Eat Vincent Spano first...

I just finished reading Joe Queenan's book Confessions of a Cineplex Heckler - Celluloid Tirades and Escapes. Read it. Absolutely classic. The book is a collection of his writings (reviews, social commentary, etc) for Movieline magazine. I couldn't stop laughing through a lot of it. His main point of difference when compared to many other film critics / writers is his more gonzo style journalism. He spends many articles interacting with the public and the film in question rather than simply being a voyeur.

One of the articles has him at the film Alive heckling the audience to guage just how far a heckler can go in modern society before someone threatens to put a foot in his arse. Below is an excerpt:

The poignant film has reached an impossibly anguished moment. Marooned high in the Andes Mountains, as winter curls its icy mantle around them, the two dozen famished survivors of the 1975 airplane crash come face to face with the most horrifying nutritional dilemma a human being will ever confront. Completely out of food, the shivering group of seemingly doomed young rugby players must decide whether to eat the frozen flesh of their fallen comradesor starve to death. The audience sits transfixed, literally bolted to their seats, as the emaciated young men gaze directly into the yawning abyss of cannibalism. Then, just when it seems that neither the actors on the screen nor the audience in the theater can survive another moment of primal human horror, a voice rings out from the back of the theater:

"Eat Vincent Spano first."

It is a horrible comment to make, a tasteless comment, and, in some ways, a stupid comment, since the character played by Vincent Spano is still very much alive, and since the other characters are merely contemplating eating the carcasses of friends who have already died, not butchering a particularly unpleasant survivor and preparing him in a piquant fricassee. Several movie patrons turn to look at the disruptive, albeit goodlooking, fortyish man in the darkest recesses of the theater, murmuring comments such as "Shhh!" and "Asshole!" Sensing their pique, yet also sensing their confusion as to why he would even dare to suggest that the characters begin munching on a character who is still breathing, the boorish man cries out: "Eat Vincent Spano first. He's the only one who really deserves to die."

The patrons turn back to the screen, weary of such gauche, unsolicited comments. For the past hour, the garrulous churl in the last row of the theater has been taunting the characters on the screen, making it all but impossible for the two dozen patrons to concentrate on the ponderous moral and philosophical issues posed by the film. Twenty minutes earlier, when one of the characters began chugging down a bottle of red Chilean wine, the kibbitzer had guffawed, "I guess we're eating red meat tonight!" When Ethan Hawke, very convincingly cast as a collegeaged Uruguayan rugger player, had announced his decision to go and look for the missing tail of the ruined airplane, the heckler had giggled, "Whose tail?" In between these tasteless comments, the maddening jerkoff had regaled the hapless audience with such remarks as "It takes a tough man to eat a tender human" and "Could somebody please pass the A1 sauce?"

Now, as the sensitive, lifeaffirming film races toward its conclusion, Hawke and two friends at last find the missing airplane tail containing the allimportant radio. But they also stumble upon something else.

Three frozen corpses.

"Great," cackles the heckler from the eerie bowels of the cinema. "Dessert!"

Finally, a patron can stand it no longer.

"You got some fuckin' attitude on you," the man opines, revealing a heavy Spanish accent. As he speaks, his wife and two teenaged sons turn to catch a glimpse of the heckler.

"I got some fuckin' attitude?" the heckler fires back. "You take your family to see a movie about cannibal rugby players and I got some fuckin' attitude?"

The man turns back to the motion picture.

"You got some fuckin' attitude," he reiterates.

He is right. I do.

quote for the day:
"Hey, man. Killer idea. You guys like going to the movies? You... you do? Three of you do? I love the fucking movies. Love 'em. Now I'm watching 'Terminator 2', did ya'll see that movie? Well, I'm watching, and I'm thinking to myself, You know what? There's no way they're ever gonna be able to top these stunts in a movie again, you cannot top this shit. Unless... They start using terminally ill people as stunt men in pictures. Well, hear me out. Because I know to some of you, this may sound a little cruel: "Aw, Bill. Terminally ill stunt people-that's cruel." You know what I think cruel is? Leaving your loved ones to die in some sterile hospital room surrounded by strangers. Fuck that! Put 'em in the movies! What? You want your grandmother dying like a little bird in some hospital room, her translucent skin so thin you can see her last heartbeat work its way down her blue veins? Or do you want her to meet Chuck Norris? Hey, how come you dressed my grandmother up as a mugger? Shut up and get off the set. Action! Push her towards Chuck! (Karate noises) Wow, he kicked her head right off her body! Did you see that? Did you see my Grammy? She's out of her misery, you've seen the greatest film of all time! I'm still feeling some resistance to this, man. What's up? You and your fake fucking sympathy. Okay, how about these guys who're being executed? Don't do that. Poison, electrocute-how cruel! And unimaginative! Put 'em in the movies! Jeffery Dahmer, for your crimes against humanity, of which you've been found guilty, I sentence you to Wes Craven's next picture! Bwahahaha! Ahh! Ahh! Okay, not one of my more popular theories. But just do me a big favor-don't ever say you love film as much as I do. I think we found your limit. So what else, folks? I smoke, if this bothers anyone, I recommend you looking around the world in which we live and... shutting your fucking mouth. Either that or suffer a facial burn, your choice. After all this is America, land of freedom, so you have that option ahead of you."
- Bill Hicks (1961 - 1994)

the end is nigh...

Well it's been an interesting period of weeks. I've started my own unemployment (read stress, work and worry - but happier for sure) and have been reminded heavily of mortality. A reminder that has helped make me feel how much my decision to try and make it on my own is an important one.

The start of these lessons was, funnily enough a Scrub's episode. The Episode has Brendan Fraser back as Dr. Cox's best friend and semi-brother-in-law. The espisode ends with his funeral which brought a tear (awesome acting by John C. McGinley as usual). The scene plays out with a track of music called Winterwhich I tracked down and bought. The Artist's name is Joshua Radin and the enitre album We Were Here is amazing. I'm not a huge singer-songwriter fan but it is an amazing cd, made more so by the fact that he's not signed to any major label. Again, Zach Braff's great feeling and knowledge of music has brought this sartist to a wider audience.

Anyways, the deeper lesson happened merely weeks later when one of my best friend's father died. From thinking he had an inner ear infection to death - 19 days. Too fast for anyone to really understand what was happening. He died from Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease which has come to wider public awareness thanks to the latest varient Mad Cow's disease (who wouldd have thought that feeding cow meat to cow's would have gone awry huh...). The odds of getting one of the four strands of CJD is about one in two-million (the fifth is Mad Cow's and that's a different kettle of bad news). Peter Crook (R.I.P.) was 62 and in perfect health. He was in better shape than I've ever been in. If he was in poor shape he wouldn't have lasted the 19 days. When diagnosed they actually gave a maximum of 8 months but nobody was ready for a 19 day decline. It is such a sad event forr the entire family. The only thing I can think is that at least (the very least) it was over quickly. Having been around a drawn out terminal case (both my mother's parents) shows how hard it is for all concerned when the end is definite and the road there is tragic, lacking in peace or anything resembling personal dignity.

Along the same time my mother had her hip replaced which compared to death is a much less important thing but certainly makes you aware of the frailty of this vessel we truck around in during our brief stint on this mortal coil. Incredibly, it's a week in hospital and a 6 week reahbilitation (tough rehab but quick all the same). Amazing compared to medical technology even 5o years ago.

Finally, the most recent. Myra's father has been diagnosed with mouth cancer. He goes in for a biopsy today and an MRI next week. No idea on it's extent nor threat but it's a shadow hanging over the whole family. Not much to say about it at this stage really but I firmly believe that positivity is the only way through and a strong support. Fingers and toes crossed.

quote for the day:
"May you live as long as you wish and love as long as you live."
- Robert A. Heinlein (1907 - 1988)

My Pain And Sadness Is More Sad and Painful Than Yours

The title of this post is a Mclusky album title. I loved that band. Shame it imploded under it's own weight but there you go. At least they didn't fall apart from one of the usual musical cliches.

I watched yet another Inside The Actors Studio on the weekend. It's a great show and it seems to get a little more honesty out of people than many other shows, i guess as it's questioning them on their acting and inspiration rather than what fucking socks and aftershave they prefer it makes them less concerned about soundbyte attacks.

This episode's actor was Melanie Griffith and I was really blown away. I really felt a lot of compasion for her trials and tribulations. More and more we are given headlines of one celebrat-y or the other and their suffrage through fame, truckloads of cash and eventual drug-abuse. Oh, boo-hoo I often find myself saying. If only more people had your problems. While listening to M.Griffith talk about her career lows (and highs - it was mainly a positive tale) I started understanding a little more of the shite our so-called celebs face. The facade we see as average schmoos in the street is a far call from their realities. It also made me remember what a friend once said to me while I was wallowing in a breakup driven selfpity-fest and feeling guilty for being so self-involved at the time. She said that everyone's pain is relative. Just because you may be financially secure and seem to 'have it all' doesn't mean that you should belittle your own sadness just because on the other side of the globe people are dying in the street from starvation. Not to say that on a sliding scale the starving thing isn't a million times worse-it is-it's just that this one life is your experience and your's alone. If you're going to get everything out of the trip you have to appreciate it all, highs and lows.

Listening to Mrs Banderas made me realise how damn hard it can be for actors-who are driven by a different drum than most-to be told 'change your looks' or 'you'll never get work with that voice of yours'. Fuckers. It is a rare animal that could shrug off that sort of bullshit when they're just starting out. It's no surprise that cocaine becomes a problem when ego is a necessary requirement in acting and many suffer from a reverse one. Yep, some people just downright impress me in their ability to rise above their own imperfections. All I can hope is that I can do the same when required.

quote for the day:
"A book is like a man - clever and dull, brave and cowardly, beautiful and ugly. For every flowering thought there will be a page like a wet and mangy mongrel, and for every looping flight a tap on the wing and a reminder that wax cannot hold the feathers firm too near the sun."
- John Steinbeck (1902 - 1968)

interzone creative solutions

I've finally done my own business cards. My self-unemployment is almost legitimate. I have to say that designing your own cards is just a difficult process. Well, it was for me anyways.





quote for the day:
"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."
- William S. Burroughs (1914 - 1997)

the word

In the beginning
was NOT the word.

We were born
free of thought
and explanation.

In the beginning
was breath and nipple.

We learned to breathe
and press our lips
against the mother
before we spoke.

We learned to kiss
before we cursed.

In the beginning
was not the word.

Word is bond.
Bondage.

We were born free.

Language was
our first Master.

Until we mastered it.

Then we learned to ask
for what we could not reach.

The word empowered us.

Until we forgot
all about the mother
and the silent power
of a kiss...

Saul Williams