Choose Wondering Who The Fuck You Are

"Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?"

So said the character Renton, played by Ewan McGregor, in the film Trainspotting. This little speech was a shot heard 'round the world of arthouse cinemas. I'll never forget the exhilarating experience of watching this film in a theater in Manhattan. That was 10 years ago. This movie still thrills me, in a way only Pulp Fiction and a few other films can. Here's a partial list of what I love about Trainspotting: the music, the kinetic energy, the humor, the accents, the shite, the rebellion, hopelessness, recklessness, tragedy, betrayal. I could go on. But instead I'd just like to share a little music from the film. These music files are in mp3 or AAC format, for your pleasure:

Nightclubbing by Iggy Pop

Born Slippy by Underworld

Temptation by New Order

Frakking Good TV!

I’ve been catching up with the first season of the new Battlestar Galactica series, courtesy of Netflix. I’m about halfway through the season now, and I’m ready to say it’s a damn good TV show.

I had some apprehension before I watched the first episode, because I’m old enough to remember the original series from 1978-80, which was heavy on the cheese, with cuddly pet robots and kindly old men and ah, well, I don’t remember what else, except it just seemed to be a Star Wars knockoff. To make matters worse, there was this story in my hometown (and I don’t know if it’s true) that a mentally retarded kid jumped off a bridge when the show was cancelled.

Yeah, so let’s just say in my head there was a taint to the show. But that all went away as soon as I started watching. It has grit, ruthlessness, humor, action and just good drama. It conveys a kind of sci-fi realism. For example, the characters curse. Well, sorta. They say "frak" instead of "fuck." Close enough.

Plus the special effects are really good. I hate to say the effects are realistic, because I’ve never battled evil robots in space in order to protect the survival of the human race. Really, never. But the show feels realistic during the outer space scenes. Spacecraft zoom around and blow each other up but you hear very little sound, because there’s no sound in outer space (attention aerospace engineers: correct me if I’m wrong).

It also feels like I’m watching an epic war movie. Aside from the air battles, there are battles on land between humans and Cylons, the particularly evil robots that are programmed to exterminate the human race. They're big scary hunks of metal. Meanwhile back on the Galactica, the humans themselves negotiate power among the President, the military commander (Edward James Olmos) and his staff. Plenty of military-style conflicts are worked out. Also the music recalls the military drama Black Hawk Down.

There are also some great characters, especially Starbuck, as played by Katee Sackhoff, pictured above. She’s the hard-drinking, card-playing, cigar-chomping top gun fighter pilot who challenges authority. I suspect she has the same appeal Xena, Warrior Princess had in certain bars in big cities.

But back to the Cylons. They were robots created by humans. They rebelled and overthrew their masters. Now they’re out to kill the human race for good. What seems to drive them is the knowledge that it’s kill-or-be-killed when dealing with humans. That and a total belief in God. When interacting with humans, they speak like true believers. They hate blasphemy. They believe their souls will never die, that their spirits will be transferred to another body. They have no problem dying in the war or blowing themselves up around civilians. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? For me it's this relevance to the here and now that makes great science fiction.

The Cylons also have the ability to appear in human form. Some are blonde bombshells. Some are regular guys. Some appear only in the heads of humans. Some have forced humans to commit treason. I could tell you more, but just watch for yourself. I promise, no cuddly robot pets.

Look Death In The Face

You only live twice:
Once when you are born
And once when you look death in the face.

--Ian Fleming


To me there's something magical about the James Bond movies of the 60's. These films have a certain essence, an essence that somehow expresses what cinema is all about. This is what film does best. Maybe not what it should do according to some, but what it actually does best.

Or am I moved too much? Maybe it's a guy thing, and that's why you see Bond marathons on Spike TV on holidays. These films give us boys the escapism of a hero's adventure story with the added delights of cars, gambling, booze, sex and gadgets. But at the same time their subject matter reflects the very real political issues of the day. The Cold War, for example, is the issue addressed in You Only Live Twice. Bond goes to Japan, fights evil and saves the world from pending nuclear destruction.

But enough about that. This film is really about style and entertainment. The style comes largely from production designer Ken Adam. Behold his stunning set of a hollowed-out volcano converted into an evil lair, complete with a rocketship and a monorail. The characters sport the sharp fashions of the mid-60's. The movie has beautiful music, too. The title song has to the best Bond song ever. Listen to Nancy Sinatra sing it here. What else can I say? It has the first full view of the villain Ernst Stavro Blofeld, with the shaved head and monacle. He clutches a white cat. (By the way, watch how frightened the cat is at the 1:46:54 mark; poor kitty). You're looking at the inspiration for Dr. Evil.

And then of course there's Sean Connery. Maybe he looks a little ridiculous in his Japanese disguise, yes. And some say he was bored with the Bond role by this time. But he's still Sean Connery, for god's sake. What's that you say Sean? Thanks but it's still all you. Hard to believe all this fun began with a short poem about death.

Interstitial Overdrive

We interrupt this important blog to bring you a recurring series called Interstitial Overdrive.

If you've ever seen Pimp My Ride, then you'll enjoy this, V-Dub Style, ya!

"And We Wanna Get Loaded!"

Peter Fonda. Nancy Sinatra. Bruce Dern. Diane Ladd. Roger Corman. Hells Angels. Davie Allan and the Arrows. What could bring them all together? A little movie called The Wild Angels. It's a biker film from 1966, and it gives us all the things a biker film should. It brings the choppers, the fights, the mamas, the beers, the reefer, the freaking out of the squares, the fuzz guitar theme song, the Iron crosses and racial hatred, the motorcycle cops and most importantly the cool of Peter Fonda and the heat of Bruce Dern. I have to agree with allmovie.com on this one. It's definitive.

The Wild Angels also contains Fonda's famous speech about freedom. It's a speech that launched some powerfully sleazy rock songs by the likes of Primal Scream, Mudhoney and more. Here it is: "We wanna be free! We wanna be free to do what we wanna do. We wanna be free to ride. We wanna be free to ride our machines without being hassled by The Man! And we wanna get loaded. And we wanna have a good time. And that's what we are gonna do. We are gonna have a good time. We are gonna have a party."

Swords, Wigs And Dubious Eyebrows

Yesterday afternoon I popped in my DVD of Shaolin & Wu Tang for a little Kung Fu Theater of my own. This movie has it all: classic Shaolin martial arts, Wu Tang swordplay, spears, arrows, wigs, dubious eyebrows and beards and mustaches, dubbed dialogue in an English accent (sometimes with a hint of John Wayne), English subtitles that don’t match the dubbed dialogue, whip-snap sound effects with every landed strike of a hand or foot, and of course the unbelievably painful training sequences in the Shaolin temple.

This is Hong Kong Kung Fu cinema, circa 1981. The film stars Adam Cheng and Gordon Liu, in Liu's directorial debut. Liu plays a young student of Shaolin, while Cheng is a student of the Wu Tang sword style. An evil Manchu prince pits the two schools against each other for his own gain, and then it’s on! The fight sequences are like ballet. The plot moves quickly, and you get just about everything you’d want in a Kung Fu film. Here’s a good review of the film. One last thing: as you watch, listen for the bits of dialogue sampled by the rap group Wu Tang Clan. Enjoy.

Dragging A Coffin Through The Mud

If a film begins with a man dragging a coffin through the desert mud, then you may be in for quite a ride. If the man then immediately observes a gang of sadists whipping a woman, and the gang are themselves suddenly shot by another gang wearing red scarves and hoods, and the red gang want to burn the woman at the stake instead of whipping her, then yes, you are into the deep psychological waters of the film Django. It is 1966, and your director is the Italian Sergio Corbucci. One of the other Sergios who made spaghetti westerns. Ah, but the term spaghetti western doesn't quite cover it, does it? Too cartoonish and stereotypical. Too non-threatening, too patronizing. Italian western. There, that's better. It's scary stuff. The machismo is pushed beyond real, the sadism, the weird images of a parallel-universe version of the Ku Klux Klan in red instead of white, the ear removal, decades before Reservoir Dogs. The red hoods were supposedly inspired by the ugliness of the available extras, but what else is driving that decision? Why all the mud? And what exactly is in that coffin our hero drags around? You'll see.

A Modest Manifesto

Let us speak no more of Citizen Kane. Let us begin to speak of Hells Angels On Wheels. Let us speak no more about AFI's Top 100, but our own personal Bottom 100, or The Just As Good But Forgotten 100. Let us speak about the other Sergio(s). Let us admit television is our friend. Let us honor the digital video disc and the VHS cassette. Let us begin.