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Friday, December 31, 2010

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Shock Rockwell

Illustration by Mark Stutzman

depicted clockwise from top:
Alice Cooper, Marilyn Manson, Iggy Pop
Wendy O. Williams, Ozzy Osbourne, Screamin' Jay Hawkins,
Gene Simmons, G.G. Allin and Bushwick Bill

(click pic for larger image)

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Right On Rice

Anne Rice
from Playboy, March 1993

(click on pic for larger image)

Sunday, December 26, 2010

The Sunday Funnies

The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers
by Gilbert Shelton

(click pic for larger image)

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Review: The Erotic Couch (2009)

A woman comes into frame and informs us that the film we are about to see contains scenes of a highly sexual nature.   Quick edits show her clenching sheets, while another reveals a woman feverishly straddling a cushion.  "But wipe that drool off your little faces, this isn't a movie about sex, this is a movie about love" she proclaims.  Perspectives change again as she continues the brief monologue; first lying on her stomach absent mindedly thrusting a remote between some sofa cushions before addressing an overhead camera threatening to invade her ample cleavage. "So get your hands out of your pants motherfuckers, I give you the story of The Erotic Couch".  She spills quarters onto herself produced from within her panties and gives us a wicked smile.

The entire sequence carries an unmistakable Russ Meyer-like air in delivery and it's not the last time we see the approach.  Then queue the retro-intro, complete with super groovy make-out music and a girl dancing in silhouette à la Bond movies.  So what in the hell does Gonzoriffic Films and Andrew Shearer have in store for us here, exactly?  I'm not too sure, but I'm damn well pulling up a seat.

Open to Beatrice (co-writer/producer Monica Puller), who has posted an ad to get rid of her old creaky sofa bed that's been giving her back problems to the point she'd rather sleep on the floor.  Strangely enough a package arrives on the doorstep containing a red velvet couch cover just before her first interested party arrives.  Beatrice carefully smoothes the material out over the worn upholstery then sits down in front of it to partake in some tuna, accidentally dropping some onto the sofa.  After a very metaphorical moment she's startled to hear the furniture ask her to remove the can from its place on it; then it instructs her to put the cushion back where it goes, too.  "Slowly, don't do it too fast", the couch suggestively insists.  After a sigh of relief offering, "I could do things to you that you'd like, too. Why don't you have a seat and let's find out."  Beatrice accepts the couch's invitation and is soon on a journey of personal discovery that unspools her own proverbial threads of love, passion and desire.

A series of encounters quickly follow that involve Beatrice and her comely couch and its fetching fibers.  Guests arrive and inhibitions are lost, cushions are caressed, ice cubes get sucked, lady businesses tingle and lesbians loiter.  Can Beatrice quench the insatiable appetite of her sultry sofa before it consumes everyone in its fervid folds?

If one comparison must be made, then I'd say The Erotic Couch is sitting most in John Waters' territory.  It is subversive and outrageous, yet has a refreshing honesty in detail that is extremely rare in mainstream filmmaking.  Director Andrew Shearer shows a real talent in photography and composition (especially during the final coupling) and the score is also very commendable.

Something also must be said for the actresses that Shearer employs.  He admirably chooses atypical female subjects for his films; seemingly as much to prove a point as to give them a unique aesthetic.  And despite the campiness of the story, these women give very brave and earnest performances.  Seeing them 'in heat' should arouse any warm-blooded creature, although you'll be hard pressed to even find an exposed nipple.  The Erotic Couch may not be a sex film, but it is as undeniably sensual as it is undeniably ludicrous.

In the end I think the film really is just about love.  It just also happens to involve some personal relations with furniture.  Because after all, women apparently know a sex couch when they see one.

Sofa-king gay you have to see it for your own eyes; and I say that most affectionately.

Thanks to Maven over at Last Blog On The Left for being kind enough to procure me a copy of this little gem and you should definitely check out the Gonzoriffic Film site at gonzoriffic.com, too.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Have You Ever Been To Electric Wonderland?
Jimi Hendrix pushing his merry merch.

Frank Zappa was once quoted as saying
"May your shit come to life and kiss you on the face"
A sentiment that transcends any season, I think.

Monday, December 20, 2010

The Horrors Of Christmas Past

Black Christmas
aka Silent Night, Evil Night (1974)

Christmas Evil (1980)

Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Don't Open Till Christmas (1984)

(click pics for larger images)

Sunday, December 19, 2010

The Sunday Funnies: Christmas Edition

Honey Hooker
taken from Hustler Magazine

(click pics for larger images)

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Review: Blood Car (2007)

Every so often the B-movie world jettisons into our midst little gems of absurdity.  While viewing Alex Orr's Blood Car I couldn't help think of other little films that "could" such as Eating Raoul, Basket Case, Bad Taste and the like.  In serving up equal parts social commentary and satirical farce, this slapstick horror film never takes its tongue too far out of cheek to overstate its flaws.  Amateurish acting: check.  Low production values: roger that.  Spirited and good-naturedly offensive: yup.  Shits and grins: you betcha!

We are set up with the premise that in the not-too-distant-future gas prices have soared to over 30 dollars a gallon; resulting in the population retiring their vehicles to 'car graveyards' en masse.

Enter one, Archie Andrews, earnest kindergarten teacher by day and tree-hugging vegan by night.  Archie holds dreams of solving the crisis by developing an engine fueled by wheatgrass, but up until now his efforts have been fruitless.  However, after a night of binge drinking he accidentally cuts himself, inadvertently allowing the blood to mix with some of the wheatgrass.  When this results in a successful ignition, Archie decides to take a carpet-cutter to his arm to get the wheels rolling, if you will.  Consequently, he decides to ignore his personal ethics toward the betterment of humanity and modifies his vehicle with a blood delivery system installed discreetly into the trunk.

Firmly in Archie's corner is the cute, bubbly wheatgrass peddler, Lorraine.  She spends her time daydreaming of the eccentric entrepreneur and becomes troubled when she notices nymphomaniac car-enthusiast Denise (who runs the Meat Stand across the lot) trying to get her own hooks into him.  When dirty Denise shows Archie her talents with his own meat stick, he begins to lose his innocence and sanity; stopping at nothing to quench her perverse desire for the open road.  To complicate matters further, federal agents have begun to monitor Archie’s every move to find out the secret behind his alternative fuel.  Or as I’d like to coin it, his arterial fuel.

The film offers up a number of inventive gags to try to amuse us.  We find out the propelling inadequacies of artificially-limbed veterans, an innocent hitchhiker is lured to her demise by the promise of puppies in the trunk and there's a hilariously over the top sequence involving Archie’s poor unsuspecting dog and a BB-gun; among other zaniness.  Then to further tickle our pink parts, Blood Car also offers up a liberal dose of sexuality and the occasional nod to other films (the Last Tango In Paris homage is particularly inspired) to make the ride as enjoyably outrageous as possible.

Blood Car, in its brief 76 minute running time, never overstays its whimsical welcome.  Alex Orr directs things with real panache and you can tell the entire crew has squeezed the most out of their limited resources; seemingly having a great time doing it, too.  If you have a soft spot for absurd cinema much in the Troma vein, then you might want to give Blood Car a spin.

Awards go to both our enthusiastic female leads: sultry Katie Rowlett as Denise, who delivers lines like “put a taco in my mouth and a dick in my ass” with zeal; and wholesome Anna Chlumsky (of My Girl fame), who loses her innocence and eventually all feeling below the neck in this little tale of blood, fuel and fears.  "It’s a story about society, it's a story about YOU!"