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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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Saturday, May 03, 2008
I'm guessing that many of you haven't seen The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao. But I'm also quite sure that some have seen it. And I bet that those that have hold it in a very special place in their hearts.
The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao is one of those movies that when you mention it to knowing parties, a certain look comes over them. A brightness; a glint of youthful delight. Magic.
I'll never understand why Dr. Lao never got the recognition that it deserved. Why it's not another Wizard of Oz. A much lower budget might be part of it, but I feel that The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao has a deeper emotional resonance than The Wizard of Oz. Plus it's funnier and I think it has more insight into our species than most other films of its kind.
Based on the fantasy novel by Charles (no relation to Jack) Finney, The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao is fairly faithful to the source, but I think that budgetary restraints prevented the spectacular end of the novel to be properly duplicated. But screenwriter Charles Beaumont does an admirable job in keeping the essence of the book, as well as adding his own particular imaginative stamp on the material.
The story deals with an old Chinese fakir named Dr. Lao that takes his circus to the dying Depression-era town called Abalone. A Capitalistic rancher is trying to buy the town away from its inhabitants, who are unaware that a railroad is being planned to come by it. Lao's magical circus acts give powerful lessons to the townfolk, who decide to keep their homes. It's that simple.
Tony Randall, perennial milquetoast character actor and half of The Odd Couple TV show, plays seven different roles in the film: the titular Doc, Medusa, Merlin the Magician, The Abominable Snowman, Pan, a Serpent and Apollonius of Tyana. He's absolutely marvelous and any sensible actor should be envious at his ease and command of the parts.
The entire film is full of wit and joy and pathos and it's one that marks the viewer for life. I've seen it more times than I can count and it's one that I proudly shared with my children, who loved it as well. And it was my brother's favorite movie.
The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao is available on DVD and I hope that you buy it. Then you, like me, can live by these sacred words:
The whole world is a circus if you look at it the right way. Every time you pick up a handful of dust, and see not the dust, but a mystery, a marvel, there in your hand - every time you stop and think, 'I'm alive, and being alive is fantastic!' - every time such a thing happens, you are part of the Circus of Dr. Lao.
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Saturday, April 26, 2008
I love comedy, even though I end up hating most comedy films I see. In the last week I saw three in the theater. One I thought was okay. One I intensely disliked. And one was pretty damned good. In order, they were Leatherheads, Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Meet Bill.
What makes a movie funny? You can have a million answers to that one. I can wax philosophical and make claims about character and dialogue and emotional impact. Sure I can, but sometimes a story simply wins you over. I've often compared humor to sexual attraction. What is pleasing to some is repulsive to another. And I find most recent comedies to be repulsive.
I want to talk about a favorite comedy of mine and I want to go into exactly why it worked for me. It's one that most of you have seen, I'm sure. If you haven't seen it, I'll try not to include too many spoilers, but I can't help but there will be some. So if you haven't seen Planes, Trains and Automobiles, be forewarned. Also, if you haven't seen it, I urge you to do so.
Planes, Trains and Automobiles has the ingredients to a movie that I would probably hate. Two talented stars are in it. Talented guys that tend to make terrible movies. The trailers showed a lot of obvious sight humor and over-the-top situations. But this was written and directed by a guy that I think is really talented, John Hughes, so I saw it in the theater.
It's the night before Thanksgiving and Steve Martin only wishes to fly home from his business appointments to spend the holiday with his loved ones. It starts off badly, as his cab is hijacked by some fat guy. He later meets the man again, who of course is played by John Candy. Their fates are entwined for the next couple of days and every possible thing goes wrong in their attempts to reach their destination.
Normally this is something that I'd dislike. The humor is broad, to say the least, and the two characters are pretty unlikable. Candy's character is completely annoying. He's bumbling, overbearing, loud and more than a bit clingy. Martin's character is pompous, smug, superior and contemptuous of most of the people he comes in contact with.
As the movie goes on, we learn more about these men. Their humanity overcomes their stereotypical exteriors. Most comedies attempt this sort of progression, but few are successful. One of the things that made Planes, Trains and Automobiles work is that I began to see myself in both of them. The awkward, clumsy pushy type that craves acceptance. And the impatient, sneering, cynical snob. I think most of us have that sort of duality in our personalities.
Another thing that makes this movie work is that a lot (not all) of the comedy is genuinely funny. And of course that is up to each individual's perceptions.
Toward the end of the picture, the two men discover that they really aren't all that different and that maybe both of them had been behaving in less than ideal ways. Through their trials and misfortunes, they come to enjoy each other's company. Again, this is the typical formula for his kind of comedy, but what sets this and other Hughes films apart is good writing.
Finally the two reach Steve Martin's home airport and make their farewells. At which point Candy's character reveals something about himself, a denouement if you will. It didn't take an astute viewer to have a good idea of what it was, but it still hits us in the gut. It's devastating and though Martin's tough veneer had mostly been broken down, he is checkmated by the truth about the John Candy character's life. The last of the barriers he had built up for himself have broken. And we now know exactly why the Candy character was so desperate for friendship and acceptance. It's a powerful lesson about judging others and just plain good storytelling.
This to me is a great comedy. It's very funny, yet deeply emotional. Not unlike the odyssey the two characters go through in the film, the viewers have made a journey and we came through the other end of it slightly different. Maybe even a little wiser than we were before watching it.
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Sunday, April 20, 2008
I look back on my life as a reader and I can think of plenty of writers that I've called my favorite. Robert A. Heinlein was the first and Kurt Vonnegut came after. I read a lot of science fiction early on and favorites of mine at various times included Frederik Pohl, Philip Jose Farmer, Robert Bloch, Richard Matheson and Philip K. Dick. When I discovered Stephen King, he reigned supreme until I was blown away by the intricate writing of Peter Straub.
I remember the first time I happened across the name, Joe R. Lansdale. It was a triple review in Fangoria Magazine, praising Act of Love, the Magic Wagon and Dead in the West. I made a note to check out this Lansdale character as soon as I could. Then there was a full-page ad in The Twilight Zone Magazine (God, do I miss it) for a book called The Drive-In, by none other than Joe. R. Lansdale. The brief description convinced me that THIS was a book that I had to have. I found a copy on a Friday evening at WaldenBooks and started reading it around 11:00 PM. I couldn't finish it that night, but I picked up up immediately upon waking the next morning. Instantly, Joe R. Lansdale became my favorite writer. And he has held that position in my mind for a record breaking period of time.
Lansdale is an established literary phenomena by now. But it was fascinating and rewarding to watch this writer grow. His early career had a lot of extreme violence and showed a tremendous influence of movies in it. Over the years, Joe Lansdale has managed to mature, without getting stale or boring. Some of his stuff is really out there. My own favorites of his work have their feet firmly planted on Terra Firma. Suspense yarns like Cold In July, The Bottoms, A Fine Dark Line, Sunset and Sawdust, The Boar.
 Joe Lansdale has published in most conceivable genres. Though a lot of it (especially his shorter works) can be described as horror, you can't really call Lansdale a horror writer. He is, however, very popular among horror readers. I think the only way to truly pigeonhole Lansdale into one particular genre is to say that his style is Joe R. Lansdale. Many have tried, but none touch his own unique ability to weave words into stories.
One of Joe's earliest, and best, books is called The Nightrunners. It's a wonderful horror novel that sits nicely next to the so-called Splatterpunk books of its time. Now, Joe insisted that he was emphatically not a Splatterpunk writer and I definitely agree with that. Still, The Nightrunners is a prime example of the type of visceral, hard-hitting horror story that was associated with that semi-facetious term.
The Nightrunners was originally published as small press edition by Dark Harvest and it came out later as a mass-market paperback. It was reprinted again later in paperback, but it went out of print and has been something of a legend ever since then. Finally, last year Joe's primary small press publisher, Subterranean Press, reprinted The Nightrunners in an omnibus collection called The God of the Razor. This handsome volume also contains an interesting Introductory piece and several stories that either take place or were inspired by The Nightrunners.
The Nightrunners shows Joe's early talent in full, unbridled force. It's kind of frantic, as if he could barely maintain control of his imagination and enthusiasm. It's raw, it's powerful and it's funny and frightening and massively entertaining. And it is one of the finest novels of horror that came out in an exciting and fertile time for the genre.
Some books are good and enjoyable and then you may set it aside. Possibly on a shelf and maybe you'll give it away. Or it ends up in a box or to the paperback exchange store. The God of the Razor is not such a book. This is one that is the kind that you need in a deluxe, sturdy edition. One to proudly sit amid the classics of the horror and suspense genres. The Limited edition of The God of the Razor is sold out, but a deluxe, unsigned hardcover is still available. You can get it direct from Subterranean, or, if you are always looking to save a buck like me, from Amazon
If you come to this site with an interest in horror fiction, The God of the Razor is a mandatory book for your collection. If you've read it, then you already know that. If you haven't, you'd better grab one before it sells out again.
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