FILMINK INTERVIEW

The current issue of Australia's Filmink magazine (March 2013), features a small article and interview with me, discussing my new Blood on the Windscreen book.
 

Also nice to read artist/writer Stephen Bissette's comment on the publications: "Just finished reading John Harrison's excellent little chapbook BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN (that's "WINDSHIELD," Americans!), which provides a perfect overview of the 1950s-1970s Driver's Ed movies that were inflicted upon us in driving classe...s and/or "Shop" (Mr. Murphy showed us one at Harwood Union High School in Shop class) back in the day. Modest but definitive book, recommended—and just the sort of history I was calling for in one of my brief FILM THREAT articles back in 1990."

CINEMA SEWER

Finally filled-in a couple of gaps in my collection of Cinema Sewer magazine, which I used to pick-up from one of the local comic book shops in Melbourne until it became a bit scarce to find. I’m always happy when I see an old-school fanzine still doing the rounds in hard copy, and Canadian Robin Bougie’s is (and always has been) up there with the best of the exploitation/trash film zines.

Published in standard comic book size (as opposed to the digest format of early issues) the most recent issue of Cinema Sewer (#25, February 2012) features a stunning piece of pulp cover art that heralds the issue’s main article, which looks at the much-loved genre of sleazy Nazi concentration camp horrors (The Beast in Heat, SS Camp 5, Gestapo’s Last Orgy and, of course, the infamous Ilsa movies).

Elsewhere within the issue’s forty pages, we have coverage of daredevil documentaries (Death Riders, The Devil at Your Heels), reviews of everything from Sissy’s Hot Summer (1979) and Monkey Hustle (1976) to Megaforce (1982) and Streets of Fire (1984) and lots more that is designed to not only entertain and amuse, but potentially outrage and offend those who pick the magazine up by mistake . And as usual, the whole issue is handwritten by Bougie himself, who also provides the bulk of the magazine’s original illustrations. It’s an approach which gives Cinema Sewer a unique personal touch and sets it apart from just about every other film magazine out there (also gives me RSI just thinking about all the work Robin puts into each issue!).

At a measly four bucks, Cinema Sewer is well worth your money and support. Issue #26 has just been published, you can order it, along with back issues and the three Cinema Sewer compilation books published by FAB Press, over at the magazine’s website at: www.cinemasewer.com
　

LEWIS' LOST SLEAZE

THE LOST FILMS OF HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS

Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis

USA 1969/71

Studio: Vinegar Syndrome

Number of Discs: 2 (Blu-Ray/DVD)

 While the majority of Herschell Gordon Lewis’ films were unearthed and released to the public (by the likes of Midnight Vide, Palace Explosive and Something Weird Video) in the 1980s and early-nineties, three titles from his oeuvre continually eluded his loyal band of fans and collectors. Now, thanks to the efforts of Process Blue (a film restoration facility), the Lewis filmography is one giant step closer to being complete, with the discovery and subsequent release of three of the Godfather of Gore’s obscure and previously lost sexploitation films: Linda & Abilene, Ecstasies of Women (both 1969) and Black Love (1971).

The pick of the litter here is definitely Linda & Abilene, which features the lovely Sharon Matt and was filmed at the infamous Spahn Ranch in California, an archaic location that was the setting for many western movies and television shows, and was being used as a hideout by Charles Manson and his band of counterculture followers at around the same time that Linda & Abilene was being filmed there (in fact, Lewis has claimed in several interviews over the years that members of the Manson gang were spotted wandering around in a psychedelic haze at various times throughout the filming). This morbid little anecdote aside, Linda & Abilene is a western sexploiter, but unfortunately an overlong and not very exciting one, especially considering some of the rougher adult westerns that were doing the flea-pit rounds at the time (such as Van Guylder’s The Ramrodder). The highlight is easily the lesbian interlude between Linda (Roxanne Jones) and Abilene (Matt), though unfortunately this doesn’t come until ten minutes from the film’s so-called climax.

In Ecstasies of Women, sleazy lingerie salesman Harry (Walter Camp) and his three pals celebrate his last night of bachelorhood at the most sparsely decorated strip joint in town, watching a couple of bored women gyrating on stage ("They must have ball-bearings for bone joints", one of his boozy pals comments). In between rounds of groping the topless waitresses, Harry affectionately thinks back to some of his more memorable female conquests, all of which take place on his yacht the ‘High Life’ (which remarkably has an interior at least four times the size of the exterior). By the end of the night, the whole gang (including the waitresses and strippers) end up back on the yacht enjoying a little group action, with Harry waking up the next day and deciding to leave his bride-to-be at the altar so he can continue his wicked, wicked ways. Filmed in Hollywood, Ecstasies of Women is basically a 1962 nudie film with some 1969 bush shots, and once again features Sharon Matt, along with some cool music (a mixture of guitar and sleazy lounge).

The final film on the disc, Black Love is essentially a ‘white coater’ (i.e. - a sex flick disguised as a documentary in order to get racy material passed the local censors). It is also the only hardcore sex film that Lewis is known to have directed (under the pseudonym R. L. Smith), and is a very grotty ‘document’ (complete with borderline offensive narration) of the sexual practices of African Americans, who apparently have different desires to other folks. Consider it the filmmaker’s contribution to the burgeoning blaxploitation genre, which was just starting to find popularity at the time.

While not amongst the highlights of Lewis’ career, it’s terrific to see these finally out there, and packaged together at a reasonable price. A definite must-have for Lewis collectors and fans of late-sixties skinema.

Vinegar Syndrome’s Blu-Ray/DVD release of The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis features crisp, original camera negatives that have been scanned and restored in 2K. It obvious that the original negatives Process Blue discovered were rarely used and in remarkably good shape for their age. Also included are the original trailers for all three films, reproductions of the lab cards, and a 10 page illustrated booklet featuring liner notes by Casey Scott.

Reviewed Copyright John Harrison 2013

GOLDEN GODDESSES

Golden Goddesses:

25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968 - 1985

by Jill Nelson

"I made it a rule, an absolute rule for all of the films that no women were allowed on the crew except for make-up. The technical crew: cameraman, gaffer, grip and sound — I never hired a woman. I don’t like women." (Roberta Findlay)
 

There is a continuing, undeniably voyeuristic fascination with people who were involved in the golden age of adult cinema (both in front of and behind the camera). Perhaps it’s the fact that they were both pioneers in a field of phenomenally popular (and perennially profitable) entertainment, yet also looked down upon as outcasts by the majority of mainstream society, who were happy to inwardly look but outwardly condemned. Or perhaps it’s partly because the people then had definitive personalities, looks and styles, unlike the mostly cookie-cutter, fake blonde and siliconed boobed porn starlets of today.

The co-author of the definitive John Holmes bio, Inches, Jill Nelson returns with Golden Goddesses: 25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968 - 1985. Told in an oral history format, Nelson has selected a diverse range of names to interview - including not just performers but also screenwriters, directors and costumers - which not only give us a terrific insight into the adult film industry during this rapidly evolving outlaw period, but allows us to know them as women, individuals and human beings. The bulk of the credit for this, of course, belongs to Nelson herself, who has obviously been able to win the trust of her subjects enough for them to open up a lot more than they would have in the pages of publications like Adam Film World back in the day.

Picking out highlights is a tough ask. The interviews conducted with actors who have since passed on (Marilyn Chambers, Juliette Anderson, Barbara Caron Mills) resonate with a certain sadness, but also serve as fitting epitaphs. Likewise, the chapter on actor/director Ann Perry (House on Bare Mountain, The Toy Box, Sweet Savage) also has an emotional timbre to it, since Perry’s battle with Alzheimer’s meant that her son had to do most of the talking for her. Elsewhere, Jody Maxwell (often billed as ‘The Missouri Stick Licker’) talks about losing her film virginity to Jamie Gillis and her unique talent for being able to sing while performing oral sex, and Laurie Holmes remembers her life with John and her disdain at the current state of the porn industry.

If I had to pick a favourite chapter, however, it would have to be Nelson’s interview with the normally publicity-shy Roberta Findlay. Along with her husband Michael, Roberta Findlay was responsible for some of the more notorious of the sexploitation black & white ‘roughies’ that emerged from the New York underground of the mid-to-late 1960s, including Satan’s Bed (1965, starring a pre-Lennon Yoko Ono), Take Me Naked (1966, written by and starring Roberta) and the infamous Flesh trilogy (The Touch of Her Flesh, The Curse of Her Flesh and The Kiss of Her Flesh). They later turned to the drive-in and grindhouse circuits, producing the 1971 Manson-inspired film Slaughter, which had footage added to it by Allan Shackleton and re-released in 1976 as the notorious Snuff (‘The film that could only be made in South America...where Life is CHEAP!’). After Michael Findlay was killed in a 1977 helicopter crash, Roberta went on to direct hardcore features such as Mystique (1979) and Shauna: Every Man’s Fantasy (1985, a tribute to Shauna Grant, who had committed suicide a year earlier), as well as returning to exploitation and horror with the likes of the grimy Tenement (1985) and Blood Sisters (1987). An impressive oeuvre indeed, and Findlay relays a lot of great anecdotes and memories, from hiding film reels at the bottom of a well to avoid the authorities, getting a cyst in her breast removed (a result of years of filming with a 40 pound Panaflex camera) , and her love for dialogue and disdain at actually having to shoot hardcore sex ("I was always disgusted by the sex scenes so I’d say "Okay, everybody screw". That would be it").

Other names covered in Golden Goddesses include such well-known names (at least within the industry and it’s supporters) as Seka, Kay Parker, Georgina Spelvin, Christy Canyon, Nina Hartley, Annie Sprinkle, Ginger Lynn (whose chapter touches on the industry-changing Traci Lords underage scandal), Veronica Hart, Kitten Natividad and Serena.

At 950 pages, Golden Goddesses is an expansive and exhaustive tome, heavily illustrated with over 300 black & white photos (including many candid and childhood snaps), and an essential addition to the library of anyone with more than a passing interest in its subject matter. I only hope that Nelson returns to the adult genre in the near future, as her two works on the subject so far have provided welcome breaths of fresh air in a field filled with uninspiring, sensationalistic and inaccurate studies.

Review Copyright 2013 John Harrison

Golden Goddesses: 25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968-1985 is published by Bear Manor Media (www.bearmanormedia.com). You can also visit the Golden Goddesses blogger page at: www.goldengoddessesbook.blogspot.com
 

HER NAME IS BOND...

A sneek peek at my new book, scheduled for later in 2013...more details posted here as they become more concrete.

 

RENE BOND:
AMERICA'S TRAGIC TEENAGE FANTASY

by John Harrison

 

Before the emergence of Linda Lovelace, Marilyn Chambers and Georgina Spelvin, Rene Bond was about the closest thing America had to a celebrity porn starlet. A naturally pretty, sweet and youthful looking brunette (mostly), Bond entered the adult industry in 1969, appearing in over 300 8mm ‘loops’ (including some extreme bondage ones) and features, both softcore (Please Don’t Eat My Mother, Country Cuzzins, Convict Women, Ed Wood’s Necromania) and XXX (Teenage Sex Kitten, Cream Rinse and the classic Teenage Sex Fantasies). Known for her impressive oral techniques, and possessing an enhanced bust rumoured to have been paid for by low budget exploitation producer Harry Novak, Rene Bond disappeared from both the porn scene and public life in the late 1970s, her last known appearance being on an episode of the television game show Break the Bank in 1986. She died of liver failure in 1996 at the age of just 45, unaware of her burgeoning status as a cult figure and porn pioneer.

MASTERFUL MASSACRE

Just finished my annual viewing of Tobe Hooper's original Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Just gets better to me with every passing year...it is one of those movies that is always there in my all-time Top 5 (of all genres), and I can't see anything ever being able to push it out (though I more than welcome any serious challengers).

 

For all it's brutality and gut-level terror, I also find TCM to be a very funny film in many ways, though it took me several viewings to really see and appreciate the humour in it, so effective was its horror. I view it almost like a live-action 1950s EC horror comic - characters like the Hitchhiker and the father were almost straight out of a classic EC story. The EC comparrisons are I think compounded by the fact that, just like their old stories, the movie had plenty of brutal violence but no nudity or overt sexual activity (something very rare for what was essentially a low-budget regional film aimed mostly at the drive-in crowd). And the first apperance of Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) has to rate as one of the most economic but effective introductions of a monster in horror movie history.

 

I first saw TCM back in 1983, when the ban on the film in Australia was finally lifted. I was 19 and had been reading about the film in books like Splatter Films and Cult Movies, and an issue of Fangoria with a Hooper interview, so I was very excited to hear it was finally getting a cinema release locally (and I was now old enough to see it). The film was being screened in Melbourne at a cinema that was undeground off a little alleyway in the heart of Melbourne city....it had shown arthouse and exploitation stuff in the 70s but by this stage was more grindhouse/adult stuff (they would later go exclusively hardcore sex for the last remaining years in the early-nineties).

 

I remember showing up for the first session of TCM on opening day, buying a ticket from a girl who looked confused having to wear clothes for a change, and sitting with baited breath in the cinema (with about three other people), only to be let down when an announcment came on that there was a problem with the projector and the days' sessions were cancelled. So I was even more wound-up with anticipation when I returned the following day - the experience was worth the wait though. I still have the little promo poster I pulled off the grimy lobby wall when no one was looking:

 

BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN Out Now!

BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN

By John Harrison

 

THE COLD & VIOLENT WORLD OF THE DRIVER’S EDUCATION FILM 1959 - 1975

 

Blood on the Windscreen takes us on a gaudy journey through one of the most foreboding of all film genres: the Driver’s Education film.

Shown in classrooms across America, the Driver’s Education film hit its peak in the early-1960s, when the notorious Ohio based company, Highway Safety Films, Inc., began producing a series of in...credibly graphic and unnerving 16mm shorts that showed young high school kids no mercy as it attempted to curb the slaughter that was taking place on American freeways.

Featuring a history of the genre, a look into the sordid underbelly of Highway Safety Films, Inc., an A-Z filmography and an interview with Bret Wood (director of the classic documentary on the subject, Hell’s Highway), Blood on the Windscreen is your perfect (shattered) window into this unique and disturbing era of classroom education.

Blood on the Windscreen will be available through Amazon from January 2013 and is published - suitably enough - in the style and format of a vintage educational booklet from the 1960s.

ISBN: 978-1481073455/Pages: 28/Price: US $6.00

http://www.amazon.com/Blood-Windscreen-Violent-Drivers-Education/dp/1481073451/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_t_1_BV6E
 

NATURE STRIKES BACK!

MASSACRED BY MOTHER NATURE:

EXPLORING THE NATURAL HORROR FILM
by Lee Gambin
 

The ‘nature amok’ movie has always been one of my favourite genres of horror cinema (ever since I ventured into the city as a kid and saw a double-bill of Squirm and Food of the Gods at the old Dendy cinema in Collins St), and considering its popularity amongst fans, it’s surprising that there hasn’t been a book exclusively devoted to it until now.

Authored by Melbourne based writer (and regular Fangoria contributor) Lee Gambin, Massacred by Mother Nature is an exploration of the natural horror film, tracing its roots through King Kong and such 1950s gems as Tarantula, Them!, Godzilla and Earth Vs. the Spider – where nature usually had a helping hand from human experimentation or atomic test fallout – and on into the 60s (The Birds, The Deadly Bees), before the genre really exploded in the 1970s, which was definitely the decade when nature ran berserk on cinema and drive-in screens across America (and many other parts of the world, Australia included).

In the first half of the seventies, it was the smaller forms of life like frogs (Frogs), spiders (Kiss of the Tarantula), rodents (Willard and it’s sequel, Ben ) and worms (Squirm) that were causing the most mischief onscreen, before a little movie called Jaws came along in 1975 and – along with The Exorcist a year earlier – helped to redefine modern horror cinema and brought the genre (for better or worse) into the realm of reputable studio prestige productions. Exploitation producers followed suit, and the phenomenal success of Jaws resulted in films like Grizzly, Orca, Day of the Animals and Piranha. The 50s trend of insects and wildlife enlarged by the meddling hands of man continued in films such as Night of the Lepus, Prophecy and Food of the Goods, while even the Italians got into the act with Killer Fish and the blatant Jaws inspired Great White (which Universal successfully took action against to prevent it’s US release).

Nature horror films continued into the 1980s and beyond (remember Cujo and the down under terror of Razorback?), but the seventies were clearly the golden years for the genre.

Eschewing the A-Z formula of most film books of this type, Massacred by Mother Nature is written in an entertaining, breezy but informative and knowledgeable style which reflects Gambin’s genuine love for – and unique take on - the genre. Chapters are divided into themes (such as The Bad Doggies of Cinema, The Discreet Charm of the Creepy Crawly and – one of my favourite sections – Stock Characters of the Ecological Horror Film). The book concludes with a series of brief interviews with various actors/composers/writers/directors (Dee Wallace, Jeff Lieberman, Charles Bernstein, Belinda Balaski, Joe Dante, etc.), who discuss their work in the ecological horror field.

Heavily illustrated throughout with black & white stills and often lurid poster art, and featuring introductions by Fangoria editor Chris Alexander, Dee Wallace, Veronica Cartwright and director Bert I. Gordon, Massacred by Mother Nature is a highly recommended and thoroughly welcome addition to any horror fan’s library.

 

(Midnight Marquee Press/USA/2012/220 pages)
Review copyright John Harrison 2012
 

Massacred by Mother Nature is avaialble from Amazon or direct from the publisher (Mdnight Marque Press) at www.midmar.com. Also check out the Facebook page devoted to the book at
www.facebook.com/massacredbymothernature

BIBLE CLASS

The Epic! exhibition  (100 years of film and the Bible) was small but impressive - a stunning collection of Bible-themed movie memorabilia, including stills, promo items, press kits and original posters (from all countries) that showcase some truly beautiful and visually arresting artwork.

Highlight of the exhibition for me was a set of original lobby cards from the 1960 exploitation/comedy The Private Lives of Adam & Eve starring the fabulous screen siren Mamie Van Doren. Was also amusing to see the Jewish Museum's gift shop selling reproduction posters from the Mitchell Brothers' Sodom & Gomorrah (1975), the two ladies at the counter totally oblivious to the fact that they are selling the poster for a XXX hardcore porno film.

Epic! runs at the Jewish Museum of Australia in Melbourne (26 Alma Rd., St. Kilda) until 3rd February 2013.

THE CATMAN DISHES ALL

Having finished the Peter Criss book (Make-Up to Break-Up: My Life In and Out of Kiss), I think it’s easily the most entertaining (and scandalous) of the three Kiss autobios released so far from the original members. While Gene’s book was just typical Gene and Ace’s was disappointingly short on Rock & Roll road stories, Criss comes out with all guns blazing, with his former bandmates, managers, accountants and an ex-wife (former Playboy playmate Debra Jensen) firmly in his sights.

 

Peter Criss is clearly a bitter man and I dare say more than a little paranoid and delusional about his own talents and achievements (his already huge ego was even further inflated by his co-writing and singing of Kiss’ surprise hit ballad Beth in 1976). When his early solo albums fail, it’s because Kiss and their management pressured the label into blackballing them, not because of their weak middle of the road material. When he continually gets screwed by the contracts during the reunion years (1996-2004), it’s always the fault of the lawyers and not his bad decision making. Criss wants us to empathise with him but it’s a little hard when he mostly refuses to take ownership of his own role in things always turning sour (though he does admit to being an asshole at times and having his mind clouded by a copious consumption of blow).

 

I’m sure that this is the truth as Peter Criss sees it, but any book in which the author admits to wanting to stick a knife in the neck of his former Kiss bandmates, and fantasises about flying to L.A. and shooting them, is surely going to have his thoughts and perspective somewhat clouded. Still, Make-Up to Break-Up is a rousing, angry, at times sleazy and very entertaining rock & roll memoir, written (with Larry ‘Ratso’ Sloman) by the original drummer from one of the biggest American bands of the seventies. From Ace Frehley’s chronic masturbation and the groupie who kept Criss awake all night as she screamed at Frehley to "Fuck me like a truck driver!" to Gene Simmons making everyone sick by refusing to wash the menstrual blood from the previous night’s conquest off his teeth, all those lurid moments that teen magazines like 16 and Tiger Beat never quite got around to covering back in the day are laid bare for all to wallow in.

 

One wonders how Paul Stanley might respond, with his own autobiography (and the last from the original line-up) due next year. 

ST. KILDA'S LUNA PARK TURNS 100

I remember as a younger man in the late-eighties, I would finish up my shift at St. Kilda Video at 10pm then head across the road for a few drinks at the Doulton Bar, often ending up the night either dancing with drag queens at Bojangles on the Lower Esplanade, hanging with the stoned and drunken flotsam that filled The Lindentree on Fitzroy St, or watching the smacked-out strippers gyrating for drug money at the long passed its prime Casablanca disco in the next block up.

On a few of these occasions, making our way home at three and four in the morning, my friends and I - galvanized by booze, pot and the odd stupefying sniff of amyl nitrate (then still being sold over the counter at the Acland St sex shop) - would climb the fence into Luna Park and spend a few hours walking around in the dark, exploring all the rides and amusements by moonlight and feeling as if I was trapped within my own surreal horror movie. One time, we scampered up the Scenic Railway rollercoaster track and sat atop the iconic big mouth entrance, smoking joints and soaking in the view that, as passengers on the ride, we had only ever had a few seconds to enjoy. Another time, we climbed up the cold metal cobwebs of the giant ferris wheel, sitting ourselves in the top cars while we downed a six-pack and looked out across the blackened Port Phillip Bay, enjoying the silence and the salty air as it hit us in the face. It was an idiotic thing to do in retrospect - one slip of my drunken or stoned foot and that could have been it - but the experience and sense of secret wonder it filled me with was more than worth it.
  

We never tried it again after we finally got busted by a security patrol one night, who thankfully let us go with just a warning (after taking down our well-rehearsed fake names and addresses). I think the security guy could sense that we weren’t in there for theft or vandalism, but purely to experience Luna Park in a wholly unique way (and yes, the element of ‘danger’ certainly added to it all).

I had the utmost respect for the property and its iconic history, but looking back now, I kind of regret that I never helped myself to at least one small unique memento as something tangible to remember these increasingly distant nights with (especially considering that most things I could have taken have no doubt long since been consigned to the trash heaps of time and ‘progress’).
  

Copyright John Harrison 2012

THE TREASURES OF LONG GONE JOHN

USA/2006/Directed by Greg Gibbs
 

Celebrating the life and work of independent record producer/distributor Long Gone John (who founded the retro/punk label Sympathy for the Music Industry in 1988), Greg Gibb’s The Treasures of Long Gone John is almost two documentaries combined. On one hand, it serves as a biography of its subject, while on the other it serves as a documentary of sorts on the whole ‘lowbrow’ art movement popularised by the likes of Juxtapoz magazine (though most of the artists interviewed loath the term ‘lowbrow’ and prefer the more pretentious handle of ‘pop surrealism’).

John paints his upbringing as one filled with rebellion and time spent in numerous boarding schools, though unfortunately none of his family members are interviewed to provide counterpoint views (apart from his wife – who lives in the house next door, and his two daughters), so you have to wonder if he is trying to perpetuate his own mythology in regards to his past. Eventually finding success with his Sympathy label, John single-handedly (supposedly) released over 750 records by over 500 different artists, without ever signing a contract (artist and label were free to walk away at any time, as one of John’s more famous ‘discoveries’, The White Stripes did, taking with them all the music they had recorded and released on Sympathy’s dime). Other acts which Sympathy released include Hole, The 5678's, Veruca Salt and Rocket from the Crypt.

By far the most interesting moments in The Treasures of Long Gone John are those which focus on the amazing collection of art, treasures, toys and other artefacts which fill his house to the brim. From original paintings by Mark Ryden and Todd Schorr, to Ed Wood’s personal screenplay for Plan 9 from Outer Space and the original leather jacket which Iggy Pop wore on the back cover of Raw Power, to discarded celebrity prescription bottles (including Debbie Harry’s Prozac), to a secret room which houses an enormous collection of rare vinyl, John is a living definition of the obsessive collector bordering on hoarder. Starting off his collecting with trips to flea markets, John is always on the hunt for "more stuff", though interestingly he never considers himself a material person (something I can identify with, being a collector of ‘trash culture’ who also has no need for status symbols like cars and Rolex watches).

The other segments of The Treasures of Long Gone John examine the work of a number high-profile artists featured in John’s extensive collection of lowbrow/pop surrealist art, including Mark Ryden, Coop, Todd Schorr, Camille Rose Garcia, Shag and Robert Williams (founder of Juxtapoz magazine and - along with the late Ed ‘Big Daddy’ Roth - considered the father of the lowbrow movement). Throughout its running time, the film captures the execution by Todd Schorr of a 6 x 8 foot painting featuring John, captured through time-lapse photography and filmed over a nine-month period. Personally, I felt like this art movement is deserving of it’s own comprehensive documentary, and came away thinking as if these scenes were added primarily to stretch the film’s running-time to feature length (after all, Long Gone John has little to do with this actual art, apart from being able to afford it and using some early Coop work on his Sympathy seven-inch releases).

Featuring of course a soundtrack of Sympathy artists, The Treasures of Long Gone John is a sometimes disjointed but always fascinating journey into an eclectic and unique American mind. As an entrepreneur, I would prefer John’s life (and hair) to that of Donald Trump’s anyday.

S’more Entertainment’s American DVD release of The Treasures of Long Gone John also includes a (rather dry) director’s commentary track, a Long Gone John tribute concert, and - best of all - a twenty minute tour of his house and vast collection.


Review by John Harrison/Copyright 2012

PIMPIN' IT

Recent portrait of me, taken by Coreen down Inkerman St (a street in St Kilda noted for its streetwalkers).

 

SCHOOL'S OUT

The old high school (CBC St. Kilda) as seen from the rear. Was a strange experience going back there last Thursday for the class reunion - great to catch-up with old friends and classmates, sad to see one of them now confined to a wheelchair, surprised to see a couple of them had become cops, surreal to see the teachers now looking anything but the fearsome authority figures they once seemed, and funny to see our old PE (Physical Education) teacher going outside to light-up every 10 minutes (as he said to me when I expressed surprise to see he was now a smoker: "Son, I was just as big a smoker back then. Just because I told you boys not to do it, didn’t mean I couldn’t do it" ).

The tour of the school grounds also produced some mixed emotions. Of course, it felt nowhere near as expansive as it did when you were sixteen. But apart from some changes to the front facade, the addition of a gym, and the rows of books in the library now replaced by rows of computers (sad but hardly unexpected), not a whole lot seemed to have changed...in fact, devoid of the life of several hundred rowdy kids, the place seemed dirty and downright archaic in places, giving it an overall sense of cold concrete decay and depression that felt about as warm and inviting as an abandoned nuclear power plant.

ARGO

Argo easily takes top spot in my list of best movies I have seen this year. Directed by/starring the ever-improving Ben Affleck (Hollywoodland, The Town), Argo tells the recently declassified true story of CIA operative Tony Mendez who attempts to extract six Americans from the US-hating Iran of 1980, using the guise of a Canadian film crew in the country to scout locations for a bad, low-budget sci-fi space film.

 Argo is - first and foremost - an incredibly well-paced and tense thriller, with a genuinely nail-biting climax. It is much more in tone with classic 70s/80s cinema like All the President's Men and Salvador than most current American thrillers. But on another level, Argo also works as a wonderful homage to/satire of the world of low-budget genre filmmaking from the era, when cheap Star Wars rip-offs dominated the drive-ins (Mendez first got the idea for his plan while watching Battle for the Planet of the Apes on TV with his son, and John Goodman appears as legendary make-up artist John Chambers, who won an Oscar for his work on the original Planet of the Apes and acted as a consultant for the CIA on this operation).

Argo might suffer a little in the character development department, but its many great points - which also include some stunning widescreen cinematography and a sountrack of vintage cuts by the Stones, Van Halen and Led Zep - more than compensate.