"I threw away love, for honor. Ah, Tokyo drifter."

 

Tokyo Drifter is so fucking cool. The film's leading man, Tetsu, is a beast in powder blue, with a trigger finger quicker than the jazzy beats that accompany him. He's a lone gunman of Bebop-esque proportions (32 years before Spike Spiegel ever uttered the word "Bang.").     

For me, Tokyo Drifter could be seen as the forerunner of modern anime; a 46 year old living comic book that still looks so unbelievably fresh and new (and a lot hipper than most animes today). Maybe it's the vibrancy of its sets, or the way Tetsu keeps his cool even in the most heated of battles - or even the amalgamation of styles Tokyo Drifter exhibits that makes this film so great. Or maybe it's the daring nature of the film itself - a constant expression of style over narrative that frequently got its director, Seijun Suzuki, in trouble with his studio (so much so that he was eventually fired from Nikkatsu for "incomprehensibly"). Whatever the case may be, Tokyo Drifter remains quite the amazing film; one rather potent in affect and design.   

Like the fantasy horror film Hausu that would come after it (a film I most definitely need to post about), Tokyo Drifter is a beautiful expression of color and excess - a must see for any action aficionado (or any lover of film in general). 

 

Eliminating the Ninnies and the Twits: Devo and the Art of the Music Video

In 1979, Devo completed their first long-form music video, entitled The Men Who Make the Music. It was an ambitious, inventive piece of work that remained shelved for years due to its anti-music industry content. It ended up getting released around the same time as their second long form video, We're All Devo! (more of a music video compilation that TMWMTM). In any event, during a time when most music videos consisted of little more than the artist playing on stage and some flashy quick cutting, Devo used the music video to further their own artistic agenda. Like most every facet of their career, Devo's music videos were often misunderstood and attacked by the mainstream music press. The video for "Whip It," for example, was labeled as sexist and offensive by women's groups.

In truth, Devo's videos, like their music, were designed to mock and satirize the faceless conformity of the technocracy that we find ourselves in. It's no coincidence that in every shot of the band they're all dressed exactly the same, down to the shows. "Express your individuality," they said in an ad for Honda Scooters in which they all wore the same white button ups and rode the same white scooter. It's a post-post-modern attack on America after Watergate, the Kent State massacres, and the emerging Conservative movement. In Devo's world, rebellion is obsolete; the only way to attack the system is to completely blend in.

Apologies for the low video quality of these stills (they were ripped from a VHS tape), but I feel that they need to be seen. Devo's work is more relevant than ever in the technologically fascist world in which we live.

"Jocko Homo"

"We should always believe children. We should even believe their lies!": The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T

In 1953, Columbia Pictures had the bright idea to bring in Dr. Suess to write and design a major motion picture. What came of this experiment was Roy Rowland's The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, possibly the most whacked out, psychotic musical of all time.

The film starts with a dream sequence in which our hero, Bart, is being menaced by these crazy guys with spotlights on their heads. It sets up a generally paranoid feeling that permeates the film. It's sort of reminiscent of a prison break film, but told from the perspective of a precocious, imaginative child. This brings sense to the bizarre, expressionistic set design.

Much of the structure of the film is obviously influenced by The Wizard of Oz. A young protagonist is trapped in a boring home life where adults dismiss him. He escapes into a dreamy musical fantasy, but finds that his dreams are just as dangerous and frightening as real life. A good portion of the film is just Bart attempting to get away from his pursuers and lights following him as he runs. It's full of paranoid images, and it seems to be a forgotten Cold War-era musical.

I don't want to spoil these images with commentary, but I think the production design and costuming is fantastic.Think The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but made as a technicolor musical. Totally brilliant design work and, if nothing else, it's an original looking film. Like Saul Bass and Phase IV, it's a shame Suess never got the chance to make more live action features. I think that with a bit bigger of a budget he might have made something really splendiferous.

"It is better we should both perish than that my enemy should live."

Drive unfolds like a beautiful dream. It's a self-reflexive action film that never beats us over the head with its own reflexivity. It would rather take its time to lull us into its narrative, to subdue us with its trance inducing style, than to insult our intelligence with any cheap tricks. It's as though the entire film takes place in perpetual, rhythmic slow motion, whereas the contemporary use of slow motion seems to be showing things more forcibly. I could see another director taking this plot and interpreting it as a high-octane thrill ride (or any other terribly cliched description), but with Drive, the fuel's been used up, and it's operating on auxiliary. 

The film's protagonist (simply named, the driver) seems like an alien in the reality he inhabits. He is the film's hero, I guess, but I'd be hard-pressed to describe him in that fashion. It's as though the Driver has been displaced from an actual action film, and placed within this one - a world where stomping a man's head in isn't framed as anything heroic. I always wondered how John McClane could stab a man in the eye, yet walk away relatively unaffected - or how spouting one-liners after executing your wife isn't seen as sociopathic (although I would never make an argument against action movie puns). In most movies, it's all fun and games. In Drive, it's pretty fucking crazy. 

Watching this film again (taking these stills constituted my third viewing of it) has really revealed for me its connection between style and narrative. I'll probably be a tad more talkative than usual in this post (but you can always forgo my commentary and view the images in slideshow). 

"Why would anyone watch a scum show like Videodrome?"

For me, Videodrome only gets better with time. It is very much a product of its era; saturated with images broadcast over UHF TVs or played on VHS tapes. But don't let the nostalgia fool you; Videodrome is just as relevant today as it was in 1983. Videodrome's eerie prediction of the future (mostly concerning technology's evolution and our changing relationship to it) allows the film to remain nostalgic in look, yet novel in feel.

Campiness aside, I cannot stress how intelligent this film is. It can be seen as a critique of reality TV (the main character, Max, cannot fathom the possibility of Videodrome's signal consisting of unscripted events), of televised personalities (see my notes on Brian O'Blivion below), and of representation through television as a whole (who needs the old flesh when we can exist on TV?).

Many of these stills are of, or feature, television screens (17 of the 58 stills contain turned-on sets; 19 if you count the latex screens depicting Nicki's lips). The aesthetic is impossible to ignore, but given that we are frequently surrounded by screens in our day-to-day lives (TVs, cell phones, computers, etc), the imagery is by no means unusual. In a world where digital images are becoming a part of our reality (see here, here and here), and where film actors are commonly shown manipulating screens with a flick of their wrist (see here and here), is Videodrome really that strange by comparison? Well, yes, it undoubtedly is. However, I feel that there are obvious parallels between how easily Max could be programmed by TV, and pervasive nature of television programs.

"An all new movie that FINALLY asks the question your mom and dad are too afraid to ask"

Could anything be stranger than Jodorowsky's The Holy Mountain? The monsters of Everything Is Terrible! seem to think so. The DVD's case asks this post's titular question: "Why not remake Alejandro Jodorowsky's 1973 classic The Holy Mountain out of dog movies?" Well, open your eyes, puppies! Because apparently, somebody did. 

Doggie Woggiez! Poochie Woochiez! is one of the strangest fucking films I've experienced, and very much a reflection of 21st century aesthetics. I think it's appropriate that the members of EIT! - those curators of VHS purgatory - have created such an...interesting homage to the creator of the first midnight movie. If anyone on the net could be linked to chaotic cult appeal, I think that EIT! takes the cake. 

Update!

I've added a good friend of mine to the mix: the cult-connoisseur and Troma Team member, Citizen_Toxie! His first post answers the question: "what if the creator of the Quaker Oats logo made a film?" Well, the 1974 arthropodic extravaganza Phase IV is the answer!

Give his post a look, it's really quite intriguing. I can't describe how excited I've been working on this project, and how fun it has been. Now that the labor force has doubled, I'm sure our output will as well. More films soon to come. Lots of work to do for the future.

Phase IV and the genius of Saul Bass

Despite a storied career designing everything from movie title sequences to corporate logos, Saul Bass was only offered the opportunity to direct one feature film. That film, Phase IV, would appear to be another run-of-the-mill "nature runs amok" type movie, similar to Empire of the Ants or Day of the Animals. Even the poster proclaims the film is little more than an outrageous exploitation film about ants killing humans.

Truth of it is, though, that Phase IV is a slow, methodical science-fiction film not too far removed from 2001: A Space Odyssey. The bulk of the film is shown from the ants perspective and utilizes incredible micro-photography. Not only that, but the film is essentially a master-class in visual design. This shouldn't be surprising, coming from a master like Saul Bass, but during this film's original release it was largely ignored, probably on account of the genre/exploitation look of the advertising (reminds me of the ignorance surrounding the reception of Battleship....okay, I'll get off the soapbox).

Though the acting throughout the film isn't good by any metric, this seems to be a conscious choice on the part of Bass, drawing an analogy to the faceless conformity of the ants. It really doesn't matter, though, because the real stars of the movie are the ants and the fabulous geometric designs by Bass himself. It's a stunning movie, and the perfect case for completely visual storytelling.

In any event, I present some choice frames from Phase IV, a film that I think will soon become a distinct part of the 70s sci-fi canon. Criterion, where are you now!?

P.S. : My bad about the poor quality of the stills. They were picked from a YouTube video of the film (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcjBIkS-QC4). I'm anxiously awaiting the blu-ray release....

"Nothing in your education or experience can have prepared you for this film"

I did it again. 

Before taking stills from Alejandro Jodorowsky's The Holy Mountain, I knew I was about to be in possession of many, many jpegs. Seventy-nine to be exact - and I don't regret saving a single one. 

It seemed to be that The Holy Mountain would be a good follow up to Akira; apparently, Jodorowsky helped Otomo devise an ending for his post-apocalyptic animation (although Jodorowsky doesn't remember doing so. This is, sadly, taken from wikipedia, so don't quote me here). 

To keep it short, Jodorowsky is an extraordinary artist. His work transcends the realm of Buñuelian surrealism by being ruthlessly strange yet somehow coherent. His subversive imagery is almost never appalling; always seeming to activate some hidden curiosity in his viewers - as though the images they witness have been fish-hooked directly out of their subconscious. Best of all, despite the cynicism and satire that occupies this particular film, it has some of the funniest sequences you will ever witness (and perhaps, some of the most confounding). 

Before anyone asks, I'll come right out and say it: yes, Jodorowsky was taking drugs during the making of this film. But thinking solely about this fact will disrupt the dream-like sensations The Holy Mountain seeks to inspire. Unlike many recent films that use drugs as their selling point, Jodorowsky used drugs as an entryway into something grander: a way in which he could visualize such a beautiful film, whose images could not be fully understood, or remotely contained. 

PS: I think it will be a pretty standard affair that these stills contain spoilers. Also, this movie goes beyond the conventional R rating and never looks back, so many of these stills are NSFW. 

Many more photos to see...