You know that dreadful moment of self-recognition in which you become acutely aware that you've accidentally tumbled headlong down the Wikipedia rabbithole? Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about... I'm talking about that VERY moment you realize that an hour ago you set out simply to confirm what year "Bust A Move" came out because this butthorn you're having a beer next to at the bar SWEARS it was 1986 when you KNOW it was 1989... And the next thing you know, after a few dalliances into Eskimo ice-fishing techniques, Machu Picchu, Sumo wrestling weight classifications, Pistol Pete Maravich and more, you've ultimately read 5,000 words on the subject of Finnish basket-weaving in the 14th century.
... Well I had one of those experiences the other day.
It all started so innocently (it usually does).
First a little background though... A friend and musician I know recently bought one of the great artifacts of 1980's music: THE YAMAHA DX7!
For those of you who don't know, the DX7 is perhaps the synthesizer most commonly associated with pop music from the 1980's. Its famous patches often sound like a kind of synthetic electric piano and its sound derives from what was, at the time, a new kind of digital synthesis unique to the device. Whether or not you're aware of its existence, you've definitely heard it on countless recordings, some of which you may even love. Its distinctive sound is one you can quickly begin to recognize once you understand its characteristics.
For example, this great song is chock full of some DX7.
... Basically, if you want to make some syrup-y, 80's pop cheese, the DX7 is your weapon of choice.
Well, reading about this synthesizer on Wikipedia is precisely the kind of slippery internet slope that has a way of making my day a lot less productive, because it's only a matter of time before I've watched a handful of 1980's music videos and finally arrive at something as baffling as this (and DO watch it if you intend to read more)...
I'm pretty sure I instantly watched this video 3 or 4 times in a row. I was transfixed.
Yes... Go West. Those wonderful, British purveyors of 1980's montage music that we all remember so well. They of Pretty Woman soundtrack fame... They who sold 4 million copies of their album Indian Summer on the strength of this particular song, "The King Of Wishful Thinking".
Let me start by saying that while it might not be the best, most tasteful production I've ever heard, this isn't really a bad song and I'm not here to make fun of it or trash talk it or anything of the sort. When I was a kid, my mother loved it - And seriously, what child of the 80's doesn't have fond memories of songs like this one? (And while it does deserve note that the song actually came out in 1990, I imagine most people would guess it came out anywhere between 88-92... Plus, everybody knows the 80's actually lasted until about 1994... But then again, that's a different conversation entirely.) ... Anyways, unless you're some sort of self-aware prick who's too cool for school, you should be real with yourself and feel no shame admitting that this song is A. An undeniably well-built piece of pop craftsmanship, B. Catchy as fuck, and C. A complete success at everything it's trying to do well; namely at being a huge, chart-destroying slice of shameless fun. I have no problem with any of these things.
In fact, I don't really have a problem with anything going on here. I am completely on-board with this music video and its manic, anything-goes narrative and one way or another, I'll ultimately give you a number of reasons why.
First things first though, why don't we get to know the stars of our show. According to Wikipedia, our two musical auteurs in question are known to their mothers as Peter Cox and Richard Drummie (As an aside, there's an absolute shitstorm of dick jokes to be made out of these guys' names, right?). Anyways, they are the principal members of Go West.
... And here they are, presumably in earlier years (Drummie left and Cox right).
Next, let's talk about the cocaine, because we are dealing with the 80's (early 90's) here. While I have absolutely no concrete evidence on the subject of Go West and their purported use of narcotics or illegal substances, the question really does beg to be asked: Just how much blow do you think it takes for a room full of adult creatives with a late-80's, major label video budget to conceive some shit like this and follow it through to completion? Where should we set the over/under? 5 grams? At what point in the conversation does the suit at the label step in and say, "wait a second guys, let me get this clear... You want to fill a room with ballerinas, hockey players, an elephant doing a headstand, a mariachi band, a zebra wrangler, and what seems like a hodgepodge of semi-coherent ideas my 4th grade son dreamt up? ... Well, I think that's a fucking BRILLIANT idea and more than anything, a fantastic use of our budget..."?
Well friends, luckily for you, I have an answer to that question... Because I alone (somewhere in the murkiest, most downtrodden Hollywood gutter) managed to uncover the long lost transcript of the legendary creative briefing which led to the creation of this music video... And I've transcribed the entire thing for you.
BEHOLD...
(The scene: 1989. Somewhere in a swank Hollywood conference room, in front of an enormous pile of cocaine sits Suit, Cox, and Drummie... As Legend would have it.)
Suit (who takes a MASSIVE line off the table and stands up, arms wide open): "Gentlemen!!! Welcome to Hollywood. What would you like to do? The sky's the limit boys. You're fucking GO WEST."
Cox (proceeding with a line of his own, and speaking in the Queen's English): "Well, sir, and if I may be frank, we wanna go all Fellini with this bitch. We wanna transform a simple white room into a phantasmagorical circus of entertainers and eccentrics which crescendos into an overflowing spectacle of sights, sounds and characters... You know, basically like the end of 8 1/2. We wanna make 8 1/2."
Suit (incredulously): "Wait a second... You guys are into Fellini?!"
Drummie (doing his first line, and also speaking in his elegant mother tongue): "Well, I mean, I thought Satyricon was SHIT, but you know... We made Bangs & Crashes, so even the greats misstep from time to time, know what I mean? ... But yeah, I fancy myself something of an expert on the subject of post-Neorealist Italian cinema... FUCK yes."
Suit (doing his second line): "You learn something new every day... Well I like where this is going boys, and I've got a blank check with your name on it. Tell me more."
Cox: "Well ya see, my mate Drummie is somethin' wicked on the stand-up bass so I figured we could, like, you know... Give the man a little shine while he's doin' his thing... Takin' that bass for a walk, if you're speaking my language..."
Cox: "... And ya know what... Thinking about it now, if we can put the man in biker shorts and a baggy, mustard yellow top from Z Cavaricci Off The Rack, I see no reason why we shouldn't."
Suit: "Wait a second though, let's not get ahead of ourselves... There's a stand-up bass part in that song?!"
Cox: "Fuck no there's no stand up bass in that song!"
Drummie (chopping up the next line and cackling diabolically): "Hehehe-"
Cox: "You know what though? Fuck it. I reckon this video may as well showcase the entire spectrum of Go West's mind-fucking performance chops, whether the song requires us to or not. And because I say so. Look..."
"There I am, gettin' busy on the drums..."
"... My man Drummie'll set those keys a'twinkle."
"... Dude can even shred the funky, chicken-scratch guitar licks."
Suit (taking a line): "Those ARE funky licks."
Drummie (vigorously taking the line he just chopped up and looking up, eyes glazed and wide-open): "You're GODDAMN right they are."
Cox: "It doesn't even matter... Fuck it, we'll style the entire shoot."
Drummie (taking another line): "I don't even give a FUCK."
Suit: "Whoa, hold up. You guys are stylists too?"
Cox: "Let me ask you this, suit... What about this fucking persian blue blazer I'm wearing might suggest I'm anything short of a master fucking stylist?"
Suit: "Uhhhh-"
Cox (taking another line): "... And that's before we even BEGIN to talk about the effortlessness of Drummie's contemporary, backward/side-cocked hat-meets leather jacket-meets biker shorts combo."
Suit (taking a line): "It's fuckin' genius guys, I don't even know what to say... Other than that I'm picking up what you blokes are putting down. But I somehow want more. This is the 80's, man. I want more. MORE, Goddamnit... MORE!!!"
Cox (taking another line): "Look man, our treatment calls for the following..."
"A stand-in for Julia Roberts... Because I'm sure-as-shit not gonna pay that bitch, and neither is Drummie."
"... And since we're on the subject of "Pretty Woman", get me a budget-level Roy Orbison and throw that fucker into the mix."
"We need a pope."
"A performing ballet troupe..."
"I don't know, maybe a half dozen fake bolders..."
"Maybe another half dozen New Orleans-style jazz players..."
"A (possibly gay) construction worker jackhammering a few rocks..."
"A motherfucking elephant standing on its head."
Cox: "Ever seen some shit like that before, suit? A FUCKING ELEPHANT STANDING ON ITS HEAD?!"
Suit: "I... I don't think I have."
Cox: "That's why we're Go West, bitch."
Drummie (butting in spastically): "I want a mariachi band!!!"
Cox (doing another line off the table): "Fuckin' A, you'll get one then Drummie..."
Cox: "We'll need a zebra wrangler with at least two zebras..."
"... And throw some gratuitous zebra ass in there for good measure."
Suit (while doing a line): "Fuckin' hell! What else?!"
Cox: "I don't even know... I'm so high right now."
Cox: "Oh yes that's right, we'll need Kings."
Drummie (looking up with wild, crazy eyes): "YES! KINGS!!!"
Suit: "Kings? I don't get it. What kind of kings?"
Cox (taking another line): "This is the "King Of Wishful Thinking" video, dipshit. Remember?"
Suit: "Fuck, you're right... That's brilliant! So, ummm, let me guess... I don't know? Maybe, uh, King Neptune?!"
Cox: "Sure!!! Fuck it, why not?!"
Suit (speaking faster): "The king of the forest?!"
Cox: "Not queen, not duke, not prince."
Suit (frantically): "Uhhhh... Shit! Ummmm! The King himself!!!"
Cox: "The King himself... Elvis motherfuckin' Presley."
Cox: "Well I'll be damned suit, you're not so bad afterall."
Drummie (hysterically): "I WANT A GORILLA!!!"
Cox: "You want a gorilla, do ya Drummie? Hmmmm... Well how about, uhhhh..."
"Oh, I don't know..."
"KING MOTHERFUCKING KONG?!?!?!"
Suit: "SWEET FUCKIN' JESUS!!!"
Drummie (now having moved on to freebasing): "TELL HIM ABOUT YOUR NECK THING!!!"
Cox: "Oh snap! Dog... You ain't gonna believe this shit...
I have this thing...
With my neck...
Where like, the more excited I get...
And the more effort I put into it...
Like, the more these veins just like, FUCKIN' EXPLODE OUT OF MY NECK!!!
Cox: "DAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Suit: "JESUS CHRIST, OK!!!!"
Cox: "There's more though."
Suit: "There's MORE?!!!"
Cox (taking yet another line): "The fuck you think this is, suit... Amateur hour?!"
(Drummie is nodding off on the couch.)
Suit: "Alright, alright... Jesus. Lay it on me for fuck's sake."
Cox: "In a conceptual kiss-off to Craft Services, I want a collection of buffet trays to fall from the sky as if to make a statement about the existential despair tied to the tireless, day-to-day consumption exercises we must endure throughout our meaningless lives in the entertainment industry."
Suit: "Come on man, you can't be serious?!"
Drummie (Springing to life off of the couch and screaming bloody murder): "CRAFT FUCKING SERVICES!!!!!!!!"
Cox: "And then... In perhaps my greatest fit of inspiration to date, and in a nod to the great Fellini himself, we'll bring everyone together as if to channel a lifetime's worth of experience into one great directorial payoff... Just like the end of 8 1/2."
Suit: "It IS like the end of 8 1/2."
Drummie: "You're GODDAMN right it is."
Cox: "And there we'll be, at the end of it all... Directing from our chairs, dictating our story onwards and into the future, in an elliptical, endlessly repeating cycle of self-aware artistry."
Suit: "I can't feel my face... But I can still write a check."
Cox: "Drummie... Our work here is done."
... And onward they went, marching toward oblivion... The kings of wishful thinking.
Well... It is officially 2012, my friends. A great deal of time has passed since I last checked in and there are a number of good reasons for that, some of which I may get into in this particular entry, some of which I may reserve for either the sake of brevity, my inherent shyness, or perhaps my own sanity (or maybe all three)... We shall see.
So many things have changed. I've moved to L.A. I've started a business. I've produced a bunch of music... I've had a crazy, crazy, CRAZY eventful year. Some of it's been great. A lot of it's been really, truly awful. All things considered though, I'm alive, the people I love are alive, I'm doing what I want to do, and I live where it's 70 and sunny every day of the week... So I suppose things could be worse.
Without getting into any of the heavy shit though, it deserves note that I've also just returned from a lovely holiday endeavor in my home town of Chicago! Normally this might not warrant much in the way of commentary. However, this particular journey was noteworthy for perhaps one big reason: It was my very first, inaugural experience riding the one, the only... Amtrak!
That's right people, I can now count myself among the select few who have not only considered the possibility that a 43-hour train ride in coach might be a fun experience, but was also stupid enough to make good on that very, very bad idea and see it through to completion.
Was it fun? I don't know. Would I do it again? Fuck... Probably not. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
There's a vast world of things a person can learn while riding Amtrak... I've now learned many of them. With that in mind, I'm gonna list a few Amtrak rules for you, beloved reader, and in no particular order... Consider this something of a stream-of-consciousness rant. I took no notes while on the train. This is my advice to my fellow journeymen and my retroactive travelogue. Enjoy...
Rule no. 1: When riding Amtrak there's one thing you need to know above and beyond all other things: Shit is going to get weird. With all due respect to those with flight-related phobias of any kind, there is a REAL reason people ride Amtrak instead of airplanes. That reason is because NO ONE, be them pilot or patron on Amtrak, gives a FUCK about SHIT. Standing in line for tickets at Union Station is like walking into a time-machine with its knob set to "depression-era Soviet Russia". Infrastructure is pretty much non-existent and if you want an answer about anything of any kind, you can expect to be shot directly into a sort of nightmarish pinball machine of bureaucratic idiocy in which no one person really has to answer for anything. In this particular pinball machine, rather than dropping into a neat little hole in order to be made useful for the next customer, the pinball instead lands in a giant, turd-laden toilet. That's just the way it works.
This is all just a really long way of saying the following... Supposing you're someone who wants to move across state lines inconspicuously, without ever having to show an ID to someone who cares, or without ever having to pass through a metal detector, or without ever having to worry about the various drugs you have stuffed in your ass, or whatever the case may be... Amtrak is the place to do it. The all-consuming "no-one-gives-a-fuck-ness" of the experience is what makes it a viable option for those in need... And I can assure you that while riding this train you are definitely going to come into contact with a few these individuals.
In some cases, this will be a good thing, like when a young dude tells you the story about how he nearly knifed a man to death in a drug-related dispute a few years ago but narrowly escaped the pitfalls of a criminal path by the grace of some good luck and his own self-discovery. That's a pretty cool story. That's the good stuff.
On the flipside, there's a VERY good chance you're gonna end up sitting across the isle from some ratsucked shitbag from Gary, Indiana with a Tasmanian Devil tattoo on his face.
It's going to happen.
So... When he asks you if he can use your phone "just for a second", think of me and tell him you've run out of minutes. Trust me, this dude has already admitted he doesn't own a cell phone so he's not the kind of guy who's gonna call your bluff on the fact that people stopped "running out of minutes" like 5 years ago. He's more the type of guy who drinks mouth wash at the bus stop at 7am.
Rule no. 2: Speaking of drinking... DRINK. Early and often. This is essential to the smooth Amtrak experience. Unless you're a fancy fuck who got yourself a sleeper car and has the luxury of being horizontal, your night's not gonna be terribly comfortable. But it can be tolerable... If you drink a lot.
Do yourself the favor. If you're traveling by yourself, pack 2-4 bottles of wine (you never know who you may end up sharing some with) and a small $2 pack of Dixie Cups. When in doubt, bring MORE wine. You definitely don't want to find yourself out of booze on this train because the mini bar will gouge your pocketbook senseless if you let it. Do not... I repeat, DO NOT be that guy buying sampler-sized Robert Mondavi for $14 a pop. Be the one who's confidently pouring a little something for his self on the sly but also has a little something to spare for his fellow traveler. It might even make you a friend or two.
As an aside: Don't bring beer. It's heavy, doesn't pack easy, and has a tendency to start pouring down the hatch awfully fast. Wine is better for our purposes. It's cheap and you don't need a lot of it to get your buzz on. Plus, it won't make you feel fattened in an environment where exercise is never an option.
Rule no. 3: Albequerque sucks. If you're like me and you're stupid enough to ride from L.A. to Chicago for the first time, there's a distinct possibility you may run out of booze by the time you hit Albequerque... But guess what?! There is no booze in Albequerque!!! If you were planning to step out of the train during the 20 minute stop and re-up on your various supplies (read: booze), you'd be hard pressed to find a worse place to do it. Despite the fact that Albequerque's train stop sits smack dab in what appears to be the middle of the city's hottest bar district, there is literally not a single place to buy liquor to go within a 10 minute walk of the train station. (Note: I don't really know if it's the city's "hottest bar district" because I don't care.)
Take my word for it... You don't need to stand up and walk around in Albequerque. You can go out for fresh air, then walk around in the observation car instead and life will remain, at very least, equally colorful.
Rule no. 4: ... And I can't stress this enough: WATER. It's true that unless you WANT to hear the toothless crackhead behind you explain to her cousin (in excruciating detail) her minute-by-minute experience at traffic court last week, you're gonna need to drink yourself stupid in order to sleep through the night. Getting through the next day on the other hand is an entirely different story.
Remember this: You're on a moving, swaying train... All day long. The hangovers you know from everyday life are, by comparison, like a day-long temple massage from an exotic, topless, Tunisian mermaid... So before you get on board, buy yourself at least half as much water as you do wine and you should be good to go.
Rule no. 5: ... And while we're still on the subject of basics (and I promise I won't spend too much more time on this): FOOD. Here are the things you buy for your trip:
Apples, Pears, and the like... Basically any fruit that comes in a filling dose but doesn't spoil instantly (bananas are obviously a no-no).
Cliff bars
Turkey jerky
Trail mix
That combination worked for me. Don't bring heavy, starchy stuff that'll make you feel bloated and keep you snacking all day.
Rule no. 6: Additionally, the dining car is totally overrated. There are so many reasons you'll convince yourself it's worth it: "It'll be a nice change of pace!", you'll say to your self... Fuck that. The food sucks. It's pre-packaged, pre-frozen, and CRAZY overpriced. I paid $42 for mine and my friend's combined meals, and I'm talking about an entirely booze-free endeavor. If we had a glass of wine a piece we would have been pushing $60 easily. Forget it. The experience amounted to $42 in the kind of "upscale" tv dinners you might get in the frozen foods section of Whole Foods... AND, the dude taking reservations was a total prick. I'll say it once more... It's not worth it.
To add insult to injury, the dining car is set up in a kind of family-style seating arrangement where, if you're like us, you'll end up forced to eat across the table from some SUPER weird upstate New Yorkers who won't shut the fuck up about what grade schools they went to 55 years ago, how wacky life in New York City is, and how Eli Manning just isn't having the kind of year they had hoped for in 2011... Fuck that.
You ever seen "eXistenZ"? Remember that disgusting scene where Jude Law and Jennifer Jason Leigh construct an amphibian meat and bone gun at the dinner table? You know, this one...
... Well that's what it was like watching this weird old woman handle her duck entree with her fingers while I ate my dinner.
I'll say no more.
Rule no. 7: The observation car, on the other hand, is where everything awesome happens. Spend your whole day there. Hell, spend the night there if you like (beware though that if you do, it'll start getting loud and active at around 6am). It's a perfect environment in which to watch the world pass by, and you'll be met by all walks of life in the process.
It wasn't until my adult life, or really until last year, that I truly became aware of how the American west is just this insane fucking treasure that we sit on. It is staggering and beautiful beyond belief. So if you're moving through these parts of the country, you better soak that shit up. The things you'll see and the places you'll pass through are even more picturesque than the movies you grew up watching. The experience is like a widescreen, moving picture spectacle and it comes free with your admission so you need to take advantage of it... On the other hand, if you're not going west of Kansas... I'm sorry, but you're fucked. There's nothing to look at between Chicago and western Kansas. NOTHING.
Rule no. 8: While you're getting your view on in the observation car, sit with some older folks and learn a thing or two, you lousy, ungrateful dipshit. I was lucky enough to be greeted by a wonderful, incredibly lovely woman named Joan who I sat and talked with for about 3 hours. Meeting Joan was such an awesome part of my experience and we churned through an enormous variety of topics and discussions during our brief encounter. She told me about her life in Michigan. We discussed film and art, and the disappointment of seeing the books you love rendered ineptly by shitty filmmakers. I told her about girls I've loved. We talked about our upbringings. We talked about Chicago and its miserable weather, and how she lived in Hyde Park many years back and misses the city. We talked about just about everything humanly possible within a 3-hour time period. Hanging with this significantly older woman who I'll probably never see again was easily one of the highlights of my trip and should go down as one of the coolest, most interesting experiences I have in 2012. It was a great, life-affirming way to start the year, and hopefully a great kiss-off to the dreadful year that was 2011.
... So keep in mind, next time you're along for the ride... Saddle up next to an old-timer, be receptive, listen to what they have to say, and let them teach you a thing or two. They've probably looked out those windows a few more times than you have.
February brings us a new month at Taco Teatro Tuesdays and this month we're celebrating in style with a selection of four black exploit movie favorites from the past and present alike!
It's a new month for Taco Teatro Tuesdays at Five Star and for January we're celebrating just a few fine works from one of my personal favorite cinematic capitals: Japan! The Japanese have a knack for churning out a uniquely insane brand of cinematic excellence and since I've been exploring a great deal of it lately, I thought I'd spread some of this greatness to the rest of you lovely folk out there.
This coming month, we once again pillage the Cannon Films vaults for a pair of cinematic nuggets of the esteemed "dance movie" pedigree. I'm sorry, it's just too easy with Cannon... Like fish in a barrel. The Golan/Globus duo were just too fucking good at this whole film producing thing and we of the Bad Meaning Good camp just have to continually pay our respects. If there were a Mount Rushmore of awesomely bad film entertainment then these two gents would no doubt be on the shortlist for honorary inclusion. God bless Cannon Films.
Anyways, we're gonna start out the night with a personal favorite of mine... From 8-10pm: The Forbidden Dance Is Lambada
... Though this movie is not technically a Cannon film (and if you're interested in doing further research, there's actually a really hilarious story about how it came to be), it is certainly one of my favorite "bad" movies I've ever seen. If you're planning to be in attendance, you really don't want to miss this one.
Month two of Taco Teatro at Five Star launches tonight and this month we'll be focusing on the movies of the genre film-making master John Carpenter! Carpenter is one of my personal favorites. The man had an incredible directorial run from the late 70's to the late 80's in which he helmed almost a dozen incredibly entertaining films which we intend to celebrate this month...
Another month has arrived, and with that comes another edition of the illustrious Bad Meaning Good. Yes folks, it's November so you know what that means... Why, a poultry-themed double-header of horror trash, of course. What else were you expecting?
Ok... So, there are no doubt film nerds out there who have seen significantly more trash than I have. I'm well aware there exists many a trash gem that has not crossed my path. However, I've certainly seen my fair share. I've also definitely seen the staples... You know, the movies that everyone claims are "THE worst" movies ever to have been made. I've seen 'Manos: The Hands Of Fate'. I've seen 'The Room'. I've seen 'Troll 2'. I've seen 'Plan 9 From Outer Space'. I've seen 'Robot Monster'. I've seen Doris Wishman. Herschell Gordon Lewis. Coleman Francis... You get the point. I've seen a ton of this shit.
However... This movie. This is probably by any aesthetic measure the single worst movie I'VE ever seen. But... It's also one of my very favorite shitty movies of any variety. I mean, seriously... This movie is an anti-drug, Christian PSA about the perils of drug addiction in which a man becomes a mutant, half-man/half-turkey by way of his marijuana habit. You know... One of THOSE movies.
'Poultrygeist' is without a doubt the most self-aware movie we'll have shown at Bad Meaning Good in quite some time. It is after all a Troma movie and with that in mind, is of course an "intentionally bad" movie... Whatever that means. I've never professed to be the biggest of Troma fans. I've probably seen around 10 of their movies (admittedly not that many) and while there's not one I truly loved, I can respect their rigorous devotion to trash. It is indeed a noble undertaking.
I can't lie though, I had fun with this particular one and you have to admit, it fits the seasonal theme something serious. It'll go down easy after everyone's got a couple rounds in their system and once the residual brain-fucking effects of 'Blood Freak' have warn off.
So... We of course look forward to seeing all your lovely faces out on Monday. Bring some gravy!
Tonight will be our second week of movies and tacos at Five Star and this one'll be a doozy! Moving forward with October's Dario Argento theme, we'll be showing his 1975 opus Deep Red (aka Profondo Rosso) in all of its profoundly awesome glory.
As someone who's seen almost all of Dario Argento's movies (even the REALLY bad ones - I'm looking at you, The Card Player), I'd be willing to go so far as to say Deep Red is probably Argento's "best" film. By that I mean it's probably the one that withstands the highest level of scrutiny when viewed through the microscope of most folks' very most basic film-judging criteria. In other words, if the average film-goer sees a "great" film as being a culmination of superior performances, direction, writing, cinematography, etc... Then this film is likely Argento's most complete composite of all these basic film-making ingredients and sits damn near the top of the Argento pile.
However in my humble opinion, judging the work of Argento makes for a more unique task than the balancing of traditional film-making building blocks alone. This is because while Argento is not the greatest storyteller the cinema has ever known, and while his films are often poorly dubbed and acted, he is without a doubt one of the most singularly compelling stylists that you're likely to ever encounter. His films look like no one else's and contain some of the most vivid, beautiful, terrifying, insane imagery you'll ever see in any film, anywhere.
While Deep Red is not Argento going off the visual deep end the way he did in Suspiria or Inferno, it is arguably a more austere and traditionally beautiful film than either of those two and is without any doubt a stronger, better-acted drama than either of those as well. I think it's an absolute horror/suspense masterpiece that can sit side-by-side with the best work of horror masters past and present.
Per usual, once the film is over, you can find me providing the musical backdrop for the evening's duration. Additionally, Mr. John Wilson will be acting as our host and the tacos will be a-flowin' (even though that doesn't make any sense at all).
More to the point:
Five Star Bar
1424 W. Chicago Ave.
10pm-2am
Entry is FREE
$1.50 tacos + $3.50 Schlitz tallboys
Also, check out this trailer for Deep Red:
"Deep Red... It'll put you into deep shock!"
As an aside, the Goblin score in this movie is fucking OFF THE HOOK... Probably my favorite score they ever did. Check out this video of Goblin performing the musical bad-assery that is the Deep Red theme on Italian television.
... And so it is said that one when door closes, another one opens. Truthfully, I've never really understood that expression. Seriously... What happens if you just go into a room and close the door? If you leave that room then the only door that's opening is the same one that closed before. The whole thing just really doesn't make any sense at all.
Anyways, the anecdote, as it is intended, applies. Tonight will be the last of mine and Zebo's Get Get Down events (and the end of the Disco Obsession installments as well) at Berlin. It's been an awfully fun run for the past year and a half or so but we've decided to move on and chase some other, new ventures of our own (mine at Five Star on Tuesdays, his at Columbia with his newly minted DJ teaching gig.
We of course want to thank all the many, many DJ's, guests and participants that helped make it such a memorable residency along the way and we hope some of you can join us for one last go-round tonight!
Greetings friends...
It's with a great deal of excitement that I announce a new weekly party venture of mine that I'll be launching in the coming week at Five Star in Chicago. The night will be called 'Taco Teatro' (er, "Taco Theater") and will be devoted to that beautiful tandem of activities that is watching movies and eating tacos simultaneously (on the cheap, I might add).
Each month I will serve as your curator for a thematically-connected block of movies that will make up the month's collective Tuesday night programming. In other words, I will select a series of films that are connected by some shared element, be it director, actor, genre, country, or whatever other component I decide would make for some good, fun bar viewing. As an aside, those of you who are not so trash-inclined as those of us who attend mine and Intel's 'Bad Meaning Good' events need not worry... Taco Teatro will be devoted to a much wider, more inclusive selection of films and should be more inviting to those of you who appreciate more populist, and less ridiculous entertainment (though Taco Teatro will of course also dabble in some ridiculous entertainment from time to time as well).
Additionally, we'll be serving up $1.50 tacos until 11pm each week, as well as $3.50 Schlitz tallboys. Entry will of course be free, meaning you can (if you're so inclined) walk out of there by the end of the night drunk, with a stomach-full of delicious tacos, and with a rowdy-good film-going experience under your belt, all for less than $20... Sounds like a fantastic deal to me.
This coming Tuesday, October 5th will serve as our very first Taco Teatro event. Given that October is the month of Halloween, and that it will be our grand opening month for the event, I thought there'd be no better way to kick this thing off than with a series of films from one of my very favorite genre film-makers, the legendary Italian horror/suspense auteur Dario Argento. Also, since I regard Argento's 'Suspiria' as perhaps one of the greatest cult films of all time, it seemed like the perfect introductory film for our ongoing Taco Teatro chronicles.
The films will start at 8pm sharp every week so plan to get there a little while in advance. After the film is complete, I will be on turntable duties for the remainder of the evening, playing something of a cinematically-inclined selection of tunes for those of you who intend to make a late night out of the whole affair. Let it be known though that you early morning worker-bees will be able to see the films from week to week and still leave Five Star at a reasonable hour; usually before 10pm if you'd like.
So again, playing this coming Tuesday the 5th: Suspiria. For those who haven't seen it, here's a pair of trailers below...
If you're interested in horror films, independent films, or (relatively) low-budget films at all, this is a film you absolutely need to see... An absolute no-brainer.
