Thursday, April 5, 2012

Of death and baseball...


"Death is a part of baseball."
"Oh, yeah, it's the main part." 

-Two executives on The Simpsons

Today was Opening Day for the Chicago Cubs. (They lost.) But being a living impaired American, I could not help but meditate upon the connection between death and baseball. Here is a song by the late great singer-songwriter Steve Goodman which sums it all up:



Goodman's song is funny and sad and true at the same time, and it will probably not surprise you to learn that the man himself was terminally ill and near the end when this was filmed more than a quarter-century ago. I think the fact that the Cubs lost today only makes it more poignant.

Yes, Steve, they still play the blues in Chicago. And probably always will. RIP.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Thoughts on 'Blood For Dracula' and its brilliant title sequence

An assortment of foreign posters advertising Blood For Dracula.

By some accounts, there are more films about Dracula than about any other fictional character. The Guinness people say he's been portrayed in a staggering 272 films, even more than Sherlock Holmes (who's been portrayed a mere 254 times). 

Of all these cinematic incarnations of the famous bloodsucker, perhaps none have affected me as deeply as Paul Morrissey's 1974 horror-comedy opus, Blood For Dracula (a.k.a. Andy Warhol's Dracula, after its world-famous producer). In this bizarre and hilarious film, a companion piece to Morrissey's Flesh For Frankenstein, the famous vampire is portrayed by the eccentric and beloved German thespian Udo Kier as a frail, weak creature who barely has the strength to walk and who is bossed around by his own manservant, Anton (Arno Jeuring). 

In desperate need of virgin blood but scorned by the people of his own country, Dracula makes a last-ditch journey to Italy in search of fresh victims and winds up as a house guest in the crumbling home of the Di Fiores, a fading aristocratic family with four comely daughters. Morrissey deconstructs the Dracula legend and uses it as a platform to satirize morality, class warfare, and even politics. The film is set shortly after the Russian Revolution, and the Di Fiores' gardener (a never-better Joe Dallesandro) is a bolshevik who views the Count as a relic of a bygone era.

What really gives the film its kick, however, is Udo Kier's performance in the title role. This is a Dracula unlike any I've seen in motion picture history: frail and vulnerable, a shadow of his former self. Paul Morrissey introduces us to this unconventional Dracula with an astonishing opening sequence, all done in one take and set to the melancholy, nostalgic music of Claudio Gizzi. If you'll indulge me, I'd like to walk you through this sequence step by step. Keep in mind that the image directly below is the very first thing you see in the film.

The face of Dracula: pale, haunted, vulnerable.
He begins to add makeup, starting with greasepaint eyebrows.
He adds color to his lips. For the first time, we see his fangs.
Dracula paints on his famous black hair. In reality, it is white.
Though he has no reflection, he has been looking in a mirror.
The chair pulls back, seemingly of its own accord.
Dracula exits the room in shadow. All this has been one shot.

For a low-budget film shot quickly and written as it was being made, Blood For Dracula is remarkably accomplished and compelling, telling a story which is thought-provoking, disturbing, amusing, and arousing. The opening sequence perfectly encapsulates Morrissey's particular take on the familiar character, and it's all achieved with careful framing, evocative music, and a pitch-perfect performance by Kier, whose eyes and facial expression communicate so much without one word being spoken.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Fred Flintstone vs. George Jetson: Choose carefully, gentle reader

Which of these men leads a happier life?

Who would you rather be, George Jetson or Fred Flintstone?

I bet you said George Jetson. It seems like a no-brainer, right? I mean, George lives in a futuristic world of rocket cars, robots, and household appliances that do almost everything for you. Fred, meanwhile, lives in the Stone Age and doesn't even have shoes... or pants, for that matter. And George, with his cushy desk job at Spacely Sprockets, is clearly in a higher tax bracket than working-class Fred, who toils away at the quarry under the glowering eye of Mr. Slate. George is white collar, and Fred is blue collar—literally and figuratively.

But hold on, gentle reader! The choice may not be so obvious after all. You may have been so dazzled by all the sci-fi wizardry on display in The Jetsons that you failed to notice a simple truth: Fred Flintstone is a much happier man than George Jetson. Fred, in fact, is a deeply contented, untroubled man who seems wholly satisfied with his life (hence his carefree catchphrase, "Yabba Dabba Doo!"), while George frequently seems edgy and neurotic, possibly suffering from ulcers or sleep problems. 
Why might this be? Well, I have a few theories:

1. Fred has friends and a social life; George doesn't.

Barney and Fred at a meeting of the Water Buffalos. Don't they look happy?

The Flintstones is based on Jackie Gleason's classic sitcom The Honeymooners (1955-1956), while The Jetsons is modeled after Blondie, which started as a comic strip in 1930 and inspired a series of films (1938-1950). The voice of Jane Jetson was provided by actress Penny Singleton, who played the title character in the Blondie movies. But something important got lost along the way in translating Blondie from one medium to another: male friendship.

Like The Honeymooners, The Flintstones features a strong male friendship. Instead of Ralph and Ed, we have Fred and Barney. But while Blondie's suburban protagonist Dagwood Bumstead has a best friend, the uninspiring yet reliable Herb Woodley, there exists no such corresponding "best friend" character on The Jetsons. George Jetson does not seem to have a friend in the world. He has no social life away from work or home either. Again, this is in sharp contrast to Fred Flintstone, who bowls regularly with Barney (and other men his age, like Joe Rockhead) and is a member of a fraternal organization, The Loyal Order of Water Buffalos. These elements, again, were taken from The Honeymooners. Ralph, too, was a bowler and he and Ed belonged to the Raccoon Lodge.

Why has George Jetson been denied any meaningful friendships or social interaction in his life?

2. Fred has a more satisfying home life than George.

If you study the opening title sequences of The Flintstones and The Jetsons, you will see that they are mirror opposites of one another. Here, take a moment to watch both of them:



Notice that the first clip is about Fred leaving work and rejoining his family—and being overjoyed to do so—while the second is about George being separated from his family one member at a time before finally arriving at work, where he immediately falls asleep at his desk. 

In their book Harry & Wally's Favorite TV Shows (1989), TV critics Harry Castleman and Walter Podrazik pointed out that Fred "has no real problems." They meant that as a complaint, but I think it's part of what makes the character so appealing. Fred, like his clearest latter-day successor, Homer Simpson, simply loves his life and his family with abandon. Certainly, Fred and Wilma argue a lot more than George and Jane Jetson do, but I think this is just indicative of the fact that the Flintstones are passionate, vital people. They're alive, for god's sake! Meanwhile, there is something weirdly distant and cold about the Jetson marriage. Jane seems perfectly nice, but she is somewhat vacant and detached. I'm guessing a lot goes unsaid in this family.

Fred and George are both parents, but this fact causes George much more anxiety. Fred does not seem to be too hands-on in the raising of little Pebbles, but he is devoted to her and loves her unconditionally. With George and his kids, the relationships are more anxiety-plagued and complex. His daughter, Judy, is an adolescent—often a rocky time for parent/child interaction. George hates Judy's music, hates her friends (especially her boyfriends), doesn't understand her slang, and probably doesn't feel like he can communicate with her meaningfully and effectively. 

It's a mixed blessing, then, that Judy has the same pleasant but vacant temperament as her mother. George is spared from any emotional confrontations with his daughter, but over the long haul this may have a numbing effect on him. Feeling alienated from Judy, George naturally gravitates toward his son Elroy. But even here, George feels insecure. He recognizes that Elroy's intellect is quickly outstripping his own, and he worries that Elroy will soon "outgrow" his old man. This accounts for George's many ploys to win Elroy's respect, such as the sad "Nimbus the Great" fiasco (from the "Elroy's Pal" episode) in which George dresses as one of Elroy's TV idols. 

When it comes to being a husband and father, George has less in common with Fred Flintstone and much more in common with Lester Burnham, the burned-out suburbanite in American Beauty.

3. Fred feels more connected to his work and his environment than George ever will.

George Jetson at Spacely Sprockets: Just a cog in a machine.

What do we know about George Jetson's job? Well, we know he works for a company called Spacely Sprockets. Consider the humble sprocket, dear reader. It is a metal wheel with teeth, and its job is to mesh with a chain or track. It is worth noting that Spacely Sprockets' main competitor is Cogswell Cogs. Cogs, of course, have a great allegorical significance. To be a "cog in a machine" is to be merely a small part of a much larger operation. This is what George Jetson is: a human sprocket, a living cog. He's not even involved in the production of the actual, physical sprockets. Instead, he has some ill-defined position at what seems to be an isolated workstation staring at a monitor all day much like a present-day cubicle drone. 

George is not only alienated from his work, he is alienated from his own environment. Think about it. George Jetson lives in a hermetically-sealed world. He spends all his time indoors, totally cut off from nature in his sterile, artificial world of emotionless gadgets and recirculated air.

Now what about Fred Flintstone? Fred, as we have established, works at the local rock quarry in the open air. The rocks from the quarry are likely used to build the homes and structures of Bedrock, so Fred can easily see the results of his labors. More importantly, Fred can experience the natural world thriving all around him. Sunshine, rain, snow, the feel of grass, fresh air—these are luxuries enjoyed by Fred Flintstone but totally unknown to George Jetson. And Fred doesn't really seem to be hurting in the technology department. If anything, the radios, telephones, televisions, and airplanes of The Flintstones are more remarkable than any gadget seen on The Jetsons.

Which is your path, reader? The ancient past or the distant future? Select with caution.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Just what we need for tornado season -- an angry, rapping tornado!

"I'll get your little behind!"

Every once in a while, citizens, you run across something on the Internet that you can't believe isn't already famous. This is going to be one of those. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you... MISTA TWISTA!


This strutting, vainglorious rapping tornado puppet is the product of the Red Cross Central Illinois Chapter. According to them, Mista Twista "visits local schools and teaches children how to avoid danger during the Midwestern tornado season." Oh, why couldn't I have been this lucky as a child? All we got back then was a few crummy handouts. But the good news here is that Mista Twista's hip-hop-based threats appeal to young and old alike! And that beat of his is pretty badass, too.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

The existential pain of Oscar the Grouch

A sad-looking Oscar the Grouch contemplates his existence.

Think for a moment about Oscar the Grouch, the green-furred, trashcan-dwelling resident of Sesame Street. Despite his famously cantankerous nature, he seems like a happy, confident guy doesn't he? I'm starting to wonder, though, if perhaps his grouchiness is merely a defense mechanism for his very real inner pain. He is very much ostracized from the rest of society on Sesame Street, and I think this has led to deep feelings of insecurity. As a living impaired American, I can certainly empathize with Oscar's situation.

And that's why I have created this little photographic tribute to Sad Oscar.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

R.I.P. Davy Jones of the Monkees

I was saddened today to learn of the death at age 66 of Davy Jones of The Monkees. Please, take a minute and a half to watch Davy's completely charming audition tape. I believe the offscreen voice belongs to producer/director Bob Rafelson.



RIP, Davy.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Always working for a concept: Father Guido Sarducci and the search for God

Father Guido Sarducci and James Belushi chat about God in an airport lounge on SNL.

Hello, long-neglected blog readers! Recently, while browsing through Saturday Night Live clips online, I found a remarkable sketch from the show's 1983 season called "Airport Friend." Despite that unpromising title, it contains one of the more profound ideas I've heard on a comedy show.

In this scene, Father Guido Sarducci is stranded at an airport, waiting very impatiently for his flight. He reacts badly to news of an additional delay, throwing down his bag and kicking an ashtray. Enter Bob Armstrong (Jim Belushi), a pleasant-tempered doofus in a tacky suit. The fictional airline, TransEastern, has paid Bob to be the priest's "friend" during the delay. At first, Sarducci is brusque with the phony friend and tries to shoo him away, but eventually he takes pity on the man, who is just trying to do his job. Belushi explains that he works for jerks. Sarducci says he works for jerks, too, at the Vatican. Everyone in the world, they agree, works for jerks.

The exception is the Pope, who works directly for God. God isn't a jerk, says Sarducci. God is a concept. Yes, this is a phrase that also crops up in John Lennon's song, "God." And that's what leads Father Guido Sarducci to his epiphany: "You can put a man on the moon, but we'll always be working for a concept."

Recently The AV Club did a nice article about profound comedy. The usual names came up -- George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Louis C.K. -- but one name absent from the roll call was Don Novello a.k.a. Father Guido Sarducci. Honestly, Novello has probably made me ponder the big questions of life and death more than any other comedian has. I've listened to his 1986 album Breakfast in Heaven dozens of times. I wish I could find a video for the title track from that LP, a thoughtful and very funny monologue about the afterlife. But in lieu of that, here's Father Guido's concept for a "five minute university" in which he teaches us that "God is everywhere. Why? Because He likes you."



The AV Club's Nathan Rabin once pointed out that the Sarducci character "represents the very humane, approachable face of the Church." He's the one comedian who makes me hope that God actually does exist.