Cinematic Sacriledge, Nasties, Snake Plants & Felony: Link Update Round-Up

There are fewer things in life sweeter to me than variety. Chalk it up to a general joie de vivre or a severe case of clinically undiagnosed ADD, I like to shake things up on a fairly continual basis. This is crystalline in its obviousness when you scan through this latest update round-up.

For starters, my piece on Jean-Luc Godard's controversial 1985 film involving themes of religion and family, HAIL MARY, can be read in the latest issue of the best magazine dedicated to VHS subculture, Lunchmeat. 

In the spirit of Columbus/Indigenous Peoples' Day, the fantastic Actually Huizenga (whose work I have written about before on Dangerous Minds) has released a non-album single called "Red, White, Black & Blue." Even better is that it's a duet with Murphy Maxwell and has a corresponding photo shoot by brilliant photographer, Socrates Mitsios. I got to write about it as a collaborative effort of sorts for the fashion-travel-art-sex magazine, Live Fast. They are great and so is Actually. Definitely check it out.

Speaking of Dangerous Minds, I got to recently cover one of my absolute favorite composers ever, the criminally underrated Mort Garson. The man's an electric music pioneer and had one of the most unique careers in the history of modern music.

Being both a big fan of free speech, documentaries and director Jake West, it was only a matter of time I would delve into Severin's superb three-disc set, VIDEO NASTIES: THE DEFINITIVE GUIDE. (You can read my piece about it over at Dangerous Minds.) Even if you're not a horror or exploitation film fan, you will still love this vital documentary whose issues are as vital now as they were back in the 80's.

One of my favorite slasher films, GRADUATION DAY, recently got a spiffy release courtesy of the always fabulous folks over at Vinegar Syndrome. It's tight little gem with some key surprises and an appearance by one of the most unique bands that came out of the New Wave scene, Felony. You can read about all of that and more right here.

So there you have it! There is much more where that came from, so keep your peepers peeled, your mind open and in the meantime, have a great evening!

© 2014 Heather Drain

The Future of Cinema Meets Article Round-Ups

2014 has already been one of the strongest and strangest years I have had, well, ever. Older projects are getting filled out and delved into further, while new ones are starting to take root. The best part is that I am only halfway getting started.

Before I segue into my "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World"-style post, one thing I have wanted to briefly write about is a discussion that has come up and more and more regarding film versus digital. Seeing quotes from directors who should know better proclaiming the digital wave as a sign that "cinema is dead," I have instant PTS of hearing a litany of old people griping about change. You know the drill. The younger generations are sending the world straight into dumbass hell, while their parents and grandparents grind their dentures on butterscotch candy and abandoned dreams. It's as old as time itself. Saying cinema is dead is tantamount to telling all the struggling filmmakers out there that they are screwed and might as well give up. But one thing they don't teach you in school is that the biggest element you need to survive in any of the creative arts is pure, undiluted tenacity. Someone tells you cinema is dead, then prove them wrong and make the best movie you can dream of. I grew up worshipping at the twin altars of silent film mavericks like Robert Weine as well as Indie Cult gurus like John Waters because these are artists that took what could be perceived as limits and instead, created new frontiers. Rip it up and start again.

I will always champion film preservation till my last breath. I love film stock with all of my cineaste heart, especially all the beautiful grain and texture it can possess. But there is a middle to be met here. You can love film, as well as embrace digital. After all, what makes real cinema is the right mix of vision, lighting, good editing, sound, heart and flat out testicular/ovular fortitude. These elements can cohabitate on any format. 

In other words, take care of the past, look to the future and never ever give up.

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Now, speaking of the past, here are some of my favorite things that I wrote about in the past several months.

The Dance of Reality/La Danza de la Realidad

One would be hard pressed to think of a finer gift from the universe than a new film by Alejandro Jodorowsky and this year, we got such a present. Even better, is that it was well worth the nearly 25 year wait.

Getting to write about this brilliant and heart-burrowingly great film for Dangerous Minds was a pleasure, matched only by getting to talk with the man himself. With generous thanks to both my fantastic editor and Jodorowsky's lovely PR guy Matt, I got to speak on the phone with the director/personal artistic godhead for an interview about his latest film. Sadly, our connection was pretty spotty lending to a fragmented conversation that was heavenly when it did connect and frustrating when it did not. The fact that it did last almost 30 minutes is both a testament to the seeds of a good conversation and (more than likely) the man's saint-like patience. But even with the wonky connection, Mr. Jodorowsky was incredibly gentle, assertive and nothing short of wonderful. (Also, quick thanks to my friend David Arrate for his audio assistance.)

Back Issues: The Hustler Magazine Story

Hands down, one of the best documentaries I have seen in a long time, Michael Lee Nirenberg's film is smart, fun, kinetic and has its own thumbprint while exploring one of the most subversive American magazines ever. Keep on eye on this guy, because I have a feeling this is just the beginning for the young filmmaker.

Massacre at Central High

After writing about Rene Daalder's powerful and still controversial feature film, I found out directly from Cult Epics that they are indeed prepping to release it. This will be the first legal domestic release this overlooked gem has had in decades.

Sugar Cookies

Bless Vinegar Syndrome for not only releasing this underground-meets-overground film but also for giving it such a gorgeous release. Every frame in this feature could be put on a wall in an art gallery. Great, great stuff.

Of course, this is just the tip of the iceberg, which also includes book projects, recent podcast appearances (Thank you Mike White, Rob St. Mary and Frank Cotolo!) and an event that equals my Jodorowsky experience in a multitude of ways. But I'm here to sell the sizzle, folks, not the steak. So in the meantime, enjoy!

2014 © Heather Drain

Mondo Roundup: Going to the Theater Edition

There is something achingly beautiful and yet flat out achy when it comes to decayed movie theaters. Once upon a time, not that long ago in fact, going to the movies was an epic and occasionally glamorous thing. Even when I was a little girl in the 80's, with the glory days of the palatial, gilded frame movie houses being long, long gone, the theater was still a magical place. Sure, the movie theater in question was realistically a ratty dollar theater attached to a strip mall, probably built in the early to mid 70's, but for a kid, it was the closest thing I had to a living remnant to an era of film that I only knew via large film books with yellowy pages.

Of course, it helps that this was right before the stinky hand of commercials had infiltrated the movie going experience and even at a pee-stenched theater whose glory days were dubious from inception, the stained red curtains parted like the red seas when the trailers began. It's a seemingly small gesture but it was all part of the dingy majesty for me. 

The small town I grew up in actually did have a proper, non strip-mall attached theater too. The Apollo Theater, nestled in the historic and semi-neglected as long as I can remember historic downtown area, was always there. Doing research, they were showing kids films when I was a toddler and before then, adult films. Before that? I'm not sure, but what I do know is that it is still there. All but practically condemned and rotting from the inside, the Apollo now has all the appearance of waiting to die. Which is a shame. Beyond a shame but the structure, still there after decades of growth and Appleby's, gives a faint shadow of hope that maybe someone will rescue it. Just because something is neglected, doesn't necessarily mean it has to die. 

 

The other night, as I was trying to work on the above passage, I got sucked into one of the most recent episodes of The Rialto Report and their fantastic interview with Veronica Vera. There was something about this particular interview that, by the end, hit me emotionally. Here's this amazing woman, who is so classy, smart and someone who has made an incredible thumbprint in this world by being so open to new frontiers, both in terms of sexuality, as well as writing and gender. We live in a culture where the accepted image of someone being open and outside the status quo fray is “Dharma & Greg” or whatever “manic-pixie” mainstream dream machine you want to invoke. Accepted risks are buying a faux African-patterned skirt from a store at the mall. But Vera, along with many of her peers and the subjects of Rialto's other interviews, took real risks.

It's incredibly weird to me that it is 2014, a number so Jetson-sounding in its futurism, that things like “slut shaming” and overall stunted attitudes towards human expression involving sexuality are still alive and well. Kind of like that small militant army of cockroaches that live underneath your kitchen sink, outdated morals refuse to die in our culture. And that's part of why I do what I do. Outdated mores tend to blind people to art. A chaste female nude is considered auto-art by some, but yet the moment that nude gets to derive pleasure from something more than just the male gaze, it's smut and therefore, not deemed respectable or worth examining. This is beyond ridiculous. Attitudes like this should be relegated to the same kind of snickering we save for things like medicinal leeches and the belief that the devil is tied to mental illness.

With our culture, it's not just simply about out-moded puritanism but classism too. It eternally mystifies me that guys like Gerard Damiano, Cecil Howard or Stephen Sayadian are all but labeled pornographers but their European/Asian counterparts like Oshima, Breillat and most recently, “Nymphomaniac” director Lars von Trier are deemed artists. And you know what? They ARE artists but so are Damiano, Howard and Sayadian. But the key difference between the latter three and the former is that the latter are not only American, but worked in a milieu that is considered to be the bottom rung of the bread and circuses ladder. The more lower-class a medium is perceived, the more derided, if not flat out neglected, it is. Which is strange. Shouldn't this be the enlightened age? It's okay to have a film display raw human sad emotion but sexuality is still taboo? 

 

Now, speaking of the tawdry, you can check out my latest for Dangerous Minds, covering the ultra-obscure Russ Meyer film, “Fanny Hill..” It is tame for the master of bosmania but that said , still a lot of fun and looking better than it ever has, thanks to the hard work of the folks at VinegarSyndrome.

Mondo Roundup: The Talent is an Asset Edition

The creature known as the dandy has become, now more than ever, an endangered species. With the waters being crowded with boring metrosexuals, crummy hipster beards and the most banal of them all, the fake tanned gym rat, where are the true peacocks of the world?

Over the past few days, I've been haunted by the spectre of Fred Hughes. Best known for bridging the gap between underground art and the portrait-artist-for-hire world for the legendary Andy Warhol, Hughes was as striking of a figure as his boss. Originally from Texas, Hughes was a born dandy with an aesthetic eye for everything in his life, whether it was paintings, people, clothing, knick knacks and perhaps, life in general. Pseudo-adopted in his college years by the de Menils, who were heirs to the Schlumberger oil fortune, they took the young art history major on significant art buying trips in New York and Europe. Soon, “Le Dauphin” crossed paths with Warhol and history was made. It was Hughes that was with Andy when he was shot by SCUM manifesto writer Valerie Solonas. It was also Hughes that led Andy to all sorts of chi-chi portraiture gigs, affording Warhol to take more risks with the art that actually mattered but also to force the art world at large to really examine what is art. To this day, there are people that vehemently loathe Warhol and his art, but anything that makes you feel that strongly must have something there. Part of the genius of Warhol is that he completely left it up to you to judge and whether or not it was deemed art, he just kept quiet and kept creating. 

Hughes went on to be executor of Andy's estate after he passed in 1987 and per the request of Warhol's will, founded The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts. A few years later, Hughes was forced out due to infighting with the organization's president, Archibald L. Gillies. However, the ultimate setback was being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which ended up taking his life in 2001.

It may seem odd that this semi-bohemian, DIY loving, strictly working class girl from the South to be thinking of a man who was as chic and dandified as Hughes, but much like Warhol himself, he was a man that came out of fairly humble origins (his father was in the furniture business). Despite that or maybe even because of this, he was able to, thanks to a hawk-like sense of art-keen and a lack of fear, to be this raging, omnisexual creature of sheer style. Due to all of these things, he crafted the kind of exact life he wanted, with only an unpreventable health issue getting in the way. On top of all that, I love anyone who is fully committed to just being whomever they truly are. So many live the life of the worst sort of regret, which is the kind born of “what if.” There are few things that I personally find more haunting than that. In addition to that, a cat like Fred Hughes absolutely loved art and even better, was reportedly the inspiration for the title character in Paul Morrissey's “Blood for Dracula.” Fred, I salute you, no matter whatever assortment of bitchy things Bob Colacello wrote about you in “Holy Terror.” The world needs more people who are not afraid to be striking and more importantly, not afraid to be. 

With a lot of buzz bounding about with awards season, it always make me wonder why we put so much stock into these things. Of course, all creative people, myself definitely included, want if not outright crave attention, respect and affection. That's the truth and there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting feedback and appreciation for your hard work. That's just human. However, the big fallacy with awards, whether it is something as big as the Oscars or as small as an online poll, is that the truly deserving rarely win. It's like someone cut off the multiple heads of your high school's student council and those heads grew into a rainbow assortment of awards shows. Think about all the great artists who have never won versus some of the milquetoast equivalents that did. If you want to know the best way to support your favorite artist, fuck the awards and give them something they can actually use.

Like a livelihood.

A nice statue isn't going to pay anyone's rent or feed their kids. Buy their books, watch their movies, listen to their music, look at their paintings, etc etc. Let them know that their message in a bottle isn't just rotting away into the ether. 

If you need something fun, splashy and trashy to wash away the bitter taste of my mini-rant, then check out my piece on the great 80's horror film tome, “Bleeding Skull” over at Dangerous Minds. Still needing a refreshment? Then wash that bad boy down with my “Employee Recommendations” at the fabulous Rupert Pupkin Speaks blog. You'll be glad you did! 

Enjoy!

Mondo Round-Up: Goodbye 2013

Holidays like New Years can have a lot of mixed emotions. For some, it's an exciting time for an alcohol and stupid party hat induced revery. For others, it's the lingering reminder of all the stuff you wanted to, maybe even vowed, to accomplish that never happened. Call it ghosts of holiday resolutions. It used to be one of the most dreaded of holidays for me, but over the past few years, that anxious knot has dwindled down to more of a thoughtful observation and a low burning sensation that inevitably bleeds into ambition. “Failure” is the best opportunity to recycle the past and focus on the fresh, pristine white page in front of you.

For me, this has been an amazing year of seeds planted. Some big projects were put on hold, but potential bigger ones have started to take shape. All the 2012 superstitious fears are laid to waste as life keeps on and on again with the big message here is to never let fear rule you. Remember kids, the worst strain of regret is for the things you never did. And before I devolve into doing some hideous karaoke version of the Butthole Surfers “Sweat Loaf,” here is a Mondo Link round-up for your reading and visual pleasure! 

Happy New Years and let's make every moment smoke and sparkle in 2014!

 Movie Morlocks Tribute to Jess Franco

Beyond Blood Feast: The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis

Mondo Round-UP: Who the Fuck is Madison? Edition 

The Candy Web & William Castle Tribute!

Rupert Pupkin Speaks: Underrated Dramas & Underrated Horror

Lost Art of Flying Saucer Rock &Roll: Ghastly Love of Johnny X

Wet Nights on Neon Grounds: BillMilling's Oriental Blue

Paracinema's Notes from the Backroom

Fish Heads & Meat Babies: The MusicVideos of Barnes & Barnes

Mondo Round-Up: Grooving in Green Edition

As the ever looming specter of crass holiday infused commercialism and the Carnival of Souls-esque faces of your fellow shoppers appear on the horizon, I have been cocooning myself with the usual one-two punch of writing and culture. Hey, it beats the heck out of dodging the soulless playing grabby-grab to the tune of canned Christmas music straight out of Dante's lake of ice. 

 

The latest for Dangerous Minds is up! Being a fan of Barnes & Barnes for years, it was great getting to delve into their long out of print but worth seeking out VHS, “Zabagabee.” “Zabagabee” is not just any garden variety music video compilation but instead is a treasure chest of strange celebrities, ranging from Larry “Wild Man” Fischer to Shirley Jones to Woody Herman, with each one bridging the music clips together. Barnes & Barnes have never really gotten the respect that they deserve, since the masses tend to always overlook artists that are perceived as “novelty.” If you're one of those, then maybe this piece and “Zabagabee” can both change your mind. 

Speaking of music, I recently have rediscovered my love for the UK band The March Violets. Originally rising out of the post-punk ether along with contemporaries like Sisters of Mercy, this is a band I listened to a lot in my late teens, thanks in part to scoring a vinyl import copy of their album “Natural History” from a friend. Maybe the graying of days with the onset of Winter has something to do with it, but I had this urge recently to listen to them again and discovered that not only the original core of the band reformed but they have new material out! Even better is that what I have heard from their newest album, “Made Glorious,” is quite good. Also, the two forces of nature behind the March Violets, Rosie Garland and Simon Denbigh are highly impressive people. In addition to their musical talents, Garland is a published writer whom under the name “Rosie Lugosi” is a self-proclaimed “lesbian vampire poet” and Denbigh is skilled in the art of forging swords and armor.

After writing my tribute to the late, great Lou Reed, I finished it in the hopes of being able to stay away from anything death related for a long time. But that was not to be when I saw the news of uber-character actor Tony Musante passing away at the age of 77. Acting in everything from Argento's giallo classic “Bird With the Crystal Plumage” to HBO's “Oz,” Musante has a huge place in my heart for his role as captivating sociopath Joe Ferrone in 1967's “The Incident.” In a film brimming with great performances, Musante is king and once you see him in this film, you will never ever forget him. Musante was a master and will definitely be missed, especially in my household.

Keep an eye out for upcoming links and posts covering the fine directorial work of Eric Edwards, the beautiful mad genius of Michael Findlay, more cinematic goodies from Vinegar Syndrome and much, much more!

Mondo Round-UP: The Fan Continuum

The beast that is fandom can be a three-headed monster. It's one a lot of us have in our hearts, too. Feeling fascination and passion for art is nothing to be ashamed of. Naturally, it is one of the purest things that fuels one to create, whether it is writing, painting, etc etc. Where things can get sticky is when the ugliest of the three-heads emerges; the fan ownership.

I'm sure you have seen this pop up on assorted message boards and social media sites like Tumblr, YouTube and Facebook. Someone posts a clip from a movie or concert and then instantly gets irate if someone else posts the same clip. All this despite the fact that person #1 didn't direct, shoot, produce or star in said clip. I've even seen some “fans” go so far to put ugly, cumbersome watermarks on videos that they basically got from someone else. Which is even more ridiculous when you get into the whole bootleg realm.

Entitlement isn't always just for the fans. With writers and journalists, the pissing contest can extend to subject matter, as if only one person can cover one specific thing. How boring would that be? Information is for the masses and I am more than happy to wave my proletariat flag on that. If anything, I love seeing other writers tackle films that I have written about. Case in point, the always fabulous and ultra-bright Gore Gore Girl's meticulously thoughtful write-up of Radley Metzger's “BarbaraBroadcast.” Seeing a good writer explore any subject is a joy and anyone that gets territorial in a huffy, petty way is tantamount to a small-peckered man buying a Hummer. If you're confident with your ability, then you have nothing to worry about. Any artist/writer that feels threatened by another really needs to examine their own emotions of self-worth. After all, the outside world makes it hard enough on the expressive, so the time is nigh for artists to put aside the small-minded bullshit and support each other. Save the nastiness for the printed page, canvas, sound, stage and screen.

As for the fans, if one really wants to feel true ownership of something, then create your own art. It's relaxing, restorative and will make you look less like an entitled wanker.

 Going back to “Barbara Broadcast,” it is the perfect film to start off the new monthly feature, Notes from the Back Room, over at Paracinema. There's a legion of titles that went through my head to start off these proceedings, but between Distribpix's recent super-lush release and an A+ cast that includes C.J. Laing, Wade Nichols, Bobby Astyr, Michael Gaunt and Annette Haven, the choice was obvious. (By the way, if you're Radley Metzger/Henry Paris admirer, you can also read my pieces on Camille 2000, Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann, Naked Came the Stranger and Opening of Misty Beethoven.)

If you're feeling some Halloween withdrawal, check out my review of the gonzoid-monster kid underground film, “Geek Maggot Bingo” over at Dangerous Minds. This could possibly be the most overlooked and unappreciated film in the Nick Zedd filmography, so throw on your K-Tel “Haunted Hits” compilation and your “Zacherley for President” button and enjoy the show.

Weekly Mondo Round-Up: The Bang Bang Edition

The past few weeks have been extremely exciting for fringe culture fans everywhere. For those in the know, the uber-fantastique film festival, L'Etrange just wrapped up, with one of its best line-ups ever. The festival included showings of Frank Henenlotter's incredible looking documentary “That's Sexploitation,” John Waters “Desperate Living” (my personal favorite of his), tributes to “Last Horror Film” star Caroline Munro  and even a showing of Erich von Stroheim's “Foolish Wives.” Of course, the granddaddy move was the focus on the work of Stephen Sayadian, with each film being presented by the man himself. Getting to see an artist I admire greatly get this kind of recognition is a huge joy. For the curious, there's also a good interview up on Twitch.

My only problem with a lot of the press, which has honestly been wonderful, is that I think we can officially kill the term “porn” when talking about an artist like Sayadian. If you're gonna call films like “Cafe Flesh” porn, then you better call “In the Realm of the Senses” and “Anatomy of Hell” porn too. Now, there's nothing inherently wrong with porn in and of itself. Not at all, but there is an ocean of difference between films like “Nightdreams” and say, “Anal Angels 9.” If guys like Sayadian or say, Gerard Damiano, were European and had bigger budgets, the porn term never would have been applied. It's a classist move, after all no one calls Egon Schiele a pornographer, even though he featured erotic themes in his artwork. To me, nudity and sexuality do not make automatically make something pornography.  

 

Speaking of thrilling artists, the news of Alejandro Jodorowsky's new film, “The Dance of Reality” has emerged, along with a trailer that looks like it is going to be yet another masterpiece from the man. The imagery already brings to mind both “Santa Sangre” and “Viva la Muerte,” which was helmed by Jodorowsky collaborator and fellow Panic movement founder Fernando Arrabal. 

Another new development, at least on my end, was a highly rewarding trip to the local used bookstore. After looking through the Art books for a minute, I immediately bee lined it to the film section. For a minute, it appeared be the usual one-two-three punch of dry academic journals on Truffaut and general movie review guides, but then I saw it. A hardback copy of “Sex in the Movies” by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons, a book I have read about for years. In fact, it was recommended to me by one of the most brilliant film writers I have ever known, so I knew it was a must have. Now, if that felt like kismet, then what I found almost right next to it was like running into a dear old friend. Another hardbound book entitled “Cut! The Unseen Cinema” by Baxter Phillips. This book is very special to me since it was one that I studied from page to page as a young girl. Covertly, of course, since it is brimming with nudity and violence, as well as images of religious/political subversiveness. On one hand, I was probably way the hell too young to be reading it but on the other hand, I am grateful for the exposure. It was this book that planted some of the key seeds for my development as a film writer. Titles that are huge to me now are mentioned in that book, including Ken Russell's “The Devils” and Walerian Borowcyzk's “La Bete.” I haven't looked at “Cut!” since I was a kid, so finding it again feels like love. 

As for the film writing, if you haven't already, please check out some of the latest for Dangerous Minds. I got to explore the rare landscape of kung fu prurience with “Vixens of Kung Fu: Tale of Yin Yang,” which features an all star cast and some of the dodgiest martial arts this side of your Low Mein buffet. On top of that, I also write about the Mondo occult relic, “Witchcraft '70," which is goony in a swanky-devil-scare sort of way. 

Hope everyone reading this is having a wonderful and safe weekend. Fall's almost here and what better way to celebrate it than watching Iggy Pop on German TV lip syncing around a bunch of confused looking models? Enjoy!

You can also find me on Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest and Google+.

Weekly Mondo Round-Up: The Gorgeous Edition

 My personal film book stash from my teen years.

Sitting in front of my laptop, with my little writing area flanked by masses of DVD's, burning tea candles, an organized chaos of imagery on the wall in front of me and some mid 80's period darkwave playing, I'm reminded of a certain time, just a little over a decade ago. My high school self, typing up a paper of the importance of film as part of my application to the film school at Florida State. I was already accepted to the main University, but was trying desperately to get accepted into their prestigious film school.

It was the strength of that paper that actually got me to the interview process. Family road trip time and I was nervous and rabbity. The interview went horribly, with my admittedly sheltered 17 year old self competing with kids who grew up with access to film and video equipment, as opposed to my very working class, small town background. Even worse, I tried to explain to the group of interviewers, all middle aged white men, of how I was inspired by films like Romero's “Martin” and Von Trier's “Breaking the Waves.” The smuggest looking one in the room actually tried to correct me, stating that the latter film was sexist. Wrap your head around the roundhouse kick of bullshit entailing an older man trying to tell a young lady what he thinks is misogynistic. That's cute but of course my powers of sass and extroversion were fairly hidden at that point because I was still basically a kid.

Long story short, I did not get accepted and I ended up attending (and later dropping out of) a different college. But the weird kismet of life actually worked in my favor. I've been a writer my entire life, with a film book or magazine semi-permanently clutched in my wee, pale hands. But it took the support of some key people in my life, especially my family and good friends Keith & Ben, to basically snap their fingers in front of my face, as if to say “Hey kid, you do this stuff anyways, why not make a career out of it?”

Speaking of writing madness, I have been told that my style of note taking should be photographed, so here you go. Believe it or not, it is very organized, just in my own jigsaw puzzle, stream-of-consciousness sort of way. 

This week I had the total pleasure of not only viewing, but getting to write about Paul Bunnell's incredible “Ghastly Love of Johnny X.” It's a helluva lot of fun, beautifully made and features one atomic cast, including Will Keenan, Reggie Bannister, Creed Bratton, Paul Williams and the late Kevin McCarthy. You can read more of my thoughts on this cool film at Dangerous Minds. 

For anyone who enjoyed the piece I did a few years ago about Cult Epics impressive two disc set dedicated to Gitane Demone, you will be happy to know that she has a new solo album out, entitled "The Reflecting Shadow!" Gitane is a strong musical force, so this is very exciting. After hearing the single for “The Creep,” it is definitely near the top of the list of music to purchase. 

• You can also find me on Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest & Google+. 

 

 

Weekly Mondo Round-Up: One Big Blur Edition

Ever have one of those weeks that is just one long blur? That would be this past week for me. Sadly, it has nothing to do with going all rock-and-roll or committing vast, lurid acts of bad decision fun. If anything, it has more to do with bad sleep. But if there is anything more tedious then having insomnia, it is writing about it, so let's move on.

I've noticed that lately there has been more and more discussion regarding gender and sexism in the fringe film writing field, especially in the horror camp. Over the years, I've been asked occasionally about my own experience being a female writer in a male dominated writing world. It can be weird at times, especially when people try to assign gender to your work. Nobody really asks a male writer to add a “masculine voice” to his work, unless it's for “Macho Beefcake Weekly.” At our core, we are artists before we are anything else. Most guys don't write with their happy equipment and I don't type with my ovaries. (Though if I could, that would be spectacularly impressive!) Don't get me wrong, I am a proud feminist. Granted, I'm the type of feminist that gives more traditional types the hives and I have even been labeled a “bad” one. But I'm not living for them and I wear my love of fringe art on my sleeve. There's nothing more beautifully radical than just being yourself. 

As for sexism, does it exist? Of course, it does, but it is just one part of the experience. For every editor that has talked down to me like I was a poor-dumb-girl, I've had many that have been incredibly cool, smart and progressive. It's like anything else in this world. Most people are fine. Some are awe-inspiring and others are awe-inspiringly stupid, but if we let the hateful and dumb rule our actions, then we have let them win. If someone doesn't want to read or watch your work just because you are a, b or c, then why would you want them as a fan in the first place? Life's too short for that and while it is a cliché, success is the best revenge always. 

For you cult film lovers who have a weakness for revenge-fueled action flicks and strange approximations of the punk subculture, then you will love my latest for Dangerous Minds. This time around, I explore 1990's “Punk Vacation,” another fine release by Vinegar Syndrome. While you're there, check out some of the reader's comments. There is some great info, including mentioning the epic tome Destroy All Movies and even The Dickies appearing on C.P.O. Sharkey. Fabulous.

Keep your peepers open and peeled, since there are some fun things coming up. In the next few days, look for articles on “Oriental Blue,” both a William Castle tribute and a review of “13 Frightened Girls!” for the uber-fantastic William Castle Blog-A-Thon and “The Ghastly Love of Johnny X.”

You can also find me on Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest & Google+.

Weekly Mondo Round-Up: Who the F*$k is Madison?!? Edition

I had a dream last night that was fairly incredible. Well the first half was typical, scary yet kind of boring brain vomit, but the second half involved visiting Henry Miller's watery grave/tribute. (Truth-Henry Miller is not buried in a woodsy lake in the Pacific Northwest.) Said site had an attached gift shop/convenience store that had a separate area for arts and crafts (!) As the tour guide was showing me this section and picking up some of the stone work that a lot of people used to make jewelry, I look up and making this incredible plexiglass/amber piece was Joey Ramone (awesome). Joey pointed out that he was decidedly not making any jewelery but just enjoyed creating little bits of art for the texture. After creating some watercolor paintings on my own, I went into their stock room for something and ran into Bruce Springsteen. Upon meeting the man, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Oh my god, you once met Lester Bangs? What was he like?” After that, I woke up but the chances of me actually saying that to “the boss” in real life are fairly good. (Unlike the odds of me actually meeting Springsteen.) 

                                                          Originally found on Cretin Family.

Speaking of Lester, I've been thinking of the man a lot lately. Granted, that is not entirely unusual since I have been a huge fan for years. Bangs is the type of writer that constantly makes me evaluate my own work. He was able to bring both a hyper-real intelligence, no bullshit quality to his work and yet, never losing any of his warmth or verve. The latter is something a lot of folks don't seem to touch upon with Lester but for someone to write the way he did, they have to truly care. The world of critical writing can be littered with some A-1 wankery, which usually stems from some white-bread type who is stroking his/her own ego. We all have ego but when it comes to creating anything, the work itself should always and eternally be number one and I think with Lester, it was always was. It's a huge crime that he is no longer in this realm. And a total aside, while Lester is by and large known as a music writer, his write-up of Ray Dennis Steckler's "Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies" is hilarious and worth looking up.) 

In a music frame of mind, I would be remiss not to mention the passing of Alan Myers, one of the pioneers who got scalped and drummer for Devo for over ten years. Part of the “classic era,” Myers was unlike any other drummer. He provided the spine for some of Devo's greatest songs. This year has already been rough, after losing Harry Reems, Andy Copp (miss you), Nagisa Oshima, Jess Franco, Ebert, Annette Funicello, Richard Matheson and too many to mention. I hate doing these things to be honest. It always feels like too many people have gone and trying to write the perfect thing to honor a whole lifetime of work feels impossible. It kind of is impossible but to quote a friend of mine, these things are always harder for the living. The best thing anyone can do is to kick extra ass for those who can't.

This past Thursday, I was interviewed once again on my friend Frank Cotolo's internet radio show, The Cotolo Chronicles, discussing zombies. It's funny, since I have been feeling burned out on the subject for quite awhile. But when Frank invited me, I took it as a challenge and ended up getting some different perspectives on the whole thing during my research. There's more to it than just brain eating Romero-styled revenants and Haitian voodoo. Anyways, it was fun and available to listen for anyone who missed the live show. 

Last but certainly not least, please check out my latest for Dangerous Minds. Riding the lost-sexploitation film train from “Sexcula,” this time I explore Vinegar Syndrome's superb release, “The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis.” Their work on restoring and releasing this trio of films, including “The Ecstasies of Women,” “Linda & Abilene” and “Black Love,” is nothing short of stunning. As a huge H.G. Lewis fan and a film preservationist at heart, it feels great to have these previously lost films not only available, but also released with a lot of love and attention. 

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Weekly Mondo Round-Up: Plan 9 From Las Vegas Edition

This has been one of the weeks where wanderlust has been striking me big time. (Note about myself, this happens every other week!) With the heat starting to creep up as the air grows denser, hitting the open road and going out West has never felt more appealing. Driving on the oil-stained highway, throwing on Department of Crooks' criminally underrated “Plan Nine from Las Vegas” and feeling the scorch of burned gas station coffee....it just sounds so perfect. The reality of such an excursion is not possible right now, but at least I have “Plan 9” and endless cups of strong Joe.

Dreams of pavement and open skies aside, I finished and posted a little article on Dangerous Minds about the formerly-lost, Canuxploitation film that combined flesh, fangs and very little filigree, entitled “Sexcula.” As a born and bred preservationist at heart, seeing anything that was originally written off as lost get found is a wonderful feeling. Plus, who doesn't love free loving vampires flashing the peace sign during coitus? It gives me some hope that a print of “Convention City” could still turn up. Dreaming is free.

The great thing, for me at least, about delving into titles like “Sexcula” is it gives me the chance to write and explore the types of cinema that a lot of film writers avoid like the plague. Which is really absurd. A lot of “serious” dramas that garner all sorts of awards are no less exploitative, in fact usually moreso, than most “skin flicks.” Manipulating audiences dramatically is too easy. Most people do not want to see sick children or their sad families, so both are easy elements to throw in. But to actually confront them with anything that truly takes them out of their comfort zone is both brilliant and extremely needed. The only kind of elitism I'll put up with usually involves one of two questions: a) Is the work good? b) Is it interesting?

Anything else usually borders on flat out snobbery and in some instances, cultural classism. Forget it. Who has time for that? 

Speaking of Department of Crooks, let me sing the joys of Marc Moreland. One of THE best guitarists you will ever hear and who will never get some cheesy cover or centerfold in any type of Guitar Monthly magazine. (Yet, if you're a metal guy that goes wheedly-wheedly-wee with your arpeggios, they will soil themselves to kingdom come.) For me the real sign of a genuinely great artist is their thumbprint and with everything that Moreland played on, you can instantly tell it is him. Blending such stellar influences like Ennio Morricone and Dick Dale into his own creative blender, there will never be another like the man. Best known for being in Wall of Voodoo, his side projects are also worth checking out, especially the aforementioned Department of Crooks and his final band, the Marc Moreland Mess.

And if all you know about Wall of Voodoo is “Mexican Radio,” then I beg you to please get your sweaty little mitts on a copy of “Seven Days in Sammystown.” The Andy Prieboy era of that band is brilliant and merits ample listening. 

Upcoming project wise, I'm about to work on a contribution for a special upcoming tribute to one of the greatest showmen in the history of film, as well as the usual one-two step review work. Stay tuned kittens.

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Weekly Mondo Round-Up: Dome of the Spheres Edition

Hello cats and kittens, welcome to a new feature for Mondo Heather. While I'm sure all of you love reading the same articles again for over a month, you deserve some fresh content on a more regular basis. So think of this as a weekly peek into the colorful and occasionally schizoid miasma that is both my life and brain. Sprinkle in some self-promotion for my non Mondo-writing and your ready to strap on your saddles shoes and go!

Something I like to do, especially whenever I'm working on any sizable projects, is throw on a film in the background and then some additional music. Basically, a multimedia melange a go-go. Last night, it was Fellini's classic 8 1/2 with my Ipod mix playing. (We're talking everything from Love & Rockets to The Residents here.) It was a great match and it lent itself well to getting art stuff done. The latter included a collage art book, fashioned from a formerly religiously-themed diary that I got for free back in my retail day job years. I started this back around 2004-5 and finally finished it earlier this week. Writing is always and forever my main love, but the visual arts are an eternal close second. It's tentatively titled “Dome of the Spheres,” inspired by the obscure and lyrically weird song of the same name. It has been one of those projects that I was not sure that I would ever actually finish, so it feels sweet to have the bloody thing done. Woo for productivity!

Speaking of which, the piece covering the “SoftRock” series, created by Actually Huizenga and her partner-in-crime Socrates Mitsios, is finished and live on DangerousMinds. I think Huizenga is one of the most interesting figures, not to mention ballsiest, in music and video out there right now. Most pop tartlets flirt with the whole sexy-girl thing, but Huizenga uses sexuality as a device to be both cheeky and explore some rather dark human territory. 

 One new kid on the film distribution block that is already knocking my socks off is the Vinegar Syndrome. They first came to my attention as the fine folks releasing “The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis,” which includes “Black Love” and “Linda & Abilene,” two films that I NEVER thought I would ever get lucky enough to see. Looking at their small but already growing library, they are one of those rare companies whose entire library is covet-worthy. I'm looking forward to writing about some of their titles in the near further, both here and abroad. Keep your peepers peeled. 

As a whole, this has been one weird week. Some of it stressful, other parts extremely wonderful. No matter what, art and life are what it's all about. 

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