Posts Tagged ‘jack nicholson’

Movie Millisecond: The Shining, “Zing.” edition

July 5, 2011

The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980).

Flashback Friday: Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

June 3, 2011

This post originally appeared on June 24, 2010 at 6:26 p.m.

Maybe “well” is subjective …


If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.


See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.


The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.


2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

69 Days of Wonder Woman: Day 44, Medication time

December 12, 2010


via.

Click to enlarge, print, and color. Very soothing, color crayons.

Daily Batman: ‘Tis the season

November 29, 2010

26 Shopping Days left ’til Christmas, dudes.


Batman (Tim Burton, 1989).

Make it special!

Hot Man Bein’ Hot of the Day: Young Marlon Brando

September 29, 2010

Been a while since we’ve had a Hot Man Bein’ Hot of the Day around here and I thought I’d look to remedy that right about now.

Like fellow rebel-imaged hottie James Dean*, Marlon Brando was a complex cat who looked damned fine deviating from the norm.


Credit.**

“Acting is the least mysterious of all crafts. Whenever we want something from somebody or when we want to hide something or pretend, we’re acting. Most people do it all day long.”
(Interview in the New York Times. July 2, 2004.)

Girls like a boy who plays music.

This picture ain’t just whistlin’ dixie. Marlon Brando holds several patents for drumhead tensioning. That links to one, but the patent office issued others between December 2002 and November 2004.


Marlon Brando: Pussy Magnet.

Girls like a boy who reads.

“With women, I’ve got a long bamboo pole with a leather loop on the end. I slip the loop around their necks so they can’t get away or come too close. Like catching snakes.”

Mr. Brando’s legally wedded snakes:

  • Anna Kashfi (1957–1959)
  • Movita Castaneda (1960–1962)
  • Tarita Teriipia (1962–1972)


    “He gave us our freedom. … When Marlon dies, everybody moves up one.”

    (Jack Nicholson, on Brando’s import in the history of actors.)

    Mr. Brando passed away on July 1, 2004 at the UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles, California of respiratory failure from pulminary fibrosis, brought on by numerous causes. R.I.P.

    I promise to revisit Marlon Brando another Hot Man Bein’ Hot etc day because I’ve got loads more pictures.








    *On October 1, my Complete James Dean DVD box set arrives, along with an Audrey set. Anticipaaation.
    **All pictures via fuckyeahmarlonbrando on the tumblr, a beautiful must for Brando fans.

  • Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

    June 24, 2010

    Maybe “well” is subjective …


    If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

    Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.


    See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

    I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.


    The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

    The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.


    2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

    The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

    Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

    Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

    I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

    Movie Moment: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

    May 19, 2010

    One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Miloš Forman, 1975).

    I wrote quite a while ago about how I had always responded very strongly to this movie, well before reading the book, but I recently rewatched it after having gone through the excruciating experience of being impelled to read the book all of a night in September (thanks to a loan from Jonohs), and it reminded me I’ve been collecting screencaps which I’d like to share.

    Actually I have dozens more of these, but I think in this edition I want to keep the focus mainly on the question of Mac’s mental state and the conflict between McMurphy and Nurse Ratched.


    “In one week, I can put a bug so far up her ass, she won’t know whether to shit or wind her wristwatch.”

    (I’m pretty sure that all of these particular caps are via One Day, One Movie on the tumblr.)

    Did You Know? One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was filmed on location at the State Mental Hospital in scenic Salem, Oregon. I’m not familiar with that particular monkeyhouse, but Ken Kesey was: he based the 1962 book, from which the movie was adapted, on his experiences working as an orderly there, during which time he participated in a study where he was given, among other hallucinogenic compounds, a friendly little fuckstorm of LSD and peyote. Yummy! Your tax dollars at work!


    Nurse Ratched: If Mr. McMurphy doesn’t want to take his medication orally, I’m sure we can arrange that he can have it some other way. But I don’t think that he would like it.

    McMurphy: [to Harding] You’d like it, wouldn’t you? Here, give it to me.


    “Is that crazy enough for you? You want me to take a shit on the floor?”

    “Hey, baby, where you from?” “I am from 1234 Asylum Street, Room 22.”

    The original Oregon State Hospital for the Insane was established by J.C. Hawthorne in what was then East Portland, Oregon, (now the Hawthorne District). It was built in 1862, and the street on which it was built was renamed Asylum Street. Local residents protested about the name, however, and it was renamed Hawthorne after the hospital’s founder in 1888.

    The street in Salem on which the current hospital is located, Center Street, was also originally named Asylum Avenue.

    Heartwarming. I used to live very close to Hawthorne in Portland. Between you and me, the name change was unnecessary. There is just as much a cacophony of poverty, despair, madcap high spirits, compassionately helpless onlookers, and emotionless venture capitalists as the name “Asylum Street” suggests. An intersection of mixed purposes and emotions.

    Droppin’ c-bombs. That Mac!


    “Now they’re telling me I’m crazy because I don’t sit there like a goddamn vegetable. Doesn’t make a bit of sense to me. If that’s what being crazy is, then I’m senseless, out of it, gone-down-the-road, whacko — no more, no less, that’s it.”

    I have basically scene by scene screencaps but I’ve always felt really strongly about this movie and I’m committed to hoping that everyone goes and watches it for themselves. No spoilers today.


    The main difference between the [film and the book] is that the novel is narrated by Chief Bromden, and the reader knows straight away that he [no spoilers].

    This was a major source of controversy in developing the screenplay, and eventually the reason why the author, Ken Kesey, was not the final writer. He felt as though the narration of a schizophrenic was an important aspect of the novel, because it produced a hallucinogenic perspective where the reader/viewer is not always sure exactly what is true. (the wiki)

    That was my only criticism to Jonohs, I believe, when we discussed the differences between the book and its film adaptation, so now I’m feeling pretty unoriginal.

    The end.

    NSFW November: “I’m with the band.” — Bebe Buell, Miss November 1974

    November 3, 2009

    If you need a snack or a potty break, now’s the time. Cause the lovely and talented Bebe Buell is about to suck up your entire life until you are through with this entry. … Welcome to the jungle. Better men than you have been lost in its vines.


    Before I go on with her basically amazing life-story, I’d like to point out that this gorgeous slice of strawberry cheesecake was basically the hottest ticket in the musical world in the 1970’s, and she rocked a pretty plush rug Down There. All-natural goodness, from a kind and confident lady. What gives with the kind of freakish waxed hardwood floors I am seeing in commercial porn lately? Meanwhile, on the flip side, the most popular amateurs over on the redtube and the tube8 generally sport Hair Down There and feature a throwback to women in pornography and erotica looking convincingly real. Vivid Video, this recently rediscovered art of the legitimate nude, this sexytimes pictures and video trend informed by raw, sexy authenticity, is why you guys are now losing the game almost completely to amateur streaming videos. Pubes and kissing are what make the difference between a so-so, mainly unconvincing video and a really special one. Write that down. Okay, so on with the show.

    In 1972 while working as a teenage model in New York City, Buell met and dated rock star Todd Rundgren for several years. During and after her sometimes open relationship with Rundgren, she also became intimate with many other famous musicians, including Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page, and Steven Tyler while maintaining homes with Rundgren in both New York City and the Woodstock, New York area until late 1977.


    Buell then moved on to Rod Stewart and in the summer of 1978, she began a tempestuous affair with the married but separated Elvis Costello which continued on and off until 1984. She was also involved with the late Stiv Bators and actor Jack Nicholson. — the wiki.

    Okay, so the backstory, which is really more like a sexual history. Look, I think it is wretchedly unfair when a lady’s life story is framed by the boys she has bagged, but holy jeebus, Bebe Buell. How can I not bring it up??

    Oh, you. You wonderfully nutty, gorgeous-movie-star-baby-spawning, Penny-Lane-in-Almost-Famous-inspiring, strawberry blonde minx! Gawd, how I love her and her sweet, vivacious life outlook. This chick is truly endless entertainment, you guys. I mean it. And she is sweet as hell, too. A real person!

    And we should all kiss her feet for bringing that little daughter of hers into this world. Who is it? Click here to see who Bebe’s daughter is, after the jump, along with a pictorial history of Bebe’s quite rich sex life (many, many vintage musicians in the mix and a fellow groupie to boot), plus hateful Elvis Costello spewing vitriol – none of it is to be missed!

    Daily Batman: Enter the Joker

    September 11, 2009

    “Jaaaaaaazz hannnnds!”

    “Life is a gas, but the side effects do vary.” –Mr. Cornelius Bear, Achewood, Chris Onstad