THE KARATE KID (2010)

The 1984 KARATE KID has become one of the indelible favorites of those who were there when it came out and of those who discovered it later via cable or VHS, which only makes sense due it being a "rah rah" feelgood tale of an underdog who becomes a winner thanks to his relationship with an aged martial artist mentor. Feeling very much like ROCKY — which also made sense because both films shared a director — , THE KARATE KID was a good flick for its time and deserves its fondly-remembered status, largely for the touching and inspirational chemistry between stars Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita, but, to me, it has dated badly and now feels like just another of the legion of classic '80's movies that I really don't need to see again. Since the original there have been two straight-up sequels and one failed attempt at a series reboot starring Hilary Swank (the less said of those, the better), but by then it was clear that the tit had run dry.

As has been clearly illustrated over the past decade or so, the American moviegoing audience loooooves the familiar, hence the deluge of sequels, "re-imaginings," reboots and remakes, so perhaps it was inevitable that THE KARATE KID would be up for such re-consideration. The kids of the '80's have had their beloved G.I. JOE, TRANSFORMERS, A TEAM and, soon,THUNDERCATS kickstarted for the big screen to varying degrees of success, so why not THE KARATE KID?

Re-tooled as a starring vehicle for young Jaden Smith (the spawn of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett), this new version keeps the basics of the original but ups the ante considerably in various aspects. Twelve-year-old Dre (Smith) moves to China when his mother gets a new job (exactly what her job is remains unexplained) and finds himself dropped head first into an alien culture where he does not speak the language and sticks out like a sore thumb (his race is not explicitly presented as an issue in the script, but the implication is there). On top of being miserable over being ripped from his familiar turf and friends in Detroit, Dre is soon targeted by a gaggle of young kung fu students, the baddest of whom, a kid named Cheng (Zhenwei Wang), does not like that Dre has an innocent crush on local girl Mei Ying (Wen Wen Han). After being on the receiving end of a savage beatdown from Cheng, Dre is spectacularly rescued by his building's maintenance man, Mr. Han (Jackie Chan, whose character is perhaps unintentionally named after the villain from ENTER THE DRAGON) and begins a regimen of martial training that will allow him to compete in an upcoming open kung fu tournament and theoretically win his enemies' respect. There are of course other minor complications, but you get the idea: this is the KARATE KID story transplanted to a different place and culture, and if you ask me it's all the better for it (despite the idiotic titling; there is no trace of Japanese arts in this film and find the titling choice both insulting and culturally offensive, but what can ya do?).

Jaden Smith: a surprise and a revelation as the remake's protagonist, leaving Ralph Macchio's Daniel LaRusso in the dust.

The original film's narrative was fun for what it was, but the remake ups the ante in several interesting ways. Dropping Dre into a totally different culture from his own is enough of an obstacle for the character, but, unlike RalphMacchio's Daniel LaRusso , Dre does not speak the language and is also obviously visually different from the natives of China, which, while not explicitly stated, is certainly implicit in his struggle against Cheng, his douchey buddies, and, by association, their complete balls-out fucking asshole of a sifu (who offends my own martial sensibilities waaaaaaaay worse than Martin Cove's admittedly assholish Cobra-Kai sensei in the original). Dre's awakening to his path of martial enlightenment is also superior to Daniel LaRusso's by virtue of him being in the land that is the very heart and sole of kung fu , with Han's taking him on a journey to a sacred mountain that blows the nuts off of any Jedi training we've seen in the STAR WARS films. As Dre makes his way up the mountain, he witnesses firsthand several individuals who have given themselves utterly to becoming one with the martial/spiritual way and it moves him to his young core. Of particular interest is an unbilled moment when Michelle Yeoh — she of YES, MADAM and CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON fame — is glimpsed by Dre as she portrays an adept who, precariously perched upon one of the mountain monastery's outcroppings, executes some serious non-violent crane-style technique with a king cobra as a participant. If I saw that shit it would have totally re-arranged my thinking, and that's exactly what happens to Dre.

Jackie Chan as Han is a breath of fresh air after over three decades of may good but self-repeating performances, as this film allows him to play serious and dramatic. I won't spoil it, but next to his work in the two classic DRUNKEN MASTER films, this is my favorite of his roles.

But the most interesting of the remake's tweakings is the level of brutal violence committed upon Dre by his tormentors, a level of savagery made all the worse by how young its perpetrators are. It's the skilled yet animalistic evil to Dre's beatdowns by another prepubescent that is frankly disturbing, a sense of innocence corrupted, all because of a teacher who has the moral/spiritual grounding of a thinly-disguised sadist/sociopath.

I could go on and outline all of what I find fun and worthwhile about this remake, but I would prefer it if you got to experience it for yourself. Bad choice of title notwithstanding, this is my vote for the best film of the rather lackluster 2010 summer blockbuster season. TRUST YER BUNCHE and see it if it's still playing near you, or check it out on DVD and cable in the months to come.

"KLAATU BARADA NIKTO": R.I.P. PATRICIA NEAL (1926-2010)

Patricia Neal as Helen Benson in the science-fiction classic THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL (1951).

There are few science-fiction films that loom as large in my estimation as the sober and very serious THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL (1951), the tale of the Earth's first contact with an advanced extra-terrestrial envoy who offers humanity a terrifying ultimatum and displays his vast power in a manner whose very very quietness only ups the potential horror. The thing most intrigues me about that film is not the admittedly awesome alien —Klaatu, unforgettably portrayed by Michael Rennie — but rather the all-too-human Helen Benson, an utterly ordinary single mom who unknowingly rents a room to the disguised spaceman. Serving as the everyman through whom the alien gets to see the worthiness of the human race, Helen gets my vote as the most important and believable human character in the history of first contact movies, and it is her actions that end up saving the world from swift and utter annihilation. She is also the character who utters the now-familiar/immortal phrase "Klaatu barado nikto," and if you have no idea what that means I urge you, no, I fucking command you to rent the original THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL immediately. On the short list of "The 5 Most Significant Science-Fiction Films Ever Made," THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL rates right near the top position, and Patricia Neal is one of the elements that places it there.

SUNDAY'S PORN DAY!

More new releases, kiddies! First up is this charmer that apparently promotes pride in candid self-awareness.

Next, we get this ebony-themed offering that completely eschews any attempt at a clever title and just tells it like it is.

Exactly what the hell is this?

Not only is the Sarah Jessica Parker-looking chick taking a deep drag thoroughly unappealing, you know you're in trouble when the marketers choose to emblazon the packaging with a reviewer's straight-up declaration that the flick is "not terribly erotic." Did this strike no one else as working against purposes?

I suppose a GHOSTBUSTERS-related porno was inevitable, in fact I bet at least one exists prior to this one, but the tag line of "Who ya gonna fuck?" is both hilarious and inspired in its utter simplicity.

Maybe now we'll see a version of that scene between Ray Stantz (Dan Aykroyd) and that gorgeous blonde ghost taken to its obvious conclusion outside of a PG-rated context.

I'm including this one sight unseen as a shout-out to the adorable Lexi Belle, she whose performance as Batgirl in BATMAN XXX moved me so deeply.

She's cute as hell (this photo does not do her justice) and an enthusiastic on-camera presence, so I'm happy to be a booster.

Ooooookay...

I dunno about you, but when I think soccer the first thing that comes to mind is nailing the entire team up the poop chute (provided they're girls, of course) and it's reassuring to see that the adult video industry has taken my needs into account. I guess.

Lastly, here's BAR PUSSY, presumably an ode to the charming ladies who frequent the watering holes of our fine nation and willingly offer up their own watery holes to to the horny denizens of those fine establishments.

YET MORE GEEKY AUTOGRAPHED PHOTOS!

Time for more autographed photos, so away we go!

Just before my birthday, Lincoln Center ran a festival of Asian cinema and one of my heroes, the baddest-assed fat due ever, the mighty Sammo Hung, was scheduled to appear. Unfortunately, I couldn't be there, but my old friend and mentor Ric Meyers — one of the country's top experts on Asian cinema and martial arts movies — went to the show and got me Sammo's autograph on the show's program.

I wish I'd met him personally, but this is a good substitute. Thanks, Sifu!

Causing my collection of signatures from the Adam West BATMAN series to swell is this great shot of '60's pop sensation Lesley "It's My Party" Gore as Pussycat, Catwoman's protegee who seduced Robin and briefly turned him to the Dark Side.

Later coming out of the closet (which lent her classic songs a whole new dimension) and covering AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)" — and no, I'm not kidding about that — I will always have a kind word for Lesley Gore.

She's been dead for a few years but considering my jungle girl fixation, how could I not want a signed shot of Irish McCalla?

Yes, Sheena, Queen of the Jungle herself. A striking woman if ever I saw one, she reminds me of Jamie Pressly in a leopard skin (an idea I like quite a lot, thank you very much; c'mon, Jamie! Do it for Yer Bunche!).

Now we get to the George A. Romero section. If you have even the most cursory knowledge of horror films, you should who Romero is, but in case you don't, he's the director who forever revolutionized scary movies when he unleashed NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968) upon an unsuspecting world, traumatizing a generation of kids in the process. I've read several accounts of how parents dropped off their little darlings at the local matinee for what they thought was just going to be another run-of-the-mill fright flick, and when they returned to pick up the kiddies, the wee ones were reduced to a state of crying, terrified shock. For that alone I will always have a warm spot for Romero and many of his films.

Romero's MARTIN (1978) was a quiet little film that examined the vampire legend from several intriguing angles, following its tortured titular character who was played by John Amplas, whose autograph is seen below.

It's not for all tastes, but I very much recommend it if you haven't seen it. MARTIN is a bleak and melancholy work and it's the perfect antidote for all that TWILIGHT bullshit.

Without question, my favorite Romero film is 1979's apocalyptic DAWN OF THE DEAD, the first truly ultra-gory film I ever saw in the theater and one of my favorite films from any genre. It's character study of four people who take refuge from a worldwide zombie plague in a shopping mall and it's compelling, visceral stuff from start to finish. One of the keys to its landmark status is the performance of Ken Foree as Peter, a skilled S.W.A.T. team operative who was perhaps the most badassed black man seen onscreen in the '70's next to ENTER THE DRAGON's Jim Kelly. I don't think I have to tell you what it means to see one of your own onscreen possessed of dignity, intelligence and massive bravery, so Peter made a huge impression upon me that remains to this very day and meeting Ken Foree made me feel very glad in my heart. The dude was massive — I swear his and was as big as my head — and very nice, and I'm glad I got to thank him for bringing such an awesome black hero to the screen.

Also from DAWN OF THE DEAD was David Emge as the terrifically assholish (and all-too-human for it) Stephen, aka "Flyboy, and since I had the opportunity I figured I'd get his John Hancock for posterity.

Then came George Romero himself, and the venerable cinematic helmsman could not possibly have been more of a sweetheart.

Yer Bunche and George A. Romero.

Needless to say, I had to have his autograph (seen below), and sooner or later I'm going to frame it and hang it from my wall.

And since Romero, Emge and Foree were all in the same place at once, I figured I'd get all of their signatures on my favorite publicity shot from DAWN OF THE DEAD.

Someday I hope to get Scott H. Reiniger and Gaylen Ross to complete this monument to skin-crawling excellence...

Legendary makeup artist and specialist in shocking gore effects Tom Savini has long been the subject of horror fans' fascination, thanks to his groundbreaking and creative work as seen in MARTIN (1978), DAWN OF THE DEAD (1979), FRIDAY THE 13th and MANIAC (both 1980), THE BURNING (1981), CREEPSHOW (1982) and many others. Here's Savini as seen in Romero's KNIGHTRIDERS (1981)...

..and his memorable guest voice appearance on THE SIMPSONS.

And last, but definitely not least, is this shot of William Smith, a gift from my pal Big Black Paul.

Smith is a legendary heavy from works such as DARKER THAN AMBER (1970), GRAVE OF THE VAMPIRE (1974), BOSS NIGGER (1975, though obviously not as the title character), and the unforgettable ratfuck bastard Falconetti in RICH MAN, POOR MAN (1976). But to me, Smith will always be Conan the Barbarian's dad (from the classic 1982 sword & sorcery epic), the man who forged an awesome sword and enlightened the young hero to the Riddle of Steel. Plainly and simply awesome.

RECENT COMICS ROUNDUP: A RETRACTION

Cover of THE WALKING DEAD #75.

If you saw my previous post on the recent comics I've read, you'll recall that I maligned the ending of the latest issue of THE WALKING DEAD for what I felt was a trite and fucking stupid ending. I still won't spoil exactly why it aroused my ire, but my pal Jared of the Mountains clued me in on the fact that was a joke, the explanation of which can be found on the issue's letters page that I did not read. Read the issue and then look for the yellow highlighted note among the letters. All is explained and now that I know what was going on, I take back my earlier harsh assessment. The shit's funny.

JIM STARLIN INTERVIEW IS UP!

Yer Bunche, enjoying some quality time with a sexy extra-terrestrial echidnoderm.

My recent interview with comics' master of the "cosmic" saga, Jim Starlin, is up over at PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

RECENT COMICS ROUNDUP

It's that time again, so here we go with a look at some of the recent stuff stocking the shelves at your local comics shop!

RAWHIDE KID: THE SENSATIONAL SEVEN #1 (of 4)

Marvel brings back the gay interpretation of the Rawhide Kid and this time they get it right. While displaying some of the usual stereotypical tropes exhibited by homosexual characters as handled in the mainstream, this gay caballero is both a top-level gunfighter and a serious badass whose toughness is countered by his lavender ways. This first issue has Rawhide (nee Johnny Bart) begin gathering a posse of renowned good guy gunslingers to aid him in taking on an army of owlhoots who intend to hang the captive Earp Brothers, and his first recruit is none other than Annie Oakley. Fun from start to finish and illustrated with his usual visual panache by Howard Chaykin, this gets a big "Hell, yeah!"

RAWHIDE KID: THE SENSATIONAL SEVEN #2 (of 4)

Rawhide's recruitment campaign continues amidst much humor and badassery, and among those joining his crew are Marvel western mainstays Kid Colt, the Two-Gun Kid, and Red Wolf (who's studying for a Harvard law degree and is psyched to be included because he gets to kill pale faces), along with real-life badass Doc Holliday. There's even a throwaway bit in which Rawhide "outs" a certain lawman and his faithful Indian sidekick that's sure to render my pal Big Black Paul irate, if you ask me it seems like Rawhide's talking shit based on supposition rather than concrete knowledge, but then again what do I know?

BIRDS OF PREY #3

The fun keeps on coming as scripter Gail Simone continues to rock like the badass she is. I won't tell you what it's about, but I will urge you pick this up if you aren't already reading it. I also recommend any and all of the collected editions of the earlier run of BIRDS OF PREY, especially Gail's stuff. Best female-centric superhero book out there and it always goes straight to the top of my "must-read" stack.

ZATANNA #3

The first story arc wraps in a very satisfying manner and both art and script work in perfect concert with one another. Though not as heady as Doctor Strange's downright hallucinogenic exploits, Zatanna's magical adventures are a hell of a lot of fun and if the series maintains the level of quality found in the initial three issues, I'll be along for the duration.

THE FLASH #4

I am thoroughly enjoying what Geoff Johns is doing with the (unnecessary) return of the Barry Allen Flash, and this latest chapter just moves along like a well-oiled machine when bringing the fun. Definitely worth reading and seeking out the previous installments.

THE WALKING DEAD #75

The bleakest ongoing book in American comics continues apace, as series protagonist Rick seriously loses his shit. I enjoyed this issue until its last seven pages, a section that features one of the hoariest "twist" gimmicks in comics, and it's something I've felt has been played out to the Nth degree for decades... Hopefully the next chapter won't be an issue's-worth of (SPOILER DELETED).

FANTASTIC FOUR #581

Yaaaaaaawn...Yet more time travel mishegoss. Once more dredging up one of my least favorite minor FF characters, namely Reed's dad, Nathaniel Richards, this installment sees Nathaniel traveling back to Reed and ben's college days to recruit them and Victor von Doom for a mission that will save...the...Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...Whoa! Sorry, I was dozing. It may be time to once more give my favorite Marvel superteam a miss...

FANTASTIC FOUR ANNUAL #32

Better than FF#581, mostly by virtue of the gorgeous Bryan Hitch artwork, this annual is a nod to FANTASTIC VOYAGE in which our heroes get small and venture into the body of Johnny's recent date, who has turned up pregnant. Not all is as it seems and what transpires is definitely not uninteresting — I love the idea of the Human Torch finally finding himself in the position of possibly being a father after one of his countless conquests — but the reveal of the piece's villain is majorly anti-climactic and actually derails what could have been something other than a standard slugfest. Worth a read, but inevitably mediocre storywise.

THE BOYS #45

In part two of "Believe," the shit hits the fan as Annie informs Hughie of the fact that not only is she a superhero, she's also a member of the Seven, the vile pack of super-assholes that Hughie and the Boys are striving to eventually take down. There's other stuff going on here but the romance between Hughie and Annie has charmed me since this series' early days, and now the bloom is definitely off the rose...

AVENGERS PRIME #2 (of 5)

It's all about Alan Davis' art as Thor, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark find themselves in all manner of deep shit while separated and lost in the realms of Norse mythology. The story's decent, but it definitely takes a backseat to the eye candy.

WONDER WOMAN #601

After all the hooplah over J.M. Straczinski taking over both Wonder Woman and Superman in hope that he could breathe new creative life into them, I was surprised to find that I did not hate his take on the Amazing Amazon, even though he basically erased all of her previous history and Greek mythology-based origin story (more or less). I'm a Wonder Woman booster and would like nothing more than to see her in the hands of a writer who gives her some personality, rather than having her just being the visually iconic prototype for the comic book super-female. Superb BIRDS OF PREY and SECRET SIX scribe Gail Simone gave it a valiant shot during her tenure on the series, but I'm willing to bet that her run didn't catch creative fire due to the Powers That Be at DC not letting her have any fun with their most marketable female character and shake things up, so Straczinski's run doesn't even try to deal with Wonder Woman's established and somewhat moribund status quo. Instead, he wipes the slate clean with a literal deus ex machina and gives us a Diana who was sent, Moses/Superman-like to be raised among mortals. In this current Straczinski-dictated reality, Diana is still figuring out some of her abilities while trying to track down Amazon diaspora while they are being hunted to extinction by some as yet unexplained genocidal bad guys. She's certainly tough and badassed but, as this issue was filled mostly with exposition, there was no room to see how Straczinski handles Diana as a character. What will he bring to the plate in terms of giving her a personality? I hope to find out next issue.

SUPERMAN #701
So J.M. Straczinski's way to reboot Superman is to have him walk across America in an attempt to re-connect with the common man...Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the Green Lantern and Green Arrow do pretty much the same thing forty years ago? This initial chapter of "Grounded" (following a prologue in the previous issue) features Superman walking around Philadelphia and, other than talking a woman out of killing herself, pretty much does fuck all. The attempt at Capra-esque sentiment and homespun charm rings as false and also makes no sense, coming as it does after Superman (and consequently Clark Kent) being away from his job, his wife and the planet for a year (in a truly worthless story arc), and it's a total waste of the character. A major portion of the character's appeal is him doing "super" things. Shit, his fucking name is goddamned Superman, for fuck's sake! And what does Straczinski have him do? Use his x-ray vision to tell some Joe Sixpack that his car's fuel line is clogged. No, seriously. Yeah, there's a bit where Superman uses his heat vision to burn up some drug labs, but it's a big yawner. If this is how DC plans to save the Man of Steel and keep him current, you can count me out.

GREEN ARROW #2

Other than an entertaining sequence in which Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen hand out ass-kickings to a small army of heavily-armed assailants, there's nothing going on here. Seriously, why is this even being published? The adventures of the Green Arrow have pretty much been a creative black hole for years, so why perpetuate the misery by allowing him to headline an ongoing book? Is it a tax write-off or something? I like Ollie quite a lot, but his being a strong enough character to headline his own book has been open to debate for a long time and it's obvious that there is still much to debate. I say use him judiciously in guest appearances until someone has a story about him that's really worth telling.

GREEN LANTERN #56

More twisted fun as things with the Orange Lantern, Larfleeze, get interesting with an assist from Hector Hammond. Good stuff, but unless you you've been reading this run of GREEN LANTERN since issue #1, you'll likely be lost. Backtracking to the early collected editions is advised.

CODENAME KNOCKOUT: THE DEVIL YOU SAY (trade paperback)

Proving once again that Vertigo is scraping the barrel for stuff to collect and reprint (while still neglecting the excellent FINALS for no good reason), here comes the CODENAME: KNOCKOUT book that absolutely no one clamored for. In case you missed it the first time around (2001-2003), it was written by Robert Rodi and is his comedic take on the Modesty Blaise/Willie Garvin thing, only in this case the Willie character, Go-Go Fiasco, is flamboyantly gay and the Modesty stand-in, Angela Devlin, is black. They're globe-trotting secret agents and there's sex & violence and panel after panel of what amounts to pinup art galore, but it was clear early on that this series was a one-joke pony and that only a minor miracle could prevent it from repeating itself after around five or six issues. That miracle never happened and despite the efforts of a revolving door of artists (including my old pal Amanda Conner), CODENAME: KNOCKOUT soon vanished into obscurity. Now it's back, in case you feel like throwing away 19.99 on seven issues of mostly stiff art that betrays its photo referenced roots. I would advise picking up any actual Modesty Blaise collection instead, even the stuff drawn by Enrique Romero.

LISZTOMANIA AT LINCOLN CENTER

Yer Bunche, in front of an original one-sheet for Ken Russell's infamous THE DEVILS (1971).

I just got back from what can only be considered a perfect day (okay, the heat and humidity sucked, but you know what I mean) and I am in one hell of a good mood. I hit my favorite comics shop — where I saw that the issue of FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND containing my PREDATOR retrospective has come out; it's the July issue, so get yours today! — had dinner and drinks with the coolest woman I've been involved with since maybe ever (more on her as things develop), and then she and I took our buzzed asses over to Lincoln Center's Walter Reade Theater for a rare screening of director Ken Russell's balls-out insane masterpiece, LISZTOMANIA (1975) as part of a retrospective called "Russellmania."

My love of both Russell and LISZTOMANIA have been previously discussed, so I'll leave that out. Instead I would like to mention how cool it was to finally see the film projected after having seen it on VHS and a DVD-rom burned from the VHS (the film is not available on DVD in the U.S.) many times over the past twenty-five years, and also recently on the British Region 2 disc (get an all-regions player; you won't regret it!). Russell's "BIOGRAPHY on peyote" take on the life of classical composer Franz Liszt is a sumptuous visual madhouse that fairly explodes across the screen and the only way to truly appreciate its art direction and detail-crammed frames is to see it projected. Seriously, I could not have been happier to experience it all proper (as A CLOCKWORK ORANGE's Alex would no doubt say) and I was glad to be able to share the film with my new lady-friend, who had never seen it and came out of the movie with a look on her face like one would expect if she's been smacked in the head with a shovel. That's exactly how I felt when I first saw it back in 1985 while high and drunk out of my skull on bad ditch-weed and cheap white wine, and when I sobered up I watched it again and found that seen either sober or completely ripped to the tits, the effect was much the same. LISZTOMANIA is without question Ken Russell's most utterly bonkers major work — his most bonkers minor work would certainly be THE FALL OF THE LOUSE OF USHER — and one's enjoyment of its charms are contingent upon how much over-the-top shamelessly blatant "symbolism" the individual viewer can stomach, plus to say nothing of its heavy lashings of bad taste and offensiveness. That kind of stuff is right up my alley, so I guess my enjoyment of it was a given, but when I showed LISZTOMANIA to a group of friends in Westport over two decades ago, all of them practically turned on me and burned me at the stake in sheer outrage and dislike over the film, so keep that in mind before inflicting it on your pals.

When my lovely date and I entered the theater's lobby, I immediately spotted Ken Russell himself, seated on a chair and resting on his cane. My heart leaped into my mouth and I went over to him, speaking in a clam and quiet register so as not to disturb the frail post-stroke eighty-three-year-old auteur. I told him of my admiration for his work and the sheer elephant-balls he had for putting it onscreen, and he graciously allowed me to get a photo with him.

Fuck George Lucas: I got to meet Ken motherfucking Russell!!!

The audience seemed rather sedate during most of the film, but that's probably due to the fact that LISZTOMANIA is a film that only well-seasoned LISZTOMANIA fans were likely to venture forth to see on the big screen, and that theory was kind of proven during the after-movie Q&A session, in which the reverent audience asked mostly very intelligent questions that proved their familiarity with the material. My favorite moment was when the son of Holocaust survivors commended and thanked Russell for "having the balls" to depict the horrors of the rise of Nazism in his signature satirical fashion, a sentiment I share because I remember nearly shitting myself from the sheer shock of seeing the film's Frankenstein/Wagner/Hitler for the first time, and image I simply could not believe anyone could be mad enough to have come up with it.

No, you are not going insane: It's Frankenstein/Wagner/Hitler! (Double-click on it to see it large.)

I myself did not ask a question, but instead I told Mr. Russell how at the age of ten I dragged my bewildered parents to see TOMMY when it was released, an experience that made me a Russell fan for life, and I went on to thank him for making some of the most visually and intellectually challenging films ever made, a statement I made on behalf of all in attendance. That was met with a round of applause, and a very pleased Mr. Russell beamed as he offered his thanks to me. I felt like a kid who'd just been kissed by the cute girl next door, and my heart soared.

When the audience finally made its way out, I hang around and chatted with a couple of fellow film-minded friends who happened to also be there (including my old pal Scooter, who filmed the Q&A for posterity) and Mr. Russell was kind enough to autograph my copy of PHALLIC FRENZY, an excellent chronicle of the man's chequered career.

The simple fact of the matter is that Ken Russell is most likely not long for this world, and meeting him and getting to tell him to his face how much his films mean to me before he leaves us is one of the top moments of my life. Along with John Waters, Ken Russell is my favorite "filth elder" (as John Waters describes himself) and there will never be another like him.

PROMISES, PROMISES

Yer Bunche, taking a rare break at the Quarter pub last Friday night.

Dear Vaulties-

I'm as sick as you are of me periodically having to state my intent to post more stuff with some semblance of regularity, but my ongoing job search, stress-related insomnia and a budding romance have taken up much of my time and focus (frankly, I wish that last one were taking up more of my time). You have not been forgotten, and don't forget that writing my drivel actually helps to keep me centered, so I'm missing it along with you. I promise to get back on the stick, and upcoming posts will include:

• Reviews of THE KARATE KID (2010 version), A TOWN CALLED PANIC, UNDER THE RED HOOD, IP MAN 2, TRUE LEGEND, OSS 117: LOST IN RIO, ASTERIX AND THE VIKINGS, GOLGO 13 VOL. 1., FIST OF THE NORTH STAR TV SERIES VOL. 1 (Episodes 1-36) and WEREWOLF IN A WOMEN'S PRISON
• A recounting of the upcoming Lincoln Center screening of LISZTOMANIA, with director/madman Ken Russell in attendance (I'm angling to meet him and get a photo with him, so wish me luck)
• Another recent comics roundup
• Whatever else comes to mind
  

Soon, o faithful readers, soon...

SUNDAY'S PORN DAY!

If you are a fellow student of old school porn, you no doubt recall the mighty Peter North, the Canadian-born mainstay of '80's smut who started out in gay porn and whose legend was assured by his practically superhuman capacity for ejaculations containing enough sheer seminal volume to get a legion of women pregnant with every shot. Famously (and accurately) nicknamed "The Decorator," North toiled in the front lines of the adult video industry for years, eventually breaking into directing, and now his legacy is celebrated with a four-disc set from the "Legends of Porn" series.

Simply put, the guy's performances were quite impressive and many a belly and face found itself festooned with 98.6-degree gobbets of his DNA, leaving the lass on the receiving end looking like someone had just thrown a cup of Jergens lotion at her, so it was perhaps inevitable that North's truly seminal work would be thus commemorated. If you've never seen North's bacon bazooka deliver one of its storied payloads, you owe it to yourself to check this out if for no other reason that its non-CGI "Holy shit!" value.

As expected, the parody deluge continues unabated and this spoof of the beloved sitcom TAXI is the latest of that questionable lot.

Sure, many of us rubbed one out to the titian-tressed charms of Marilu Henner as hotter-than-shit cabbie Elaine Nardo, so at least that aspect of this video makes sense, but was there really ever anyone out there who fantasized about the sex lives of Alex Rieger, Latka Gravas, or Reverend Jim? That last one is something I do not want to contemplate, in much the same way that the mere thought of Cthulhu and the other "Old Ones" drives sane men into states of gibbering madness, but the crowning anti-achievement of this release is the casting of singularly unattractive-yet-inspirational pork sword grandmaster Ron Jeremy as Louie DePalma, the role that made Danny DeVito famous. At no point during my many hours spent watching the original TAXI did an image of Louie making the beast with two backs with anyone cross my mind, so thank you, o porn filmmakers for giving me that charming sight to ruminate upon.

On the other end of the spectrum is the apparently dead-serious porn version of HAMLET.

The Bard certainly never shied away from interpersonal entanglements for his characters, but I very much doubt he ever intended for Gertrude to be depicted getting spit-roasted by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern while Prince Hamlet, the brooding Dane, lapped the crotch of Ophelia like a dog enthusiastically scouring his food bowl for the last traces of Alpo and its attendant jellied gravy. I'm a bit of a Shakespeare fan, so, purely in the name of furthering my studies of post-modern interpretations of the great playwright's works, I think I'll have to check this one out. Purely for scholarly reasons, of course...