Jesse linked me to this review of Running with the Pack, from prolific and awesome reviewer Nancy (AKA temporaryworlds on LJ) in which. . . OK, you know what? This is my first sale and my first review and so I’m going to selfishly pull out the pertinent quote and just put it up in all its glory:
“In Sheep’s Clothing” is a sci-fi/dystopian short story about the downfall of our society, and what happens after that. Reading this story reminded me a lot of “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. The werewolf aspect is not obvious at first, but it’s done quite well. Tanzer has created a fantastic voice in “In Sheep’s Clothing,” and the twist at the end is really well done. If you’re going to only read one story in this collection, read this one. I think it’s my favorite. Five stars.
Tag this under “totally thrilled” because. . . well, OK. I mean, you read it.
Nancy reviews each and every story in the anthology and gives it an overall ranking of four and a half stars (which means, according to her system, “very enjoyable book. Any flaws were minimal and did not diminish enjoyment). I have to say, from what I’ve read so far, I have to agree. In particular, I have to say that Jeffrey Ford’s “The Beautiful Gelreesh” and Jesse Bullington’s “Blamed for Trying to Live” are worth the cover price alone.
I’ve been holding back on talking about RwtP until I finished the anthology, but I had to jump the gun as a result of this review and thus am certainly neglecting some worthy stories. But, uh, I couldn’t resist.
Jesse Bullington and I have (perhaps foolishly) decided to embark upon a quest: watching “classic” adventure movies that informed one or both of our childhoods. These columns will run every Wednesday on our blogs, excluding the last post of each month, which will appear over at Fantasy Magazine. Today is a very special entry, as we watched this film in order to celebrate my beloved husband John’s 29th birthday! Yay! So, uh, it will contain images from the film and from our party, because I’m too lazy to blog twice about the same event. There’s love for ya!
So here’s how it happened. We’d made pina coladas and were drinking them out of actual coconuts (I tell you this not because it is fascinating but because it explains the sugar- and booze-fueled insanity below). Jesse gave John this shirt, which to those of you familiar with the film we’re reviewing, should look familiar:
I should explain the next photo by explaining that my husband, who at 29 has arthritis in his knees (my grandmother blames veganism), drinks prune juice every morning, and, well, asked for sarongs for his birthday. Why? Because he likes to terrify our young neighbors by sitting outside in a towel while smoking cigars and drinking whiskey and commenting on the gloriousness of the weather. Think a skinny, 6’2” Bilbo Baggins, but in a skirt. Anyways, so yeah, this happened:
I think I should let you know is that what you’re not seeing (at the request of one Jesse Bullington, AKA “the enemy of fun”) is what happened after John donned the sarong-and-tanktop combo. In some sort of show of solidarity Jesse put on his bike shorts–the ones that are heavily padded in the crotch–a hawaiian shirt, and his bike helmet, and he and John drank from one another’s coconuts and toasted life. But I can’t show you those pictures because as I said, Mr. “The Enemy of Fun” claimed this was “a professional site” and “that means no pictures of him that look like that.” Any complaints can be sent to Jesse via his contact form on his site. Anyways, you can see why watching Big Trouble in Little China just had to happen that night.
The Film: Big Trouble in Little China (1986)
WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS??? Direction by John Carpenter (The Thing, Escape from New York, Halloween) in the prime of his awesome. Written by Gary Goldman (Total Recall) and David Z. Weinstein (who didn’t really do anything else), but apparently “adapted” by W.D. Richter, who directed The Adventures of Bukaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension. Obligatory synthesizer soundtrack by John Carpenter himself. The best acting in the history of film by Kurt Russell (if you don’t know who Kurt Russell is please slap yourself), Kim Cattrall (Sex and the City, Star Trek VI), Dennis Dun (The Last Emperor), James Hong (Kung Fu Panda, an amazing array of television roles including The West Wing and Sammo Hung’s Marshall Law), Carter Wong (Blazing Temple, tons of other Shaw Brothers films), and Victor Wong (The Joy Luck Club, the 3 Ninjas movies).
Quote: Far too many to name, but our favorites are as follows:
Molly: “It’s all in the reflexes.”
Jesse: “When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol’ Jack Burton always says at a time like that: ‘Have ya paid your dues, Jack?’ ‘Yessir, the check is in the mail.’”
John: “What does that mean, huh? ‘China is here.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means.”
First viewing by Molly: Um. As an adult? Because of John? I used a clip of this film (along with others) to teach Said’s Introduction to his book Orientalism for years at FSU—more specifically, the scene where Lo Pan first appears after the Three Storms wreak havoc on the gang war that is occurring in an alley in San Francisco. Because you can only talk about the plot of this movie with sentences like that.
First viewing by Jesse: Eight years old, I think. I was at my grandparent’s house and my brother rented it, forever changing my world—not unlike the difference between BC and CE, one’s life can be measured as Before Big Trouble and Post Big Trouble.
First viewing by John: Whenever it premiered on television. I think I was seven or eight years old, but I can’t remember exactly.
Most recent viewing by all: Last Saturday.
Impact on Molly’s childhood development: Negligible.
Impact on Jesse’s childhood development: I think this film confirmed a lot of things about me, rather than informing them, but that said, it confirmed some pretty awesome stuff. Wind, fire, that sort of thing. Also, magic is real and secret societies are constantly warring with each other in back alleys and Kurt Russell is tougher than anyone and kung fu is awesome and monsters can be defeated with Chinese black magic (which is different from sorcery), and so much more.
Impact on John’s childhood development: The year is the late nineteen-eighties. The place is the childhood of a young boy who will soon become a man. Because of this movie. While watching an episode of 21 Jump Street on the recently-launched Fox network I am informed that the weekend’s Saturday night movie will be a film called Big Trouble in Little China. I watch the preview and discover what it means to be a man, what it means to love a woman, and what it is like to have magical Chinamen for friends (Jesse says: dude, Chinamen is not the preferred nomenclature. Magical Asian American, please). I know that I must watch this movie. Forever.
Random youtube clip that hasn’t been taken down for copyright infringement:
Molly’s thoughts prior to re-watching: FUCK YES.
Jesse’s thoughts prior to re-watching (with picture added by me for illustration): Considering I found out we were re-watching this five minutes before we did on John’s birthday, I didn’t have a lot of time for reflection on the movie itself. Fortunately, I logged what thoughts I did have once it was determined we were going back to Little China:
Holy shit, are we really gonna watch this? I can’t believe Raechel’s never seen it—she’s not going to believe this shit. I’m so happy we found an effective method of boring a wide enough hole in this coconut to get the pina coladas inside without making a huge mess. I better top off before we start—shit, got it everywhere. Anyone else need anything? Is this movie violently racist or a nuanced homage to wuxia cinema? I probably should’ve put the lime in the coconut, shaken it all up, then added the pina colada. That makes more sense.
John’s thoughts prior to re-watching: Excitement; joy; brief but intense moments of arousal thinking about Kim Catrall; more sustained moments of arousal thinking about Kurt Russell. . . you know, the usual.
Molly’s thoughts post-viewing: I definitely come down on the side of this movie being pastiche/homage to wuxia more than a completely racist depiction of Chinese people and their wily, Oriental ways. I mean, nothing in this film is more ridiculous than, say, the part in The Seventh Curse where we learn that the hero of the film went to Thailand to find an herb to cure AIDS but instead rescues a Thai girl? From cultists? And he gets a blood curse that causes his blood? To explode? And Old Ancestor? Or the part in Mr. Vampire where—ok, actually, just any part of Mr. Vampire, even the goddamn title. I mean—really. Sure, Big Trouble is a Hollywood film rather than a Hong Kong film, but c’mon, the IMDB character list includes such extras a “One Ear” and “Joe Lucky.” Then again it was 1986, but I’d like to think Carpenter knew what he was doing. Yet, somehow, Big Trouble also transcends pastiche. It never grows old, never suffers from slow pacing or a moment of making a lick of sense.
Anyways, THIS MOVIE. My husband makes a lot more sense if you’ve seen it. It’s rad, and I love it.
Jesse’s thoughts post-viewing: Yup, the old magic is still there. The question of whether or not it is racist is debatable, of course, but like Molly I lean toward it being a joyful tribute to Hong Kong cinema—it’s pitch perfect in many regards, and self-aware enough for me to give Carpenter and crew the benefit of the doubt. There’s also the fact that it is completely awesome, but I wasn’t going to let that sway me one way or the other.
It’s just as baffling as when I saw it twenty years ago, and just as amazing—the filmmakers did not give a single fuck if it made a lick of sense so long as it was unrelentingly ridiculous, and that it is. The clip we included above of Carter Wong inflating? It’s established earlier that he has human blowfish powers, sure, but why does he explode? Is he so angry he loses control? Is he too saddened by the death of Lo Pan to go on living in a world without a lecherous old gremlin in a wheel chair who can astrally project himself? The audience doesn’t know, the characters don’t know, and I sincerely doubt the screenwriters know, either. But it doesn’t matter. This is the beauty of Big Trouble in Little China—everything is a set-up to one of the following:
a) A one-liner, usually delivered by Kurt Russell
b) A fight sequence
c) A crazy mystical occurrence
d) Any combination of a, b, and c
I was ok with that when I was a kid, and I’m ok with it as a pina colabbered adult. May the wings of liberty never lose a feather.
John’s thoughts post-viewing: Yeah, this movie’s still got it. And by “it” I mean “everything that is awesome in this universe.” It’s got Kim Catrall being sexy, Kurt Russell driving a semi, kung fu, Chinese black magic, monsters, gunfights, swordfights, innuendos, and entendres. Pretty much everything that I love. It’s like Woody Allen says about orgasms: “my worst one was right on the money.” I could re-watch this movie while undergoing surgery sans anesthesia and still enjoy the hell out of it.
Also, this movie is a loving paean to everything: kung fu movies, westerns, noir, screwball comedies. . . everything! Listen to the banter between Jack and Gracie (hell, just listen to the names Jack and Gracie) and you’ll hear John Carpenter tenderly kissing the brow of Howard Hawks. Try not to think of John Wayne as Kurt Russell stares down Lo Pan and asks “you know what Jack Burton always says?” You can’t do it! This movie is an homage to film in general, and kung fu film most of all. Egg Shen is like a kung fu Jesus. Compare this film to The Golden Child and you’ll see the difference.
This movie shaped by childhood and continues to reshape my adulthood. I typically go back to this film and Captain Ron whenever I’m feeling adrift on the sea of life, and they guide me back to myself. Yeah, you read that right.
High Points: The entire goddamn movie. Rather than singling out any specific clip, I think this music video that John Carpenter’s band Coupe de Ville made for the movie says it all. You heard: John Carpenter’s band. Behold:
Final Verdict: Nearly twenty-five years later, this movie still shakes the Pillars of Heaven.
Next Time: Probably nothing this good. Maybe an episode or two of Shelly Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre to cleanse the palate.
Thanks to the efforts of two awesome people, my site is pretty much up and running! First off, my dawgg Mason set up the initial WP site, and he is awesome and dealt with my complete craziness and utter ignorance of what I needed or wanted. You should go check out his charity.
The absolutely gorgeous banner is courtesy Stephen at Reakt Design. Stephen’s work speaks for itself but he is also a super-nice dude which made working with him fun on the “omg look at my adorable site!” level as well as the “hey you are a fun dude, too!” level. Woo!
Apparently Boulder (my fair city) is doing its part to ensure that no business trips to Arizona can or will be taken by city employees. Regardless of how I feel about the ban, I must say I enjoy the way they’re going about it. To wit, this email exchange (procured by my local newspaper under the Colorado Open Records Act) between a Mr. Markewich, president of the Markewich Financial Group (located in Colorado Springs), and Boulder City Councilman Macon Cowles.
Mr. Markewich’s initial email: I am outraged that the city of Boulder would waste time denigrating the state of Arizona’s attempt to control what is going on within its own borders. We are asked for identification upon boarding planes, using credit cards and other daily activities. The (Arizona) law does nothing except give the police the ability to identify illegal aliens.
The response, from Mr. Cowles: Jeff, you must not be much of a Buffs fan! We’ll miss not having you visit Boulder. If you are looking for a good substitute destination for you and your family, I recommend Focus on the Family, which is quite close to where you live and work. I know they have a lot of white people working there. I am not sure where they get the lettuce for their salads, though.
Thanks, Boulder City Councilman Macon Cowles. And thanks for your quip that you’d been receiving “hate mail” from “people who think racial profiling is just great.”
Apparently some folks in my state (like Republican state Senator Dave Schultheis–also from Colorado Springs, which is, also, the home of Focus on the Family, the organization mentioned above that brings the world such amazingly coherent theories of transgenderism as (and I paraphrase), “because in Genesis God separates light and dark and male and female, transgender people and those who support them are deconstructing God’s order”) are unhappy about the Republic of Boulder’s general attitude toward Arizona, and have called for a boycott of Boulder because we act as a “sanctuary city” for illegal immigrants. I am quite fine with this, as it means more seats will be available at my coffee shop that has the cool biodegradable cups and fewer assholes shoving me out of the way as they try to get to the samples of roquefort-stuffed olives at Whole Foods.
I do wonder, however, as Boulder is more obviously a sanctuary for Objectivists, not illegal aliens (at said coffee shop there is someone who has a car not only sporting a bumper sticker asking “Who is John Galt?” but also has the vanity plate “SHRUGED” of all things, and even if he/she isn’t getting a latte when I am, I see at least one Galt-themed bumper sticker a day around town, on average), if there will be any cases of “wingnut flight” in the area (wingnut flight, if you’re unfamiliar, is a social phenomenon far less common than white flight, studies say, since there is nothing a wingnut likes to do than dig in his or her heels over an issue). Probably not. After all, with the property values being what they are it’s safer to bide and sell when the economy recovers, and I’m pretty sure most folks in Boulder are still genuinely shocked when they see a non-white person. . . even with the city being a “sanctuary city” for immigrants.
I suppose, though, there’s a chance these folks are talking about illegal immigrants from England? Or Germany? Or Switzerland? Maybe so. It’s a problem. There’s so much to attract them! Like the REI, and plenty of good hiking.
Jesse Bullington and I have (perhaps foolishly) decided to embark upon a quest: watching “classic” adventure movies that informed one or both of our childhoods. This week we’re breaking out the Bandits and summoning forth hyper-intelligent overdubbed ferrets for your reading pleasure!
The Film: The Beastmaster (1982)
WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS??? Direction by Don Coscarelli who, between the Phantasm series and Bubba Ho-tep, knows his way around a B movie. Donny boy co-wrote with Paul Pepperman (who never wrote anything again), based on a novel by Andre Norton (who hated the film and disavowed it). Soundtrack by Lee Holrdige, perhaps best known for his television soundtracks such as the made-for-TV Mists of Avalon movie and that one episode of “One Life to Live” (Episode #1.9837). Acting (it is to LOL) by Marc Singer (Beastmaster II: Through the Portal of Time, Beastmaster: The Eye of Braxus, the Beastmaster TV series), Tanya Roberts (Charlie’s Angels, That 70’s Show, Sheena), John Amos (The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Hunter, The West Wing), Rip Torn (How To Make an American Quilt, Men in Black, that recent youtube video of him drunk and bellowing in a police station), a couple of ferrets, a bird, and a dyed-black tiger.
Quote: “I am Dar, of the Emerites.”
“There are no more Emerites.”
“Thanks to the Juns, I’m the last.”
Alternate quote: “AAAHHHH” (as any number of cast members are hugged by the tiger, or as Molly is forced to watch TheBeastmaster)
First viewing by Jesse: Youuuuuuuuuuung. Probably when I was nursing.
First viewing by Molly: Young. Very young. There were ferrets, and it made me want one. I think I might have watched this with my friend Leslie. . . but I have no idea.
Most recent viewing by both: Maybe a month ago?
Impact on Jesse’s childhood development: Pretty goddamn high, truth be told. I mean, come on—dude has a vaguely eastern sword, some kind of throwing weapon, and a cool scar on his hand. Oh, and a motherfucking tiger. And an eagle. And two ferrets. And Tanya Roberts. Oh hells yes.
Impact on Molly’s childhood development: I hesitate on this because I simply don’t remember watching it. I feel like it probably spawned/reflected (the old pornography debate, right here on Films of High Adventure) what would be my lifelong interest in falconry, swords, and camp. Who knows, though?
Random youtube clip that hasn’t been taken down for copyright infringement:
Jesse’s thoughts prior to re-watching: Frankly, I knew it was going to hurt. You can’t have a movie like TheBeastmaster be an intrinsic part of your childhood and not be disappointed by revisiting it as an adult. Yet I bought the director’s cut on DVD when I stumbled across it at a flea market (natch) and have gone back to that well more than once in the last decade, but the water’s never been as sweet as I remembered. Still, I was buoyed by the knowledge that I would be watching it with Molly, whose reactions to this sort of nonsense promised to be at least as entertaining as the film itself.
Molly’s thoughts prior to re-watching: I refused to watch this at first until Jesse took the time to disabuse me of the urban legend regarding this film that I genuinely believed long into adulthood: that the tigers died from being spraypainted (Jesse says: It was vegetable dye—you can see it running off the tiger’s muzzle when it drinks). Thus enlightened, I agreed to watch it, but after viewing the opening scenes I turned it off, unwilling to go further until I was chided roundly for lacking appropriate courage. No words can express my unhappiness in being unable to protect myself from this movie by calling VeganFail.
Jesse’s thoughts post-viewing: Certain varieties of cheese age extremely well, others, not so much—stinkiness is not always an accurate barometer of the enjoyment one will garner from ingesting the product. The Beastmaster, for all my youthful adoration, falls a little flat upon re-watching. And by falls a little flat, I mean bellyflops into a drained swimming pool. Not pretty.
It’s long, for one thing, really, really goddamn long for a movie about a guy who’s born from a cow. Said birth was one of the high points, admittedly, (Molly wrinkles her nose and says: really?) but there’s a lot of downtime wherein the cast wanders around Utah and the Beastmaster himself cries because nobody likes him. Molly got the fidgets something fierce. Still, it’s not all bad. Check out this perfectly plausible Scene of High Adventure, for example:
So yeah, that totally happens in the movie, as does the scene where Dar convinces his tiger to play wingman and scare Tanya Roberts into his arms, which is about as classy as this movie gets.
I feel that something should be said about Dar’s animal buddies. As someone who owns ferrets I can attest that the wee beasties are just as intelligent and obedient as this movie makes them out to be—often when I need to retrieve my keys after they’ve fallen into a pit with a roid-raging mutant I just lower one of my carpet sharks down on a piece of rope and they hop to action. Oh shit, I lied, I can’t even keep my weasels from squirming under the bookshelf or stealing each other’s treats—if only I had the many, manly gifts of Dar.
Is the movie as bad as Molly will doubtless make it out to be? Certainly not. (Molly says: I find your efforts to become the Good Cop of Films of High Adventure amusing, but I am not going to “just go get a cup of coffee” while you review this film.) There’s plenty of swordplay and witchery and unintentional silliness, and as with the first Phantasm movie, which I will love forever. Coscarelli does a lot with a little here, and comes out with a barbarian wannabe-epic that is certainly no worse than the majority of its contemporaries. That the majority of its contemporaries are unwatchable shit-piles helps it win this faint praise, but if I were The Beastmaster I would take what I could get.
Molly’s thoughts post-viewing: Sucky and boring. I know that previous Films of High Adventure columns have been long screeds about gender and race and innocence lost and shit like that, but I can’t be fucked to muster up the rage. I didn’t hate Beastmaster enough to rant about it a la what will forever be dubbed “The Ladyhawke Incident” . . . I just hated it because it was dull. I forgot anything important about it instantly upon finishing the film. Jesse’s pulled quote above reminded me that there was the sidekick in leather-daddy gear but I had totally forgotten him; similarly, I do not recall much (anything) about the Love Interest or the Villain except for vague impressions of Rip Torn being all crazyful and tweaking out. Is that even right? Yeah, I guess so. I got pretty intoxicated watching this, frankly. Self-preservation. I do recall, though, almost murdering Jesse when he put on the commentary and re-watched several scenes.
Just. . . why? Why was this movie made? Why was the script written down and then dittoed onto innocent pieces of paper that never hurt anybody? Why did no one ever say “hey, guys, let’s re-think this. . . because it is awful”? Why did someone overdub the ferrets with non-ferret noises? Why. . . never mind. The sooner I stop writing about this movie, the sooner I can stop writing about this movie.
High Points: Finding out the tigers didn’t die. The thought experiment where you imagine the deal to get Klaus Kinski to play the villain didn’t fall through, leaving all involved with Rip Torn in gross veneers. The fact that this isn’t Beastmaster II, which even as a ten year old kid I knew sucked, or Beastmaster 3, which even as a stoned, David Warner-obsessed teenager I knew was also Suckville City, Population: That Movie. The part with the nasty bat-dudes, which has found a very specific audience on youtube—this particular clip was described as “Vore scene from Beastmaster. See a man getting eaten by a cloak monster. Too bad the hot and sexy beast master doesn’t get eaten too.” Truer words were never spoken:
Low points:Dar’s stupid Skeletor-face and, well, Skeletor-skirt. The movie as a whole.
Final Verdict: A big batch of stink-biscuits baked in Hell, served piping hot but profoundly stale, says Molly. That’s a little harsh, says Jesse, what about the part where the ferrets rescue him from the deadly oatmeal pit? Molly says whatever, moving on.
A few films I’ve watched over the past few weeks have inspired me to break the radio silence on the blog. That, and the fact that apparently my awesome uncle Glenn got his copy of Running with the Pack that he had pre-ordered, so yay! I’m going to talk about the book more extensively after I’ve read a few more of the stories so for now: it is beautiful (I got my contributor copy), it is filled with awesome stories. Woo!
Sherlock Holmes: I went down to visit my parents recently and had a really good time doing all sorts of things, including watching a few movies. Of the three we watched, Sherlock Holmes was the only I hadn’t seen previously, and I have something to say about this film: it is fucking awesome. I say this having read every story/novel Doyle wrote about Sherlock Holmes, as well as a few spinoffs. Honesty compels me to note, specifically, that whilst in the throes of an early teen obsession with The Phantom of the Opera I read a mashup involving Holmes and the Phantom solving crimes? Or something? Anyways, that book wasn’t so great, but this movie is amazing. John was ambivalent about it; my parents were baffled but amused (I think). I loved it. It had just about everything I want in a movie: explosions, vaguely steampunk sets, occult weirdness, homoerotic tension, Robert Downey Jr. with his shirt off punching people sweatily. YES! It certainly took its liberties with the Doyle character, but I’m OK with that. I love Basil Rathbone and Brent Spiner aping Basil Rathbone as much as the next nerd, but it was really nice to see something different. Downey Jr.’s Holmes is just as insightful and brilliant as more canonical representations of Holmes, but I really liked the decision to play up the fact that Mr. “The Game Is Afoot” is kind of a fucking mess: drug-addled, reclusive, emotionally stunted, immature, messy, mixed up over Irene Adler and Watson, and willing to use both his tremendous intellect and tremendous strength to, say, beat people up viciously. Sure, it’s a big dumb blockbuster, but it kept me engaged visually and mentally: like the Star Trek reboot, there is plenty to make fans cheer without delivering the same old same old. The dynamic between Holmes and Watson is excellent, the decision to turn Irene Adler into a steampunk Fujiko amused me, the action sequences and patented Guy Ritchie “let’s speed things up and slow them down to make them look more awesome” was frankly dazzling. So, so good.
Gentlemen Broncos: Jesse convinced me to watch the latest from the Napoleon Dynamite team. While I thought Napoleon Dynamite was brilliant I disliked Nacho Libre intensely, so I was a little suspicious. No need: it was pretty fucking rad. The A.V. Club panned it for reasons passing understanding. . . well, I suppose they are right about the lack of plot, but I don’t really care if aesthetics trump action (I just re-watched 300 on blu-ray, after all). It’s especially good if you love pulp sci-fi and/or visit the Good Show, Sir! site once in a while (or more often). Gentlemen Broncos is worth watching for a number of reasons: the dude from Flight of the Concords does this spot-on Tim Curry impression, as well as doing an amazing job holding court at a broke-down writers’ workshop; Sam Rockwell plays Bronco/Brutus, a sci-fi hero in a series of cutaway scenes with simply amazing visuals.
A Nightmare on Elm Street (Orig. and Remake): I had, seriously, made it to 28 without seeing A Nightmare on Elm Street. I’d seen parts and been alarmed by a too-young Johnny Depp, but that was it. Raechel has an obsession bordering on the unwholesome with the series (“I’ve seen the original probably over 100 times,” she said, and then added “and the rest of the films probably 8 or 9 times apiece.”), so she was super-stoked to see the remake. After copping to my ignorance, we watched the original last Thursday, which I found genuinely enjoyable, and then the remake on Friday, which I was somewhat less enthusiastic about. I thought some things about the remake were OK. . . but the decision to cast Rorschach as Freddy made the experience kinda surreal. Jesse and John spent probably 15 minutes after the film trading lines pretending to be a mashup of the two characters to my delight (“Saw a dead teenager today. This city’s going to hell.” That kind of thing). I guess what impressed me most about the original was how groundbreaking the special effects were and how good they still looked (but I will forever curse overuse of CGI in films); the new one, by contrast, pushed no envelopes. . . that said, there are some really nice visuals. I dunno. It’s just that thing with horror where my mind rebells at utter nonsense. Not perhaps so much things like “he was burned to death and so comes back to kill them in their dreams” which, admittedly, makes no fucking sense whatsoever, but I’m willing to suspend disbelief for occult weirdness (or gorgeous aesthetics, like in the aforementioned 300). I mean more how they decided in this remake (spoilers, I suppose) to have Freddy be. . . the gardener at a preschool? OK, sure, he looks like a creep but whatevs. . . then we get to the fact that he lives? Under? The preschool? In a dungeon with a dirty mattress and drawings done by the kids? Sure! Whatever! And a parent who participated in the mob justice administered on Freddy (where? This. . . uh. . . warehouse! Sure!) admits to never finding the kiddie porn cave or whatever, but two sleep-deprived teens find it with a flashlight in like. . . three seconds? Because they moved a corkboard? OK! Sure! Meh. That kind of thing just makes my brain move too much on its own to be really scared by any of the content of the film. I mean, it’s easy to make me jump–I’m the twitchiest motherfucker imaginable–but I need more convincing acting, dialogue, and plotting to really scare me. Or maybe not, as the Tom Cruise War of the Worlds gave me nightmares for months, but whatevs. I am irrationally frightened of alien invasion. SHUT UP!
That’s all, folks! Except for the tremendously wonderful news that my dad’s been feeling pretty OK during his chemo (he emailed me to say he’d eaten pizza and salad for dinner one night! GO DAD!) and the fact that I’ve written damn near close to half a novel in three weeks, things have been quiet. Probably going to see Kick Ass and the new Iron Man soon. I’ll review when/if that happens. Much love everyone!
Oh ho, dear reader! Films of High Adventure has been picked up by Fantasy Magazineonce a month, and today is our debut where we run roughshod over Legend while admitting the effect the Black Dress Scene had on our young hearts and minds. Hope you like it!
Jesse Bullington and I have (perhaps foolishly) decided to embark upon a quest: watching “classic” adventure movies that informed one or both of our childhoods. This week we tackle prolly the first for-grownups anime I ever watched and thus love even though. . . well, moving on!
The Film: Vampire Hunter D (1985)
Also Known As: Kyûketsuki hantâ D (1985)
WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS??? Original series of novels by Hideyuki Kikuchi, which feature illustrations by certifiably badass artist Yoshitaka Amano (http://www.amanosworld.com/), who in turn did the character design for the film. Japanese script by Yasushi Hirano (the Dirty Pair tv series) and direction by Toyoo Ashida (Fist of the North Star), English script by Tom Wyner (better known for his voice acting in both video games and various English dubs of anime) and direction by Carl Macek (founder of Streamline who passed away last Saturday—the patron saint of some 80s American otaku and the hated whipping boy of others). Voice acting in the English dub by Michael McConnohie (the Lich King in World of Warcraft [Molly says: OMG REALLY?! FTW!!], countless other video game and anime roles) as D, Barbara Goodson (again, lots of anime, such as Naruto, and video games, only here it’s Everquest instead of WoW) as Doris, Lara Cody—hell, you get the idea, people you’ve probably never heard of but whose work you might vaguely recognize. Head over to imdb if you’re still curious. To recreate the Small Times experience we watched it in English so we won’t bother digging up the Japanese voice actors, and we’re happy to report that the dubbing is not as atrocious as many a Streamline production.
Quote: “You and your kind should go back to where you belong! Back to the abyss! Of oblivion!”
Alternate quote: “My father was a werewolf hunter. ‘Want to know about vampires?’ he’d say, ‘ask a vampire hunter.’”
First viewing by Jesse: Early middle school—in other words, the perfect time for a budding anime nerd to experience the bugfuck insanity that is this movie.
First viewing by Molly: About the same. After I discovered—maybe Sailor Moon?—I went lookin for anime at Blockbuster. They had this, and Baoh, and some Slayers, and some other stuff as well as Wizards, which nobody hold their breath about because there’s no way I’m watching that turd-burgle again for posterity.
Most recent viewing by both: Last week.
Impact on Jesse’s childhood development: I keep saying moderate for everything so I won’t say that here—embarrassing an admission though it is, this was fairly formative for young Jesse. This wasn’t the first anime I watched, nor was it the best, but it was pretty goddamn awesome for a horror and fantasy buff who was in the midst of “the change.”
Impact on Molly’s childhood development: I feel like an echo this week, but yeah. This blew my mind when I saw it. The sexy violence, the sexy shower scene (Jesse says: ask anyone about this movie who saw it as a kid and they’ll mention this, even though it’s all of one and a half seconds long), the 2001-style psychedelic ending, the design of the D character (shut up!), omg. Reared on Disney/Rankin-Bass (ok, so we will do The Hobbit/The Last Unicorn fo’ sho’) this was beyond sortakinda yeahmaybe formative films like, say, Ghost in the Shell.
Random youtube clip that hasn’t been taken down for copyright infringement:
Jesse’s thoughts prior to re-watching: Less than optimistic. Spotty as my taste is now, twelve year old Jesse was far less discerning, especially in those cold, barren days of the early 90s when anime fans took whatever they could find and said thank you. If you only got into anime post-Princess Mononoke or so you have no idea how bad it was back then, dudes all throwing down twenty bucks at a con for a badly copied vhs of the first Ranma movie without so much as fan subs, just the straight Japanese when the extent of their vocabulary was otaku, kawaii, and ecchi. And that was the early 90s—I don’t even want to imagine what things were like in the 70s and 80s, but I’ve heard stories, dark, weird, sweaty stories of desperation and Captain Harlock.
But I digress. I knew there would be a lot of monsters to keep me occupied, and maybe even enough epic silliness to blot out the memory that in a roleplaying game I was running at the time of my first viewing I quickly had Doris show up as an NPC and exit stage left with the Jesse-stand-in NPC. I was a pretty bad GM, and maybe just a bad person in general. Oh sweet internet, the confessions you draw forth from my sordid breast—next you’ll be having me admit my undying 11 year old love for Kahm from Outlanders. I issue my profuse apologies to any of my fellow middle schoolers who participated in that particular session, and to any and all Films of High Adventure readers while I’m at it. So yeah, a little nervous going in.
Molly’s thoughts prior to re-watching: I dunno. I remembered the mechano-horses and thinking the movie would’ve been better without the wisecracking demon hand (also I remember that shower scene) but other than that I’d forgotten a bunch, so I was pretty enthusiastic. “Come on,” I said, “let’s do Vampire Hunter D!” “Waaaaahhhhh” said Jesse, but I was the one to insist.
Jesse’s thoughts post-viewing: Hey, not as bad as I had feared! This is the real shit, vintage 80s fantasy by way of vintage 80s anime, and I’m ok with that. Sure, there’s a lot of stupidity going on, but overall it was fairly painless, and in some spots a lot of fun.
That said, I think that as with a lot of the movies we’re taking on the ability to extract enjoyment from the picture is relative to having seen it earlier in life. That’s just a theory, of course, but I think it’s a decent one—the animation, while competent, is certainly dated, and the simplicity of the plot doesn’t leave a lot of room for charity unless one already has a soft spot for D. Then again, it is one stylistic beast, with the titular vampire hunter looking like Solomon Kane at a Bauhaus concert and everyone else looking equally weird/awesome—where’s the rest of Doris’s skirt? What is up with Lamika’s head? What is up with Greco, period?
Part of what makes this hold up is how different it is from the bulk of vampire stories—I tend to award a lot of points for originality where things like vampires and ghosts are concerned, and D has originality in spades. Granted, much of it is the kind of originality that consists of taking pre-existing ideas and jumbling them all together, but it’s still better than the bulk of boring, rehashed bullshit you too often see in vampire films. Rather than being a pseudo-Gothic vampire story, or worse, Anne Rice-wannabe nosfopatus agonizing over how tough it is to be a super-being, Vampire Hunter D is a post-apocalyptic western homage with hordes of mutants and other monsters filling in the vampire gaps, and bizarre flourishes like D’s talking left hand and mechanical horse.
Molly’s thoughts post-viewing: I thought this movie was OK even when Jesse was insisting I was insane to think so (prior to re-watching), and I think it’s pretty OK now. There are weak points—the hand is annoying; the end makes no sense; the characters’ actions make even less sense (Why does Doris’s dad hunt werewolves but know nothing about vampires? Why does the dude who wants to mack on Doris try to kill vampires when he’s obviously incompetent? Why does Lamika act/feel the way she does? What is her obsession with nobility? After her dad’s a d-bag to her why would she rather die than live elsewhere? Why was she even hanging out with “Greco” (?) at all? WTF). But, still, even so, this movie holds a certain charm. The design is neat, even with the dated anime-girl hair on Doris and the stock Adorable Kid Brother Who Needs A Father Figure (Jesse says: Shane!), and the monsters are cool! Mutants are pretty rad always, and I think the cattle-eating mist-monsters were actually new and interesting, as well as some of the other little things like, say, Magnus Lee’s. . . basement o’ horrors? Because he has one?
But at the same time, I gotta say. . . I think most of my “well, what the fuck, why not?” attitude was due to (1) the childhood affection thing Jesse talked about, and (2) that essentially this movie inspired, sorta, one of the most ridiculous/fun role playing games I’ve been in. So. . . yeah! I dunno? Sure!
High Points: The overall aesthetic. The sheer insanity that governs much of the film. All them crazy lookin mutants:
Final Verdict: Molly Says: Pretty OK, especially as compared to most of what I grew up watching. Except for Sailor Moon, which I still love unconditionally. Jesse Says: Pretty OK, indeed, and better we not go into further detail regarding things from Japan I loved unconditionally when I was in middle school.
Next Week: We’ll link to Films of High Adventure up on Fantasy Magazine, woo! Check as we’ll be deconstructing Legend. I anticipate making everyone uncomfortable with what I’m sure will be a rousing discussion of certain scenes in that film that were incredibly formative for oh-so-young me.
So a million years ago when I was just a wee Tanz I watched The Princess Bride and I knew then forevermore my heart belonged to Cary Elwes and eventually my life would turn out like this:
except with photoshop, i guess
Well, that didn’t happen, but that’s OK because I am in love with this new project in that gibbering head-over-heels sort of manner that people affect when they’ve met that new someone (you know, when you can’t shut up about your new squeeze and no one cares but your friends humor you and agree that every stupid insignificant moment between you and your new person does indeed bear repeating and is significant). Perhaps it’s not quite akin to what I felt for Cary Elwes all those years ago, but damn near close.
And for what I specifically imagined I’d have with Mr. Elwes, well, that turned out lovely as well.
Well! News! OMG! “Films of High Adventure” has been picked up by Fantasy Magazine! Now, on the last Wednesday of each month, Jesse and I will run roughshod over the childhoods of many a film-watcher for the Fantasy audience. Our first go-round for FM will be Legend, so fear not, we will indeed deal with the devil soon enough. We’ll still be running the column weekly on our blogs, but our more fantasy-movie fodder will be over there, and our fantasy/sci-fi/adventure/whatever movies will be right here where you’re used to, save we’ll be doing this nonsense on Wednesdays to match up with the Fantasy slot. Anyways: ONWARD!
The Film: Tank Girl (1995)
Also Known As: Lori Petty, Lori Petty, Oh Lori Petty (2010)
Also AKA as: The Film that Ended Multiple Hollywood Careers (1995)
WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS??? Original comic book by Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin, screenplay by Tedi Sarafian (the Christopher Lambert/David Arquette picture The Road Killers). Direction by Rachel Talalay, who has done nothing but television since—a waste of cinematic talent, as her previous two films, Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare and Ghost in the Machine, were nothing short of. . . well, two films that got made in the early 90s. Tank Girl also marked the last real starring cinematic role for Lori Petty—surely it must be a coincidence that the director, screenwriter, and star didn’t work in pictures much after this. Awesome soundtrack by a mid-90s teenager’s compact disc collection—L7, Veruca Salt, Hole, Bush, Bjork, Belly (Molly still owns both albums to this day), Portishead, Stomp (!). Oh, and also Ice-T, Devo, Joan Jett, Iggy Pop, Isaac Hayes, and on and on and on—definitely from an era where the runtime of the soundtrack was roughly the same length as the movie itself. Not-at-all-hammy acting from Lori Petty (A League of Their Own), Malcolm McDowell (more of a Star Trek: Generations performance than A Clockwork Orange here), Ice-T (uh, Johnny Mnemonic, Law and Order: SVU), Iggy Pop as a pedophile listed in the credits as “Rat Face,” and an adorably earnest Naomi Watts (Mulholland Drive, I <3 Huckabees).
Quote: “Lock up your sons!”
Alternate quote: “What the hell is that?!” “I think it’s Cole Porter, sir.”
First viewing by Molly: Gawd. I saw a spot with Lori Petty on some crap morning news-lite program wherein she recounted how she got the part: she was, allegedly, sent the script but instead of calling to say she’d take the role she shaved her head and burst into the office of the casting director and screeched “I am Tank Girl!” I fell promptly in love. My parents, however, refused to take me to a rated-R movie in the theater, but the moment it came out on VHS I rented it, so, what? 1995? 1996? Better question: why do I remember this chain of events so vividly? Oh, because Tank Girl is, in all seriousness, probably the most influential film I saw as a teenager. Feel free to take from that what you will.
First viewing by Jesse: I missed it in theatres but ordered it on pay-per-view.
Most recent viewing by both: Two weeks ago.
Impact on Molly’s childhood development: Severe. As I said, this was probably number one for Teenage Molly. (Number one for Small Times Molly will be our first spot over at Fantasy Magazine, incidentally.) But anyways: this film—nay, to young Molly, this was no mere film, but a cinematic masterpiece. I was enchanted from the very first moments, when the credits open with stills from the comic book; the first lines where Lori Petty is riding a weird post-apocalyptic ox or something, omg. Rapture! Her punky, homemade style; her shaved head (which it took me until college to imitate, but I was not a bold teenager); her attitude! Her filthy mouth! Her willingness (and ability) to use her sexuality to defeat opponents! Her remorseless inclination to just straight-up murder bad dudes; her really bizarre relationship with Booga the kangaroo-man! I loved Jet Girl, too (in subsequent viewings Jet became not the dark horse in the running but the Star of the Show for me, incidentally); actually, I loved everything. To be perhaps too serious about this, it was a model of femininity I had not encountered previously, and it fucked my mind in the tender, loving way a sheltered 14-15 year old girl should have her mind fucked [Jesse says: . . . Jesse doesn’t really have anything to say to that, actually]. I actually watched it the first time in two separate viewings as I started it with my parents when I rented it; they turned it off with the quickness, but I finished it the next day and there was no turning back. Thus I became the lone champion of this film in high school (or perhaps the one person who’d seen it) and showed it to all my bestest friends (one friend and I had a Malcolm McDowell double-feature as she’d never seen A Clockwork Orange, either; another loved it so much that we both went dressed as Tank Girl for Halloween one year). I also, and I just now remembered this, used Tank Girl for an art project I had in like, maybe 8th grade, wherein I had to design a movie poster for an existing film. So, yeah.
Impact on Jesse’s childhood development: Moderate. It got me into Bjork and L7, and I was deeply in love with both Tank and Jet for some time afterward. I remember thinking there could have been more animation (I was that kind of youth).
Random youtube clip that hasn’t been taken down for copyright infringement:
Molly’s thoughts prior to re-watching: I was super-excited, as I always am when I dig this movie out of my closet or wherever it lives (yes, I own it on DVD). I had mentioned a few of my favorite parts to Jesse and his baffled “that happens?!” reaction made me happy because it was clear he’d be experiencing the wonder all over again for the first time.
Jesse’s thoughts prior to re-watching: Molly’s played the soundtrack on roadtrips before, so I knew that would be going on—“Army of Me” is still one of my favorite Bjork songs, so I knew it would have that going for it, at least. And hey, I remembered enjoying it, and between Malcolm McDowell gobbling scenery and Ice-T dressed up as a kangaroo monster I assumed it would be good for a dopey dose of camp shenanigans. I was also, truth be told, curious to see the objects of my teenage double-crush again.
Molly’s thoughts post-viewing: I vowed to be as critical as any other film we’ve done else with this movie, and I will, even though it is a rather bittersweet experience for me. I had very mixed feelings this time. I really can’t watch Tank Girl without part of me reverting to the utterly enchanted, socially-awkward, bespectacled, acne-riddled, shy, Pern-obsessed kid I was, and experiencing that sort of regression makes it difficult to be truly objective. But here it is: this movie is terrible. I understand more now why my parents turned it off, honestly. To young Molly, Tank Girl herself had a transgressive attitude and a bad-ass personality; as an adult, I am increasingly able to tear away the veil of childhood and realize that Tank’s personality is essentially a collection of one-liners and mid-90s outfits. Not that I don’t love one-liners and mid-90s outfits, but watching this movie these days leaves me wanting more—wanting to see what I saw as a kid. I type this, listening to the soundtrack (which has bridged the gap from CD to iTunes; in fact, it was one of the first I transferred over back in the day), getting, truth be told, a little sentimental. But as an adult, I see more of this movie’s flaws, I guess. Primary offense: the amount of attention the film pays to Tank’s physical body as an object of sexual desire works to strip her agency in certain ways; she is both subject and object, and while I believe that is OK for films to do, this film handles it badly most of the time. Counter-argument: I still harbor an unalloyed love of the scene (not on YouTube, unfortunately), where Tank is in the dressing room of Liquid Silver, the whorehouse, and a hologram is telling her how best to dress to be alluring to men. Tank, of course, ignores the advice to stroll out of the experience with a ton of earrings in her cartilage, wearing filthy combat boots and a slinky black negligee as a dress, holding a giant gun and smoking a cigarette whereupon she intones, “lock up your sons!” OMG. Secondary offences include, just to name a few, the sorta-kinda rape-revenge plot hovering around Jet (snooze), having Jet’s kangaroo love interest (an interesting statement in and of itself) make many sexually-inappropriate remarks and then actually hump her [Jesse says: seconded. I fucking hated that d-bag ‘roo, and not just cause he was macking on Jet], giving Tank a name (she doesn’t have one in the comic book, which I read so often it pretty much fell apart), other things.
But you know what? FUCK THAT NOISE. This film is awesome! I retract my earlier statement. Jesus! The scene where the adorable moppet uses her “danger ball” to send a host of spikes through Iggy Pop’s pedophile hands! The scene where Malcolm McDowell makes an unsatisfactory general walk across a floor filled with broken glass particles and then it is revealed HE HIMSELF IS BAREFOOT OMG HE IS SUCH A VILLIAN! The montage where Jet and Tank re-paint their vehicles to fit the mid-90s aesthetic of the film! The scene where Tank Girl tells the aforementioned moppet not to call people “butt smear” because “it’s not becoming; say asshole, or dickwad, instead”! The celebration sequence where the head kangaroo-dude (who is, incomprehensibly, a reincarnation of Jack Kerouac) plays the saxophone and recites the following poem:
Laugh, you butterfly
That dances in the mud
Laugh, you piece of dental floss
You burn, me toast.
Laugh, you pig that flies in the sky
With rainbow twinky fluid
And three litres of high-octane petrol.
AAAAHHHH! YES! YES! I AM TANK GIRL!
Jesse’s thoughts post-viewing: Welllll, this was one that didn’t hold up as much as I had hoped, and I doubt I’ll be able to match Molly’s enthusiastic response, but here goes. The plot, when it periodically pokes its head out of the sand, is terminally stupid—why does Malcolm McDowell do what he does? Why does anyone do what they do? Baffling. Perhaps it’s a good thing, then, that the plot spends most of the film hibernating and we are instead treated to a kaleidoscopic series of random episodes and inappropriate sexual humor (sample dialogue: “You gotta think about it like the first time you got laid. You gotta go: ‘Daddy, are you sure this is right?’”) As a kid I wanted more animation but upon re-watching it I think a good balance was struck between stills from the comic, live action footage, and the animated bits:
Director Talalay apparently did not get final cut—word on the desert is that the original cut didn’t have quite so much Tankgirl-as-sexual-object stuff, but the footage that’s there speaks for itself. There’s also no getting around the fact that the movie stars Lori Petty in full-on Lori Petty mode, and while I’m down with that some people will most certainly not be. Then there’s Ice-T in kangaroo makeup, which seems suitable punishment for his tricking me into watching the execrable Alyssa Milano vehicle Body Count—it had the same name as his metal band and starred the bastard, so I had every right to expect something more than a dull Alyssa Milano vehicle…right? Hey, say what you will about the ice man, he did good in New Jack City, though he was no Pookie.
Although I didn’t remember much of Tank Girl I at least knew what I was getting into—I cannot begin to imagine the effect it might have on someone who had made it to the year 2010 without being exposed. Incredulity would be a word that might come to mind. Perhaps the most damning element of the film is how good it could have been. I’m not really familiar with the source comic but given what’s on display here stylistically something could have been cobbled together plot-wise beyond the brain-dead chain of events that propels the action and offensive jokes. And this is coming from a fan of the Cannonball Run. Still, it has some amazing scenes and a fun atmosphere, and the exact dopey campiness I was anticipating. Plus it has Naomi Watts and Lori Petty changing outfits every two minutes, which is good news if you’re into crazy fashion or post-apocalyptic bombshells.
High Points: The costumes. The soundtrack.The willingness of the cast to participate in the silliest scenes imaginable. Case in point:
Final Verdict: 15-year old Molly votes this Best Film of the Millennium. 28-year old Jesse shakes his head and laments what could have been.
Next Week (Wednesday): Not sure yet. Feel free to make suggestions!
Tag this under “totally thrilled” because. . . well, OK. I mean, you read it.
