crazy game

My son has become enamored with all things Japanese. He recently visited the Land of the Rising Sun and it only heightened his admiration and love for the country and its culture — especially its pop culture. And Japan is brimming with pop culture. A lot of it is a happy amalgam of traditional Japanese lore mixed with a skewed interpretation of American influence and iconography. This produces an interesting blend that is compelling and flashy, but uniquely Japanese.

My son recently enjoyed? endured? experienced? a screening of a 1985 Japanese cult science-fiction musical comedy called The Legend of the Stardust Brothers. The movie — all 100 confounding minutes of it — started life as a concept album by a non-existent Japanese pop group called The Stardust Brothers. Inspired by the quirky The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the even quirkier The Phantom of the Paradise, Japanese singer-songwriter-producer Haruo Chicada wrote a dozen songs and released the album in 1980. A few years later, filmmaker Makoto Tezuka (son of manga legend Osamu Tezuka, creator of Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion and a zillion other beloved Japanese animated properties) adapted Chicada's work into a live-action, big-screen presentation.

Although my son got to watch The Legend of the Stardust Brothers in a proper theater, I managed to track down the film on one of the free streaming services available though my cable television provider. On a Sunday afternoon, after watching the Phillies drop an early season game to the beleaguered Washington Nationals, I spoke the magic words — "The Legend of the Stardust Brothers" — into the voice-activated search feature on my cable box remote control. My TV screen came alive with several options on which I could view my son's cinematic recommendation. With a few quick navigations, I settled back to watch The Legend of the Stardust Brothers.

The film is about.... um.... it's about... well, it's sort of.... I mean.... it's kind of.....

Honestly, I don't know what it was about. I watched it. At its conclusion, one hour and forty minutes after it started, I wasn't quite sure what I had just seen. Admittedly, it was filled with catchy songs. There were two main characters who seem to be just as bewildered as I was. There was a girl and there was a guy with dark glasses and thick sideburns. There were two bumbling inept security guards. There was a guy who looked like David Bowie. There were girls in shiny jumpsuits. There were monsters. There were gangsters. There was a little cartoon. It was colorful and fast-moving. It featured a lot of jumpy camera work and quick cuts. Did I mention that the songs were catchy? 

Was it bad? No, not really. It held my interest, from a curiosity standpoint. Was it good? No, not really. It was cute, but nearly plotless. The budget for this movie looked to be about 261 yen. (That approximately $1.80 American). But, the songs sure were catchy.

a dedication

I saw The Phantom of the Paradise in its original theatrical release in 1974. I loved it. It was the coolest movie I had ever seen. Granted, I was 13 and it was replaced on my "Gauge of Coolness" just a few moths later by the Who's silver screen adaption of  the rock opera Tommy. I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show after its midnight showing buzz reached me in my sheltered Northeast Philadelphia cocoon. I ventured down to the exotic world of Philadelphia's notorious South Street to witness the rice-throwing, talk-back-to-the-screen spectacle for myself. Years later, I could definitely see the influence both of these films had on the filmmakers in bringing The Legend of the Stardust Brothers to fruition.

After the final credits scrolled to darkness, I called my son. When he answered the phone, I merely said: "What did you just make me watch?" This echoed my son's own retort after I made him sit by my side to view my newly-purchased DVD of The Phantom of the Paradise approximately two decades ago.

I guess now we're even.

The songs were catchy, though.

The Legend of the Stardust Brothers is streaming for free on Freevee and Tubi.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

monster mash

I love horror movies. Or rather.... I loved horror movies. Frankenstein, Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Mummy... all of them. I watched them as a kid on my family's black-and-white TV on Saturday afternoons. They were campy and creepy at the same time. Since most of them were made in the 40s, they all had this strange — yet endearing — quality. Like the actors knew they were in a movie and were delivering scripted lines. It was like watching a play. It made things fun and not too scary. 

My love of horror movies progressed to the low-budget camp of the 1950s with beings from outer space and teenage werewolves. The acting was bad. The make-up was bad. The special effects were amateurish. But I loved them just the same. In some of the Japanese imports of the late 50s and early 60s, I swear I could see the metal pull of a zipper at the base of Godzilla's neck and he tore down an obviously miniature elevated train set in a faux downtown Tokyo.

The 60s, however, brought the real horror. England's notorious Hammer Studios offered garish takes on classic tales. Under the capable lead of Christopher Lee, Dracula, Prince of Darkness splashed vivid red blood across  the screen at a Saturday afternoon matinee, the likes of which I had never seen before. On television, I cowered with my mom as we watched the shadow of Norman Bates slash poor Marion Crane to bits in her shower in Psycho. I still maintain that Psycho is among the scariest movies I have even seen.

Of course, horror films grew more provocative and more daring and more bloody as directors pushed their limits and audiences demanded more. So-called "slasher films" became the norm with Halloween and Friday the 13th and A Nightmare of Elm Street (and all of their imitators) monopolizing theatres. Anti-heroes Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers became icons, beloved among horror movie fans. I enjoyed the initial entries into these long-running (and lucrative) film franchises, but I lost interest after the umpteenth sequel presented essentially a retelling of the original movie.

I like an interesting and clever story. That grabs my attention. I don't care to see someone getting their limbs slowly separated from their torso by a crazed madman with unexplained super-human strength and an even less concise non-sensical backstory. The current trends in horror movies tend to present a skimpy outline of a plot and rely more heavily on overly gory, in-your-face exercise in torture, sadism and suffering.

Years ago, I saw a movie called Hostel. Actually, I saw part of a movie called Hostel. I was only able to stick with it until a man was strapped into a chair and various parts of his body were removed by a masked man wielding a power saw. I don't know how Hostel ended and I really don't care. Hostel, no thanks to me, was very popular. It spawned sequels and copycats — none of which I have seen or have any intention of seeing.

There have been a few recent horror movies I have enjoyed. The Ring was clever. I didn't find it particularly scary, but I appreciated the intelligent story telling. Silence of the Lambs, if that can even be considered a "horror" movie, was taut and spine-tingling, another example of a good story being executed by good actors. Even the Japanese import Audition with its hard-to-watch climax, was well-done and suspenseful in its presentation.

It seems that today's horror movie lover is not particularly discerning. Every new release (and there are a lot of 'em) boasts a similar synopsis as other recent films. A mysterious killer that kills for the sake of killing. A variety of killing methods each designed to produce the most blood, viscera and humiliation of the victim. Overly and gratuitously explicit scenes unfairly and disturbingly equating sex with mutilation. I read a capsulized plot of a recent horror "hit" called Terrifier about a murderous clown named "Art." Art seems to have joined, if not overtaken, the ranks of Freddy and Jason as the new slasher icon. The plot was nauseating, as were the similar plots of Terrifier's two sequels. I have no plans to see Terrifier, Terrifier 2 or Terrifier 3 (when it's released in early October). As long as all the right boxes are checked, the film should do well.

I just want a good old-fashioned horror movie with a monster and a good story and good acting and not a reservoir's worth of blood and guts.

Is that too much to ask?

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

zombie jamboree

While attending the prestigious Parsons School of Design, 20-year old Robert Cummings from the tiny New England burg of Haverhill, Massachusetts founded a noise rock-heavy metal band called White Zombie. He chose the band name (it's the title of a Bela Lugosi movie) as a tribute to his love of horror films, kitschy pop culture and all things macabre and adopted the stage name of "Rob Zombie." The band's catalog includes songs like "Ratmouth," "Shack of Hate" and the lovely "Welcome to Planet Motherfucker," which, curiously, is rarely played at wedding receptions. He developed a persona to go with his new moniker (which he legally changed in 1996), striking an imposing figure in long, unkempt hair, intricate tattoos and conversation peppered with talk of horror films and characters. Alice Cooper and Ozzy Osbourne letting this snotty little upstart slide still doesn't sit well with me.

I am no fan of heavy metal, especially those bands whose lead singer sounds like an angry Cookie Monster over a bone-rattling bass line. I honestly can't tell one band in the genre from another. I'm sure that the leather-clad faithful would say the same thing about the Laurel Canyon contingency, but that's why there's chocolate and vanilla. That said, Rob Zombie is a pretty popular figure among that interesting intersection where hard rock meets Freddie Krueger. He is a platinum album recipient and a Grammy nominee. Obviously, Rob is a creative guy with an expertise (of sorts) in music.

Somewhere along the way, Rob decided to make movies. While I am not well acquainted with his music, I have seen Mr. Zombie's films. Well, not all of them... and the ones that I have seen, I haven't seen all of them all the way through. I watched his notorious House of 1000 Corpses alone. Was it great? I didn't think so. It had its moments. Filled with a troupe of players that would go on to appear in a number of Zombie's subsequent productions, House of 1000 Corpses came off as a loving homage to the cinematic career of William Castle, the so-called "King of the Gimmicks," who made a slew of movies in the 50s and 60s. They were low budget, questionably-acted affairs that were creepy enough to evoke chills and silly enough to evoke laughter. The late Sid Haig as the malevolent clown "Captain Spaulding," grimaced and mugged and did what Sid Haig did best. Zombie even got Academy Award-nominated actress Karen Black to join in the fun. The story was campy and silly and the blood flowed in rivers. Zombie knows his audience and, among those particular circles, it is viewed as a classic. The follow-up, The Devil's Rejects, was — in my opinion — unwatchable. This is based on the fifteen minutes I did watch. The Devil's Rejects ditched its "black humor" approach in favor of a presentation of what has become known as "torture porn," a cringe-inducing genre championed by director Eli Roth. I never got to see how The Devil's Rejects ended or even progressed... and I don't care.

Zombie contributed a faux trailer to Quentin Tarantino's Grindhouse epic, among entries by the afore mentioned Roth and Edgar Wright. Zombie's Werewolf Women of the SS was a funny title with a half-hearted, poorly-executed, instantly-forgettable concept tacked on. I saw it when I saw Grindhouse, one of Tarantino's weaker efforts.

I saw Zombie's foray into the realm of animation in The Haunted World of El Superbeasto. I only subjected myself to this because my friend April Winchell voiced one of the characters and the style of animation was reminiscent of  Tex Avery and John Kricfalusi (of Ren & Stimpy fame). I never made it far enough to hear April's voice acting. I made it approximately ten minutes — five less than I lasted for The Devil's Rejects.

Glutton for punishment that I am, I decided to watch Lords of Salem, Zombie's 2012 take on the spooky world of witchcraft. Starring Zombie's wife Sherri Moon Zombie, this mess was a convoluted mish-mash of creepy for the sake of creepy. All of the boxes were checked — a mysterious recording, a coven of naked witches, weird neighbors and a thin plot tacked on as an afterthought. The current Mrs. Zombie has been cast in ten films to date — nine of which were directed by her husband. She is the motion picture equivalent of Yoko Ono, Linda McCartney and Patti Scialfa. While her acting ability is questionable, her husband is indisputably famous. I stopped my on-demand viewing of Lords of Salem about halfway through with the intent of watching the conclusion at a later time. I did. Three weeks later. Don't ask me what this movie was about. I don't remember. Oh, and I saw Zombie's remake of Halloween. I hated it.

For years now, Rob Zombie has been threatening promising to bring The Munsters to the big screen. Zombie claims to be the beloved 60s sitcom's Number One fan. If he was truly the Number One Fan of the series, he would have let it be. Instead, he announced that he had written a full script and was scouting actors and locations. As expected, Zombie's fan base, chock full of head-banging horror fans — too young to remember The Munsters in first run and only familiar with reruns, remakes and reboots... the last two dubious in their own right — were unsurprisingly ecstatic. "Rob Zombie's Munsters will be great!" they proclaimed on social media. Of course, the overwhelming majority of fans, tired of Hollywood rehashing and "reimagining" their childhood, were rightfully leery of the undertaking.

Zombie's progress on The Munsters was chronicled in great detail across social media. Instagram, Twitter and Facebook were alight with "behind-the-scenes" photos and "script leaks." There were shots of make-up tests and stills of the iconic Munster homestead as it would appear in the pending feature. The film's stars were soon announced with Sherri Moon Zombie (of course) in the role of "Lily Munster," level-head matriarch of the family. Jeff Daniel Phillips would be portraying the childlike "Herman Munster." Phillips, whose previous work includes a caveman in a series of GEICO commercials and a subsequent TV show based on the ads, is a regular player in the loose Rob Zombie repertory company. Rounding out the cast is Daniel Roebuck, a busy character actor who gives his all in every role he takes, big and small. (I wrote about Daniel here.) 

After many, many months of teasing, it was confirmed that Rob Zombie's self-proclaimed labor-of-love masterpiece would debut on the Netflix streaming service in the final week of September 2022. Scores of folks who had never seen a frame of footage began the debate. "It'll suck!" and "It'll be great!" and everything in between were splayed across the internet until premiere time arrived. I admit, I was curious. I asked Mrs. Pincus if she had any desire to watch it. Admittedly, she was not a fan of the original show, but she offered a non-committal answer. "I'd be happy to sit next to you on the sofa while you watch it.," she said. Well, it wasn't a "no."

So, I (we) watched last night.

Remember when Hollywood remade The Flintstones as a live-action movie? Sure it stunk, but we all got a good laugh and a feeling of satisfaction when John Goodman made his first appearance in that familiar spotted orange one-piece and bellowed his first "Yabba Dabba Doo!" Well, I wasn't afforded that satisfaction. Jeff Daniel Phillips, who I barely remember from Lords of Salem, is, by no stretch, a big enough name to warrant the "oh isn't that funny" reaction reserved for Warren Beatty as Dick Tracy or Anjelica Huston as Morticia Addams. Sherri Moon Zombie seemed to have conceived her entire portrayal of "Lily," after only watching the opening sequence of the TV Munsters. ("Yeah, that's all I need to see. She makes a lot of hand gestures and says 'oh!' a lot. I got it. Besides, my husband is directing this picture!") Only Daniel Roebuck treats his character with respect, thoughtfulness and insight. He is doing a dead-on Al Lewis pastiche. Sadly, the material he is given to work with is subpar. The dialogue is uninspired and lazy. I found the entire production lacking in humor or scares or any sort of combination of the two. Was this supposed to be a comedy? Was it a horror movie? I'm not sure what the goal was. I'm not sure that "superfan" Rob Zombie knew where he was headed. It's nothing. It's a bunch of Rob Zombie's friends saying a bunch of words that Rob Zombie wrote. Everyone (with the exception of Daniel Roebuck) is phoning it in... on a  ten-year old cellphone with a shattered screen and one blinking power bar left. 

But, oh, I stuck with it. I don't know why. I think I silently hoped it would get better. It didn't. As a matter of fact, it got worse. I kept waiting for Eddie or Marilyn* to show up, two important pieces of the TV show's central cast. They never did. Granted, the story was framed as a prequel to the events depicted in the series. But, that's like making a big screen version of Laverne & Shirley and leaving out Squiggy and Carmine Ragusa. (Gosh! I hope no Hollywood producer read that.) 

Someone online compared Rob Zombie to a modern-day Ed Wood. They cited his penchant to use the same group of actors in his films, his questionable choices and slap-dash style of storytelling. The difference between Zombie and Wood is Zombie's film's have zero "warmth." Ed Wood was trying his very best to be like his hero Orson Welles. Unfortunately, Ed Wood didn't posses a sliver of Welles' talent, creativity, innovation, production values or acting ability. But, he tried. With shoestring budgets, Ed Wood did his darndest to make — in his eyes — meaningful pictures of merit. Of course, he failed miserably, but he created unintentional entertainment. Zombie, on the other hand, is his own hero. He is also happily entrusted with substantial budgets. The Munsters is estimated to have cost nearly $1.5 million. His sets, while deliberately grungy, are actual movie sets. He has shot films on foreign locations. (The Munsters was shot primarily in Budapest.) However, it is money that has been squandered. Zombie wishes to make films that "look cool," but not necessarily "are cool." His scripts make sense to him, but he leaves out important details that  allows the audience to follow along. Without giving anything away, there is a plot hidden somewhere in The Munsters. It's about ten-minutes worth of hackneyed story buried under 110 minutes of garish lighting and smoke machines.

If I can offer a bit of praise to Rob Zombie's The Munsters — for a movie whose source material was in black & white, it sure was colorful.

Note: This should be taken as neither a recommendation or discouragement of Rob Zombie's The Munsters. You may like it. I did not.

*Pat Priest, one of two actresses who played "Marilyn Munster" on the TV series, makes a short cameo in a voice-over. She is not seen onscreen.

www.joshpincusicrying.com

beach baby

In 1963, producer Sam Arkoff created the "beach party" movie genre. With inspiration from the popular Gidget films and the obscure Love in a Goldfish Bowl, Arkoff signed teen idol Frankie Avalon and Disney dream girl Annette Funicello to appear in the imaginatively-named Beach Party, released by Arkoff's AIP studios in late summer 1963. With the pre-established formula of teens, bathing suits, music and a simple plot thrown in there somewhere, Beach Party was a surprise hit. It spawned eleven more films using the same premise, if not the same locale. The action in most took place on the beach, but some were set in a winter ski lodge and others on the blacktop of an auto race track. However, all were chock full of hunky boys on surfboards and cute girls in bikinis (except, of course, Annette, under strict orders from Walt Disney). They featured music from the top trendy bands of the day, including Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, "Little" Stevie Wonder, Bobby Fuller Four, The Hondells and a slew of one-hit wonders. There was also a roster of popular comedians and actors known for their work in the Golden Age of Hollywood. Buster Keaton, Don Rickles, Keenan Wynn and even Oscar winner Dorothy Malone had no problem lowering themselves to the sophomoric level of writing and humor of these films. They were, indeed, a hoot!

And, boy, do I love them!

Of course, because Hollywood has a nasty habit of rehashing popular ideas, Arkoff's beach series gave other studios the cue to make their own entries into the genre, hoping to cash in on AIP's success. Just recently, I watched United Artists' attempt at making a "beach movie." The film — entitled For Those Who Think Young — is a mess. Just a mess.

Released in July 1964, between AIP's Muscle Beach Party and Bikini Beach, For Those Who Think Young wasn't really well thought out. Sure, it checks all the right boxes (Boys, girls, beach, music, Paul Lynde), but it lacks the endearing quality of the AIP films. Say what you will about the Frankie/Annette movies. They may be silly. They may have sub-par acting, but they do have plots. Paper-thin, yes, but plots, just the same. And they stick with those plots until the story is resolved. For a 90 minute feature, there is about 20 minutes worth of plot, allowing plenty of room for dancing on the beach, comical mugging from Buster Keaton and Mickey Rooney and a song or two from the two lead actors. But everything is neatly and satisfyingly summed up by the film's conclusion. And there's even enough time for another song and waving "bye-bye" to the viewing audience.

For Those Who Think Young starts off with good intentions. Good-looking James Darren is chasing pretty Pamela Tiffin (obviously, Shelley Fabares wasn't available, so they got someone who looks like her), much to the dismay of her over-protective uncle. All that is laid out in the first five minutes. Then, somewhere along the way, the plot is abandoned. There is a disjointed subplot involving a romance between Bob Denver and Nancy Sinatra. Suddenly, a major shift is made that makes Tiffin's uncle, played by up-and-coming comedian Woody Woodbury, the lead character. James Darren and Pamela Tiffin disappear for long periods of time, taking their storyline with them. Meanwhile, Woodbury monopolizes the screen with a little help from Paul Lynde and a pre-Ginger Tina Louise as a stripper. As the film winds to a close, character actor Robert Middleton is revealed to be an underhanded villain of some sort. He is outed, disgraced and everybody sings... and drinks Pepsi. Yep, at the time, "For Those Who Think Young" was the current advertising slogan for the Number Two cola company. At times, the movie feels like an extended commercial for the soft drink, made apparent by the blatant product placement. See?.... a mess.

The actors are all fine. Bob Denver, just a few months prior to ingratiating himself as everyone's favorite hapless first mate, provides some comic moments as James Darren's valet. Nancy Sinatra, in a brunette wig, is a foil for Denver's antics, otherwise, she is essentially a prop. Claudia Martin (Dean's daughter) is included in the bevy of girls. I suppose when Dino heard that Ol' Blue Eyes' progeny was cast, well....you know. Paul Lynde is... well... Paul Lynde. He mugs for the camera, chews the scenery and delivers his dialogue like he's giving an audition for his role as Samantha Stephens' "Uncle Arthur." (Ironically, the AIP beach movies were predominantly directed by Bewitched showrunner William Asher.) Tina Louise acts as though she is giving a performance worthy of Academy Award consideration. Woody Woodbury, the true star of the movie, is a typical hack comedian. He made a handful of movies after FTWTY and, at 98 years old, still offers a stand-up act in a Florida comedy club.

I usually have a high tolerance for bad movies. I can sit through some real clunkers. Some of my favorites are some really bad movies that I can watch over and over again.

For Those Who Think Young will not be joining their ranks. I have already deleted it from my DVR queue.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com