Metal Gods From Plutonia

Metal Gods From Plutonia

CREEMEDIA

HEAVY METAL

(Columbia Pictures)

Directed by Gerald Potterton

by

Toby Goldstein

Gerald Potterton, director of the National Lampoons big-budget animated production. Heavy Metal, considered the peculiar personality change which overtook several of his films illustrators. Guys who were used to drawing bunny rabbits really liked killing thirtgs and drawing naked women," he stated with a degree of astonishment.

Potterton and several of the other principals behind Heavy Metal were meeting with groups of national press for a chat the day after wed seen the films premiere. It had been a lavish introduction, complete with a party at New Yorks Guggen heim Museum that included a surprise performance by Cheap Trick, one of the films musical contributors. In fact. Cheap Trick seem to have established a second career for themselves in providing movie music, adding Heavy Metal to a list which includes Roadie and a minor sleaze classic called Over The Edge.

Unfortunately, Cheap Tricks distinctive vocal/guitar mix was one of very few well-planned instances of rock music in the Heavy Metal film. I found it unbelievable that a film soundtrack which numbers Blue Oyster Cult, Devo, Journey and Black Sabbath among its participants could have servediits artists so badly.

On the visual level in its use of Elmer Bernsteins scored music, Heavy Metal is an engaging romp through episodes which are alternately cynical, terrifying, hilarious and, as the producers would haveit, ultimately inspirational—Star Wars with sex and violence. However, most of the heavy metal" music is abruptly pressed into the action in jarring snippets, at such ear-shattering volume that its impossible to determine if youve been listeningto Grand Funk Railroad or Sammy Hagar before the plot progressed to a completely different state of mind. Only a sequence of Devo-ish characters performing a new Devo song in an outer-space bar—a scene that was actually written to the music— maintains the unity of eye and ear. 1 still havent figured Qut the purpose of including a Stevie Nicks segment—unless its that old devil capitalism at work to spoil the fun.

Its easier and less bitchy to consider Heavy Metal as the latest successful attempt to utilize animation for more than two-dimensional cartoons. With an attitude foundation from the challenging Heavy Metal magazine, an illustrated journal vyhose stories exhibit a surrealist world-view, Heavy Metal explores the age old battle of good versus evil in seven vignettes, linked by the device of a glowing green orb (its bad). In these alternate universes, says the film, possession of the orb affects each of its handlers uniquely.

Id venture that a favorite of anyone who ever got rejected for a date will be the Den" segment, a good-hearted portrayal of how a quintessential high-school schlub gets to score with not one, but two sexy babes. For urbanites like me, the Harry Canyon" episode gets top marks, its hero a wisecracking cabbie who belongs in the hackies hall of fame along with Travis Bickle and the old-timer in Escape From New York. For the bloodnguts brigade, vast numbers of evil-doers and poor suckers are terminated, their multi-hued blood streams sloshing all over the screen.

Heavy Metal is an intricately crafted festival of strange encounters. Its often believable as its own reality, consistently involving, and, if its rocknroll strategy had been equally skillfull, could be unreservedly termed an animation masterpiece. I

Delete I Two Pigs

MOVIE FACTS AND FEATS—

A GUINNESS RECORD BOOK

by Patrick Robinson

(Sterling)

Did you know that there has been only one straight dramatic film in which both hero and heroine have been played by the same performer? Its true! The film was Lanka Dahan aka The Burning Of Lanka, an Indian (as in India) film made in 1918 and the reason for the dual roleplaying was that no women were permitted to appear in Indian films in those days. How about that? Unmoved? Try this one... the smallest cinema in the USA was the Silver Star Theater in Silver Star, Montana, which had a seating capacity of 26 in 1925." Imagine that! It was so small you had to go out to the lobby just to change your mind! Get it? Ho, ho. OK, alright, its a pretty dull fact.. .but wait a minute, Ill find something intersting... dum de dum... heres one—the earliest pornographic film is A Free Ride aka A Glass Sandwich (US 15). Even rnore precocious were the French, who made the earliest pornographic film in 1908. Which goes to show that every nasty little thing you ever thought about the French is probably true.

This vastly entertaining, probably worthless book, published by the people who brought you Motoring Facts And Feats, Tank Facts And Feats and English Furniture 1760-1900, tempts one to revive the old cliche about potatb chips— as well as the more recent cliches about Americans love of trivial but precise information in the face of the complex realities arising out of crumbling effectiveness of the social/political hierarchies. But more on that later. First, some more facts.

The strangest ad-line for a movie appeared in a Shanghai newspaper in 1921 — hyping the first Chinese feature film, it assured prospective patrons that the acting stars all enjoyed a superior education." Ad hype has often yielded dadaistic . poetry, as in the case of Cecil B. De Milles King Of Kings (27) — Dramatic Magnificence, Spectacular Splendor, Riotous Joy, Tigerish Rage, Undying Love, Terrifying Tempest, Appalling Earthquakes"—aw, right! A more subtle ridiculousness was delineated in the ad for The Egyptian (US 54) —10,965 pyramids, 5,337 dancing girls, one million swaying bullrushes, 802 sacred bulls." 802! Whatta hip number—if only this kind of imaginative thinking had gone into the films script.

The longest film ever made was the underground movie entitled The Longest Most Meaningless Movie In The World (GB 70) . which ran 48 hours. So relax, its already beendope. Blunders are always fun. Heres a random handful—In Cry Terror (US 58), the car driven by Rod Steiger and the car carrying the FBI both have the same license plate number." Fact! Jackie Cooper tore open a sealed envelope in Buttons (US 28), read the letter, then put it back in the envelope and stuck the flap down (emphasis Robinsons). " Fact! In The Barbarian And The Geisha(US 58), John Wayne absentmindedly addressed Sam Jaffe, playing a character called Heuken, as Sam instead of Henry." Fuck!

The history of censorship offers a few dozen stunning absurdities, my favorite being this one—When the script of Zasa (US 39) was returned from the Hays Office (the movies self-censorship board), a line in which the heroine screams at the villain ˜Pig! Pig! Pig! Pig! Pig! had noted in the margin against it:

˜Delete two pigs."

Trivial, but precise. You may not. be sure what you feel or why, but theres no reason to doubt what you know, i.e., the/acts. Talking Heads notwithstanding, facts are your friends—facts are fun! Immutable . and unambiguous, theyre there when you need them, unthreatening, unreproving...

Did you know that the most generously proportioned leading lady of all time was Doris Wishman, the possessor of a 73-inch bust, who directed, wrote and starred in Deadly Weapons(US 75). under the sobriquet'Chesty Morgan?"

No fooling?

Richard C. Walls

Non-Portable Indefinite Reference Book

WHOS WHO OF THE HORRORS AND OTHER FANTASY FILMS:

The International Encyclopedia Of The Fantastic Film by David J. Hogan (Barnes)

Ah yes, just what we need now, another movie reference book, especially an over-priced coffeetable-sized one with a cheesy cover and big white spaces between the entries. Bet youre dying to buy this one, right? Well, maybe you are— once youve gotten hooked on this sort of thing youre often willing to overlook such things as sloppy production values and rip-off prices...

Hogan has modeled his book after the famous Halliwells Film Companion (not to be confused with Halliwells Film Guide or any of the other Halliwell epics). Halliwells book is a mammoth and fairly comprehensive listing of the filmographies of actors, screenwriters, composers, cinematographers and the like, sprinkled with mini-essays on such popular movie themes as the cold war, forest fires, Eskimos... Hogan copies this format, minus the miniessays, and its difficult to describe the attraction of this sort of thing to anyone who doesnt naturally gravitate'toward it. On the one hand, books of this nature have something of the same appeal as pornography, both soft and hardcore, being potentially an end in itself (for shame!) but more often an interesting ersatz experience, teasing the senses and stroking your desire for the real thing—its impossible to peruse these lists for long without being overcome by the desire to see an actual movie. On the other hand the orderly nature of these types of books gives the partaker the illusion of somehow dealing effectively uTith The Grand Boggle Of Unbridled Reality. Frinstance, in this case, itsnotjust that the index in the back gives one little rushes of remembered pleasure — The Brain Eaters], The Colossus Of New York!, Curse Of The Demon!—til, reeling, you grab the TV Guide looking for a fix.. .nooo, the gratifying thing here is that the movies in the index are listed in chronological order, giving an esthetically pleasing appearance of structure to what would otherwise be an overwhelming (uncontrollable) mass of data (one could postulate that the type of people who are most likely to lock themselves in the bathroom with The Book Of Lists are emotional fascists hungry for a little more control—but since Im one of that type myself, I prefer another approach, which is to say that the appeal of lists/f ilmographies is related to the everyday existential urge to make sense out of the chaotic fragments one constantly confronts—a pursuit of dubious value, as is making jive parenthetical asides in an effort to justify your obsessions.).

Getting back to the critical pretense, the book has a few little faults. Its somewhat skimpy, which is forgivable in a landmark work such as this (cough). More bothersome is the fact that although Hogan professes to love the genre, hes an uneasy lover who wants to convince you that the object of his affection is respectable. To this end he wastes a lot of space listing legitimate" movie stars like Bogart and Burt Lancaster whose associations with fantastic films are really little more than curious footnotes for non-fans. Its a patronizing inclusion, like an apologist for fast foods pointing out that Grace Kelly once ate at McDonalds—not necessarily, pal. If someones involvement with the genre has become so intense that theyre willing to fork over fifteen bucks for the pleasure of browsing thru a thousand or so electic filmographies, the least the book could do is stick to the subject and not make irritating gestures of appeasement to mainstream movie fandom. The least.

Aside from that, its a fun book, skimpy and overpriced, but fun with lots of swell pictures and what were for me some interesting revelations— like that Ray Dennis Steckler and Cash Flagg, respectively the director and star of The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living And Became Mixed-Up Zombies (63), are actually the same person, that Tor Johnson was in Canterville Ghost (44), and the Vampiras real name was Maila Nurmi, a onetime dancer and former protege of Howard Hawks." (Maila Nurmi? Didnt she write Advertisements For My Elf?) Lotsa fascinating little facts like that to be gleaned here and maybe next edition Hoganll tighten it up—drop the irrelevant big names and add some more character actors, keep the pictures but publish it as a low-priced paperback—a trade paperback would suffice as long as its small enough that you could read it in the bathtub without getting it wet, or on the bus without having to lay half of it on somebodys lap. Somebody that might, you know, not share your interest...

Richard C. Walls

Have A Nice Day

by Richard C. Walls

From Uncle Rickys Mailbag:

Dear Dr. Prime Time,

Enough! Enough with the Canadian andTom Snyder jokes already—that stuffs tired and you oughta be ashamed. How about some of them tedious personal confessions instead? We out here in the sticks miss the sort of Pirandellian cow doo that useta form the subtext of your somewhat ironic column. Lets see some more!,

Sincerely,

Marty and Mary McManus Ox Scrotum, Iowa

Dear M&M,

And so you shall.

Dr.P.T.

Plexeril is a muscle relaxant, a little pentagon-shaped number that your doctor might give you if you have trouble with yourback, which I do. (I should have seen this coming^a bad back, a liver bloated with scar tissue, the skin tone and reflexes of a malarial spastic. Its the price one pays for being in the vanguard of a past-indulgence culture of decaying old farts—exidealists with lingering diseases lounging terminally and listening to Too Fucked To Drink" by the Dead Pilbeams). Unlike pain killers, muscle relaxants are not sure things. They often dont seem to work, and more often give you those most mundane of drug side effects, ultra-dry mouth and the inability to concentrate.

To wit: on the first day of my convalescence I was reading The French Lieutenants Woman, watching old movies on TV and sipping iced tea. By the second day the plexeril had kicked in and I was chain-drinking cokes. The old movies seemed too convoluted to follow and my book became too incredibly, densely textured to understand. I found, however, that Donahue had virtues I have never previously noticed, specifically that no single thought is pursued too long, no line of inquiry carried too far—which allowed me to watch happily. I also found that I could, with relative ease, make it through a copy of Record Review. By the third day I was totally under the influence and spent most of my time sucking on trays of ice cubes and thumbing thru old copies of Famous Monsters —and it was this low level of consciousness, de-tumescent (as it were) and healing, that I began to watch The Price Is Right.

☆ ☆ ☆ ■

On The Other Hand:

Dear Dick Balls,

Your stupid column makes me wanna puke. All that horseshit about old movies and shows nobody cares about. And you always manage to get your dorky self in there—whatta jerk! 1 bet you work with a mirror in front of your typewriter. Fuck You!

Jo^Mamma II

Bivalve, New Jersey

Dear Joe,

You might have a point there.

Ill think about it. Meanwhile, do you mind if I get on With this?

Dorky

☆ ☆ ☆

Several things impressed me about The Price Is Right (so much so that I watch faithfully every weekday now even tho the plexeril is only a murky memory). First of all, about 90% of the contestants are normal (surely this doesnt represent the national percentage?) or at least seem so. Altho recognizable types, none of them seem to represent any specific current reality, all responding to host Bob Barkers questions with happy smiles and innocuous answers (Scenes Wed Like To See: Barker: And What Do You Do For A Living?" Contestant: Nothing Bob, Im unemployed— and my food stamps have just been cut in order to give Big Oil a tax break, and dammit I want a shot at that new car—I gotta have.that new car, motherfucker, so I can sell it"— the guy wins a bowling ball..

Or this response: I make porno flicks, Bob. Just finished one called Incestuous Donkeys.") But thats not a complaint. Its partially this high concentration of normality that gives the show its charm (once they had a woman on who was so awash with anxiety that she couldnt take her hand away from her mouth—it kept fluttering beneath her fearstricken eyes as tho it were beating back the screams. But thats an exception and it only emphasized how willingly, cheerfully everyone else enters into the spirit of the game). Then theres Barkers Beauties, the three Amazonian tootsies who caress the proffered prizes—such ample arms, such sturdy cheekbones—theres nothing anoerotic about these babes. After watching them stretch their milkfed bodies across a big brass bed (a frequent prize) or sensually open a cornucopic refrigerator, could anyone doubt that we are living in prosperous times?

Finally theres Bob Barker himself, graciously guiding the hopefuls thru their Pilgrims Progress from lowly Contestants Row (this Steinbeckian appellation is given to the starting point where four contestants try to guess the price of a not insignificant prize, the closest guess allowing them to go on the greater things—the structure of the show is of a neat complexity that nothing short of a graph or another longish boring paragraph could do justice to) to the penultimate Showcase Showdown (everything on the show has a special name adding to the aura of it being a self-contained universe). I used to despise Barker back in the 60s when he hosted Truth Or Consequences. I perceived him then as the ultimate plastic—and I write that word with a shiver of embarrassment, few things having dated as rancidly as the smug passwords of the 60s—prize pusher. But today, older and sicker,

I can appreciate his tonic gifts. The main thing is that nothing phases him—even the panicky lady mentioned above seemed less a tragedy under Barkers friendly gaze. And thats a handy trait when dealing with those contestants who seem a little less than bright (and there are so many of them! Could there be a connection between this and their cheerful normalness? Dare one think it?)

Its such a sweet show...

☆ ☆ ☆ ˜

Believe It Or Spit:

Dear Richard,

What is reality? Not to heavy up on you from the get-go but it occured to me when I, uh... remember that guy who used to play generals in those 50s SF movies? I think he, uh.. .Oh well,

I just wanted to write to tell you how much I enjoyed your column. Keep up the good work. Mark Downing Scenic Thighs,

California

Dear Mark,

Thanks, but Im afraid that the premise has run its course. Future columns, if any, will probably be , about radio. Unless the bosses at CREEM are willing to underwrite a subscription to cable TV... hmmm...anyway, keep in touch.

Richard ^