Zombiehamster.com

There are certain advantages to living in the bog arse of nowhere. Tonight was a vivid display of one of them. In regards to gigs, it is rare that any show in Galway cannot be described as ‘intimate’. Morrissey’s performance this evening was no exception. For some reason, the only time that you would imagine to see Morrissey in a leisure centre would have been back in the 80’s when the Smiths were touring the working men’s clubs of the UK.

Amongst the stench of chlorine and sweat, the hall was filling up early with eager fans young and old. It almost seemed like a competition for a while as to who had the oldest Smiths T Shirt, but the friendliness of the revellers was a pleasant reminder of when gigs were social accumulations of like minded people. Talking to others before the show really emphasised the commitment and love that Morrissey’s supporters possess. One guy who I was speaking to approached me to compliment my clothes, saying that it was great to see that ‘Some people still made the effort to dress up for a gig’ it transpired that he was there on his own, his ticket being a gift from his girlfriend, who whilst supporting his love for Morrissey, refused to accompany him to the show. The delightful Lady P had previously maintained a similar stance on Mozza, but tonight definitely changed her mind. It’s a shame that this guy’s good lady didn’t give herself the same chance.

The setlist was everything a long-time listener could have hoped for. Bursting onstage to ‘This Charming Man’, Morrissey seemed in fantastic form. He was quite short on banter, making up for it in the power and delivery that he put into each individual track. He did find time to get a nice dig in at HMV though: ‘Just to let you know that HMV Galway wouldn’t stock our new single. I guess the moral is that it never gets any easier.’ This brought a particular smile to my face. He played very little new material, preferring to stick to Smiths songs and favourites from ‘You Are the Quarry’.

His stage presence is still second to none. It was as if he felt more at ease with the tiny venue and the basic setup and stage. He relished the opportunity to be this close to his fans, and his accentuated gesticulation is such a joy to witness a few feet away. ‘Ask’, ‘Girlfriend in a Coma’, ‘Some Girls Are Bigger than Others’, ‘How Soon is now?’ and ‘There Is a Light That Never goes out’ were personal highlights. With ‘Irish Blood, English Heart’, ‘Let Me Kiss You’ and ‘First Of The Gang To Die’ becoming stronger assets in his arsenal than upon their initial release (can it be five years already?). ‘Throwing my arms around Paris’ is soon becoming an equally anthemic track. The band was note perfect, aside form a brief mistake with the drumming, to which Morrissey quipped: ‘Was it me that made a mistake? No? Well, then that’s all that matters then.’

In short, I converted my good lady wife with this show, she reminded me of the time, almost a decade ago, when we first moved in together. She mischievously hid all my Smiths Cd’s so I couldn’t listen to them. It was so nice to see just how much she enjoyed tonight’s performance. With so many Morrissey hater’s in the world, it would be great if some of them would just try a live show, and see if their opinion remains by the end.

It was a long time coming, but every moment of this evening’s show was masterful and highly memorable. To see such a musical giant, stripped down to the bare essentials, with raw and uncomplimentary sound only adding to the atmosphere, was a great pleasure. It’s not often such things happen. For old Smiths fans who I spoke to after the show, it was like seeing him twenty years ago. As good a compliment as I could imagine. In short, if he’s coming near your home town, Morrissey’s ‘Refusal’ Tour is one to catch.

Support was by ‘Doll and the Kicks’ who were a fantastic warm-up. At first sight, they serve as a reminder that you haven’t been in Topman for a while, but their music quickly detracts from their ultra cool image. At times they sound remarkably like ‘Siouxsie and the Banshees’ and Kate Bush and then Tori Amos and then, they just sound like themselves. A really interesting and exciting new group, who have remarkable potential. Fingers crossed for them, they have a great opportunity and here’s hoping they do well, as they deserve to.

A great show, it was such a rarity for an artist who would more likely be seen from the rafters of the gargantuan O2 Arena, or at a crowded festival. This small town comes up trumps once in a while, and it has done itself proud tonight. One of the best shows in a very long time, Morrissey is truly on top of his game right now, and you would be doing yourself a disservice by missing out.

Setlist:
This Charming Man
Billy Budd
Black Cloud
How Soon Is Now?
Irish Blood, English Heart
How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?
Girlfriend In A Coma
I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris
Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed
When Last I Spoke To Carol
Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
Let Me Kiss You
The Loop
Something Is Squeezing My Skull
Seasick, Yet Still Docked
The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores (Not Played)
I Keep Mine Hidden
Sorry Doesn’t Help
Ask
I’m OK By Myself
First Of The Gang To Die

In a continuation of exploitation week here at zombiehamster.com, we momentarily divert from the movie end of the spectrum to examine one of the finest documentaries of the period. Scared Straight feels like it has been cast with members of 42nd Street’s finest, but is in fact very real indeed. A group of juvenile delinquents are sent into New Jersey’s maximum security prison Rahway State. The scenario is introduced by Peter Falk of Columbo fame, in a monotone so chilling that you are instantly stop slouching and start paying attention.

The troublesome teens are taken into the prison to be confronted by ‘The Lifers’ a group of hardened criminals, most of whom are serving life sentences for murder, hence the clever moniker. They have permission to terrify, verbally abuse and intimidate the new arrivals for several hours and the results make for essential (and hilarious) viewing.

Delight as some odious little runts with bad acne and attitude problems get threatened with intimate prison rituals, like snuggling. This predates all the diluted reality show versions that exist today, the overall feel of it being genuinely menacing. The ‘Lifers’ are a frightening bunch of guys, especially the one with ‘the eye’. Parodies of this have been seen in everything from the Simpsons to Beavis and Butthead, but the allure of the original is still as strong as it was over two decades ago.

There are two versions available, the original and also the 20 year anniversary special, hosted by none other than Danny Glover! This is the one which I would recommend searching for; I have included a section, submitted for your approval. In this version, the kids are ‘reunited’ with the Lifers in the most awkward situation I think I have ever seen on film. The cons make their way to the kids houses and you can almost see the suppressed memories come flooding back as the fear takes hold of their faces.

You won’t give a damn about the snotty roustabouts (Although in saying that, a lot of the kids look like extras from The Warriors, which is pretty cool. Also, keep your eyes open for a young Flava Flav), but the ‘Lifers’ play out like an episode of ‘Oz: The Wonder Years’ and if your idea of entertainment is watching large scary men making teenagers cry, then this may just be the ideal documentary to show on a first date.

As promised, this week is exploitation week at zombiehamster.com and to kick things off we’re beginning the proceedings with a modern homage to the bouncy bouncy romps of Russ Meyer. Director Jonathan Yudis makes no secret that this movie was merely an excuse to have as much fun as possible whilst paying tribute to the girls and gore features that he grew up with. The result was ‘Pervert!’ and from the title sequence alone, you know exactly where the movie is headed.

A young man travels into the remote desert to rekindle his strained relationship with his father, who he finds has somehow managed to procure himself a rather buxom young wife (played hilariously by Mary Carey). It isn’t long before the two are (ahem) hitting it off, thanks to some of the most unsubtle come on’s that I’ve seen outside of a Rugby Club disco. The most notable being a hilarious suggestive corn eating scene which would have Vladimir Nabokov spinning in his grave.

Suddenly, she disappears only to be almost immediately replaced by a new successor, who seems equally interested in her new groom’s son. It is about this point that the film starts to get really weird. The girls start to get viciously mutilated by an unseen entity. A really disgusting car mechanic appears and tires to man love our protagonist (see pic). The father is then discovered constructing a woman out of meat (a là Quincannon from Preacher – ‘Say the Name’).

I’m not spoiling a thing by telling you that the entity emerges to be a disembodied killer penis, which is animated Morph style out of plasticine. The penis belongs to the son, who underwent an impromptu voodoo ceremony to cure him of his sex addiction. We are in ridiculous territory here, but thankfully, the locals are friendly. There is a charm to this movie that goes beyond the absurdities and you are genuinely transported to a time when people made movies that were just plain old fun.

The whole ethos of exploitation was that it focused on the elements that mainstream cinema ignored, with its pretensions and grandiose ideas. Don’t get me wrong, I have a love for in depth, heavily structured intelligent moviemaking, but sometimes it does good for the soul to watch something like this. The soundtrack is excellent, comprising mainly of 60’s surf and boogie, adding to the Meyer feel of the whole thing. I can imagine that if the great man himself were alive, he would have happily added his grubby seal of approval.

If you are new to the exploitation genre, you could view this as pure garbage, however, if you have even a slight familiarity with the influences behind it, you will be left chuckling long after the credits have rolled. It’s a great late night feature and it makes me wish that they still had drive in theatres, because there has not been a more suitable movie for such a medium as this in quite some time (with the notable exception of Grindhouse of course). Get yourself a copy, get some beers in and enjoy.

PS: Yudis’ father in law is renowned animator Ralph Bashki, who directed the Animated Lord of the Rings and Fritz the Cat, oddly enough.

The French have a way with beauty, style elegance and class. Argue all you want, but it’s true. Sure, they can be rude, obstinate and boastful, but the last time that I checked, we weren’t exactly leading the way in politeness, courtesy and humility, so quit your whining for a moment and we shall continue.

It was about twelve years ago when I first discovered a movie called Dobermann, which starred zombiehamster favourite Vincent Cassel and a (then relatively unknown) Monica Belluci. The movie was an exercise in glamorous excess, hyped up violence, ridiculously over the top action sequences and nauseatingly slick camerawork. In short, this was a teenage boy’s wet dream of a movie.

A few months ago, two delightful French friends of mine returned home, leaving about a hundred of their DVD’s in my safekeeping until they returned, or I went over to see them. I had been using them to work on my linguistic skills which remain schoolboy at best, but I digress. It was with delight that I unearthed a triple disc version of Dobermann and with glee; I dove into the extras to find something of unparalleled beauty which I never knew existed.

Director Jan Kounen had also made several short films in the run up to this particular feature, and one in particular is essential viewing. Le Dernier Chaperon Rouge (The Last Red Riding Hood) is a 25 minute masterpiece. A reworking of the classic fairy tale, it retains the horror and mystique that the originals were intended to possess.

Dance and song take as much precedence as dialogue and visual stimulus. In a post apocalyptic world, a monstrous beast takes a young Red Riding Hood capture, viciously removing parts of her legs. Broken hearted and desperate, she manages to kill the creature, but is left crippled and captured, waiting for a successor to inflict the same fate upon.

The woodland springs to life, with rabbits, flowers, mushrooms and rocks, dancing and singing in anticipation of the arrival of the last existing Red Hood. They eagerly convince the (wonderfully portrayed) Big Bad Wolf to summon her from her underground slumber.

I will not divulge anymore of the plot because near in mind that this is a short film. The colourful and playful visual aesthetics are fantastically juxtaposed with the dark and gothic elements that are also at play. I cannot implore you enough to seek this out, I have included a link, but to do this justice, seek a DVD quality version.

Emmanuelle Bèart is delightful as the Last Red Riding Hood and the humour in her performance is second only to her innocence. There are very few short films that leave you so thirsty for more upon conclusion; it is a shame that this seems to have been lost in obscurity. For any fans of Guillermo Del Toro, Terry Gilliam or David Lynch, this is a mini masterpiece that will not disappoint. If this is their cinematic standard, then it’s justifiable for the French to be as proud as they are of their cinematic output.

Version with English subs available here:    http://tinyurl.com/c8h2zz

Roger Corman is a name that’s synonymous with schlock for any discerning fan of the Horror and Sci Fci genre. His Edgar Allan Poe adaptations with Vincent price are amongst some of the most iconic horror movies ever made. The Raven, Masque of the Red Death, The Pit and the Pendulum and Premature Burial to name but a few. He also gave many of today’s greatest directors, such as Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese, their first big break in the movies.

Corman and Coppola made a movie called Dementia 13 in 1963, starring Patrick Magee and filmed it in Ireland. Many of the Poe adaptations were also filmed in the west of Ireland, with its gothic landscapes and disfigured locals proving more successful for setting the tone of these wonderful movies better than any manufactured studio lot could provide. It was Corman’s affinity for the emerald isle that lead him to establish a production company in Conemara, just beside Galway.

A lifelong supporter of new talent, Corman has put his name to many things and can generally be used as a quality guide for recognising good trashy fun. Imagine then, my excitement when I discovered that the same year that I moved to Galway, Corman had produced a feature shot in the city called Moving Target starring none other than 80’s action legend and kickboxing star Don ‘The Dragon’ Wilson. The results are almost hypnotic in what is possibly one of the most ridiculous movies that I have ever seen.

The ‘plot’ is thus. Don has come to Ireland to meet a potential love interest that he has met (i.e.: groomed) online. This love interest is so unbelievably ugly that we spent the entire movie wondering if she was wearing prosthetics, or was altered by cgi, like the inbreeds in the recent Hills Have Eyes remake. The only reason for casting this unfortunate seems to be that she has red hair, which coincidentally all the women in the movie seem to have.

In a bid to impress this meek, shrew like creature, (‘He keeps trying to kiss me, on the mouth’ she tells a friend who responds ‘Well, he’s an American isn’t he?’) he has to purchase a six pack of Beamish stout (In the most blatant use of product placement since I Robot) to impress her boss, so that she can get the day off work. He then inadvertently buys a six pack that contains a nuclear device belonging to the IRA.

I’m not making any of this up, I promise you. The only thing that makes this film more ridiculous than its premise are the production values. There is a car chase sequence filmed on the Galway docks which was obviously only hired for the day. They drive around in circles repeating the same in car shots about six times.

The ‘Oirish’ actors are all hilarious and I even saw a few people turning up in it that I know from about town. This does not however mean that any of them are any good. The bumpkin like shenanigans border on racist, but are no less hilarious for this. The acting is horrible beyond belief, the action scenes are horrifically edited and to be honest, I haven’t had such fun watching a movie in a long, long time. Come laugh at how backward and untalented they all are, it’s worth the price of admission alone.

I urge you to seek out a copy of this, get some beers and a pizza and laugh your ass off. Roger Corman, thank you so much for this because, like a daisy through concrete, there is a simple enjoyable beauty to this.

Coming soon, another review of a Corman feature shot in my old art college, starring Patsy Kensit. I bet you can’t wait.

Moving target can be purchased here: http://tinyurl.com/df7k9b

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