“This is the tale of Hugh the Hunter, and the remarkable things he sees… And that see him.” Hugh the Hunter (2015) is a not-so-typical hunting story inspired by and starring artist Hugh Hayden. When an artist’s work is made into live-action, it often lacks plot to keep it interesting. Under the direction of Zachary Heinzerling, this short is an exception.
WEIRD HORIZON FOR THE WEEK OF 11/13/2015
Our weekly look at what’s weird in theaters, on hot-off-the-presses DVDs, and on more distant horizons…
Trailers of new release movies are generally available at the official site links.
IN THEATERS (LIMITED RELEASE):
Entertainment (2015): A struggling comedian with a tragic combover tours the Southwest. We’re excited about this black comedy with surrealist touches and positive reviews. Entertainment official site.
SCREENINGS – (Film Society of Lincoln Center, New York City, Nov. 13-17):
“Action and Anarchy: The Films of Seijun Suzuki”: This retrospective of the remarkable career of experimental B-movie auteur Seijun Suzuki actually began last week, but kicks into high gear tonight with the classic deranged yakuza double feature of Tokyo Drifter and the Certified Weird Branded to Kill. Through Tuesday you can catch the arty trilogy comprised of Tsigoineruwaizen, Kagero-za and Yumeji, followed by Suzuki’s later works, the bizarre Branded spiritual sequel Pistol Opera and the fantasy musical Princess Raccoon. The series ends with a return to his 1960s exploitation work for Nikkatsu Studios with the lesbian-themed sleaze of Carmen from Kawachi and the gangster film Kanto Wanderer. “Action and Anarchy: The Films of Seijun Suzuki” at Film Society of Lincoln Center.
SCREENINGS – (Cinefamily, Los Angeles, Nov. 13, 7:45 PT):
Daisies (1966): Read the Certified Weird entry! This screening of the subversive feminist/Surrealist Czech classic is presented by “Women of Cinefamily.” Women of Cinefamily present Daisies.
IN DEVELOPMENT:
Grindsploitation 2: The Lost Reels (est. 2016): Anthology of horror short-shorts “from twisted minds of filmmakers from across the globe.” Lloyd Kaufman lends a cameo to “UFO John vs. Space Zombies,” and “Heart Attack Theater”‘s Kelly Hughes offers the intriguingly titled “Don’t Kill Grandpa Until We Strangle the Babysitter.” We didn’t even know there was a Grindsploitation 1. Grindsploitation 2: The Lost Reels official home page.
NEW ON DVD:
Forbidden Zone (1980): Read the Certified Weird entry! After numerous delays, the Richard Elfman approved version of the Sixth Dimensional weirdo classic is finally released on DVD. Buy Forbidden Zone
Je T’Aime, Je T’aime (1968): Read Giles Edwards’ capsule review. Kino Lorber surprises with a fanfare-free release of Alain Resnais‘ overlooked, weirdly fractured time travel experiment. Buy Je T’aime, Je T’aime
Queen of Blood (2014): A vampire who sucks blood through her fingertips wanders through the woods. This slow-paced feature, which is heavily indebted to Jean Rollin, is a direct sequel to 2012’s Blood for Irina. Buy Queen of Blood
NEW ON BLU-RAY:
Forbidden Zone (1980): See description in DVD above. Buy Forbidden Zone [Blu-ray]
Je T’Aime, Je T’aime (1968): See description in DVD above. Buy Je T’aime, Je T’aime [Blu-ray]
Queen of Blood (2014): See description in DVD above. Buy Queen of Blood [Blu-ray]
YOU LINK US! YOU REALLY LINK US!:
Alfred Eaker‘s essay on Maya Deren‘s “At Land” was selected as supplemental reading for an A2-level film course.
FREE (LEGITIMATE RELEASE) MOVIES ON YOUTUBE:
The Second Coming: Brought To You In Low Definition (2014): A mealy-mouthed hippie comes to believe he is the second coming of Jesus. This microbudget feature was proudly shot on VHS and has a scene set inside the main character’s bowels. Director Andrew Savage claims Giuseppe Andrews, Adam Cooley, Harmony Korine and gross-out comedies as inspirations. Contains pixelated nudity, scatological humor, and vulgar language, but it’s not as tasteless as some of its inspirations. Watch The Second Coming: Brought To You In Low Definition for free.
What are you looking forward to? If you have any weird movie leads that I have overlooked, feel free to leave them in the COMMENTS section.
RUSS MEYER’S CHERRY, HARRY & RAQUEL! (1970)
Russ Meyer‘s Cherry, Harry, And Raquel (1970) is a film that achieves a sense of hyper-surrealism through kinetic editing alone. Actually, it may be one of the most bizarrely edited films in the whole of cinema. It opens with scrolling text: a strange preamble about the First Amendment and how constipated religious right wackos are a threat to Freedom of Speech, juxtaposed against images of nudie cuties bouncing up and down on a bed. Naturally, the imagery is intentionally provocative, and there is no doubt that some 1970 evangelical heads exploded when this played the drive-in circuit. Of course, it doesn’t take much to bring out the Pat Robertsons or Donald Trumps, be it boobs or red coffee cups, but Meyer was not about to risk being inoffensive. He not only filled the screen with bouncing udders, but also threw in a “pickle shot” courtesy of actor Charles Napier (in his first Meyer film; from here until 1975 the two collaborated in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, The Seven Minutes, and Supervixens). Although Napier’s full frontal nudity in Cherry, Harry, and Raquel was brief, it was enough to to earn the movie an “X” certification.
Beyond the hyperbole is an authentically eccentric film that moves like quicksilver. Cherry, Harry & Raquel officially opens with an even more bizarre narration, warning about the evils of potheads and marijuana coming up from Mexico (cue shots of the border patrol and of Uschi Digard, as the goddess Soul, tanning on a yacht). The buxom blonde prostitute Raquel (Larissa Ely) is in the desert, cavorting with a dark-haired man. In case we don’t get it, there are numerous shots of a phallic shaped rock. As she is atop her lover, he grabs her breasts, which sharply cuts to an extreme close-up of Harry (Napier) shuffling a deck of cards in a poker game. The gamblers are interrupted by a knock coming from the door. The messenger informs Harry that “the old man” wants him. However, old man Franklin (Frank Bolger) is busy being orally serviced by Raquel (a strategically placed chalice blocks the view, inviting us to imagine what she is doing between the geezer’s legs). The intercuts are switchblade-like, potentially inducing viewer whiplash. Franklin fares worse because his orgasm is interrupted by Harry come-a-knockin’.
Harry’s ex-biz partner Apache (John Milo) is muscling in on their monopoly drug racket. Franklin gives Harry the order to waste Apache. Harry takes Raquel with him, which of course leads to sex in the desert, and nobody films makin’ whoopee like Meyers: close-ups of white boots tappin’ the pedal to the metal, phallic rocks, naked girls atop a police car, Soul, wearing only an Indian feather bonnet, embracing more phallic rocks, spinning red sirens, and even a sliver of lezbo action. Don’t expect it to make narrative sense. Just kick back and revel as Meyer’s scissors sculpt his softcore ode to Tex Avery. The only thing missing is a lecherous howlin’ wolf (or, perhaps not).
Harry drops off Raquel, picks up deputy Enrique (Bert Santos) and together the two of them head back to the desert after Apache. After a shoot-out, Harry hooks up with buxom nurse babe Cherry (Linda Ashton), has sex with her, drives her out into the desert and transforms her into a sand castle! As Harry digs out Cherry’s vital parts, the two go at it again. Cue quick cuts of Soul: see Soul exercise in the buff. See Soul shower. See Soul run on a train naked. See Soul mate with a rock penis. See Soul eat celery in her birthday suit. See Soul in the desert, sitting naked atop her car as Harry changes her flat tire. See Soul as a nude telephone operator in the middle of nowhere. The desert lovemaking is one of the most authentically strange vignettes this side of Harry Langdon or Doris Wishman.
Recovering from that montage, the story proceeds to Cherry giving Franklin a sponge bath, but once again the poor old fella just can’t find completion. He calls Harry: “Send Raquel over for a session. Oh, and kill Enrique too. He knows too much.” Meanwhile, Enrique has sex with Raquel and decides to keep the dope for himself. Raquel snuggles up to Franklin, only to find someone has murdered him in his hospital bed.
As luck would have it, Apache is still alive and kills Enrique, saving Harry the effort. Raquel and Cherry finally consummate their affair while Apache and Harry blow each other apart. Boys will be boys. Girls will be girls.
The narrator returns, assuring there is a lesson in all of this and it has something to do with Soul (and the evils of pot). Of course, no one is going to give a damn about the lesson. If ever a movie was tailor made to go with an entire bag of pizza rolls, Cherry, Harry and Raquel would be it.
LIST CANDIDATE: MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO (1991)
DIRECTED BY: Gus van Sant
FEATURING: River Phoenix, Keanu Reeves, William Richert
PLOT: A young, narcoleptic gay prostitute searches for his mother, with the help of a slumming fellow hustler who is heir to a fortune.
WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE LIST: My Own Private Idaho weaves two weird premises together: the story of a narcoleptic searching for his mother and a modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s “Henry IV, Part I.” The movie then adds surreal touches and sets it all inside the world of gay street hustlers.
COMMENTS: Sometimes the line between a “glorious mess” and a plain old-fashioned mess can be very thin, and very personal, indeed. I couldn’t really argue with anyone who sees Idaho as an eccentric gem, but the film has always seemed more like a failed experiment to me. A “Henry IV” adaptation set in the world of street hustlers might have made a good movie (although Idaho suggests that a different approach, with less actual Shakespearean dialogue and no Keanu Reeves, may have been required). Similarly, a bittersweet indie about a narcoleptic hustler searching for his lost mom might have made a good movie. But when slapped together, the two storylines don’t really work; Idaho feels like an interesting story that keeps getting interrupted by a high school class’ Shakespeare rehearsal.
River Phoenix, only two years away from his fatal overdose, is beautifully cast as the fragile prostitute who falls into a spontaneous slumber when stressed (and the life of a street hustler does tend to arouse the occasional stressful situation). He’s dreamy, in both the literal and figurative senses of the word. Keanu Reeves, on the other hand, isn’t very good—but in this case, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. At this point in his career, the world did not yet know that Reeves was a bad actor, and the same pseudo-sophisticated mannerisms that would earn him well-deserved jeers for his portrayal of Jonathan Harker in Dracula play here as a campy stylistic choice. Since his lean torso and boyish sensuality suit the character physically, his weak-jawed, ersatz Prince Hal somehow fits into the entire subplot’s unreal design. It’s a case of a director turning an actor’s weakness into the film’s strength. William Richert is fine as Bob, the Falstaff substitute. Regular readers will want to keep their eyes open for weirdo favorites Grace Zabriske (in a rare seductive role) and Udo Kier (in a more substantial and stranger part).
Mild surrealist touches (the hustlers carrying on a conversation from the covers of male jerk mags) jostle with gritty street realities and scenes lifted almost wholesale from “Henry” to form a concoction that is occasionally interesting and touching, but which also feels cobbled together and frustratingly inconclusive. Idaho does, however, unquestionably tilt toward the weird end of the spectrum. The Criterion Collection upgraded this catalog title to Blu-ray in October, 2015.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
CAPSULE: MISS MEADOWS (2014)
DIRECTED BY: Karen Leigh Hopkins
FEATURING: Katie Holmes, James Badge Dale, Callan Mulvey, Jean Smart, Ava Kolker
PLOT: A prim and proper substitute school teacher moonlights as a vigilante.
WHY IT WON’T MAKE THE LIST: Miss Meadows has cult ambitions and tone issues, but it’s too restrained, not messy enough, and too afraid to wade into weirdness.
COMMENTS: In-movie, Miss Meadows is described, rather too ambitiously, as a “Pulp Fiction Mary Poppins.” Oh, Katie Holmes nails the “Mary Poppins” angle, alright. Dressed in flowery frocks with white gloves and ankle socks, reading books of light verse, correcting others’ grammar, and signing off with her signature phrase—“toodle-oo”—she is an anachronism that never existed, so whitebread and out-of-place in modernity that she’s uncanny. Holmes’ casting was inspired, and at times she almost steers the movie into legitimate character study mode. But, unlike Pulp Fiction, the script she’s trapped in offers no surprises, clever dialogue, or grit.
The opening, where Miss Meadows taps her way down a tree-lined boulevard greeted by CGI-wildlife of varying believability, only to find herself hit on by a scumbag whom she must blow away with her ladylike peashooter, pretty much encapsulates the entire film. The movie does venture down a few seedy alleyways, with little success. Since Miss Meadows is a sexless construct, Holmes’ flirtations with the local sheriff require her to break character and briefly act like a real human being (which she does by dancing to imaginary accordion music), but heat never develops between the two. Conversations (on a yellow rotary phone) with her equally deranged mother serve as an attempt to add another dimension, but one which only ends in obvious revelations. But it’s Meadows’ tea party with antagonist Callan Mulvey, an accused child abuser furloughed from prison in a recent budget crunch, that offers the biggest missed opportunity for the film to develop some depth. Mulvey is the only character who can stand up to Meadows and challenge her sincerity, questionable social agenda, and sanity, but the script abandons its feint towards developing this character into a true foil. That failure leaves the movie with little to rely on: it’s a toothless non-satire, an underdeveloped romance, and a black comedy with no real darkness. Miss Meadows founds itself on a coarse irony, then fails to do much with the premise you couldn’t find in a one-sentence logline.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY: