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Monday, August 18, 2008
I used to love underground movies and in fact I still do. But the term, Underground, has become as trite and meaningless as ones like Alternative and Hardcore.
There are about as many definitions for Underground Movies are there are people talking about the subject, but I always felt that it stood for danger. Risk. Underground Movies were produced outside the law and outside the standards of the established movie industry.
If one man knows about the real meaning of Underground Movies, it would have to be John Waters. His early movies are atrocities, his celluloid crimes which were condemned and savaged by critics. Many of whom later retracted their harsh words when John gained acceptance from so many quarters.
John has managed to maintain his integrity while becoming an established film director. That he went from one of the most reviled individuals in film history to one that made one of the most beloved movies of all time (Hairspray) is a remarkable accomplishment. Yes, he made some family-friendly movies, but John Waters' black heart has remained in tasteless, transgressive motion pictures and Cecil B. Demented is his love letter to them.
I hadn't seen Cecil B. Demented is quite some time and I dusted off my old DVD and spun it the other night. Just as when I first watched it, Cecil B. Demented touched my own heart and made me despise the mainstream all over again.
Contemplating it, I'm wondering where the real underground movies are today? I'm not talking about a bunch of strippers showing their stuff or yet another tedious zombie opus. That ain't Underground, folks. Not by a long shot.
Part of it is the digital revolution. Now anyone can shoot a 'movie' for almost nothing and they can edit them with ease on their home computers. In theory that's a good thing, but I think it takes away from things. No longer does a filmmaker have to have the determination to make the amount of film he was able to buy (or steal) count. It isn't as critical that every shot be on the money.
Where are the Kenneth Angers, the Maya Derens, the George Kuchars of today? Regardless of whether you like his efforts, where are the filmmakers with the passion and political conviction of Nick Zedd? Or Richard Kern, who turned eroticism upside down with his perverted sensibilities? Who are the heirs to these provocateurs? Are there any?
I don't see them, but I've reached the point where I've just about stopped trying. Too much unfulfilled hype and not even passion and originality, from what I've seen. Part of me thinks that there has to be some out there fighting the good fight. Breaking down the barriers of good taste, shocking viewers into seeing through the bullshit in our society. People are becoming more braindead than ever. Senses dulled by video games, the rising tide of extreme religious fanaticism and subversiveness in the form of grossout comedies and lame cartoons. And I know, John Waters made his career with grossout comedies, but Pink Flamingos was released thirty-six long years ago. It just took the mainstream a few decades to catch up, compromise it and sell it to the masses.
If there are any groundbreaking truly independent films or filmmakers out there, I'd genuinely love to know about them.
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Thursday, August 14, 2008
Actually I got my first computer in June, 1998. Early for some, but a lot of people had been online for a long time.
I took to it like a fish takes to water. Finally I could find out all kinds of things about writers and filmmakers and favorite musicians. I could find songs to listen to and books that I had searched for for years.
Then there were the fans. I saw some horror fiction boards, but I felt insecure about participating at them. Instead I began to post at horror movie sites. Later I went into the horror fiction discussion business and I saw an amazing amount of success. I think it came from my own enthusiasm and lack of cynicism about the field. I looked at certain other forums and I saw a lot of bitter people. Jaded and often with vicious temperaments. I found it to be infantile and petty and I wanted no part of that sort of thing.
I made a move or two in this crazy environment and I somehow bumbled into making a name for myself. I always wanted to start my own place up and I did so a couple of years ago. You're looking at it right now.
There has been so many changes in the field since those naive days. The small press exploded and is still growing and mutating to adapt to the market and the community. When I started there was only a few boards dedicated to horror literature and in the course of a half-decade or so, it seemed like dozens popped up. Often at odds with other sites.
That's something I never quite understood, but I suppose that's part of the competitive nature of our species. My own perspective is that we're all part of a family. I may not exactly be crazy everyone in it, but I do feel a kinship to those that love the genre.
Computers have become such an enormous part of our lives. The effects of them have been mixed. Our lives are easier, that's for sure. Paying bills and keeping track of debts and bank accounts is far, far more convenient. It's easier to follow news and information about just about everything. We know what books, movies and music releases that are coming long before their street dates. All that's nice, but...
Maybe we've lost something. The magic of looking in a bookstore and the explosive thrill of seeing a new, unexpected book by a beloved author. That's mostly gone. And thrift store hunts--they aren't the same. Not when I can get just about any book for a nominal price at abebooks or Amazon.com Marketplace or Ebay.
We've also demystified the creative process. We've seen the writers and filmmakers at their best and at their worst. Warts and all.
And maybe we've lost some more important things. How many hours have we taken from our families to sit down and meticulously read post after post at message boards? For me, I can give an exact number: too many. I've always been a fairly big guy, but I gained an atrocious amount of weight by abandoning my formerly active lifestyle in favor of sitting on my ass in front of this screen. Like anything else, it can be addicting and it can deprive us of the really important things in life.
However, on the other side of the coin, I've seen tremendous acts of humanity at the boards. Countless instances of emotional and moral support. And, yes, financial support as well. I've seen dozens of acts of generosity from the community. I've made some of the best friends I've ever had from sitting at this computer, pecking on these damned keys.
True to the duality of humankind, I've seen hatred and virtual lynch mobs formed. Incredible ugliness.
But for the most part, I've seen the community as an overwhelmingly positive influence on publishing. So many readers and collectors are unrelentingly supportive.
I hate to resort to a cliché by a corny old movie, but Mr. Miyagi had it right in The Karate Kid. There should be a balance in everything in life. We love horror and it's important that we stay involved. Keep the home fires burning. But we shouldn't lose sight of our families and having a real social life outside the computer world. Keeping physically active is one of the most important things in life and I've made Herculean efforts to reverse the way I had let my body go to hell in for about eight years.
I've been at this for ten years and I guess I'll be doing it for at least another decade. It's been a wild ride and I thank everyone who has been along for it.
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Wednesday, July 16, 2008
 I'm always getting on my soapbox and asking you to spend your hard-won dollars. I can't help it. If we love this stuff...movies, books, etc., the only way to do our part to ensure that our favorites can continue to bring us our daily horror bread is to speak out with our purchasing dollars.
I've had a lot of writers that I've called my favorites over the many years I've been a reader. Robert A. Heinlein, Frederik Pohl, Kurt Vonnegut, Philip Jose Farmer, Stephen King, Peter Straub, Robert Cormier, Bill Pronzini. And I still adore the works of these fine writers. But the one that has most constantly topped my list has been Joe R. Lansdale.
I first discovered Lansdale's work with his seminal novel, The Drive-In. Obviously, I've always been a fan of outdoor theaters and when I heard about a novel with the name, The Drive-In, I knew that I had to read it. I did and I was blown away by the storytelling of the writer. Joe R. Lansdale.
 Remember the first time you read Joe? Maybe it was a Hap and Leonard book. Perhaps it was The Bottoms or maybe Cold in July. Or maybe it was one of Joe's amazing short stories. I know that Night They Missed The Horror Show won him a lot of fans. Regardless of what your first Lansdale was, it's probable that you look back on it with a special sort of fondness. Much like the love of a drive-in theater from your youth.
Joe R. Lansdale has written in a lot of genres. Horror, Western, Thriller, Comics, Pulp and the just plain weird. I like it all, but my very favorites of Joe's work are the ones that have their feet firmly in reality. His suspense thrillers, like The Bottoms. A Fine Dark Line. Cold In July. Sunset and Sawdust. And Waltz of Shadows, which sorely deserves to be reprinted.
On August 5th, Joe Lansdale's latest novel will be released. It's called Leather Maiden and it's one of the suspense stories that I favor. Reading the plot synopsis, I have gotten really excited. This could possibly be his finest work to date.
This is a crucial time for Joe R. Lansdale. His career is at a crossroads and it's important for Leather Maiden to be a success. Every sale counts and I need you guys to help out with this one. I know that some of you use the library and I do too. I always make an exception on Joe's case and I'm asking you to do the same. Please don't wait for the paperback this time either.
It seems like I'm always asking you to spend your hard-earned money on something or other. Sorry about that, but I love fiction (and film and music) and the only way our favorites can succeed is for us to speak with out dollars. I usually ask to help people I admire. Not this time. This time I'm asking for purposes of greed. I want more Lansdale fiction to continue to be published. I want more Hap and Leonard and I want more suspense. I want more of the weird shit and whatever else he might have up his sleeve.
I'm not really asking all that much. Go ahead and order from Amazon and if you preorder it now, you'll save. Any new work by this writer is well worth more than $16.29. I promise you won't be disappointed.
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Tuesday, June 24, 2008
It would seem to be a natural given that horror fans would love Oingo Boingo, but sadly, it's all too often not the case. Despite complex orchestrations, beautiful melodies and a dark slant to most of their music, I've noticed a lot of negativity toward the band. I think I know part of the reason why that is.
Many critics savaged Boingo from from the start. Why? Gee, could it be a scathing song about rock journalists called Imposter, from their first album? Take a listen. I've always loved Imposter, partially because it's a kick ass tune and partially because I've always hated rock journalists. Nearly all of them, anyway. No doubt they had their little feelings hurt by the song and they got their revenge the best they could. Not that it deterred Danny Elfman's career a bit.
Sadly, those pathetic bastards have more sway than they deserve and whether they'd admit it or not, the massive bad press about Oingo Boingo affected a lot of people's opinions.
Oingo Boingo started out as The Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo and they were a musical/theatrical group. Their deranged show contained elements of cabaret, Dadaism, Cab Callaway and other forms of barely-controlled insanity. The troupe was led by Richard Elfman, who became more interested in film. This led to the delirious Forbidden Zone, a black and white mindfuck of an acid trip film that defies description.
With Richard Elfman off in a different direction, the leadership of the band fell to brother Danny. Danny Elfman decided to go into a more traditional musical form and turn the band into a ska group. The name was shortened to merely Oingo Boingo and they went on to have a very successful run.
Most know Oingo Boingo from their appearance in the hilarious Rodney Dangerfield movie, Back to School. Boingo played what became their signature piece, Dead Man's Party, in it.
Danny's fascination with the macabre bled into his songwriting and many of the songs dealt with mortality, yet never seemed to be morbid. The message was to enjoy, dance and party while you're still here, because death was eventually waiting for us all.
The band enjoyed several years of sold-out shows and popular songs, but as their sound began to change, Oingo Boingo lost a lot of their audience. 1990's Dark at the End of the Tunnel was more introspective and melodic and featured less ska-influenced party music. I personally felt that it was their finest work up to that point.
Danny Elfman's symphonic arrangements were naturally suited to the movies and Tim Burton approached him to score his first film, Pee Wee's Big Adventure. This successful collaboration led to a long and fruitful relationship between the two oddball personalities. Beetlejuice came after Pee Wee's Big Adventure and it was even more of a success. But it was with 1989's Batman that Elfman and Burton really hit it big. The movie was huge and the music of Danny Elfman has been in constant demand ever since then. But it was not without controversy.
A music professor named Micah Rubenstein wrote an outraged letter to Keyboard Magazine in response to an interview with Elfman, accusing him of 'glorifying musical ignorance'. Elfman's incensed rebuttal is printed in its entirety here.
I've heard people say that "all of Danny Elfman's film scores sound the same", which is completely wrong. Yes, he often uses a signature sound, especially in the comic book movies he scores, but Dead Presidents sounds nothing like Freeway. Which sounds absolutely nothing like the music for Planet of the Apes.Elfman's theremin-heavy SF music for Mars Attacks! bears no resemblance to the sound of Big Fish. You get the picture.
I was a huge Oingo Boingo fan in the early-mid 90's, just in time for the final rock album by the band. This time the album was simply called Boingo and it is arguably the best thing they ever did. I also think it's one of the best albums I've ever heard, period. Sadly, too few people have listened to it. Gone (well, mostly) is the horn section and in place there is extra guitar work courtesy of Vandals player, Warren Fitzgerald. He, along with Steve Bartek and Danny Elfman, play densely layered work that is almost an orchestration of guitars. And Danny Elfman's songwriting has never been richer or more powerful than on Boingo.
In 1995, Danny Elfman announced the retirement of Oingo Boingo. Their final performance would be their annual Halloween show, which took place at the Universal Amphitheater. The show was captured on both audio CD and DVD. It remains, along with Talking Heads' brilliant Stop Making Sense, the best concert film I've ever seen.
Unlike many other recording acts, Oingo Boingo's retirement seems to be genuine. I guess with the kind of money Danny makes with movie soundtracks, he can afford to hang up the touring. But he says that he has permanent hearing damage from playing with the band and that he will never do so again.
Danny Elfman had this to say about it: Quite simply... the time was right. After 17 years together, it finally occurred to me that we had survived about 16 years longer than I had expected... pretty good by any standards I think. It's been good, crazy times, and I'm always amazed how loyal our fans have been, but I think it's better to let things go before they turn sour. Also, scientifically speaking, modern research has recently proven that after a band has been together longer than a decade, the risk of the dinosaur factor kicking in increases exponentially each year thereafter. In short, it's been fun. Adios Amigos.
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Monday, June 16, 2008
I miss Andy Sidaris. He was no great filmmaker, but he always gave his fans what they paid to see. It was The Triple B Pledge: Bullets, Bombs and Babes.
Andy Sidaris got his start in the world of televised sports. He was the first directer of ABC's Wide World of Sports and he directed countless professional games before he began making feature motion pictures. The Sidaris Formula consisted of having various Playboy Playmates involved in some kind of international crime caper. Think Charlie's Angels with a lot more skin. They were generally shot in Hawaii.
I had never heard of Andy or his movies. Until one night on Joe Bob Briggs' Drive-In Theater. My God, those were the days. I'd watch JBB every Saturday Night and he showed some great films. As well as many not-so-great ones. The films of Andy Sidaris fell somewhere in the middle. They were slick enough, as he had more than ample experience behind the camera. He directed as well as wrote many of them and, trust me, he was no Mamet. But he managed to get the story across. And you didn't have to worry about a whole lot of plot to get in the way of the skin and the explosions. Sidaris knew what his audiences wanted and he gave it to them.
The first I saw was Hard Ticket to Hawaii and I later saw Malibu Express, Hard Hunted, Savage Beach and Picasso Trigger. These movies were late night cable TV staples in the 80's and 90's. For all I know they still are.
Andy Sidaris died in March 2007, of throat cancer. His career was successful by any standard. He learned the ropes in the industry and went on to write and direct 12 money-making pictures.
It hardly seems like Summer without Andy Sidaris around anymore.
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Wednesday, June 04, 2008
I've never been much of a man of faith. You can call me cynical or possibly pessimistic. I've never believed in the pot at the end of the rainbow. Some of my earliest recollections involve me thinking that the idea of God would be a great thing, but the logistics of it prevented me from buying it. I've gone from outright atheist to possibly agnostic to I-don't-know-what-to-think.
The older you get, the more you tend to question your convictions, I think. Especially if those convictions are fatalistic.
I put a lot of stock in dreams. I am a person that dreams a lot and often they have a lot of personal meaning to me. My brother died a couple of years ago and a week doesn't go by without me having a dream with him in it. Often the dreams are painful, but sometimes they are joyous. Once I dreamed of Heaven.
This was a number of years ago. Maybe three, but possibly four. I didn't keep track of the actual date, but I've never forgotten this vivid dream.
In it, I found myself walking in an enormous mansion. It was huge and it had inner walls, but no outside walls that I could see. So I could see for a long, long way. In the dream I was younger than I was at the time I had it. I was lighter and my knees didn't hurt.
Everywhere I looked I saw knots of people. In crowds and seated at tables. There were so many things going on--plays, films, musical acts. More than I could take in. On and on, up to and past the horizon of the beautiful day that was outside.
I walked along this mansion, seeing wonders. I remember stopping in front of a puppet show that a half a dozen or so people were watching. In was funny, but not my particular thing. Walking on, I came to an area where there were displays of food behind glass. It was the best-looking food I had ever seen and there was an immaculately dressed man there serving it. As always I was worried about whether I could afford anything and I asked the man about prices. The well-dressed man smiled and said, "There's no charge sir. There's never a charge". I didn't feel hungry, but I knew that I would enjoy some of that food. But I chose to wait. There was too much to see and time later to sample things.
Walking on, I turned a corner and went outside the building and on the side of it I saw my wife, Tanya. She looked more beautiful than ever; young, fit, healthy and beaming. We didn't speak, but joined arms and she walked with me. There were people everywhere, most of whom I didn't know. Even though, in a strange way, I felt like I did know them. Everyone smiled and I could feel an overwhelming warmth coming from everywhere.
We came to an area where there were picnic tables and I saw all my old friends at one. They were all laughing and very happy. I felt that all of the things that drove most of us apart were silly and petty. Ridiculous that we had let such small matters ruin the close bond that so many of us had had. I almost joined them, but I thought, Not yet.
At another large table not so far away was a group of people I know from the horror fiction community. Again, everyone seemed happy and warm. Some saw me and waved us over, but I only smiled and waved, giving a gesture that I would be there with them soon. I felt no urgency. Time. Plenty of it. There was so much to see. New friends to make and wonders to marvel at.
One thing that was certain to me, and this seemed very important in the dream. This large gathering had started at exactly the same time for everyone. No one had to wait to see anyone. We were all there together, almost as if we had always been together.
The main feeling I felt from within and from everyone else was enormous relief. It was all over: the worry, the pain, the suffering, the uncertainty. We had made it and everything that had happened to us before was important to the people that were now were. The experiences, the good and the bad, made us what we were.
This is 100% true. I'm not making up or exaggerating a bit of it.
I've thought about this dream a lot over the past few years and I've been thinking about it a lot more lately. I have a birthday this month and I've reached an age where birthdays are no longer a joy, but a reminder of my dwindling mortality. Was this dream a nocturnal form of wishful thinking? Was it a message from my soul? Do we even have souls? Was it a memory of the consciousness from before my birth and a premonition of after my death?
When I visited my brother, dying of cancer, the last thing he said to me was, "I'll see you".
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Saturday, May 17, 2008
We are all, to varying degrees, addicted to convenience. Everything at our fingertips and when denied it, many react with anger and hostility. People are becoming spoiled brats. I should know, because I'm one of them.
Netflix is becoming the most popular means for people to rent or even watch movies at home. No more trips to a video store. Too much work involved. No more late fees, which were the downfall of many movie renters in days past. Every rental from Netflix is guaranteed. It's a great thing. Isn't it?
I joined Netflix a while back and I was very unhappy with the condition of most of the movies I got. So I quit. Very recently a friend gave me a free month's rentals. And this time, I've been very, very happy with the discs that I've been sent.
It's really kind of impossible to beat. Nearly every movie in print and plenty of out of print ones too. All at one's fingertips. Oh, there's a long wait for some, but for the most part, you can see anything you want. Quick, easy and at an unbeatable price.
But maybe there is a price to pay for that convenience.
I'm beginning to hear some dark things about the DVD market. The smaller companies seem to be hurting when they were thriving a few years ago. I hear that many are barely scraping by. What role does Netflix play in it all?
It has to help a bit, at least to some degree. They are buying multiple copies of just about everything that comes out. But...
Are YOU buying fewer DVDs?
Shit, who can afford to continue to buy them? At least at the rate of which most of us did so in the early years of DVD. We can't. At least I can't.
Back when home video was mostly a rental market, prices were set to be put out of the range of most collectors. People rented and maybe bought used tapes or sometimes they would come down in price. But DVD, by its very nature, is a collector's format. Who wants to take back a movie when there is tons of content on them? And DVD prices were low enough for most working people to buy the ones that they really want.
Now figure in the ease of burning DVDs. A lot of people have software that can burn movies that they rent. Now, with the aid of Netflix, they are building huge collections at a fraction of the cost that they were paying. Whoopee!
How healthy is this situation for the industry? It's easy to hate corporations, but a lot of the really cool small companies need direct sales to exist. Dark rumors of bankruptcy are spreading.
Folks, we NEED companies like Blue Underground. Synapse. Diemos. Dark Sky. Barrel. Anchor Bay. Hell, even Shriek Show. We don't need the market monopolized by Lion's Gate and Dimension, despite all the cool stuff they release.
Remember those days when you first got the DVD bug? Remember the excitement, the thrill, the absolute joy of owning great copies of cherished movies. The market was great then. Now, maybe it's not so good.
I'm not knocking Netflix. I'll probably keep my membership this time. How the hell can I not? But I'm not going to stop buying DVDs and I'm asking you to keep buying too. Not everything that comes out, like some of us attempted to do, but to keep buying favorites. Keep some of the money going to the source. We need them and they need us.
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