Saturday, 3 May 2008

If the mousse tastes chalky, don't eat it



Here at the Bloody Chamber Finishing School for Fallen Young Ladies of Delicate Constitution, we have a varied curriculum. Between handicrafts lessons from Professor Hewitt, and poetry classes with Dr Poelzig, it's a wonder the little darlings find the time to misbehave. We try to equip our girls with invaluable life lessons drawn from the most reliable souce imaginable; horror films, because films never lie.

Today's lesson is drawn from the late Sixties/God is Dead/puerperal psychosis classic Rosemary's Baby:

Don't put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington? Well, don't let her MARRY an actor, either. Rosemary's husband, Guy Woodhouse (John Cassavetes) may seem cool and hip, he may be about to go off and make a load of films with Peter Falk and accidentally invent Steve Buscemi's directing career, but all he really wants is to rent out your reproductive system to the creepy old neighbourhood Satanists for their glowing-eyed anti-Messiah in exchange for a part on Broadway. Never a flicker of guilt, either; at least the geek in Stepford Wives who's part-exchanging his wife for a big-tittied housekeeper/fuckbot has a moment of sitting-in-the-dark-nursing a Scotch angst, but Mr Method can't wait to escape motor oil tv adverts for a showy part in one of those worthy sub-Whose Life Is It Anyway 'issues' plays that never get to Broadway anymore for all the Producers revivals, and so much the better for it if you want my opinion. And, if some rival actor has to get blinded, a few people killed, and your emotionally fragile wife to gestate Lucifer, well...too bad all around.

Men; pfft.

Sunday, 27 April 2008

Please God tell me I'm not dreaming this...






Tell me that you can see it too...please?

I did actually do the cartoon thing where you rub your eyes in disbelief the first time I saw this; my delicate eyes have seen a few strange sights in their time, but...Steve Martin (apparently still in his Little Shop of Horrors persona/character/costume) 'singing' a Beatles song while accompanied by a chorus of high-stepping androgynous brainwashed 'Boy' and 'Girl' Scouts? And then having an optically-enhanced reflex-hammer fight with Peter Frampton? While the Bee Gees get their arses kicked by some kung fu fighting nurses...

Actually, I only wish this was the most headfucking scene in the film; let's just say: Donald Pleasance in a wig as a music mogul; Frankie Howerd (ask your Gran) singing 'When I'm 64'...The Bee Gees (again) in ballsachingly tight satin trousers. Personally, I could comfortably have spent a lifetime without ever being forced to contemplate the exact outlines of Robin Gibb's batch; and I don't think I'm alone in that.

Although...if you think of this scene at least as some kind of lithium-induced mad dream experienced by one of the minor characters in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, then it does have a sort of internal logic to it...However, for the scene where George Burns 'vocalises' (I can't make myself type 'sings') Digging A Hole...I have no excuse.

Director Michael Schultz (who is apparently still working in TV), I salute you, if only for being at the right place at the right time; that precise moment in the 70s where a shitload of money, a never-again cast, some actually-fairly-good songs and a ton of drugs combined to make a perfect storm of 70's-ness.

Overall, it's a film that transcends mere human notions of 'Good' and 'Bad' purely by virtue of leaving my 'Whatthefuck-o-meter' needle buried solidly in the red for the entire running time, and that counts for a lot here at Chamber Towers. It's on DVD (Region 1 NTSC only, sadly); make yourself a triple-bill with 'Tommy' and 'Phantom of the Paradise' (or the Rocky Horror Picture Show if you must), and pretend as though High School Musical never happened...

Sunday, 24 February 2008

He's not Nosferatu; he's a very naughty boy





I'm going to try to not have this blog just be about men I want to jump...

...I'm going to fail.

First; the obligatory infodump. 'Martin' was directed by George Romero in 1977, made in Pittsburgh on 16mm, with a cast consisting mostly of Romero's family and friends, supplemented with a few local professional actors.

The eponymous Martin comes to town to stay with Tada Cuda, an elderly relative and his niece Christina (played by Mrs George Romero, Christine Forrest) in the rundown former steelworking community of Braddock, Pennsylvania. There's some indication that he might have been forced to leave his previous home, and it seems hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily move TO Braddock; the only people we see are old or unhappy, Christina's boyfriend (Special Effects legend Tom Savini) is leaving town to get work, and even the church holds Mass in what looks like a building site since they can't afford to repair the building (as if they didn't have enough problems, the parish priest is George Romero himself; smoking cigarettes, drinking and REALLY digging 'The Exorcist').

No-one really knows what to make of Martin. To Tata Cuda he's an 84-year-old vampire, who needs to be redeemed and then staked; to Christina he's a confused kid; to Mrs Santini, the lonely housewife he meets while making deliveries for Cuda's deli, he's a combination of sex toy and surrogate child. To the sarcastic DJ on the phone-in show he calls, Martin is 'The Count'; another late-night loser good for a few jokes. Martin, though, KNOWS that he's a vampire; we see him in black-and-white maybe-fantasies-maybe-memories as a puffy-shirted demon lover, seducing women and fleeing from torch-wielding villagers. In the here-and-now, Martin's not nearly so glamorous; delivering groceries, failing to make eye-contact, and occasionally drugging women and opening their veins with razor blades.

The classic missing-the-point question to ask about Martin is...is he REALLY a vampire? Well, he'd say he was...and he does drink the blood of his victims...but this is a Romero film, and there's nothing supernatural here; Martin sleeps, goes out in daylight, has sex, doesn't have fangs or fear garlic, and is just as susceptible to being hurt as anyone. He does magic tricks, throws away Cuda's crucifix, and dresses up as Dracula (complete with plastic fangs and fancy-dress cape) to scare the old man.

My opinion on what he is, is that he's just a lonely, sad boy, with a troubled past. I'd say that he needs to get out more and get a woman, except that he does and...well, I won't spoil the ending if you haven't seen it, but things don't work out too well all round.

Now, Martin is played by John Amplas, who was in his late twenties at the time, though he looks about 19, and is every inch the Myspace cutie(can you tell I have a crush?), with his floppy hair, striped shirt, and faraway gaze; yes, who would have thought that George Romero, as well as inventing slow-moving zombies, alternative cinema and non-race-specific casting, also invented emo? He's an engaging actor with a convincing awkwardness and vulnerability that somehow makes you forget that Martin is technically a serial killer, and a predator on women. He appeared a few other films, mostly Romero's; in Knightriders as one of cinema's few non-homicidal-thoughts-inducing mimes, a few years later and a few pounds heavier in Day of the Dead, unrecognisable under a ton of makeup in Creepshow, and (not for Romero) as a backwoods fanatic in a sheriff's uniform in Midnight (one of the ever-popular stay-away-from-the-country-cause-they're-all-moonshine-swillin'
-inbred-psychos genre; that never goes out of fashion). I understand he does a lot of stage work and teaches theatre in Pittsburgh, and he turned 51 the day after I started writing this post; 25th February. Happy (belated because I'm a lazy slacker) Birthday John; I hope you know that you have a little corner of vampire film history, and you looked better in that puffy shirt than Tom Cruise did; Lestat be buggered...

Now, would I recommend 'Martin'? Not to everyone...I'd recommend it to you if you're in the mood for something a little slow, a bit different and with a melancholy atmosphere that will probably stay with you for a while. It's not especially bloody, and it does get a little bit unfocused and wandering towards the end, but if the ending doesn't hit you like a sledgehammer then...I have nothing else to say to you.


Martin Madahas: And that's another thing about those movies. Vampires always have ladies. Sometimes lots of ladies. Well, that's wrong too! You don't need all that.

Radio Talk Show Host: Ah,ha,ha,ha, you don't need that?

Martin Madahas: No, you really don't. I mean, if the magic part was real and you could make them do whatever you wanted to...

Radio Talk Show Host: Ha,ha,oh,yeah!

Martin Madahas: Well, that would be different. In real life, in real life you can't get people to do what you want them to do.

La Debut...

Mostly, horror films. Mostly. Films, anyway. One per day-ish, until I get bored, or a life, or run out of good films. Then I'll have to start on the bad ones. Oh, and also actors; the 'character' type, mainly. Possibly also some pictures of kittens, or knitting or something. Still, mostly the films.

Right; get started, shall we?