Spaghetti Western by Scott Morse

*** out of *****

Another tale from the "When You've Got Nothing Else to Lose" school of storytelling. Two modern day banditos hold up a bank and nothing goes according to plan. Morse draws each panel as if it were a film frame or storyboard, which lends itself nicely to verisimilitude of spaghetti westerns. Additionally, while reading it, I popped on the earphones and played the soundtrack to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly by Ennio Morricone. 

 

The Deep Blue Good-by by John D. MacDonald

Travis McGee, professional beach bum and retriever of lost items, helps out a bevy of abused women in this first novel of the series. An interesting novel in that it seems to be one of the first of many Florida based mystery/thrillers and also features a bad guy who wouldn't be out of place in an Energizer battery commercial.

What was an added dimension to my read though was that the book was previously owned by someone in Minneapolis, MN. I know this because they wrote their name and address on the first page. So, I got to Google Map where this person probably read the book. Kind of neat having a hot beach novel with its original home in a typically snow bound city.

Also, the previous reader marked a number of different passages throughout. For example: "And I am wary of a lot of other things, such as plastic credit cards, payroll deductions, insurance programs, retirement benefits, saving accounts, Green Stamps, time clocks, newspapers, mortgages,sermons, miracle fabrics, deodorants, check lists, time payments, political parties, lending libraries, television, actresses, junior chamber of commerce, pageants, progress, and manifest destiny." What does Travis believe in? Cash and carry, amateur psychology, and rampant moralizing.

All in all, a fun first read in a long series of novels.

Dead End by Guy N. Smith

Part of the fun of Guy N. Smith is how crazy can he make his pulpy horror. I've read a couple so far which feature giant killer crabs and bells which when rung drive everyone in the village mad. Dead End is about a guy who discovers that purgatory is on the outskirts of town and is run like an eastern bloc gulag. Not very exciting.

*  out of *****

My Name is Michael Caine

The Italian Job (1969)

Get Carter (1971)
Pulp (1972)

OK, so this is more of a placeholder posting, as I am still gathering my thoughts on these three films which are criminal in nature and one of which is criminally unfunny and another which is just grim.  Perhaps a cup of coffee to jog the ol' brain juices and then we can light into these.

Well now, I've got a bit of the arabica firing through the synapses, so let's walk through these, shall we?  Obviously, all three film feature Michael Caine as he was just coming into his stardom.  Now the film for which he was going to be most remembered for at this point prior to our films under discussion was Alfie (1966) where he played the titular character - a cocky young Brit who was obsessed with birds (girls) and shirking responsibility in the pursuit of a personal happiness.  Sixties hedonism at its finest!  It was a very clever movie that had a serious undertone, but was really all about the celebrating the joy of Alfie.  So, here comes Michael Caine afterwards, and you don't really want a rehash of what he has already done, yet you don't want to alienate the audience.  How about a fun caper flick?  And thus we got The Italian Job (1969).

Now for some reason,  a lot of people think that The Italian Job is brilliant.  The British film magazine Total Film ranks it as #27 on its list of all-time great British movies and the BFI ranks it #36 on its top 100 British films.  Frankly, I was let down by the movie.  Perhaps the first warning was when I noticed Benny Hill in the opening credits.  As it is, the film is trying very hard to be funny, but I wasn't warming to it.  I don't have a problem with my suspension of disbelief, so you can't blame me for that.  Caine tries his hardest to carry the rest of the cast he is surrounded by, but its either the timing or the delivery or something more intangible which just left me flat.  Noel Coward is also in the film as an imprisoned crime lord who is still very much in control and finances the heist of gold from Italy.  He loves queen and country almost as much as money, so he endeavors to help our young criminals pull off the heist.  Now perhaps here is where some of the love film originates because the movie is very pro-England to the extent that the heist takes place during a football match of England vs. Italy.  Rah rah, rule Britannia and all that.

In an earlier post I was commenting how great Quincy Jones' music was in The Anderson Tapes (1971).  Here we have an earlier soundtrack by him which I would not call a classic.  The song which plays over and over again, "The Self Preservation Society", is a mawkish attempt at humorous music with cockney overtones.  To top it all off, the cast was recruited to sing it.  Yech.  And even the incidental music tries too hard to inject levity.  It is a sledgehammer of a soundtrack.

What does work, to a degree, is the car chase which is the climax of the movie with all the little Mini-Coopers racing about Turin, Italy.  No doubt the film helped to sell a few extra cars as I know the remake in 2003 did.  They do some interesting bits with racing on roof tops which really made me question the safety of the stunts.  If you can do that, you are doing something right.  However, it is all a little too late to save the film for me.  A waste of Caine who does get to deliver the best line of the movie though: "You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"

In stark contrast to the listless humor of The Italian Job comes the gritty revenge thriller Get Carter (1971).  Here Caine plays Jack Carter, a London hardman who has come back up north to find out what happened to his brother.  Along the way we are slowly immersed in the criminal activities of the area: gambling, prostitution and bit of other extraneous exploitations.

What a great movie!  Caine is cool as a cucumber as he extracts the information he needs to find closure.  Impecably dressed throughout, no one can sport a shotgun quite as well.  I have been wanting to watch this one for years and I'm glad to finally be able to check it off.

One of  my first exposures, though, was to the fantastic soundtrack by Roy Budd.  There isn't a xlarge orchestra, basically just keyboards, bass and percussion, but the sounds he elicits are funky, but chilling.  One of my favorite soundtracks of all time.  Here's a bit to tease you with.

Having finished watching the film, I've now embarked upon reading the original novel, Jack's Return Home, which is so far a very similiar to the movie although with much more detail.  The way I see it is that the film is a haiku to the epic gangster poetry of the novel.  What is intriguing to me though is that the author, Ted Lewis, wrote two more books about Jack Carter.  Hmmm.  They appear to be out of print and a bit pricey, but I might just have to check those out to see where they could have gone with more movies.

Speaking of more Get Carter, I have yet to see Sylvester Stallone's turn as Carter, nor I did I realize until today that there was a blaxploitation version featuring Pam Grier called Hit Man (1972)!  Wow!

To be continued... (check back shortly)...

Role Models

When I was a young lad, I had an over abiding obsession with movies. Not that anything has really changed, mind you. Since my dad was a movie reviewer for a local TV station, we went to see almost everything that came to town as part of our weekend visits, but I really liked horror movies the most. So one day he gave me an issue of American Film which had an article in it, "Whatever Happened to Showmanship?" which lamented the lack of theatricality in selling movies to the public and which focused on one of the masters of ballyhoo, William Castle. Now, this is some neat stuff to learn about when you are 16 years old. Of course, I had seen a bunch of Castle's films already such as 13 Ghosts or The Tingler. Yet, here was an article which pulled back the curtain just a bit and showed a whole new carnival atmosphere. Plus, the author went on the talk about a variety of grindhouse/art films like Crippled Masters and Warhol's 3D sex movies. A door has been opened and new horizons beckoned on the other side.



Just as important as what was being written about was who was doing the writing: John Waters. Now at this point I admit my story gets a bit fuzzy in discovering more about him. I think the first film I watched of his was probably a year or two later when I went over to a girlfriend's house to watch either Desperate Living or Polyester. And I know that I read more of his writing in future issues of American Film and saw him on late night TV talk shows. Really, what can be said about Waters other than he was a incredible independent filmmaker who was equally interested in pushing the limits of good taste and extolling the virtues of fringe culture.

Recently, Waters has published a new book, Role Models, expressing his peculiar view of the world around him. There are a number of offbeat topics in it which are interesting and conform to the accepted stereotype of John Waters such as "Outsider Porn" where we meet two edgy gay pornographers. Or "The Kindness of Strangers" which is about Tennessee Williams and the influence he had on the author. Or the obsession he has for Johnny Mathis which is the lead off piece in the book entitled "Johnny and Me".



But what is most striking is the subtle changes in John Waters as an outre human. Earlier in his life, he bragged about having a John Wayne Gacy painting. He also boasted about all the high profile trials he has attended for Patty Hearst (who now has bit parts in his films) and the Manson family. He claims in Shock Value (1981) that the Tate/LoBianca murders were the crime of the century, but he approaches it back then like a subversive theater act. Now, in Role Models (2010), he goes on at length about the friendship he has developed with on of the former Manson family members, Leslie Van Houten and how she has been denied parole over the years. You know, he might have a case as he presents it, but I'm dumbfounded by the seriousness of the piece. It is a tone which which he strikes a few times, as if he has suddenly realized the impact of some of this earlier outrageousness.

Later, in "Baltimore Heroes", we are told of a lesbian stripper and a female barkeep who would only serve the homeless. Ok, this feels like Waters territory now, you are thinking, and you are right to a point. We never get to meet this people because they are already dead. Waters is dealing with them through his own recollections and through the memories of their children. That is the crucial turn. How were these people affected by the environments in which they grew up. While they all seem to have come through OK, you can't help but ponder the instability in which they were fostered.



Even when Waters begins to talk more about culture, we are presented with a more gentrified version of the hipster salvage store concept we had known to grow and love. Talking about fashion, we meet Rei Kawakubo, an extremist designer who builds clothes with flaws in them. But sells them for thousands of dollars. This ain't no dig store where you crawl around on the ground looking for treasures! And even the art work has progressed beyond serial killers and pornography. Now we have "Roommates" like Cy Twombly, Fischli/Weiss, and Moyra Davey. Hmmm. Interesting stuff, but hardly shocking. On a side note, isn't it interesting how some famous people collect art? Dennis Hopper had a renowned collection. Vincent Price used to give talks on art. Even Steve Martin has raised his nose high and proclaimed that even a jerk can like art. Too much money? Giving back to the little people? A true appreciation for craft?





In the end, Role Models is not the same John Waters we fell in love with thirty years ago, nor should he be. Mellowed like a good wine. Yet, when what you expect is a spicy complexity which sometimes ends in sharp gag reflex, this is a bit too dry and one note. Or has the rest of the world just caught up to him?

True Grit

Back during the Christmas season I had the pleasure of going to see the Coen Brothers version of True Grit starring Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon. It was fantastic! The elements of casting, scriptwriting, cinematography and music all blended together perfectly. Of course this is a new adaptation of the novel by Charles Portis which had been filmed previously with John Wayne and Glen Campbell. It has been a long time since I have seen that version and in fact I remember the Mad Magazine version of it much more clearly.

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About a year ago, when the Coens announced that they were going to cast an unknown girl in the lead part of Mattie, sales of the book started to take off. All the future movie parents wanted their child to read the book in order to get a grip on the part. Well, that's cool because you should not base your audition off the performance by someone else. Plus, in hindsight, the Coens were really trying to stay true to Portis's words so all the better to have the words in mind.

So, now that the film is out, people have been picking up the book again in droves. Having enjoyed the film and knowing that many consider the novel incredibly well written, I decided to take the plunge. It was, in fact, very good with all the wittiness of the dialogue originating in the book. Yet, there were subtle differences and the natural ability to elongate passages which are more character building than action oriented. Some changes were subtle, like the fact that LaBeouf stays with Rooster and Mattie the entire time, whilst in the new film he does go off a couple of times in disgust. The biggest change is to the development of Rooster with much more backstory elucidated. I have to agree, though, with the one reviewer who said that Bridges' performance of Rooster was akin to a proto-Lebowski. Both are just kind of drifters in the river of life who just want to chill and do their own thing. Except one of them is a bit more violent than the other.

Suffice it to say, if you have a couple of extra hours and need something different to read, True Grit would make a fine selection. Now I need to pick up a copy of The Searchers!

Zombie Spaceship Wasteland

This is a book written by "one of us". The "us" being those kids raised in the 70's and coming to age during the 80's, who weren't the cool kids or the jock kids or whatever else kids. "Us" is synonymous with the latter part of the TV show name Freaks and Geeks. Patton Oswalt is definitely one of "us" and his book, Zombie Spaceship Wasteland, is one part memoir mixed with one part humourous essays. And while the humorous essays are fun, like "Those Old Hobo Songs, They Still Speak to Us",the real reason to read this is to navel gaze whilst standing in front of the full length fun house mirror that reflects back Patton.

The boiled down version of Patton Oswalt that is presented here is from the perspective of an early 40's male who grew up in suburban Virginia, just far enough away from Washington DC to know there was a scene there, but not close enough to be part of it. His world, instead, was filled with Dungeons & Dragons, science fiction, horror movies on VHS, stacks of comic books, and movie theaters. This was the primordial pit from which he rose, as have many of us. The stories he relates are witty and poignant and reflective, both of himself and his audience. As a comedian, Patton knows who his audience is and he delivers the goods in full with nary a misstep.

Three pieces stand out in forefront for me for varying reasons, the first of which, "Ticket Booth", is where young Patton gets a job at the local three screen movie theater. Now while the people in his story differ from my own experiences, the actions they took are very similar what with the late night drinking and the the half tickets routine. Oh, the stories I could tell! Suffice to say, I was not present for all the sordid evenings, but there were my own fair share. Anyway, working at a movie theater is a different experience and Patton captures it beautifully. A treasured time for him (and me), but one which we would both say we are better off for having escaped.

The second piece which stands out is "We're Playing Snow Fort" wherein a 10-year-old Patton is describing the cool ass snow fort he and his friend built. They're stock piling snowballs and digging out tunnels and getting ready to throwdown in the mother of all snow wars! Unfortunately the other kids have turned into robots and don't want to play and the cool dad is too busy going into the mean lady's house. It is all laced with a subtle melancholy from an adult perspective. Perhaps the best piece in the book, yet with the fewest laughs.

The third piece, "Zombie Spaceship Wasteland", is meant to sum up the psychological view point of us young geeks and how each of those archtypes affect what kind of stories/lives we want. Kind of a ground zero of geekdom and fun food for thought.

The only issue with the book is that while there is a coherent theme upon the nature of adolescence and growing up, there isn't a grand thread that takes you through. These are just short essays, very well written mind you, but they never reach a summing up or climatic realization. Which is ok as we are still all so just nearly departed upon our journeys. The grand statements are still to come and this was a nice warm up act.

Yellowing Pages

The Road - Cormac McCarthy

Mighty grim, end of the world stuff with a father and son wandering across an unnamed countryside after an unmentioned apocalypse. Pretty powerful death poetry.




The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde

A very Douglas Adams-ish mystery/adventure with detective Thursday Next hunting down the master villian Acheron Hades, who wants to kill characters in famous novels by entering into the texts, dragging the characters out into reality and dispensing of them, thereby eliminating them from all extant copies. Throw in some time travel, an evolving discussion of who actually wrote Shakespeare's plays, and lots of name/title dropping and you have a pretty fun, light read.





The Jugger - Richard Stark

Parker goes to Kansas to find out what happened to an old safe cracker who seems to have spilled the beans on who and what his criminal buddies have been up to. A nice switch up with there being no "heist", only the extraction of information from a bunch of dubious characters. Later made into a film, Made in the U.S.A. by Jean Luc Godard.