RightWingTrash

Perfect Name, Too, But It’s A Literary Reference

JRT — Thu, 15 May 2008 22:29:33 GMT

5/16/08: Infant Sorrow: “We’ve Got To Do Something” (2008)

We’re not sure why we didn’t pay attention to the Forgetting Sarah Marshall soundtrack. We mentioned the movie here, which includes a link to our review of a previous soundtrack from the same filmmakers. We still have fond memories of the movie, too. Anyway, we dug out our copy because we wanted to hear the tracks culled from the Dracula puppet musical from within the film. Then we were pleasantly surprised to see the soundtrack included Frank Black’s cover of Herman Brood’s “You Can’t Break A Heart and Have It.”

We were pretty impressed that Black—he formerly of The Pixies—had found a Brood song that we’d never heard. We have two Brood box sets. This got us to wondering where Black found the tune, and it seems it was through a Brood clip on YouTube. This got us wondering if the gang behind Forgetting Sarah Marshall had been ambitious enough to post the complete video for the fictional band Infant Sorrow and their hit single “We’ve Got To Do Something.”

As the link above shows, they did. It’s brilliant. Infant Sorrow is the band fronted by the rock star who steals Forgetting Sarah Marshall’s titular dame from our nebbish hero. The rock ’n roll frontman is played by UK comic Russell Brand, and he’s a perfectly annoying creation. So is the video for “We’ve Got To Do Something.” It’s like the B-side to Dramarama’s “What Are We Gonna Do?” Keep in mind while watching that Brand’s creepy (but charming) character isn’t so open and giving that he fills Sarah in on things like his interesting social diseases.

Also, we just got a press release announcing the birth of Frank Black’s fifth child—with his wife, even. It’s nice to see that Black’s not worrying about his family’s environmental impact.

Make it your own: The Forgetting Sarah Marshall soundtrack is easily found. The same can’t be said for those Herman Brood box sets, but you should check out his albums. He went from writing “Rock ‘N’ Roll Junkie” to being a rock ’n roll suicide.

As it turns out, there are two Infant Sorrow videos on YouTube. Here’s the other one. Actually, they’re both annoyingly good songs, and both on the soundtrack album. And, as you might guess, you can visit Infant Sorrow’s MySpace page.

The Only “-lanche” We’ll Ever See Around Here

JRT — Tue, 13 May 2008 20:28:12 GMT

5/14/08: Avalanche (1978)

Disaster movies weren’t quite dead when Roger Corman came up with Avalanche. The real disaster was yet to come, with 1980’s When Time Ran Out… putting an end to the genre. Corman’s contribution was actually kind of pedestrian—except for the non-avalanche footage, which combines moronic characters and environmentalist pandering for a Leftist feel-good epic.

Rock Hudson stars as the developer who’s upset that protestors are interfering with the opening of his fabulous new ski resort. “Does this look like I’m destroying?” he asks, looking out at his man-made paradise. “I’m creating a beautiful life here!” But some locals don’t appreciate that, including the do-gooders investigating a corrupt planning commissioner. Robert Forster is also around as a photographer who isn’t happy over the trees being removed to make ski slopes. He’s quite the nature boy, able to prove environmental impact with the mere tossing of a snowball. Some people have to go and make documentaries.

Mia Farrow shows up at the resort as Rock’s estranged wife. Or ex-wife, since there’s some kind of hassle about her using her maiden name. All we know is that Rock keeps grabbing Mia and kissing her really hard. It’s no dice, but Hudson isn’t missing out on much. Farrow doesn’t seem aware that the ’70s are about to end. She’s got a vocabulary full of feminist declarations. “You stifle me,” she explains to Rock. “I need my space. I need some room!”

(We’re talking about Farrow’s character, of course. The actress must have known the ’70s were ending when she signed on to make this film.)

Anyway, it turns out that what Farrow really needs is a night of love in Forster’s rustic mountain home—which is how we’d describe our house if we lived in a shack on the edge of a mountain. No wonder the guy’s so worried about Rock’s ski resort. One kid could slip on the bunny slope, and it looks like Forster’s place would be set to do some downhill racing.

Farrow’s impressed, though. “Wow,” she declares. “What a wild place to live.” She admires a picture of a ram’s head on Forster’s wall, but she’s lucky it isn’t an actual goat’s head hanging there. Forster—who’s usually one of our favorite actors—is mostly foreshadowing Christian Slater in this role. You’d expect the titular disaster to be triggered when one of his mail bombs goes off early.

The next morning, Rock proves himself to be a good businessman by using Caterpillar bulldozers to build his place. There is no finer bulldozer. He’s also got a topless babe serving him orange juice in his hot tub.

Forster has to settle for leaving a sleeping Farrow a note before he goes off for a morning stroll. That’s when the avalanche hits, thanks to a business executive’s private helicopter that crashes into a mountain peak after running low on fuel. It’s always fuel’s fault.

The resulting carnage kills many people, but respects that our three leads have top billing. We’re not exactly sure how Forster survives being caught out in the middle of the mayhem. The camera just might ignore him through all the action—which, we’ll note, is signified by what looks like a ton of Styrofoam chunks. Maybe things have changed, but that stuff definitely wasn’t good for the environment back in 1978.

Some more people live, some more die, and the film keeps playing out like an episode of Dynasty. There are a few brilliant moments that we don’t want to spoil. The obvious thing—as noted—is that Forster’s cabin survives, as does Farrow and Forster and Hudson. The ending is where Avalanche becomes a true Leftist fantasy.

Forster wraps up his very short love affair with Farrow by declaring, “I like you just the way you are.” “You take care,” she replies. Well, who wouldn’t like Farrow just the way she is? Not even a natural disaster can keep her from neatly wrapping up a one-night stand. Then she heads over to what’s left of Rock’s office. She offers a toast: “We survived.”

Rock responds by saying the sexiest thing a newly environmentally-aware lady could want to hear: “I caused all of this. I’m responsible.”

“You’ve never said that before,” replies Farrow. “I love you.” She still won’t have sex with him, but that’s okay. That gal with the orange juice is probably still waiting in the hot tub.

Make it your own: The only bonus feature about the Avalanche DVD is that it’s billed as part of “The Actor’s Series” in the Corman reissue campaign. These are the least important acting experiences in the history of Corman’s empire. The film’s still worth watching—and, yes, it would’ve made more sense if we’d ran this entry during winter. We wanted to, but it was a pretty mild winter.

Rated Guilty By An All-White Audience

JRT — Sun, 11 May 2008 20:55:56 GMT

5/12/08: The Swinging Madisons “Guilty White Liberal” (1981)

Some of our favorite artists refuse to cooperate with this site. We’re especially frustrated that we can’t come up with a single entry from The Monkees’ Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd. That has to be one of the greatest albums of all time. We’re also big fans of Kristian Hoffman, who was probably dreaming of The Monkees back when he was fronting Mumps with childhood pal Lance Loud. We’re not actually big fans of those legendary NYC glam-punks. We’re more excited about Hoffman’s sparse work as a solo artist over the past fifteen years. He’s written some gorgeous and catchy pop tunes, but none with clear conservative content.

Somehow, we’d forgotten about his sole ’80s effort with The Swinging Madisons. We own a copy of the 5-song EP from 1981, but hadn’t thought about it for a while—until the fine Power Pop Criminals blog recently posted a download of this great lost album.

Well, actually, it’s a great lost EP. Maybe an album wouldn’t have worked, since The Swinging Madisons were precious to the point of novelty. The three original songs are fun, though, and “Guilty White Liberal” is more relevant than ever.

Download it for yourself, but here are the lyrics. Read them while keeping in mind that The Swinging Madisons were supposed to be Hoffman’s more mainstream effort:

         Now Vietnam is over and you can feel so suppressed
         You must admit there's nothing left a white boy can protest
         So why should all this comfort make you so uncomfortable
         When you're guilty, you're white, and you're liberal?

         You never get a bone to pick like all those Blacks and Jews
         So why should God give you a soul you'll never get to use?
         How can a poor boy suffer when his stomach’s always full
         And he's guilty, he's white, and he's liberal.

              You don't have to feel so bad just because you're rich
              You don't have to feel so bad just because you're free
              If your unfair advantages make your conscience itch
              I don't mind—you can give them all to me

         How can a Swingle prove he's big enough to care
         When even your high tension job won't buy a cross to bear?
         You just can't help but wonder why you can't be wonderful
         When you're guilty, you're white, and you're liberal.
         Guilty, guilty, guilty, I saw you watching Roots
         You don't have to feel so bad
         Guilty, guilty, guilty
         You're guilty, you're white, and you're liberal

Notice how Hoffman directly addresses his audience of Swingles? That must’ve baffled the crowds at the hipster haunts where The Swinging Madisons played—but it must’ve also entertained them in that Hoffman tradition.

Make it your own: Here’s that download again, and here’s Hoffman’s site. The best of his solo work is Earthquake Weather and &. You’ll find copies of both at criminally cheap prices. & is particularly great, and pairs Hoffman with a number of guest artists—including Russell Mael from Sparks and Broadway’s own Stew.

Click-Canuck

JRT — Thu, 08 May 2008 22:38:02 GMT

5/9/08: Closed because...

…we won’t see Speed Racer until a very late showing, and the only conservative angle to What Happens In Vegas is an appearance by Dennis Miller. We thought we’d fake our way through a lazy week by linking to an article from elsewhere, but it didn’t run as scheduled.

Instead, we recommend Kathy Shaidle’s review of 1966’s Blow-Up. Anybody reading this site should already be checking out her Five Feet of Fury blog. Shaidle’s own politics are often mixed with trashy pop-culture moments, and her thoughts on Blow-Up are a lot less shrill than whatever we planned to write someday. We would’ve included a SPOILER warning on the piece, though—and probably thought up some political context for Jane Birkin’s big scene.

Demon of Drudge!

JRT — Tue, 06 May 2008 23:12:32 GMT

5/7/08: Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster (1971)

First off, yes, we know it’s really Godzilla vs. Hedorah—or Gojira tai Hedora, if you want to get technical. We saw this in the theaters as Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster, though, and that’s how it remains implanted in our mind. Of course, it’s also implanted in our mind as the most ludicrous Godzilla film ever made—and, by then, we’d already seen Godzilla’s Revenge on television. That one’s really baffling.

For our purposes, Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster is also another entry that we meant to get around to in the aftermath of Earth Day. To their credit, the folks at Toho Films never meant to make an environmental epic. The story goes that the head of Toho was in the hospital while Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster was getting made. The guy was pretty unhappy to see what director Yoshimitsu Banno had done with the studio’s biggest name. At least Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster isn’t some kind of campy disaster. It’s more like a weird mix of serious subject matter and overblown lunacy.

Anyway, on to the plot: Dr. Yano and his family live somewhere on the Japanese coast. The doctor—who likes to bring his little boy Ken along on dangerous missions—sets out to investigate the origin of these weird giant tadpoles that are showing up in the ocean. He goes diving while Ken is left alone to play on jagged rocks along the shoreline. Ken and his dad both discover that there’s a creature flying around that’s made out of sludge. Don’t touch it, though. Ken gets a minor chemical burn on his hand, while his father is neatly scorched by radiation burns along one side of his face.

This creature—who appears in many variations—then becomes more aggressive, ultimately bogarting the smokestacks of the local factories. Ken decides to name the creature “Hedorah.” Some people say that’s Japanese for “pollution,” but it might just translate as “yucky crap.” Ken’s dad works to unravel the mystery of Hedorah so the government can kill it. Ken simply declares that Godzilla will come along to save the day, assuming that Japan’s favorite giant lizard isn’t too bummed out by all the pollution in his home country.

This is a good place to note that a lot of the film’s running time is dedicated to trash rotting in a bay. At one point, we see a crying baby sitting up to his neck in the muck. The movie doesn’t even bother suggesting that Hedorah has anything to do with the poor tyke. See, it turns out that Japan has a huge problem with pollution—as constantly noted by this hipster type named Yukio who’s always hanging around with Dr. Yano.

Our first thought was that Yukio is Ken’s older brother. Then it seems more like Yukio’s just a bad influence. He even brings Ken to some crazy nightclub where people drop acid, imagine all the other hippies with fish heads, and dance to an annoying theme song called “Save The Earth.” Yukio is so busy planning environmental protests that he doesn’t even notice when Dr. Yano decides that Hedorah isn’t a man-made crisis. Turns out that the pesky pollutant is just an alien type who hopped a ride on an asteroid.

Yukio can’t be bothered with those kinds of details. He’s got bigger ideas, like getting “every youngster in the country” and throwing “one blast of a party at Mount Fuji.” Yukio’s big plans work out like most environmental events. As one comrade notes, “I thought a million people were coming. There’s only a hundred.”

“So why complain about it?” proclaims Yukio. “There’s no place else to go, and pretty soon we’ll all be dead. So forget it! Let’s sing and dance while we can! Blow your mind!”

Then everyone starts dancing around bonfires while a band plays lame acid-rock. We’re talking about Japanese acid-rock, so maybe it’s played right to left. Speaking of acid, Hedorah happens to decide that Mount Fuji would be a fine place to show up and start flinging around his caustic mud. In typical fashion, Yukio’s put lil’ Ken in harm’s way by dragging him along to this all-night rave. Fortunately, Godzilla’s also there to put an end to Hedorah.

It’s nice to see Yukio’s followers get wiped out by a monster that their leader couldn’t bother researching. It’s even more fun to realize that Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster is also nuclear power vs. pollution. After all, Godzilla was created by courtesy of President Harry S. Truman. The lizard’s nuclear breath even saves the day when the Japanese military can’t get a decent power source to unleash their own secret weapon against Hedorah.

And so we’ve got a landscape littered with dead hippies (although Japan’s hippies look more like a Toho version of The Mod Squad) while clean nuclear power helps to save the world. That’s the happiest ending to a Godzilla film since the American-made King Kong won their big battle back in 1962.

Make it your own: Godzilla vs. Hedorah (okay, okay) was released on DVD in 2004 as part of Toho’s big 50th Anniversary celebration. It’s a fine print that can be had cheap—and it’s pretty much what we remember seeing in the theater way back when.

The only big difference is that the dubbing on the DVD doesn’t include the English lyrics to “Save The Earth.” You have to settle for hearing the original Japanese lyrics. That’s a shame. We have fond memories of walking around the mall after seeing Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster and singing the theme with our childhood pal—well, better if we don't mention his name. He grew up to be a Hollywood producer. Nowadays, a guy could get blacklisted for not taking “Save The Earth” seriously.

The DVD also has very nice ad copy on the back of the box. We stole today’s headline from it, although we could’ve gone with “Mammoth of Muck.”

Finally, A Conversation That Helps My Kids

JRT — Sun, 04 May 2008 17:45:12 GMT

5/5/08: Closed—as Ordained by God!

Deadlines loom, and, as the Good Book says, “Thou shalt not harvest schlock whilst thou children starvest.” Except, of course, the Bible says no such thing. Good thing, too. Harvesting schlock is our only job skill. We just wanted to catch up with goofing on Nancy Pelosi and her own fondness for imaginary Bible verses.

Someone else should’ve mentioned this while we were on vacation, but now we have to note that Pelosi’s preening brings her reign in the House of Representatives even closer in comparison to 1962’s classic caveman saga Eegah—which also ends with a dopey and fictitious Bible verse. This got us to watch Eegah again, and it’s still a fun film with a title sequence that once scared the heck out of a certain 10-year-old conservative. Sadly, there’s no real political content. The only thing we could think of was that the prehistoric Eegah seems to have been kept alive through the ages by the sulfur in his California cave. That might explain why environmentalists smell that way.

Yeah, that’s the best gag we could manage. The director of Eegah made a Cold War classic, though, and we’ll review that soon enough—but probably not when postings resume on Wednesday, May 7th.

A Proper Response to May Day, Too

JRT — Thu, 01 May 2008 11:24:25 GMT

5/2/08: Iron Man (2008)

It’s interesting that Iron Man and The Hulk both have big-screen adventures coming out this summer. The two represent the greatest gulfs in the comic universe, with Iron Man—being military industrialist Tony Stark—often confronting The Hulk in pragmatic and logical ways. There are other writers who’d do a better job of discussing all that. The important thing is that now we have Iron Man, and it lives up to all those teaser trailers that were littering the internet.

It was nerve-wracking to see how good the film was looking. Iron Man seemed set to embrace Tony Stark as the anti-Commie hero of his early ’60s origins. The opening of the film—a long sequence before the title card—certainly sets up Stark as our kind of warlord. He’s palling around in Afghanistan with American soldiers who clearly admire the millionaire. That fun comes to an abrupt end, though. His convoy is attacked by terrorists who take Stark into custody.

That’s when we get the aforementioned title card, and a flashback that makes us like Stark even more. He’s in Vegas for some kind of honor, and banters with a typically vapid journalist who asks Stark how he enjoys being known as the “Merchant of Death.” He thinks that’s a pretty nifty nickname. Maybe it’s a little much when Stark is shown to keep a private plane full of stripping stewardesses, but that’s how he rolls to Afghanistan—where Stark demonstrates some new weaponry. His best lines there are also in the trailers:

“They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire. I prefer the weapon you only need to fire once.”

“Is it better to be feared or respected? I say—is it too much to ask for both?

No wonder those soldiers are so happy to be hanging out with Stark. The products of Stark Industries will be keeping them alive. The guy deserves all the stewardess/strippers he can get. But then we begin the superhero part of the movie, with Stark building his Iron Man armor while being held hostage by the dopey Islamic terrorists. This long sequence reminds us why Muslim nations haven’t contributed anything to modern technology outside of the suicide belt. (We stole that line, but that makes it no less true.)

From there, Iron Man is a celebration of killing terrorists and traitors. Some film critics might try to tell you different. After all, the last thing Stark sees before the terrorists capture him is that they’re using his company’s technology. It’s still a stretch to say that Iron Man is about the evil of American capitalism arming our enemies. Stark wants to get out of the munitions business after he escapes. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming the new George Soros.

As Stark declares, “I want to protect the people I put in harm’s way.” This involves Iron Man returning to Afghanistan and blowing up more terrorists. Really, the only disappointing thing about Iron Man is a scene where our hero calmly walks away from an exploding enemy tank. That’s a bad cliché—but at least the camera lingers on the marvelous mayhem.

To the great disappointment of many critics, the film’s main villain—and this is hardly a SPOILER—isn’t presented as a typical capitalist. Tony’s business partner is simply a traitor. He’s the guy who sold the weapons to the terrorists. There wasn’t anything business-as-usual about that transaction. In a similar spirit, Iron Man isn’t business-as-usual for Hollywood.

Make it your own: In theaters now—and you won’t even mind that blatant Burger King product placement. It’s kind of patriotic, and the toys in the Burger King Kid’s Meals are really cool. The last line in the film is pretty awful, though.

Slippery Bunny Slope

JRT — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 18:00:37 GMT

4/30/08: “Ruby’s Bird Bath” (c. 2006)

A few readers noticed that Dramarama’s ode to Earth Day marks the date as April 21st, even though we now celebrate the very important event on April 22nd. We don’t know why that changed. We just know that environmental activists don’t really worry about consistency.

On the other hand, things are very consistent with episodes of Max & Ruby. The show is based on a series of children’s books, which probably also repeat the same story about these lovable bunnies. Ruby is the sensible older sister. Max is the rebellious toddler. Ruby has a task she wants to complete. Max undermines things by insisting on some strange detour, while intoning a different mantra each time.

“Ruby’s Bird Bath” is inherently typical, as Ruby sets out to earn an Environmental Badge as part of her Bunny Scout activities. “My bird bath will be all natural,” she proclaims. “Bath toy,” Max responds, placing one of his favorites into Ruby’s artificial pond.

Ruby informs Max that there’s no place for man-made devices in the utopia she’s creating. She removes the toy, but no birds arrive. Ruby figures out what’s wrong. “You can’t have an environmentally-correct bird bath,” she explains, “without water lilies.”

Ruby adds some, but then finds that Max has contributed a toy submarine. She removes the offensive element and scolds Max. “Bath toy,” he rebuts. Ruby still doesn’t get any birds to visit. “If I was a bird,” she declares, “I couldn’t wait to take a bath in my bird bath!” All good environmentalists have that sense of empathy.

Ruby decides to add some bulrushes. Or cattails, if you prefer, but it’s kind of neat to see a cartoon bunny talking about “bulrushes.” She sets them up, but that pesky Max (with a cry of “Bath toy!”) strikes while Ruby is distracted. He sends in a toy battleship—or maybe it’s an oil tanker—that promptly knocks over the plants.

Ruby again tries to reason with Max: “There’s no place for bath toys in an environmentally-correct bird bath!” It’s too bad that Max doesn’t have a better vocabulary. Then he could explain that he wants no part of Ruby’s environmentally-correct world if Max can’t enjoy his bath toys there. Instead, he says, “Bath toy!”

Ruby returns to pondering the ungrateful nature of Nature: “Why haven’t any birds come yet? My bird bath is environmentally perfect!” The pressure’s on, because her Bunny Scout leader will be visiting at any minute. Fortunately, a flock of birds suddenly arrives. This is because Max has struck again, and put a rubber duck into the bird bath.

The birds are really interested in Max’s rubber duck—which is most likely loaded with phthalates. Those are the wonderful chemicals that make plastics so flexible, and which environmental activists are currently trying to ban. Never mind that our parents and grandparents were teething on phthalates with no consequences. The environmental activists have found a new scare tactic. As the activists would explain, “There’s no place for phthalates in an environmentally-correct bird bath!”

Max & Ruby may be just a cartoon, but you can say the same for the environmental movement. Max & Ruby is certainly more realistic—especially if we consider Max to be the descendants of the bunnies who built the Alaskan pipelines that were supposed to kill off all the local caribou and moose. The caribou went on to use the pipelines as a mating device. Max’s rubber duck will probably lead to some hot animal mating, too.

The Bunny Scout leader doesn’t notice Max’s rubber duck. She’s too busy being impressed by all the real birds. The lady can’t figure out Ruby’s secret: “However did you manage to attract so many birds? Was it the rocks? Was it the water lilies? I know—it was the bulrushes!”

Like any good environmentalist, Ruby commences with some spin. “It was all that,” she replies, “and a little something extra.” That’s smart, Ruby. Keep the facts vague. Anything else might interfere with your funding.

Make it your own: There’s some weirdness with Max & Ruby. “Ruby’s Bird Bath” was originally on the Max & Ruby: Max and the Easter Bunny DVD collection, but that went quickly out of print. Meanwhile, hardcore Max & Ruby fans are bitter about the show’s changed direction since debuting in 2002. This episode is supposedly one of the lesser ones. We don’t really have a position on that controversy. If you’re curious about Max & Ruby, though, it’s shown every day on the Noggin network—with “Ruby’s Bird Bath” currently being aired about once a week.

And speaking of rubber ducks and mating…

We Warned You!

JRT — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 17:00:29 GMT

We’re off on another vacation. The new entry below will have to suffice until Wednesday, April 30th—when we’ll probably return with postings that would’ve made for a theme week of Earth Day tributes if we hadn’t gone off on vacation.

It’s Tomorrow, But We’ll Have “Earth Week” Soon Enough

JRT — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 16:58:39 GMT

4/21/08: Dramarama: “What Are We Gonna Do?” (1991)

Dramarama was one of the best bands of the ’80s and ’90s, and were timeless in their dedication to catchy and sensitive glam-rock. That’s why it was fairly alarming when 1991’s Vinyl included an ode to Earth Day. As it turns out, the band also found the topic to be distressful. The details are discussed in Jerry McCulley’s fine liner notes for The Best of Dramarama:

…“What Are We Gonna Do?” parodied late–period Beatles pop to cynically skewer the bumper-sticker mentality of all-too-many armchair environmentalists. “I still don’t think people get it,” notes [frontman] John Easdale. “Environmental people listen to it and think, “Wow, this guy is really ‘Green’!” It disturbs me to think that there really are people who believe that they’re ‘spokesperson for a generation.’”

Easdale recalls the song’s genesis: “We played at the festival celebrating the 20th anniversary of Earth Day. Forget about the last 19 that nobody celebrated; ‘It’s the 20th anniversary, let’s have a party!’ And they did, at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. Linda Gray from Dallas is in our trailer smoking cigarettes and drinking beers, and there’s a quarter of a fucking million people in front of us! When everyone left, we looked at all the garbage left behind and wondered just what we were celebrating.”

“What Are We Gonna Do?” captures Dramarama’s exasperation. The lyrics begin with the band “trying hard to think of something meaningful and worthy, kind of earthy.” By the end of the song, Easdale is passing along a message from “a tiny little man” that the world will end by 2041. The song closes with the classic hand-wringing Leftist angst of a repeated refrain: “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?”

Of course, it’s a lot more fun to hear the tune. We could’ve sworn there was a video made for “What Are We Gonna Do?” Instead, all we can find is a recent Earth Day video that earnestly uses the Dramarama song as its soundtrack. So, there’s the joke made real.

Make it your own: Everything by Dramarama is worth owning—although the recent reunion album should be the last of your priorities. John Easdale also made a great solo album, and contractual reasons had the band releasing one album as The Bent Backed Tulips. As noted, “What Are We Gonna Do?” is on The Best of Dramarama. You can also get the brilliant Vinyl for really cheap. You can pretty much get all of Dramarama for really cheap.

Here’s the band’s MySpace page. John Easdale would later protest Schwarzenegger’s gubernatorial campaign with a cover of Dead Kennedy’s “California Uber Alles.” We discussed that with Easdale, though, and he sounded perfectly reasonable about his concerns. There’s really no reason for anybody not being a Dramarama fan. Just ask Ellen DeGeneres.

Really, Not Even Gone In Our Mind Yet

JRT — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 22:53:57 GMT

4/18/08: Closed, Pretty Much

We're trying to prepare everyone for our upcoming vacation—which also means we have to prepare, so we're too busy beating early deadlines to post today. Forgetting Sarah Marshall is in theaters, though, and you might be wondering if it's yet another in a series of grown-up, vaguely moralistic comedies from Judd Apatow. That's the writer/producer/director who was also behind Knocked Up, Superbad, and our beloved Walk Hard. Forgetting Sarah Marshall has a pleasant angle with its tale of a nice American guy whose TV-star girlfriend dumps him for a vapid rock star prone to slogans such as "Sodomize Intolerance." Actually, as you can see in the above graphic, that case is better made by the international advertising campaign. The American ads have been kind of irritating.

And while Forgetting Sarah Marshall goes on for a little too long, it ends with a spectacle that you won't see in any other theater at the multiplex this weekend. Also, the film stars and is written by one of the cast members from How I Met Your Mother, so that's an encouraging sign.

Postings will likely resume on Monday, but, seriously, there's a vacation coming up real soon.

She’s Carbonating the Fetu—Er, Blob of Cells!

JRT — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 17:28:44 GMT

The best part about Barack Obama’s recent snobbery has been the Leftist acclaim. You might have missed it, but there are plenty of websites where commenters are thrilled to have a Presidential candidate finally tell the hard truth about all those embittered gun-owning religious folk.

It’s certainly no surprise that a lot of those commenters are at film sites of a Leftist bent. Those same film sites will probably be raving about Baby Mama, which is an upcoming comedy from Tina Fey—whose 30 Rock sitcom is one of NBC’s more reliable bastions of irrational fear of conservatives. That same attitude is nicely summed up in the main promotional image for Baby Mama, which showed up in our mailbox on a screening invitation that we’ll have to decline. (We’ll be out of town on vacation next week; sorry to just blurt out the bad news like that.)

Baby Mama is about a successful executive (Tina Fey) who’s about to receive a child from a surrogate mother who’s simply the wrong type of person. You probably can't read the print on the graphic above, but here’s what it says: “Would you put your eggs…in this basket?”

The “basket” refers to Amy Poehler as the trashy mother—except Poehler is looking cute and perky with her high cheekbones and blonde hair and blue eyes. What’s supposed to be so trashy about her, anyway?

You’re not looking closely enough. Poehler’s character is clearly sipping a drink out of some kind of supersized cup from a fast-food restaurant. It’s probably a carbonated drink. That’s disgusting. The only good news is that maybe there’ll be a touching moment in Baby Mama where we actually learn that we shouldn’t be judgmental about anybody, and that we can all gain from each other’s experience and insights. The critics will love that—unless Poehler’s character is a Republican.

The Remake Will Make It A Plot By Nixon

JRT — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 11:26:56 GMT

4/16/08: Suddenly (1954)

It sure is difficult typing away while wearing a barrel held up by suspender straps—but that’s nothing compared to how other citizens were held up yesterday. Fortunately, we can mark another Tax Day with a film usually found in the $1 bins. There’s a long story to Suddenly’s public domain status, starting with a rumor about star Frank Sinatra pulling the film from circulation after JFK’s murder. The most popular rumor—perhaps cultivated by Sinatra himself—says that the star was upset to learn that Lee Harvey Oswald had once watched this tale of Presidential assassination.

In truth, television stations just politely lost interest in showing Suddenly after November of 1963. The movie’s lapse into the public domain then allowed Suddenly to be rediscovered when lowlife companies were looking to put out video product in the ’80s. It was certainly one of the better films to be found cheap.

Suddenly has added value as a correction to a creepy myth about film noir. We hate hearing idiots pontificating about the genre as a shadowy world full of moral ambiguity and antiheroes. Film noir is really about good and evil, and the simple truth that each walks different paths. Suddenly is film noir in negative, too, set on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The action takes place in the modest setting of Suddenly, and it’s our kind of town. The local deputy asks if the commotion that day is due to a “uranium strike.” A little boy is playing with a realistic cap gun, and Sheriff Shaw (Sterling Hayden) is asking the kid’s mom (and local widow) Ellen Benson if she wants to join him for church on Sunday.

The sheriff is busy this Saturday, since all the commotion is about a quick visit that the President of the United States is making to Suddenly. Our leader is going to arrive at the town’s train station at 5 pm. Ellen’s house has a perfect view of the train station. This brings in Sinatra as John Baron, posing with his cohorts as FBI agents while securing the house to take down the President.

Baron and his gang set up a rifle while Ellen, her son, and her elderly father (a former Treasury agent) are held hostage. Later on, the hostages will include Sheriff Shaw and a TV repairman. It’s a leisurely count to 5 pm, filled with lots of rampant patriotism. That’s established early on, as the Sheriff asks a Secret Service agent about their tip on the planned assassination. Shaw’s not sure why they trust the word of a dying stoolie. “The stoolie,” explains the agent, “seemed very proud of being an American.”

Things only get more patriotic once Baron reveals his motives. “You stink!” proclaims the 8-year-old. Baron responds by bragging about the Silver Star he earned killing Germans back in the war. It’s like the kid’s questioning his patriotism.

Grandpa’s still outraged: “But you’re an America citizen!” That even gets one of Baron’s partners to have some doubts. “Maybe the old man’s right,” he says. “It’s a terrible thing.”

“Yeah,” muses a smiling Baron. “I never killed a President before.”

That’s pretty much all that Suddenly entails. The good Americans are outraged, while Baron alternates between ranting about his military service and whining about his bad childhood. Phil Donahue and Michael Moore would have a knife fight over who got to make a documentary about Baron. The rhetoric gets more inspired as Baron gets more unhinged. “They’re stinking traitors,” declares the kid. “They’re Benedict Arnolds.”

“He’s your President, too,” adds the TV repairman, before accusing Baron and his men of being Commies and enemy agents.

“Don’t give me that politics jazz,” responds Baron. “It’s not my racket.” Suddenly doesn’t take that same attitude. The kid will eventually upgrade his toy gun to a working model, while the TV repairman—dismissed as a yokel—will work with Grandpa to be surprisingly resourceful. Ellen is too womanly to fire a gun at first, but she’ll become liberated in all the right ways.

And, of course, the train heads relentlessly towards Suddenly and Sinatra—who’d just won the Oscar that marked his comeback, so it’s interesting that this was the first role he filmed afterwards. Some critics say that it was Sinatra’s way of assuring Hollywood that he was a good American with appeal to the heartland. They ignore that Sinatra spends the film threatening to kill a little kid. Baron’s simply a great role to play, including a nice scene where the killer lists and dismisses the Presidential assassins of the past. The real Commie enemy agent was yet to come.

Make it your own: Word got out about Suddenly being a fine film, and the DVD age has seen some pricier repackaging. Alpha Video has a pretty good print on the higher end—with lots of new and used copies still available for a dollar.

Mort Sahl’s Still Cool—Last Time We Checked

JRT — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 20:37:55 GMT

We’re fond of that brief age when Leftist wits expected their audience to know what had happened earlier that day in Turkey. Today, of course, they rely on their audience being ignorant. So it’s kind of depressing to see Michelle Malkin being absolutely correct in goofing on a recent sad display by Dick Cavett. We shouldn’t be surprised, though. The last time we ran into Cavett, he was literally hopping on one foot in a bid to get the attention of some photographers. Then he was literally dragged off the stage by a publicist who was probably as embarrassed for Cavett as we were that day—and as we are now.

The good news is that there’s a fine character who rightly goofs on Cavett’s pathetic legacy. “Nicholas Fehn” is a creation of Saturday Night Live regular Fred Armisen. He occasionally shows up as Fehn on “Weekend Update,” doing some crazy torn-from-today’s-headlines comedy. The joke, though, is that Fehn’s such a good Leftist that, well, he doesn’t really have to explain his incisive comedy. Seriously, it’s just, you know, so obvious, and, really, it’s very funny, and if you don’t get the joke—but you do get the joke, right? You have to, because it’s, like, right there, and it’s so damn funny, and, oh, just watch these clips…

He Navigates By Faith Alone

JRT — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 20:29:12 GMT

4/14/08: RightWingTrashMan: Roderick Falconer

Jonah Goldberg has to keep a lot straight as Liberal Fascism is routinely attacked. We almost hate to discuss the book, since it’s easily the most misunderstood (or just randomly maligned) work of the decade. We do, however, feel qualified to respond to Goldberg’s recent request for lazy definitions of “fascism.” Actually, we’re more inspired by Ed Driscoll’s two fine responses to Goldberg’s request, both addressing fascist imagery in rock ’n roll.

This makes for a good excuse to write up the greatness of Roderick Falconer. We’ve only been able to find two reviews of Falconer’s ’70s albums, but each critic felt compelled to invoke the f-word. To a certain extent, that laziness was Falconer’s vindication. 1976’s New Nation—as pictured above—certainly offered some intimidating imagery. The cover of 1977’s Victory In Rock City was more futuristic, with Falconer and a token blonde rock babe dolled up in silver uniforms. The inner sleeve featured Falconer in the pinstriped fashions of the earlier album, sporting black leather gloves and boots while groping a giant globe.

He looks a lot like Cameron Mitchell. That’s what made Falconer so distinct as a bizarre remnant of the glam period. Most glam guys tried to look like Greta Garbo, but Falconer embraced the sheer manliness of classic Hollywood. He cast himself as a public enemy with empirical ambition. The rest of L.A. (and then the world!) was an expendable supporting cast. There was the occasional love interest, but Roderick’s romance came with lowered expectations. New Nation offered “I Don’t Think Your Love Can Save Me,” while Rock City had the unsentimental mutual disappointment of “Show Me Something More.”

But was it political? Yes, and also brave. Rock City’s “Hard Times” even brought the un-commercial claim that “You find now that your parents were right”—as delivered by a struggling rock star who was already a parent himself. More importantly, Falconer had formerly been an equally outdated folkie back in 1973. The self-titled Rod Taylor had been released under his real name. Falconer had seen hippie culture at its best and worst, and the Roderick Falconer albums capture the best of pragmatic wisdom and nostalgia. Maybe he can’t be called old-fashioned, but Falconer was writing classic rock tunes with disdain for rock music. He was the only pre-punk artist in what would soon be a post-punk world.

In 1984, Roderick became Rod Falconer for a final bid at stardom. “Magnetic Wave” should’ve been a hit. “Only So Much Time” got the video budget, and this YouTube clip wisely warns off feminists. The album was Rules of Attraction, and it’s pretty good as a commercial bid—but by the time of its release, Falconer had launched his screenwriting career as Roderick Taylor. 1983’s The Star Chamber was a likable tale of vigilante justice, and he’d go on to plenty of work. A lot of it has been genre stuff that’s always fun and imaginative.

He’s also turned screenwriting into a family business, collaborating with son Bruce A. Taylor. Their biggest break yet came with the release of last year's The Brave One. That’s why Roderick Falconer’s name might sound familiar. We based our enthusiasm for the movie on the trust we had in both Falconer and Son of Falconer.

The Brave One, of course, went misunderstood as a tale of vigilante necessity. Film critics pretty much hated it on sight. Those rock critics in the ’70s were just as lazy. The trappings looked fascist, but Roderick Falconer was an individualist. That’s what an individualist looked like back then.

Make him your own: It’s never been hard to find vinyl copies of New Nation and Victory In Rock City. Same goes for Rules of Attraction. Here’s a fan's MySpace page with some ’70s samples, but longtime Falconer fans will be happy to know that pretty much all of his catalogue is available through iTunes—also neatly compiled there as two specially-priced album purchases.

That early folk album is available as a Japanese import. And the next script is a horror film called Open Graves.

This Ain’t Hanoi

JRT — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 20:11:20 GMT

4/11/08: Into The Sun (1992)

We noticed when Into The Sun opened in theaters. We mainly noticed that it was playing in theaters. The film was clearly a low-budget knock-off of what was an undistinguished film to begin with—that being the action/comedy The Hard Way, in which Michael J. Fox played a spoiled Hollywood actor tagging along after NYC homicide detective James Woods. Into The Sun had Anthony Michael Hall as a spoiled Hollywood actor tagging along after Air Force fighter pilot Michael Paré. This one should've premiered on the shelves of our local video store. We didn’t bother lining up at the box office.

But then the film's trailer showed up on some moldy old VHS tape we were watching the other day, and Into The Sun suddenly seemed promising. It turns out to be a schizoid mess, but certainly worth an entry here.

The film opens with Captain Paul Watkins (Paré) flying around and being all cocky in the cockpit. He’s a real maverick, although his call name is “Shotgun.” He’s over international waters when he’s briefly engaged by hostile aircraft. His cohort Lt. DeCarlo is ready to open fire, but Watkins keeps a cool head. They report back to base, where they get yelled at by their commanding officer: “They would like nothing better than to provoke an international incident—I mean, to fuel their propaganda war!”

Watkins then learns he’s been assigned to be a technical advisor to movie star Tom Slade. (That would be Anthony Michael Hall.) Slade’s arrived at the airbase with obnoxious manager Mitchell Burton, and Terry Kiser has a great time in the role. He breezily refers to a female major as “sweetheart,” and goes around rattling off the titles of Slade’s box-office hits. Those include Lightning Strikes and Lightning Strikes Again.

Burton is very happy with Watkins as Slade’s role model. “Tom wants somebody who’s not a Hollywood type,” the manager explains. Yes, Paré is much more a direct-to-video type. Did we mention how weird it is that this film played in theaters?

From there, the plot goes on for a while as light comedy. Slade explains to Watkins that he “wants to get under the skin of the fighter jock mentality.” He adds that acting requires a lot of self-sacrifice. Slade then annoys his new pilot pal by being really good at flight simulation and endurance tests. We also establish that the airbase is in Sicily, and the planes “are flying cover for the whole Mediterranean”—including the Persian Gulf.

Watkins finally gets ticked off at Slade hitting on his love interest (that would be the female major), and decides to treat the smug actor to some daredevil flying. They’re zooming crazily along when some of Watkins’ fellow pilots are fired upon by that anonymous Arab enemy. This part really showcases the film’s budgetary limits; one plane explodes in the exact same manner that Roger Corman would’ve shot the scene in 1958.

Anyway, Watkins defies orders and flies into combat with his civilian in tow. The same evil pilot that buzzed Watkins earlier shoots the two out of the sky. (We know it’s the same evil pilot because of the dragon on his helmet.) Watkins and Slade eject out of their doomed plane and start wandering the desert. Meanwhile, the evil pilot (face still unseen) is playing backgammon and answering questions from his superior.

“Are you sure the Americans violated our borders?”

“That’s what you’ll tell the United Nations, isn’t it?”

The pilot adds that there’s a reason he didn’t shoot the two Americans out of the sky. He thought the Arabs would want them alive for propaganda purposes. Enemy soldiers are sent out to find the two, and Watkins has to keep Slade from flagging down a passing patrol. “This is so juvenile,” complains Slade. “You’d rather die from thirst than ask for help from this so-called ‘enemy.’”

This is where the film starts to get good. Slade and Watkins are saved by wandering Bedouins who love country music. They don’t know much about movie stars, though, and decide to hand the two Americans over to the evil enemy—you know, the ones who are from whatever Arabic land this is. Quit asking.

One of the Arabs in the enemy camp recognizes Slade, so it’s a particularly good day for the propaganda machine. Watkins is taken off to be tortured, while Slade is given a script to read for the cameras: “I see now that the American imperialist regime must desist from crushing innocent nations under its iron shoe.”

Slade has some qualms. “Who writes this shit?” he asks. “It’s not working for me. Can I say ‘boot’ instead of ‘shoe?’”

Meanwhile, Watkins has learned that the evil pilot—who we’ll now call Dragon—is an American who lacks the Air Force’s required 20/20 vision. The drug tests were a problem, too. “You’ve got to get over this flag waving business,” explains the bespectacled traitor. “It’s all just one world, and I just want to fly, man.”

(Dragon’s played by underrated genre veteran Linden Ashby, who’s doing a fine Bruce Dern impersonation here.)

Slade is brought before a video camera. The soldiers drag Watkins into the room. Watkins tells Slade not to read the script, and gets pummeled for his trouble. Slade addresses the camera:

This is Tom Slade. I’m here of my own free will. I have a very important message for the leaders of the United States, and the people of the world—You guys ought to nuke this fucking place off the map!

The enemy doesn’t appreciate improvisation. Watkins is threatened with more torture, and Slade goes on to read all that stuff about the American imperialist regime. Cut to the female major, Lt. DeCarlo, and Mitchell Burton watching Slade deliver the speech on television.

“This is really terrible,” says Burton. “I mean, this is going to kill his career.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” says DeCarlo. “Everyone will know it’s fake.”

“I’m not talking about that,” replies Burton. “I’m talking about his reading! I begged the kid, begged him—‘Pease don’t give up the acting lessons!’”

Dragon is outside of Watkins’ cell, also watching the Slade video. “Cable news,” Dragon muses. “What would we do without it?”

It’s 1992, so we know which cable network Dragon is watching.

Fortunately, it’s not so late in ’92 that the Air Force isn’t planning a strike against the enemy. They’d arrive too late, though, since Watkins is set to be executed at dawn. It’s only been postponed because the Arabs ran out of videotape.

The Arabs don’t know that Slade has been freed during the night by the Bedouins. The nomads have figured out that Slade is worth more money being ransomed to Hollywood. They return to save Watkins, but only because Slade has convinced them that the pilot is heir to a Big Tobacco fortune.

From there, the film goes back to being kind of dull. Slade runs around like Lawrence of Arabia, our heroes escape, and Dragon gets blown up in that same Corman style. Nothing special there—except for when DeCarlo gets an enemy plane lined up in his sights. “Time to face Mecca,” he declares.

Unfortunately, that’s the enemy plane that Watkins and Slade are using to escape. There’s still a happy ending—if only in that actor Brian Haley was able to keep working in Hollywood after delivering that line about facing Mecca. Maybe Into The Sun didn’t play in L.A. theaters.

Make it your own: Into The Sun is probably more fun to read about than to watch. Keep in mind that the film is written by the same team that went on to script 2003’s surprisingly good Terminator 3, followed by 2004’s truly awful Catwoman. You can still get fairly cheap VHS copies—and Linden Ashby really does a good Dern impersonation.

Geeks and Jocks Unite!

JRT — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 19:45:16 GMT

4/9/08: Closed—But With Tunage!

Deadlines loom, which is unfortunate. We just watched a film that we're really looking forward to writing about here. That will have to wait—but check out this link to plenty of rare live and studio tracks from The Pursuit of Happiness. We found the page after recently being reminded that Rock 'n' Roll High School Forever had a great theme song from one of our favorite contrarian songwriters. That would be TPOH's Moe Berg, and the titular track is in the "TPOH misc." file.

Pretty much every song on this TPOH page is great. There's even a complete concert of Moe solo and acoustic—only marred by one song where he disparages a conservative Canadian politician. We've interviewed Berg, though, and can attest that he's got some solidly right-wing views. We don't remember there being anything particularly conservative about Rock 'n' Roll High School Forever. It's mainly a chance to see Corey Feldman on heroin.

Jesus Christ Pose

JRT — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 21:07:59 GMT

4/7/08: RightWingTrashMan: Colonel George Taylor

No surprise with today’s entry—but you’ll notice that this is about a character played by Charlton Heston, and not just a movie. Bear with us, and maybe we’ll offer something new amongst the general mourning for a great man:

Charlton Heston starred in three great sci-fi films of the ‘70s. We’ve gone on plenty about The Omega Man. Maybe we’ll get around to Soylent Green. And there’s certainly no mistaking Planet of the Apes as some great conservative filmmaking—even it was written by two Hollywood liberals.

Let’s fast-forward through all the action where Colonel Taylor does some inadvertent time travel. You already know about him landing on a futuristic Earth where primates hunt down humans. The important scene is when the simians learn that Taylor can speak, and bring him up before the National Academy. This is a parody of the House Un-American Activities Committee, with overtones of the Scopes Monkey Trail (and a few traces of Darwinism’s inherent racism).

Science fiction always brought out the heavy-handed worse in Rod Serling. This scene, however, can likely be credited to co-scripter Michael Wilson, who was briefly blacklisted after the HUAC hearings. Cornelius and Zira are the two troublesome chimps who are endangering their scientific careers. They’re making the case for how Taylor must have come from another planet (which is even Taylor’s original assumption), and that humans might be capable of civilized behavior. The reigning intellectuals of the Academy—with orangutan Dr. Zaius in the lead—consider this to be blasphemy. They believe (or at least pretend) that Taylor is part of a larger conspiracy.

Planet of the Apes remains a conservative film because Taylor represents the truth. The tinsel town Commies of the McCarthy era—whether from ignorance or malevolence—were attempting to perpetuate a lie about their political beliefs. They had plenty of help from The New York Times, of course, which was busy covering up inconvenient truths such as genocide. Taylor’s situation is a lot less complex. He may not know the whole story, but he’s fighting to prove his mere existence. It’s a liberal intellectual hierarchy that attempts to prove him wrong.

Back in ‘68, Leftists watched Planet of the Apes and saw Dr. Zaius as some kind of religious zealot. The problem with that is Dr. Zaius knows the truth. In fact, Zaius is trying to perpetuate a fundamental belief that he knows to be false. He’s a pastor in the church of affirmative action, or gun-control laws, or climate change. Zaius and his fellow apes are right to be scared of Colonel Taylor. He’s their past come to haunt them, and he also represents their own doomed future. The bitter and cynical Taylor is the spirit of manliness. It’s inevitable that someone like him would arise amongst daffy theorists like Zira and misguided patricians like Zaius. The poor guy might as well be caught in the war between Abbie Hoffman and Hubert Humphrey.

Colonel Taylor will eventually learn the truth about his surroundings. So did Charlton Heston. In fact, the character would end up having a lot in common with his creator. Before his career was over, Charlton Heston found himself on trial while battling lies and misrepresentations—all for his sin of being a Republican in Hollywood.

Some of it was particularly petty—as in the Hollywood bio Ed Wood, where Orson Welles shows up at the end to complain about having to use Charlton Heston as the star of Touch of Evil. In real life, Heston lobbied for Welles to direct that classic film. The screenwriters for Ed Wood are good Leftists, though, and wanted to rewrite history. Tim Burton was the director, and probably didn’t know enough to even be aware of the lie. Anyway, Heston was still willing to show up in Burton’s Planet of the Apes remake—where his character once again served to illustrate how the apes’ past had come back to haunt them. He also made a good case for gun ownership.

(Tim Roth was Heston’s co-star in the remake, and later provided a quote about how much he detested Heston’s politics. Tim Roth must be some kind of racist.)

There were plenty of other snide attacks. Our favorite, though, was a particularly desperate turn by Juan Andrade at the Chicago Sun-Times. The columnist slithered out the same week that Heston announced his retirement from public life in 2002. Andrade couldn’t stand the idea of seeing an NRA spokesman getting any kind of sympathy. The piece was headlined, “He’s no Moses, he’s the bad guy.”

Maybe the editors came up with the headline, but Andrade gets all the credit for the following:

[L]ast Saturday morning, it wasn’t long before Heston reminded me and perhaps countless others why now he is more reviled than revered by millions of Americans. In his taped remarks, Heston compared himself and his own resolve to John F. Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Ronald Reagan: three of the most revered names in America. He has nothing in common with any of them, save for Reagan, with Alzheimer’s.

Creeps like Andrade are why Charlton Heston announced his illness on videotape. Go to that tape, and we’ll find Andrade is either an idiot or a liar. Heston never compared himself to Kennedy, King, or Reagan (even though Heston, much like Reagan as he took political stances, was actually risking his livelihood when he marched alongside King in Selma). Heston actually said the following: “I believe I’m still the fighter that Dr. King and JFK and Ronald Reagan knew, but it’s a fight I must someday call a draw.”

Andrade could get even pettier, though—with a superior tone, too:

And Heston just couldn’t leave bad enough alone. As if to somehow comfort us and assure us that he will always be with us, Heston said, “I parted the Red Sea, but I can’t part with you.” “I” parted the Red Sea? Give us a break. That was Moses, the Deliverer.

Go to the tape, and see that Heston made that statement in reference to a life spent perceived by an audience. Heston easily proved Andrade to be just another frightened revisionist. The good news was that weasels like Andrade were already no longer a concern to a man like Charlton Heston.

And to make things even worse for types like Andrade, the Huffington Post isn’t even allowing comments on their Heston obituary.

Make him your own: Well, here’s the classic film, and you can also find Taylor (briefly) in Beneath of the Planet of the Apes—where a bunch of Leftists make all the wrong moves, and Taylor does us a favor by destroying the Earth with a doomsday device.

Which brings us to our entry on Escape From the Planet of the Apes.

Riot On 120th Street

JRT — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 19:48:23 GMT

4/4/08: Some required reading…

Forget another fictional tale. This article is a real-life version of Election, combined with Rock ‘n’ Roll High School—or, more accurately, Rock ‘n’ Roll High School Forever, if only because the sequel had a theme song written by Moe Berg. We’re not sure why conservatives are ignoring this week’s cover story in New York magazine. It’s a wonderful tale of Leftist private-school teachers suddenly faced with students who dare to rebel against the usual indoctrination.

The best thing about the article is how desperately it’s slanted in favor of the villainous Danielle McGuire. You can tell that the horrified teacher is closely collaborating with author Gabriel Sherman, although McGuire doesn’t show up to provide quotes until after her story is told exactly as she requires. Sherman still has to eventually—and reluctantly—provide the article’s very happy ending. It’ll make you feel a lot better about the students in one prestigious Manhattan institution.

And be sure to check out the illustrations in the article. Nothing subtle there.

Also, here’s a link to the archives for the “Mother Goose & Grimm” comic strip. Stroll down to select the date for yesterday’s strip. It was nice to wake up to that in the morning.

Box-Office Draw

JRT — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:19:53 GMT

4/2/08: A Gunfight (1971)

Yeah, I met Johnny Cash. It wasn’t my idea. Those iconic types can be a real pain. I was trying to avoid the guy. For a while, it seemed that I’d get away without having to talk to him. I felt pretty clever hiding in a corner—until I didn’t have anywhere to go when everyone else left the room, and I was alone with Johnny Cash.

Who was staring at me. Expectantly.

So I walked over, and I said, “Mr. Cash, I know you’re an important songwriter, but you’ll always mean a lot to me for being in, um, in a film as good as A Gunfight.”

Johnny Cash looked at me like I’d just addressed him in fluent Swahili. He looked at me for a while. Then he held out his hand, I shook it, and we each went about our business.

I didn’t realize until then how much I liked A Gunfight. It would’ve been more like me to compliment the man on his Columbo episode. That was a good one, with Ida Lupino as the murder victim. Also, I wouldn’t have had to stammer to avoid sounding like I was telling Johnny Cash that I enjoyed him being in an actual gunfight.

But there’s a lot to like about A Gunfight. You’re not really getting an acting duel between Kirk Douglas and Cash as two old gunslingers. It’s more like Douglas having a good time while Cash finds a sympathetic setting for his usual persona. You get a plot that feels fairly libertarian, though, venturing into the reasonably capitalistic.

Douglas is Will Tenneray, who’s making a living showing off at the local saloon in the border town of Bajo Rio. Cash is Abe Cross, who walks into town one day. He was returning from some poor prospecting when a damn rattlesnake bit his horse. We get a close-up when Cross pulls a gun on the rattler. Some animals might have been harmed in this production.

The opening credits had Cash singing about how December snow is ugly when your boots have come apart, and that the country isn’t pretty when you’re hungry. Meanwhile, Tenneray isn’t enjoying the changing American West. He’s being kept awake by construction going on beneath his modest hovel. Tenneray’s also dealing with a liberated wife who proclaims that he “ain’t keeping or sending” her anywhere she doesn’t want to be.

The locals find out the identity of the stranger in town, and the rumor mill starts turning. Everyone figures that Cross is looking to challenge Tenneray to a showdown. The two resolve that issue pretty quickly once Cross stops by the saloon. They get to drinking and enjoying each other’s company, and talking about how badly everybody wanted to see a gunfight.

“Maybe we oughtta sell tickets,” laughs Cross.

That gets Tenneray to thinking.

He brings up his big idea to Cross while the horse is getting buried. The two will sell tickets for a gunfight in a bullfighting arena, with the sole survivor getting all the money. Cross doesn’t like the idea, although he admits there isn’t much money in just shooting bottles. He’d once tried working in a medicine show: “’Sides me, they had a midget and a tattooed feller.”

Tenneray responds that he doesn’t feel much different than the working girls upstairs at the saloon. Cross still has his doubts.

“I don’t want to kill you, Tenneray.”

“I don’t want to kill you, either. What’s that got to do with it?”

Cross finally agrees to the deal, and the film builds to the big day. This entry will leave out some fun details, but that means it rushes to the big SPOILER. First, though, let’s mention the townspeople. Some of them are creepy, but there’s no big indictment over their role as consumers. What you’ve basically got here is a celebration of two individualists who go against society’s conventions. That's why some conservatives like Brokeback Mountain. For the big finish, though, A Gunfight dares to not care about the children.

Tenneray has a young son—as played by Eric Douglas. The gunfight ends with Tenneray dead, and Cross about to ride out of town. He stops to see Tenneray’s widow staring at him. This gets Cross imagining the alternate world where Tenneray is left standing. What we learn—and, honestly, Cross is probably right about this—is that Tenneray would’ve taken most of his winnings and abandoned his family. That’s a pretty bold ending. It takes away the sole moral defense of these two men getting paid for what they do best. What about Tenneray’s family? Kind of a moot point.

And maybe Cross would’ve given that widow a share of the winnings, but she tried to shoot him the night before in a bid to stop the gunfight. That makes her a bad guy. In this movie, you don’t go doing any shooting without a solid business plan. Don’t mess with capitalism.

If you’re still not convinced of the conservative content here, then consider Ed Driscoll’s recent post on “the freedom to do potentially stupid things.” If you’re just upset about the idea of a gunfight at the end of A Gunfight, then check out how Kirk Douglas later starred in a virtual remake with a feel-good ending.

Make it your own: There was a DVD of A Gunfight, but it went out of print quickly. Didn’t have special features, anyway. The film shows up in some cheap western DVD packages as Dueling Guns, but you’re better off with a VHS tape. It’s packaged as Gunfight, for purely alphabetical reasons.

One last bit of trivia that’s always supposed to be mentioned: A Gunfight was produced by the Jicarilla Apache Tribe of American Indians. It’s kind of neat that a bunch of Indians made a western about two white men shooting at each other.