MEDIA COOL
OK, I’ve heard that this is simply silly “just say no”-ism. And I’ve heard it was supposedly one of those Hollywood disasters that was taken away from the director, etc. But I thought Bret Easton Ellis’s novel was one of the most overrated novels in the history of the printed word, how ever readable it might have been—and this at least managed to hold my interest.
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MEDIA COOL
This month’s Media Cools were written by Bill Holdship, J. Kordosh, Karen Schoemer and Vicki Arkoff.
LESS THAN ZERO (20th Century Fox)
OK, I’ve heard that this is simply silly “just say no”-ism. And I’ve heard it was supposedly one of those Hollywood disasters that was taken away from the director, etc. But I thought Bret Easton Ellis’s novel was one of the most overrated novels in the history of the printed word, how ever readable it might have been—and this at least managed to hold my interest. It may not be the Beverly Hills version of River’s Edge that some were hoping for, but it’s more uplifting than the book. And if it stops some kid somewhere from abusing cocaine, then it’s worth it. Of course, no one really has a cocaine problem. They all can handle it. B.H.
TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS: THE BEATLES’ LAST CONCERT by Eric Lefcowitz (Terra Firma Press)
This is kinda neat: a hundred-page recap of the Beatles’ last-ever appearance onstage (August 29, 1966 at San Francisco’s Candlestick Park). Augmenting the written stuff (a reprint of Ralph Gleason’s review from the San Francisco Chronicle, interviews with the emcee and a guy from the opening act, among other weird trivia) are some sensational photos taken by Jim Marshall. Fun fact to know and tell: the last three songs the Beatles ever played in concert were “Nowhere Man,” “Paperback Writer" and “Long Tall Sally,” although "one of the Beatles (most likely Lennon) mischievously strummed the opening guitar figure of ‘In My Life’ ” just as they left the stage. J.K.
ARENA BRAINS (Pressure Pictures)
This 30-minute film—which debuted at the New York Film Festival in September—is a racy, multi-textured montage of brittle vignettes with themes that include greed, ambition, destitution, art, puking and the inspired rudeness of delicatessen employees. Arena Brains uses a strictly New York vocabulary to document the visions of The Watcher (played by R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, who thrashes, gazes and mumbles with stunning alacrity) against a soundtrack of abrasive powerchords, courtesy of Husker Du, PiL, the Golden Palominos and others. Director Robert Longo (whose previous projects include R.E.M.’s “The One I Love” video and the sleeve graphics for the Replacements’ Tim LP) is able to partially ward off the impending pretentiousness of this anti-epic by applying a torturing irony to his characters, even as he revels in the techniques and attitudes they endlessly spout. With Sean Young (No Way Out), Ray Liotta and Eric Bogosian. K.S.
PLANES. TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES (Paramount)
The main problem with director John Hughes’s past “teen” flicks is that he crosses absurdity with reality—but his casts have never been strong enough to really pull it off. Planes, Trains And Automobiles, on the other hand, gives us two heavyweights (no pun intended)—and putting them together was a stroke of genius. Steve Martin should’ve gotten an Oscar nomination for at least one of his roles by now. He’s a great actor—and everyone knows that comedy is serious business. And this is John Candy’s best film role ever, one he was born to play, since we’re resorting to cliches here. Basically, this is simply the story of a “plane trip in hell," with one hilarious situation after another. It starts to drag just a tad by the end, relying on cheap sentiment (and I’m usually a sucker for cheap sentiment). But, overall, this is a very, very funny film. B.H.
SEE HEAR (New York City store)
The sign in the window reads “Everything But Records,” but even that can’t sum up the fun involved in a visit to N.Y.C.’s See Hear, perhaps the only store in the universe devoted to fanzines, and a wonderland for rock ’n’ roll obsessives. See Hear is stocked with a myriad of mags, from dinosaurs Rolling Stone and NME to the most skeeto, xeroxed punk ’zines. On the opposite wall, there’s a juicy selection of rare, seminal and out-of-print genre books, biographies and encyclopedias (don’t miss Alan Betrock’s / Was A Teen-Age Juvenile Delinquent Rock ’n’ Roll Horror Beach Party Movie Book), not to mention reggae, blues & jazz periodicals, reams of comix, back issue cheapie bins, postcards, tapes, videocassettes (from bands you’d swear never made videocassettes), garb (Blind Lemon Jefferson or “F— the World, Feed Lydia Lunch” T-shirts), and just plain novelty items. My pick is Clambake Press’s “Ahunka Elvis,” a nifty 2-inch square doodad that comes complete with a li’i pill pak. There’s even See Hear’s own Slambook, which asks Chuck Eddy, Big Black’s Steve Albini, SST’s Ray Farrell and other media bulwarks probing questions like: “What do you think about Satan?” (Send $1 for a catalog to See Hear, 59 East 7th St., New York, NY 10003). K.S.
MINIATURE GOLF by John Margolies (Abbeville Press)
From the publisher of Bowl O Rama (which included a trio of finger holes in the cover) comes the weirdest novelty book on the market: a picture book bound in artificial grass. This extremely slick volume treats its tacky subject matter with a respect the sport hasn’t enjoyed since “pygmy” golf’s heyday in the 1930s, when it was one of Al Capone’s rackets, and federal legislation had to be imposed. Since many of today’s existing courses look like decomposing Rose Parade floats, Margolies’s photo documentation is a real hoot. And with the wonderful Astroturf cover, it’s low maintenance, too. V.A.
