August 1st, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
Cult is cult, regardless of the popularity of the object in question. Though it has growing competition in The Big Lebowski, for many the midnite experience supreme is Rocky Horror. It’s a haven for the otherwise shy to wear lingerie, throw crap at the screen, and warble at the top of their lungs. Maybe this description doesn’t do the movie justice, but when the audience can be hijacked by any strutting man in a bustier and fishnets, the movie ceases to matter.
Richard Elfman’s Forbidden Zone, on other hand, refuses to be upstaged.
It’s stranger, seedier, wilder than Rocky Horror, a burning shot of punked-and-funked quasi-euro jazz, German expressionism, twisted animation, and lust that runs a scant 75 minutes. It was also deservedly more controversial. Sexual (and transsexual) taboos collide politely on the surface of social mores, but heaven help the ones that dig up the black-faced history of what Americans once found entertaining, albeit via the sixth dimension. A dimension under the rule of a carnally voracious Herve Villachaize, no less.
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Tags: Uncategorized
August 1st, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
Cult is cult, regardless of the popularity of the object in question. Though it has growing competition in The Big Lebowski, for many the midnite experience supreme is Rocky Horror. It’s a haven for the otherwise shy to wear lingerie, throw crap at the screen, and warble at the top of their lungs. Maybe this description doesn’t do the movie justice, but when the audience can be hijacked by any strutting man in a bustier and fishnets, the movie ceases to matter.
Richard Elfman’s Forbidden Zone, on other hand, refuses to be upstaged.
It’s stranger, seedier, wilder than Rocky Horror, a burning shot of punked-and-funked quasi-euro jazz, German expressionism, twisted animation, and lust that runs a scant 75 minutes. It was also deservedly more controversial. Sexual (and transsexual) taboos collide politely on the surface of social mores, but heaven help the ones that dig up the black-faced history of what Americans once found entertaining, albeit via the sixth dimension. A dimension under the rule of a carnally voracious Herve Villachaize, no less.
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Tags: Uncategorized
To echo one of the survivors’ words from the roundtable interview (read our story on it here) some horror fans are bound to be disappointed by Baghead. But this is a group with a much better sense of humor than it often gets credit for. Sam Raimi owes his livelihood to this audience, and the Duplass Brothers’ latest throws more respect their way than the shameless, teen-skewed retreads currently churned out by the studios.
The story centers on four struggling actors: handsome Matt, his ex Catherine, her younger competition Michelle, and her blatant admirer Chad. The foursome cruises the fringe festival circuit, trying to get in on anything with traction (indie vet Jett Garner steals the first 15 minutes of the movie). Naturally the night ends in failure. What else to do but drive to Big Bear and spend the weekend in an isolated cabin in the woods?
Matt gets the brilliant notion the group should co-write a movie starring themselves. Chad is less interested in writing than kissing Michelle, and Michelle is less interested in kissing Chad than sleeping with Matt, providing Catherine doesn’t sleep with him first. If it sounds wacky it isn’t.
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Tags: Film · Reviews
July 25th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
It’s dark. It’s late. It’s quiet. You’re in a cabin deep in the woods, ten miles from any major road, trying to sleep in spite of the silence. All you hear is the sound of your own breathing, growing shorter and faster. You have that feeling, that every moment you keep your eyes closed someone draws closer. You to calm down, remind yourself you’re alone. You take a look, and find a silhouette in the window.
It’s a man with a bag on his head.
Whether or not this image is frightening is questionable. Whether or not it’s a good idea for a thriller is up for debate. For filmmakers Mark and Jay Duplass, the question “is a man with a bag on his head scary?’ started as an inside joke, an ongoing survey on a movie set. Some said yes, some said no, some wanted to know what kind of bag they were talking. The string of responses got the Duplass’ thinking, but that’s just half the story.
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Tags: Film · Interviews
July 25th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 2 Comments
It’s dark. It’s late. It’s quiet. You’re in a cabin deep in the woods, ten miles from any major road, trying to sleep in spite of the silence. All you hear is the sound of your own breathing, growing shorter and faster. You have that feeling, that every moment you keep your eyes closed someone draws closer. You to calm down, remind yourself you’re alone. You take a look, and find a silhouette in the window.
It’s a man with a bag on his head.
Whether or not this image is frightening is questionable. Whether or not it’s a good idea for a thriller is up for debate. For filmmakers Mark and Jay Duplass, the question “is a man with a bag on his head scary?’ started as an inside joke, an ongoing survey on a movie set. Some said yes, some said no, some wanted to know what kind of bag they were talking. The string of responses got the Duplass’ thinking, but that’s just half the story.
[Read more →]
Tags: Film · Interviews
July 4th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
Considering The School for Scandal debuted in 1777, the latest production at Topanga Canyon’s Theatricum Botanicum feels remarkably in tune with the times. Once your ears begin processing the rapid-fire stream of five-dollar words, it’s hard to ignore that the gossip and defaming have merely changed venues, from the salons of the 18th century to the blind items and frothing immediacy of the blogosphere.
If Jane Austen captured the passive-aggressive nature of British society, then “Scandal” is clearly a man’s play on it. The show made an overnight sensation of its writer Richard Brinsley Sheridan (who’s bio reads like a sequel to “Barry Lyndon”), and it’s a fitting creation of a mad genius in his twenties.
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Tags: Reviews · theatre
June 16th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 4 Comments
In December 1948, George Orwell completed a novel that would be recognized as one of the masterpieces of dystopian literature. In the decades that followed, “1984″ has been translated into sixty-two languages. Its prescience and language are at the center of an ongoing debate over the role of government in our privacy, our security, and our freedom.
In 2006, Tim Robbins and the L.A. based theatre company The Actors’ Gang debuted a stage adaptation of Orwell’s groundbreaking work by Michael Gene Sullivan. The show has seen productions worldwide and on June 17th it returns to the West Coast for a limited three-week engagement at REDCAT.
Robbins is a stand-out performer in drama (The Shawshank Redemption, Mystic River) and comedy (Bull Durham, The Hudsucker Proxy, and recently Noise), with critically acclaimed turns as writer-director (Bob Roberts, Dead Man Walking), but his career began onstage. He was one of the founding members of The Actors’ Gang and currently serves on the board as Artistic Director.
Now Mr. Robbins talks with LA.CityZine about the challenge of translating “1984″ live, his role in the process, and why Orwell’s message is as critical now as when it was first printed nearly 60 years ago.
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Tags: Interviews · theatre
May 29th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
For a thriller unceremoniously dumped between the summer’s big-budget salvos, “The Strangers” will surprise the squeamish and the bloodthirsty alike. In his feature film debut, writer-director Bryan Bertino delivers a sharp, unforgiving, relentlessly terrifying experience with exceptional dramatic heft. Were it not for the odd stumble into genre cliche, this would have been a minor classic. As it stands, it’s a noteworthy arrival for its helmer and its established leads that deserves to be the sleeper hit of the year.
The modern horror resurgence can largely be attributed to production value more than innovation. As in the first wave of the late 70’s and 80’s, the stars were the murderers or the murders themselves (Check out: “Friday the 13th in 7 minutes“). Laurie Strode aside, the casts of these were closer to cattle: doe-eyed, well-fed, and ready for slaughter. The remarkable intimacy of “The Strangers” make it a stand out.
Kristen McKay (Liv Tyler) and James Hoyt (Scott Speedman) are a young couple returning from a friend’s wedding, staying overnight at the Hoyt summer house in a remote suburban community. Discovering the exact nature of Kristen and James’ relationship is one of the few twists the marketing hasn’t spoiled, and the first act is full of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it detail, which Bertino implies with precision and restraint. The house itself is credibly unsettling. The brownish well water issuing from the faucets, the folksy, hideous furniture, the family touchstones are stale and smothering. It’s clear there is a history in this place that Kristen has never been a part of, a legacy of wasted summers that makes James unguarded and complacent. Often the protagonists of scare flicks are completely stupid, but in this movie they’re tired and lazy. It’s hard not to identify.
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Tags: Film · Reviews
The world according to David Mamet is a con game, full of hustlers and their rubes-in-waiting. It’s a tenet that has informed his best work, and casts the bitterly uplifting Redbelt as a promising departure from the canon. Is it performance-driven action, or an action-fueled drama? For the most part, it succeeds as both.
Chiwetel Ejiofor is Mike Terry, a virtuous Jujitsu instructor who’s charitably running his West LA academy into debt. When a freak accident with a fragile stranger (Emily Mortimer) destroys his storefront window, Mike plunges into bankruptcy. His humiliating search for a loan becomes a maddening cycle of betrayal and misfortune.
As a visual stylist, Mamet is finally impressing. In the age of Bourne, he’s a little outclassed, but the explosions of violence are confidently authentic. They’re more about tension than thrills, a constant challenge to Mike’s training mantra “there’s always an escape.” When money’s involved, the escape is rarely a peaceful one.
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Tags: Reviews
May 6th, 2008 Written by: Artie · 1 Comment
Stephen Karam’s work has seen theatres from Portland, Oregon to Providence, Rhode Island. He staged an original musical adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma at the Kennedy Center while attending college and his plays that followed have earned a nomination for a Helen Hayes Award, a nod from GLAAD media, and steady critical acclaim. He’s done all of this before thirty. With a day job.
A panegyric is the exact opposite of the introduction Stephen would write for himself. It would most-likely amount to two words: working playwright, with the emphasis on working. But the accomplishments are starting to pile up.
Now his latest celebrated production Speech & Debate has been invited to LA Theatre Works for a limited engagement beginning May 14th. Featuring Andrea Bowen (”Desperate Housewives,” Broadway’s “Les Miserables”), show veteran Gideon Glick, and SNL Alum Nora Dunn, the play will be broadcast via the international radio program The Play’s the Thing.
Stephen speaks to Cityzine about the surreal experience of watching this play take on a life of its own.
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Tags: Interviews · theatre
There are few things less funny than a potentially fatal illness, yet writer/star Hal Ackerman (read Hal Ackerman’s CityZine interview here) cruises past a minefield of male taboos with heart and sly absurdity in Testosterone: How Cancer Made a Man of Me.Ackerman is “Hal,” a working writer trying to raise a teenage daughter and navigate the LA dating scene. Three months into a steamy relationship with a career driven woman, he’s diagnosed with prostate cancer and turns to an unconventional treatment that depletes his body of testosterone. As his masculinity is afflicted, Hal searches for a new definition of manhood.
Held at the intimate, fifty-odd seat Powerhouse Theatre, the play is tailored to Ackerman’s gifts as a storyteller. From the stealthy opening monologue he engages the audience point blank and being that it’s his story, Ackerman is undoubtedly the voice of authority. The surprise of the production is how delightfully skewed and bracingly candid that voice turns out to be.
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Tags: Reviews · theatre
Waiting in line is a pointless exercise, a byproduct of crushing humanity. And what rewards lie at the end? A processed meal, the disgruntled face of the DMV, or a ride down Splash Mountain? What else do those empty minutes buy us, aside from burgers, bull$hit, and Disney’s brackish tribute to American racism?
A killer app.
With April 29th, the impending “GTA Day” barreling towards us, what is it about midnight and gaming that makes standing around magically acceptable? I have friends who are like caged wolverines in a doctor’s waiting room after five minutes, but go silent and still as a brass Buddha outside Best Buy on Halo’s Eve. I’d be quick to blame it on Bungie were it not for kids in Japan braving malnutrition or expulsion to breathe the air from a Playstation 2’s heat sink a decade ago.
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Tags: Living
Cult is cult, regardless of the popularity of the object in question. Though it has growing competition in The Big Lebowski, for many the midnite experience supreme is Rocky Horror. It’s a haven for the otherwise shy to wear lingerie, throw crap at the screen, and warble at the top of their lungs. Maybe this description doesn’t do the movie justice, but when the audience can be hijacked by any strutting man in a bustier and fishnets, the movie ceases to matter.
