The Right Wigs for Intergalactic Flight

It's hard enough making it as a rock band--try making it as a rock band in space. The titular band of 1986's Vicious Lips have to contend with replacing a dead lead singer, the search for lucrative gigs, and crash landing on a desert planet. A film with ambitions far exceeding its budget, nonetheless it has a definite 1980s New Wave glam charm and surprisingly decent songs by Drock.

The opening titles are accompanied by a song about following your dreams no matter what and this imperative is referred back to a few times in the film in contrast to the obstacles encountered by a group of young women actually trying to attain their dreams.

There's the crash landing, there's the ravenous alien monster, there's the bewitching desert sirens. But the biggest troubles are of the heart. After lead singer Ace Lucas (Angela O'Neill) leaves the band and is vaguely killed off screen (we kind of have to infer it) the band's manager, Matty (Anthony Kentz), starts scouting for new blood.

He finds Judy Jetson (Dru-Anne Perry), a clean cut teenager doing some kind of performance art where she lip syncs to a male singer's performance. It kind of reminded me of the Club Silencio scene from Mulholland Drive which makes me wonder if David Lynch had the movie on while he was sleeping one night.

There's also a brief shot of a prostitute with three breasts a full four years before Total Recall. I wonder if this film is secretly very influential.

Although Judy proves to be a decent singer, the drummer, Mandaa (Shayne Farris), is wary of her and won't commit to welcoming her, especially after Matty decides to give her the stage name of "Ace Lucas" so he won't have to change the posters.

After he somehow manages to land them a big gig, they take ship to Maxine's Radioactive Dream but hit an asteroid along the way and the bulk of the movie is spent with the band hashing out their drama on the crashed vessel while Matty trudges through the desert.

Matty is a bit annoying, a lame comedic type, the weaselly, unscrupulous manager. All the band members are pretty and their hair is appreciably extreme but only Shayne Farris as the drummer gives an interesting performance. She tries to play cool and make Judy insecure about her future with the band. Mandaa's still nursing the wound of Ace's death (despite barely acknowledging it when it occurs) and it turns into resentment for Judy. Farris conveys the emotional undertones of uncertainty and yearning pretty well.

The film ends a bit abruptly as though the production ran out of time and/or money. A dream sequence, a montage of footage from earlier in the film, and a performance by the band unfold with little narrative logic. But the ride is still worth it if you like this kind of '80s cheese.

Vicious Lips is available on Amazon Prime.

Another Drink for Flynn

Do cool minds and hot heads ever mix well? Errol Flynn with circumscribed mirth attracts the very passionate Maureen O'Hara in 1952's Against All Flags. The tale of a spy for the Royal Navy who infiltrates the pirate stronghold on 17th century Madagascar is also the story of a mature gentleman keeping his head while winning, and surviving, the affections of a red headed pirate queen. It's a good pirate adventure with a romance surprisingly sophisticated in its sexiness.

We're introduced to Brian Hawke (Flynn) taking a flogging at his own request--just so his back will be properly striped to support his cover story on the island. So it's not for lack of courage or heartiness that he's not quick to fight or jump in bed.

Meanwhile, few leading ladies of mid-20th century Hollywood could so convincingly play a swashbuckler as Maureen O'Hara. Jean Peters is good in Anne of the Indies but O'Hara had size, strength, reflexes, and, most importantly for this film, a great capacity for fury. Flynn's calm is particularly impressive in the face of her storm.

When I first watched this film I was disappointed by the sedate and inebriated performance from Errol Flynn, who, at this point, was often infamously drunk on set. He was well past his prime years in the 1930s but I find my appreciation for older Errol Flynn has increased over the years, maybe because I'm older myself.

The contrast between him and O'Hara's character--aptly called "Spitfire"--is certainly stark.

Once it seems Brian has joined with the pirates, she invites him to demonstrate what he can do with his hands now that they're untied. Despite having tried to kiss her earlier, he makes the very obvious excuse that he has no time for such things, being employed with tallying the value of a recent plunder. In my 2015 review of the film I was disappointed Flynn didn't submit to her dominatrix vibe. Now I think he did the right thing. If he'd given in, he'd have been just another one of her boys. He's not so much of a patriarch he doesn't see the value in earning her respect, even if it's by teasing her.

To do that, though, he has to be able to see past the emotions of the moment, which is the kind of instinct that generally only comes with age, if it comes at all. So it really does seem like a romance between an older man and a younger woman instead of just an older star slotted into a role written for a younger man, as so often happened in Hollywood.

Who but Errol Flynn, when taking part in the plunder of an enemy ship, thinks to calm the captured princess by kissing her--and actually succeeds in calming her by doing so? The Indian princess (Alice Kelley) is more of a child than Spitfire. She takes to following him around, continually demanding "Again! Again!", wanting kisses. But he's not a real scoundrel so he won't press his advantage. The idea of him finally settling with Spitfire at the end makes sense because she has the emotional fortitude to eventually laugh at herself when he stirs her up.

Against All Flags is available on Amazon Prime.

Twitter Sonnet #1392

The noodle cam'ra takes the pasta shot.
In packaged words the battle shrunk the guns.
Impressions dim behind the bloody cot.
'long sudden turns the angled river runs.
Intensely green the sleeves would steal a dirk.
Relinquished bodkin bit the frosty dawn.
Mistaken walk requests were truly work.
A million blades await across the lawn.
Concluded days salute the soul of rock.
Apart from beasts, the board was wholly clean.
Arrangements firmly placed the foot in sock.
Advancements failed that couldn't break the bean.
Replacements brought the moon from ice and snow.
Endorsements breathed like people never grow.

For Fun and Jewellery

Some steal out of desperation, others steel for sheer mischievousness, as is the case for the title character of 1945's The Wicked Lady. The plot is the silliest of melodramas but watching Margaret Lockwood and James Mason doing dastardly deeds is delicious enough to compel me to forgive a great many flaws. I say Lockwood and Mason but this movie definitely belongs to Lockwood. We follow her in her double life as the scheming, selfish aristocrat with the dynamite decolletage and as the pistol toting masked rider, fleecing travellers entirely on her own sadistic whim. She's magnificent.

Sweet and virtuous Caroline (Patricia Roc) is all set to wed the wealthy country magistrate, Sir Ralph Skelton (Griffith Jones). She's truly in love but he's only fond of her. Still, this is good enough for marriage it seems, especially since she's already running his household. Everything's swell until Caroline innocently invites her dear old friend Barbara (Lockwood) to stay.

After Caroline casually mentions Sir Ralph is the only eligible and wealthy bachelor left in the neighbourhood, Barbara rapidly works her charms until not only is Sir Ralph madly in love with her, Caroline has even been manipulated into being bridesmaid at what should have been her own wedding.

Settling into married life, Barbara finds her first obstacle when a visiting noblewoman, Lady Kinsclere (Enid Stamp Taylor), outfoxes her. She manages to manipulate Barbara's pride with combative cattiness until Barbara stakes her prize necklace in a card game at which she's a complete amateur.

But Barbara proves more capable of thinking outside the box than her rival when she retrieves her necklace at gunpoint in the guise of a highway robber.

This is only the beginning of her career and she soon attracts the attention of the infamous Captain Jackson (Mason).

The two make a great couple, both charming and ruthless, plundering the roads in the evening before retiring at a local inn--still both wearing their masks--for rest and recreation. Remember when masks were kinky?

The plot from there proceeds into silliness. I guess Barbara has things worked out so well that the only way the writers could think of to get her in trouble was to have her inexplicably confess to Caroline that she only ever wanted to exploit Sir Ralph for his money. Still, she's absolutely captivating. I could watch this capital vixen all day.

The Wicked Lady is available on The Criterion Channel.

The Boy Without Age

What does it mean never to grow up? A few writers and artists have pondered the question but perhaps the most famous example is the source material for Disney's 1953 animated film Peter Pan. Having a much tighter, more focused narrative vision than the studio's previous film, Alice in Wonderland, it nevertheless feels less focused than Cinderella. Changes to J.M. Barrie's original play and novel downplay the tragic elements of the story while also the romantic chemistry between Peter and Wendy. However, the film's design, animation, and performances are so perfectly suited to the story's characters and environment it would be the rare person who, in an honest spirit, didn't come away from it smiling.

On one hand, it's perfectly natural for Disney to choose one of the most famous fantasies of all time for their next animated film. On the other hand, Peter Pan represents a move in the opposite direction from the themes underlying their previous animated films which stressed the importance, and even beauty, of growing up. Peter Pan is arguably the philosophical opposite of Pinocchio. Neverland is a much happier version of Pleasure Island, being what Pinocchio and the other children probably imagined Pleasure Island to be. But where in Pinocchio never growing up means becoming an ass, in Peter Pan it just means endless fun. Barrie's novel and stage play gave us something more complicated.

Barrie's story, or stories, considering the differences between the play and the novel, are much more even-handed in their presentation of the eternal child. It's amazing he can fly and his endless supply of pluck and innocence is really lovely. But he's also petty and quickly purges his mind of his own mistakes or displays of weakness--moments after crying he proclaims he's never cried in his life. He retains no memory of even his dearest friends--of course, memory is a key component for defining age. The significant exception to this failure to remember friends is Wendy and even with her he's not 100%. None of this is present in the Disney film so we have only Pan's good qualities. One wonders if this might have been different if the film had been made around the same time as Pinocchio.

In one way, the film is almost faithful to Barrie's vision, and that's with Tinkerbell. She is the pretty, jealous, vain, and adorable little creature she is in the original with the added wonder of Disney's animation, some of their sexiest work for a female character. The climax of her story is deprived of the same level of sacrifice it has in the source material, which is a real shame, because with the way she's so brilliantly animated her choice to take the poison for Peter would've been absolutely heartbreaking. And even better if she never consented to do a kind thing for Wendy when Peter wasn't watching.

Poor Wendy doesn't fare as well as Tink. Without the lovely kiss scene at the beginning or Peter's uncharacteristic retention of her memory at the end she becomes just an annoying scold. She's there only to run behind Peter, telling him not to do whatever it is he's doing.

Her voice is Kathryn Beaumont, the same girl who voiced Alice, and she also shot live action reference footage for both films, giving a charming performance. But where in Alice she was shortchanged by a lack of focus on her character's issues, here she's cheated of nuance. She plays mother to Peter, her brothers, and the Lost Boys as she does in the source material but she has none of the more charming, innocent, childlike moments like her "medicine" which is just water in a bottle or her accidentally letting the boys nap on a rock too long because all she's learned so far about outings is the time table.

I'm reminded of Dungeons and Dragons and role playing games in general. Time and time again in RP I've seen boys instinctively look to the one or two female players for permission, to guide them on moral limits. And the girls, in an instinctive response, play minders, setting down boundaries and rules of conduct. So it is with Wendy, who arbitrarily comes up with bed times and meal times for the boys which they all instinctively seem to feel a need for.

Neverland is quite a bit like a Dungeons and Dragons campaign setting. Where Dragonlance or Forgotten Realms borrowed elements from the Middle Ages while breezing past elements in danger of being boring, like economy and agriculture, Neverland presents aspects of the kinds of stories that might have inspired Edwardian English boys with little or no logical consistency. A dash of Treasure Island, a spot of King Solomon's Mines, a little Robinson Crusoe. On this little island are some of the more exciting figures of exotic, overseas adventures, pirates and Indians, engaged in endless, meaningless adventures, battles, kidnappings, and ambushes. These distant lands and people couldn't possibly be realised in the fullness distinctive of real people with just the resources an Edwardian boy has at hand so the child's imagination fills in the blanks. This kind of fantasy can be really terrific. Films like The Thief of Bagdad have a peculiar charm of their own that doesn't exactly belong to Britain or to Bagdad.

That said, the "What Made the Red Man Red" musical sequence in the Disney film is certainly a low point. It's more of an extended joke based on 1950s stereotypes of American Indians than the more innocent conception in the source material. Tiger Lily is prettily designed and animated, though.

Coming off significantly better are the pirates. Disney always did pirates well in the 1950s. The 1950 Treasure Island remains my favourite pirate movie. They're colourful not just visually but in terms of personality and design, too. Hans Conried as the voice of Captain Hook creates a definitive take on the character along with his lanky design. As was traditional in the stage production, Conreid also voices the father of Wendy and her brothers. But the film lacks enough of the original story's actual ruminations on the differences between adulthood and childhood to make this meaningful.

Pan is voiced by Bobby Driscoll, Jim Hawkins from Treasure Island, though his voice had dropped by the time of Peter Pan, making the character seem more like a teenager. He gives a better performance than in his live action roles, though.

Barrie's novel contains material not in the play including a tedious and sentimental sequence involving Wendy's parents. I don't necessarily mind sentimentality but it's a bit too much time to spend on characters who don't really figure into the meat of the story. But the end of the book, dealing with the tragedy of Peter's eternal boyhood and Wendy's inevitable transformation into an adult, is powerful stuff. The film is wonderful but, like Alice in Wonderland, falls well short of the original.

Various Places for Masks and Doctors

The Masque of Mandragora is nearly perfect but deeply flawed. The 1976 Doctor Who serial has very good performances, terrific atmosphere, and uncommonly good direction. But, although many conceptual elements are wonderful, the writing is disappointing.

The serial opens with a nice, amusing conversational scene in the TARDIS introducing a temporary, alternate console room.

It actually doesn't look so different to some of the modern Who console rooms though the lack of a column in the middle to move up and down seems like an oversight.

Soon they run across a sinister spatial phenomenon that leads to "Mandragora energy" hitching a ride on the TARDIS and the Doctor (Tom Baker) unknowingly taking it to 15th century Italy. The atmosphere quickly starts to feel nicely classical. I love the shot of Sarah Jane (Elisabeth Sladen) picking a persimmon looking like a Pre-Raphaelite painting.

She calls them oranges but she bites right into it so I'm assuming it was really a persimmon.

Sarah Jane often seems dissatisfied in this story. The wiki says Elisabeth Sladen stayed on an additional seven months past her originally intended departure from the show because she wanted to film this story yet there are a number of moments where she seems chafe at how Sarah Jane is basically a damsel in distress for the whole serial. When the Doctor is making calculations in his head and says aloud, "17 from 60," she automatically says, "43," which seems improvised. The serial is also famous for the scene where Sarah Jane questions her ability to understand Italian to which the Doctor gives one of the old "I'll explain later"s. A later scene has him claim that he knew she was hypnotised by the cultists because she'd asked this question that she'd never asked before. Surely being hypnotised would make her less capable of independent thought, not more? It makes me wonder if Sladen had improvised the question.

Things feel more Shakespearean in the city where a ruthless Count (Jon Laurimore) is trying to steal the throne from the rightful heir, Giuliano (Gareth Armstrong). Giuliano's friend, Marco, is played by Tim Pigott-Smith who looks much as he did playing Hotspur in The BBC Television Shakespeare's production of "Henry IV: Part I" from around that time.

I suspect many of the costumes came from The BBC Television Shakespeare, too, although the TARDIS wiki notes a few of the costumes actually come from two different Romeo and Juliet feature films from the 60s. In any case, Shakespeare definitely hangs over every scene, and perhaps it's the comparison that makes the writing so disappointing.

We're never told why the Count has so much support among the palace guard or why Giuliano doesn't seem to have any, an omission that becomes a bigger problem when the same guards chasing the protagonists seem ready to switch allegiances at a moment's notice. For a story about court intrigue, the nature of the political machinations is too often vague.

But I can forgive the serial this for all of its good points. Turning in a memorably creepy performance as the Count's seer, Norman Jones is deep voiced and maniacal as he intones the will of Mandragora. He and his cultists in their masks are wonderfully creepy.

Even creepier are the masks at the masque. It's like Eyes Wide Shut 23 years early.

There are a lot of dynamic shots of the Doctor in action scenes I really like. When he escapes execution in the second episode he runs past some guards examining a corpse burned by Mandragora and doesn't notice them. And then there's some nice cat and mouse stuff in a market. It really is great to watch.

Twitter Sonnet #1391

Another sandwich smooshed beneath the train.
Respected pickles sliced before the brine.
Resplendent check bedecked the luncheon plane.
Connexions frayed the dreams of mountain twine.
A wrinkled fin precedes the walking hand.
Untimely fish assembled under mud.
With sibling gills the troupe appraised the band.
Displayed in vain the face collects its blood.
Replaced with grapes the apples wander off.
Extended time enlarged the oaken clock.
Entrancing air was making spirits cough.
Exposure drained the lofty summit rock.
Resourceful pixels built the lasting burn.
A million screens can cram a single urn.

Deborah Milton Begins a Glorious Life at Sea

As promised approximately one year ago to-day, here's a new chapter of my web comic, Dekpa and Deborah. Have I complained recently how long it takes to make these? I thought I was going to have this chapter finished by Tuesday but I somehow managed to forget yet again how long it takes to colour. I had to set it all aside while working at school for three days and then, to-day, what I thought was about three hours work left on the chapter ended up being around ten. Thank God for audiobooks.

Anyway, enjoy, I have no idea when the next chapter will be up but I'll scrape together the time somehow.

Lovers or Their Louder Shadows

A ballet of oppressive, silent tension is enacted by Ann Todd, Trevor Howard, and Claude Rains in David Lean's 1949 film The Passionate Friends. Based on an H.G. Wells novel, it may be the most reticent romance ever filmed, unless that's In the Mood for Love. But for all the ravishment that does not occur, Lean fills the film with an intense, ever present, and arresting potential.

The film begins with a somewhat disorientating cascade of flashbacks. Mary (Todd) recalls a vacation to Switzerland some years ago where she happens to be placed in a room beside Steven's (Howard). Then in this flashback is another from nine years prior in which Mary runs into Steven at a New Year's party in Italy--and then she recalls their passionate collage affair. This last layer is not depicted. It's so complicated it could be funny but the tone is understated enough and the performances by Todd and Howard so good, you're already more concerned with trying to fit together the pieces of the past shared by the two.

Already by that 1939 New Year's party Mary's married to Howard (Rains) whom she has no desire to divorce at first. She had a passionate young love with Steven and Howard prefers to think of their marriage as cooler but healthier. The movie interestingly frames Howard's perspective alongside the European political stage leading up to World War II. At one point, Howard, a banker, is holding forth on the economic situation in Germany and upbraids the "Teutonic mind" for being always corrupted by power because it's too "romantic".

He condemns the "romantic" love between Mary and Steven in a later scene. He says he knew Mary didn't love him when he married her but preferred the idea of having a good, solid, attractive companion by his side to enjoy his wealth. The title of the film may then refer to Mary and Howard since they're more like friends than lovers, despite being married, or it could refer to Mary and Steven, who are friends in name but clearly wish for more in practise.

The movie is perhaps best looked at as a series of moments where two or three people stand or sit beside each other anticipating. The mixture of dread and longing in that anticipation is always palpable, delivered by the performers and compositions.

In one particularly striking scene, Mary runs into her hotel room and past Howard whom she doesn't see sitting beside the door. She rushes to the balcony to wave at Steven. The shot is presented from Howard's point of view, her back is to us, and we're left to wonder about the expression on her face. As she turns, a gust of wind blows the curtains before her and she becomes a silhouette, denying us revelation a moment longer, even while Howard's, and our, instincts surely have guessed all.

The Passionate Friends is available on The Criterion Channel.

Halloween's Already in the Trees

It's September now so I guess it's close enough to Halloween for me to start watching "Treehouse of Horror" episodes of The Simpsons. At any rate, it's where I'm at in my rewatch of season four.

The third Treehouse, still just called a Halloween special, features a zombie outbreak story, an evil doll story, and a weird homage to King Kong with Homer in the title role.

There's also a framing story about the family and their friends and neighbours convening on Halloween. The best part of this is the understated visual joke of Bart dressed as Alex from A Clockwork Orange. The implications of the costume are best left unsaid.

Homer is an oddly natural fit in the role of King Kong. My favourite part is when he's unable to scale the building at the end. The visual gag is executed with perfect timing--it's not until he falls over from exhaustion that we see he's only made it a few feet up the building.

The zombie story is funny and notable for coming long before the zombie boom of the late '00s and early teens. Maybe this is why most of the jokes are derived from the zombie taste for brains. Poor Homer is the butt of another joke when the zombies lose interest after discovering his skull sounds hollow. I love how offended he looks.

Finally (or firstly), a monkey's paw story setting leads to Homer buying an evil Krusty the Clown doll. I love how it takes the doll a few tries before Homer understands he's meant to be frightened. But the best part is when the doll turns good and pretends Lisa's Barbie is his wife. His commitment to the illusion of the doll house hits just the right convergence of terribly sad and casually weird to be very funny.

Twitter Sonnet #1390

A second turned the guest to number one.
A third became a minute past the day.
A fourth would venture out in glades to run.
A fifth would tally bands who never play.
A sixth would sic for cups a mouth to sip.
A seventh cut a vent behind the coat.
An eighth reflects on quickly eaten dip.
A ninth remands the crew to sink the boat.
A tenth was present watching past the stress.
Eleventh place awards the elves with mint.
A twelfth rewards an elf with sightly less.
Thirteenth would thirst for whiskey soaked in lint.
Fourteenth's for teams in steaming oil pots.
Fifteenth's an "if" beyond the draw of lots.

The Trick-Or-Treaters Far and Wide

It is with great pleasure that I can report Halloween has infiltrated Japan. I picked up this tin of cookies on the way home from my first day back at the junior high to-day where I'd met a student who told me she'd gone trick-or-treating last year. It's difficult to see what more I could do to bring western culture to this land. The shop where I got the tin also had pre-filled candy buckets shaped like jack-o-lanterns and black cats.

Here are some more photos I've taken recently:

Many insects about.

The view from my bathroom window one rainy afternoon.

Unlucky frog or just his skin, I'm not sure.

It's funny how people just assume Christ wasn't a duck.