Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I was living in New York briefly last year, and I gave a talk at Columbia. I thought they were the biggest bunch of dumbshit kids, they were all 26, 27 year olds. It was all about the identity of being a writer…. [I wanted to tell them] Learn the rudiments of storytelling, sir. Become less interested in the issue of identity, and talking about writing with other people, and get to the point of publishing a book.

And don't go for this shit about learning on short stories.

James Ellroy, Barnes and Noble Interview

Thursday, September 24, 2009

PLAGUE SEASON

Q: What is the greatest website ever built?

A: www.footinmouthandheadupass.blogspot.com

Q: Really?

A: Abso-fucking-lutely.

Q: What will be the greatest website ever built in the days to come?

A: plagueseason.blogspot.com

Q: Why?

A: Because it encompasses the brilliance, irreverence, puerile humour, entertainment value and philosophical wisdom found at www.footinmouthandheadupass.blogspot.com , yet outdoes it by honing its focus to a lazer-like precision. Plague Season will deal only with crime fiction, crime television, crime film, film noir, and true crime.

Q: Wow, that sounds amazing. Is the site up now?

A: Yes, with TWO all-new, all-spectacular posts.

Q: What about this site? Will it fall into disrepair?

A: Nah, I'd take it down before I'd let it fall into disrepair. But for now it stays up, preserving its function as a catch-all for everything non-crime-related. It will be a better site without my James Ellroy and David Simon obsessions weighing it down from its primary purpose, expression my hatred and frustration at school.

Q: What's that website again?


Q: Awesome. I'm on my way there now!

A: What's the rush?

Q: Sorry?

A: It's the best website ever, but what's the rush? Let's stay and hang out. It's so rare we get a chance to dialog anymore.

Q: Uh, yeah...so...hows the wife and kids.

A: You don't sound like you're too enthusiastic about asking that question.

Q: Sorry. Uh, HEY, How's the wife and kids?

A: That's better. They're at plagueseason.blogspot.com, paying tribute to the genius of that site. As well they should.

Q: It's that good, huh?

A: Brother, it's un-be-fucking-lieveable.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Reveille

by A.E. Housman

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.

Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.

Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
'Who'll beyond the hills away?'

Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.

Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.


Monday, September 21, 2009

Don Crutchfield

Yeeeeaaars ago I read a book called Confessions of a Hollywood P.I. . The book was a sleazy expose of the celebrity clients the private eye worked for, including Michael Jackson, O.J., and others. It was a fun read, but the author's name didn't stick with me.

Now, on the eve of the publication of James Ellroy's Blood's A Rover, I made the connexion. I knew Don Crutchfield was a character in the book, but until I visited his website I didn't realize that Crutchfield had written Confessions of a Hollywood P.I. Ellroy had gotten Crutchfield's permission to turn him into a character in his book.

In other words, the private dick who spent years investigating Eddie Murphy's transsexual hooker fetish, and Elvis's possible reincarnation as a thirteen year old boy, has been transformed into a character in the Underworld: U.S.A. trilogy. How badass is that?

Check out Crutchfield's zany website: www.pi4stars.com . The scenarios for the "Crutch Tv Series" are the best.

His clients included Marlan Brando, The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Charles Bronson (not that he would need it). Subjects of investigation include Michael Jackson, Lisa Marie Presley, Tim Allen, Donald Trump, Roseanne, and O.J. Simpson.

The dude IS a James Ellroy novel.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

The Most Putrescent Dialog ever Committed to Celluloid - Part One

Joey: [Discussing at Meg's on the tornadoes they have seen so far] No, that was a good size twister. What was it, an F3?
Bill: Solid F2.
Melissa: See, now you have lost me again.
Bill: It's the Fujita scale. It measures a tornado's intensity by how much it eats.
Melissa: Eats?
Bill: Destroys.
Laurence: That one we encountered back there was a strong F2, possibly an F3.
Beltzer: Maybe we'll see some 4's.
Haynes: That would be sweet!
Bill: 4 is good. 4 will relocate your house very efficently.
Melissa: Is there an F5?
[Everyone goes dead silent]
Melissa: What would that be like?
Jason 'Preacher' Rowe: The Finger of God.
Melissa: None of you has ever seen an F5?
Bill: ...Just one of us.
[Looks upstairs, indicating Jo]

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

DEAR KWENTIN I HAVE IDEA FOR MOVIE WILL BLOW URR MIND!!! ITS CALLED (WAIT FOR IT...) "UNSCROOPULOUS SCALLIWAGZ"


IT HAVE SAMUEL L JACKSON DELIVER POP CULTURE MONO-LOG AND LONG SPEECH BY CHRISTOPHER WALKIN' ABOUT HOW HE IS THE BADDEST AND TOTALLY NOT PART BLACK. PAM GREER PLAYS LARGE PART TOO. DOESN'T THIS SOUND AWESOME?


AT THE END BRUCE WILLIS RIDES AN EXPLODES-SION INTO A NAZY BUNKER AND BLOW UP THE NAZZYS WITH MICHAEL BAY STYLE ASS-WHOMPIN'

ALSO A SCENE WHERE EVERYBODY POINTS THERE GUNS AT EVERYBODY ELSE!!! OMG RIGHT?

KWENTIN U ARE MY FAVRITE DIREKTOR NEXT TO THE BOONDOCK SAINTS GUY (U AND HE SHOULD TODALLY COLLABOR-ART) YOUR MOVIES ARE SO AWESOME BECAUSE DUDE I SLIKE TALKING HOW WE REAL PEOPLE TALK AND THEN BLLLLLLLOOOOOMM UMA THEREMIN FIGHTS LIKE SIXTY NINJAS.

UNSCROOPULOUS SCALLIWAGS WILL BE EXACTLY LIKE YOUR MOVIES ONLY LIKE AN HOMAGE LIKE YOU DO HOMAGES TO LIKE SERGIO LIONY AND THE FRENCH NEW WAVE DUDES. ONLY IT'LL BE TO YOU!!!

IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, IN THE BACKGROUND OF THIS SCENE I WROTE WHERE MICHAEL MADSEN HACKS A GUY'S EAR OFF (SUBTLE HOMAGE TO RESERVOIR DAWGS HOMEZ!!! ...EXCEPT INSTEAD OF A COP MY GUY'S CUTTING THE EAR OFF A NAZZY BEFORE HE SCALPS HIM) THERE'LL BE A TV PLAYING PULP FICTION! THAT'S THE BEST TRIBUTE AND YOU DESERVE IT.


YOUR AFFEKTIONITE NUMBER ONE FAN AND COMPADRE,

SAM

BY THE WAY, I FORGIVE YOU FOR FOUR ROOMS.






Monday, September 14, 2009

You Gotta Read This

From Slate: Ron Rosenbaum on Genius

And an amazing blog post on How 'Auteurs' fuck up cinema.

The Roseunbaum piece examines what it means to be a genius in these inglourious times, using Richard Linklater's new Orson Welles film as a jumping-off point. He argues that genius is pretty much dead, which I wouldn't necessarily agree with--though the more people who approach things from the same position, the fewer geniuses we'll have.

The blog post sort of works the same side of the street from a different angle--a screenwriter talks about the frustration of having egotistical producers and directors mangle scripts out of insecurity. He details how, once the idea of cinema as a collaborative art is thrown out the window, you're at the mercy of the stupid and venal, who will not only rape your script but put the blame on you.

That will be all.


Harlan Ellison on God and Writing



Sunday, September 13, 2009

"Classical music brings back the awe of life to me and the essence of drama, and I grew up digging big, thunderous, important (music). And wanting to create it in my own way. Which could only be the word."


--James Ellroy.



Thursday, September 10, 2009

Coming Out the Other Side

Funny how things go. When you're in the midst of a phase, it doesn't seem like a phase. I think everyone goes through a phase where they think Quentin Tarantino is a genius. And then comes the reaction phase, where you start seeing the films he's cribbed from, and you realize that almost nothing in his films originates with him. One five minute chunk of Pulp Fiction (the ass-rape scene) references Deliverance, Blue Velvet, The Set-Up, Kurosawa, Rio Bravo and the French Nouvelle Vague*.

And yet that Tarantino-hatred is also a phase, brought on more by the slavish Tarantino imitations foisted on us by Tarantino manques (Two Days in the Valley, Anyone?). When you get over the fact that Tarantino regularly pulls off Lufthansa-esque capers of other peoples' films--and it's a hard fact to get over--you realize that he's still a pretty damn great director.

I watched Reservoir Dogs the other day with my brothers. It's been six years or so, and it holds up really well. Ditto Pulp Fiction, though seeing Bruce Willis's boxer slash up a rapist with Toshiro Mifune-like precision and then taunt his partner with John Wayne's famous "You want that gun pick it up...I wish you would" brings on knee-jerk deja vu. But they're undeniably great films, which collectively imagine the personal lives of the criminal underworld (predeating The Sopranos in that regard).

Josh and I saw Inglourious Basterds (I hope I spelled that wrong), which was damn good. Like Tarantino's last film Death Proof, though, the villain runs away with it, to the point where I was uncomfortably rooting for the Nazi. Aside from charasmatic fascists, it also features another plus in my book, the Impromptu Ieadbutt. Though it doesn't unseat the reigning Impromptu Headbutt champion, Bob Hoskins in Mona Lisa, it puts some impressive numbers on the board.

The only films of QT's I'm really not sold on are the Kill Bill movies, which to be honest kind of killed off my Tarantino-rediscovery binge. But I'm determined to get through Jackie Brown, which for a time was my favourite of his films. I still think Samuel L. Jackson got shafted for that--he deserved an Oscar, though he also deserved one for Pulp Fiction.

So that covers that.

* Speaking of phases, writers go through phases where they insist on leaving French words untranslated. It's pretentious, yes, but it also makes you feel smart, so much smarter than if you just wrote "New Wave."

Monday, September 7, 2009

Great Writing 4

Nick Cave's The Death of Bunny Munro comes out September 8. There's a chapter from the audio book, read by Cave himself, available on the Onion website.

Nick Cave, in addition to being a totally badass songwriter, wrote the screenplay for The Proposition, a Cormac McCarthy-esque filmic rampage through Australia in the 1800s. His first novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel, was published by Henry Rollins. It's on my will-read-one-day list.

His writing is evocative--full of mantles of freckles, cloying voices, and humans compared to lampreys. The way he reads it is amazing, too. I just wish the goddamn cover wasn't so hideous--Donnie Darko without the Darko.


I propose a moratorium on rabbits as ironic cover art. We get it, you're dark but don't want to fall into the aesthetic cliches used by metal bands. How about a lizard? They're under-represented.

And here's Nick Cave doing "The Mercy Seat" and "Tupelo" live just because IT'S FUCKING NICK CAVE



Saturday, September 5, 2009

Book Trailers



I think I'm gonna watch this every day until September 22nd.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Harvey Keitel in a commercial for...?

It says it's a commercial for Johnnie Walker, but it seems more like a Tool video with monologue.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Great Writing 3


Soren Kierkegaard, Journals

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Born to Kill: L'Homme Fatale*


It's the hoariest cliche in film noir-dom, the femme fatale. At her best, she blends murder and seduction, corrupting the hero and throwing his neatly-ordered moral world askew. At worst, she's the cackling crone who always manages to produce a revolver when the hero's back is turned, usually from the folds of her shoulder-padded night gown.

It's a sexist construction, sure. Women are far less likely to commit murder...except in postwar Hollywood.

The femme fatale usually doesn't reveal herself as such until later in the film. At first she's just a beautiful woman, usually married, yet sexually available. She appears to be in need, and turns to our hero for help. Deliver this package for me. Keep my name out of the police investigation. Accomplishing this implicates the hero, and soon he's trod down that slippery slope to the point where she's in his arms, trading sex for murder.

Hammett, Chandler and Cain are responsible for the femme fatale**. Hammett wrote the best example, Chandler the worst*** , and Cain the most human. The resulting films--The Maltese Falcon, Murder My Sweet, The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice--are brilliant, but taken as a unity, tell us one thing. Woman, especially sexually active women, are fucking evil harpies who will betray you given half a chance.

What's interesting about Born to Kill is that it reverses the femme fatale cliche, in three ways. First, the sexual predator is male. Laurence Tierney seduces a pair of San Francisco socialites, one for money, the other seemingly for love. He exudes the same sexual magnetism as the femme fatale, pulling the women into his web of corruption, turning them against each other. While the bond between him and the Elisha Cook Jr character is never specified as more than friendship, Cook is willing to murder an old woman on Tierney's behalf, which speaks perhaps to an attraction, if only one way. The sex object of the film is undoubtedly Tierney.
Second, unlike the classic femme fatale, Tierney's evil is revealed early in the film, when he beats to death the boyfriend of an old flame. This sets the viewer against him from the get-go (okay, not for Josh and me, but for the theoretical viewer, who likely isn't enamored with a guy landing Tyson-esque uppercuts on someone half his size).
BorntokillTierneystick.jpg picture by BrandoBardot
What we're seeing in Born to Kill is a femme fatale's-eye-view of the world, where the goal is seduction, acquisition of power, and murder. Not unlike Richard III, we're put in the corner of the bad guy; the entertainment comes from how far his depravity is allowed to go before he gets his inevitable comeuppance.

Third, the detective in most femme fatale stories is usually the sexual normative. By that I mean, an attractive man who is in control of his sex drives. For instance, in The Maltese Falcon, we have the sexual normative Sam Spade at the centre, with the fat (Sidney Greenstreet's Gutman), the gay (Peter Lorre's Cairo), the weak (Elish Cook Jr--who else?) and the woman (Bridgid O'Shaughnessy) arrayed around him. He is the hero partly because his sexual desires are in check and he knows his role. This holds for most films noirs--the detective is "a good man in a bad world," as Chandler said.

In Born to Kill, the detective is a fat bastard, willing to sell out his client for a better deal. He ends up turning Tierney and company in not from any attack of scruples, but because they won't pony up the dough he needs. Walter Slezak presents no sexual normative whatsoever--most people in the film can barely stand his company. Worse, he's willing to pose as a menial dishwasher to glean information on Tierney and Claire Trevor. Can you imagine Bogey doing that? Slezak has a social fluidity and a moral cloudiness that puts him at odds with `the Marlowes and Spades and Keyses.
borntokilltrevor.jpg picture by BrandoBardot
Born to Kill inverts and subverts the tropes of the film noir genre, showing a sexually irresistable man leading an unsuspecting woman to damnation. Claire Trevor, bouncy in Stagecoach, attractive enough in Murder My Sweet, and not quite the broken down lush she would play a year later in Key Largo, plays the Fred MacMurray part perfectly. Tierney is menacing and magnetic. And Elisha Cook Jr does what he does best--ruin everything through weakness and incompetence. Worth a gander.

*Note that Robert Wise's name didn't come up once in this post.

** What of Lady MacBeth, you ask? (No one ever asks.) I wouldn't characterize her as a femme fatale, because while she does advocate murder, she does it for the hero's benefit, and feels bad about it later. The classic femme fatales are out for themselves and feel nothing.

***Chandler's FFs are also the most prevalent--try and find a Chandler novel where it ISN'T the woman in the end, I double dog dare you. Chandler was married to a woman much older than him, and might have resented it, just a teensy bit.