THE NEXT DOCTOR PREPARES FOR HIS GREATEST ADVENTURE ACROSS TIME AND SPACE

This was taken yesterday evening at Way Station in Brooklyn's Prospect Heights, the bar where I periodically host cult movie double features. The full-size Tardis is the entrance to the bathroom and its walls are adorned with actual graffiti by the current Doctor and the chick who plays Amy Pond. Sorry the light on top isn't visible.

THE "WOLVERINE MEETS FREDDIE MERCURY" POST MAKES IT TO ROLLING STONE

The now-infamous submission page.

Well, color me surprised...

Never in my wildest imaginings did I expect to see the "Wolverine meets Freddie Mercury" submission page that I received over a decade ago and posted here two years ago featured on the io9 website, and sure as hell didn't expect to see the page in question end up showcased on the ROLLING STONE web page, but such has come to pass and it can be seen here. If only they could get away with posting "Filthie Rich."

And in the interest of giving credit where credit is due, the page was first brought to my attention by my old friend and Bullpen brother Darren Auck, who at the time was the Bullpen's head of art corrections. As part of his duties, Darren received and perused countless submissions from aspiring artists, most of which were totally unusable crap, and he knew that I collected such anti-masterpieces in a thick binder, so when the submission in question fell into his hands he passed it on to me so I could photocopy it and add it to my collection, which I later digitized and posted here for posterity. And, boy, am I glad I did! I spoke to Darren about this sudden viral Internet presence not an hour ago and he told me he no longer had the original, it being lost to the mists of time and a ton of studio-cluttering junk that likely got thrown out. Let's hear it for being a pack-ratting, scanning geek blogger!

ARTIST COLLEN COOVER RE-INTERPRETS A CLASSIC FROM MY INFAMOUS SUBMISSIONS COLLECTION

Remember two years ago when I posted a classic from my infamous collection of crazy submissions found during my days in the Marvel Bullpen that featured Wolverine inexplicably running into Freddie Mercury in the middle of some random forest? Well, apparently artist Colleen Coover saw it and has been so haunted by its non sequitor imagery and tone that she's been moved to draw her own re-interpretation of it. Check this out:

Seriously, what's not to love here? Well done, Colleen!

And to truly give credit where credit is due, the submission in question was originally brought to my attention by Darren Auck, who was at the time the head of the Marvel Bullpen's art corrections section. He received tons of ludicrous submissions but that one practically exploded out of the envelope when he opened it. Knowing of my ever-growing binder filled with crazy submissions and letters — of which this was the most inspired but my no means the most genuinely insane — Darren let me photo copy it and now it's digitized and posted on the Internet, thus preserved for posterity.

Amanda Conner talks about 'Before Watchmen: Silk Spectre' and 'The Art of Amanda Conner' at Newsarama

The one and only Amanda Conner (or A.C. as I call her).

My old friend Amanda Conner's got a lot going on at the moment, namely her work as artist and co-writer (with Darwyn Cooke) on the upcoming BEFORE WATCHMEN: SILK SPECTRE and the career retrospective art book THE ART OF AMANDA CONNER, and she chats at length about both over at NEWSARAMA.

Regarding the art book, she called me in to work on it back in early November, figuring I'd witnessed the evolution of her skills and career since we were in our teens (back in the late-1800's) and I could write from that rather informed perspective, so I interviewed her at length, transcribed the interview and tightened it up for conversational readability — my goal was to have it read like Amanda was speaking directly with the reader — and wrote the descriptive and info text for the numerous examples of her illustrations. Oh, and I also wrote a heartfelt introduction to the book but considering that there are also testimonials from assorted big name creators in the comics biz, I'm not certain my intro will be used. I'll find out soon enough, though. The book hits comics shops today, so I'll see it for myself shortly. Anyway, pick up a copy!

Cover for THE ART OF AMANDA CONNER, with text by Yer Bunche.

R.I.P. JONATHAN FRID (1924-2012), THE SENSITIVE VAMPIRE OF THE '60'S

To horror fans of a certain age, the passing of Canadian actor Jonathan Frid truly marks the end of an era. Virtually forgotten after the advent of the 1970's, Frid enjoyed massive popularity as Barnabas Collins (seen at left), the sympathetic tragic vampire hero of DARK SHADOWS, an ABC daytime soap opera that ran from 1966-1971.

DARK SHADOWS started out inauspiciously as a straight Gothic soap opera that failed to light up the afternoon ratings, so when faced with cancellation the show-runners said "What have we got to lose?" and added Barnabas Collins, a late-18th century vampire, to the mix. (That move coincided with a renewed interest in old school horror and its archetypes that took place in the 1960's, as evidenced with the proliferation of stuff like FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine and the long-running line of classic movie monster model kits released by the Aurora company, a pop culture resurrection seen by some pop culture analysts as a reaction to the horrors of the Vietnam conflict.) The addition of the undead suckface did the trick and unexpectedly saved DARK SHADOWS from being relegated to the limbo of television obscura, propelling it almost overnight into the stratosphere of cult adulation, after which the series abruptly ended in 1971 without even bothering to give its viewers a proper ending to its storylines.

During DARK SHADOWS' four years as a pop culture phenomenon (its first year doesn't really count), Barnabas Collins became an ubiquitous presence and generated tons of merchandise while also appearing in the first of two theatrical translations of the TV series, HOUSE OF DARK SHADOWS (1970). With his unfortunate backstory and messed-up and largely miserable then-present day existence at Collinwood, fans took the 200-year-old vampire to heart and Jonathan Frid found himself admired as an unlikely sex symbol. His angst and drama-laden un-life can now be seen as a direct precursor to Anne Rice's VAMPRE CHRONICLES, the vampire-as-hunk Angel from BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, and the TWILIGHT deluge, only with Barnabas coming off as quite manly in a tortured way, as opposed to the flamboyant, egomaniacal foppery of Lestat de Lioncourt or the unintentionally-creepy emo stalker antics of Edward Cullen. (Angel gets a pass because he was pretty cool and he was all about the pussy in a non-Cullenesque way, plus he could be terrifying when necessary.) It's interesting to see that though Barnabas Collins had his roots in soap opera, he could still be a creature of genuine horror, while some of his more recent pop culture descendants contributed much that led to the current state of vampires as a pack of decidedly un-scary douchebags. I personally could not see Lestat or Edward having the stones to last more than a few moments in the presence of Christopher Lee's Count Dracula, while Barnabas would definitely have been able to hang and maybe even engage in some very interesting conversation on the actions that led both himself and the Count to their current positions as accursed and unholy creatures of the night. Which is not to say that Barnabas' soap opera origins did not lend him a certain cheesy floridness, as is evidenced in this cut from the DARK SHADOWS soundtrack LP, featuring Frid's singular tones as accompanied by what sounds like an electric sitar.

But all things must pass and just as DARK SHADOWS' time on the first-run airwaves did, so now has Frid, and with that in mind I bid him a fond rest and hope he has a better time of it than his most lasting thespic creation ever did.

COME ON, MAY 4th!!!

HAPPY TARZAN DAY!!! (and weekend)

Longtime readers of this blog know that Tarzan holds a very dear place in my heart and mind, so you can no doubt understand how much I wish I were in Morgan City, Louisiana this weekend. The whole thing kicked off yesterday with "Tarzan Day", so, seriously, how excellent is it that there's a weekend-long Tarzan festival going on? *SIGH* Click here for the details.

GARY NUMAN'S "FRIENDS"

An excellent modernized version of Numan's 1978 Tubeway Army classic.

OH, IF ONLY THIS WOULD HAPPEN IN REALITY...

Special thanks to Satyros for bringing this gem to my attention.

HAPPY EASTER!!!

HAPKIDO (1972)

The one and only Mao Ying, about to seriously beat some ass with her Hapkido school's "discipline rod."

Released in the States during the 1970's chopsocky boom as LADY KUNG FU, this martial arts genre entry from Golden Harvest looks for all the world to be a knockoff of the same studio's FIST OF FURY (aka THE CHINESE CONNECTION), which starred Bruce Lee and was released some seven months earlier to much critical and box office success. It's got the same virtuous "Chinese school versus raging vicious bastard Japanese dojo" setup as its more famous Bruce Lee-driven template and even possesses camera compositions that mirror some of the memorable bits from the fights in FIST OF FURY

Taking place in 1934 during the period when Japan was basically ass-fucking as much of Asia as possible, the film follows the well-intentioned but disaster-laden path of three Chinese Hapkido students — each of varying degrees of mastery — who leave their Korean master's tutelage and set up a Hapkido school in Chang Zhou area of China. Big brother and little sister duo Kao Chang (Carter Wong) and Kao Yu Ying (Mao Ying, best known to U.S. audiences as Bruce Lee's ill-fated sister in ENTER THE DRAGON)) and classmate Fan Wei (Sammo Hung, back when he was billed as Hung Chin Pao) are all upstanding young martial artists whose school, the "Eagle School of Hapkido," also sidelines in the healing arts — they give out medical aid to the locals for free because they're such nice badasses — and all they want to do is follow their teacher's wish to accept the entire martial arts community as one big family and be tolerant of other styles, even those practiced by the Japanese.

Needless to say, this would have been a short and boring martial arts film if our heroes stuck to such tolerance and sweet-natured pacifism, so it's up to hot-headed Fan Wei to get things rolling by ignoring his master's advised "forbearance" and handing out a well-earned beating to a couple of drunken dine-and-dashers who also molested a sweet young lady. Unfortunately for Fan Wei (but fortunately for ass-whuppin' fans), the thugs are affiliated with the Japanese-run Black Bear dojo, a festering hive of budoka assholism that's sure to press the buttons of all audience members. In no time, the Black Bear school seeks vengeance on the Eagle School, whom they also believe to be part of a Chinese rebel faction, and things swiftly escalate to the point of big brother Chang permanently losing the use of his right arm after a vicious fifteen-against-one beatdown, Fan Wei administering major-league lethal damage to a number of Black Bear scum for basically beating and torturing innocent citizens in the street (which results in him being forced to hide out from the Black Bears' leader), and the Black bear leader demanding both the turnover of Fan Wei and the surrender of the Eagle School so that it would now operate under his banner. That leaves poor Yu Ying to deal with a veritable torrent of shit while attempting to heed her teacher's wishes and stay cool no matter what, but with the Japanese cruelly amping up the evil at every opportunity and quite unashamedly having a ball doing so, such a state of affairs is simply not to be...

While marketed as a showcase vehicle for Mao Ying, especially when released here as LADY KUNG FU, HAPKIDO is really a fairly-divided showcase for Wong, Hung and Mao. Mao turns in the most blistering fights of her career (choreographed by Chu Yuan Lung) and the last act is especially satisfying as she gives full rein to her long pent-up and deeply righteous rage with surgical savagery in the execution of her techniques. Carter Wong, who toiled in many so-so efforts, is given the opportunity to shine here and he certainly makes the most of it. And a barely-20-year-old Sammo Hung gives us an early and spectacular display of his jaw-dropping and extremely concussive fat-boy skills, and it's a delight watching him beat the motherfucking shit out of bad guys who really, really need killing.

Long available in dodgy "gray market/ghetto" kung fu movie shops as LADY KUNG FU in an eye-wiltingly bad print, the remastered DVD is in widescreen and looks gorgeous, plus it has English and Chinese audio options featuring both the awful '70's dub and a new dub, as well as subtitles (the viewing option that I recommend because both English dubs are pretty bad) and the original Chinese-language trailer. But for all the remastering and new English dubbing that went into it, the film's restorers apparently forgot to include subtitles for the last bits of dialogue after the climactic fight scene. Whatever's said when the dust settles after that fight is probably moot so it's no big loss, but it does detract from the overall quality of this edition.

Nonetheless, HAPKIDO is a textbook example of exactly the kind of thrills that made old school chopsocky flicks so much fun — despite it being so blatantly derivative of its Bruce Lee precursor — and it's highly recommended to both veteran fans and newcomers alike. In the pantheon of popular favorites from the genre's golden age, HAPKIDO more than stands the test of time and is easily the hands down best of Mao Ying's feature vehicles.

Packaging from the remastered DVD.

AIN'T IT THE TRUTH...

From THAT WAS THE WEEK THAT WAS (1963), a look at the shameful twilight world of the heterosexual.

I CAN'T WAIT FOR MAY 4th...

I've been in love with the Black Widow since I was six, and her big-screen incarnation's lack of a Russian accent has done nothing to change that stance. Plus, Scarjo's a fox and a half.

THE FUCKENSTEIN POSTER IS AVAILABLE ONLINE!!!

Folks, the gloriously loony poster for Burning Angel's XXX parody FUCKENSTEIN just became available via their online store and it can be yours for a mere five bucks (excluding shipping), so what are you waiting for? Order yours today! It's the perfect accent to your basement/dungeon and the unshaded black light that hangs from its ceiling. Order by clicking here.

AN INSTANT CLASSIC PORN TITLE

Seriously, I have to own a copy of this, solely so its title is visible on my DVD shelf. I don't even care if the porn's any good.

TOTAL RECALL REMAKE TRAILER

Hmmm...

VIGILANTE (1983)

A minor classic of the "NYC violence/revenge" exploitation sub-genre, VIGILANTE is a film that greatly disturbed me when it came out, so once it finally became available on DVD, I decided to revisit it after nearly thirty years and see if it could possibly still affect me in such a way after all the nasty, nasty shit I've seen in movies since I was eighteen.

My man Fred Williamson as Nick, the very definition of the well-intentioned sociopath.

With VIGILANTE, director William Lustig — he of MANIAC (1980) infamy — crafts an '80's-to-the-core take on the established DEATH WISH scenario that opens with a pre-credits introduction to a group of citizens receiving a pep talk from a stogie-chomping Nick (my man Fred Williamson), the leader of the local "neighborhood watch," a cadre of toughs who handle what the police can't (or won't). This sequence sets the tone for the film's tense and dour attitude as Nick makes plain just how fucking sick he is of seeing the city become a morass of muggings, rape, drug dealing and all that kind of mess, with his speech serving to simultaneously rouse the territorially protective sentiments of the locals and possibly put the film's audience into a like mindset. That intro swiftly segues into the story proper, which begins with a woman entering the elevator in her tenement building, only to be abducted by a knife-wielding creep who hauls her up to the roof and rapes her (which we thankfully only see the preamble to). One of the building's residents, an elderly woman who was taking out her trash, witnesses the rapist making his escape, so none of the locals cooperate with the cops during their investigation because thanks to the old lady the vigilantes are on the case...

Contrasting Nick's no-nonsense eye-for-an-eye-ism is Eddie Marino, played by Robert Forster (who was excellent in JACKIE BROWN), an average Joe who's a mellow factory worker and doting family man who's also one of Nick's co-workers. When Eddie, Nick and some of their co-workers — who are also vigilantes — stop by a bar for some after work beers, one of the neighborhood cops drops in to cryptically warn that he and his fellow cops don't take kindly to citizens taking the law into their own hands and beating the living piss out of deserving scum. This exchange leads Eddie to ask Nick what it was all about, so Nick fills Eddie in on the whole vigilante posse thing. Since he's an optimist who sees a bright future for his family, Eddie isn't down with it and even asks Nick how he knows if he's any better than the vermin he opposes. Nick tellingly responds with how that's up to the individual to decide...

Once those opposing viewpoints are established, it's only moments until Eddie's wife runs afoul of Rico (Willie Colón), the vile leader of the equally-scabrous Headhunters street gang, whom she slaps in the face for dousing a gas station attendant with fuel when the attendant objects to the punk refusing to pay for a just-pumped tankful of gas. Followed home by Rico and his gang of scurvy thugs, she immediately finds herself on the receiving end of a home invasion that results in her toddler son being blown out of the third story window by a blast from a sawed-off shotgun and her barely surviving crippling injuries thanks to a stabbing just after witnessing her son's savage murder.

Prago (Don Blakely), all smiles a moment before blowing a toddler out a third-story window with a sawed-off shotgun.

When Rico, who has a rap sheet a mile long, is hauled in as the child's killer and receives a suspended sentence of two years from the corrupt judge, Eddie goes berserk in the court room and is himself sent up the river to Riker's Island for thirty days on a contempt of court charge. The rub here is that the actual killer of the child is gang member Prago (Don Blakely), but that plot point does not get addressed until the film's final act.

Once Eddie's in the slammer, legendary cinema badass Woody Strode protects him from being raped by a dude who looks like the sepia version of the Incredible Hulk, and during his stay we are led to believe that Eddie becomes hardened enough to willingly join Nick's vigilante force in order to exact even a measure of justice for his family.

"Thanks for the save from the shower room bufu, awesome nameless old dude!"

Meanwhile, during Eddie's absence, Nick and his posse have crossed the line from merely roughing-up creeps to outright outright murder, even killing folks who are not directly involved in the street messes the vigilantes seek to avenge, such as a crooked politician's driver and Rico's girlfriend. So it's a case of justifiable rage escalating into the realm of irredeemable, and once his court-mandated month in the slammer is up, Eddie's right there with Nick and friends in the thick of the lethal vengeance. Eddie even goes so far as to murder Prago — whose fall from a great height results in a great image of his body laying on the pavement with its brains splattered out — and he also suddenly gains expertise with rigging remote-controlled explosives that he uses to assassinate the corrupt judge who sent him to jail. The film then very abruptly ends with Eddie and the rest of the vigilantes still roaming the streets, presumably to continue killing at will.

The film goes out of its way to state that it's not an endorsement of vigilantism and depicts its well-meaning neighborhood patrol as every bit as savage as the scum they forcibly remove from the streets in their none-too-subtle black van and I suppose the ending was meant to be some sort of mordant commentary but the ending left me deeply saddened and in need of something to cleanse my palate of the bleakness piled on during the film's running time. When I first saw VIGILANTE, I had just arrived at college and had yet to undergo the considerable corruption and jading that my college years afforded me, so I was still not as de-sensitized by the excesses of certain types of exploitation fare as I would eventually become. I love urban vengeance films, having been a fan of the genre since seeing the original DEATH WISH (1974), but VIGILANTE goes into darker areas that are rendered pitch black by the grimy exploitation-style filmmaking (which is not to say that the film is not well-made) and the result is one of the biggest downers in the sub-genre. We see Eddie go from a loving family man to being a stone-faced killer in short order — we're talking just over a month, plus however long it takes for the presumed killer to go to trial — and unlike a number of other urban vengeance films I can name, there is no sense of triumph or audience catharsis at the open-ended climax of his journey. I'm assuming that was the point, but still...

Both during my original viewing and during when I recently watched it, the thing that most turned me off about this film was the bit where Prago blows the toddler out the window with a sawed-off shotgun. It's truly horrible and while I don't think the deaths of children should be verboten in movies — especially not in films of this nature — the way it was handled here is truly horrible to a Stygian degree. It's not as gory as I remembered it being, but the blanks that the mind fills in as opposed to what is actually depicted are absolutely horrifying and it's something I really could have done without. I remembered it as being a moment where the report of the gun is heard and immediately followed by what looked like weighty, bloody hunks of meat propelled through the window and seen from the mother's point of view in the backyard, but what's actually seen is simply a gout of stage blood and no body. Nonetheless, it remains too nasty even for me.

The rest of the film is not an action flick, despite it being described as such in several online reviews, but rather a fairly serious look at vigilantism and how it can get out of hand. It's much more low key and thoughtful than a film of this ilk is supposed to be, and maybe that's why it hasn't vanished into the ether along with many other grindhouse efforts from its era. Oh, and among the film's highlights are:

• The film taking place in the cinema-verse's New York that's a veritable jungle of sociopaths, ranging from roving, fetishized multi-ethnic street gangs to appointed government officials. This is one of those New Yorks where the police exist for no real purpose other than to be completely impotent, pay lip service to investigating, and openly state that they don't condone vigilantism.
• Fred Williamson as Nick turns in what may be his very best performance.
• A moment that only people from the Tri-State Area at the time would find both true and hilarious: As Eddie pursues Prago with the intent to kill him, Prago steals a car and peels out, immediately turning the car's radio to WBLS.
• Even with the considerable amount of suspension of disbelief required for the exploitation genre in general and revenge pics in particular, proficiency with an RC toy airplane does not automatically translate to expertise with radio-controlled high explosives. Eddie's dispatching of the crooked judge would have been more believable in the context of a film like THE MECHANIC (1972).

Depressing though it may be, VIGILANTE is '80's to the core and is worth a look for vengeance cinema completists. Just don't expect to feel like life is worth living after sitting through it.