Interesting Links

- Very funny review by Camp Blood of The Fan (1981).

"Enter The Fan. The centerpiece of one of the most ridiculous and embarrassing films I have ever seen, Michael Biehn's Douglas Breen tops the list of Fags Hollywood Didn't Know What to Do With. Imagine a cold-blooded, manipulative, calculating killer. Imagine him tracking his prey for months or even years, picking off her network of friends one by one as he infiltrates her inner sanctum. Imagine him brutally murdering people with a straight-razor and beating his victim bloody with a riding crop.

Now imagine all of this madness as committed by Wayland Flowers.

(...) Lauren Bacall is Sally Ross, a wizened, tobacco-stained Hollywood has-been who looks like she's been ridden hard for 40 years and put away wet. Try though the cinematographer (the unfortunately named Dick Bush) might, Ms. Bacall looks about the worst she ever has, despite his employment of every fog filter on the East Coast and one scene in which I insist he actually shot her through a bowl of milk. Between drinks and 120's (or as we used to say, "bitch-sticks"), Sally is mounting a Broadway show the likes of which no one who didn't see Legs Diamond has ever seen. She'll sing (croak)! She'll dance (waddle)! She'll charm the pants off every tonedeaf and nearsighted person in the audience, dammit! The development of this musical is deserving of a film of its own, but we've got other fish to fry."

I do remember a looong time ago watching this turkey, in disbelief at its kitschness and awfulosity. But not only do I have a crush on, I also sincerely admire Michael Biehn's talent. I see him as a male Angelina Jolie: it doesn't matter what crap he's in, he always gives it an intensity, and psychological complexity that you didn't expect. I believe him on the screen, and he's invariably excellent. The final scene where he, playing a crazed fan, finally gets to confront his diva (Lauren Bacall) is moving, and it's all thanks to him.

- I don't know if you've seen this before:

"A look at what phone sex operators look like as well as their desires, fears, motivations and most memorable calls from Philip Toledano Phone Sex project whose new book will be published in July 2008 by Twin Palms. The book interviews nearly 30 phone sex operators so that we can hear their stories during their work in the phone sex industry."

One of them, a 60 year old woman, says she now earns twice as much as when she used to have a corporate job. And that last part, where an operator says she's had three people commit suicide while they were on the phone with her, was disturbing. I wonder if that sort of thing also happens to other operators, only they choose not to talk about it.

- Alexandre always has tons of great links. I loved this post by Michael Tully on the book Seagalogy, by Vern.

"Seagalogy reads like the work of a renegade film aficionado who became disgusted with the stifling atmosphere inside his Film Theory master classes and retired to a basement to invent his own language, pursuing a genre that mattered to him. Vern earned his invisible PhD by coining the “Badass Auteur Theory,” which, in his words, is “the idea that in some types of action or badass pictures, it is the badass (or star) who carries through themes from one picture to the next.” To the untrained eye, the genuine sincerity Vern applies to Seagal’s forgettable straight-to-video catalogue, his reckless use of foul language, and his atypical perspective mark him as an untrained amateur. But to someone who respects film history, who admires strikingly personal writing, and who shares a similar sensibility, Seagalogy is superior to ninety-five percent of the film writing out there. Vern is a truly distinct voice that deserves to be taken seriously."

Sounds great! Following a link on that article, I stumbled upon this page, where Vern offers a review of a Segal Blues concert (oh yes, Segal plays the Blues, and, according to Vern, not all that bad).

"Another thing I wondered when I realized I had a chance to see Steven Seagal playing music was whether or not he would have guitar face. I don't know if anybody else is as fascinated by this as me, but alot of guitarists make goofy faces while they play. They bob their head around and mouth the sounds they're trying to make. Or sometimes they scrunch up like somebody just farted in their face. With somebody like Jimi or some of the traditional blues guys it might be cool. With alot of people, especially white people, it looks ridiculous. And when you are better known as a movie star, like say if you were Al Pacino or Patrick Stewart, you would look even funnier making guitar face. So this was an important question in my mind.

The answer is that Seagal has a very powerful and unique guitar face that is entirely contained within his brow. For most of his playing his face was completely motionless. His mouth just looked like a bracket tipped over. Like in his movies, his eyes were so narrow that you couldn't tell if they were open or closed. But his eyebrows would tilt in and out of a concerned upside down V and he'd shake his head slightly side to side. This is an entirely respectable guitar face that in no way compromises his tough guy screen persona. In fact it emphasizes it, using my Theory of Badass Juxtaposition. Blues guitar is pretty manly so it's not as strong of a juxtaposition as jazz piano (Clint Eastwood) but personally I believe any expressive art counts."

Also via Alexandre, this illustration by Puño that's pure awesome (click to embiger).



- Stuff like this is why I love My New Plaid Pants:

"Screw the election - I need to know if Shia's bust has buffed up. Now I have some visual of him laying at home in bed at night repeating that manta, "I must, I must, I must increase my bust!" I don't know. I keep typing, thinking I might say something worthwhile. Can I stop now? It's obvious this is going nowhere. You know it, I know it. Everybody knows it, but we're all just watching it happen, saying nothing. It's like a car crash in slow-motion. Viscera metallic and human blending together in a whirlwind of frozen horror. It's just like that. Indeed. Amen. The end. And stuff. Dear god make it"

- Stacie of Final Girl in good form (re: Horror movie Lifeforce). Being called a pile of caca sure takes the glamour out of being sucked by an outer space vampire:

"The poor guard withers away as they make out- it seems that Space Girl is sucking the very life out of him...his lifeforce, if you will! He ends up dead and looking all caca, like this:



Space Girl makes her way out of the Space Research Centre and just like that, the very thing mankind has feared since the beginning of time has come to pass: there's a naked space vampire on the loose! We all knew this day would come eventually, yet we find ourselves so unprepared."

True.