Turkey Month Thursday on Friday

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Since Turkey Month starts on a Friday, I thought I'd start with a bonus Turkey! I mean, why the hell not? And it's time I started getting back to what serves as 'normal' for me, anyway. (Did I hear somebody say "...Abbie something..." or did someone slip me a tab of Windowpane). What?

Forget that you read that. And don't share it. I don't want any filthy hippies reading this. 

What?

Oh, you're right. I DO want filthy hippies to read me. I want everyone weird and wonderful to read me. Hippies; stoners; cinephiles; horror fans; theatre geeks; MST3K fans; bad movie fans; playwrights; screenwriters; actors; directors; LGBTQ people; free and forward thinking people; loving people; kind people; ecologically aware people... the list goes on and on. In fact, it might be easier to write a list of those I really don't want to read me. It's much shorter: Asshats; haters; bigots; bullies; religious nut-jobs; old Mormons; old Catholics; Neo-Nazis; Orson Scott Card and associates; people without a sense of humor and anyone remotely associated with a 'reality' TV show. That's it. So if you don't fall into one of the categories on the shorter list, please read on. Though, on second thought, those on the short list just might learn a thing or two... Oh, who am I kidding?

Sorry. Rant over. Let's get to this week's Turkey, then.

I have briefly mentioned this movie back in 2008, calling it My Favorite MST3K Episode. But it's crapulence was evident to me even as a child... 1964's Santa Claus Conquers the Martians could very well serve as a monument to truly terrible kids' movies. What makes this movie especially delicious to Turkey connoisseurs is that it marks the first film appearance by future Golden Globe "winner" and future spousal abuser, Pia Zadora, as the Martian child Girmar. 

So here's the plot: The Martians have been monitoring TV signals from Earth and have become jealous that there is no Santa Claus on Mars to give toys to the Martian children. The obvious solution? Kidnap Santa, of course. Meanwhile, two American brats on their way to meet Santa (I forget and don't care why) get wind of the plot and stow-away on the Martians' flying saucer. They and Santa are forced to make toys for Martian kids, but the machines breakdown or something and then the really stupid alien (i.e. most child-like) becomes the Martian Santa and the kids and the real Santa get home just in time to deliver toys on Christmas Eve. 

Terribly written, horribly acted and ineptly directed by Nicholas Webster (best known for his TV work in the 60's and 70's), Santa Claus Conquers... has become a high-camp classic, skewered beautifully by the folks at MST3K and even more fun with a group of smart, quick-witted friends. The production values practically scream "CHEAP!!!" and the acting is more painful than a root-canal without Novocaine. If you love bad movies and have never seen it, make it a point to do so. If you love bad movies and you have seen it, then you know exactly why it's such a wonderfully awful thing. And honestly, it's nice to see Ms Zadora as an innocent, before she married a rich old coot who bought her a Golden Globe (in a category which no longer exists) or a beater of her later, younger new husband. And don't be surprised to see her pop up at least once more this month (anyone remember Butterfly, 18 years later? Poor, poor Orson... ).

Here are both the trailer and highlights from the MST3K version:



Dig that groovy soundtrack, Baby!

"Pills for breakfast? Who are we, Judy Garland?" Man, I miss this show so very much!

Well, that's better! I can see the inklings of my old self coming back. And it feels nice. Hope I got a smile out of you, too (I know a certain someone in Chicago enjoyed this post, at the very least - he knows who he is).

More, anon.
Prospero

Golden Obsessions

The Latest Poster for 'Carrie'

That's Golden Globe winner Julianne Moore as Margaret White on the latest poster for the third film version of Stephen King's debut novel, Carrie. The novel, published in 1973, was set in 1979 - the year I graduated high school.* Director Brian De Palma adapted the book into his classic 1976 film starring Sissy Spacek and Piper Laurie. It was unlike any horror movie that had come before and featured a shocking ending sequence which had audiences reeling (it was also the Feature Film debut of Scientologist John Travolta). In 2002, the movie was remade for television, starring Angela Bettis (May; The Woman) and Patricia Clarkson ("Six Feet Under;" The Green Mile). The best that can be said about it is that it was 'less-than-successful.'

Director Kimberly Pierce (Boys Don't Cry; Stop-Loss) has revisited the story for a new generation with Chloe  Grace Moritz (Let Me In) in the title role and Moore as her religiously fanatic mother. Both Spacek and Laurie were Oscar nominees for their extraordinary performances in DePalma's version. And while I know Moritz has her detractors (I'm talking to you, JA), if anyone can best them, it's Moritz and Moore. I've been a fan of Ms Moore since 1992's The Hand that Rocks the Cradle and Moritz has been on my radar since 2010's Kick-Ass. I think I have to add Carrie to the small list of remakes (along with Evil Dead) to which I am actually looking forward to seeing.

And linking the Golden Globes to my many obsessions, here's a clip of one of my biggest obsessions, presenting an award to another of my obessions:

Seriously, it should be illegal to be as hot as Statham is. And yes, Adele totally deserved to win over Taylor Swift, and not just because Swift is a fickle slut (I didn't just type that, did I?).

And while we're (well, I'm) on the subject of obsessions, Cirque du Soleil has added a new act to their "adult" show in Las Vegas, Zumanity. "Scottish Fantasy" features a very hot hula-hooping act in a tiny kilt designed by Thierry Mugler:

And just in case you haven't seen it before, here's one of the reasons I love Zumanity:



Let's see how well I sleep after after that, tonight...

*Damn, I'm old!

More, anon.
Prospero

Awards Season Nonsense

Golden Globe Hosts Tina Fey and Amy Pohler

I don't know if it's age-induced cynicism, bitterness or just an increasing awareness about what's really important in life, but I have come to loathe the entertainment Awards Season and the shows which present said awards.

It honestly seems ridiculous to me to offer up awards for any art form, especially since art is so very subjective. I may love a film; TV show; play; musical; painting; song; album; composition;  sculpture or installation that you absolutely detest. Or vice-versa. You might find something uproariously funny while I find it repulsively disgusting. I may be moved to tears by a poem or novel, while you simply shrug your shoulders and say "Huh?" No one else I know is as fascinated by Dali's "The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus" as I am. And that's as it should be. Art (and one's response to it) may be one of the few truly individual things we have.

Here's a very personal example: Dear D's favorite actor is Sylvester Stallone and his favorite movie of all-time is Rocky. I have no favorite actor (really, how can one?) and my favorite film of all-time is Bringing Up Baby. If I did have a 'favorite actor,' I can assure you it wouldn't be Stallone. That doesn't mean Stallone hasn't been in some highly entertaining films. It also doesn't mean that every film he's been in, has been bad. Or even that the bad film's in which he's appeared weren't entertaining. Demolition Man is by no means be 'high art,' but I was amused and entertained by it (though, unlike D, I don't have 3 seashells in my bathroom - no matter how hilarious I may find it). 

Awarding folks for their achievements is hardly new. And while I wouldn't be opposed to winning an award of any kind, I imagine that winning a Nobel or Pulitzer or even an Olympic medal would mean much more to me than a Golden Globe, Critics' Choice or Academy Award. While awards shows may be just as entertaining to some folks as great art is to others, to me they are just ego-inflating parties thrown by and for rich people who have nothing better to do than pat one another on the back.

Oh, and for famous LGBT people to publicly come out (via):

Sorry for the bad audio. It's what they had.

More. anon.
Prospero

Golden Slumber

So, the 69th Annual Golden Globe Awards have come and gone. After a promising opening monologue in which host Ricky Gervais claimed he was going to flaunt the rules set for him by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, the show quickly devolved in the usual yawn-fest that most awards shows usually devolve into.

The evening's first award went to Hollywood legend Christopher Plummer for Beginners, a film I have not seen but which I understand is quite good. It's about a man who comes out to his son after his wife's death, only to also reveal that he's dying of cancer. It's exactly the kind of role that wins actors awards. Plummer, of course, is neither gay nor dying of cancer. So let's award him for pretending to be so. I have known plenty of gay men who have died from some horrible disease or other, yet I see no awards on their family's mantels. 

Next was Laura Dern for "Enlightened," a cable show I have never seen. In fact, most of the night's TV winners were for cable shows I have never seen. Idris Elba; Kate Winslet; Peter Dinklage; Kelsey Grammer and Matt LeBlanc all won for shows that air on premium cable channels which many people have never seen. There were a few surprises. Jessica Lange won a well-deserved award for her over-the-top performance on the decidedly deranged "American Horror Story" and Martin Scorcese won an equally well-deserved award as Best Director for the amazing Hugo (though I will never understand how the film made by the 'Best Director' doesn't win 'Best Film'). 

When I was a kid (when dinosaurs roamed the earth), Hollywood Awards shows had a glamor that seems sorely missing today. Can you imagine Elizabeth Taylor or Audrey Hepburn showing up in a gown that revealed their tattoos (not that either of them had any), as Angelina Jolie (among others) did? No. If Joan Crawford had shown up wearing a single driving glove (as the pretentious and grammatically incorrect Madonna did), she would have been laughed off the red carpet.

OK - I know that fashion has evolved. I also know that that tattoos have long-lost the stigma they once had - Hell, I have three of my own. But mine can easily be hidden under the cover of a fashionable tux, should the occasion arise. 30 years ago, Johnny Depp would have washed his hair; Brad Pitt and Jake Gillenhaal would have shaved and Robert Downey, Jr. wouldn't have acknowledged the father that gave him marijuana when he was child.

Maybe I just miss the days when stars were stars; winners were gracious and deserving; ladies & gentlemen looked like ladies & gentlemen and awards actually went to those who deserved them (Pia Zadora notwithstanding). Or maybe I've just turned into a crotchety old man. 

Either way, tonight's show was one big bore, which I turned off halfway to watch a DVR'd episode of "A Gifted Man."

More, anon.
Prospero

Why the Golden Globes Don't Matter

Tonight saw the 68th Annual Hollywood Foreign Press Association's Golden Globe Awards, which supposedly honor the best in both movies and television. Since they are the first awards given during "award season," many people consider them to be indicators of how the AMPAS voters will choose the winners of the Oscars. To which I say:  Feh!

Why do I say this? Two words: Pia Zadora. Yes, Pia Zadora. Does anyone remember her? Way back in 1982, Pia won a Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer (an award which is no longer given, by the way) for her work in the truly awful Southern potboiler Butterfly. A true stinker of a film, Butterfly  is basically about the incestuous relationship between an Arizona farmer (Stacy Keach) and his daughter (Zadora). A wretched train wreck of a film, co-starring Orson Welles as a bellicose judge, Butterfly had yet to be screened by anyone when Zadora won her award. It turned out that her husband Meshulam Riklis (who was 31 years older than she was when they married), actually paid members of the HFPA to vote for her. The scandal nearly scuttled the Golden Globes for good.

So tonight, while I watched the first two hours of this year's Golden Globes (mostly to see just how catty host Ricky Gervais would be), I couldn't help but think of Pia Zadora and her completely undeserved award. And of course, Gervais delivered the goods, taking jibes at certain Scientologists not in attendance and the most recent scandal involving tickets to Cher's show in Vegas.

Still doubting? Then take a gander at Zadora's "Award-Winning" performance:

Zadora would go on to be in the film adaptation of Harold Robbins' The Lonely Lady and later make a hilarious appearance as a beatnik artist in John Waters' 1998 Hairspray. She also had a small role in The Naked Gun 33 1/3, but has since gone on to be a rather minor footnote in Entertainment History. I should also point out that as a child, she appeared in the horrendous Santa Claus Conquers The Martians, though the hilarious folks at MST3K have already skewered that movie - My favorite line? "Pills for breakfast? What are we, Judy Garland?"

So, while favorites like "Glee," The King's Speech and The Social Network may have won Golden Globes tonight, I'll wait until the real awards are given out later this year.

More, anon.
Prospero.

Golden Globe Showers

Ah, mid-January. And the unofficial start of "Awards Season." Each year, The Hollywood Foreign Press Association (a bunch of old guys writing critiques for the European and Asian markets), give out their version of the Oscar for Excellence in American Films and Television. Kind of an oxymoron, isn't it?

I watched the first hour tonight. Host Ricky Gervais was very funny. Even funnier were some of the award recipients and presenters. Monique, winning for Best Supporting Actress in Precious (a film I did not and probably will not, see) thanked God (though what God would have to do with one winning any type of award still eludes me - like He cares). Felicity Huffman proved herself human with a series of teleprompter flubs; Julianna Margolies and Michael C. Hall won best actress/actor awards and I was bored beyond comprehension.

It was only recently (5 minutes ago), that I discovered that not only had James Cameron won Best Director for the derivative Avatar, but the film itself won Best Picture (Drama). Seriously? Are the members of the Hollywood Press Association all teen-aged boys with ADD? Did no one in the HFPA see Moon? Was everyone so blinded by 3D and CGI that actual good filmmaking and acting were set aside? Did Monique actually believe that dress was flattering? Does anyone actually take the Golden Globes seriously?

Of course, I'm complaining about an award show that never has actually been about the "best." But still. Yes, Meryl deserved her record-breaking 7th Golden Globe for Julie & Julia, and "Glee" deserved to win Best Series (Comedy or Musical). But Avatar as Best Picture (Drama)? A bit of my soul died upon hearing that news...

So what did you think of the Golden Globes? Did you watch? Did you care? Are you as annoyed as I am by Cameron's ego-inflating wins? Curious minds want to know, as the old marketing promo goes. Leave me a comment.

More Awards Nonsense, anon.
Prospero