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“Live longer, Live Healthier, and let thy arse make wind! A Video Round-up and Tribute to Timothy Carey”

“Live longer, Live Healthier, and let thy arse make wind! A Video Round-up and Tribute to Timothy Carey”

By Heather Drain

“We slip, we bleed. The truth is, I never really cared about conventional success. I was probably fired more than any other actor in Hollywood.” –Timothy Carey

Very few people have it and most of us do not. It’s the division between the Greek Gods and the mere mortals who are left to the farm, goats and vomitoriums. No, I’m not talking about religion or goat farming, but that tiny handful of artists who are so brilliant that they leave the rest of us in their dust. Years after they are gone into the ether of the afterlife, we are the ones eternally trying to catch up to them. Salvador Dali was one of them, as is Alejandro Jodorwosky, Clu Gulager, Bukowski and most definitely, Timothy Agoglia Carey.

On paper, Carey was a memorable character actor who worked with the likes of Stanley Kubrick (Paths of Glory, The Killing) and John Cassevettes (Minnie & Moskowitz, Killing of a Chinese Bookie). He also had a sizable body of work, often popping up on shows ranging from Gunsmoke to Mannix. The reality is that but so much more. Carey was a maverick of the biggest order and an artist who, like Sinatra, Elvis and Sid Vicious, did it his way. An artist and a man with true huevos who never took the easy way out on anything. This is the fabric, ladies and gents, of someone who will always be my hero.

Carey, as both an actor and director, possessed that incredible, rare human kinesis where you cannot take your eyes off of him for one second. There could be chimpanzees on fire while circus clowns openly weep, but if Carey is anywhere in the shot, he is the man you’re going to be looking at. Physically alone, he stood out. Most screen actors are pretty much on the wee side but not Carey, who was an oak of a man and stood around 6’5. Top that with jet black hair that often transformed itself into a pomp gone to seed (For the perfect example of this, see The World’s Greatest Sinner) and a pair of piercing, light blue eyes and you had a man whose looks alone commanded your attention.

But looks are like icing and are not substantial if you don’t have something underneath it for balance. Carey had that “it” factor, that presence that no amount of training, experience or plastic surgery can give you. It’s like being cool. You’ve either got it or you don’t. Give him a two-minute role in an hour and a half movie and trust that the main thing you will be talking about afterwards will be that guy. There have been and still are some great actors, but a tiny few can even come close to matching Carey’s intensity and sheer brilliance.

Unfortunately, the price one pays often for being ahead of their time is being majorly misunderstood by their peers, bosses and society at large. Eccentric at best and heaven help you if are not wealthy or charming enough to be given that moniker. Artists are communicators and have to fight, sometimes literally, to get their work out there and seen. Not everyone has to love it and in fact, sometimes they will utterly despise it, but if you are able to move their blank-eyed stares into some sort of emotion, then you have success. But people often loathe what they do not understand. Sometimes this is the fault of the filmmaker, but in this instance it’s more of a case of the man being ahead of the game by leaps and bounds.

Judging by his sole completed effort, the life changing The World’s Greatest Sinner and the glimpses of the works in eternal stasis, especially Tweet’s Ladies of Pasadena, Carey’s approach to filmmaking was unlike any others. The biggest fight for any artist, other than the communication breakdown, is being able to have a unique thumbprint. Especially when you realize cinema is often a daisy chain of inspiration. And while I’m sure Carey had his own inspirations, by the time he got behind the camera, every bit of it has his DNA in it a 110%. You can’t even fully compare it to the underground cinema of the time. If anything, Carey influenced a lot of those guys, not the other way around. This film is its own animal, all the way.

Being a real dyed in the wool maverick, Carey was bound to irk some people. There are near legendary stories of Carey pissing off actors ranging from Kirk Douglas, whom starred along side him in Kubrick’s war film Paths of Glory to Seymour Cassell. Why? Because he was some ego driven male diva? No because he tended to overshadow everyone on the screen. This was something never intentional and in fact, part of his drive as an actor was to heighten the quality of whatever project he was working on. It was this lack of ego that makes Carey all the more of a rare creature, especially with actors.

But if Timothy Carey was dynamite as an actor, then he was one neutron bomb of a director. His best-known work and only completed one is the one-of-a-kind religious rock and roller surrealist masterpiece, The World’s Greatest Sinner. The filming reportedly started as early as 1958, wrapped up in ’61 and was debuted in 1962. Watching this movie now is an intense experience but it must have felt like Stravinsky’s riot inducing performance of The Rites of Spring at its debut. This tale of a seemingly normal middle class salesman who turns into rock & roll playing evangelist who changes his name from Clarence to God Hilliard. God’s bad deeds include committing adultery with both an elderly woman and a teenage girl, then becoming completely disenfranchised with his family. The religious imagery is a real standout as well, with the most startling being God challenging the real thing by piercing a Eucharist that ends up bleeding.

This is some heady stuff. Showing something like this now to the unsuspecting spuds could elicit a charged reaction, but back in the early 60’s? Holy shit! Between the smart observations of both the weakness and power of one power-fueled man and an absolutely searing musical performance with a gold suited Carey gyrating to hordes of screaming fans, this is a movie that will brand itself on your psyche for a long, long time. It’s a revolutionary piece of work, then and certainly now.

It’s important to also keep in mind that this is an era where Elvis was censored from the waist down and guys like Pat Boone were raping the catalogs of good rock and roll records to make them less threatening to “proper” white families. A lot of kids today will see someone like the King and wonder what all the fuss is about. But I think anyone seeing Carey’s gyrations and instantly see the almost anihilistic lack of inhibition and fire that is going on in that man. You know, church never moved me that much but World’s Greatest Sinner? You better believe it!

Brothers and sisters, Mr. Timothy Carey was ahead of his time. Too ahead of his time as it turns out, since the film was very poorly received. Even its composer, a young Frank Zappa, famously ripped on it on the The Steve Allen Show. As ubersmart and gifted as Zappa was, he should have known better. This is the man that was responsible for films like 200 Motels , for crying out loud. (For the record, I am actually a Zappa fan and love his music for TWGS.) Carey actually stated on an episode of the West Coast public access show Art Fein’s Poker Party, that the only person that liked TWGS was the equally legendary John Cassevettes. Which is a shame and far from the truth now. At least Cassevettes put his money where his mouth was, since he cast Carey in both Minnie & Moskowitz and the great Killing of a Chinese Bookie. But more importantly, he also gave Carey film and editing equipment, along with trying to help him snag cast, crew and backers. It’s a tragedy that someone as special as Carey had to go through his life often misunderstood by so many.

That said, this is no sob story and someone like Carey deserves something better than trite pathos. His warpath of creative brilliance continued with a string of unfinished projects, starting with Tweet’s Ladies of Pasadena. No amount of description will prepare your eyes for this corneal cornucopia. The basic plot has Carey as the titular Tweet Twig, the only male in a knitting club called “Don’t Drop a Stitch.” He’s surrounded by knitting old ladies, a blowsy weightlifting cockney blonde for a wife (whom at one point bellows “Oh no! More bloomin’ animals!”) and a horde of the aforementioned animals whose nakedness will be clothed by Tweet and his ladies’ creations. If anything will ever make you want to flash your collective asses to network television as a whole, it is knowing that this was turned down. Yes, this was a TV pilot and in my Utopia, this is what would be on TV 24/7. Forget Lost, I’d much rather see Timothy Carey as this lovable bumble Tweet knitting and dressed up as a Native American Indian for no discernable reason. Do not fear Dada, folks.

Another project was A.L. and before you start having images of Franken or Capone drift in your heads, it is LA backwards. Quite fitting given that the plot revolved around a young midwestern couple that gets lost on the Los Angeles freeway while the wife goes into labor. Along the way he runs into your average person wandering the streets of LA; the worker, the illegal immigrant, the bums, the street kids, etc. Undoubtedly, it would have been great especially given that everything happens in one day. This was one of the big projects that Cassevettes tried to get backed for Carey, but was kyboshed when studio execs would only accept it if a lot of changes were made. This was unacceptable for an artist like Carey and the film was never made.

His last big project was a play/film entitled The Insect Trainer, in which he played the lead character, restaurant dishwasher Guasti Q. Guasti ends up being on trial for murder after letting out a ballast of flatulence so strong that it physically knocks over an old woman. Her fall proves to be fatal and at some point, Guasti realizes he has a talent for training insects. The Insect Trainer was inspired by the twin figures of Salvador Dali and Le Petomane, the famous French Fartiste. Footage of this film exists and is certainly very, very high on my personal wish list. Apparently Martin Scorsese donated $3,000 to the production, which just highlights the fact that Scorsese is the real deal. (Taxi Driver alone has forever and always sealed my love for the man. No matter how many times he uses Leonardo Dicaprio in his films.)

Timothy Carey was taken away from this plane on May 11, 1994 after suffering a massive stroke. Our bodies will always ultimately fail us in the end but it is the marks that we leave here that can be the testament of the spirit. Timothy Carey’s legacy is huge, as actor, writer, director and man. He was that rare force of nature whose power and beauty will never be equaled and always admired by anyone smart enough to be open to it.

Now onward ho to the audio/video celebration of this supernova of one man’s vision, talent and spirit. Always remember those that you may write off, so called madmen are sometimes the most perceptive of us all. (Except for that guy in your front yard wearing a ski cap on his genitals and singing “Oh Susanna.” He’s just batshit crazy.)

Anyways, on to the Video Round Up!

Ah yes, the infamous dance from the 1957 drive-in cult classic "Bayou" aka "Poor White Trash." It starts out as cute but as soon as Carey enters the scene, you know you are witnessing something really special. Note the way he grabs on to leading lady Lita Milan's hair, even deftly switching hands when he takes his shirt off. Wow!

 

 

One of my favorite moments in "World's Greatest Sinner." This is one of the most truly rock and roll moments ever committed to celluloid. I would love to watch this scene back to back to the Cramps doing "Tear it Up" from "Urgh! A Music War."

 

 

 

This is like having your psyche hugged by an angel. Enjoy!

 

Carey as "Moose" on the 70's chestnut, "Mannix." Nuff said!

INCREDIBLE clip of Carey on Art Fein's show. Bless this man for sharing such a rare gem with us. Notice the reference to Carey's scene stealing turn in "Beach Blanket Bingo!" And yes, the farting.

Carey's hilarious and demented turn in the Monkees' cult classic "Head." Attaboy Mike!  

Here are some very fascinating links to interviews and articles dealing with the man. 

http://impossiblefunky.blogspot.com/2010/04/evening-with-timothy-carey.html

http://www.absolutefilms.net/tim_carey/chicagodaily.html

http://www.absolutefilms.net/tim_carey/filmfax.html

http://www.filmlinc.com/fcm/1-2-2004/carey.htm

http://www.absolutefilms.net/

 

The Artist Within the Murderer

Art and death are so perfect together that the union at times is wholly symbiotic. Art is all about creation. Some artists even use birth-related terminology when creating new works, such as referring to their various creations as “my children.” Where you have birth, you must have death. Ah yes here they are folks, the bookends of our lives. Death fascinates and frightens us, which is why it can be such a huge thread in so many works of art.

Now there are common ways for death to co-mingle with art. People in their lives die and that naturally will have an effect on their art. The fear of death or even the embracing of it can also be a big ingredient too. But the artist as a man and woman being the literal bringer of death has been a pretty rare thing. You have the obvious examples, like Varg Vikernes from Mayhem and Burzum, Phil Spector and of course ole Charlie Manson.

But to have an actual serial killer get legally released from prison because of the strength of his creative talent is practically unheard of. However that very thing happened in the early 1990’s in Austria with Johann “Jack” Unterweger aka the Poet of Death.

If ever there was one with a classic prone to serial killing childhood, Unterweger was it. His mother had been a prostitute and his father an American soldier that was long out of the picture before his son was officially in the picture. At some point early on, young Johann was abandoned and sent to live with his grandparents. Allegedly, his grandfather was a severe alcoholic with violent tendencies, though Jack’s Aunt came out later on to say that he had a poor but loving upbringing. Whatever the case, he certainly had a troubled childhood that begat a very troubled young man, whose first crime was roughing up a sex worker at age 16.  It was only a matter of time that a serious transgression was bound to happen.

And happen it did, as a young woman was found dead in the woods. According to Unterweger himself, that before his first killing he had already committed numerous rapes and burglaries. It was the murder of 18 year old Margaret Schafer, whom he strangled to death with her own bra, that got him ultimately convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

Where this story starts to get really weird is that going into prison, Unterweger was reportedly illiterate. While there, he began to devour book after book and educated himself, as both a reader and a writer. The even more amazing thing is that he unearthed a talent strong enough that he started to get notice from the outside word. Poems, plays and short prose started coming out of him, but much like Jack Abbot before him, it was his autobiography Purgatory (Fegefeur) that got him the biggest notice and ended up being a bestseller. His work even garnered him literary prizes.

By the time he was up for parole, he had a bevy of prison reformists, writers and critics championing for his release with the reasoning that this sexual sadist and murderer had been reformed by art. This man’s intellect and creativity along with some well meaning but extremely naïve people got him out of prison and back into society.

Jack Unterweger went into prison an illiterate, poor, ex-pimp psychopathic murderer and came out a media darling and was immediately welcomed into high moving social circles. Book launches and society parties all welcomed the now stylish and handsome ex-criminal. Fegefeur even became a movie, making Unterweger one of the few serial murderers to have a writing credit on the IMDB. To anyone with any real logic about crime, it will come as absolutely no shock that prostitutes started showing up dead yet again in Vienna, a city with a usually very low crime rate towards sex workers in general.

The police suspected him immediately, but despite the surveillance, they couldn’t nail him on any suspicious behavior. Of course, Unterweger, like a lot of serial murderers was far from stupid and knew better than to do anything shady as the heat grew. Also like a lot of his fellow bloodthirsty spiritual kin, he quickly got very cocky, even challenging police about what they were going to do about this string of fresh murders. All of this bravura being displayed under the guise of a probing journalist. An act such as that either signifies brass balls or brass ignorance. In Unterweger’s case, it was a little bit of both.

Nevertheless the police had nothing solid on him until Unterweger flew to Los Angeles for research on an article about crime for a local Austrian magazine. During this five week period, the killings in Vienna stopped and suddenly three prostitutes were found strangled with their own garments in the City of Lost Angels. What followed after this was a fascinating case of hubris and fear, with the collaborative efforts of the Austrian police and the LAPD ultimately sealing Unterweger’s fate. He was convicted of murdering 9 women and was sent to prison, where he hung himself with some string he pulled out of his jumpsuit. The ultimate irony was that he utilized the very knot that he had used to murder so many women on himself.

 Falco looking uber-suave.

There is something else tied to this figure that makes the story even stranger, all thanks to the very unlikely form of Austrian pop star Falco. In 1985, he released his massively successful Falco 3 album, which included his biggest known song “Rock Me Amadeus.” Also on that album was a creepy and completely overlooked in the US pop song called “Jeanny.” (In fact, it was never released in the United States as a single, despite it being huge in Europe.) This song, inspired by the Unterweger murders, went all the way to number one in Austria, Germany, Sweden, Norway, Switzerland and the Netherlands. All that despite being banned by some radio stations and being protested by various groups, including some dumb “feminists.” (Side note, I am a proud feminist but I do not need a bunch of reactionary fundamentalists trying to represent me and my biology. Just saying.) 

Eerie Picture Sleeve for the "Jeanny" Single

  Falco is an underrated artist, especially in this country where he pretty much is regarded as a “one-hit wonder,” despite having some moderate success with both “Der Kommisaar” and “Vienna Calling.” He did some really strange things under the pop music umbrella that still makes him stand out and “Jeanny” is further proof of this. The chorus is in English while the spoken word parts are in German, giving the listener a weird dysphoria especially given how near desperate sounding the speaker sounds. Just one look at the lyrics should tell you that this is not your momma’s pop tune:

NOTE: Lines in italics were in English in the original German version.

Jeanny, Jeanny...

[spoken] Newsflash, newsflash...

“Official government reports...” (all in English)

Jeanny, Jeanny...

Jeanny, come, come on
Stand up please
You're getting all wet
It's getting late, come
We must leave here
Out of the woods
Don't you understand?

Where is your shoe?
You lost it
When I had to show you the way
Which of us lost?
You, yourself?
I, myself?
Or... we ourselves?

Jeanny, quit livin' on dreams
Jeanny, life is not what it seems
Such a lonely little girl in a cold, cold world
There's someone who needs you
Jeanny quit livin' on dreams
Jeanny, life is not what it seems
You're lost in the night
Don't wanna struggle and fight
There's someone who needs you

It's cold
We must leave here
Come
Your lipstick is smeared
You bought it and
And I saw it
Too much red on your lips
And you said, “Leave me alone”
But I saw right through you
Eyes say more than words
You need me, don't you, hmmmh?
Everyone knows, that we're together
From today,
Now I can hear them, they are coming!

They're coming!
They are coming to get you.
They won't find you.
Nobody will find you!
You're with me.

Jeanny quit livin' on dreams...

[spoken] Newsflash:
In the last months the number of missing persons has dramatically increased. The latest account from the local police reports another tragic case. It is a matter of a nineteen year old girl who was last seen two weeks ago. The police have not excluded the possiblity that a crime has been committed.

Jeanny...

Jeanny, quit livin' on dreams...

Pleasant dreams, right? The best part is that the video is equally unsettling with Falco playing the part of the predator. For anyone used to seeing the man all suave and dapper will be very surprised as Falco lets go of the pop ego and immerses himself into character. It’s actually reminiscent of Golden Earring’s brilliant and disturbing clip for “When the Lady Smiles” minus the black humor. There’s no humor here to cushion just subtle queasiness, especially when thinking about the true crime connection to boot. 

Sadly, Falco left this plane on February 6^th, 1998 after having a fatal auto collision in the Dominican Republic. But he got to leave behind a truly special thumbprint in the pop landscape of the 80’s. It’s sad to think of some of the crap that hit it big in the US while “Jeanny” was darkening up the European airwaves and dancefloors.

As for Jack Unterweger, perhaps one of the best lessons that one can learn from this is the importance of separating the art from the artists. Phil Spector is a genius that forever changed the soundscape of music but he is also an egomaniacal, abusive individual who murdered Lana Clarkson. Roman Polanski has made some of the best films in the past fifty years but he also drugged and raped a 13 year old girl. And yes, despite what the Modern Lovers claim, a lot of people called Pablo Picasso an asshole. Every human being on this planet is capable of great acts of kindness and beauty as well as total horror. Even the Nazis had loved ones and pets and there are no born monsters, just man-made ones. 

For more information about this case, check out Katherine Ramsland's, author of the excellent Piercing the Darkness, in-depth article here. 

Seltsame Soda !

Spring is here and we have another installment in the "long awaited" series of weird soda reviews. Your mouth is dry so let it be moistened with the cola flavored brew from the Sprecher Brewing company. Tonight's unique soda is the wonderfully titled Puma Kola. Enjoy!

Puma Kola

Description: An all natural “gourmet soda” that is fire-brewed in a gas-fueled kettle for “distinctive flavor and character.” A semi-healthy alternative to mainstream colas featuring a cute yet surprised looking black puma with big fangs. Yes and you too dear drinker will be surprised by the weird jungle bite of this drink.

Fun Facts: This soda features kola extract, real vanilla, pure honey, yucca extract and a pinch of cinnamon. Unfortunately it also has high fructose corn syrup, which is known, around these parts as giving you “el grande liver.” That said yucca extract is reputed to have some health benefits ranging from hair growth to relieving sore muscles. Who knew?

The Gist: Fancypants soda that offers you better ingredients than your average soda.

The Smell: Like a sweet but oh so slightly medicinal version of Coke.

The Taste: The initial reaction is cola but that is immediately followed by a partially potent sweet aftertaste. But it’s a thick kind of sweet, not unlike you get with artificial sweeteners though thankfully not as foul.

Overall: It’s all right and gets the job done if you are looking for a cola with a slight bite to it. Honestly, I didn’t care for the aftertaste and if I were going to go the Fructose route I would rather have a bottle of Bawls or a good old-fashioned coke.

2 ½ Worried looking Pumas out of 5

Death to False Vampires!

I’m a firm believer that one of the most pressing matters in our society today is the pussification of..well….everything. Playgrounds are totally kid-proofed, so gone are the days of big metal slides and swingsets, yet in a swift move of retardation, a lot of them have kept those wood chips that are fantastic for nasty splinters and eye gougings. But hey, at least you won’t have a bruised knee! Mainstream creative culture is massively guilty of this and no creature has been hit harder than the vampire.

Bela Lugosi in Tod Browning's 1931 classic, "Dracula."

The mythology and belief in the vampire, in all of its assorted forms, is ancient. In fact, the Greeks believed that having red hair was a symptom of vampirism. (Yes, we ginges have been discriminated against for a longass time.) The Lamia were believed to be women who wore snake skin and were used as a threat by parents to keep their kids in check. The lamia are even connected to Lilith, who was believed to be the biblical Adam’s first wife who was run off because of her unwillingness to submit to him. The Ewe people in West Africa believed that vampires could take the form of fireflies and specifically prey on their young. Now, is anyone going to use some glittery, metrosexual dandy to scare their hell spawn into cleaning their room? Hell no!

How did these creatures of the night go from being baby eating, blood slurping, vein eating, fanged, hideous monsters to Teen Beat fodder? While Twilight (2008) might seem like the obvious example, the direct root lies more with Anne Rice’s group of beautiful and tragic creatures. But at least Rice’s vampires had literal fangs and were halfway complex creatures capable of real villainy. (Except for Louis, who was a bonafide pussy that should have jumped into the sun before the second book was even published.) The vampire with human type fragility has popped up in great movies (Herzog’s 1978 remake of Murnau’s classic Nosferatu), underrated TV series (Forever Knight) and entertaining, though highly flawed films (Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula.)

The main cast of the vastly underrated "Forever Knight."

Truth be told, any Twilight hater out there could also probably blame Joss Whedon and the success of his shows, Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel. Of course, this can get a bit like the bible. Todd Browning’s Dracula (1931) begat Terrence Fisher’s The Horror of Dracula (1958) which begat Dan Curtis’s Dark Shadows (1966) which begat Forever Knight (1989) which ultimately begat Angel (1999), who was begat by Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1997). Yes, it can all make one’s head explode into a sanguine froth, but the creative arts in general are like this.

But you know who truly is to blame? It’s not Rice or Whedon, especially since both have done some good work and are capable of talent. It’s not even Stephenie Meyer, the creator of the Twilight books. Heck, seeing people, certainly kids, getting excited about reading is reassuring and gives writers like myself some hope. No, it’s the one-two punch of public demand and the major studios. The public needs to demand vampires with fangs and balls. If you want great cinema in general, then demand it because money talks. And for my money, one of the best vampire films in the past 20 years was the underrated Subspecies (1991).

Radu was charismatic and ghoulish. He had a heart but he also delighted in such wonderful activities as staking his own brother and then drinking his blood as it spurted out of his quickly decaying chest. Now that is a proper vampiric protaganist! Not to mention his striking physical appearance, with the long, spindly claw-like fingers of Nosferatu and the skin color and lanky hair of someone who has been in an eternal stasis of rot. It’s been noted that the hair and nails continue to grow post mortem, which is the visual effect you get with Radu. Having a highly talented Dutch actor in the form of Anders Hove doesn’t hurt any and he is able to give the monster a human side without sacrificing any of his nightmarish qualities, which is exactly how it should be.

Of course in this era of severe media retardation, ghouls don’t really sell that well to the libidos of adolescent girls or middle-aged women. Radu didn’t have six-pack abs nor was he some kind of sad panda-faced dandy. You can couple that with the character being in a low budget, independent film and it’s no surprise that people do not mention the name Radu next to wimps like Louis or any of the Twilight twinks. All that said, the Subspecies series does not get enough love. The first three films are highly recommended and really managed to blend the gothic imagery of the classics of vampire cinema with an old European world approach to the undead.

Radu, the main anti-hero from Full Moon's Subspecies series.

Which brings me to the aforementioned Bram Stoker’s Dracula. On one hand, it is visually lavish with one of the best cinematic scores courtesy of Polish composer Wojciech Kilar. Half of the cast are terrific, especially Tom Waits as the best Renfield this side of Dwight Frye and Klaus Kinski, the always dependable Richard E. Grant as Dr. Seward and Gary Oldman as the titular character. Despite the mention of Stoker in the title, this version is about as far removed from the classic piece of literature as the 1931 Lugosi film. Stoker was totally a creature of his environment and being a Victorian gentleman, the film’s romanticism and positive eroticism of the monster that is Dracula would have more than likely repelled him.

There is an underlying sensuality to the novel’s vampires, but it is a polluted one. Sexuality back then was something that was viewed as poisonous that if unbridled in any way could lead to disease and downfall. Some have theorized that the vampire is a metaphor for venereal disease and it is not a far out theory when dealing with this classic Victorian novel. Mina Harker is the prototype of the ideal Victorian woman, which makes Dracula attacking her all the more horrific, even if it is inadvertently dirty and sexual.

Coppola’s Mina is a winsome tart that is played horribly by Winona Ryder. She is to Mina what Kevin Costner was to Robin Hood. She looks lovely but was very ill suited acting ability wise for this character. This is especially obvious next to Sophie Ward’s Lucy, who is not only authentically British but actually has a natural warmth on screen. There’s nothing wrong with Mina having a sensuality to her but the problem is that Ryder is inherently an un-sexual performer. Peta Wilson had way more heat as a half-breed vampire version of Mina in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) and was more compelling to boot. Ryder is just too bland and underdeveloped. Why would a guy like Dracula be excited by her? Jonathon Harker maybe, especially when he is played by the equally thespian challenged Keanu Reeves, but not some powerful, supernatural creature like Dracula.

Keanu would do anything for love but he won't do that.

Speaking of Reeves, the whole scene with him and the three oversexed vampire brides has moments of unintentional hilariousness, especially when he starts screaming. It’s eerily similar to one’s half-baked roommate finding out that their dog ate the rest of their stash.

One of the most annoying things about Coppola’s retelling, though, is the whole “love never dies” ploy. Granted the romanticism has garnered it a lot of fans and with better writing and a better lead actress, it could have really worked. Oldman is fantastic as this haunted creature that is still at heart a lonely man. In fact, while there are things I absolutely love about this movie, it is often frustrating because of the promise it holds and yet doesn’t automatically deliver. Plus Stoker’s name never should have been added to the title. Seeing a bad actor get his nipple licked was probably never on Stoker’s agenda for his masterwork.

Eileen Daly as vampire hitwoman Lilith Silver in the cult classic Razorblade Smile.

One 90’s era vampire film that did deliver all the goods in spades was Jake West’s Razorblade Smile. It’s a helluva lot of fun and manages to balance the gothic trappings of the myth while incorporating bits of wit and Hollywood action film style violence. Eileen Daly stars as Lilith Silver, a raven-haired beauty who is a sexy assassin with a brain who is constantly trying to stave off boredom, whether it is having bloody lesbian sex or bumping off members of the Illuminati.

To properly cover all the great, flawed and horrible vampire films out there, one would and many have, written books about it. The undead in cinema has made circular progressions; going from monster to sexy monster to sexy romantic monster and back to monster all over again. Whether it is the bloodthirsty and captivating creatures from True Blood to the boy band twinkleness of the Twilight films, it will be interesting to see what the cinematic landscape holds for one of the oldest mythological creatures.

Bonus! My Personal Top 10 Favorite Vampires Films*

1. Martin
2. Subspecies 1, 2, and 3 (tie)
3. Nosferatu (Murnau original)/Nosferatu (Herzog Remake) (tie)
4. Near Dark
5. Dracula (1931)
6. Blood for Dracula
7. Razorblade Smile
8. Blood and Donuts
9. Lips of Blood
10. Fright Night

The amazing John Amplas in one of the best films to have come out in the past 50 years, George Romero's Martin.

*My opinion is known to change according to mood, the position of the moon and how much my memory is willing to behave. Some honorary mentions should go to Taste of Blood, anything Franco has done, House of Dark Shadows, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Dance of the Damned, Love at First Bite (I actually had a crush on Arte Johnson as a kid because of this movie), Sundown: the Vampire in Retreat, The Return of the Vampire, Rockabilly Vampire among many others.

The infamous Project:Vampire. The cover would be cool if this was really bad early 90's porn, which is an insult to really bad early 90's porn. Ugh.

My Personal Top 7 Worst Vampires Films Ever or How I Stopped Worrying and tried to be more discriminating.

1. Project: Vampire
2. Dracula 2000 (Good basic story idea horribly raped and mutilated by lazy filmmaking. Plus why does Dracula like Monster Magnet? Wouldn’t he be more into something genuinely good and dark, like Christian Death or Bauhaus? Kiss my ass! TM Whitney Houston)
3. Witchcraft 7: Judgment Hour (Yes this is a vampire film and yes it is god-awful. It will make you hunger for the mise en scene of Night Eyes 2.
4. Blade
5. Queen of the Damned (Despite my snarking on dandies, I did enjoy “Interview with the Vampire” but this piece of simpy crap was terrible. Jonathon Davis??? Really??? Why did the production people hate Lestat that much?)
6. It’s a Troma film that I dare not type its name because just doing so could possibly send me into that spicy mix of anger and narcolepsy. Have you ever tried flipping off the TV while sinking into uncontrollable slumber? I don’t recommend it and I refuse to give them any publicity.
7. Subspecies 4 (While the first three are exceptional films, the fourth one is severely lacking with them neutering Radu and Ash, the Jonathon Morris character from Full Moon’s Vampire Journals (1997), being equally diminished. The crossover potential of characters was great but ended up being a huge let down.)

Open the New Year with a can of Whoop Ass!

Life can be a beautiful thing, especially when one can utter the phrase "opening a can of Whoop Ass" and mean it literally. Yes, in addition to covering fringe cinema and often overlooked music, I occasionally have dipped my toes in the fructose waters of strange soda reviews. So what better way to get things started then with the Jones soda product, Whoop Ass.





Description: An energy drink that features Taurine, Royal Jelly and the sinister sounding Inositol. (Sounds like something that gives you anal bleeding and sexual dysfunction, doesn’t?)

Also features a pretty kicky label design that is anime-esque, minus the 12-year-old girls being assaulted by lurid tentacles.


Fun Fact: Taurine is an amino acid like compound that helps absorb fat. It also has been related to congestive heart failure. Good times.

Royal jelly has been used to treat such ailments as asthma and Inositol has been connected to war crimes in the past 20th century. Fun fun!


The Gist: Apparently revitalizes attitude and Restores faith in mankind.


The Taste: Different.

The first second, it is almost sweet but then features the classic bitterness of energy drinks, which tends to taste like a combo of citric acid and a fairly potent cough drop. That said, Whoop Ass is a little more punchy and soda-like than say, Red Bull or that Sobe black can crap. The more I drink it, the more it reminds me of an alcoholic version of the bastard child of Fresca, Zima and an old Halls mint. Not that I have tried such a cocktail. No siree.


Overall: A tad bit disappointing, given the cool name and all. But it does feature a great design and has a nice energy kick, even for a hardened caffeine fiend like myself. While my attitude isn’t revitalized and my faith in humanity is still fairly shaky, I probably won’t sleep until four in the morning. Yay Whoop ass!



Rating: Three Caffeine-Induced Bouts of Insomnia out of Five


By the way, for the culinary curious out there, Whoop Ass is still in print and can be bought off the Jones Soda website.

Happy Holidays Friends and Fiends!!!

Here's to everyone who reads this having a great, peaceful and loving holiday. For those of you with dysfunctional family members, which is about 99% of us, remember that the good lord invented liquor for good reasons. So either way, curl up with a warm glass of something yummy, throw on some Martin Denny holiday music and embrace the fact that a new year is coming.

To keep the festive vibe going, here's my new favorite holiday song, courtesy of musician/drag artist/actress Jackie Beat with the soon-to-be-standard, "Santa's Baby." Enjoy and be safe everybody!