"Pan's Labyrinth" & "The Fountain" Now On DVD

The two finest films of 2006 (in my humble opinion, and you know I know what I'm talkin' about) were released on DVD yesterday, so now you have no excuse for not having your senses dazzled, your emotions stirred, and your intellect stimulated (yes, Virginia, they are not mutually exclusive...) by two of today's most ambitious and versatile young directors.

I reviewed the North American debuts of Guillermo Del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth" and Darren Aronosfky's "The Fountain" at last fall's Toronto International Film Festival--click on either title to read my thoughts. So get renting already (better yet, buy 'em--they're worth revisiting again and again...)

Farewell "Smokey": 1993-2007

A day after the two-year anniversary of the death of our tortie Molly, sad news arrives from home. "Smokey", my grandmother's cat, is gone. He'd not been his usual bratty self these past few weeks and despite a recent pep-up in behavior, he was diagnosed with a stomach tumour and immediately had to be put down today (I've always hated that expression, but what else do you say?).

Smokey was named by my cousin Ashton for his grey-black coat, and he was very much a boy cat in his early years, disappearing for days and re-appearing on my grandmother's doorstep with a chomp out of his ear after god-knows-what-happened. As he grew older, he became less of a wanderer, and was quite the manipulative show-off. I'll miss his head-butts as he cried out for milk, his frantic digging for his toys (his favorite was a stuffed bumble-bee) whenever guests were around (my grandmother says he rarely played with them when it was just the two of them), and his adorable non-meow, which sounded like a melodic croak.

I'm sure my grandmother is very lonely tonight, having had a wonderful companion for 13 years. I'll miss Smokey, too, and visits home won't be the same--it's such a sad thing that our pets don't last as long as we do, and even sadder when they don't get to live out all of those years to the end...

05/14: A Sad Day...

This is Molly, who we lost two years ago on this day to a rare form of feline cancer that she cruelly acquired even though she remained an indoor cat for the entirety of her life for which there was no shortage of love and the very best of things from food to health care. So today, we'd like to celebrate the beginning of her too-short time with us--this frame grab is from when she was only six months old and mere days into enjoying her exciting life outside the Etobicoke Animal Shelter.

Amazon Don't Know Diddly...

Thought I'd share the latest crap "recommendation" from the insidious intelli-bot at Amazon.com, which allegedly analyzes my searches and purchases and tries to match me up with merchandise that will compliment what it perceives as my "tastes".

Because it caught me looking at Frank Miller's "Sin City" hardcover collection (although I've already got the paperback compilations and good many of the original single issues), Amazo-Droid figure I'd be interested in something called "Hanami: International Love Story" and sent me an email chock full of exclamation marks.

Here's a bit from the plot synopsis:

Seventeen-year-old Joonho Suk just had the best day of his life. He finally got the guts to ask out his big crush, Sae-un, and she said yes!! But after floating home on cloud nine, he found... his family packing up to move to Seoul?! Now tossed into a big new city, lovesick for the girl still in Suwon, Joonho runs into weird characters at every turn. First there's the young girl who speaks a strange language and has enormous strength, then a wayward cat causes another - Hanami - to wipe out on her bike!

Yeah, good thinkin', Amazon--a perfect suggestion. Wonder what it would recommend if I were to order the latest "Archie And Jughead" compilation--"Pier Paolo Pasolini's "Salo"? (and wouldn't Josh Hartnett and Carla Gugino be perfect as Joonho Suk and Sae-un in the Robert Rodriguez "Hanami" big-screen adaptation...?)

Here Comes The Knight...

Woo-hoo! It's coming....

BBC And Rolling Stone Announce "Worst Lyrics": Loverboy Snubbed Again

This is only passably amusing--moreso if you've never heard of Steve Allen or caught David Letterman's "Stagehand Theatre". Rolling Stone, Jann Wenner's famed music journal that these days spends most of its creaking editorial half-life reminding us of how important it once was (and indeed, once, it was), has posted a video of staffer Brian Studley reading what-they-regard as the worst lyrics of all time: Shania Twain's "Honey, I'm Home", Led Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song", Sisqo's "The Thong Song", and Soundgarden's "Spoonman", to name but a few. A recent BBC poll, which awarded the dubious honour to U2, Human League, Duran Duran, and Black Sabbath (among others), inspired RS's response.

Most rap, heavy metal, and country entries follow tried n' true formulas and are thus easy targets--truly inane songwriting--the kind that leaves you shaking your head back and forth like Wile E. Coyote when he falls off a cliff--has to be operatic, overreaching, alternately maddeningly pretentious and hopelessly desperate to truly qualify for bad. Boy, do these BBC and Rolling Stone folks have short memories-- how could they have possibly passed up "Brandy" by Looking Glass? "I Write The Songs" by Barry Manilow? "Don't Cry Out Loud" by Melissa Manchester? "Horse With No Name" by America? "Glory Of Love" by Peter Cetera? "I Would Do Anything For Love" by Meatloaf?

Here's my reigning champ. And it's Canadian, too, just to show what a patriot I can be. The writer is a certain Robert "Mutt" Lange (hey, Shania's husband). The band: Loverboy (aka The Scourge Of My Generation). The lyrics...as follows (and no, I don't mean this in that Chuck Klosterman half-ironic/half-sincere kinda way--this abomination truly sucks):

I'm not man or machine
I'm just something in between(Whoa-oa-whoa-oh-whoa)
I'm all love, a dynamo
So push the button and let me go (Whoa-oa-whoa-oh-whoa)
You want me to come alive
Just flick the switch into overdrive
You and me can let it be Ready-Aim-Fire Touch that dial -
Turn me on Start me like a motor, make me run
Lovin' every minute of it Lovin' every minute of it
Turn that dial all the way Shoot me like a rocket into space
Lovin' every minute of it Lovin' every minute of it Lovin' every minute of it
C'mon I got fun, you want some I'm ever ready, Dr. Love(Whoa-oa-whoa-oh-whoa)
I'm antenna, aerialI'm tunin' in I'm outta control(Whoa-oa-whoa-oh-whoa)
You got love, you got a deal
You wanna drive then take the wheel
You and me can let it be Ready-Aim-Fire Touch that dial -
Turn me on Start me like a motor, make me run

Oh good Christ, that's enough already....

"Lost" To Officially Wrap in 2010

It's a depressing thing to realize that everyone else is into your favorite TV show (or movie, or book, or musician) for the exact opposite reason you are: I tuned in for Losts 2-hour premiere in the fall of 2004 because I was a fan of J.J. Abram's Alias (albeit a late-comer who didn't get into the series until its third season). I was immediately taken by the character-oriented direction and enigmatic conceit: clearly Abrams and his co-writers/producers were students of everything from Kurt Vonnegut to Philip K. Dick to Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow to Stephen King's The Stand and The Mist to Vertigo Comics (and DC's The Flash to eagle-eyed viewers).

Like a long-running comic book serial (popular comics writer Jeph Loeb is one of the story editors, and this season saw the hiring of Brian K. Vaughan, whose Pride Of Baghdad you really should read), Lost was conceived as a series of small story arcs and one-shots set against a broader back story that may or may not ever be resolved, and I didn't care--I was intrigued and enchanted by its loopy and often confounding developments ala The Prisoner (years of loyal David Lynch viewing helps, too) and was more than content to ping-pong weekly on my own "explanation" over each successive episode.

But by the end of the second season, to my surprise and regret, I found out that the "Losties" who so passionately argued about each episode's every twist-and-turn of its narrative mobius loop were starting to whine about closure. They wanted explanations. They were more concerned over whether Kate was going to choose Sawyer or Jack--in other words, they wanted a regular show. The producers were aware of the hue and cry from the message boards and in one interview, Damon Lindelof confessed candidly that he found it hard to go to work each day and spend 8 hours writing a show that "everyone hates". And now I know why Charlie Sheen is the highest paid male actor on television...

(I think Ben said it best last week when he told Locke "the box is a metaphor!" ...are you listening, viewers?...)_

Thankfully, Lost has been guaranteed its run and won't be subjected to the gutting that was inflicted on Alias in its fourth season to make it more "appealing" to the masses at the expense of its dense and perfectly nuanced internal mythology. The show's creators have been granted their wish: producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse have signed new multi-year deals with ABC to continue the series until its conclusion, which is now officially pegged for the 2009-2010 season. And fans--those few of us left who have stuck with the show and will presumably continue to do so until the wrap--won't have to endure those gawd-awful delays anymore either: instead of two standard seasons consisting of 24 episodes, we'll get three seasons of 16 episodes--uninterrupted ala 24 (no firm air dates have been set).

I'm just glad to hear that having invested so much time in the series that it won't be unceremoniously sh*t-canned due to the hysteria over lower-ratings. You can read the complete story at today's Variety.

Jim O'Connell: 1958-2007

We lost a great one yesterday: Jim O'Connell, a veteran journalist, respected news anchor, and much-beloved coworker to those of us at BNN who are only now starting to absorb the terrible news of his passing at the too-young age of 48. This was a man who ran marathons in Antarctica...how many of us could do that?

Jim worked throughout the '80s and '90s for CTV News, reporting out of Ottawa, Winnipeg, Toronto and internationally in Washington, London, and the Middle East. He was also correspondent for CTV's "W-Five".

He didn't want a fuss, reportedly, so I'll point you to the details here. My sincere condolences to his family and friends and I must say my weekdays won't be the same without him, as he and I were there on launch day waaay back in September of 1999 and often shared the odd quip about our Ottawa Valley days. His all-too-rare qualities--integrity and professionalism at all costs, but tempered with a serene perspective on life and career and a wry sense of humour--have certainly touched us all...

Stephen King's Return To Toronto

Stephen King is coming to the GTA this June as part of "Booked!", a new authors festival that runs concurrently with the "Luminato Festival Of Arts And Creativity" "and "BookExpo Canada", where he'll receive a lifetime achievement award from the Canadian Booksellers Association.

Incredibly, it's his first "official" appearance, although early in his career he made appearances on MuchMusic and hung out for an afternoon at the classic rock station Q-107. He was also seen at this past year's Giller Prize festivities, where he kept a low profile despite a brouhaha over the presence of some of his novels on display. He also hung out on the set of "Storm Of The Century", his miniseries shot in Toronto and nearby Oshawa, Ont.

Literary snobs and anti-populist phonies will no doubt will have a field day bemoaning his presence at the fest, but those who truly love reading and appreciate great storytelling in all its forms will know that King has won more than his fair share of prestigious awards, has been published in The New Yorker more than once, and is a major philanthropist and supporter of the literary scene who devotes much of his semi-regular Entertainment Weekly column to promoting up-and-coming writers (and those of you who insist on dissing his work should do yourself a favour and read his short stories "The Reach" and "Everything That You Love Will Be Carried Away"...now...)

This truly special appearance will be hosted at the John Bassett Theatre (in the Metro Convention Centre) on Friday, June 8 at 7:30 pm. The press release promises an on-stage interview with a "surprise" celebrity guest (wouldn't it be great if King and local boy David Cronenberg hashed it out over his controversial adaptation of "The Dead Zone" ,which was shot in Niagara-On-The-Lake, doubling for "Castle Rock", Maine).

I scored my tickets earlier this evening (a reasonable $25 each)--amazingly, the event wasn't sold out. But that might be because the website provided in The Globe And Mail and on various online sites today is incorrect: make sure you go to www.bookedbetweenthecovers.ca, and not "dot-com" as initially listed.

The Rolling Kindergarten Revue

To some, he's the voice of a generation. To others, he's the guy who can't sing in the "We Are The World" video. And apparently, the new Pope's not too fond of him either.

To a new generation of young anklebiters, he's "the weird man who keeps coming to class to sing scary songs on his guitar".

The New York Post reports that Bob Dylan has been hanging out at his grandson's school in the LA 'burbs--"just for fun"--but the kiddies are underwhelmed by the presence of this musical legend. "Scary songs"? Just what the hell is he playing for them? All eleven interminable minutes of "Joey", his ode to Joseph Gallo of the Colombo crime family?

"He did ten years in Attica/Reading Nietzsche and Wilhelm Reich/They threw him in the hole one time for tryin' to stop a strike...." Okay kids, you join in!

Read all about it here, courtesy of Fark.

"Rituals" Screens At The Bloor

In the early days of Global Television, the then-fledging network had very little programming and tended to play the same movies over and over again, most of them Canadian-produced, which meant one thing to impressionable young minds: harsh language, nudity, violence, and downbeat endings (and given the state of the homegrown industry at the time, a particular photographic style in which the image seemed to have been printed on old army blankets and the sound was always on the verge of going out-of-sync). "Black Christmas" screened every yuletide season, and if you stayed up to 11 on a Saturday night you could catch everything from "The Pyx" to the ultra-naughty "In Praise Of Older Women".

But my favorite was "Rituals", which is essentially the hoser "Deliverance". Released in 1978 (although produced almost two years earlier), this brisk, lean n' mean shocker was directed by Peter Carter (who secured his place in Canadian film and television history by directing episodes of the series "Wojeck" and the feature "The Rowdyman"--the tax-shelter trucker comedy "High-Ballin" with Peter Fonda and Jerry Reed notsomuch...) from Ian Sutherland's screenplay. Shot in Northern Ontario's Batachawana Bay (near Sault Ste. Marie), the scenario finds five middle-aged doctors out on a weekend retreat who find themselves terrorized by a faceless maniac whose initial pranks turn deadly (remember that is a good couple of years before the "Friday The 13th" series and the 80s slasher boom--although gore hounds will likely be disappointed with its character-oriented screenplay and the lack of explicit bloodshed, although there are a few doozy moments). True to form of other films of the era, "Rituals" headlined an American star, in this case, Hal "Mark Twain Tonight" Holbrook, who dug Canada enough to return to shoot "The Kidnapping Of The President" opposite William Shatner.

The fact that someone made a cool thriller right in my own province inspired my own ill-fated attempt a horror feature when I hatched my Grade 11 epic "Blood Hunt" (don't look for it on the IMDB--the reels are sitting in my fridge), in which a quartet of high-school drama club actors playing adults (myself included, when one of my cast bailed without notice) go into the woods with rifles and machetes (the latter easily purchased at K-Mart) for no apparent reason other than to encounter some hungry zombies, presumably spawned by the toxins from a local paper mill (a plot point I ripped off from John Frankenheimer's "Prophecy", although in his film the pollutants created a mutant bear). I stole the (ironic) use of the children's song "The Teddy Bears' Picnic" from the "Rituals" trailer...and the truth is, my Super-8 cinematography didn't look much worse...

To my eventual surprise (and delight), "Rituals" proved to have quite the cult following in the U.S., awarded hefty praise from Stephen King in his non-fiction treatise on horror "Danse Macabre", and just a few years ago, a good American friend of mine was so thrilled when I provided him with a bad VHS dub that you'd think I'd unearthed a lost Dead Sea scroll.

Well, if you're GTA bound you can finally see it for yourself, as the fine folks at Rue Morgue magazine are hosting a rare theatrical screening this month, featuring a 35mm print provided by the film's co-star (and co-producer) Lawrence Dane, who will also be in attendance for an intro and post-screening Q&A! Dane's a great actor (Genie-nominated)--one of those "oh that guy" Canadian journeymen performers who's appeared in everything from features like "Scanners", "Happy Birthday To Me" and "Bear Island" to commercials (Colour Your World) and tons of series work including "Stargate SG-1" and "Queer As Folk", CanCon classics like "The Littlest Hobo" and "E.N.G.", and and vintage stuff like "Mission: Impossible" and "The FBI".

(only the brave in attendance will mention that Dane also co-wrote and directed the unfortunate Canadian answer to "Flashdance": "Heavenly Bodies", featuring Cynthia Dale)

"Rituals" screens Thursday, May 17th at 9:30 PM at The Bloor Cinema. Don't miss it.

Ellison Wonderland

Harlan Ellison has long been one of my favorite authors--he might just be my absolute favorite. Just don't call him a science-fiction writer (though he's gladly accepted many Hugo and Nebula awards), or he'll knock your block off...as he reportedly did to one of Frank Sinatra's mouthy bodyguards back in the swingin' 60s (confirmed in Gay Talese's famous "Esquire" expose "Frank Sinatra Has A Cold") when he was one of Hollywood's rising angry-young-wunderkinds who before the age of 30 had already written a bad movie (the camp classic "The Oscar" with Stephen Boyd), some of television's classic "speculative fiction" teleplays ("The Outer Limits", "Star Trek", "Alfred Hitchcock"), and was campaigning to write for "The Flying Nun" because in his words, he wanted to "nail" Sally Field...

Not to mention an impressive number of short stories (literally in the hundreds), novellas, and novels that redefined "science fiction" (indulge me just this once, Harlan) as a legitimate literary vehicle for something other than spaceships and rayguns. This is the man who conceived and edited the "Dangerous Visions" anthologies--absolutely essential reading that still shocks today with its collective audacity, imagination, and blissful shunning of any middle-brow notion of "taboo", and likely your only chance to experience rare tales from such giants as Philip K. Dick, J.G. Ballard, Robert Bloch, William S. Burroughs, and Kurt Vonnegut under a single cover.

I could go on for paragraphs about the brilliance of Ellison's "Repent Harlequin Said The Tick Tock Man", "Croatoan", "Shatterday", "I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream", "A Boy And His Dog", just in case some of you only know him as the guy who wrote the "Star Trek" episode with Joan Collins in it, or as the creator of the schlocky Canadian s.f. series "The Starlost" (which really isn't quite as bad as you remember it)...

But instead, I'll alert you to a new documentary that's due later this year (it was just screened a few days back for the Writers Guild in LA) which could serve as an ideal introduction to his unique persona and creative voice, and confirmation to the devoted that Ellison is, indeed, alive and hoping to make up for more than a decade of inactivity, due largely to health problems (he's now past 70, after all) and a lengthy lawsuit with AOL.

"Dreams With Sharp Teeth", from writer/director Erik Nelson, is part straight biography, with a bit of Spalding Gray thrown in, as much of the film is devoted to Ellison performing his own works (in the 70s, he'd pioneered the "audio book" with a series of successful spoken word albums) amidst comments from friends, family, and peers.

In the meantime, we're all still waiting for the long-promised third "Dangerous Visions" anthology (35 years late, although Ellison assures us it's on-the-way), and for ABC to run their "Masters Of Science Fiction" series, which stars John Hurt and Brian Dennehy in an adaptation of Ellison's "The Discarded" (Stephen Hawking will serve in the Rod Serling role in the miniseries...).

Here's the doc's official site and trailer.

John Carpenter On Media Violence

Well, here we go again...another violent tragedy involving high school or college-age males and with it, the inevitable kangaroo court of finger-wagging and laughably overwrought hyberbole targeted at the usual media culprits--video games, action movies, blah, blah, blah--and a few new players: YouTube, and a relatively obscure Cannes award-winning, art-house hit from South Korean director Chan-Wook Park. If it's one thing that unites hard-hearted Conservatives and bleeding-heart Liberals alike, it's not the environment, it's not peace in the Middle East: it's the "moral imperative" (thanks for that, Kathy Lee Gifford) to eradicate the spawn of Rockstar Games from the face of the earth.

But towering over them all is the (alleged) granddaddy of ever social ill of the 20th century (and it would seem, this one as well): horror films. We could take the easy route and blame the French, as the the first horror flick (at least on record) was Le Manoir du Diable, directed by FX pioneer Georges Mèliès in 1896. While it lasted a mere two minutes, according to cement-heads like Michael Medved, its shockwaves can still be felt today...

But the first American entry--and let's face it, these arguments are first and foremost attacks on U.S. pop culture--was a 10 minute adaptation of "Frankenstein", produced in 1910 by Edison Studios with Charles Ogle as the Monster. And you armchair History Channel buffs know what happened next: World War 1, the Stock Market crash of 1929, the Nazi invasion of Poland--damn you, Thomas Edison, how do you sleep at night! First the lightbulb and now this?!

On April 26th The Tribeca Film Festival hosted The Kid Slays In The Picture, an evening's discussion on the brouhaha and representing the motion picture industry was none other than personal fave John Carpenter, who knows a thing or two about the genre, having created such modern classics as "Halloween", "The Fog", and "The Thing".

Carpenter was his usual gruff but eloquent self--obviously, he's had a lot of practice defending his talent and livelihood over the years:

"... the whole point of this is that censorship never works. You cannot destroy an idea. You can't destroy it. You can hide it, you can try to cover it up, but you can't destroy it. It will be there and it will bubble up again."

"...and the reason for a lot of these movies is the culture that we live in -- it's what you've been saying. The events that are going on in our world. I think it's pretty clear, when we start seeing torture movies, why do you think that is? Look at what's happened. I personally love the Saw movies...they [the audience] can identify with this person trying to save their own life -- identify with a person being tortured. That's what our government doesn't seem to understand -- identify with people being tortured, not the torturers..."

Is there a film he's felt went too far? The answer may surprise you:

"The two roughest movies I've ever seen, ever, there was a WWII film called Death Mills. It was a documentary about the concentration camps. It's beyond words. The second is Blood of the Beasts, a Georges Franju documentary about a Paris slaughterhouse...I'm a wimp that way."

Here's the link to a rather puny transcript of the event, which also featured Lionsgate exec Peter Block, and Common Sense Media founder Jim Steyer, but that seems to be all there is for now.

(For what it's worth, I spent most of this past weekend drawing concepts for an upcoming horror project, and I went to bed last night with a clear conscience...and the only film that's ever made me want to commit violence was David Seltzer's "Lucas", with Corey Haim and Charlie Sheen...)

Paolo Verzi's New Film

Yes, there was a time when I hadn't heard of him, either...

I got a call from a colleague back in the spring of 2000 offering me a storyboard gig on an Italian comedy that was going to incorporate Toronto in its usual role as a double for Manhattan. That very evening, the film's director, Paolo Verzi, was hosting a free screening of one of his films at The Royal Ontario Museum for the crew so that everyone could get better acquainted with his sensibility and the tone he was going for with this particular production, "My Name Is Tanino".

The film, Ovosodo (translation: "Hard Boiled Egg") was absolutely hilarious--I laughed constantly and marveled at its cinematic invention. Why hadn't I heard of this guy? I knew a thing or two about current Italian cinema--Maurizio Nichetti and Carlo Carlei were favorites--and yet somehow, Verzi's works remained off-the-radar to the North American scene.

Verzi was a delight to work with--we communicated back and forth via a harried translator--and he was such a talented artist I wondered why he'd hired me at all (he scribbled a bang-on caricature of yours truly during one of our story sessions). But it was often hard for him to finish a sentence, as he was constantly on the phone with his producers and financiers--extremely vocal sessions that would usually result in a stream of multi-language profanity and violent desk and chair kicking that on more than one occassion had me slinking out of the room.

Suffice to say, the film was "problem-plagued", to use the polite industry vernacular, and managed to get finished (miraculously!) in a form less-than-intended--my storyboards for its planned epic climax, set to Frank Sinatra's "My Way", in which an Italian naval vessel pulls into New York Harbor to take the title character back home to serve out his mandatory military sentence--got axed. The one scene I did that remained in the film can be found on my online portfolio here. "My Name Is Tanino" played a lone date in Canada: Toronto's 2002 Italian Film Festival. And to think that it starred current It-Girl Rachel McAdams in one of her first roles!

Well, the good news is that Verzi's back with new film that's a bit different from his usual Chuck-Jones-Meets-Woody-Allen-Meets-Fellini slapstick romps: "Napoleon And Me" is still a comedy, concerning a "what-if" scenario during the failed French emperor's exile on the Italian isle of Elba. The film stars Elio Germano as young man hired to be Napoleon's secretary while harbouring a desire to assassinate him, "Cache" star Daniel Atieul as a certain Monsieur Bonaparte, and the stunningly beautiful Monica Bellucci--every movie should have one--as "baroness floozy", according to the review.

You can read that review from Tribeca here, courtesy of the informed folks at Cinematical.

Bore Worms And Brian Blessed In Dolby 5.1!

"Flash Gordon" is finally getting the deluxe DVD treatment, and it's about bloody time.

Yes, fans of Mike Hodges' underappreciated broad n' baroque 1980 space fantasy (which he'd inherited from Nicholas Roeg) can rejoice and retire their (now out-of-print) barebones Image DVD: even though it's an odd 27 years later, Universal Home Video is prepping a 2-disc special edition for release this coming August. Can't wait? Check out the Alex Ross cover art here (the ultra-talented comics icon Ross is an obvious and avowed fan--his logo says it all).

Weird synchronicity: first I scored free tickets to the Queen musical, and then the "Flash Gordon" theme shows up in the Will Ferrell comedy "Blades Of Steel", which I caught two days later..and now this news. In the words of Dr. Zarkov: "Check the angular vector of the moon!"

Not a lot of details yet on special features, other than an "appreciation" of the film by Ross, an interview with screenwriter Lorenzo Semple, Jr. (a camp pioneer--he wrote most of the Adam West "Batman" TV series, and "Barbarella" for Dino De Laurentis), and a chapter from one of the original Buster Crabbe serials.

But even if the disc extras are puny, there's a line of cool action figures, bobbleheads, and plushies coming from Bif Bang Pow! Yes, you can now own your very own cuddly Max Von Sydow...(and keep scrolling to check out the company's line of figures from "The Big Lebowski"--what, no "Autobahn"?)

No, I'm Not Pulling A Heist...

Shutting down for a week, folks, as I'm off to Las Vegas for NAB 2007.

And So It Goes...

News of the death of the great Kurt Vonnegut traveled fast today, and certainly, there have been no shortage of eloquent tributes written, broadcast, and posted, with more to come as his legacy becomes finite but will no doubt play a huge part as to how some future, hopefully more sane generation, will regard the 20th century.

Vonnegut's official site www.vonnegut.com has gone dark with just a single, and very sweet, tribute page accessible, sketched in his own hand (you could buy the lithographs of his art there previously--presumably, it will be relaunched in another form at a later date, once the family has had time to mourn and his business affairs have been taken care of).

Here's Lidia's thoughts on the man and his works:

"At some point, some time in my teenage years, someone lent me Breakfast of Champions. I can’t remember who that person was. I can’t remember the day it happened, or what I was wearing (although it’s safe to say it was probably black). And I can’t remember for the life of me why this person thought I would want to read this book.

I gave it back to them the next day. I read it in one sitting. Then I went to the library and took out everything else they had that had Kurt Vonnegut’s name on it. And so started my one great literary love.

When you meet people and they learn your interests, they always ask you, “what’s your favourite movie?” or “who’s your favourite band?” or “what 10 records would you take with you to a desert island?” and I could never answer any of those with any certainty. But not so for “who’s your favourite writer?”. That, without even a second thought, was always Kurt Vonnegut. Dark humour? Check. Pointed satire? Double check. Flights of fancy and a wild imagination? On the money. No one else has ever, or since, been so directly in line with my own views, my own feelings, my own life. And I am counting movie makers, musicians and artists in that.

There’s not a lot I can say that hasn’t already been said in the obits and retrospectives and tributes that have poured out today. What I want to say is that one of my greatest regrets in life is that I never had the opportunity to stand in a line with a couple of favourite books in hand, get his distinctive autograph, and just say thanks.

So, thanks, Mr. Vonnegut. I’m going to miss you..."

Esquire's online site has just posted his 1985 short story "A Dream Of The Future (Not Including Lobsters"). Read it here.

Happy Birthday, Minnie (8 Years!)

One of my two feline muses, "Minnie" (proper name: Miniature, on account of her size when we first got her at eight weeks of age) turns eight years old today and she's still adorable. How can you resist those amber eyes and that down-soft fur? On today's planner: a little Fancy Feast, a little hammock lounging, some patio inspection, some ferocious fighting with her sister Maggie--sigh, in my next life I'm coming back as a cat...

Farewell To The Master...

Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007)

More to come on why he matters more now than ever before...

"I Woke Up Early The Day I Died": I've Seen It, You Probably Won't!

In honour of the sudden interest in…er…less than “prestigious” motion pictures, I thought I’d repost my 1998 review of a film that--to my knowledge--has never been released beyond a few festival screenings. Based upon an unfilmed screenplay by the late Ed Wood Jr.,--yes, the notorious transvestite visionary behind the immortal “Plan Nine From Outer Space” and immortalized onscreen by Johnny Depp—“I Woke Up Early The Day I Died” headlined Billy Zane, Christina Ricci, and Jonathon-Taylor Thomas (!) in a perhaps too-calculated stab at “so bad it’s good” hipsterdom…

The sign of an utter dearth of creative ideas in Hollywood? A heartfelt all-star tribute to the final vision of a misunderstood artist? How the hell should I know? What I can tell you is that for whatever reason, “Demon Knight” star Billy Zane decided to not only to headline, but also produce, this whacked-out screen realization of an unfilmed script by the notorious “bad movie” visionary Edward D. Wood Jr. If you don’t recognize that last name, I suggest you may have clicked on the wrong URL.

Wood conceived of this paranoid-noir back in 1974, based on his 1960 script “Night Of Silence”. Ever the iconoclast, Wood intended from the beginning that the film contain no dialogue and utilize only sound FX and music, possibly in honor of Grade-Z peers Coleman Francis (“The Beast Of Yucca Flats”) and Art J. Nelson, Jr. (Lake Tahoe’s only monster movie “The Creeping Terror”). The project was nearly a reality, with Aldo Ray set to play the Thief, John Carradine pegged to portray the undertaker, and John Agar and David Ward all but cast as policemen.

Director Arlis Iliopulos had to convince widow Kathy Wood that he’d remain true to her husband’s “artistic vision” and promised he would not add dialogue to what was Ed’s pet project up until "the day he died” in 1978. Iliopulos then immediately approached friend Billy Zane (on the set of “Titanic”), who signed up immediately.

It’s impossible to evaluate “I Woke Up Early The Day I Died” as a good or a bad movie, because it was clearly never meant to be a “real” movie in the first place. But you’ve got to admit that for most of us, this one surpasses Universal’s much-lamented “Psycho” remake as the shameless curio of the year.

Zane hams it up in full throttle Buster-Keaton-meets-Tod-Slaughter mode as the “Thief” suffering from Roderick Usher syndrome (he’s sensitive to noise and high pitched sounds rattle him to crime). He tracks down his misplaced fortune across an ecletic roster of cameos that includes: Ann Magnuson (Loan Office Clerk), John Ritter (mourner/ carnival cowboy), Christina Ricci (jailbait hooker), Summer and Rain Phoenix (barmaids), Bud Cort (thrift shop owner), Mailia Nurmi (the original “Vampira”), Tippi Hedren (deaf mourner), Eartha Kitt (nightclub performer), Will Patton (suspicious priest), Andrew McCarthy (cop), Steven Webber (another cop), Ron Perlman (bagpipe playing gravedigger), Jonathon Taylor-Thomas (kid on the beach), and Sandra Bernhard (mourner/stripper).

The filmmakers have faced a difficult task here: to create the oft-attempted-and-usually-failed “deliberately bad movie”. We’ve all see these things crash and burn, haven’t we? “Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes” anyone? Or Stephen King’s self-confessed “moron movie” “Maximum Overdrive”? Luckily, Iliopulos’ cheesy process shots, non-existent continuity, unconvincing stock footage, and cheap effects DO manage to suggest vintage Ed Wood circa “Orgy Of The Dead”.

Iliopulos’ best visual touch is his periodic inclusion of actual excerpts from Wood’s script superimposed over shots in a blotchy typeface, complete with “Ext” and “Int” cues, page numbers, and stage directions. And the Thief’s escape from an asylum while clad in nurses’ drag, is an immortal Ed Wood moment. Every script from this man must’ve been a desperate cry for help.

If I could change one thing about “I Woke Up” (just one thing, some would ask?), it would be its soundtrack (supervised by Zane). Save for Eartha Kitt’s performance of “Wherever I Lay My Heart”, the film is driven by an adrenaline surging wall-to-wall trip hop and techno music assault. Wood would’ve raided the public domain music library for something a little more genre-specific (although the droning “Jail Bait” refrain immediately refutes that theory!). The film could do with more of the sleazy sax and cheesy music stings, a little less Soho “rave”.

Not a bad try overall, Arlis and Billy. But for a follow-up, may I suggest Wood’s “Mice On A Cold Cellar Floor” or “Bob Steele Of The Border Patrol”?

Late breaking (2007!): Who knews? The film's "official" site is still up and you can play the Flash-based "Makeover Game" here.