Let's Fact It: I Twitter.

(siiiiighhh....)

Yes, it's true: I broke down and got a Twitter thingy. Yay, me.

As you can probably tell, by the seven people in my box over there that actually follow me here (and the 12 of you who have been here since Day One), I don't get a lot of traffic. Hopefully, with what traffic will follow on Twitter, that'll change.

So now, if you want to follow me on Twitter, just click my little blue bird link over there on the right side of the page, get informed, then come on back. That's all it takes.

Almost seems too easy, doesn't it?

Just don't expect any more or less profundity in the space of a sentence. Maybe less.

That's all; back to your lives, people.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Oscar Time Again! Who Wins? Who Cares? - The Sequel

Didn't we just do the Oscars last year? Sheesh....

Regulars here will recall how last year I commented on my disdain for this "awards" show, with the glitz, hype and self-congratulatory high-fiving of overpaid actors and the vehicles they get filmed in, all vying for a little gold man to validate their craft.

Whatever, I say.

You may also remember how I, quite deftly, picked the ones who would NOT win this coveted symbol of nonsense. This year, I prepare to do the same thing again, only with a different cast...for the most part, anyway.

So let's start, as before, with the top dogs and move down the kennel:

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BEST PICTURE

Avatar

The Blind Side

District 9

The Hurt Locker

Inglourious Basterds

Precious

A Serious Man

Up

Up in the Air

An Education - Not only do there seem to be an ungodly amount of nominees for Best Picture this year, there are also a lot of pretty well-known titles even for the novice to recognize, if just from sound blurbs and ads and so forth. This one, however, has the luxury of having been heard of by only a select few, seen by even fewer and, up to its mention as a nominee, I had no idea this movie even existed. This is even worse than The Reader was last year - at least THAT one had what's-her-face, the Titanic chick, to star in it. This movie doesn't even have THAT going for it. You know your movie's in trouble when no one's heard of it outside of an Oscar nomination...it's in worse trouble still if its poster looks like a prom picture...and in worse trouble still if it makes you think of a movie that lost an Oscar the year before.

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BEST ACTOR

Jeff Bridges (Crazy Heart)

George Clooney (Up in the Air)

Colin Firth (A Single Man)

Morgan Freeman (Invictus)

Jeremy Renner (The Hurt Locker) - I don't mean to pick on this poor guy, but let's face facts: he's up against Jeff Bridges. And George Clooney. And Morgan Freeman. You think YOU'D stand a chance against that Mount Rushmore of talent? Even Colin Firth has a better chance at winning, what with his past track record of acting credits. Quick: name three films Jeremy Renner's been in. Ah-ah-ah, don't Google him. Come on, name 'em...there, you see? Not so easy, is it? Not to say that Renner doesn't have it in him. He might stand a chance, just not this year, not in the same cage as these pit bulls. The Hurt Locker's a good film, it's just that it's an experience you take in altogether, not by noticing individual performances. Sorry, Jeremy - hang in there: You survived National Lampoon's Senior Trip, you'll get there eventually....

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BEST ACTRESS

Sandra Bullock (The Blind Side)

Helen Mirren (The Last Station)

Carey Mulligan (An Education)

Gabourey Sidibe (Precious)

Meryl Streep (Julie and Julia) - Surprised? I'm surprised to be writing it myself. But this year the playing field is tough: good performances by many talented ladies - and just between you, me and the fencepost, I think it's going to be a battle royale between Sandra Bullock and Gabourey Sidibe, with a little bit of Helem Mirren thrown in for good measure. And since I already mentioned An Education earlier, it'd be unfair to think it would sweep the non-nominees. After all, I don't think anyone from that film will even get to be within 50 feet of the stage that night. Anyway, back to Meryl: she got her Oscar in 1982, has been top-notch for a long time, slacked off a tad in the late 80s/early 90s then got back on track. Now, it's easy for anyone to do an imitation, which Meryl does a fine one of Julia Child here, but it's not like The French Lieutenant's Woman. Or Sophie's Choice. Or Silkwood. Ah well.

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BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Matt Damon (Invictus)

Christopher Plummer (The Last Station)

Stanley Tucci (The Lovely Bones)

Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds)

Woody Harrelson (The Messenger) - Yeah, I know, I know; The People Vs. Larry Flynt. I know, Woody's been in this position before. And it's not like he doesn't have the acting chops. But for Woody's part, this is like he's the clown shoes of the award show's evening. The loveable, affable goof in a room full of actors who have all had their share of acclaim, awards, what have you. Of course, the sight of Woody standing alongside Christopher Plummer and Stanley Tucci is enough to make anyone do a double-take, shake their collective heads and rub their disbelieving eyes. My take on this: apparently the Oscar-nominating committee was short on dubbage this year. Not that Woody doesn't deserve another nomination...but the actual award itself? I think it would take a lot more than payoffs to make something like that happen. Maybe a Larry Flynt sequel?

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BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Vera Farmiga (Up in the Air)

Maggie Gyllenhaal (Crazy Heart)

Anna Kendrick (Up in the Air)

Mo'nique (Precious)

Penelope Cruz (Nine) - You may remember last year that I was thinking of going with Penelope but didn't. This year I am. Why? Because as a follow-up to an award-winning performance in a Woody Allen movie no less, a movie-musical usually isn't the best way to go. Especially not a movie-musical like Nine, which was no great shakes to begin with, but for casting the likes of Penelope Cruz, not exactly known for her musical abilities, you have to accept the fact that things are just not going to go well. She's a good actress, best-suited for light comedy and romantic venues. For musicals, however, where the subject matter is most fondly remembered in its original Broadway incarnation, this is bad news for everybody involved. It's a shame, but all things considered, Penelope should have read a few more scripts before committing...and maybe taken a few more singing classes, that kinda thing.

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BEST DIRECTOR

Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker)

James Cameron (Avatar)

Quentin Tarantino (Inglourious Basterds)

Lee Daniels (Precious)

Jason Reitman (Up in the Air) - Even if you're the son of Ivan Reitman, even if you have the good fortune to have George Clooney in your film, and even if you get positive buzz about your project, that's no guarantee you can stand against a female director wth fire and passion, a perfectionist who can formulate billion-dollar blockbusters, a wordsmith who has stodd tall among his contemporaries and won an Oscar for Pulp Fiction to boot and a man whose previous film Monster's Ball was so good it gave Halle Berry the opportunity to earn her own little gold guy (yeah right, it's all about the payoffs, people...). Jason may have done films like Juno and Thank You For Smoking, but he still has a way to go before making his own imprint on the film-going psyche. Not that Ivan had an easy time of it, but at least HE had the good fortune to have worked with Bill Murray, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Billy Crystal, squeezing all the laughs he could from them. Maybe Jason can take a few more notes from Pop....

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BEST ANIMATED FEATURE FILM

Coraline

Fantastic Mr. Fox

The Princess and the Frog

Up

The Secret of Kells - I don't really have a whole lot to say about an animated film from France and Belgium about a boy who has an adventure and blah blah blah....

But think about it: a little animated film up against two Disneys, the Nightmare Before Christmas guy and Wes Anderson.

Would you fancy your chances?

Neither would I.





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And there you have MORE choices to take to the bank on Oscar night. Just like all those people in the nominating committee ware taking their money to the bank they get from Hollywood for their favors of voting...okay, no more cynicism for tonight. Gotta go to bed. We'll see how right I am in a month or so.

For now, place your bets, place your bets.

Dope out.

- TGWD

Turkish Star Wars (aka: The Man Who Saves The World / Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam) (1982)

This is not meant as a criticism, but the film I am about to lay upon you is, I can honestly say, a really bad film.

Plan 9 from Outer Space? It was better than this.

StarCrash? At least it had Caroline Munro.

Even Supersonic Man had some intentional laughs.

But Turkish Star Wars (aka: Dunyayi kurtaran adam, aka: The Man Who Saves The World) - this is the equivalent of watching a student film made by kids with a broken camera and no script.

Again, not a criticism. Because I really do enjoy this film a lot. But it is as technically adroit as Harold P. Warren's home movies.

You can tell you're in for a rough ride from the minute the credits start. Why? Because unlike Star Wars, this movie can't afford a fancy text crawl: Turkish Star Wars has titles painted in orange on black cardboard. Yep: painted. And then they just pan down the cardboard from one credit to the next.

(and one crew member, Aslan Tektas, must not have been liked very much: he just gets a static card with no fancy paint job or pan or nothing. Poor guy.)

So that's the beginning credits for your big Star Wars film, huh, Turkey? Fine: bring it on....

Then the movie starts, with random scenes from Star Wars and clips of NASA missiles launching interspersed throughout a Turkish-language narrative (with English subtitles, thank GOD) explaining how Earth has been pummeled by a nuclear war and repeated attacks from an Evil Wizard, until Earth protected itself with an outer shield melded together from human brain cells.

(...sorry, that's what I got out of it.)

And because of the pictures they show, we are led to believe that Earth now looks exactly like the Death Star. And the good guys of Earth ride around in TIE Fighters. And the Evil Wizard (more on him in a bit) has his forces attack in X-Wing Fighters. And the Millennium Falcon is in there somewhere, too, but it's not clear whose side it's on.

As confusing as that is, this is only the first TEN MINUTES of the movie.

Seems the Evil Wizard needs a human brain to conquer the Death Star...oops, I meant Earth. Sorry...and breach its protective crust of brains. Like a "diamonds-cutting-diamonds" sort of thing, I guess. I'd need a neurologist to explain that to me.

Then we finally meet the Evil Wizard and...wow. Decked out in red and gold with a huge spiky helmet and a faceplate that looks like a test reject from Excalibur, this is not your father's Darth Vader. In fact, this bad guy looks more ready for Mardi Gras than ruling the galaxy. And with a big bushy beard poking down beneath his "scary" mask, this Evil Wizard is like an armor-plated hobo. In long, flowing red robes.

Okay, anyway...two Earth pilots (from Turkey, natch) named Murat (Cuneyt Arkin) and Ali (Aytekin Akkaya) are flying around in their TIE Fighters, shooting down X-Wings, and as they they are first shown, it is painfully, painfully obvious they they are NOT sitting in TIE Fighters. They are instead sitting in front of projected images of the dogfights from Star Wars (whose images keep changing on them repeatedly, usually multiple times in one scene).

As an added bonus to this scene, these space jockeys are wearing futuristic space gear which consists of tight-fitting beige football helmets and foam-padded headphones like the ones that came with the first generation of Walkmen (remember those, fellow children of the Eighties?). Not entirely evoking a galaxy far, far away, here.

So they get shot down eventually and crash onto a desert planet, both jockeys emerging from beneath dirt, rocks and rubble but without their TIE Fighters anywhere in sight, not to mention their football helmets. They proceed to walk along, marveling at what appears to be the same Sphinx, Pyramids and Egyptian hieroglyphics that are found on Earth. Not that they actually walk up to these artifacts and touch them or anything; they simply react to unrelated footage of these same-said items. It's pretty bad when you can't even get your actors in the same shot as hieroglyphics.

Jockey Ali starts whistling for women (because yes, Virginia: there is sexism in space) and armored skeleton fighters on horseback arrive. That's the way things go in this movie. This leads to a two-fisted fight scene that looks to be choreographed by Jerry Lewis, and after they defeat their attackers the space jockeys steal two horses and ride away to the strains of the Indiana Jones theme....

See, right there's something else altogether: anyone who's read my review for 3 Dev Adam is already familiar with Turkey's lax copyright laws, so not only do we have blatant misuse of Star Wars footage, but also thievery of the aforementioned Indy theme, as well as music from The Black Hole, Flash Gordon, Planet of the Apes, the James Bond film Moonraker, a disco version of the Battlestar Galactica theme and a tinkly little beginning credits theme I cannot place for the life of me but would love to have as a ring tone.

So Murat and Ali ride off, Indy theme blaring, as random guys in Halloween masks pop up about three times and growl into the camera - yeah, I dunno, either. Then three or four...robots, I think, maybe Turkish Cylons...zap them off their horses with flashing space guns, Murat makes a wise-ass comment and another Halloween mask growls into view.

That's just the way Turkish outer space is, I suppose.

Murat and Ali are then led in ropes by the skeleton guys to an outdoor arena to witness a bunch of Roman gladiators fighting to the death and a blue robot made of rubber, a water cooler and a police light crushing a young boy's head....

...okay, I was going to just do this review by giving a rundown of every single scene in this movie, but with that last paragraph I realized that if I were to continue doing that, I'd run the risk of an aneurysm, writer's cramp and several reader letters along the lines of "Aw come on - you made all that up!". It's all the truth and, this indeed may be the first film to actually be better enjoyed by NOT knowing the native language.

Seeing that Turkey is a big exporter of sword-and-sandal epics, Turkish Star Wars decided to utilize the vast deserts, mountains and rocks at their disposal to equate an outer space setting...see, this is supposed to be a broken-away planetoid from the Earth, but who knows - it might as well be Turkish Tattooine.

I mentioned the masks used earlier. The first scene in which these masks are used is so clipped and short that the viewer can barely notice that these rubber masks are of, in order of appearance, a jungle native, a bright red devil mask (complete with mustache, goatee and horns) and Quasimodo - like from Hunchback of Notre Dame, that guy. Yeah. These same masks are much more pronounced in a later scene set at the Turkish Tattooine cantina where the film-makers break out every Halloween mask in Turkey - even an Asian stereotype mask guy in a silk robe jumping around and kung-fu fighting against the space jockeys.

But Murat and Ali can fight too. Kinda. Much is made of the fact that these guys can beat up every alien on this stupid planet and, in one training montage that is pretty darn nigh famous for bad-movie lovers such as myself, punch the ever-loving heck out of rocks and boulders and tie stones around their legs to train them for super-human jumps that almost make it look like they're jumping on trampolines. Almost, that is.

Oh! And then there's the Muppets! I'm serious! There are freaking Muppets in Turkish Star Wars! Big red furry Muppets with black claws! Brown Muppets with deadly tinsel hanging from their fingers! Killer Muppets! Take that, Big Bird!

Something else I almost forgot to mention: the stone fox they have playing Turkish Princess Leia. This actress, Necla Fide, has long blonde hair, big eyes, great legs, and a radiant smile. Too bad she only has like 15-20 words in the whole film. She may be Turkish Princess Leia, but her presence suggests Turkish Darth Maul.

I know that I've forgotten a literal ton of other smaller, more superfluous characters but Turkish Star Wars, while a foreign ripoff of a far-better film, is so jam-packed with characters, set details, people bound by phone cords and neon tubes, thickly gauze-wrapped mummies, demon heads cut out of sheets of tin and several clips from the Bert I. Gordon film The Magic Sword, that it is a visceral experience the viewer will love by default. It may be bad (it is), it may be inept (oh yeah), it may be opportunistic (definitely) and sloppy (ditto), but it is not boring, never mundane and endlessly fun.

Now as far as the plot - who really cares? The version I got had subtitles but you could watch Turkish Star Wars without subtitles and without sound, for that matter, and it would still be a great film - wild sights dazzling the viewer every minute - the perfect party video.

Yes, Turkish Star Wars is a bad movie, but I love it with all my heart because of everything it tries, accomplishes, mimics, begs, borrows and steals. The movie's director, Çetin Inanç, while probably not as well-remembered as George Lucas, still created something quite rare in the world of Star Wars ripoff films - a project that brings a smile to the viewer's lips, even those viewers who are so jaded to Hollywood's normal product. This is unique. Fun. A throwback. Way back.

And the best part about Turkish Star Wars? Having seen Star Wars beforehand isn't a prerequisite.

In fact, it's probably even more fun of you've only seen The Magic Sword.

A View To A Kill (1985)

Never mind the fact that I am mad at the world right now and would like to seriously hurt about 8 or 10 people - even if I had perfect karma, just won a million dollars and felt like a 20 year-old, health-wise, I would still be spewing venom at my subject for today because it is, quite seriously, the absolute worst movie I have ever seen in my life.

And without any of the redeeming qualities I find so dear in bad movies, this doesn't even get the benefit of the doubt. There won't be any of my usual "oh, but THIS part was good" or "Oh, but THAT actor was okay" stuff here. This is the absolute worst of the worst of the worst.

And do you want to know the really bad part about this movie? If they had just left well-enough alone two years prior to the release of this thing and never made this, Roger Moore would unequivocally be the best-remembered of the James Bonds.

In 1983, MGM/UA released the 13th Bond film Octopussy. In spite of its snicker-inducing moniker, this was a fast-paced, action-packed spy film with lots of spectacular stunt work, a dazzling amount of spy gadgets and ingenious ideas, not to mention one of Roger Moore's most charming performances as Agent 007. Add to that a sexy performance by Maud Adams as the femme fatale of the piece and a winning role by tennis pro Vijay Amritraj as a Bond ally.

...but no; a gravy train is a gravy train is a gravy train and they had to squeeze one more performance out of Moore before Albert "Cubby" Broccoli and company would let him go. And so it came to be that they concocted one more script for Moore to go through his spy game with. Only problem was this was also the first film that did NOT use the Ian Fleming books as a spring board. Oh sure, it was the title of a short-story by Fleming, but despite an element here or there, there is no evidence of Ian Fleming's handiwork or train of thought herein.

A View to a Kill, besides being a stupid title for a movie anyway, is an even stupider idea for a James Bond film because, first and foremost, it takes away every winning thing about a Bond movie and replaces it with things we've seen a million times before done a million times better, and other ideas that are just plain stupid.

Let's talk about the script: it was written by Richard Maibaum and Michael G. Wilson, both of whom had worked on prior adaptations of Bond films from Fleming books, but here simply cobbled together elements that were familiar from other lesser spy movies, slapped the James Bond label on them and tried passing them off. This film deals with microchips being developed by a megalomaniac tyrant named Zorin (Christopher Walken, of all people) who determines to destroy Silicon Valley and rule the world, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs be damned.

Of course, to throw several red herrings in along the way, there are boring subplots involving fixed horse races, biological engineering and mad German scientists, not to mention Russian agents who are introduced as arbitrarily as they are dropped again. And do you know what? Not a one of these damned bargain-basement subplots have one thing or another to do with the movie or its stupid plot - they just kill time until the next would-be show-stopping set piece.

Never has a car chase through crowded streets in Paris been so uninteresting or so contrived, right down to the Parisian cab that slowly crumbles apart as it is crashed hither and yon. Speaking of which, I doubt very many cars could be driven with their back end ripped off. And how bad does a movie have to be when it can't even make a life-or-death chase up the length of the Eiffel Tower exciting or even interesting?

Even as Bond hangs for dear life off the end of a runaway fire engine, or clings to the tow cable of a blimp and is dragged across the tops of skyscrapers, it's all you can do to squint and try and avoid the cuts to stunt people and not notice the forced comedy bits during the action. They were much more seamless in Octopussy, or even in The Spy Who Loved Me, for that matter. Not here; you can practically hear the cackling of Cubby Broccoli as he delights in the clever antics they put Bond through. My only thought was: they're gonna kill Roger Moore - he's too old for this stuff!

If only they were as clever by half as Maibaum and Wilson thought they were. If only this weren't as piece meal an effort as it looked.

Yeah, this movie goes from Iceland to England to France to the United States but, unlike its globe-hopping betters, A View to a Kill really doesn't take any time to make any of its locales the least bit interesting; it's all sets and backdrops for feigned spy games.

Now, to the cast. I've already mentioned Roger Moore and the age factor - yes, his years actually caught up with him here. His action scenes aren't all that actionful. The sex scenes with pretty ladies are cringe-worthy. The one word that I came away from this film with concerning Roger Moore was: tired. He was so tired, his performance was lazy and he simply looked bored to death doing every single scene; at times it was like he couldn't be bothered acting with anybody - he just wanted it to all be over with.

I could sympathize.

Then there's the matter of Tanya Roberts. Former model and "Charlie's Angel", not to mention lead character in 1984's Sheena, Roberts is no actress. She has the charisma and expressive qualities of a mannequin and isn't a shade on the likes of Honor Blackman or Barbara Bach, for that matter.

Oh, but we must mention the villains of the piece: as the evil Zorin, Christopher Walken gives one of the most stiff performances of his career. This was originally intended as a role for David Bowie (who declined) and Walken, made up with blond hair and pale features, at least looks somewhat like David Bowie. When it comes to a menacing villain, he did much better at that in many other movies. Here, he just imitates a nervous David Bowie. That's it.

And Grace Jones...this was the second year in a row that she had a big part in a major movie. The year before she stood alongside Arnold Schwarzenegger in Conan The Destroyer (one of my favorite films) as a fierce Amazonian warrior. Here as Zorin's hench-woman May Day, Grace is too subdued, too bland, not really very intimidating. She just isn't Grace Jones-ish enough.

It's been said that she and Moore didn't get along very well during shooting. No wonder: one didn't really want to be there and the other was more used to getting wild and crazy. Neither one was getting what they wanted - why should they be happy?

I have to take a moment to give shouts out to Lois Maxwell (Moneypenny), Desmond Llewellyn (Q) and Walter Gotell (Russian General Gogol); all regular fixtures in this series and enough to elicit a smile of recognition at least when they come on-screen. In the case of A View to a Kill, however, they don't give the same joy as before. It's as if their performances are just token gestures - they're just...there. Sad, especially since this would be the beloved Maxwell's last take as Moneypenny.

This movie is such a poor example of a James Bond film, in fact, there aren't even any good gadgets! I mean, what the hell; everyone remembers the cool gadgets that Bond got from Q to use against the bad guys and all. Here, all Bond has are:

* An electronic lock-picking credit card,

* A razor that detects planted bugs,

* Sunglasses that allow you to see through tinted windows,

* A cigarette case that makes copies,

* A ring camera.

...and that's all he gets.

And they are all used rather arbitrarily - Q doesn't even get to introduce them; Bond just takes them out of his pocket as needed.

In fact, Q doesn't do much of anything here. All he does is play with a little RC car/robot and give a grade-school level explanation of how computer microchips work. I usually enjoy it when the technology described in a Bond movie is more advanced than I can comprehend. With A View to a Kill, I felt kind of gypped that everything Q was saying I'd heard before.

That's really angering, the way A View to a Kill takes away everything you ever loved about a James Bond movie and replaces it with a script that would be contrived as a made-for-TV movie. Even Robert Vaughn would hesitate at being involved with this.

This is not James Bond. This is not exciting. This is not a good spy movie. This is not even basic entertainment. This is not even worth the commercial interruptions it would get on TV.

If Ian Fleming were alive today, he would sue Cubby Broccoli (if Cubby were alive today) for every penny he had because of this. Or at least punch him dead in the face.

If you haven't seen A View to a Kill, don't. If you have seen A View to a Kill recently, quick; watch From Russia with Love to cleanse your palate.

And if you see A View to a Kill on DVD for real cheap and are wondering if you should buy it, by all means do.

A View to a Kill's DVD makes for a great drink coaster.

As far as a movie experience goes...you'd be better off watching a documentary featuring a freshly-painted wall.

That wall would have far more talent than Tanya Roberts, anyway.

The Last Movie (1971)

I'd put this review off for a long time after having finally received this movie, but today I just read that Dennis Hopper is supposedly in his last days, health-wise, so I decided what better way to give props to the man than to review a movie that was - for better or worse - all him.

Now granted, Hopper not only directed and starred in Easy Rider, which I'll get to in a minute, but also directed films like Out of the Blue and Colors, and was featured in such important films as Apocalypse Now, Cool Hand Luke, True Grit, Hoosiers and Blue Velvet, so he should in no way, shape or form be dismissed as a hack actor or film-maker. He isn't. The plain fact of things was that by this point in life, things just came together in a way that...well...let's just get to the review and you'll see what I mean.

The Last Movie was an endeavor that came hot on the heels of Hopper's previous directorial triumph Easy Rider, a film that was itself about life in upheaval, youth in revolt, times of uncertainty and the closing moments of the 1960s, where nothing was certain and no one knew what was coming next. And drugs.

The studios were, of course, flabbergasted that such an ungainly thing could have received the kudos, the box office and the respect for director/writer/star Hopper that came from it - this was a movie that spoke to a generation and it was artfully done.

Maybe this guy is onto something, the studio suits thought.

Maybe this Hopper has his finger on the pulse of the kids nowadays.

Maybe we should give him a truckload of money to make another one of these Easy Rider-type things that cater to the youth of America and can get us another huge box-office payday.

...okay, maybe they didn't say that verbatim, but that's what happened.

So BBS Productions (a division of Universal Pictures) lured Hopper away from Columbia Pictures with lotsa bucks and the promise of full creative control over his next film. All they needed was a movie.

At least Hopper followed through.

The Last Movie details the life and times of a Hollywood stunt man named Kansas (Hopper) who, once production wraps on a troubled Western filmed in Peru, stays behind to be with a local beauty (Stella Garcia) and also observes the villagers who, inspired by the filming of said Western, construct their own wood cameras and boom mics to film their own live-action movie, substituting the blank guns used in the Western with live ammo in their own guns, leading to bloodshed and violence.

Now right there is a plot description that would sound like a pretty straightforward movie, am I wrong? Didn't turn out that way, though....

Thing is, conceived as this was, it was accepted initially by BBS Productions but, once the original choice for the lead - Montgomery Clift - died, BBS lost interest with Hopper taking over lead acting chores and dropped the project. Of course, Universal picked up the reins and things went on. Again, for better or worse.

Here is where things get kind of hairy: by the time filming began on this project Hopper was already heavily into drugs and he conceived the story for Last Movie while dazed and confused, so to speak. So while the story (co-written with Stewart Stern, a writer famous for Rebel Without A Cause and The Ugly American) was simple enough, there was a certain disjointed feel that, while it worked for Easy Rider, here felt just like what it was - disjointed scenes struggling for artistic integrity. There were scenes that told a story, to be sure, just not all of it was the same story.

For a few minutes, the Peru Western is shown; then some scenes showing talks between Hopper and some Hollywood types are shown; then the villagers are shown rattling around in bamboo carts with wooden cameras and microphones in tow; then back to the Western; then some travelogue scenes of breath-taking Peruvian mountain vistas; and just to toss another form of disjuncture into the works, some scenes depicting Hopper and some others going on a trek into the mountains to search for gold.

Round it out with some other scenes that are quite obviously shot behind-the-scenes of this very film and chop it all up at random, splice it together at random and there you have it - one hour and forty-eight minutes of artistic pretension...and you know it's artistic pretension because they don't even show the title for the film until about 30 minutes in.

Choppy as it is there is at least the bare bones of a story here, and some flashes of interesting dialogue between Hopper and Garcia and between Hopper and the Hollywood suits. The thing about it is, there are so many flashbacks and flash-forwards and flashbacks from the flash-forwards to the present that a sense of time is absolutely lost and the viewer is left wondering if they are as stoned as Hopper apparently was during this endeavor. Disjuncture is not just an after-effect of watching The Last Movie, it is a plot point. At least with Easy Rider, there was a flow of story to follow.

There is beauty in this film, to be sure. Cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs worked with Hopper on Easy Rider and again contributes value and grandness to the look of this movie. The fog settling into the valleys, the gorgeous panorama of Peru and the various exotic locales all are shown to their utmost. It's not Kovacs' fault that it is strong service to a weak cause. In the case of The Last Movie, the beautiful cinematography is like a fresh coat of paint on a Yugo.

It is said that Hopper wanted to shoot in Mexico originally but the studio refused, then Hopper decided to shoot in Chinchero, Peru - Chinchero being this film's title at one point. The reason he decided on shooting in Peru? Apparently a friend of Hopper's told him about this strain of psychedelic mushroom that grew in the region that he was determined to try.

A shooting location decided by the availability of drugs? Stranger things have happened in Hollywood. Who knows if the story is even true - but given the circumstances of Hopper's life at the time, I wouldn't doubt it.

There's this matter of pretension on Hopper's part, however. The Last Movie has so much disjuncture (there's that word again) and title cards thrown in at random intervals like any given art film that Hopper comes across less a voice of a generation and more the stuffy art snob that he just one movie ago stood as a bastion against. Art for art's sake? Prolly not.

Then there's the cast. At least Hopper was able to assemble a group of actors - some of them his friends - to be in a movie that promised the same kind of counter-culture thrills as his previous hit. Who in their right mind would not want to be a part of that? Faces the likes of Peter Fonda (naturally), Michael Anderson Jr., Toni Basil, John Phillip Law, Tomas Milan, James Mitchum, Russ Tamblyn, Dean Stockwell, Kris Kristofferson (who also contributed "Me and Bobby McGee" to the soundtrack), and directors such as Henry Jaglom and Samuel Fuller bounce across the screen for a few minutes each, vying for time against the assemblage of scenes that hold no context or possess any more symbolism than as images to hold our attention, waiting for something interesting to happen in front of them.

In the end of course, the producers couldn't make heads or tails out of what they saw. Even bringing in some of the younger workers at the studio (the target audience for this "youth film") didn't help matters, since they were as confused by what they saw as everyone else.

So then, after being shown at, and winning no less than the Grand Prize at, the Venice Film Festival, The Last Movie's fate was decided by Hopper's refusal to cut down the lumbering pace of his masterwork so as to be distributed by Universal Independent. Lee Wasserman, executive at Universal, gave the ultimatum that if the film weren't re-cut that The Last Movie would only have limited release in the States and never be shown in Europe. Again, Hopper stuck to his guns and Wasserman - true to his word - stuck to his own. Which is much of the reason why very few people nowadays have ever heard of The Last Movie.

What about it, then? Is The Last Movie a good movie or a bad one?

To tell you the truth, I think it's a good movie, but take into consideration this is the opinion of someone who prizes movies like Frankenstein Island and Monster a Go-Go. This is a movie that is good in the way that watching a huge, pretentious movie collapse under its own weight would be to most of the masochistic viewers out there. Like me.

Then again, most movies I watch had, at one point in their existences, been touted as the be-all-to-end-all, the ultimate in film-making, the greatest achievement in movies since the advent of sound. Battlefield Earth was supposed to be the ultimate science fiction film. The Holcroft Covenant was supposed to be the ultimate thriller. The Beast Within was supposed to be the ultimate horror movie. The Swarm was supposed to be the ultimate disaster film.

And The Last Movie? It was supposed to be the ultimate trip.

And it was.

If you count ego trips, at least.

Hmm. That didn't turn out to be the glowing observation of Dennis Hopper's talent that I hoped. Well, that's art for you.

Brace Yourself: I'm About To Recommend Something....

Okay, let me get something off of my chest first - this may come as a complete shock to you, but I love movies.

(head smack)

It's not simply a matter of loving the mere act of watching movies; I love ownership. Knowing exactly what movie it is that I want to watch. Seeking out that particular movie. Finding it. Getting it. Watching it. Putting it up on my shelf. Watching it again at a later point down the road. Repeating the process.

Which is why I really love it when I can talk about what I am about to talk about now: For you see, with the Internet being what it is, you can find something for just about anyone and any proclivity.

So then it comes as no surprise that I have been able to find a website that caters to my own wants.

Forgive the large print, but it is necessary for you to see I'm serious about recommending one of the best sites in the world for a movie collector such as myself:

swaptree.com

Swaptree is a trading-based site whose philosophy is simple: people come on, bearing books, video games, DVDs and music CDs they no longer want, post them and offer them to trade to someone else on the site who has something that they are wanting instead.

...and believe it or not, I have a few books, CDs and such that I do not even look at anymore. Even a couple of DVDs. SO I have taken them, posted them on Swaptree, made up a "want" list and have, so far, received the following:

Donnie Darko DVD
Hercules in New York DVD
Koyaanisqatsi DVD
"Eat This, Not That!" book
The Avengers DVD
BattleStar: Galactica (1978 movie) DVD
Jaws The Revenge DVD
Star Trek (2009) DVD yep...Star Trek
Halloween: 25 Years of Terror documentary DVD
Elvira's Movie Macabre Double Feature - Blue Sunshine & Monstroid DVD
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen DVD (2-disc)
Challenge of the SuperFriends - Attack of the Legion of Doom DVD
George Lucas in Love DVD
The Producers (1968) DVD
The Haunted World of Edward D. Wood, Jr. documentary DVD
The Greatest Story Ever Told DVD

...and the hits keep on a-comin'!

Being a Swaptree member is certainly exciting; for the cost of postage alone, you can get music or movies or some such that you otherwise may not find. And it's easy and free to join: just a little information and that's it - all you ever pay for is mailing our your item to its recipient. And then you get the thing you want from the other end of the trade.

Seriously, what could be simpler?

Okay, now that you have the address, go to swaptree.com, sign up, dust off those old DVDs and CDs and book and video games and get started swapping!

And hurry; you may have something I want!

Dope out.

- TGWD

In Praise of Edward D. Wood, Jr.

Ladies and germs, it is a plain and simple fact that you can NOT be a fan of the worst of the worst films ever made without knowing about this man to your left.

Edward D. Wood Jr. was a man who became a legendary symbol of film-making and film-writing only after he died in 1978, but isn't that always the way it goes? True genius is never appreciated when you're alive.

It wasn't like he made the world tremble with the might and majesty of his movies, but rather he made people collectively scratch their heads in bewilderment. Quite an accomplishment in and of itself, and he did it all with a weapon some may call incompetence...but what does the rest of the world know?

Wood was a decorated Marine and, as the most famous story goes, even wore a red bra and panties beneath his uniform during many battles. Small wonder, then, that some of Wood's most telling stories he ended up writing as a civilian were titled "Death of a Transvestite", "Killer in Drag", "The Gay Underworld", "Black Lace Drag" and "A Study of Fetishes and Fantasies". Sure, he was a Marine and all, but get him near angora and all bets were off....

Anyway, you can read all about Wood's life and exploits elsewhere, the point of this posting is WHY you should take any time at all caring about Wood.

I'll tell you why: Wood may have created the worst films ever made, but at least he tried. That's right; he did his very best at making films he felt strongly about - films that he felt were worth making. And yes, even when he had to settle for sub-standard effects, below-par actors, one take at the most and funding secured only when he had to, say, have his cast baptized by the local church...he did what it took.

Who else in their right mind would not only have hired actors the likes of a 300-pound wrestler like Tor Johnson, a low-wattage actor like Paul Marco, a way-off-the-mark "psychic" like Criswell and a has-been star like Bela Lugosi...but give them steady work on top of that?

Who else could make a film about a man struggling with his inner torment of being a transvestite (Glen or Glenda?), follow it with a tale of a mad scientist planning on ruling the world with elongated men (Bride of the Monster) and continue on with grave robbers from outer space (Plan 9 From Outer Space), only to end his career making low-budget porn films?

And who, I ask you - WHO - could have such a fanatical following that he had an award-winning film made about his life and times (Ed Wood) that got an Oscar win for Martin Landau as Bela Lugosi and to this day has parades and conventions in his honor where people from all walks of life join together and even dress like characters from his films?

One man. One.

I think it goes without saying that Edward D. Wood Jr. was unappreciated in his lifetime - even ridiculed, one might say. No one can deny that his movies have more than their share of mistakes, ridiculous scenes, bad acting and dubious directorial choices. And not a one of his actors really looked comfortable mouthing dialogue the likes of this:

"Spaceships? You mean the kind from up there?"

"Pull the string! Life has begin! A story must be told!"

"Inspector Clay's dead! Murdered...and somebody's responsible!"

I mean, even Laurence Olivier couldn't make those lines less laughable, even with an assist from John Gielgud and a rewrite from Bill Shakespeare.

Make that several rewrites.

But Wood brought a certain integrity to his work. Even his most ridiculous works seemed to come from the heart.

You couldn't fault the man for not going with his original intentions from mind to written word to screen.

And it says something about those actors he had with him to the bitter end that they stood in front of his camera, spoke his words and were put through Wood's motions to make a film that may not have made them any richer but, hey, this wasn't just film-making: this was art.

This was a man's blood and sweat.

100% integrity.

In closing, let me just say that if you haven't yet done so, pick up a copy of Plan 9 or Night of the Ghouls or Orgy of the Dead or, better yet, find yourself a copy of the DVD The Haunted World of Edward D. Wood, Jr., a documentary that outlines the man's life about as well as you can possibly expect...right down to the red bra and panties.

This is a life worth celebrating. No doubt in my mind.

Look back in angora, people - celebrate the Wood.

Dope out.

- TGWD