It’s War!

From right-wing think-tank Townhall.com, the cloture of a middling Health Care bill has inspired the next generation of neo-civil war veterans. Praise The Lord and Pass The Ammo:

“I’d rather die on my feet, than live on my knees. Our next actions must be carefully planned. VERY carefully planned. Soft targets are best for lone wolves. Take care of yourself.”

Here’s another manifesto from a FOX/Beck/Palin proto-warrior:

“Its WAR. The American congress has declared war against the American people. They voted to impose slavery on 99 % of the country. This is war on our freedom. This is exactally why there is a need for revolution. These democrats dont care about the safety of their familys. Pick a target, (tides, acorn, americorp) people, and study it, Stay stealth until its time. There will now be a revolution. when it starts, it will not end until all the radical groups are wiped out. I will die for GOD for my family and for my freedom. We must now fight and wipe out the traitors in the government. When we get rid of them, we will regain all the great things our country stands for. Evil must be now wiped out. Good luck everyone, you’re not alone.”

Go Bears!

That’s the first time I ever expressed this archetypal UC Berkeley battle-cry from my Alma Mater. How come never before? To quote Kevin McCarthy from INNERSPACE, “Frankly, I don’t give a shit.” But I do care about these ridiculous UC tuition hikes that will further keep a brain drain on the state that’s already lost its collective mind by electing The Terminator twice. Blame our foreign entanglements. The eventual trillions being spent and squandered in Iraq and Afghanistan could help reduce our deficit and provide real health care for every American citizen. Not to mention pumping more funds into schools, the intellectual engines that hardwire the country into social and technological evolution. As a 60’s radical who wasn’t there, I always applaud the students in their revolts and it’s important to put a face on these struggles. Oh…Go Bears!

Forgotten Films: The Final Option (1982)

For about five minutes in 1982, Lewis Collins was whispered to be a likely successor to Roger Moore for the James Bond series. This seemingly unknown film — titled WHO DARES WIN in the United Kingdom — acted as his screen-test and based on his performance alone, I would have loved to see Collins step in as 007. He has Timothy Dalton’s serious gaze and Daniel Craig’s action physique. THE FINAL OPTION, written by Reginald Rose (THE WILD GEESE) and directed by Ian Sharp (who shot second unit for GOLDENEYE), was rushed into production in the wake of the terrorist capture of the Iranian Embassy in London and successful rescue by Special Air Services. The plot here is more dramatically arched: Frankie Leith (Judy Davis) the former lover of SAS agent Peter Skellen (Collins), leads a group of terrorists to capture an embassy in England and the agent goes undercover to convince Leith to let him join. With expected violent results.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on the film, as it’s not all that great, but there are nifty scenes and performances, and I still own the long out of print LP soundtrack with an awesome theme by the killer Roy Budd (GET CARTER). As stated, the main reason to watch THE FINAL OPTION is to pretend Collins is in a James Bond film; he’s quite intense and engaging. Another reason is to see the brilliant Judy Davis heft a machine-gun in her low-cut evening gown while mouthing political platitudes in a not-quite-right American accent, replete with lots of “fucking, man.” There’s also Edward Woodward in fine stock form as a SAS Commander and Richard Widmark as The American Diplomat.

I also enjoy the debates between the terrorists and their hostages, ridiculous though they be, since I’m a sucker for Stanley Krameresque adversarial dialogues. Even better are the action beats, with lots of rappeling and shooting, and Davis’ last moment is one of the most memorable scenes in 80’s action cinema. THE FINAL OPTION is still unavailable on DVD here, although you can pick it up on Region 2 under its original title. If you want a cinematic flashback to Reagan era jingoism and heroics, this is an interesting and underlooked timepiece.

Friday Song: Ben Folds Five

Normally, any late 90’s band with the name Ben Folds Five would probably not be allowed near my disc-rack or turntable. But I was feeling brave and bouncy, looking for some new indie rawk to act as background to Saturday cleaning during my Berkeley Days circa 1997. I had heard snippets of Ben Folds Five 1995 debut, and since I am a fan of rollicking piano music, I took a chance and picked up their second disc, “Whatever And Ever Amen.” Happily, this was the perfect record to clean by, and I still have fond memories of vacuming while listening to this even today. Although I never developed into a major fan, here’s “Battle Of Who Could Care Less,” a witty song about slacker apathy and my favorite BFF tune with my favorite lyrics of the 90’s (“This should cheer you up for sure/See I’ve got your old I.D./And you’re all dressed up like the Cure”). So bust out the duster and sing along. Or don’t. I don’t care. Really.

GOP Fearmongers

So I can’t figure it out from the Republican mindset: America bows to no one and we kick ass. But prosecuting the terrorists who attacked us on 9/11 in the city where they did the most damage is…wrong. Because America can’t handle it. Or worse. Now the GOP is reaching into their bag of slime via Louis Gohmert (Texas-R) to accuse Obama and the Democrats of wanting a terror attack so they can push through all their socialist programs.

Happily, this latest example of Republican hate and stupidity is not going unchallenged from Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee Chairman Chris Van Hollen:

“Congressman Louie Gohmert’s outrageous comments not only insult the victims of 9/11 and their families but also offer the latest evidence that the Republican Party has been taken over by right-wing extremists. House Republicans should immediately condemn Congressman Gohmert’s offensive remarks.

“Whether they’re attending ‘tea party’ rallies featuring Holocaust imagery, comparing health insurance reform to terrorism, or staying silent about plans to burn public officials in effigy, the tenor from House Republicans grows more alarming by the day.

“It’s long past time for the House Republican Leadership to speak out against this disturbing pattern of increasingly extreme rhetoric from their ranks and engage in the constructive search for solutions that America’s many challenges demand.”

Favorite Klaus Kinski Quote Theater

“Have A Coke And A Smile? I have a Coke and my stomach hurts.”

- Fangoria Magazine, 1982

Happy Birthday Martin Scorcese

How apropos that the New Beverly/Grindhouse Film Festival presented a Roberta Collins double-feature to honor her birthday memory (and Clu Gulager who was in his usual seat) and that the first film, THE UNHOLY ROLLERS (1972), happened to be edited by none other than Martin Scorcese in his Roger Corman toiling days. What’s fascinating about this raw, rough, roller derby exploitationer is that Scorcese’s editing fingers are so dominant all over the movie. From the rock n’ roll music montages to the clever voice-overs with kinetic footage used to show, not tell, his unique editing stands out in this rarely screened AIP drive-in standard. Alongside that you have the luscious 70’s exploitation queen Claudia Jennings skating her way to Hell with a team of cruel misfits. I could go on about MEAN STREETS or TAXI DRIVER — I prefer THE KING OF COMEDY myself — but I think Marty would dig a shout-out for his B-Movie backlot razzle-dazzle…Salud!

And the Academy Award goes to… Roger Corman!

Imagine those words being spoken in the 1960’s, after Corman had directed films like LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM, MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH, THE INTRUDER, and THE WILD ANGELS. His progeny of talent, including Jack Nicholson, Francis Coppola, Martin Scorcese, Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Robert De Niro, Peter Bogdanovich, Bruce Dern, Robert Towne, Jonathan Demme, Stephanie Rothman, Ron Howard, Joe Dante, John Sayles, James Cameron and many others, evolved into the foundation for the New Hollywood of the 70’s and beyond. Without Corman’s belief in fresh ideas and visions, however exploitive at the root, many talented and important filmmakers might not have had the chance to break celluloid ground. So it’s apropos that one of the industry’s biggest outsiders was finally awarded an Honorary Lifetime Achievement Oscar on Saturday along with Lauren Bacall and Gordon Willis. As when Ray Harryhausen was presented with one after decades of envy and indifference, it’s good to see the Academy acknowledge artists who created outside its respect or attention. Though I’m disappointed the statue wasn’t presented to Roger Corman during the live broadcast — just to see a cavalcade of Panavision AIP images before the world.

Edward Woodward RIP

Awesome English character actor Edward Woodward has moved on. I first noted him in my favorite 1980’s TV series, THE EQUALIZER, where he played an ex-agent who uses his bad powers for good, helping random citizens of New York. While my peers were reveling in the pastel pastiche of MIAMI VICE, I couldn’t wait for Woodward’s killer tude and Shakespearean diction to take-down the criminal scum of Fun City. I discovered his earlier work such as BREAKER MORANT and of course, THE WICKER MAN (1973) where he plays the inverse of his bad-ass New York hero. It was good to see him in HOT FUZZ to boot and he will be missed. Now here’s the coolest TV intro and theme from the 80’s, with music by Stewart Copeland:

Forgotten Films: Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia (1974)

It’s always fun and enlightening to viddy a cult curio that has established a crazed reputation over the years such as Sam Peckinpah’s BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA, his most bugfuck personal masterpiece. After the success of THE WILD BUNCH (1969), STRAW DOGS (1971) and THE GETAWAY (1972), Peckinpah finally gained the 70’s cinema privilege of Final Cut, which he’d been denied on his previous films, all edited against his vision. So Bloody Sam decided to take total advantage of his contract and deliver a filthy, searing treatsie on the nature of greed and obssession, filtered through Peckinpah’s cynical, romantic, misanthropic lens.

The story by Frank Kowalski, Gordon Dawson and Peckinpah is simple and ludicrous: a cruel gangster known only as “El Jefe” (Emilio Fernandez), outraged that his daughter has been made pregnant by her lover, Alfredo Garcia (uncredited), demands his head as proof of his death for one million dollars. A slick criminal organization represented by Robert Webber and Gig Young (surrogates for Team Nixon, whom Peckinpah called “killer apes in suits”) seek out information from Bennie, a lounge loser ex-pat who entertains the customers of a Mexican whorehouse. That our anti-hero is played by the late, great Warren Oates is enough engine to drive the picture to memorable madness.

By this time in his career, Oates was becoming one of the go-to character actors of the era (thanks to Peckinpah) and he had transcended his hick cowboy movie roots as “GTO” in Monte Hellman’s brilliant TWO-LANE BLACKTOP (1971), showing his range as actor and human being. As Austin Pendleton once told me about working with him on THE THIEF WHO CAME TO DINNER (1972), “He couldn’t do anything that wasn’t true.” To that end, Oates honors (sic) his wild director by using him as the character’s template, even wearing Peckinpah’s creme suit and dark sunglasses through the whole of the film. I can’t think of any cinema antecedent to the scene where Bennie pours Tequila over his crab-infested crotch. Although Warren Oates only had a few lead roles, he made each one count (even in DIXIE DYNAMITE) and BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA is one of his finest, bravest performances.

Since Bennie is involved with Alfredo Garcia’s previous lover, Elita, a prostitute played with quiet strength and carnality by Isela Vega, he offers that he can track down Garcia’s body for 10 grand, unaware of the million dollar bounty. Their tangled relationship is the lonely heart of the picture, with Bennie hoping his reward money can take him and Elita far from their dingy dusty existence. Of course, Peckinpah’s misogyny comes into bloom again, and like most of his other heroines, Elia is nearly raped by a sensitive biker played by Kris Kristoferson in a cameo. But it’s a mistake to take this alcoholic Bennie for a weakling; after he warns the bikers, “You two guys are definitely on my shit list,” he dispenses his own brand of Yankee vengeance.

The bloody journey to Garcia’s head continues with diminishing pleasures for the doomed lovers. Bennie becomes fixated on their mission as Isleta finds his obsessive pursuit revolting. And once Bennie comes into contact with Garcia, the movie becomes a surreal tragi-comedy, with Oates developing a twisted, caring relationship with his crimson, fly-specked head-in-a-bag. To reveal more would deprive you of the film’s dark, weird surprises. I particularly like Webber and Young as the quiet, vicious, possibly homosexual hit-men. Though the film is a metaphoric death-trip, there are plenty of action scenes with Peckinpah’s patented kinetic naturalism. And despite his conflicted feelings towards women, he allows them the final triumph of sensitive strength over Man’s brutal chaos, as El Jefe’s reign of barbarism comes to an end under the watchful, approving eyes of his female familia.

As stated, this is Sam Peckinpah’s most crazed film, and of course, the one of which he was most proud. The movie’s atmosphere is so grimy that I actually took a hot bath after it was over. The sweaty cinematography by Alex Phillips (who later shot a myriad of exploitation efforts like THE DEVIL’S RAIN, SORCERESS and SURF II) keeps you in the hothouse ambiance throughout. The final apropos image perfectly sums up Peckinpah’s cinematic state of mind here, this celluloid bullet to his audience and perhaps his own career as he would never again make such a personal work. Like Warren Oates at the violent climax, he’s had enough of the free-market gang-bang and he’s going out in a blaze of dirty glory. BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA is Peckinpah’s crippled swan song to Hollywood and belongs in the pantheon of great bizarro films from the 70’s.

Foreign Film

Ah, to be French, young, in love and politically radicalized in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1966 pop cinematic fever dream. This is one of those great 60’s films that gives you a feel for what that period was like and makes you want to go out to break all the rules. Viva la cine-revolucion!

Favorite Title Theatre: Friday The 13th Part 3 In 3-D (1982)

To honor the most superstitious day of the year, here’s the wicked opening to my favorite FRIDAY THE 13TH film of the apparently never-ending series. I saw this on Friday the 13th, 1982 (an amazing genre year) — and it was one of the great theatrical experiences of my life. I was there with my horror pal, Shawn Amato, and he was hilarious as his body would stiffen up like a board in a seat during any big scare. The audience screamed through the whole enjoyable and ridiculous feature. This was also the first film where Jason Voorhees would don the famous hockey mask.

Thankfully, the 3-D version was finally released on DVD — though not the Blu-Ray (I’m getting leery of this format) — so you could get the full effect of a popped eyeball flying from the screen, the single most audacious “kill” in the entire FRIDAY THE 13TH history. I’m still waiting for footage from the original ending of FRIDAY THE 13th PART 2 (1981), which had Mrs. Voorhees’ eyes open and her disembodied head smile. Even this third entry was severely edited by the MPAA due to Ebert & Siskel’s misguided crusade against slasher films of the era. But I was immediately sold on the film by its Dr. Tongue jutting credits and the anachronistic disco-groove theme song by Harry Manfredini.

Never Forget

The GOP wanted this woman to be Vice-President:

I see our motto, and I’m looking at the other coin “Where’s ‘In God We Trust’? Where did it go? It’s not, I can’t find it on the coin. She says “well look closely.” I says, “there’s our motto, our country’s motto In God We Trust,” it’s been pushed to the edge, it’s on the side now, on the edge of this coin you can’t really see it and on this coin it started wearing off.

And I think, who calls a shot like that? Who makes a decision like that and we’re Americans and we’re going to let them aware of something like that…

Happy Veteran’s Day From Max Fischer

Ennio Morricone – 100 Di Questi Giorni

Although I was devastated to learn that the Italian soundtrack maestro had to cancel last month’s appearance at the Hollywood Bowl (what would have been his first), the man has given us plenty to savor without his physical presence. What a cinematic music legacy. He’s in my Pantheon of film composers, next to John Barry, Bernard Hermann, Akira Ifukube, John Williams, Nino Rota, Jerry Goldsmith and Phillip Glass.

In honor of his 81st birthday, what better way to celebrate his eclectic output than this archetypal groovy Morricone theme to Mario Bava’s DANGER: DIABOLIK (1967), one of the great comic-book pop-art movies of the decade, starring my pal, John Phillip Law. I was once talking to John about the film and told him in awe, “You’re one of the few people on the planet who Ennio Morricone wrote a theme song for.” John just laughed in his booming Diabolik voice…Salud Maestro!