As a director, Penelope Spheeris is as versatile as they come. Her Decline of Western Civilization trilogy documented the LA punk scene of the late seventies/early eighties, the colorful and decadent metal years of the late eighties and the lifestyles of hardcore gutter punks in the 1990’s.
As influential as her documentaries would become for a generation of musicians and filmmakers, Spheeris has also left an indelible impact in the world of comedy, having directed a string of classics, including Wayne’s World, The Little Rascals, The Beverly Hillbillies and Black Sheep.
A filmmaker in own right, Spheeris’ daughter Anna Fox, is responsible for convincing her mother to release the long sought-after Decline trilogy on home video.
I was fortunate enough to sit down with both of these incredibly funny and cool ladies at the historic Texas Theater in Oak Cliff, just before a screening of The Decline of Western Civilization II: The Metal Years. Here’s what I got.
Highlander (1986) is an epic tale about love, loss and the price of immortality, injected with just the right amount of 80’s, testosterone-fueled, badassery.
Christopher Lambert (Raiden in Mortal Kombat, Tarzan in Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes) is Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, a 500-year-old Scotsman living in present day New York City (circa 1985.) One of the very last of a clandestine race of immortals, the ageless Highlander must compete to to the death with others of his kind until he’s the last man standing.
Because in the end… there can be only one.
That’s honestly the simplest summary I can come up with for one of the most unique, genre-bending fantasy films ever made.
Directed and edited in a uniquely energetic, over the top style by music video veteran Russell Mulcahy, and featuring an iconic soundtrack by Queen, Highlander is a film that seemed to have everything going for it. However, the finished film was butchered by the North American distributor and bombed at the US box office, leaving it to languish in obscurity until it could build a sizable cult following on VHS.
Thankfully, the uncut original was a modest success overseas, making enough of a profit to spawn several sequels (of varying quality) and a popular television series lasting six seasons.
In this first part of a two-part special, writer and filmmaker Joey Monroy returns to Backseat Filmmaker to discuss the original film with me. Because once again, there can be only one (until the next episode where we discuss the sequels.)
John Ottman is a true Rennaisance Man. Producer. Director. Editor. And, easily, one of the most versatile and talented composers working in film today.
In my book, his sweeping scores are just as moving and memorable as anything by Elmer Bernstein, Jerry Goldsmith, or John Williams.
Along with his frequent collaborator, director Bryan Singer, John has played an integral part in the creation of several modern classics, having scored and edited such films as The Usual Suspects, Valkyrie, Superman Returns and most recently, X-Men: Days of Future Past.
If you don’t know John Ottman’s name, you’ve certainly seen and heard his work.
John was generous enough to sit down with me to talk about his life and career, and having been a fan of his since I was twelve years old, I apologize to you all if my fangirling is super obvious.
We’re getting straight-up sacrilegious on this week’s episode of Backseat Filmmaker; Joey Monroy and Connor Quade join forces with me to compare the works of two of cinema’s greatest artists.
The Easter holiday means many things to many different people.
Chocolate rabbits, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and cascarones, those hollow egg shells, filled with confetti, that Mexican kids use to break on each other’s heads.
But for me, Easter is a celebration of one of my favorite film genres: The Biblical Epic.
In 1927, Hollywood titan Cecil B. DeMille directed The King of Kings, a larger than life, sprawling spectacle which presented a very reverent, if traditional, take on the life of Jesus of Nazareth.
Decades later, Martin Scorsese offered moviegoers a much more polarizing look at Jesus’ mission in 1988’s The Last Temptation of Christ. The film was immediately condemned by religious audiences and caused rioting and protesting across the world.
While Jesus has been the basis for many films made in between, and since, today’s episode will examine why DeMille and Scorsese’s versions are the ones to top.
In 1932, the American Horror Film came into its own as a viable genre. Dracula and Frankenstein had blown the doors off the industry the year before, making overnight stars of Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, and paving the way for a variety of imitators. Paramount responded with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (starring Fredric March in the roles that would land him an Oscar,) and the similarly literate Island of Lost Souls, which cast Charles Laughton as H.G. Wells’ overly ambitious Dr. Moreau.
Not to be outdone, MGM turned to their silent master of the macabre, Tod Browning, hot of the success of Dracula, to put his carnival background to use. Freaks was an unmitigated disaster and was met with as much disgust from its audiences as the studio that wrought it.
But Freaks wasn’t MGM’s only contribution to the genre that year.
Director William J. Cowen’s Kongo stars future Academy Award-winner, Walter Huston (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,) as Dead Legs Flint, a cruel paraplegic living deep in the African jungle. He attains great power among the natives by performing magic tricks and pretending to be a god. Eighteen years earlier, Flint was crippled by his wife’s lover (C. Henry Gordon) and has spent everyday, since, plotting an elaborate revenge.
Released just before the production code would cast a damp towel on Hollywood, Kongo features some particularly grim scenes, and even more politically-incorrect dialogue.
Originally a play on Broadway starring Huston himself, Kongo was previously adapted as a silent film called West of Zanzibar. This version starred Man of a Thousand Faces, Lon Chaney and was directed by none other than Chaney’s longtime collaborator, Tod Browning. Everything’s relative.
In this episode of Backseat Filmmaker, I have the pleasure of discussing both versions of the story with film historian and writer, Michael H. Price. Price is the author of such works as Human Monsters: The Bizarre Psychology of Movie Villains (with George E. Turner,) and the Forgotten Horrors series, which has just seen the release of its seventh installment, Famished Monsters of Filmland.
Some epics are released and receive the immediate admiration and laurels they deserve. Ben-Hur. Lawrence of Arabia. Amadeus. Even the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
Then you have those masterpieces so ahead of their time, they’re shredded by the critics of their day, and fail to find their proper footing. The Night of the Hunter (1955) director Charles Laughton was so disheartened by the reaction to his first directorial work, he never got behind a camera again. The film is now considered one of the all-time essential thrillers.
Revolution (1985) was British director Hugh Hudson’s third feature film after the Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire (1981), and the well-received Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes (1984). Hot off his iconic turn as Tony Montana, Al Pacino was cast as the everyman hero of this Revolutionary War story, while art house-darling Natassja Kinski was given the female lead.
Revolution was destined for success… until the Universe decided to take a sharp left turn. The expensive, $28,000,000 film was pulled away from the filmmakers months before completion and rushed into theaters, resulting in a mammoth bomb (it grossed about $350,000, domestically.)
Is Revolution an essential cult classic? Or does it live up to its soiled reputation? Check out my in-depth, 30 Years Later conversation with writer and real filmmaker, Joey Monroy on this week’s Backseat Filmmaker.
First off, thanks for checking out the new blog! If you love movies and art, I hope you enjoy your stay.
To kick things off, I bring you the inaugural episode of my new web series, Backseat Filmmaker. We let the real filmmakers do all the driving while we sit in the back and bitch about it.
The goal of Backseat Filmmaker is to shine new light on lesser known, or under-appreciated, cinema (but really just an excuse to sit around with my friends and bitch about movies.)
Hannibal Begins: Mining the Mind of Michael Mann’s Manhunter
He’s a charming conversationalist. Brilliant student of human nature. Recreational chef and artist. Sophisticated man-about-the-world. And he has his own show on NBC. What’s not to love about retired psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter?
The fact that he enjoys eating people’s faces every once in awhile only gives him that extra pinch of flavor (especially since he always knows the right wine to pair them with.)
But long before Mads Mikkelsen and Anthony Hopkins ate their way into the hearts of audiences everywhere, Brian Cox (X2, Rise of the Planet of the Apes) was the first to embody Hannibal on the big screen.
Adapted from Thomas Harris’ novel Red Dragon, Manhunter (1986) features Dr. Lecter (or Lecktor, as it is spelled here) in little more than a supporting role to move the plot forward. The movie’s real focus is retired FBI agent, Will Graham, who’s pulled back into the fold when a serial killer, dubbed The Tooth Fairy, butchers two families and is expected to strike again. The film delves deeply into the duality of these characters and the two types of masculinity they represent.
While some may expect to see Manhunter as something of a dress rehearsal for the Academy Award-winning Silence of the Lambs, four years later, writer/director Michael Mann crafts a stylish thriller that is hypnotic and mesmerizing enough to stand on it’s own.
Join me and Mann-afficianado, Connor Quade, as we play the part of FBI agent Will Graham, and try to get into the head of this pastel-paletted masterpiece.
Big John Creations 