How far have we come in 40 years? What makes a good remake? Can you call someone being ripped apart by four horses going in four different directions entertainment?
Herschell Gordon Lewis' gore films aren't particularly good, but they're great examples of exactly what it says on the tin. If you know his name, you know what to expect.
Brought to my attention as one of the so-called worst directors of all time by the Medveds in The Golden Turkey Awards, then given tantalising glimpses of his actual films (along with those of Russ Meyer and John Waters) by Jonathan Ross in his Channel 4 series The Incredibly Strange Film Show, I didn't think I'd ever get to see any of his pictures, but the video and then DVD revolution changed things completely.
I sat through dodgy tapes of the pioneering Blood Feast, followed by The Wizard Of Gore and The Gore-Gore Girls. I later obtained official 18 certificate vids of She-Devils On Wheels and 2,000 Maniacs - the latter being completely shorn of what I expected to see - so last night's screening of the DVD was the first time I'd seen the thing in its entirety.
Terrible sound and unconvincing acting couldn't detract from the prurient tension in awaiting the gore scenes. And the whole thing had a kind of terrible inevitability about it, the ending even adding a delightful supernatural touch (and Brigadoon comparisons). The blood letting seems rather odd - tame by today's standards but, taking into account when it was made, at the same time excessive. Made in 1964, reticent about the race angle (apart from possibly the children's little string nooses), the Southern resentment of the North put into perspective by the Civil War backstory. Ill-executed (sorry) but somehow more interesting than you'd think.
In fact, probably a better film to remake than the so-called classics, be they Frankenstein and Dracula, or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Hallowe'en or A Nightmare On Elm Street.
A bad start for 2001 Maniacs, foregrounding the War Between The States during the credits, and then into the inevitable college kids stupidity. Still, it'll be enjoyable watching these dickheads get theirs, more so than the innocuous twenty-somethings of the original.
Once our Spring Breakers head into Pleasant Valley, things begin to pick up - Deliverance has been mentioned, there were a couple of nods to TCM, and then there's Mayor Buckland (played by a hamming Robert Englund) complete with Stars and Bars eyepatch. There's the expected profanity and sex absent from the previous entry, and race issues are brought up, albeit in a kind of deliberately politically incorrect way,
Despite the modernity, even 2001 can't help dragging a bit in places, but it's a lot of fun, acknowledging HGL's work and taking it further. Heck, there's even a Gone With The Wind reference.
The two films compliment one another - one's enjoyment of 2001 enhanced by knowledge of 2000. Some of the later film actually makes the earlier one look better.
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
Bollock Brothers - Mythology
Another load of old testes from Jock MacDonald. There’s something about them that fascinates. Perhaps it’s because, as the Trouser Press reviewer states, there’s no-one else quite like them, and they’re not easily categorised – apart from those who’d label them ‘crap’ which seems to be all but a few.
To set the scene –
The news that the Bollock Brothers (or is it those two French DJs?) are playing in London this Friday (June 11th 2010) got me to thinking about them and the 4 Be 2s. First heard of Jock MacDonald in connection with trying to organise 1,000 punk a side football matches and tug o’wars as the 1970s faded into the 1980s , and later as a purveyor of dodgy vinyl Pistols bootlegs such as Anarchy In The UK and Never Trust A Hippy.
Someone pointed me in the direction of the 4 Be 2s first single (One Of The Lads) a bizarre dub rock effort which was catchy (though I couldn’t really take to the B side (UmmBaba). The picture cover featured blokes wearing horror masks and military uniforms. My guide pointed out that one was Jimmy Lydon (John’s brother) who had a penchant for German WWII memorabilia and you could see his dodgy eye behind the mask, as someone had whacked him for wearing an Iron Cross (Don’t know if that was true). Their second single Frustration was a brilliant ska style singalong about being gaoled for murdering your girlfriend. The B Side was equally brilliant – a cover of The Who’s I Can’t Explain which sounded like Bowie’s version from Pin-Ups – but speeded up and on steroids. Their final effort was an instrumental reworking of their first single this time called All Of The Lads in aid of youngsters killed in a disco fire in Dublin. The B-side featured a dreadful mysogynist dirge called Bitch, and another cheery ska hopalong called Jimmy Jones about the nutter who got all those folk over to Guyana then had them commit mass suicide by drinking poisoned Kool-Aid.
Saw them at the Lyceum supported by other North London stalwarts Infa-Riot and The Dark. (and Chelsea). Just remember Jock (?) calling for a minutes silence for the perished youth of Dublin, mass audience speculation as to whether one of the many figures in shadow back stage was John Lydon, and hordes of pogoing and congaing Arsenal skins as Jimmy (in a bright green suit) led the festivities. Mind you, being a devout coward I left early as there were loads of less than happy West Ham skins up the back.
I know they played a St Patrick’s Day hooley at the Rainbow, supported by The Bollock Brothers and Pope Paul & The Romans.
The BBs recorded career seems long & dubious. I bought The Bunker and wasn’t surprised that it didn’t feature in the Anthony Hopkins as Adolf Hitler TV movie. I bought The Act Became Real (about Ronnie Reagan) but it didn’t seem to be much of an improvement. They did their version of NMTB with Palace Prowler Michael Fagan – I saw them at The Marquee – masses of tourists going bananas to the Pistols songs. A review in Sounds consisted solely of Jack Barron phoning the Marquee for a free ticket then playing Space Invaders. Journalists, eh? They then seemed to latch onto the Batcave thing and pretend to be Goths – using Horror Film imagery on their 12 inchers. The B Side of The Slow Removal Of Vincent Van Gogh’s Left Ear featured ‘Paul Gadd Jr’ singing Rock ‘N’ Roll. Bizarrely they seemd very popular in Europe. I was surprised to find The Last Supper on CD in Germany.
We’ll Be There (by Rabbie Burns & The Ticket Touts – a refusal to accept the blanket ban on Scotsmen at Wembley after they trashed the place in ‘75) as the cover featured Jock and a bemused Lydon – the latter to the outrage of the English music press. Other one-offs included the now outdated Why Won’t Rangers Sign A Catholic Centre Forward (a collection of pro-Celtic, anti-Rangers chants set to punk thud ‘n’ blunder with a synth burbling over the top) by Pope Paul & The Romans, and a (Chelsea supporting) acquaintance of mine owned Good Old Arsenal by The Sex Bristols. (a retread of Frustration, encompassing pro-Arsenal, anti-Tottenham chants – which I believe led to Messrs Lydon and McDonald being prosecuted for something like incitement to racial hatred, and Jock appearing in the witness box to explain that a certain three letter word beginning with Y wasn’t a racial slur on Jews but an expression for a follower of Tottenham Hotspur.)
Ever read Johnny Rogan’s examination of The Smiths – Morrissey & Marr : The Severed Alliance? It mentions Morrissey fronting the Nosebleeds (bet he was no Ed Banger) and supporting the BBs in Belgium (surely the nadir of his musical career?)
Also check out Prince Charming – one of those cheap paperbacks rushed out the celebrate the fleeting fame of pop stars (the only other people who seem to merit this cut and paste storytelling are serial killers) in this case Adam Ant. It documents the bizarre episode of Top Of The Pops where, the audience contained many sprightly young men in “I’ve Been Hit By A 4” Be 2” “ t-shirts (I had one!) attempting to hog the camera, and the tabloid aftermath on the morrow, where Adam (and at least one Ant) had been assaulted by these yobs.
So. Mythology
GDM – Jock prowls the streets of London and beyond, looking for handsome young men to lure between his sheets. Apparently an answer to the German electro-pop tune No GDM by Gina X, itself a reference to Quentin Crisp and no Great Dark Man (according to what I googled.)
Spooky
Beats Of Love
GDM, Spooky and Beats of Love are all Euro-Disco stuff, and not the BBs I really get on with.
Dinner With Dracula – this is more like it! The familiar sub-Pistols drone, overlapped with thunder, tolling bells, what sounds like voice-over merchant Bill Mitchell impersonating Bela Lugosi (rather badly), Hammer music and then a description of the approach to Castle Dracula – by a distorted voice. If I can find my old Hammer/Christopher Lee Dracula LP I’ll have to check if that’s where the BBs nicked it from. Their single (under the Red Lipstique alias?) Return Of The Vampyre is alleged to feature Sir Chris
My Fair Daughter – Jock’s daughter reciting London Bridge Is Falling Down for 20 seconds. Oh dear. Possibly a parody of The Clash or Psychic TV.
Monster Mash – a rather leaden cover of Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett’s classic made infinitely worse by seguing into the original at the end.
Wiped Out – More sub-Pistols posturing, through the Surfaris Wipe Out – sadly misses the drumming , but a good grind nonetheless.
For Your Blood – Another crappy pseudo-Goth Disco cover, this time of For Your Love by The Yardbirds. It’s preferable to the first three, but not by much.
Wilde Mythology – now, along with Dinner With Dracula, this is a good one. Jock and a EuroLady sing the praises of Oscar (or possibly Oskar) Wilde and his search for beauty.
Legend Piano Mix – someone playing the piano quite well.
Slim pickings here unfortunately, but three of ‘em are worth what I paid for it.
To set the scene –
The news that the Bollock Brothers (or is it those two French DJs?) are playing in London this Friday (June 11th 2010) got me to thinking about them and the 4 Be 2s. First heard of Jock MacDonald in connection with trying to organise 1,000 punk a side football matches and tug o’wars as the 1970s faded into the 1980s , and later as a purveyor of dodgy vinyl Pistols bootlegs such as Anarchy In The UK and Never Trust A Hippy.
Someone pointed me in the direction of the 4 Be 2s first single (One Of The Lads) a bizarre dub rock effort which was catchy (though I couldn’t really take to the B side (UmmBaba). The picture cover featured blokes wearing horror masks and military uniforms. My guide pointed out that one was Jimmy Lydon (John’s brother) who had a penchant for German WWII memorabilia and you could see his dodgy eye behind the mask, as someone had whacked him for wearing an Iron Cross (Don’t know if that was true). Their second single Frustration was a brilliant ska style singalong about being gaoled for murdering your girlfriend. The B Side was equally brilliant – a cover of The Who’s I Can’t Explain which sounded like Bowie’s version from Pin-Ups – but speeded up and on steroids. Their final effort was an instrumental reworking of their first single this time called All Of The Lads in aid of youngsters killed in a disco fire in Dublin. The B-side featured a dreadful mysogynist dirge called Bitch, and another cheery ska hopalong called Jimmy Jones about the nutter who got all those folk over to Guyana then had them commit mass suicide by drinking poisoned Kool-Aid.
Saw them at the Lyceum supported by other North London stalwarts Infa-Riot and The Dark. (and Chelsea). Just remember Jock (?) calling for a minutes silence for the perished youth of Dublin, mass audience speculation as to whether one of the many figures in shadow back stage was John Lydon, and hordes of pogoing and congaing Arsenal skins as Jimmy (in a bright green suit) led the festivities. Mind you, being a devout coward I left early as there were loads of less than happy West Ham skins up the back.
I know they played a St Patrick’s Day hooley at the Rainbow, supported by The Bollock Brothers and Pope Paul & The Romans.
The BBs recorded career seems long & dubious. I bought The Bunker and wasn’t surprised that it didn’t feature in the Anthony Hopkins as Adolf Hitler TV movie. I bought The Act Became Real (about Ronnie Reagan) but it didn’t seem to be much of an improvement. They did their version of NMTB with Palace Prowler Michael Fagan – I saw them at The Marquee – masses of tourists going bananas to the Pistols songs. A review in Sounds consisted solely of Jack Barron phoning the Marquee for a free ticket then playing Space Invaders. Journalists, eh? They then seemed to latch onto the Batcave thing and pretend to be Goths – using Horror Film imagery on their 12 inchers. The B Side of The Slow Removal Of Vincent Van Gogh’s Left Ear featured ‘Paul Gadd Jr’ singing Rock ‘N’ Roll. Bizarrely they seemd very popular in Europe. I was surprised to find The Last Supper on CD in Germany.
We’ll Be There (by Rabbie Burns & The Ticket Touts – a refusal to accept the blanket ban on Scotsmen at Wembley after they trashed the place in ‘75) as the cover featured Jock and a bemused Lydon – the latter to the outrage of the English music press. Other one-offs included the now outdated Why Won’t Rangers Sign A Catholic Centre Forward (a collection of pro-Celtic, anti-Rangers chants set to punk thud ‘n’ blunder with a synth burbling over the top) by Pope Paul & The Romans, and a (Chelsea supporting) acquaintance of mine owned Good Old Arsenal by The Sex Bristols. (a retread of Frustration, encompassing pro-Arsenal, anti-Tottenham chants – which I believe led to Messrs Lydon and McDonald being prosecuted for something like incitement to racial hatred, and Jock appearing in the witness box to explain that a certain three letter word beginning with Y wasn’t a racial slur on Jews but an expression for a follower of Tottenham Hotspur.)
Ever read Johnny Rogan’s examination of The Smiths – Morrissey & Marr : The Severed Alliance? It mentions Morrissey fronting the Nosebleeds (bet he was no Ed Banger) and supporting the BBs in Belgium (surely the nadir of his musical career?)
Also check out Prince Charming – one of those cheap paperbacks rushed out the celebrate the fleeting fame of pop stars (the only other people who seem to merit this cut and paste storytelling are serial killers) in this case Adam Ant. It documents the bizarre episode of Top Of The Pops where, the audience contained many sprightly young men in “I’ve Been Hit By A 4” Be 2” “ t-shirts (I had one!) attempting to hog the camera, and the tabloid aftermath on the morrow, where Adam (and at least one Ant) had been assaulted by these yobs.
So. Mythology
GDM – Jock prowls the streets of London and beyond, looking for handsome young men to lure between his sheets. Apparently an answer to the German electro-pop tune No GDM by Gina X, itself a reference to Quentin Crisp and no Great Dark Man (according to what I googled.)
Spooky
Beats Of Love
GDM, Spooky and Beats of Love are all Euro-Disco stuff, and not the BBs I really get on with.
Dinner With Dracula – this is more like it! The familiar sub-Pistols drone, overlapped with thunder, tolling bells, what sounds like voice-over merchant Bill Mitchell impersonating Bela Lugosi (rather badly), Hammer music and then a description of the approach to Castle Dracula – by a distorted voice. If I can find my old Hammer/Christopher Lee Dracula LP I’ll have to check if that’s where the BBs nicked it from. Their single (under the Red Lipstique alias?) Return Of The Vampyre is alleged to feature Sir Chris
My Fair Daughter – Jock’s daughter reciting London Bridge Is Falling Down for 20 seconds. Oh dear. Possibly a parody of The Clash or Psychic TV.
Monster Mash – a rather leaden cover of Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett’s classic made infinitely worse by seguing into the original at the end.
Wiped Out – More sub-Pistols posturing, through the Surfaris Wipe Out – sadly misses the drumming , but a good grind nonetheless.
For Your Blood – Another crappy pseudo-Goth Disco cover, this time of For Your Love by The Yardbirds. It’s preferable to the first three, but not by much.
Wilde Mythology – now, along with Dinner With Dracula, this is a good one. Jock and a EuroLady sing the praises of Oscar (or possibly Oskar) Wilde and his search for beauty.
Legend Piano Mix – someone playing the piano quite well.
Slim pickings here unfortunately, but three of ‘em are worth what I paid for it.
Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction - Hoodlum Thunder
Thinking of Alice Cooper always puts me in mind of Zodiac and his cohorts. The first time I saw Alice live (The Nightmare Returns, Wembley Arena ’86?), Zod was supposed to be supporting. Brother and I built them up to our two fellow gig-goers as something stupendous, and one of these lads was horrified when Dr And The Medics took to the stage, the good Doctor explaining that ‘Mark’ (aka Zodiac, like Alice is ‘Vince’) had fallen off stage the night before so they were standing in. Weirdly, over 20 years later, the last time I saw Alice live (a couple of Hallowe’ens ago at the Roundhouse), Zodiac did turn up.
As I said at the time ‘four men walk to the front of the stage, hands on hearts as Matt Monro warbling Born Free blares from the sound system. Two are young, thin, long-haired; the other two are fat and old. I hadn't seen Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction since the Marquee was in Charing Cross Road but here they were, back with a vengeance and half of them larger than ever (shurley life?). The two new boys drummer The Cat aka The Sexiest Man In The World and bassist Head Boy (?) were good but it was grizzled veterans the silly Zod himself and geetarist Cobalt Stargazer (soon to revealed as Co-bald Stargazer ) who inevitably stole the show. They kicked off with Live Dangerously But Not Pretty, but the next two numbers (High Priest Of Love and Backseat Education) really let the good times roll. Top stuff - funny, moving, ridiculous. They did the one that got 'em in the charts, on TOTP, and into my heart : Prime Mover.’
Zodiac and Alice co-wrote Feed My Frankenstein (which both outfits recorded in their own way) too.
Which leads us to the fact that, after rejuvenating my adrenalin levels with Alice’s Constrictor, I pulled Zodiac’s second album from the shelves, and put it onto the cranked up sound system. Wow! I thought it didn’t quite recapture the power, speed and grandeur of their debut (Tattooed Beat Messiah) it’s been so long since I listened to this stuff, that I was delighted to be completely blown away.
Elvis Died For You – “Whether you’re black or white, young or old, country redneck or freak….Elvis Presley will still be the King Of Rock ’N’ Roll’ says the opening, presumably sampled from some interview from ’77, and we’re off with the Love Reaction storming through a perverse tribute to Elvis. Mention of Roberto Duran, F1-11 fighters and lines like ‘Poetry howls like Ginsberg’ never fail to excite.
Tomorrow Belongs To The Love Reaction – it should have done. Anthemic celebration, with menacing spoken word section. 2 out of 2.
Feed My Frankenstein – there you go!
Trash Madonna – must we fling this filth at our pop kids? Disgraceful pornography with a good beat – ‘Bend over, Windsor’ growled Zod at the Old Trout Psychedelic Dancehall. Them were the days.
Airline Highway – it’s not all sleaze and cartoon pulp imagery, as the band lay into corrupt TV evangelists.
Chainsaw – the kind of woman only Zodiac could create.
President Of The United States Of Love – fantastic! If this doesn’t have you punching the air (and thinking of Bill Clinton), you’re dead.
Dr Jekyll And Me – a walk on the dark side (but still tongue in cheek)
Hoodlum Thunder – apart from Prime Mover, possibly the greatest song ever from these buzzards, and this is serious, I think. A seething rage against the atomic bomb and those who would use it. If Oppenheimer did say ‘Thank God it wasn’t a dud’ when The Bomb hit Hiroshima, which God was he thanking?
Meanstreak – the gloriously slow comedown – Zod’s own Sympathy For The Devil.
Alice Cooper - Constrictor
I’ve always meant to pick up this album, and the fact that it arrived yesterday wrenched me from a slough of despond. Like David Bowie, Alice has always been a bit of a chameleon, adapting his sound to suit the times. Not always successfully, but then he’s never rested on his laurels, and always proved willing to take a chance.
After problems with the booze and (allegedly) recording around three albums he couldn’t remember recording, the Nightmare returned with this stonking set of 80s blaring feelgood metaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal. I was fortunate enough to see him live for the first time during this comeback, and he lived up to every expectation
Teenage Frankenstein – Rock ‘n’ roll! I think this was the one where he built up some boxes on stage and …they came to life! Terrific evocation of the awkwardness of those difficult years.
Give It Up – Slating the life of the normal (even if I’m living it) is always a tonic, and this is so rousing
Thrill My Gorilla – the very title of this song propels this album into classic status.
Life And Death Of The Party – Phew! After three jet-propelled rockers, it’s time to stand back a little and reflect, with a dash of the old morbid Alice.
Simple Disobedience - Indeed
The World Needs Guts – back to blasting, stand-up-for-yourself rawk– greatness.
Trick Bag – still fun, but lacking some the sheer verve of its predecessors.
The Great American Success Story – Yippee! Apparently an unwanted or discarded theme for Rodney Dangerfield’s film Back To School, it’s great.
He’s Back (The Man Behind The Mask) – What a way to finish! Synth heavy, but with a bit o’ geetar in the middle, this is AC stalking the graveyard once again. F13 VI was top stuff, with Jason shedding the serial killer mantle to become supernatural, resurrected by lightning in the middle of a rainstorm. The film also featured a Karloff’s General Store ISTR. Crikey, Dokken churned out a theme for A Nightmare On Elm St III (and Alice (or at least his voice) actually turned up in ANOES IV – with Iggy singing the theme), the Ramones gave us Pet Semetary and The Dickies Killer Klowns From Outer Space. This is what we want.
David Case - The Hunter
The Pan Books Of Horror were a rite of passage for my generation, similar to the next generation and video nasties. We had to read and use our imaginations.
The Twelfth Pan Book Of Horror (with a cover featuring a skeleton emerging from ice) featured a long short story (sic) called The Hunter. In fact, it takes up about half the book. It's a wonderfully English tale set on Bodmin Moor so I was very surprised to find out that David Case was American.
You wouldn't know it from the story, apart from a God-Damn and an I guess.
A penny-pinching hiker is perambulating across Bodmin Moor when he discovers a body, brutally savaged - and headless.
Cut to Wetherby in The Venturers Club, both a little past their prime. Our man has retired from big-game hunting and the club is now open to long-haired youngsters who don’t share the same passion for the hunt or exploration as the original members.
His quiet evening is interrupted by the arrival of old member Justin Bell. Bell is a no-nonsense copper whose membership only just got though on the basis of (or despite) his job.
Bell clues Wetherby in on the savage killing in Bodmin. The police are baffled (?!) and Bell thinks his old friend’s skills will help. Coincidentally, there’s another Venturer, the enigmatic Byron, who lives nearby. He has declined to assist the Old Bill.
Wetherby, enthused by the chance to reignite his old way of life, and intrigued (though not surprised) by Byron’s refusal to help, agrees to assist – and they have to set off earlier than expected because there’s been another savage killing.
A commercial traveller had run out of petrol not far from the scene of the first killing, and upon leaving his car in the pouring rain, met with a bloody end and the loss of his head. I like what Case did with this character, a reversal of the usual commercial traveller arc.
Wetherby and Bell investigate. It seems that the creature walks bipedally towards its intended victim, charges on all fours to the kill, slashes away with savage claws…but how does it decapitate the target so cleanly….and what about tracks away from the corpse….?
A journalist shows up, fomenting disdain amongst the investigators (Case does a good job of humanising him) and, knowing the sort of hysterical headline his editor wants, begins to suggest lycanthropy. Anyone familiar some of Case’s other work (The Cell, Among The Wolves) will know that this may not be too far from expectations.
We have a pub called The King’s Torso with irascible landlord, a scene that really frightened me as a nipper – the discovery of the third victim, and Wetherby’s realisation that perhaps it’s been too long, and his idea of patrolling the moor alone at night to draw out the beast was not such a good idea.
It’s a cracking tale, full of nostalgic goodness for me. Probably unworkable these days due to mobile phones, although the remoteness of the moor might bugger up signals.
Byron, with his peculiar philosophy of what living means, meanders through the story, highlighting Wetherby’s decline and normality, and giving off an aura of Nietzschean superpower.
The ending is somewhat anticlimactic but it’s a great journey.
I’ve managed to track down a US TV movie based upon the story, called Scream Of The Wolf. It doesn’t seem to be highly thought of, despite the involvement of Dan Curtis and Richard Matheson. We shall see.
The Twelfth Pan Book Of Horror (with a cover featuring a skeleton emerging from ice) featured a long short story (sic) called The Hunter. In fact, it takes up about half the book. It's a wonderfully English tale set on Bodmin Moor so I was very surprised to find out that David Case was American.
You wouldn't know it from the story, apart from a God-Damn and an I guess.
A penny-pinching hiker is perambulating across Bodmin Moor when he discovers a body, brutally savaged - and headless.
Cut to Wetherby in The Venturers Club, both a little past their prime. Our man has retired from big-game hunting and the club is now open to long-haired youngsters who don’t share the same passion for the hunt or exploration as the original members.
His quiet evening is interrupted by the arrival of old member Justin Bell. Bell is a no-nonsense copper whose membership only just got though on the basis of (or despite) his job.
Bell clues Wetherby in on the savage killing in Bodmin. The police are baffled (?!) and Bell thinks his old friend’s skills will help. Coincidentally, there’s another Venturer, the enigmatic Byron, who lives nearby. He has declined to assist the Old Bill.
Wetherby, enthused by the chance to reignite his old way of life, and intrigued (though not surprised) by Byron’s refusal to help, agrees to assist – and they have to set off earlier than expected because there’s been another savage killing.
A commercial traveller had run out of petrol not far from the scene of the first killing, and upon leaving his car in the pouring rain, met with a bloody end and the loss of his head. I like what Case did with this character, a reversal of the usual commercial traveller arc.
Wetherby and Bell investigate. It seems that the creature walks bipedally towards its intended victim, charges on all fours to the kill, slashes away with savage claws…but how does it decapitate the target so cleanly….and what about tracks away from the corpse….?
A journalist shows up, fomenting disdain amongst the investigators (Case does a good job of humanising him) and, knowing the sort of hysterical headline his editor wants, begins to suggest lycanthropy. Anyone familiar some of Case’s other work (The Cell, Among The Wolves) will know that this may not be too far from expectations.
We have a pub called The King’s Torso with irascible landlord, a scene that really frightened me as a nipper – the discovery of the third victim, and Wetherby’s realisation that perhaps it’s been too long, and his idea of patrolling the moor alone at night to draw out the beast was not such a good idea.
It’s a cracking tale, full of nostalgic goodness for me. Probably unworkable these days due to mobile phones, although the remoteness of the moor might bugger up signals.
Byron, with his peculiar philosophy of what living means, meanders through the story, highlighting Wetherby’s decline and normality, and giving off an aura of Nietzschean superpower.
The ending is somewhat anticlimactic but it’s a great journey.
I’ve managed to track down a US TV movie based upon the story, called Scream Of The Wolf. It doesn’t seem to be highly thought of, despite the involvement of Dan Curtis and Richard Matheson. We shall see.
Friday, 7 March 2014
Before Dawn - Paddy From Emmerdale's Zombie Tale
Before Dawn
I mentioned at the end of the waffle about Disciple Of Death – could a crackpot vanity project like that get made these days? Well, not sure about the crackpot, but yes, a similar sort of thing is possible.
When my Mrs used to watch Emmerdale I always used to like the characters Paddy and Marlon. They had a hapless, it’s-all-going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket kind of outlook that wasn’t a million miles from mine. Turns out that actors Dominic Brunt and Mark Charnock (who I shall continue to refer to as Paddy and Marlon because that’s how I think of them) are big fans of horror films especially those featuring zombies – so much so that they organise an annual Zombie Film Festival in Leeds.
Paddy has taken this a step further by actually making one. His actress wife is none too keen on the gut-munching aspect of these films, so became involved in trying to …er…flesh out the story.
So….with a micro-budget and the assistance of the Emmerdale bosses re time off etc., the intrepid Pads and Mrs P have fashioned a curious little tale of the disintegration of a marriage with a couple of zombies thrown in.
With her mum (who hates him) looking after the kids, the couple get away from it all in a remote Yorkshire cottage. Signs that all is not well are picked up along their journey, but they’re for the audience’s benefit. It’s soon clear that, as far as she’s concerned, it’s all over but he has a desperate hope that’s there’s till something.
She awakens refreshed after a night’s sleep, while he’s struggling downstairs after a night on the sofa and the booze. She’s off for a run, whilst he prepares a conciliatory fry-up. And then the fun starts…
Well, it does if you’re keen on zombies. The film is so resolutely small scale it seems almost trivial, but there’s that nagging thought that this could be going on somewhere in the country. It doesn’t really hang together as a whole, but has some effective moments (mostly in the build-up , and the first zombie appearance) and I’m pleased for Paddy that he got to do it.
If you find the zombie groanings intensely irritating, they’re provided by Paddy and Marlon (and someone called Tony Earnshaw).
I have to take whoever designed the DVD cover to task as well – I hope no-one pickes this up expecting a ruined city, a shotgun and 30,000 zombies. There’s an isolated cottage, some kitchen utensils and a crowbar, and six undead
I mentioned at the end of the waffle about Disciple Of Death – could a crackpot vanity project like that get made these days? Well, not sure about the crackpot, but yes, a similar sort of thing is possible.
When my Mrs used to watch Emmerdale I always used to like the characters Paddy and Marlon. They had a hapless, it’s-all-going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket kind of outlook that wasn’t a million miles from mine. Turns out that actors Dominic Brunt and Mark Charnock (who I shall continue to refer to as Paddy and Marlon because that’s how I think of them) are big fans of horror films especially those featuring zombies – so much so that they organise an annual Zombie Film Festival in Leeds.
Paddy has taken this a step further by actually making one. His actress wife is none too keen on the gut-munching aspect of these films, so became involved in trying to …er…flesh out the story.
So….with a micro-budget and the assistance of the Emmerdale bosses re time off etc., the intrepid Pads and Mrs P have fashioned a curious little tale of the disintegration of a marriage with a couple of zombies thrown in.
With her mum (who hates him) looking after the kids, the couple get away from it all in a remote Yorkshire cottage. Signs that all is not well are picked up along their journey, but they’re for the audience’s benefit. It’s soon clear that, as far as she’s concerned, it’s all over but he has a desperate hope that’s there’s till something.
She awakens refreshed after a night’s sleep, while he’s struggling downstairs after a night on the sofa and the booze. She’s off for a run, whilst he prepares a conciliatory fry-up. And then the fun starts…
Well, it does if you’re keen on zombies. The film is so resolutely small scale it seems almost trivial, but there’s that nagging thought that this could be going on somewhere in the country. It doesn’t really hang together as a whole, but has some effective moments (mostly in the build-up , and the first zombie appearance) and I’m pleased for Paddy that he got to do it.
If you find the zombie groanings intensely irritating, they’re provided by Paddy and Marlon (and someone called Tony Earnshaw).
I have to take whoever designed the DVD cover to task as well – I hope no-one pickes this up expecting a ruined city, a shotgun and 30,000 zombies. There’s an isolated cottage, some kitchen utensils and a crowbar, and six undead
Mike Raven - Disciple Of Death
Austin Churton Fairman – crazy name, crazy guy. Better known to hordes of little boys who became enamoured of Horror Films, especially British ones, from the Golden Age of 1955 – 1976 (roughly spanning Hammer’s horror output from The Quatermass Xperiment to To The Devil- A Daughter – or some might chart it from The Curse Of Frankenstein (1956-7) to Pete Walker’s rise circa 1974) as Mike Raven. Good old Mike. He was a bit of a figure of fun, as a wannabe horror star who couldn’t quite make it. Check out it his Wikipedia entry if you’re unfamiliar with him, because he led quite an extraordinary life.
His British Horror credentials rest on four films –
I, Monster. It’s an Amicus film featuring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing in a slight variation on Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde, so that’s pretty good stuff from the off. Mike doesn’t have a lot to do apart from chat to Peter Cushing.
Lust For A Vampire – a Hammer Film – so Mike’s still in the big league. This sequel to The Vampire Lovers extrapolates the further adventures of Carmilla (now Mircalla) Karnstein. Mike’s role as a kind of demonic supervisor is rather undefined, and he’s further hampered by having his voice dubbed by Valentine Dyall and his eyes by Christopher Lee. Apparently not a happy experience for him.
Crucible Of Terror – an independent production featuring Mike as a mad sculptor in Cornwall. He subsequently moved to Cornwall and became a sculptor, eschewing the madness. A nutty little film, which features James Bolam, and some actors and technicians who would join Mike for his swansong –
Disciple Of Death – The one of Mike’s films that had eluded me until last night. Mike, Tom Parkinson and their collaborators seem to go for broke on this one. It’s often jeered for being a somewhat shambolic, virtually am-dram production, financed by the participants, lurching from a fairly decent period horror piece to outright comedy (whether intentional or not) via all manner of WTFness. Like some of Jess Franco or Richard Dricoll’s work, I do enjoy a film that, even as you’re watching it, makes you disbelieve what you’re seeing.
Plotwise, it concern’s a young farmboy in love with the Squire’s daughter. Unable to plight their troth because of class barriers, financial problems and the burden of living in a small village, our unrequited lovers decide a cutting-of-thumbs blood pact will have to suffice – a drop of blood falls upon the ground, an satanic lord of the manor Mike is freed from Hell to cause mischief, mayhem and murder amongst the unsuspecting villagers.
The opening credit of 'Once upon a time...' sets the scene. Ronald Lacey (one of the Crucible refugees) shows up in an amazing wig - and those eyebrows! He's like a cross between Peter Bull and Joe Pesci as David Ferrie in JFK. His line 'A DWARF!' is one of the best, topped by an incredible performance in his church - growling 'There is evil abroad, my children' as he climbs onto the coffin of the deceased whose funeral he's supposed to be conducting, whilst Mike grins wickedly in the doorway and practically gives a tip of the hat. There's mucho Georges Melies special effects, Raven horse-riding around like Matthew Hopkins and coming out with those fantastic mid-line mood swings at the end - after bellowing about 'RACKING TORMENT!!!' he switches to ' Well, I'll be off then' with a classic '...'til we meet again (pause) IN HELL!!!' before shaking his fist melodramatically.
Could this sort of crackpot vanity project get made these days?
Thursday, 6 March 2014
Clive Barker's Salome - wild, but ...Wilde...?
It's not often I'd advocate YouTube for anything other than popular music videos (how archaic is that?) but when I discovered a very young Clive Barker had made a version of Salome I was intrigued. Finding out it was a short, I thought the 'Tube might be the best place to try it out.
I discovered a 17 and a half minute version last night. Although apparently ambient music has been added I was forced by circumstance to watch it silent, but the imagery more than made up for any deficiency in sound. Gloomy, spooky, projecting a dark beauty at times, it was inventive and absorbing,
Can't say whether there was any of Oscar in it - apart from the story line I didn't pick up on anything in particular. Interested to read that Clive cited Kenneth Anger as an influence. I was most reminded of Abel Ferrara's The Addiction which I saw recently. No particular reason other than morbid monochrome perhaps. The dance of the seven veils - if that was what was being represented - was especially emotive.
They were so lucky to have that cellar to use.
Tuesday, 4 March 2014
Your Face Here - British Cult Films
Your Face Here - Ali Catterall & Simon Wells
Fourth Estate Paperback 2001
British Cult Movies since the Sixties.
Ali & Simon examine 12 British Cult movies by talking to the people who made them, quoting from other sources and visiting the locations where they were filmed. They've also given me the impetus to watch these 12 films. One of them I haven't seen before, and one I currently don't own a copy of, but hope to remedy soon. Some are based on books, some have boffo soundtracks, all have an essential Britishness and there's a terrific smorgasbord of music, sex, violence, alcohol, drugs, horror, laughter, weirdness, crime, sacrifice and murder.
All in a day's film-watching. Wales and Northern Ireland don't get much of a look-in, Scotland is well represented, there's predictably plenty of London but there's also Newcastle and Brighton and Liverpool by proxy.
Some great stories, some great talent, some great (and not so great) acting, and a verve, energy and wit that exhilarates.
There's also a sense of peeling back the exterior and giving the viewer a glimpse into worlds we would not otherwise (and might not want to) see.
Here's the list =
A Hard Day's Night
Blow Up
if...
Performance
Get Carter
A Clockwork Orange
The Wicker Man
Quadrophenia
Withnail & I
Naked
Trainspotting
Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels
So that's The Beatles, The Yardbirds, Robin Askwith, Mick Jagger, Alf Roberts, Fred Elliott, Sir Christopher Lee, Sting, Uncle Monty, Mike Leigh, Dale Winton and Vinnie Jones. See you (t)here.
Monday, 3 March 2014
Wild About Wilde - Wilde (2007)
I've often crossed paths with Oscar Wilde. The novel and a few film versions of The Picture Of Dorian Gray. The playscript (illustrated by Aubrey Beardsley) of Salome, Steven Berkoff's bizarre almost slow-motion stage version at the National Theatre, and good ol' Ken Russell's barking Salome's Last Dance (made as part of a bet that Ken could deliver a film for under a million pounds - he lost)
Last night I goggled at Stephen Fry's portrayal of Oscar in a film that played against expectations in part. The wife watched the opening and groaned 'Not a Western!' After watching Oscar eye up a few sweaty buff, stripped to the waist miners in the US of A, it's back to England for a whirlwind romance, marriage and two children.
The film is structured around Wilde's children's story The Selfish Giant, which comments upon proceedings.
When Brian Clough/Tony Blair/David Frost/the leader of the Lycans Michael Sheen turns up, it's not long before our Irish playwright is introduced to the wonderful world of homosexuality. He loves his wife and children, but his pursuit of youth and beauty leads him to pleasures forbidden by the normal world. In addition to Sheen, he lays beside Ioan...Ioann...you know Hornblower (sorry) and then a prominent member of the aristocracy Jude Law - where his problems really begin.
Two wildly (stop it!) successful plays (do West End theatregoers still call Author! Author! on first nights?) and Oscar's on top of the world, but Bosie is intruding upon his thoughts and time.
Lord Douglas' father (You are a sod...and a BUGGER!) loathes Wilde despite a relatively pleasant meeting. He attempts to control his family - with tragic results - and Oscar feels Bosie's pain in lack of family love in spite of the young man's spite, childishness, promiscuity.
The famous court case is dealt with in an unsensational manner, and Fry really excels here, exhibiting courage, honour and a belief in the higher nature of man. His lawyer remarks that the maximum sentence for gross indecency is two years hard labour, and men of their ilk could not take more than 9 months.
Oscar is made of stern stuff and bests the treadmill, with heartwarming support from his wife of all people (and Mr Sheen). Fry has displayed some terrific Wildean haircuts, and his prison hedgehog and boiler suit reminded me that I'm probably one of the few people who saw poor Stephen in Cell Mates before he contracted stage fright and fled to Belgium.
Wilde beats the system, but loses his wife, then his children. There's only Bosie left.
Jude Law has often proved a surprise and here he plays Bosie to the hilt, but the film is Fry's.
Fairport Convention - Farnham Maltings
Dragged the Mrs out a while back to see Fairport Convention when I was going through a bit of an electric folk stage, prompted by a band called Circulus.
After their BBC 4 documentary and gig at the Union Chapel, she was up for seeing them again, but was unfortunately taken ill on the night.
I set off alone for the Maltings in Farnham. It was pitch dark and pouring with rain. As I approached Farnham the police had blocked off the main road and were send us all to the right. I ended up lost in narrow back streets and then in a dead end. After a 180 point turn I somehow found myself in Castle Street and the car took over, whizzing straight to the Maltings car park.
Unable to flog the spare ticket, I took my seat (in the front row!) Dave Pegg appeared on stage sounding terrible and confirming the rest of the band were suffering from the lurgi. I noticed his arm was in a sling. Ulp! Yes, he’d suffered a bizarre dishwasher accident involving a glass, severing a tendon or two. Fortunately, his son is a very adept bass player and had stepped in to save the day (and tour).
Dave introduced support act Edwina Hayes, a Northern lass who, despite claiming her material focussed on misery, proved cheerfully upbeat and was joined by FC for her final number.
And onto the Fairports...
After their BBC 4 documentary and gig at the Union Chapel, she was up for seeing them again, but was unfortunately taken ill on the night.
I set off alone for the Maltings in Farnham. It was pitch dark and pouring with rain. As I approached Farnham the police had blocked off the main road and were send us all to the right. I ended up lost in narrow back streets and then in a dead end. After a 180 point turn I somehow found myself in Castle Street and the car took over, whizzing straight to the Maltings car park.
Unable to flog the spare ticket, I took my seat (in the front row!) Dave Pegg appeared on stage sounding terrible and confirming the rest of the band were suffering from the lurgi. I noticed his arm was in a sling. Ulp! Yes, he’d suffered a bizarre dishwasher accident involving a glass, severing a tendon or two. Fortunately, his son is a very adept bass player and had stepped in to save the day (and tour).
Dave introduced support act Edwina Hayes, a Northern lass who, despite claiming her material focussed on misery, proved cheerfully upbeat and was joined by FC for her final number.
And onto the Fairports...
I could only stay for the first set but ‘twas an hour of sheer pleasure -
Jewel In The Crown - great opener, extolling the virtues of Great Britain with no disturbing nationalistic overtones.
Doctor Of Physick - the wicked Dr Monk in a Gothic tale.
I’m Already There - pleasant song (featuring a vicar called Franklin) of a trek from Canada to Oxfordshire and introduced by Chris who mentioned Banbury to little or no reaction. My maternal roots lie in a nearby village called Bloxham (apparently violinist Ric Sanders lives there!)
Home - a new song.
Theodore;s Song - another charming one from Chris about an Oxfordshire eccentric
Dirty Linen - highlight for me, a boffo jiggy instrumental introduced by Simon Nicol as Dirty Crockery as a tribute to Dave’s accident. So fast and furious, Matt (Dave’s son) had to go for lie down afterward.
Cell Song and Mercy Bay finished a great (if short) evening
Jewel In The Crown - great opener, extolling the virtues of Great Britain with no disturbing nationalistic overtones.
Doctor Of Physick - the wicked Dr Monk in a Gothic tale.
I’m Already There - pleasant song (featuring a vicar called Franklin) of a trek from Canada to Oxfordshire and introduced by Chris who mentioned Banbury to little or no reaction. My maternal roots lie in a nearby village called Bloxham (apparently violinist Ric Sanders lives there!)
Home - a new song.
Theodore;s Song - another charming one from Chris about an Oxfordshire eccentric
Dirty Linen - highlight for me, a boffo jiggy instrumental introduced by Simon Nicol as Dirty Crockery as a tribute to Dave’s accident. So fast and furious, Matt (Dave’s son) had to go for lie down afterward.
Cell Song and Mercy Bay finished a great (if short) evening
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