The Evil Dead (1981)



Evil Dead opens April 5th

Evil Dead, the highly anticipated remake of the seminal 1981 horror, made its premier at the 2013 South By Southwest Festival in Austin, Texas on March 9th.

Almost seven years in the making, the film opened the year's festival in front of a packed house of rabid horror freaks waiting to get their first peek at the reboot to one of the most important and popular - and gory - cult horror franchises.

Hardcore Evil Dead fans, also known as "Deadites," in reference to the possessed demons from the film, expressed concerns over how their beloved series would receive the royal Hollywood treatment. Directed by Fede Alvarez, who is taking the helm for his first film, worries of another pointless remake was eased with the inclusion of the original film's creator and director Sam Raimi and star Bruce Campbell, who both joined on to produce the project. Preliminary reviews from the hordes of eager fans has been generally positive, and trailers and TV spots for the film have shown potential for the new film to rival the ferocity of the original, but there still remains mixed feelings strewed across the fan base. Compare the trailers below and decide for yourself.

WARNING: the following videos or photographs will be of graphic content. Proceed at your own risk.

The news of a remake comes as no surprise to aficionados of the horror genre.  Within the last decade horror classic after classic has been slaughtered by the money making machine of big budget Hollywood production companies trying to take a big, nasty bite out of the original film's popularity. These "new" movies even go as far as to label themselves as "re-imaginings," as in to not destroy any credibility of the originals reputation among hardcore fans.

But we horror fiends are no women in distress - we know what happens to those characters - and we sure as hell know better than to accept the pathetic self-justifications of some Hollywood movie producer. Fact is, these shitty remakes will be permanently linked to these horror films with entries in the film's series. The most terrifying horror story is that a new generation only know of the remakes, as the originals are slowly receding into the shadows.

Cult horror films from the 70s and 80s cashed in on minuscule budgets, innovative storylines, grandiose scenes of gore, and a philosophy of keeping things simple: small crews emphasize the blood, sweat and tears (mostly blood!) of crafting a unique film experience unlike any other.



1981 Theatrical Poster

The original Evil Dead, which was released to theaters in 1983, is the epitome of a cult horror film: filmed in 1981 for a mere $350,000, it grossed nearly $2.5 million at theaters, and its reputation became even larger once released onto the home video market.

Based off his short film Within the Woods, Raimi (Spider Man, Oz the Great and Powerful) waited two years until he secured funding to turn his amateur short film into a feature full length film, then another year until the film was picked up for distribution rights following a screening at Cannes in 1982.

The plot to the remake doesn't deviate too far from the original: Five friends vacation to a cabin deep in the woods of Tennessee only to discover an ancient book bound in human flesh. The five friends, unbeknownst to them, unleash a powerful, demonic spirit laying dormant in the woods into their world - and it won't rest until it has taken over every soul.

The original Evil Dead's reputation rests solely on the excess amounts of gore and the original story. Horror films of the 70s and 80s are renowned for their use of special effects, which was still in its infancy stage. The Evil Dead is the epochal splatter film, representing the first in a string of gory movies turning the horror genre bright red, and the amount of blood in this film is more than the human body can contain - or the stomach can handle.

When I heard of a forthcoming remake, I initially thought, "Here we go again," after having my guts ripped out by remakes of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974, 2003) and Halloween (1978, 2007), seminal films in the evolution of the horror film as we know it. The Evil Dead is one of those films.

A positive that The Evil Dead remake has going for it is it's the first of these remakes to incorporate members from the original production team. Raimi, Campbell, and Rob Tapert, who produced the original, have all publically stated their enthusiasm over the new film for its ability to push viewers to the edge of their seats in pure terror - and disgust - much in the same way the original did 30 years ago.

Horror films of the last decade have relied heavily on the use of CGI for blood and dismemberment effects as an effective way to bring innovative creativity to the screen. CGI costs more than creating hand-made prosthetics, and with the advent of high-definition technology, some makeup effects can come off rather cheesy and fake in appearance.

The original Evil Dead falls into the latter, but it's these highly unrealistic effects that make the film all the more endearing to its fans.

Rob Tapert in an interview with Movieweb.com said, "Fede has decided to buck the recent trend of using digitized blood, instead opting for a more tangible substance just like back in the good old days."

But let's look at a scene that is represented in both versions of the film:

1981

2013

"We didn't do any CGI in the movie," said director Fede Alvarez in an interview with Shock Till You Drop. "There's no CGI in the movie. Everything you will see is real, which was really demanding."
Maybe it's just me, but the makeup from the new film, specifically the eyes and teeth, look like CGI images. This observation  is only validated when watching the trailer for the film as the facial movements seem artificial.

Whatever the case may be, first reports from the SXSW Festival say that ending lives up to the Evil Dead moniker, and an estimated 50,000 gallons of blood was used for one day of shooting.



Ashley J. Williams

Another aspect that makes me hold my breath over the remake is the character of Ashley J. Williams. Portrayed by Bruce Campbell (Burn Notice) in 1981, Ash has become an iconic character of the Evil Dead franchise and a cult horror movie hero. The new film doesn't feature Ash as a main character (there is a cameo by Campbell reprising his role), and that's a good thing.

Ash is a cowardly, bumbling and likeable character, burdened with having to ward off and kill his loved ones once they become possessed by the evil spirits. Ash was named 24th on Empire Magazine's list of the Greatest Movie Character of All Time for his humorous one-liners and knack for slapstick gags. He's even noteworthy for his famous chainsaw appendage, which he adopts after cutting off his demon possessed hand, transforming him into one badass zombie killer.

I think it's wonderful that the new film doesn't include a character of Ash's stature. But the fact is that if there is no Ash, then there's no Evil Dead. The character of Ash is what propelled The Evil Dead ahead of the knockoffs that followed. Without him the film was another silly horror film. And without some element as likeable or comparable to Ash, Evil Dead is just another useless remake.

Nova Local Nova 1 (1967)

On March 17th, mtvU held the 2013 Woodie Awards, an event for college students to vote on their favorite music of the year, while also giving recognition to the best college bands on campuses around the country.

The Woodie awards was primarily setup to celebrate underground and indie music, which got me to thinking...

What if the awards were organized years before? Say in 1967, for instance.

There is no greater cult in music than that of the college band - bands that were created on small campus, bands that toured the college circuit in busted up vans, and bands that relied heavily on having their music played across college radio stations.

Nearly 50 years ago, in the college town of Chapel Hill, North Carolina, one such band skipped all that warm-up, soundcheck crap.

The Nova Local was a band created in 1964 by five students attending the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. The story of the Nova Local is one that upon first hearing seems far-fetched, but in the realm of cult music, comes off perfectly normal.

The Nova Local cut their performing chops playing for fraternity parties around the campus of UNC and local clubs around town. When bassist Jim Opton's fraternity sponsored a charity event - booking Chad and Jeremy, a popular English folk duo to perform at the university - Opton needed a band to open the show. Opton figured he would get his band, The Nova Local, to perform based on their reputation around campus and because they were "cheap."

The only part of the deal that brought Chad and Jeremy to UNC was for Rob Heller, who worked at William Morris Agency which worked for Chad and Jeremy, was to come and listen to the Nova Local play.

Heller signed the band right after the concert and they were put in contact with producer Elliott Mazur. According to an interview from Oldish Psych and Prog Blog, bassist Jim Opton said, "We got a recording contract with Decca, I don't know how, but Rob put that deal together with Elliott, and the next thing you know, we are in the studio with all kinds of famous people that had us in awe for the first 35 seconds or so."

In December of 1966, the band was invited to New York to record their first album primarily based off their performances around the Chapel Hill area. Very few bands in the history of music have been signed to a record contract after one performance, especially after a performance at a college show.

"I do know that somebody thought were kind of special," said Opton, "because the studio was absolutely closed to visitors while we were there and we were not allowed to take home raw tape to play for anyone."

The album, Nova 1, was released in April of '67 to almost nonexistent fanfare, but, overtime, like any great cult artifact, has gained in popularity considerably since than.

It's sad, really, that the album was not recognized when it was first issued because the music contained within is actually pretty good. The album is a prime example of the burgeoning psychedelic music that would dominate rock music in the latter half of decade. But don't be fooled by misconceptions of the acid-rock scene or by the trippy, drug-induced, cartoony cover.

The sound still hangs on to that raw element many college bands possessed, but after I listened to the record for the first time, I was stunned by the maturity of how the band sounded. There is a confidence and originality in arrangements of certain songs. Take a listen to their cover version of "Tobacco Road," a song about growing up in North Carolina.

The arrangement is brave when you compare it to the original version sung by The Nashville Teens, or even the popular bluesy British band The Animals' hit single, and the Nova's version is far superior than the Jefferson Airplane's studio recorded version, a extremely popular psychedelic band in 1967.

Nova 1 is one of the first albums to feature a predominate fuzz bass on songs, a technique made popular with The Beatles. The album contains some fantastic guitar tones, especially on the opening track "$5 a Ticket," where the sibilant guitar chords add a grungy feel, lending to the garage band sound.

But just like any great thing, it too shall come to pass, and after the album was released, The Nova Local disbanded and disappeared into obscurity forever. It's a shame that such a promising band with a fairy-tale story didn't fair well in the music business, but then again, maybe they're better for it. Maybe they would have recorded another album, another failure, and then become just another has-been band. Instead, we're left with a golden nugget of an album, one that creeps from the shadows every so often and receives the recognition it deserves.

The Blob (1958)

The 1950s drive-in sci-fi classic The Blob slithers its way to blu-ray courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

Originally released on DVD in 2000, this re-release offers an all-new digital restoration offering high-definition picture and sound, and supplemental material that includes two audio commentaries: one by producer Jack H. Harris and the other by director Irvin S. Yeaworth Jr. and actor Robert Fields, a gallery of stills, posters and props, and - a staple of all Criterion releases - a booklet featuring an essay written by British horror/sci-fi critic Kim Newman. Never before has the celluloid looked and sounded so - gooey!

The Blob is quintessential 50s science fiction and stars Steve McQueen, "The King of Cool," in his first leading role as Steve Andrews, a teenager who witnesses a fiery meteor crash into a field in the small town of Downingtown, Pennsylvania. Upon further investigation with his girlfriend, Jane, Steve realizes the meteor contains a spineless creature from outer space that grows larger and pulsates more with each human it devours. Can Steve warn the town before everyone is sucked up? Beware the Blob!

Please mind the Italian dubbing on the soundtrack (doesn't it make the scene all the more stranger?), but if you look closely at the faces of some the people running out of the theater, you will notice big smiles smeared across their faces. And it's by no accident those smiles are there. Everyone is smiling because The Blob is fun.

And the fun starts right from the get-go as a wonderful, campy theme song plays over the opening credits as a slinky vortex of red circles spirals across the screen. "Beware of the blob, it creeps/And leaps and slides and glides/Across the floor..." The theme song is just as bouncy as the star of the film. But it's there where the novelty ends and The Blob gains its legs - not that this blob has the capacity to grow legs...

This film is another example of the prominent 1950s delinquent film, much in the same vain as Rebel Without a Cause (1955) and Blackboard Jungle (1955), where the teenage characters of Steve and Jane are fervent in trying to convince people amidst severe parental suppression that something is seriously wrong in their small, quiet town.

The movie opens with Steve and Jane sitting in a car at night, parked in a dark forest on the edge of town. Set the scene for the typical make-out spot, as the two lovers - instead of kissing - are looking up towards the stars. And thank goodness they were because what they see next is a shooting star spiting fire across the sky and barreling straight into the earth. Our smug and prudish characters are curious and decide to see where the meteor crashed. The two are sidetracked along the way and caught drag racing with the local teen hooligans, and from here on Steve and Jane's credibility is tossed aside by parents and local law officials.

The Blob belongs to the so-good-they're-bad categories of films, also known as a B-film, where, the B - fortunately - doesn't stand for blob. On the surface, the film comes off as another low-budget sci-fi flick, where cheap special effects and bad acting thrive and are perfectly acceptable. But the beauty about The Blob is how serious the movie takes itself.

Besides the crude effects (from the sky the meteor looks tremendous, but in reality the crater it leaves could be dug by my 6-year old nephew), if  an amoeba-like alien arriving from outer space wasn't believable enough, then would you accept an 28-year old Steve McQueen portraying a 17-year old snot-nosed kid? I didn't think so, but it's this blatant casting of an unknown, older McQueen that heightens the effective campiness of the film. And his terrible acting is more horrific than the blob consuming its first victim.

The Blob was filmed for a mere $110,000 dollars, and because of the non-existent budget, the crew incorporated innovative effects to get the desired look. In order to create a slithering, menacing, villain, the special effects crew created miniature replicas of set pieces. Positioned on a hydraulic press, the models, with the blob in place, were titled and gravity took its course.

If the blob wasn't made out of red-dyed silicone, then it would be made out of cheese. A slimy, crawling blob is the least threatening of all 1950s monster movies and comparable to a slug. There are two scenes that come to mind that show off the "prowess" of the slow-moving creature. One scene, where a nurse shuffles around a room to escape the jelly mass that's yet to move, violently crashes into a small, thin lamp, sending her, the lamp, and the entire power grid of the house down for the count. Another scene involves Jane in a closed supermarket, and when she sees the hideous monster, she is so overcome with fear, her body is inexplicably thrown into a display of tin cans.

How could anyone get swallowed whole by this thing? Two simple rules:

1) See the blob and run. If you do this you live. Just like the folks from the movie theater.

2) Touch the blob, you become the blob. See Exhibit A below:



Exhibit A

The Blob is more than just another low-budget, schlocky teen horror/sci-fi film. Believe it or not, it is a film that has a message. The film was produced during the Cold War era, where foreign threats of communism and nuclear annihilation threatened the straight laced, dull lifestyle many Americans felt obligated to protect.

Look at the blob for instance: the round red mass represents a substitution for the world, the color represents the "red scare," and once eaten by the blob, the creature spreads it gelatinous infection around the body, taking away any trace of mind, body, and identity. Isn't it political propaganda at it's best?

There are also illusions to Cold War paranoia throughout the film. When Steve and Jane are kissing, three other boys are playing the role of Rosenberg hiding in the bushes. When Steve and Jane report the creature to the police, Jane says she's not sure she even seen the thing. When the attacks of the blob are realized by the police, the sound of a siren is dispersed across the town. One man is awakened by the air raid, puts on a military helmet, and is ready to fight, unknowing of what lies ahead.

The themes are relevant today as they were 55 years ago. As was the case with Russia and Cuba in the 50s and 60s, North Korea currently claims nuclear missiles have their sights set on America. We are left to wonder at what costs it will take to avoid nuclear war. If it involves a flesh-craving alien blob, well, I'm all about that.

Yet still, nothing can save us from that silly, catchy theme song. I don't know what's worse: "Beware of The Blob" or PSY's equally ridiculous "Gangnam Style."

Eventually the townfolk learn how to stop the blob from destroying the simple way of life they all know: refrigeration from a fire extinguisher. [Insert dramatic cue] That's it. That's all it takes. But it doesn't kill the blob, it just freezes the thing rock solid.

The military air lifts the creature to the Artic where it is destined to spend the rest of it's existence. Add some pessimistic advice from McQueen: "As long as the Artic stays cold."

But that's a story for another generation.

The Cult By the Lake: The Grateful Dead Exhibit

Unlike most college students who travel to warm, far away locales for spring break, my short vacation was spent in Cleveland, caught in the frozen throes of swooping gusts rolling off the shores of Lake Erie.  Why Cleveland, you may ask (I asked myself the same question as friends of mine geared up for trips to South Beach and Las Vegas), but something more than the winds generated by the Great Lakes was pulling me to visit the North Coast.

Cleveland is home to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and for someone who loves music and history like I do, when you combine the two, Cleveland is the premier destination to visit - especially when they have temporary exhibits that need to be seen.

Exhibit at R&R HOF

This year's exhibit is dedicated to the greatest American rock band: the Grateful Dead. Opened in April 2012 and continuing up until March 24th this limited-time exhibit, titled The Long, Strange Trip, culls together hundreds of artifacts to commemorate the band's 50 years of making rock and roll music;  highlights include various musical equipment, handwritten lyrics, original artwork and other rare tidbits.

The Grateful Dead formed in 1965 in Palo Alto, California and became one of the most popular groups of the San Francisco scene and the defining band of the countercultural movement. With a unique blend of rock, blues, country, psychedelia and improvisational jazz, the Dead are known for long shows and extended jamming onstage and a differing setlist every night. The Dead  performed as a single unit up until the death of lead guitarist Jerry Garcia in 1995, but original members created offshoot bands that maintain the experience the Dead have created.

So, why the Dead? Why are they an appropriate subject for a blog on cult film?

Even with a long, influential career and induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, the Dead are considered the epitome of a cult band. With 13 studio albums and nine live albums, the band never reached the commercial success of their contemporaries (the band had one unlikely top 10 hit in 1987). It was outside the studio, performing 2,300 live shows, where the Dead built up their fan base and found success that has eluded many popular bands.

The Dead are known for having the most dedicated fans of any band. In the 1970s fans would follow the band along their travels to different cities across the country. "Our audience is like people who like licorice," said Garcia . "Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice."  The fans dedication has led to the label of "Deadhead" to describe their loyalty to the band. In return, the Dead garnered a cult following and became one of the most successful touring acts in the business.

Concert promoter and friend Bill Graham said of the band, "The Grateful Dead aren't the best at what they do; they are the only ones that do what they do." Furthermore, in the 70s, stickers were passed around that said, "There is nothing like a Grateful Dead concert." The band was known for putting on one hell of a show. Performing nonstop for most of the year, shows would run on for three to four hours every night, featuring a rotating setlist every show, and because of the bands improvisational quality, no song was ever played the same way twice.



Original "Wall of Sound" blueprint

Besides the band's unique thoughts about what a performance should be, the Dead had even more grandiose ideas about how a concert should sound. In 1974, when the band was only making $125 a week, the Dead spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to develop the most advanced and visually imposing sound system ever conceived. The new sound system was mammoth, in both sound and size, and was devised as a way to accommodate the bigger arenas they were playing.  The band wanted the best sound possible, so along with their sound engineer, they built what was referred to as "The Wall of Sound." Instead of setting up equipment across a stage, the band stacked speakers on top of each other in towers. Along with this new setup, the band invented new technology that allowed each band member to control his instrument through each stack of speakers. Because the setup was behind the band, they didn't have to rely on front stage monitors to hear what they were playing; instead, the band heard what the audience heard to ensure the crowd received the best listening experience possible.  The setup was monstrous. Comprised of 641 speakers and requiring 26,400 watts of power from 55 600 watt amplifiers, the "Wall of Sound" showed the band was serious about playing music for the fans.

The exhibit in Cleveland features pieces from the infamous sound system. Tucked away behind metal railings, guitars, drums, and pianos were three speaker cabinets from the "Wall." I was minutely disappointed with how such an important phase in the band's sonic history was represented. The "Wall" was big, and I feel more could have been incorporated. I've been to plenty of museums and have seen artifacts from ancient cultures and dinosaur bones (creatures that were much larger than "Wall," but breathed just as much power and freight into anyone who've seen them), but never have I been more in awe than what I witnessed at The Long, Strange Trip exhibit. I was so excited that when the employee sitting in front of the exhibit left, I reached over the railing and smudged some of my DNA all over the wooden speakers. I am now part of the Grateful Dead history. Yes!

Speaker cabinets behind guitar case

But pictures can't do the "Wall" justice. You would have to see and hear it in person to fully appreciate the marvel it truly was. But that was almost 40 years ago, and until someone invents a time machine, that moment is gone forever. But if you want to see the "Wall" in all its glory and witness the affection between the band and its fans, than The Grateful Dead Movie is the perfect document.

Original Theatrical Poster

Released in 1977 but filmed in 1974, the concert film documents the Dead's five-night run at San Francisco's Winterland Arena (the band's home venue) from October 16-20th. These five shows brought to close the year's tour and signaled, at the time, what was to be a definite hiatus from touring. Strange that a band would decide to stop performing gigs, especially when the band created their reputation on the road, and more so after a year like the Dead had in 1974.

The year was a creative apex musically for the Dead. They reached plateaus they never thought possible before, creating beautiful melodies, harmonious, exploratory jamming on stage (including inspired, seamless transitions in between songs); and experimented with new sounds and equipment, including the new sound system, which presented a band that sounded fresh to audiences ears. But all that was merely a mirage.

The band was in financial ruin: their new single didn't chart, their new album faired poorly, they depended on larger venues to preform, and the "Wall" was a bitch to setup and break down after every show. And it didn't help that certain members of the band and crew were lost in a blizzard of cocaine and heroin. By the end of the year, the October Winterland shows were booked and tickets were stamped: "The Last One." The band was broken and tired, but you wouldn't know it by listening to them play.

Here's a scene from the film showing the crew setting up the 'Wall."

The movie doesn't begin like other concert movies. He hear the opening notes of the band's single "U.S. Blues," but instead of seeing the band perform the song, the film begins with a ten-minute animation segment. We have a skeleton - dressed as Uncle Sam - dancing in space, caught in an intergalactic pinball game. The skeleton, cruising down the highway on a motorcycle, is shrouded in a kaleidoscope of hallucinogenic images, until he wakes up in jail with other imposter Uncle Sam's. The Statue of Liberty busts her head through the wall and frees the skeletons from the jail cell, her bright torch morphing into the real disco ball hanging in Winterland's ballroom, 1974.

Original Animation Cell

The Grateful Dead Movie is unique in that it doesn't just present the music of the band. It goes beyond the traditional concert film and tells a story. The film presents both sides to that story, offering incite from band members about their future, and anecdotes from fans about the good ole' days, before the music industry - and the Dead - become mainstream. The following clip shows the relationship between the "Deadheads" and the music created by the Dead.

It doesn't get stranger than that for the Grateful Dead. Okay - maybe it does, but the fans do have a funny way of showing their appreciation. And if anyone is wondering if these people are the dangerous drug-fueled baby eaters the press made hippies out to be, have no fears, they're just really digging the music.

And after the last song on October 20th was played, as roses piled up on the stage, the band bowed and walked off into darkness and into retirement. And not even the band knew for how long.

But a band like the Dead couldn't be keep off the road for too long; fact is, the boys couldn't stand not playing. After a year and a half break and a new album, a revitalized version of the Dead hit the stage in mid-1976. By 1977, after three years of editing, Jerry Garcia pieced together his baby, The Grateful Dead Movie, a true testament to the Grateful Dead experience.

It's true what they say, "In the land of the dark, the ship of the sun is drawn by the Grateful Dead." The band continued truckin' on for another twenty years, continuing their commitment to the music and their fans.

Freaks (1932)

"And now folks, if you will just step right this way, you are about to witness the most amazing, the most astounding, living monstrosity of all time."

A crowd of people walk through a carnival tent moving along handmade wooden railings listening to a barker describe each sideshow attraction, when the group approaches one exhibit and a woman screams and turns away in sheer terror.




Original Theatrical Poster

So begins Tod Browning's seminal horror classic Freaks, a little movie about the deformed oddities that comprise this strange carnival world.

The story moves back in time, the screams of the woman replaced with the jaunting rhythm of calliope music as Cleopatra, a trapeze artist, dangles high in the air.

Cleo is beautiful, her short wavy hair pulled tight against her head, her smile bright, easily noticeable from across the room; her dark stare that of Medusa's, hard to shake from the ground below. And she is being watched.

Down on the ground looking smaller than a normal person would from the trapeze ropes is Hans, a midget sideshow performer who is infatuated with Cleopatra. Hans is engaged to Frieda, a fellow midget performer, but cannot ignore his attraction to the "most beautiful big person" swinging majestically above his head.

Hans spoils Cleo with gifts and expensive wines forcing Frieda to confront Cleo about her love for Hans, and also informs her of Hans' inheritance which will allow him to leave the circus performing lifestyle for good. Cleo, who has no intention of starting a relationship with Hans, is reveling in the spoils of her suitor and when she finds out about his riches, she wants more. Cleo uses her sex appeal to coax the strongman Hercules to devise a plan to get Hans' money.

Hans asks Cleo to marry him and she accepts, which results in the most famous scene in the film, showing the freaks accepting a "normal" person into their group.

After the wedding feast debacle, Frieda and the other freaks learn of Cleo's plan to murder Hans and run off with Hercules and the money. But just like any close knit group, the freaks devise their own plan to protect one of their own.

I was reminded of this late-night classic when AMC premiered Freakshow in February, a reality program scheduled as part of the channel's Thursday night lineup. The show follows former music producer Todd Ray's Venice Beach freakshow establishment as he searches for unique talent to bring to his show. Ray's show features a couple of unique performers such as George Bell, "The Tallest American," standing at a remarkable 7' 8"; the counterpoint to Bell, "The Amazing Ali," a 3' 5" little person; Morgue, who gets his name from his special brand of "shock" acts; Marcus "The Creature," his body covered from head to toe in tattoos and piercings; and Murrugun "The Mystic," known for his sword swallowing skills.

The freaks on AMC's program are no doubt strange, but not one of them compares to the sideshow performers featured in the early horror classic Freaks.

Freaks was unique among Pre-Code horror films in that the look of the "freaks" in the film was not achieved by using special makeup effects. Instead, Browning cast real sideshow oddities for the roles which helped add a sense of realism to the characters. Browning, who is most famous for directing Dracula the year before, used his experiences as a contortionist in a carnival when developing the story of Freaks.

The most rememberable freaks are Daisy and Violet Hilton, twins conjoined at the hip; the "pinheads," a name given to performers who where born with microcephaly, a condition where the person is born with a small skull and brain; and Prince Randian, also known as "The Human Torso" because of his being born without any limbs. Here's a great scene in which Prince Randian shows off one of his talents.

Both Freaks and Freakshow present the sideshow as a business where their performers are placed on a pedestal for the world to see. But Ray builds up his attractions as performers and talents, not deformed freaks put out in front of the world simply for display. Rather, he scours the country for unique talent yet to be seen, offering audiences the chance to see someone truly magnificent, and it doesn't matter how much money he has to spend to get what he wants on display. The performers on Freakshow are normal people like me and you; the shows tag line is normal is relative. When not putting on a show, they spend time together as a family, whether it be bowling, acquiring more acts for their show, or helping each other integrate into "normal" society. Generally, the cast members are accepted by the outside world, albeit some looks and remarks, but in their business that should be expected.

Browning (center) poses with cast of "freaks" on set

Where Ray and his business is solely for entertainment and monetary purposes, Browning offers the viewer a tragic view of a different culture of society, a culture which in the 1930's was viewed as a grotesque offshoot of the mainstream and even rejected by their own kind. A woman takes the pinheads and other members of the sideshow down to the river to spend time in the sun when two men walk up and tell her they have to leave. The woman begs to let them stay, mentioning that the sun is good for the children. One man responds, "Children? They are monsters." There's a scene where Frieda tells Hans, "To me you're a man, but to her you're something to laugh at." Of course Frieda is referring to Cleo's new found interest in Hans, but even as a member of the circus family, Cleo her self is disgusted with the "freaks," as seen in the video clip. Freaks shows the mix of life between the "freaks" and the "normals," where the acrobats make fun of the oddities that surround them. Others are more accepting such as Phroso the clown and Venus, another circus performer, but for the most part the freaks are outcasts even in a place where they should be accepted.

But it's in how the television program and the film show how these "freaks" interact with each other that determines how they want to be viewed by society. The performers in the Freakshow are making money, living in the real world, whereas the "freaks" in the film are stuck in a traveling troupe, falsely portrayed as monsters who live by an honorable code as seen in the film's horrifying conclusion, intentionally playing upon the stereotypes of how society views them as terrifying, disfigured oddities.

Trashed by critics and film audiences during it's initial theatrical run, even receiving a ban from the British film censors for over 30 years for disturbing content (one woman threatened to sue MGM over her miscarriage), Freaks proved to uphold the feelings that mainstream culture placed on sideshow performers, even resulting in the beginning of the end to Browning's career as a director. But Freaks has received considerable recognition over the years, gaining notoriety as a midnight movie in the 1960's and 1970's, selection into the National Film Registry in 1994, and along with AMC's current Freakshow, proves that America's curiosity with the sideshow is still strong, but for what reasons?

After watching Freaks, one is let to wonder who the real monsters are: the "freaks" or the "normals?" The carnival barker at the beginning of the film says, "You laugh at them. Shutter them. And yet but for the accident of birth, you might even be as they are."

On Route 66 to Nowhere

Happy Birthday goes out to singer-songwriter and guitarist James Taylor who turns 65 today. Taylor has been pleasing audiences with his soft, mellow compositions and gentle voice for over 40 years, but it's his detour from performing music that we're more interested in today.

Just after recording his second and most popular album Sweet Baby James in 1970, Taylor starred in Monte Hellman's Two-Lane Blacktop, a existential drama of a pre-highway America, characterized by minimal dialogue and exceptional landscape shooting of the expanse American west.

The story of Two-Lane Blacktop is fairly simple, just as sparse as the dialogue in the film, the plot follows two characters known as The Driver and The Mechanic (played by Taylor and Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson respectively), as they challenge an aging, head in the clouds wanderer referred to as GTO (Warren Oates) on a cross-country race for pink slips. Simple, right?                                                                                             

What Two-Lane Blacktop lacks in narrative it more than makes up for in style and emotion, focusing more on themes pertinent to the time the film was produced. The film represents an America that has vanished, left in the dust long ago by the souped-up vehicles the characters drive in the film. It's a time of the old Route 66, of cheap gas, when hitchhiking was what kids did to get where they were going, when money was called bread, and when a 454 was your car's engine long before restrictions placed a ban on them.

The American cinema of the 70's has been referred to as a cinema of loneliness, characterized by a generation lost within an vast American wasteland, facing the realities of the Vietnam War and the perils of finding a way to move on. Two-Lane Blacktop presents this theme leftover from the counterculture of the 1960's, already brought to the forefront with films such as The Graduate (1967) and Easy Rider (1969). The Driver and The Mechanic are gear heads, nothing matters more to them then cars and racing. Even when a young vagabond referred to as The Girl, played by Laurie Bird, shows up in the backseat of their car, the two men shrug it off, talk about fixing valves, filling up, and driving to the next race, the next competition, because there's always competition.

Muscle Cars Are Not for Playboys

And the boys get that competition when a bright orange 1970 GTO roars up behind them, a middle-aged playboy wearing a sweater vest and driving gloves explodes past their '55 Chevy, a scent of lounge music left lingering in the air.

GTO is the most interesting character in the film, and, in fact, is the only character the audience knows anything about, well, sort of. Where The Driver is an introvert and the only quality we know about him is his special knowledge of cars, GTO is an man aching to be something he's not. An extrovert of the highest order, GTO picks up hitchhikers along his travels, each ride the chance to tell a different story, a different life.

 When The Driver and The Mechanic meet GTO, a race from California to Washington D.C. is devised; the reward: their car's pink slip. Two-Lane Blacktop is the one of the great road movies, a sub-genre that is quintessentially American. In this film, while kids in the 60's were making their way out west, our characters are headed east, away from the ideals everyone else was trying to attain.

Taylor gives his famous empty stare as The Driver

By the time production on the film started in 1970, James Taylor was already a well known name. His single "Fire and Rain" quickly rose up the Billboard charts earlier in the year, and his role in Two-Lane Blacktop is just as mellow and arresting as the melodies in his music. Director Monte Hellman first saw Taylor's face on a billboard in Los Angeles and was struck by the look of the singer's face and immediately wanted to meet with him for the role. Taylor brings a special quality to the role of the driver - a  subdued, reserved quality that doesn't come off as if he's hiding something from the audience, but something more along the lines that the character is unaware how to express certain emotions. This could be from the fact that Taylor is not a trained actor (Two-Lane was his only acting role), but watching Taylor's audition footage, it's clear that the singer is of the reserved, shy type. It's interesting to note that Taylor is playing a role that is part of a generation that would listen to his music, and the shiftless, ennui of the counterculture youth is captured perfectly by Taylor, himself only twenty-two years old.

There is plenty of racing throughout the film. The characters collect winnings from various illegal street races to aid in their travels east, but at a certain point, the viewer becomes aware that there is no race to D.C. - in fact, there never was one. Throughout the film the three main characters mingle with one another, staying on each other's exhaust pipes, never letting one out of the other's sights. The Girl switches cars throughout the trip, forced to listen to each characters denied hopes and dreams. They even trade cars and The Mechanic trades tips on how to keep GTO's engine running more smoothly. When The Driver passes GTO, he backtracks five miles to meet up again.

The Girl ditches the men and hitches back west. The only character the audience thinks is lonely and is yearning for something in her life - The Girl - who wants to get back to San Francisco to rejoin a life she is unsure is still waiting for her, becomes fed up with the aimless future of the other characters and splits. The Driver invites GTO to join him in Columbus, Ohio to participate in a race, just another sideline to keep them from D.C., but GTO declines and continues east.

Their actions are further evidence of the characters inability to connect with what is going on around them, an almost deliberate move to ignore their problems and a way to stifle any progress; It's no coincidence the characters are only known by their simple descriptions. The characters are lonely, and their solitude, inside the steel coffins of their cars on the open road, is where they choose to fester.



The Harder They Come (1972)

If you weren't into the big game this year, than maybe you were one of the many waiting for the real entertainment of Super Bowl Sunday - the commercials.

This year's batch featured fewer awe-inspiring 30-second clips of entertainment than past Super Bowls, but the one ad that received the most attention was Volkswagen's "Get Happy" spot.

Premiering a few weeks before the big game, the ad features a white man from Minnesota at his office job talking amongst dour co-workers telling them to be happy, accompanied with a faux-Jamaican accent.

What makes the commercial so catchy is the song played in the spot.  The song is a rendition of the Partridge Family theme song "C'mon Get Happy" sung by Jimmy Cliff. For anyone wondering who Jimmy Cliff is and what he has to do with cult film, continue reading.

Cliff is Jamaica's premiere reggae singer, even more popular in is native country than Bob Marley (not anywhere near as successful in America, but nonetheless just as influential), but what Cliff has that Marley doesn't is an acting credit. And this isn't just any acting role - it's the lead role in one of the most important cult films and most important Jamaican films in history: The Harder They Come.





Original Theatrical Poster

 Cliff plays Ivanhoe Martin,  a young man who abandons the countryside of Jamaica to make a name for himself in the big city. Ivan leaves behind a life of rural simplicity, coming to Kingston with what little money he has and dreams of making a hit record.

The movie opens with a song sung by Cliff, "You Can Get It If You Really Want It," the perfect song choice as the credits roll over images of a bus traversing the tight dirt roads of the Jamaican country until they reach the sprawling, crowded asphalt of Kingston.

Ivan learns early on that making it in the big city is harder than he imagines, as he meets a young man who tells him, "If you have money, you can go anywhere you want. But, if you don't have money, you're fucked." Ivan's luggage is promptly stolen by this man, and the last of his funds is given to his mother who needs it more than he does.

With no money in his pocket and no place to rest his bones, Ivan is left to wonder the slums of Jamaica, passing through dilapidated shanty towns and bountiful landfills looking for work, even getting a knife drawn on him when simply looking at fruit at a produce stand.

Ivan gets a job repairing various items in a preacher's shed, which also requires him to take part singing in the church's choir. Ivan catches the eye of a girl in the church who just so happens to be under possession of the preacher. This causes tension between the preacher and Ivan, which results in him losing his job.

So what does a young man with aspirations of big dreams do? Why, cut a record of course. What else would you do when you're down on your luck and need fast cash?

Ivan stops by the recording studio of Mr. Hilton, a man who has a knack for producing hit records in Jamaica. Hilton offers Ivan $20 for the song, but feeling insulted, Ivan believes the song is worth more, so he takes his material to local DJs. While shopping the song around, Ivan learns that Hilton has a monopoly on the music industry in Jamaica, so Ivan is forced to sell his song for cheap.

At the song's release party Ivan is introduced to a Jose, who informs him making money off the Hilton label is impossible and if he wants to make big money, he has the job for him: the ganja trade.

This is where the movie takes a turn. Ivan begins selling marijuana and bringing in money, but when he learns that he only earns a cut of the profits, Ivan views the ganja trade as the same exploitive industry as the music business. Ivan wants more money and buys a gun.

Proving a headache for Jose he has Ivan set-up. The police go looking for Ivan which results in the murder of three cops and a countrywide manhunt ensues, all the while Ivan's record climbs up the record charts. Ivan's character was inspired by Rhyging, a Jamaican outlaw from the 1950's who was aided by locals in eluding escape.

The movie is rife with illusions to the myth of success, much more attuned to that of the American myth where money and fame is the elite status. During the opening minutes of he film, entering Kingston a billboard is shown that reads "Talk With Philip White for A Better Life," which eludes to the entire meaning of the film: a better life.

The film shows the economic and class struggles wrestling within Jamaica society, drawing a line between the poor in the city and the rich in the outskirts of town. Ivan goes looking for work in the outskirts of town, stopping by a white mansion with a perfect manicured landscape and an open gate. A woman tells him that she has no need for him and to close the gate behind him. Ivan cannot even get a job working construction in that he has little to no work experience. The world which Ivan thought was a opportunity for escape, can't even offer him a lousy backbreaking job. So while trying to get into a music career in a city that seems to be full of hopeful musicians, the system forces Ivan into a life of crime.

Ivan's tale is one of fame and fortune that comes sudden and ends just as quickly. It's Get Rich or Die Tryin' years before 50 Cent was a terrible rapper or a media mogul. Ivan lives the dream of coming from nothing, to a music superstar and, eventually, to that of his country's most infamous outlaw. It's the stuff dreams are made of folks. This is the reason The Harder They Come was a massive hit in Jamaica. Thousands of Jamaicans poured into theaters to see the film, not only because it was the country's first film, but because the subject matter resonated closely with how Jamaicans felt in tough economic times.

The clip above does little to strengthen the tourism board's request to discover Jamaica which was in decline during the early 70's, but the scene shows the measures desperate men will go through for their property when they have little left except their pride - and the consequences they're willing to accept.



Motion Picture Soundtrack

The story in America is a little different.

Received poorly during it's initial theatrical run, the film saw new life in the midnight movie circuit once picked up by Roger Corman's New World Pictures. Audiences were  entranced by the subversive, rollicking rhythms of this strange new music coming out of this strange country. In fact, The Harder They Come is credited with the birth of reggae music in America - the soundtrack becoming a mega hit - and the international success even led to Island Records founder Chris Blackwell, who mixed the film's soundtrack, to secure an unknown Bob Marley to his new label.

While The Harder They Come presents an authentic and gritty image of the slums and squalor of Jamaican life, it also presents an accurate example of the fine music coming from the little island nation. The film, and the soundtrack, offer some of the biggest acts in reggae at the time, showing extended scenes of Cliff and one of his contemporaries, Toots and the Maytals, performing in studio, offering an invaluable record of important Jamaican groups immersed in their work.