The film is smart enough to rely on good characterization and solid storytelling in favor of flashy special effects. That's not to say there is a shortage of monsters or blood in this. No, the creature effects are good, but they're not overbearing or obnoxious.
For example, the scene with the wolf creature is excellent, not only because the fine makeup work, but due largely to McDowell's performance. His fear quickly fades to pity and sorrow. He genuinely seems to understand that what can appear monstrous on the outside is underneath, more often than not, a human being, naked and suffering.
That of course brings us to the oft-discussed queer subtext of the film. It's an age-old plot construct that the chief villain has an assistant. But nowadays, when an antiques dealer and his "roommate" move into the neighborhood, there's little doubt what's really going on. Or, as Charlie's mother puts it "With my luck they're probably gay." Probably?
And is it any surprise that three of the leads are played by homosexuals, including some-time street hustler and gay porn star Stephen Geoffreys? When Dandridge puts out his hand and tells Ed he knows what it's like to be different, that no one will ever beat him up again, the subtext is pretty clear.
But no matter how you look at Fright Night, it is an enjoyable and highly memorable film.
Directed by Tom Holland • R • 1985 • 106 minutes
Thursday, June 17, 2010
For Some Reason There's A New Smurfs Movie Coming Out
Also, Smurfs Theme + Wild Thing = I've died and gone to Hell.
[Cross-posted.]
Queer Cinema: Querelle
It's Pride Month, and so I'm stolling down Queer Cinema Lane. Today: Sodomy and sailors!
Rainer Werner Fassbinder's final film is philosophical, poetic, otherworldly, adapted from Jean Genet's novel, with a screenplay by Fassbinder and Kurt Raab, that is as much about a beautiful young sailor on shore leave as it is a meditation on homosexuality and violence.
Querelle (Brad Davis) arrives on the shores of Brest, France, looking to sell a cache of heroin, and maybe hoping to find himself along the way. Too bad who Querelle turns out to be is a despicable little cur. First chance he gets, he slits his partner's throat, and by the end of the film he's framed the man he loves for the crime.
And while Querelle is the films apparent hero, there is nothing at all likable about him. He's a murderer, he betrays all around him, he's manipulative, narcissistic, a liar, and yet he's clever enough, charming enough, and just good looking enough to get away with it all.
What makes this such a compelling film is the way Fassbinder presents the story. It's staged on sets that look like they've come straight from Disneyland: this is a fantasy world, not reality. The dialogue is delivered in a purposefully stilted manner; Davis's performance is such that he is merely reciting his lines, devoid of any emotion.
The story is further augmented by three different forms of narration. There are intermittent title cards throughout, sometimes quoting Genet, sometimes quoting others, like Plutarch. Plus there is an actual narrator furthering the tale, giving voice, literally, to Genet's prose. Thirdly, there is Lieutenant Seblon, Querelle's captain, who moves through the film in his own subplot as a man whose unrequited love consumes him. He constantly philosophizes into his handheld tape recorder, espousing on Querelle's beauty, his dedication to his fellow sailor, his own inability to posses the young sailor.
The film wavers between the vulgar and the sublime. Our narrator tells us "humility can only be born of humiliation, otherwise it is nothing but vanity." And when Nono, barkeep and brothel manager tells of his conquest of Querelle, he notes "when I pulled my cock out it was covered with shit, if you want to know."
Everything about the film creates a sense of detachment: the sets, the dialogue, the performances, and in a way manages to capture the essence of Genet's lyrical novel, a tale that is less about traditional plot conventions, but more the author's philosophy that violence and homosexuality are inextricably linked.
Directed by Rainer Werner Maria Fassbinder • R • 1982 • 108 minutes
Rainer Werner Fassbinder's final film is philosophical, poetic, otherworldly, adapted from Jean Genet's novel, with a screenplay by Fassbinder and Kurt Raab, that is as much about a beautiful young sailor on shore leave as it is a meditation on homosexuality and violence. Querelle (Brad Davis) arrives on the shores of Brest, France, looking to sell a cache of heroin, and maybe hoping to find himself along the way. Too bad who Querelle turns out to be is a despicable little cur. First chance he gets, he slits his partner's throat, and by the end of the film he's framed the man he loves for the crime.
And while Querelle is the films apparent hero, there is nothing at all likable about him. He's a murderer, he betrays all around him, he's manipulative, narcissistic, a liar, and yet he's clever enough, charming enough, and just good looking enough to get away with it all.
What makes this such a compelling film is the way Fassbinder presents the story. It's staged on sets that look like they've come straight from Disneyland: this is a fantasy world, not reality. The dialogue is delivered in a purposefully stilted manner; Davis's performance is such that he is merely reciting his lines, devoid of any emotion.
The story is further augmented by three different forms of narration. There are intermittent title cards throughout, sometimes quoting Genet, sometimes quoting others, like Plutarch. Plus there is an actual narrator furthering the tale, giving voice, literally, to Genet's prose. Thirdly, there is Lieutenant Seblon, Querelle's captain, who moves through the film in his own subplot as a man whose unrequited love consumes him. He constantly philosophizes into his handheld tape recorder, espousing on Querelle's beauty, his dedication to his fellow sailor, his own inability to posses the young sailor.
The film wavers between the vulgar and the sublime. Our narrator tells us "humility can only be born of humiliation, otherwise it is nothing but vanity." And when Nono, barkeep and brothel manager tells of his conquest of Querelle, he notes "when I pulled my cock out it was covered with shit, if you want to know."
Everything about the film creates a sense of detachment: the sets, the dialogue, the performances, and in a way manages to capture the essence of Genet's lyrical novel, a tale that is less about traditional plot conventions, but more the author's philosophy that violence and homosexuality are inextricably linked.
Directed by Rainer Werner Maria Fassbinder • R • 1982 • 108 minutes
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Perez Hilton on Cell Block H?
Finally, some good news! It looks like professional wankstain Perez Hilton could be facing jail time. Over the weekend, the purveyor of garbage, misogyny, and internet pus may have been hoisted with his own petard by tweeting an image of Miley Cyrus's under-aged bajina.
"If you are easily offended, do NOT click here," Hilton said of the photo. I guess what Hilton didn't know is that disseminting photos of nekkid children (better known as child pornography) is a crime. And one that authorities take pretty fucking seriously.
Here's to hoping the creepy, predatory shitsack gets some time behind bars.
(Via Gabe.)
"If you are easily offended, do NOT click here," Hilton said of the photo. I guess what Hilton didn't know is that disseminting photos of nekkid children (better known as child pornography) is a crime. And one that authorities take pretty fucking seriously.
Here's to hoping the creepy, predatory shitsack gets some time behind bars.
(Via Gabe.)
Caravaggio's Bones
Caravaggio, The Chiaroscuro Homo, has been exhumed and positively IDed by Italian scientists. Researchers are 85% sure the bones in an ossuary in a church in Porto Ercole belong to the Renaissance master. Using "DNA, carbon dating and other analysis" (What "other analysis"? Gaydar? The Moroder Test?) scientissimos are somewhat confident they've the right corpse.
Just in time for Pride Month, I guess.
No word yet on who will be commissioned to paint a gruesome still life of the artist's remains.
Just in time for Pride Month, I guess.
No word yet on who will be commissioned to paint a gruesome still life of the artist's remains.
Queer Cinema: An Interview with David Briggs
In honor of Buttplug Awareness Month (AKA Pride Month) I'm luridly eyeing the hallmarks of Queer Cinema. Today: A grown man who plays with dolls!
David Briggs is the director of yesterday's entry Karen Black Like Me. I interviewed him a couple years ago for (now defunct) horror movie website Surfin' Dead. I'm reprinting that conversation here.
When Karen Black Like Me first came out, how was it received?
Okay, well since you asked, here's the story. I made the film as part of my course work while in NYU's Graduate Film Program. It was the first full-length short I made before moving on and making my final "thesis" film there.
Surprisingly, Karen Black Like Me was not your typical NYU Graduate School film. At my screening for my Faculty review, they shut off the projector before it was over (it wasn't supposed to be longer than 12 minutes), and then proceeded to trash it, basically saying that it "didn't succeed". It was actually kind of devastating, since they'd all supported me through the development, shooting, and dailies screenings. So when they said it ultimately didn't work, I was a little daunted.
Luckily, the next day my entire class had organized a marathon screening of all of our films for our friends, casts, crews, and each other. The place was packed. Well, KBLM (as I like to call it) tore the roof of the place; the response was overwhelming. So I felt encouraged and vindicated.
The film had its official public premiere at Newfest, New York City's gay and lesbian film festival, and from there went on to play in nearly every major gay and lesbian film festival throughout the world. Shortly after, First Run Features acquired the rights and released it theatrically in their shorts collection, Boys in Love 2, where it is still available on video. First Run later released it in their DVD collection Best of Boys in Love.
To my knowledge, mine was the only film made that year at NYU that ever received a THEATRICAL release, so the faculty can kiss my ass. Needless to say it's not one of the achievements that ever got any attention in the NYU alumni newsletters. But I'm not bitter.
Actually I even benefited from some of the negative criticism I got from the NYU faculty. Originally I had "voiced" the dildo King Dong in a comic, goofy way; it came off more like a hungry, slobbering, playful St. Bernard. Someone on the faculty thought the monster should have a more frightening sound, so I brought the fantastic character actor Reed Birney back into the studio and re-invented King Dong's "performance"! So I always listen to negative criticism, sometimes it can be useful, even at its nastiest.
I've been thrilled by the response to the film, and am really happy it continues to have a following, however small. I had the opportunity to attend some really fun screenings during it's festival run, and I took my mom to the theatrical run in New York at Cinema Village (she loved it). And of course I was honored and flattered that you included it on your site!
I promise all my answers won't be this long.
If there were a message in Karen Black Like Me, what would it be?
Be yourself. Truly.
And if a big dick is fully engorged, don't remove the cock ring.
Is it hard finding financing for a movie about a giant, killer dildo?
Well, since I paid for it myself with student loans and credit cards, the answer is no.
Why do you think Trilogy of Terror had such an effect on people?
For me, and, as I discovered, for other gay men of my generation, it was one of those films that scared the pants off me when I saw it on TV as a kid, then made me laugh hysterically when I got older; the perfect camp horror film. The 3-story format was very satisfying to me, being a big fan of shows like The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery, and the classic "Amelia" killer doll episode is definitely the first film I can remember that employed that Puppet POV shot. Those shots from the monster's perspective along the floor were very frightening to me.
So it combined a lot of great elements that a lot of horror-obsessed gay kids find appealing: puppets, dolls, and of course, Karen Black. She's in top form here, so beautifully over-the-top, yet she plays it with ultimate conviction. It's that career turn that gay fans have a particular affection for: star-actress-diva-turned-scream-queen. She was carrying on in the great tradition created by gay icons like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.
Of course you don't have to be gay to love Trilogy of Terror (or hopefully my film either!), but I did discover that there was definitely a queer connection with it.
Do you know if Karen Black has seen your film?
To this day I don't know if she's ever actually seen it. I would think someone's made her aware of it by now (I finished it in '97), but I really don't know. I would hope she'd have a sense of humor about it, though she may not care for the shot where the dildo flies through the air and smashes into her picture on the wall. But it was meant as a loving tribute!!! I'm a huge fan of hers. She was really disturbing in Rob Zombies's film House of 1000 Corpses. She's still got it!!!!
I understand Karen Black Like Me was originally conceived with a much different ending. Care to share that?
Fans of Trilogy of Terror will of course remember the final image of Karen Black as Amelia, transformed and possessed, rocking on her haunches, wielding a huge knife and grinning that horrific smile. But what people forget is that she's waiting for her oppressive mother to come over. She's going to murder her mother!!!!
Well, in my original script, I was slavishly devoted to the source, so in my original ending, Emil, now transformed and possessing a huge schlong, was waiting for his mother to return… he was waiting to fuck his mother. And presumably give her what she'd really been craving. Not TOO Freudian!!!!
At the time I was working as playwright Edward Albee's personal assistant; he read my script and gave me a valuable piece of advice. Basically he told me that poor repressed Emil had gone through enough throughout the piece, and his transformation should be more celebratory; he should be rewarded. I loved that, because ultimately I was really just using Trilogy of Terror as a springboard for a little satire on the gay closet. So it only seemed fair to let Emil have a good time once he finally "comes out".
Where is King Dong now?
There are many King Dongs, all in storage. They had different duties; one could "shoot", one could turn, move around, and bend sideways (we had a great puppeteer), one was battery-operated (the wriggly one in the towel when Emil says "Die motherfucker!!!"), and one was built solely for the flying-through-the-air shot. The original (with which the mold was created) was returned to its owner with a happy face painted on its head. Oh, and there's one still under my bed. Last time I checked.
The Trey Billings Show is very different from Karen Black Like Me. Why such a departure for your second film?
The Trey Billings Show was my NYU Thesis film. A lot of the legitimate criticism I received on Karen Black Like Me is that it has a stagy, "presentational" feel to it. I had directed a lot of theatre before switching to film, so for my next film, I really wanted to try to break away from those influences and take what I'd learned about filmmaking and "break out of the box", so to speak. I was determined to try to create a piece of queer camp that was more "film-ic", something that could only exist in the film medium. I was going for a kind of hyper-reality. I'm really proud of how it turned out, I like to think I succeeded.
One thing I didn't realize while watching The Trey Billings Show was that the two leads were actually played by the same actor. Is that something most people don't notice, or am I just dense?
No, you're not dense. Many people have had the same experience, we're actually really flattered by that. I think David Drake is amazing as both Trey and Dodie, and in all his other little parts as well; he's another brilliant character actor. And Reed Birney, the voice of King Dong, appears as Mr. Hiney. I think all the performances are comic gems.
By the way, the Tranny Tramps in Diapers commercial really did freak me out. This isn't a question, I am just letting you know.
It was meant to! I really hope fans of local cable access will check out The Trey Billings Show. (And thank you for featuring the DVD it's on, Queer as F**k, on your site!) My inspiration for that commercial came from watching a LOT of late-night Manhattan cable access; there were a couple of queens who had similar chat shows to Trey, and their sponsors were always porn-phone lines. So that's where that came from.
By the way, that's me as the red-head. But you knew that.
Who was the inspiration for Dodie?
Primarily Lucille Ball, with others thrown in. We wanted to parody the trajectory of many of the female TV and film stars from her period. But we (me and my co-conceivers, David Drake and Carl Capotorto – Little Paulie on The Sopranos) were definitely fascinated by how Lucy had turned into a cigarette-voiced, unfunny, ornery parody of herself by the end of her career.
Jeffrey's Hollywood Screen Trick can be read as a satire of the gay club scene, with all the emphasis on "perfect" bodies and anonymous sex. Is it easier to make a serious point by wrapping it in a silly medium?
Absolutely. I like to think of my type of humor as "humane satire"; I love people, I just hate how most of them think and behave.
All of your films toy with gay stereotypes in one sense of another. Was that intentional or just the byproduct of being smart-assed and gay?
Probably a little bit of both. In my creative work I like to address repression and low self-esteem, as well as vanity, self-absorption and narcissism. So gay people are perfect targets.
Does Queer as Folk suck?
I can't honestly say. I only watched a few episodes in the beginning, and it struck me as being a pretty cheesy soap opera, and certainly not representative of any "gay lifestyle" that I or any of my friends were living. I like The L Word a lot though. Those bitches are hot.
Where did you get those muscled dolls? They sure don't look like any Ken I know.
They're all "Billy" dolls, a gay 90's phenomenon; I don't think they make them anymore. They came with different outfits, and the Hispanic version was named "Carlos" and the African-American was named "Tyson."
Except for Jeffrey; I think he was some kind of G.I. Joe type thing. I loved that he had a miserable self-body-image as compared to the Billy dolls, because of course he's a little hottie in his own right.
Do you find it easier to write for dolls as opposed to live actors?
No! I love writing for and working with real human beings. Actors are some of the most fascinating people walking the planet, so I love working with them whenever I can.
I did do the sound design, however, for Jeffrey's Hollywood Screen Trick, and I will say that sound editing for animation is a lot more fun than for real life. I was particularly proud of creating the cat's "performance" in that film.
So, what are you doing these days?
I'm very busy and very happy. I'm part of a two-man musical collaboration called "Confirmed Bachelor" – think Pet Shop Boys meets Magnetic Fields; we should have our first EP of original songs coming out soon. My partner is Quentin Chiappetta, the very talented guy who composed the music for both my short films, KBLM and Trey. Our website is www.confirmedbachelorpad.com.
Aside from that, I make a living as a professional sound editor; you'll find my name in the credits of cool indies like You Can Count on Me, Hysterical Blindness, Saving Face, and the upcoming Teeth, an indie horror flick that you are going to LOVE! It's about a teenage virgin who soon discovers she has teeth in her you-know-what. Lots of dismembered members.
Any plans to direct a full length feature?
Yes, I've got a couple very gay-themed screenplays under my belt that I would love to bring to life. I'm workin' on it. The only thing that compares to the feeling I get when directing and making a film is the feeling I get when my husband shoves King Dong up my hole. While dressed as a Tranny Tramp. Both of us.
David Briggs is the director of yesterday's entry Karen Black Like Me. I interviewed him a couple years ago for (now defunct) horror movie website Surfin' Dead. I'm reprinting that conversation here.
When Karen Black Like Me first came out, how was it received?
Okay, well since you asked, here's the story. I made the film as part of my course work while in NYU's Graduate Film Program. It was the first full-length short I made before moving on and making my final "thesis" film there.
Surprisingly, Karen Black Like Me was not your typical NYU Graduate School film. At my screening for my Faculty review, they shut off the projector before it was over (it wasn't supposed to be longer than 12 minutes), and then proceeded to trash it, basically saying that it "didn't succeed". It was actually kind of devastating, since they'd all supported me through the development, shooting, and dailies screenings. So when they said it ultimately didn't work, I was a little daunted.
Luckily, the next day my entire class had organized a marathon screening of all of our films for our friends, casts, crews, and each other. The place was packed. Well, KBLM (as I like to call it) tore the roof of the place; the response was overwhelming. So I felt encouraged and vindicated.
The film had its official public premiere at Newfest, New York City's gay and lesbian film festival, and from there went on to play in nearly every major gay and lesbian film festival throughout the world. Shortly after, First Run Features acquired the rights and released it theatrically in their shorts collection, Boys in Love 2, where it is still available on video. First Run later released it in their DVD collection Best of Boys in Love.
To my knowledge, mine was the only film made that year at NYU that ever received a THEATRICAL release, so the faculty can kiss my ass. Needless to say it's not one of the achievements that ever got any attention in the NYU alumni newsletters. But I'm not bitter.
Actually I even benefited from some of the negative criticism I got from the NYU faculty. Originally I had "voiced" the dildo King Dong in a comic, goofy way; it came off more like a hungry, slobbering, playful St. Bernard. Someone on the faculty thought the monster should have a more frightening sound, so I brought the fantastic character actor Reed Birney back into the studio and re-invented King Dong's "performance"! So I always listen to negative criticism, sometimes it can be useful, even at its nastiest.
I've been thrilled by the response to the film, and am really happy it continues to have a following, however small. I had the opportunity to attend some really fun screenings during it's festival run, and I took my mom to the theatrical run in New York at Cinema Village (she loved it). And of course I was honored and flattered that you included it on your site!
I promise all my answers won't be this long.
If there were a message in Karen Black Like Me, what would it be?
Be yourself. Truly.
And if a big dick is fully engorged, don't remove the cock ring.
Is it hard finding financing for a movie about a giant, killer dildo?
Well, since I paid for it myself with student loans and credit cards, the answer is no.
Why do you think Trilogy of Terror had such an effect on people?
For me, and, as I discovered, for other gay men of my generation, it was one of those films that scared the pants off me when I saw it on TV as a kid, then made me laugh hysterically when I got older; the perfect camp horror film. The 3-story format was very satisfying to me, being a big fan of shows like The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery, and the classic "Amelia" killer doll episode is definitely the first film I can remember that employed that Puppet POV shot. Those shots from the monster's perspective along the floor were very frightening to me.
So it combined a lot of great elements that a lot of horror-obsessed gay kids find appealing: puppets, dolls, and of course, Karen Black. She's in top form here, so beautifully over-the-top, yet she plays it with ultimate conviction. It's that career turn that gay fans have a particular affection for: star-actress-diva-turned-scream-queen. She was carrying on in the great tradition created by gay icons like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.
Of course you don't have to be gay to love Trilogy of Terror (or hopefully my film either!), but I did discover that there was definitely a queer connection with it.
Do you know if Karen Black has seen your film?
To this day I don't know if she's ever actually seen it. I would think someone's made her aware of it by now (I finished it in '97), but I really don't know. I would hope she'd have a sense of humor about it, though she may not care for the shot where the dildo flies through the air and smashes into her picture on the wall. But it was meant as a loving tribute!!! I'm a huge fan of hers. She was really disturbing in Rob Zombies's film House of 1000 Corpses. She's still got it!!!!
I understand Karen Black Like Me was originally conceived with a much different ending. Care to share that?
Fans of Trilogy of Terror will of course remember the final image of Karen Black as Amelia, transformed and possessed, rocking on her haunches, wielding a huge knife and grinning that horrific smile. But what people forget is that she's waiting for her oppressive mother to come over. She's going to murder her mother!!!!
Well, in my original script, I was slavishly devoted to the source, so in my original ending, Emil, now transformed and possessing a huge schlong, was waiting for his mother to return… he was waiting to fuck his mother. And presumably give her what she'd really been craving. Not TOO Freudian!!!!
At the time I was working as playwright Edward Albee's personal assistant; he read my script and gave me a valuable piece of advice. Basically he told me that poor repressed Emil had gone through enough throughout the piece, and his transformation should be more celebratory; he should be rewarded. I loved that, because ultimately I was really just using Trilogy of Terror as a springboard for a little satire on the gay closet. So it only seemed fair to let Emil have a good time once he finally "comes out".
Where is King Dong now?
There are many King Dongs, all in storage. They had different duties; one could "shoot", one could turn, move around, and bend sideways (we had a great puppeteer), one was battery-operated (the wriggly one in the towel when Emil says "Die motherfucker!!!"), and one was built solely for the flying-through-the-air shot. The original (with which the mold was created) was returned to its owner with a happy face painted on its head. Oh, and there's one still under my bed. Last time I checked.
The Trey Billings Show is very different from Karen Black Like Me. Why such a departure for your second film?
The Trey Billings Show was my NYU Thesis film. A lot of the legitimate criticism I received on Karen Black Like Me is that it has a stagy, "presentational" feel to it. I had directed a lot of theatre before switching to film, so for my next film, I really wanted to try to break away from those influences and take what I'd learned about filmmaking and "break out of the box", so to speak. I was determined to try to create a piece of queer camp that was more "film-ic", something that could only exist in the film medium. I was going for a kind of hyper-reality. I'm really proud of how it turned out, I like to think I succeeded.
One thing I didn't realize while watching The Trey Billings Show was that the two leads were actually played by the same actor. Is that something most people don't notice, or am I just dense?
No, you're not dense. Many people have had the same experience, we're actually really flattered by that. I think David Drake is amazing as both Trey and Dodie, and in all his other little parts as well; he's another brilliant character actor. And Reed Birney, the voice of King Dong, appears as Mr. Hiney. I think all the performances are comic gems.
By the way, the Tranny Tramps in Diapers commercial really did freak me out. This isn't a question, I am just letting you know.
It was meant to! I really hope fans of local cable access will check out The Trey Billings Show. (And thank you for featuring the DVD it's on, Queer as F**k, on your site!) My inspiration for that commercial came from watching a LOT of late-night Manhattan cable access; there were a couple of queens who had similar chat shows to Trey, and their sponsors were always porn-phone lines. So that's where that came from.
By the way, that's me as the red-head. But you knew that.
Who was the inspiration for Dodie?
Primarily Lucille Ball, with others thrown in. We wanted to parody the trajectory of many of the female TV and film stars from her period. But we (me and my co-conceivers, David Drake and Carl Capotorto – Little Paulie on The Sopranos) were definitely fascinated by how Lucy had turned into a cigarette-voiced, unfunny, ornery parody of herself by the end of her career.
Jeffrey's Hollywood Screen Trick can be read as a satire of the gay club scene, with all the emphasis on "perfect" bodies and anonymous sex. Is it easier to make a serious point by wrapping it in a silly medium?
Absolutely. I like to think of my type of humor as "humane satire"; I love people, I just hate how most of them think and behave.
All of your films toy with gay stereotypes in one sense of another. Was that intentional or just the byproduct of being smart-assed and gay?
Probably a little bit of both. In my creative work I like to address repression and low self-esteem, as well as vanity, self-absorption and narcissism. So gay people are perfect targets.
Does Queer as Folk suck?
I can't honestly say. I only watched a few episodes in the beginning, and it struck me as being a pretty cheesy soap opera, and certainly not representative of any "gay lifestyle" that I or any of my friends were living. I like The L Word a lot though. Those bitches are hot.
Where did you get those muscled dolls? They sure don't look like any Ken I know.
They're all "Billy" dolls, a gay 90's phenomenon; I don't think they make them anymore. They came with different outfits, and the Hispanic version was named "Carlos" and the African-American was named "Tyson."
Except for Jeffrey; I think he was some kind of G.I. Joe type thing. I loved that he had a miserable self-body-image as compared to the Billy dolls, because of course he's a little hottie in his own right.
Do you find it easier to write for dolls as opposed to live actors?
No! I love writing for and working with real human beings. Actors are some of the most fascinating people walking the planet, so I love working with them whenever I can.
I did do the sound design, however, for Jeffrey's Hollywood Screen Trick, and I will say that sound editing for animation is a lot more fun than for real life. I was particularly proud of creating the cat's "performance" in that film.
So, what are you doing these days?
I'm very busy and very happy. I'm part of a two-man musical collaboration called "Confirmed Bachelor" – think Pet Shop Boys meets Magnetic Fields; we should have our first EP of original songs coming out soon. My partner is Quentin Chiappetta, the very talented guy who composed the music for both my short films, KBLM and Trey. Our website is www.confirmedbachelorpad.com.
Aside from that, I make a living as a professional sound editor; you'll find my name in the credits of cool indies like You Can Count on Me, Hysterical Blindness, Saving Face, and the upcoming Teeth, an indie horror flick that you are going to LOVE! It's about a teenage virgin who soon discovers she has teeth in her you-know-what. Lots of dismembered members.
Any plans to direct a full length feature?
Yes, I've got a couple very gay-themed screenplays under my belt that I would love to bring to life. I'm workin' on it. The only thing that compares to the feeling I get when directing and making a film is the feeling I get when my husband shoves King Dong up my hole. While dressed as a Tranny Tramp. Both of us.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Fed Up With Idolatry, God Destroys Graven Image
News out of godless Ohio:
A six-story-tall statue of Jesus Christ with his arms raised along a highway was struck by lightning in a thunderstorm Monday night and burned to the ground, police said.The statue was financed by "by former horse trader Lawrence Bishop and his wife" with a price tag of $250,000. Seriously? A horse trader? I had no idea that was a profession.
No word yet whether the Bishops plan to rebuild.
Queer Cinema: Karen Black Like Me
It's Pride Month, so I'm strolling the venertaed halls of Queer Cinema. Today: Oedipal issues and giant dildos!
If you were fortunate enough to catch Trilogy of Terror on television during the seventies, it isn't something you'll likely have forgotten, even now. And if, like me, you were a child at the time, you may have been severely traumatized by it.
Ask anyone what it's about, and they'll tell you (well, they'll tell you about the third part, no one remembers what the first two stories were): in the final installment of Trilogy, Karen Black plays a woman who buys a small African doll and takes it home to her apartment. When the amulet around the doll's neck breaks, he comes to life and starts chasing her around her home, trying to kill her. This segment is something of a minor classic in horror television. It's seriously creepy, to say the least.
But this spoof may be even creepier. Not because it's scary, or because the monster in this one is particularly threatening. No, it's creepy due to the strange relationship between Emil, our lead, and his mother (Anita Gillette). She kisses him on the lips, demands foot rubs, and talks of how she “washed [his] poophole until he was six.” When Emil (Ira Rosenberg) stands her up at the theater, she's more than a little pissed.
But Emil has bigger problems. (Beside the fact everyone pronounces his name like "amyl.") He's received a mysterious package in the mail, and inside is one very large, angry looking dildo. And like in the original film, removing the studded leather cockring imbues King Dong (yes, that's its name) with magical powers. Suddenly Dong is on the loose, tormenting poor, fey Emil.
Emil fights for his life, as Dong pursues him around the apartment, smacking him in the face, breaking through doors, and even spitting on him. That's not venom though. If the idea of a man being menaced by a large, growling dildo strikes you as funny, Karen Black Like Me does not disappoint.
Directed by David Briggs • Unrated • 1997 • 16 minutes
If you were fortunate enough to catch Trilogy of Terror on television during the seventies, it isn't something you'll likely have forgotten, even now. And if, like me, you were a child at the time, you may have been severely traumatized by it.
Ask anyone what it's about, and they'll tell you (well, they'll tell you about the third part, no one remembers what the first two stories were): in the final installment of Trilogy, Karen Black plays a woman who buys a small African doll and takes it home to her apartment. When the amulet around the doll's neck breaks, he comes to life and starts chasing her around her home, trying to kill her. This segment is something of a minor classic in horror television. It's seriously creepy, to say the least.
But this spoof may be even creepier. Not because it's scary, or because the monster in this one is particularly threatening. No, it's creepy due to the strange relationship between Emil, our lead, and his mother (Anita Gillette). She kisses him on the lips, demands foot rubs, and talks of how she “washed [his] poophole until he was six.” When Emil (Ira Rosenberg) stands her up at the theater, she's more than a little pissed.
But Emil has bigger problems. (Beside the fact everyone pronounces his name like "amyl.") He's received a mysterious package in the mail, and inside is one very large, angry looking dildo. And like in the original film, removing the studded leather cockring imbues King Dong (yes, that's its name) with magical powers. Suddenly Dong is on the loose, tormenting poor, fey Emil.
Emil fights for his life, as Dong pursues him around the apartment, smacking him in the face, breaking through doors, and even spitting on him. That's not venom though. If the idea of a man being menaced by a large, growling dildo strikes you as funny, Karen Black Like Me does not disappoint.
Directed by David Briggs • Unrated • 1997 • 16 minutes
Monday, June 14, 2010
The World's Stupiest Conspiracy Theory
There was a story bouncing around nooz outlets late last week that the seminal hip-hip video "Whoomp! (There It Is)" featured a cameo by a young Barack Obama. He appears, according to a story that has appeared on Fox and CNN, for fuck's sake, at the one minute mark.
For those less inclined to actually watch the video, here's the cap of the cameo:
Colbert has a great piece on the mystery:
Can't we get back to seemingly sane pursuits, like finding out who really blew up the space shuttle or something?
For those less inclined to actually watch the video, here's the cap of the cameo:
Colbert has a great piece on the mystery:
Can't we get back to seemingly sane pursuits, like finding out who really blew up the space shuttle or something?
Queer Cinema: A Nightmare On Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge
I think it was T.S. Eliot who described June as the gayest month, and in honor of that I'm taking a peek at some landmarks of Queer Cinema. Today: Exploding wieners and leather daddies!Is A Nightmare On Elm Street 2 the gayest horror film ever? Plenty of people swear to it. But let me just describe the film:
Jesse (Mark Patton) is the new boy in town. He's fey, he's sensitive, he likes disco. Oh, and he always wears lots of eyeliner in his dreams. His father (Clu Gulager) has just bought a new house. Too bad it's the house from the first film, where lots of unpleasantness involving Freddy, Nancy and Johnny Depp once took place. This causes lots of nightmares for Jesse, he just doesn't know why.
At school Jesse makes friends with Grady, a jockish bully and Limahl fan. When they first meet, Grady can't resist yanking Jesse's pants down and wrestling him to the ground. The two sweaty boys are punished by Coach Schneider, who forces the two to do endless push-ups before ordering them to hit the showers. It's here that Grady reveals Schneider "hangs around queer S&M joints downtown. He likes pretty boys like you." When an exhausted Jesse dozes off in class, he dreams of a giant snake rubbing itself across his face.
Late at night Jesse wanders downtown and into a gay bar. Schneider, dressed in tight leather pants and vest, wastes no time, putting the moves on young Jesse. He takes Jesse back to the gym for another workout, and another trip to the showers. Schneider is tied up, stripped, and spanked until his ass cheeks glow bright red. Freddy then shows up and spoils the fun, murdering the coach.
Jesse gets invited to Lisa's pool party. She's sweet on Jesse, the way young girls are often sweet on fey, sensitive boys. I bet he was a good listener. But when she tries to seduce Jesse, he runs away. To Grady's. Jesse begs his best pal to let him spend the night. But before the slumber party can really get started Freddy shows up and spoils the fun, murdering Grady.
Soaked in blood, Jesse returns to Lisa's and tries to explain what's going on, how Freddy wants inside him, how he fears Freddy will try to "take" him again. And before you know it, Freddy arrives and makes a mess of the party. In a moment of subtle symbolism from director Jack Sholder, hot, roasting wieners suddenly burst into flame and cans of beer spew out showers of thick, white suds. Freddy torments the party goers before disappearing in an explosion of smoke and flames: like any decent cabaret act, Freddy really knows how to close a show.
Lisa realizes Freddy has finally got inside Jesse, and the two have become one. Only she can save the fey, sensitive boy from the gruff predator that is Freddy Krueger. Or so she thinks. But once the seed has been planted, there really is no going back for Jesse.
So, is A Nightmare On Elm Street 2 the gayest horror film ever? Harry Benshoff discusses the film at length in Monsters In The Closet: Homosexuality and the Horror Film, though flubs some of the details. I'm not sure how many horror films, especially of that era, feature scenes set in gay bars, feature scenes where the hero actively seeks out a gay bar as refuge, but that alone says a lot about this film.
Directed by Jack Sholder • R • 1985 • 87 minutes
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Question of the Day
Should "chiseled identical twins Milo and Elijah Peters" even be engaged "in bareback fucking and cum-load swallowing" with each other?
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
For Your Approval
Prince Poppycock doing it doggy-style to "Largo al factotum" from The Barber of Seville.
Sing it, sister!
[Via.]
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
What's Up With Elton John?
Anyone know? I'm trying to figure out why he would perform at Rush Limbaugh's wedding. He can't have needed the $1M paycheck. I'm totally confounded.
Monday, June 07, 2010
For Fox Sake
Residents and travelers in Oxfordshire UK have been advised to think of the local fauna population and slow their driving just a bit.A local citizen has posted a sign instructing "For Fox Sake Slow Down." I hope everyone takes it to heart.
For the foxes.
Friday, June 04, 2010
Memorial Day Movie Marathon, Pt. 4
The House Bunny
Oh. My. Fucking. God. I cannot (lie, I totes can!) believe this movie exists. It is, seriously, one of the worst movies I have ever seen. And if you don't believe me, remember that I've seen Mac and Me. Here is the plot, such as it is: A Playboy bunny gets booted out of the mansion and moves in with a sorority full of ugly girls. The bunny teaches the ugly girls how to be sexy and popular and blah blah blah... What a fucking vulgar, offensive, disgusting trainwreck of a movie. Everyone involved in the production should be sentenced to 9 billion hours of community service. Basically, they should not be allowed to work in Hollywood ever again. Not even at Pink's. This movie is shit. This movie is dog shit. This movie is dog shit on the soul of humanity. The more I think about this movie's mere existence, the more angry I get. Fuck you, Hollywood.
Oh. My. Fucking. God. I cannot (lie, I totes can!) believe this movie exists. It is, seriously, one of the worst movies I have ever seen. And if you don't believe me, remember that I've seen Mac and Me. Here is the plot, such as it is: A Playboy bunny gets booted out of the mansion and moves in with a sorority full of ugly girls. The bunny teaches the ugly girls how to be sexy and popular and blah blah blah... What a fucking vulgar, offensive, disgusting trainwreck of a movie. Everyone involved in the production should be sentenced to 9 billion hours of community service. Basically, they should not be allowed to work in Hollywood ever again. Not even at Pink's. This movie is shit. This movie is dog shit. This movie is dog shit on the soul of humanity. The more I think about this movie's mere existence, the more angry I get. Fuck you, Hollywood.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Rue McClanahan RIP
Rue McClanahan, perhaps best known as Blanche Devereaux on The Golden Girls, died today after stroke. She was 76.
McClanahan had a diverse career, appearing in films like Starship Troopers, on TV in Mama's Family, and on Broadway in Wicked.
She will be missed.
RIP Rue McClanahan.
McClanahan had a diverse career, appearing in films like Starship Troopers, on TV in Mama's Family, and on Broadway in Wicked.
She will be missed.
RIP Rue McClanahan.
Memorial Day Movie Marathon, Pt. 3
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
Things that happened in this movie, besides explosions: A Chihuahua humped a pit bull. (Comedy!) A tiny robot humped Megan Fox's leg. (Comedy!) A robot beat up the pyramids of Giza. (Action!) After about nine thousand hours of explosions, Shia LaBeouf died and went to robot heaven (really) and the Transformers god resurrected him. Why? Who the fuck even knows. Nothing in this movie made sense. For example, the plot: A fifteen thousand year old Transformer wants to use the pyramids, which are secretly giant ray guns, to blow up the sun, and destroy Earth. Why? Why not, I guess. And Shia LaBeouf touched a shard of the Allspark which was actually the Matrix of Responsibility and Adulthood and it turned his brain into a Transformers history book so the bad robots were going to cut open his head and use his brain to ... do something. Christ. Oh, yes, and besides the dog humping scenes, and the Transformer with a giant pair of testicles, there are the Amos and Andy robots. Yes, two jive-talking caricatures, one replete with a gold tooth. How the fuck do they even exist? In the twenty-first century? Literally thousands and thousands of people worked on this movie, and not one of them said "hey, maybe these racist stereotypes are a bad idea"? Also, why do robots blink?
Tomorrow: The House Bunny.
Things that happened in this movie, besides explosions: A Chihuahua humped a pit bull. (Comedy!) A tiny robot humped Megan Fox's leg. (Comedy!) A robot beat up the pyramids of Giza. (Action!) After about nine thousand hours of explosions, Shia LaBeouf died and went to robot heaven (really) and the Transformers god resurrected him. Why? Who the fuck even knows. Nothing in this movie made sense. For example, the plot: A fifteen thousand year old Transformer wants to use the pyramids, which are secretly giant ray guns, to blow up the sun, and destroy Earth. Why? Why not, I guess. And Shia LaBeouf touched a shard of the Allspark which was actually the Matrix of Responsibility and Adulthood and it turned his brain into a Transformers history book so the bad robots were going to cut open his head and use his brain to ... do something. Christ. Oh, yes, and besides the dog humping scenes, and the Transformer with a giant pair of testicles, there are the Amos and Andy robots. Yes, two jive-talking caricatures, one replete with a gold tooth. How the fuck do they even exist? In the twenty-first century? Literally thousands and thousands of people worked on this movie, and not one of them said "hey, maybe these racist stereotypes are a bad idea"? Also, why do robots blink?
Tomorrow: The House Bunny.
Can Someone Please Explain This To Me?
Half-assed transcript:
Small group of women gathered around computer screen browsing the Zoosk dating site. One woman remarks how she'd totes like to bone one of the dudes. Cut to fantasy enactment of said boning. Man and woman bump into each other clumsily, knock over candles, break all kinds of stuff, man yells "ouch, my back!" Cut back to group of women gathered around computer screen. Woman says "let's just go to the movies instead."
Was that supposed to be funny? And if so, why? Is this the kind of thing that regularly happens on dates? I really don't get it. Maybe it is funny, but I haven't been on a date in so long that I just don't remember how hilarious and real this commercial is. Or not.
Any explanation would be appreciated.
[Cross-posted.]
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
James Cameron Will Save Us!
According to Reuters "James Cameron took part in a brainstorming session with scientists, academics and Washington officials on Tuesday on how to contain the six week-old oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico."
Officials from the Environmental Protection Agency, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the Department of Energy, and James Cameron met as "part of the federal government's ongoing efforts to hear from stakeholders, scientists and experts from academia, government and the private sector as we continue to respond to the BP oil spill."
Cameron has directed lots of movies about water, so he's clealy a "stakeholder." Good for him.
Officials from the Environmental Protection Agency, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the Department of Energy, and James Cameron met as "part of the federal government's ongoing efforts to hear from stakeholders, scientists and experts from academia, government and the private sector as we continue to respond to the BP oil spill."
Cameron has directed lots of movies about water, so he's clealy a "stakeholder." Good for him.
Memorial Day Movie Marathon, Pt. 2
Paul Blart: Mall Cop
Things I learned from Paul Blart: Mall Cop: Being fat is funny. Also, if you're fat, no one will ever love you, unless they're pretending so they can get a green card, or if you save them from bank robbers. Also, fat is funny. Oh, and fat people are clumsy. And dumb. Why did Kevin James write this nonsense? I don't know whether I am more disturbed than not that this movie was written by a fat dude. Here's an idea for a sequel: Kevin James: Go To Hell.
Up next: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
Things I learned from Paul Blart: Mall Cop: Being fat is funny. Also, if you're fat, no one will ever love you, unless they're pretending so they can get a green card, or if you save them from bank robbers. Also, fat is funny. Oh, and fat people are clumsy. And dumb. Why did Kevin James write this nonsense? I don't know whether I am more disturbed than not that this movie was written by a fat dude. Here's an idea for a sequel: Kevin James: Go To Hell.
Up next: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Memorial Day Movie Marathon, Pt. 1
What better way to honor the war dead on this holiday than by watching four craptastic movies? Freedom, bitches! How's you spend your Memorial Day? Going to a parade? Whatever.
So, I'll be reviewing the movies in descending order, from bad to worse. It should tell you something that the best movie I saw yesterday was Dracula II. How is that even possible?
(Stay tuned all this week for the rest of the list.)
Dracula II: Ascension
Dracula II picks up right where the first movie left off. Literally. Remember how the first one ended with Dracula getting roasted in the sun on that New Orleans rooftop? No? Well, it did, trust me. (And if the first one was called Dracula 2000, shouldn't this one be called Dracula 2001?) So, anyway, the coroner's office picks up the dracula corpse and takes it to the morgue, where someone cuts her fingertip on his fang and drops blood on him, and sees that where the blood splashed Drac regenerated. Got all that? Enter Craig Sheffer who has some unnamed debilitating condition confining him to a wheelchair. He holds his left hand in an immobile, clenched fist at his chest at all times, to remind us he is dying. Acting, bitches! And blah blah blah, Sheffer and his cadre of silly med students reanimate Drac to use his blood to heal Sheffer. Jason Scott Lee returns as The Priest Who Knows Kung Fu and who is also a half-dracula which we find out in a flashback that is set before the first movie, but I guess they forgot to mention that the first time around which is weird because you'd think that was relevant. Also, Roy Scheider is there who is going to need a bigger wooden stake as Cardinal Exposition. He is there to explain thatGerard Buttfor isn't in this movie when draculas regenerate they get a new face. Also, In case you forgot, Dracula is Judas and he was cursed to live forever or something. Anyway, if Jason Scott Lee can absolve him of the sin of deicide then he will die or not be a dracula or something. Basically, he'd win. But he doesn't. And all the med students die too. But Craig Sheffer walks again. And the whole thing ends by setting up a sequel.
Tomorrow's review: Paul Blart: Mall Cop
So, I'll be reviewing the movies in descending order, from bad to worse. It should tell you something that the best movie I saw yesterday was Dracula II. How is that even possible?
(Stay tuned all this week for the rest of the list.)
Dracula II: Ascension
Dracula II picks up right where the first movie left off. Literally. Remember how the first one ended with Dracula getting roasted in the sun on that New Orleans rooftop? No? Well, it did, trust me. (And if the first one was called Dracula 2000, shouldn't this one be called Dracula 2001?) So, anyway, the coroner's office picks up the dracula corpse and takes it to the morgue, where someone cuts her fingertip on his fang and drops blood on him, and sees that where the blood splashed Drac regenerated. Got all that? Enter Craig Sheffer who has some unnamed debilitating condition confining him to a wheelchair. He holds his left hand in an immobile, clenched fist at his chest at all times, to remind us he is dying. Acting, bitches! And blah blah blah, Sheffer and his cadre of silly med students reanimate Drac to use his blood to heal Sheffer. Jason Scott Lee returns as The Priest Who Knows Kung Fu and who is also a half-dracula which we find out in a flashback that is set before the first movie, but I guess they forgot to mention that the first time around which is weird because you'd think that was relevant. Also, Roy Scheider is there who is going to need a bigger wooden stake as Cardinal Exposition. He is there to explain that
Tomorrow's review: Paul Blart: Mall Cop
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