Winston Churchill enjoying a day at the beach, as originally reported by The Tatler in 1911.
Winston Churchill enjoying a day at the beach, as originally reported by The Tatler in 1911.
John Lydon fans have probably heard that Lydon co-starred opposite Harvey Keitel in a 1983 film, variously titled Copkiller, The Order of Death, Corrupt, or as it was later renamed Corrupt Lieutenant (to capitalize on Bad Lieutenant, of course), but they have probably never seen the film.
No surprise no one’s ever seen it as the movie hardly saw any release in any form other than a VHS that came out in the mid-80s and the newer crop of bootleg DVDs you can buy at the 99 Cents Only discount stores. The version you can find there—and yes for 99 cents—has a cover that looks like it wasn’t even made on a computer, but by hand, with scissors, tape and magic makers, that’s how schlocky it is. It’s sourced from the same VHS that came out in the 80s. For sale on Amazon, too, often for as low as a penny with $3.99 postage and handling.
Under whatever title, this film is not, by any method of accounting, what you could call a “good” movie, but it does have one thing to recommend it and that is the then 23-year-old Lydon’s performance as Leo Smith, a wealthy, psychotic “confessor” who falsely confesses to the murders of several cops. His performance is so strange and riveting (and psychotic) that you can’t take your eyes off him. In many ways he’s just doing his standard shtick (and wearing his own clothes!), but it’s simply amazing to me that he wasn’t routinely hired for more psycho and “bad guy” roles after this. What a waste.
The film was shot in Rome—standing in for New York City—and the producers didn’t seem to care if this was obvious. It’s got a decent, nerve-wracking Ennio Morricone soundtrack, but other than Lydon’s charismatic performance, but Copkiller, AKA The Order of Death, AKA Corrupt is pretty sub-par, and at times, a rather tedious affair. Still, I confess that I have watched it at least three times all the way through just for Lydon’s scenes. It’s easy to find on torrent trackers, including the Pirate Bay (the film is public domain in the U.S. at least), and you can stream it in full on Daily Motion. Now see this mythical, but ultimately crappy, movie yourself and you won’t even have to spend 99 cents on it…
After the jump, watch Copkiller, AKA The Order of Death, AKA Corrupt, AKA Corrupt Lieutenant...
“In my dreams I see strange men.” ~ Cami Parker
The Little Sticky Legs blog posted portraits of alien abductees photographed by Steven Hirsch.
“They took my memory away.” ~ Jeffery
“I’ve got to meet numerous types of beings.” ~ Cynthia
“This thing is just hovering in the air.” ~ Steve
More portraits of alien abductees after the jump…
Bert & Ernie, together since 1969
The Jim Henson Company has severed their partnership with fast food chain Chick-Fil-A. The company’s “Creature Shop” toys are being given away with kid’s meals, but that’s coming to an end, due to Chick-Fil-A’s conservative Christian President-CEO Dan Cathy’s anti-gay public statements.
The Jim Henson Company posted this statement to their Facebook page:
The Jim Henson Company has celebrated and embraced diversity and inclusiveness for over fifty years and we have notified Chick-Fil-A that we do not wish to partner with them on any future endeavors. Lisa Henson, our CEO is personally a strong supporter of gay marriage and has directed us to donate the payment we received from Chick-Fil-A to GLAAD.
The comments are fascinating.
Meanwhile Boston mayor Tom Menino has publicly stated his opposition to a Chick-Fil-A opening in Beantown. It’s not like a mayor can single-handedly decree something like this, but Menino can make damn sure that opening the Boston branch of Chick-Fil-A is a very, very slow and expensive process for Dan Cathy and his crew.
Not eating at a Chick-Fil-A is an easy way to send a message that this kind of thing won’t be tolerated in your community, either. Why give Truett and Dan Cathy your money to fight marriage equality? Bigotry = bad business. It’s time Chick-Fil-A’s stockholders and franchise owners realize this and kick Dan Cathy to the curb. He’s a PR disaster.
It’s available for purchase here and is called “Warning: Christian with Gun Infant Bodysuit.”
Experimental film maker Gerard Courant has taken Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless and sped up it (or compressed it as he prefers to call it) into a four minute movie.
The French title of Godard’s debut film is À bout de souffle which translates to English as “out of breath.” Courant’s compression is most likely a play on the title.
What I find interesting about the compression is the way it brings Godard’s style and the American noir films he was inspired by to the foreground. The nervous energy of the film, the pans and tracking shots, cigarettes smoked, automobiles in motion, zooms, jump-cuts, and close-ups, all create an angular yet fluid motion that seems driven by forces of destiny - the movie is tumbling into a dark void of betrayal and its opposite - yin and yanging to the beat beat beat of a heart in the throes of atrial tachycardia. No time to catch your breath - you’re breathless.
Fucking with Godard’s masterpiece is very Godardian.
If, as Godard claims, “cinema is truth at 24 frames per second” what is cinema at 524 frames per second?
I can’t exactly remember the first time I saw or became aware of Chesty Morgan. Which is odd, especially since she is best known for her strange assortment of bad wigs and a 73-inch, all natural bust line. It’s like she has always been a part of my life. Like one stoic, large breasted angel, whose face vacillates between confused and languid in Doris Wishman’s surrealistic exploitation film, Deadly Weapons.
Lest there is any question about what type of titular weaponry we are talking about here, the first 30 seconds will immediately set you straight. After a few seconds of some groovy, 60’s rock, a loud drone type noise emerges and then suddenly there’s Chesty, or Zsa Zsa, as she is billed in the film, with her arms outstretched like a menacing breasty crane. The rock soundtrack comes back and then we are treated to Chesty Morgan admiring and vaguely fondling her breasts in a series of modern type, circular mirrors. The psychedelic fun house effect, while maybe not the most sexy thing in the world, is great and fitting. (After all, Deadly Weapons is a keen example of a sexploitation carnival ride, so grab a ticket, strap on your lap-belt and enjoy!)
Chesty stars as Crystal, a successful advertising executive who loves chunky shoes, pantyhose and her jocular, hairy chested lover, Larry (Richard Towers). While the affection is very much shared, Larry’s tied up with some very shady, underworld types, often flanked by Tony (the great Harry Reems) and a balding gent with an eye patch (Mitchell Fredericks) that goes by the name Captain Hook. They pull a hit on one well-connected man, with a powerful little black book. Larry finds it first and slips it into his jacket, in effect pulling a silent double cross on his partners. As you can imagine, his plan does not flesh out well and once he is found out to be a fink, they ice him.
Crystal, through some bad cosmic lattice timing, ends up hearing the whole thing over the phone. But not without overhearing such key details like the fact that Hook is fleeing to Vegas and has a weakness for burlesque dancers. This is good to know, but before our uber-cleavagey heroine can commence on her plan for revenge, we get treated to a long, strange, dream-like sequence including one stupendous shot of Crystal’s tear streaked breasts super-imposed over a blue pool. It’s absurd in its wonderment and wonderful in its total ridiculousness.
Up next, she’s off to Vegas and tries to get a job at one of the more unseemly burlesque houses. The sleazy manager, a man that undoubtedly reeks of stale cigars and Hai Karate, has no interest in the persistent gal in the strangely frumpy top. That is until she unleashes her fleshy pulchritude, resulting in both his eyes bugging out to a comical Tex Avery type sound effect. Of course, she gets the job. Crystal’s a hit immediately but has her striptease career cut short as quickly as it began, when she gets fired for rebuffing the sexual advances of her slimy boss. He does at least let her finish her shift. Feeling hopeless in her ability to catch Captain Hook, she starts to dance regardless and guess who shows up for the girly show?
Captain Hook is instantly smitten and takes her back to his room, only to get roofied and then smothered to death by her pendulous bosom of doom. Of course, not before unwittingly giving her information on the whereabouts of Tony. Will Crystal be able to fully avenge the death of her lover or will she become the victim of the ultimate double cross?
Deadly Weapons is one strange film, which was par for the course of the late, great Doris Wishman, the same woman behind Nude on the Moon and Bad Girls Go To Hell. On one hand, it is a completely, dyed-in-the-wool piece of cinematic ridiculousness. The rapt obsession with Chesty’s breasts permeates almost every frame of the film, but with the effect being less sexual and more surreal. Part of this is due to the somnambulist-esque performance of Chesty herself. She ranges at times between looking confused and tired but then peppers it with these odd attempts to make a sexy, licking-her-lips face. The bizarre fashion choices only add to this, whether it is the awkward silver wigs, secretary-type pantyhose or the occasionally frumpy blouses. Of course, she does don some legitimately burlesque type clothing for her act and in half of the film, she lounges around in a frilly pink number, but the whole thing feels more like some bosom-mad fever dream than anything else.
The crime elements add some pulp-style fun with the underrated Harry Reems being especially good as the murder-happy mook Tony. There’s an interesting and surprisingly bleak twist at the end, all adding up to one colorful cinematic oddity. Even better is that the company that has blessed us with this film, Something Weird Video, has recently released a triple feature on Blu-Ray that has Deadly Weapons, its sister film Double Agent ‘73 (which involves a camera being implanted into her breasts, all in the name of super-secret spy work) and the non-Chesty film, The Immoral Three. So if you love a little hi-def with your exploitation, then you will be as happy as a breast-obsessed lamb. Even if you think this is an awful film, you cannot deny the beautiful strangeness that is Deadly Weapons.
It is strange to think that some the most important works of art from the past 100 years have been lost, erased, destroyed, stolen, censored, or allowed to rot, and can now no longer be seen.
The Gallery of Lost Art is a virtual exhibition that reconstructs the stories behind the disappearances of some of the world’s best known and influential works of art. It’s the biggest virtual exhibition of its kind, and is curated by Jennifer Mundy, and is produced by the Tate in association with Channel 4 television. The virtual Gallery has been beautifully designed by digital studio ISO, and the site will be kept live for 12 months, before it is lost.
Amongst those currently on exhibition at the Gallery of Lost Art are:
Lucian Freud Portrait of Francis Bacon (1952)
This small painting was stolen in at exhibition in Germany on May 27th, 1988. It is considered one of Freud’s best early works, and although there was a police investigation and a hefty reward (300,000DM) the portrait has never been recovered.
Tracey Emin: Everyone I have Ever Slept With 1963-1995
Made in 1995, when Tracey Emin was still relatively unknown, Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995 is a tent covered with the names of all the people Emin had slept with, including lovers, friends, family members and foetus 1, foetus 2. Inspired by an exhibition of Tibetan nomadic culture, which included examples of their tents, which are used by Tibetan monks for meditation, Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995 made Emin an over-night sensation and one of the most controversial artists working in Britain at that time. The work was bought by Charles Saatchi, who kept it (along with hundreds of other art works), in a warehouse in London’s east end. In 2004, a fire destroyed this warehouse and most of Saatchi’s collection - including 40 paintings by Patrick Heron.
Michele Bachmann’s delusional McCarthyite “Islamunists in the State Dept.” conspiracy theories are all fun and games until someone starts getting death threats…
Via The New York Post:
Police and federal officials have placed security around ex-Rep. Anthony Weiner’s wife, Huma Abedin, after a New Jersey man threatened her, law-enforcement sources said.
An individual, described as a Muslim man, made the unspecified threat after Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minn.) last week claimed Abedin’s family had ties to the Muslim Brotherhood and asked for a probe to see if she is helping the Islamist organization.
The man was questioned by the NYPD and the State Department and has not been charged, sources said.
The GOP really needs to do something about this reckless, irresponsible train-wreck. To say nothing of the voters in her district!
If you’d like to donate some money to the Democratic challenger running against Michele Bachmann, MN hotel owner Jim Graves, you can do so here.
Image by Skywalker11
I grew up in West Virginia. Practically from the day I was born, I was exposed to the idea of what a strip mine is. When I saw The Lorax on TV for the first time, I would have been about six, and I can recall drawing an immediate connection to the barren wasteland hell-pit down the hill from my parents’ house as I watched. My childrhood was spent in an area where the “Truffula trees” were hard, black and underground, but the point Dr. Seuss wanted kids to instinctually grok, I can assure you, was not lost on me.
Large coal companies have been coming in and raping the land without opposition for decades. That is the way things are in West Virginia. Without opposition? Who am I kidding, they roll out the red carpet for the pleasure, because residents of the state are so desperate for the work. When your family is hungry, it’s all about the here and now. The coal companies write the laws in WV. This is how they’re able to saw the tops off of once pristine mountains and hills, fuck up the drinking water and destroy the soil, generally leaving the place looking like a lunar landscape in their wake.
When the coal is gone, West Virginia is going to be a big hole in the middle of the country. That’s all that’s going to be left of it. The people who live there who would like to stop it, can’t stop anything and most people outside of the state are either totally unaware of what’s going on there or they simply don’t care.
Very few images of the so-called “sacrifice zones” left behind by rapacious late-stage Capitalism make it to the mainstream media. Once in a while, maybe, but what goes on in the hills of Appalachia isn’t really the stuff of The New York Times, CNN or even MSNBC. The state is too far removed from the media centers and corridors of power, so the mountain tops keep getting removed and now the guy living in the mobile home down the road has sold the fracking rights to his five acres. Who gives a shit about your drinking water?
The answer, quite frankly, doesn’t seem to be anyone. This is just the way it goes…
After the jump, watch Bill Moyers and Chris Hedges discuss Capitalism’s ‘sacrifice zones’...