Re-Animator: Why more films like this should be made

It's a bit embarrassing to admit that I just saw Re-Animator (1985) for the first time last Saturday. 


One of the most popular and must-see cult classics of all time. It's up there with The Evil Dead, The Return Of The Living Dead, and Braindead (Dead Alive) in the honors section of this type of genre. That small group of films that exploit all fear of cadavers and turning that fear and trepidation into a potent mixture of schlock, gore, and black humor not commonly seen in more mainstream Hollywood drivel these days.

Prior to seeing it I have already seen and are familiar with most of director Stuart Gordon's movies. Mostly adaptations of HP Lovecraft's shorts, that were given unique film treatments. Gordon has a knack for transforming Lovecraft's stories---difficult reads I must admit; given to long, drawling narratives that rely all-too heavily on the reader's own imagination---into compelling films that have so much visual impact that it lingers with you even after a while when you first watched it. 


The first film I saw was his 1987 adaptation of From Beyond, Lovecraft's take on stimulating the pineal gland via a machine called a resonator, which enables people to see otherworldy creatures existing in another plane of existence or dimension not readily visible to man's average senses. That was also the first film I saw frequent Gordon collaborator Jeffrey Combs, who played the tragic protagonist Dr. Crawford Tillinghast who eventually had his pineal gland pop out of his head like a gross, bloody insect antennae with a mind of its own due to the constant stimulation and exposure to the machine.


For an 80s horror film, it stood out from the rest that jumped in on the whole slasher craze that swept the horror genre. It's Lovecraft, for one. The late author's fascination with interdimensional existence, beings, as well as the Elder Gods and the notorious Old Ones gave rise to the Chtlulhu Mythos that no more than a few members of the society actually believe to be true. Add in Gordon's natural talent in conjuring celluloid shock material that include morbid sexual fetishes, gore, and humorous/shocking ways of watching people get killed. That was put into good use again with the lesser-known but equally disturbing Dagon (2001), this one an adaptation of the author's Shadow Over Innsmouth---about a race of hybrid human/aquatic creatures that worship one of the notorious deities allied with Chtlulhu that resides in the black abyss of the sea.


But among all of Gordon's outputs, Re-Animator has got to be the most widely known and, to some of the squeamish members of the society, reviled. It's the kind of R-18 film where even adults are driven to nail-biting discomfort, specially when that famous cadaver with the severed head decided to molest a woman in some of the sickest ways a celluloid zombie could ever think of.


It starts off with the introduction of Herbert West (Combs), a medical student kicked out of a European school for his radical theories on brain death and re-animating dead tissue via his special re-agent formula he discovered with a deceased mentor. he transfers to the fictional Miskatonic University Medical School where he met and befriended the other half of the film's two protagonists, student Dan Cain (Dark Justice's Bruce Abbot).

Jeffrey Combs as the notorious Herbert West, re-animator

What follows is the standard partnership between the brilliant, but weird partner and the other grounded, mediocre, and more socially popular one. It was only a matter of time when both people's experiments on re-animating cadavers goes out of hand (like what happens to all horror movies that involve 'experiments') and the fun really goes into overdrive. 


For one thing this is not the typical zombies the George Romero school of zombie-making has taught us. And that's how I view and expect to see how reanimated corpses would behave. Gordon's corpses are different in a way that they are also deadly homicidal monsters but not with the same motivations as standard zombies (sorry, living dead) usually do. The Walking Dead, this isn't.


But for all its gore and ample shocking footage of violence, the most surprising aspect of the film is its ability to make you laugh and cringe at the same time. Mostly in the space of one frame. One second a character does something totally hilarious like bumping over things while holding his own severed head, and the next moment become an evil diabolical mastermind that rivals all other film villains in existence. Not to mention adding a lecherous side to the heavily-cliched portrayals of the living dead.


It's over the top entertainment, for sure. But it won't reach cult status if it wasn't any good.

TAG: Advocacy for theater actors' welfare

Photo courtesy of TAG

Like any occupation, acting---or in this case theater acting---is actually as real and as taxing, and as exhausting as, for example, being an air traffic controller or a stockbroker. I can already hear the different sides fuming about the audacity to compare their respective professions to the other. Relax, nothing's being compared here. And nothing's better than the other. Just illustrating a point about the realities of an occupation common people like me always associate with the glitz and glamour, but are thoroughly unfamiliar with, especially when it comes to the real problems and challenges that happens behind the curtains when the audience is not present.


It's always a point of personal amusement as to how ordinary people could possibly aspire to have a life in the limelight or in front of the stage or camera. To only see the glamour side of it and not the real work---not to mention the intense rivalries, back stabbings, rejections and the humiliating kick-in-the-crotch kind of criticisms hurled towards you by overzealous directors and/or co-workers you share more than half of your waking time with on a regular basis.And to actually believe that the ease with which these professionals make their chosen craft appear so effortless that the average person thinks he can actually do it.


Just reading articles on the lives of performers should be enough to at least give you an informed insight on the profession you are aspiring to have, if that actually does not deter you in the first place. Like any endeavor that requires the participation of a professional, acting is real work. "Backbreaking", as some wrestlers would say, though their brand of theatrics borders on a much more brutal and literal backbreaking aspect of 'acting'. Just for that alone, our actors deserve unwavering respect.


Last October 10, a large gathering of theater actors and freelancers as well as representatives of other branches of the media converged at the PETA Theater Center for the First General Assembly of the Philippine Theater Actors Guild (TAG). This is a notable event simply because this is the first time a formal gathering about actors' welfare when it comes to working conditions and compensation has been formally discussed and launched.


Its inception was hardly the type of serendipitous circumstance that spawns good things out of  personal tragedies. But a dangerous incident of sleeping on the wheel while driving that involved TAG founder and guild president Kalila Aguilos proved to be the right catalyst to spur long-dormant sentiments into motion. 


In her Facebook status update following the incident, Aguilos stated: Does someone have to die before a law curtailing shooting / taping hours is passed? 


The long discussion that followed because of that declaration led to an agreement on the urgent need for at least a union to oversee the welfare of the actors and other concerns related to theater work. 


Shortly after that, Elmar Beltran of the Commission For Culture Of The Arts or NCCA invited her for a dialogue that was also attended by groups like Philstage, The OPM, AMP, AWF and KAPPT. That was where Aguilos realized there was no group that represented theater actors in the Philippines as a whole. Her further discussions with members of the theater community ultimately lead to the formation of TAG---whose main directive is to be a platform for the actors' development through additional education, training, welfare, and assistance in more practical aspects of the profession like health care, security, and taxes.


The October 10 event was well-attended by various representatives of diverse media backgrounds like music, the performing arts, film and journalism. Award-winning director Jose Javier Reyes delivered the key note speech, stating, in one of the most poignant parts of his talk: "This gathering is important. It is not only an expression of camaraderie, a renewal of friendship or a sharing of common interests. Tonight is a vital first step. This gathering is a statement. We want change".


If that declaration is not an indication of the the kind of working conditions our actors have to endure up until then, then I don't know what is. As I understand it, theater is high in prestige but not exactly something that commands an intimidating paycheck as far as chosen professions go. Not that money is the prime motivation of people getting into this life is the only reason why they do what they do. But as with other art forms, it can only thrive when adequate financial support and security to the ones making it are provided.


TAG's board of trustees are composed of volunteers from various sectors offering free advise or any other forms of ready assistance to actors. Board member Cesar Apolinario, GMA 7 mediaman and award-winning filmmaker said, " I know this is a long journey but I'm giving it a shot. This is pro-bono. It's the only prestige I guess and the fact that I will be able to help our actors." Other members include: Celeste Legaspi, Jett Pangan (The Dawn), Tony Moncupa, Mayor Guia Gomez, Ronald Pineda of Folded and Hung and Repertory Philippines' Menchu Lauchengco. The October 10 general assembly confirmed each trustees' position. Lea Salonga and PLDT's Butch Jimenez are currently being considered for their respective expertise.


But an organization can only do so much. Especially a civic-oriented, non-profit one like TAG. What it can do, aside from assisting the people it aims to assist, is also spearhead awareness toward the general public on the realities and current state of Philippine theater. Unless some serious noise or any form of public sentiment reaches the correct legislative body into doing concrete laws on theater people's welfare, it would be a constant struggle with no discernible outcome. 'Sometimes up, sometimes down' as that animated Disney Robin Hood song goes. 


As with all challenges and undertakings, the first step is the most important. And with that first meeting, became the compass that set the travelers on the right course.

R.E.M.: 1980-2011

I considered calling this post It's the end of REM as we know it. An obvious tongue-in-cheek reference to the recent retirement of the band, and their 1987 single off their album Document. But that has an unpleasant ring of permanence to it as if the members died or actually wouldn't do any other productive things thereafter. And the fact that a million others titled their article like that.


All bands eventually succumb to this; it's just a matter of time. It's actually surprising the band held out for as long as 31 years.


I never considered myself a big fan of the group. But I do have three albums I enjoy spinning every now and then, mostly the later works they did for Warner Music after they departed from IRS Records.


"Losing My Religion" was the single that sparked my interest for the band, and I even had the mistaken notion that it was a debut single coming from a new act that obviously benefited from what Nirvana did in ushering the alternative era and making college music cool enough to merit endless airings in MTV and mainstream radio. It had a jangly, catchy pop hook to it that was missing in most of the hard rock crunch of the distortion-heavy groups I listened to in heavy rotation that time. The lead singer, a good friend would later comment, even looked like a geek and slightly gay version of 90210's Luke Perry.


R.E.M was my introduction to 'rock' music minus the cock-rock and macho BS-posturing and moping evident in some of the buzz bands that took up most of my collection. While the band may take it negatively being referred to as rock musicians, or being purveyors of music anywhere remotely near the term rock, is beside the point. I always believed 'rock' meant not doing the same asinine disposable top 40 single with the shelf life of two days. 

R.E.M., Murmur era, 1983

Out Of Time (1991) was the first album I had of the band, mainly because of "Losing My Religion" and my budding interest to a local newspaper (Teddy Locsin's TODAY) column by someone named Jessica Zafra. She practically worshiped them, not unlike a religious zealot---most especially lead singer Michael Stipe---that I had to find out for myself that the group was more than just the single I came to know them for. 


I did not like the album that much. It was good, but not great. At least in my opinion that time.


It was too adult contemporary rock for me, being only 14 and still maintaining my stand that Megadeth is the best band of the last 1000 years. It was hardly the kind of band who channeled the angst, confusion and rebellious sentiments of the turmoils of adolescence unlike Green Day or Pearl Jam. 


 I walked out of it more than a little disappointed and thinking only "Losing My Religion" and "Near Wild Heaven" were the only great tracks on it. It was relegated to the last section of the drawer where I kept most of my cassettes (CD cost too much back then, even more so now) to be played now and then when I have had too much of the ear-splitting approach of their much louder Seattle counterparts or the token thrash metal records I had in abundance. In other words, it served as an intermission record for the next how many years I had left in high school, and had to get another copy of it when I entered college due to an unfamiliar deck's messing up the cassette ribbon into a tangled mass of trash.


By this time, and probably because of the hormones starting to stabilize coupled with reading some of the major music publications as well as an unconscious need for variety in listening materials, I gave the album (the new copy) another spin and found myself warming up to it a lot more than the first time I listened. I found myself sitting through the entire tape, with a few rewinds to the track "Belong"---wondering how the hell I missed such a good song and skipping it all these years. 

Automatic For The People (1992) is the best R.E.M album according to most publications and even Peter Buck (guitars) himself, but the one I wore out due to repeated playing was the little known New Adventures In Hi-Fi (1996). Out of the three albums I had, the latter was probably the one that had the most resonance to me. I don't know, maybe the fact that most of the songs were recorded live in various locations, sound checks and dressing rooms while on the Monster tour and still sounded a lot better than other overproduced garbage of that time was the reason. And that the songs had a floaty, introspective feel to them not even readily apparent in all other earlier songs I heard from them. If I were a superstitious man I'd  attribute the overwhelming sense of melancholia that pervades the entire record as an omen for drummer Bill Berry's departure a year later.


Hardcore fans thought the abrupt departure of the drummer would deal a blow so big the band would quit shortly after that. They didn't. Even made at least five other albums, with the latest released just last March of this year. What makes REM unique is that unlike some of their peers who achieved legendary cult statuses due to stopping at the peak of their artistic apex, they decided to milk the possibilities dry. 


Bands like Nirvana, Pavement, Radiohead, and Live all proclaim reverence to the group. And rightly so, because while Michael Stipe and Co may sound weird and so out of touch to today's contemporary music scene, their brand of DIY cool set the template for all other bands to follow. What I liked most about the band was that they were never saddled with the hubris that came with the 'indie' or college music tag. They helped define the indie genre that produced them, and at the same time maintained a comfortable distance from it that you rarely hear snotty indie aficionados name drop them in discussions. An indication that they never allowed to let themselves get pegged on a certain spot. And even when the later albums and songs were not as sharp or as potent as the singles that defined them, you'd have to give them credit for not copping out on it all too quickly.


And that, as they say, is that.

A nightmare, alright

I held off watching the remake of A Nightmare On Elm Street for a variety of reasons. One of which is Michael Bay being attached to the project. And the other, most important point: Why bother?


It's always Hollywood and its endless fascination with remakes. There's always an enterprising studio exec in there somewhere, with a bright idea that probably goes somewhere along these lines: "Hey! Why not reboot an 80s era blockbuster to fit today's braindead audience who has no chance of seeing the original despite the presence of Google and man's innate nature to go looking for things? Let's save them from that 'looking' and make truckloads of money while we're at it." 


If the studios are doing it to explore artistic reinterpretation, then Michael Bay is a modern day Fellini. 


The thing about remakes is that 9 times out of 10, most are simply sub-par, and dreadfully inferior versions of the original work (see: Psycho, The Ring). Unfortunately 'Nightmare...2010' is no exception. 


Remakes do unimaginable harm than good to almost everything, especially on movies that require suspense and rely heavily on the viewer's apprehension and uncertainty about what character will die on the next sequence.


And on a horror-thriller at that. What's the point of watching a 'thriller' if you already know what happened to every major character? For the new generation to be familiar with a 20+ year old celluloid boogeyman? Has spoonfeeding really degenerated to this?


There's the hype of it being the more 'serious and less comical interpretation' that is guaranteed to give you more scares than the original. That Jackie Earle Haley's Freddy Krueger is a lot more brutal and scary than the original Robert Englund version.

Freddy, 2010 incarnation

That would have been very promising except that Freddy is not Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers. Dour, silent killers with no sense of humor.

Freddy's appeal on the other hand, is in the various creative ways he toys with his victims. Always in that nasty sadistic toying and humiliation before going in for the kill.In a lot of ways "Nightmare..." is not exactly a 'horror/slasher' film than a curious fascination on how Freddy will come up with new ways to dispose of his prey.


One memorable sequence in an early installment had him transfer a teenager as a playable character in a video game he was playing. Or a woman bring eaten face-first by a television set. Or Johnny Depp being swallowed by the bed and regurgitated as a bloody mass of pulp back to the ceiling. Horrifying at first, but then you realize it's a movie not meant to be taken seriously.

 

Englund nailed the character's brilliance, nastiness, and most of all, amusing sense of humor and the acerbic kiss-offs that's noticeably missing in Haley's version. Not his fault---a good actor---but what can you do with a character that is so familiar and embedded so deeply in the pop culture landscape people practically know him as how Englund played him? 


They already started with Freddy vs Jason, a fun and satisfying fanboy celebrity deathmatch fantasy came true. Whatever these studio heads are smoking for them to see things like this and resort to the abominable stance of doing a remake, ought to be very expensive.


I wonder how that Fright Night remake is gonna pull it off.

'No'

The last time George Lucas  decided to improve the aspects of his original trilogy, fans (by this I mean people who loved the original set from 1977-1983) were outraged as to why he even bothered with 'fixing' something that isn't broken in the first place.


I had no problem with it at first. This was a chance to see the originals in the theater, the way they were meant to be seen, anyway. 


The only one I was lucky enough to catch on its original theatrical run was Return Of The Jedi in 1983. I was 4. Didn't even know what I was watching was the last part of an epic trilogy. Just that it completely blew my mind, specially those humming lightsabers and how bad guys can actually redeem themselves in the end. 


The earlier films, I watched repeatedly on the VCR. 


The 1997 special editions had, as was previously reported before they opened, some pretty good upgrades and additional scenes that were previously envisioned by Lucas back in '77 but was unable to do so due to the limitations in special effects technology then.

CGI Stormtroopers on CGI dewbacks absent in the original version

That was okay as far as I'm concerned. Who would not want a little additional refurbishing or addition to the landscapes you practically knew even in your sleep? As long as it did not interfere with the story or any major character's presentation.


What raised the red flag for me while watching it in the theater, particularly on A New Hope (Episode IV), was the scene where Han Solo was confronted by one of Jabba The Hutt's henchmen (Greedo). In the original '77 version, Solo shot the villain first.


On the upgraded version, the scene was played out in a way that made me suspect a defect in the movie reel they were using. There was an awkward shift in Solo's head that made it look as if he evaded Greedo's blast first, and fired his own to kill his nemesis. 

Turns out Lucas did not want him to look too ruthless by firing off first.

That scene turned everyone's favorite smuggler/gunslinger from a badass, tako-no-shit kind of person to a boy scout with a tough exterior. Whatever convoluted sense of morality Lucaswanted to impart on the Solo character, totally destroyed how people knew him.

For starters the character really is unlikeable. At least at first. He's supposed to be the balance to the all around good guy country boy hero in Luke Skywalker. You're supposed to view him as an opportunistic scumbag until the end when he turned out to be a great person after all. 


What's even more puzzling is that this is hardly one of the 'technological setbacks' Lucas kept complaining about that he wanted to improve. This is already about changing characters'  motivations and actions. 


It happened again in The Empire Strikes Back. Several key changes in the dialogues were noticeable. A bid for political correctness, most likely. Whatever 'upgrade' Lucas did in the effects department were surely eclipsed by the new things old characters were saying. In other words, the brilliant screenplay of Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan were not spared from the 'refurbishing'.  


But the worst part of it in the best part of the film as well.


This time in the climactic fight between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker in Bespin's Cloud City. 


In the 1980 version, instead of giving in to the temptations of power his father promised him if he turned to the dark side, the young warrior from Tatooine chose death by quietly jumping off the small platform he was holding unto. 


In the 'improved' version, Lucas decided to insert a long girlyman scream as he was falling to the chasm. It also sounded distrurbingly similar to the Emperor's own freefall screams when Vader threw him to his own death in Return Of The Jedi.

Gone was the brave freedom fighter who defied the lures of power. In its place was someone who was probably about to go on traipsing in to the dark side for all we know, and just slipped.

Even Lucas realized how stupid the move was and decided to remove it in the subsequent DVD releases.

But what really is infuriating about all these changes is how the guy's obsessive drive to 'perfect' the materials that practically does not need it as far as fans---the real owners---are concerned. Even that kind of motivation or drive is forgivable. At least that shows you the depth of the man's dedication to his art.

However, marketing ploys are another thing. Specially on specialty products like this you know for a fact are held in high esteem by rabid fanboys who'd automatically gobble anything remotely attached to the series.

Insanity for your art is one thing. Butchering a beloved piece of work to sell more of it, is another.

A few days ago news about the Blu Ray version of Return Of The Jedi caused another stir when a leaked footage of the scene in question was seen by most fans. 

Perhaps Mr. Lucas felt slighted about the negative reactions to Vader's prolonged "NOOO!" in Revenge Of The Sith, that he decided to rub it in by letting the iconic character at it again just to get even.

Or maybe he's just being magnanimous by offering audiences countless options on how they want their Star Wars served. Like a twisted version of the Choose Your Own Adventure series.

In any case, if there's any Lucasfilm movie that badly needs a major overhaul, it's Howard The Duck.

Ball tongue

I made a bet with my wife saying that Korn's opening song in last night's Araneta concert in Cubao would be "Blind", the first track off their impressive self-titled debut. We walked in presumably several minutes after the opener's (local group Slapshock) performance. There was a DJ/programmer onstage who was probably a tour member of the band entertaining the crowd and no doubt, doing a little intermission before the main show.He was playing tracks like Ramms+ein's "Du Hast" and The Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up", doing his best to alleviate the crowd's growing impatience for the band.


True enough, a few minutes later someone growled a guttural "ARE...YOU...READYYYYY?!!" from the darkness of the stage and the band erupted into a frenzy of throbbing intensity that sent audiences jumping around like living pogo sticks. I collected my winnings and joined the communal jumping and repetitive head-bobbing. 


Jonathan Davis, wearing a kilt, black tank top and badass boots and the rest of the band---guitarist Munky, bassist Fieldy and drummer Ray Luzier--- looked pumped and ready to prove once again that they are the real deal when it came to dealing out hard-driving music that is equal part introspective musing and antagonistic missiles delivered via Davis's trademark scat and unique singing and snarling.

The venue may not have been that packed (some areas within the upper boxes had entire sections devoid of people), but the band went at it like the true professionals they are and gave their all as if playing to an audience of thousands. Just a little surprised at the noise-mongers situated near the general admissions area earlier before the show started to have quieted down the moment the band took stage. You'd think the rowdy bunch shouting catcalls and demands to already start the show would live out to their promise earlier.


Pansies.


You'd think a crowd showing such passionate cries for attention would have enough left to take them through the rest of the show. Never did trees look so alive compared to most of them when the show was already on full swing. 


I admit my familiarity with the band is limited, having heard only the first three albums they released from 1994-1998. There were songs last night I was not familiar with or heard only in passing in some rock radio, but seeing the band performing live is a sight to behold. Specially Davis, whose gyrations and overall appearance was sure to leave a lasting impression to both hardcore fans and casual listeners alike. Someone at the back even asked why the hell the guy wore a 'skirt'. 


But the highlight of the evening was when "Shoots and Ladders" was played. I always wanted to see them play that on a live setting. The bagpipes adds a touch of majestic grandeur to an otherwise heavy and sludgy music. And it doesn't hurt that it was also the first time I actually saw someone playing a bagpipe on a concert. 


Singles like "Ball Tongue", "Freak On A Leash", "Falling Away From Me', and other songs were interconnected by a little playful medley that featured parts of Metallica's "One" and Queen's "We Will Rock You". They played masterfully, as expected from a band well-versed in hip-hop throb and hard rock crunch. But more than that, it was the band's good-natured humor that sold everyone.


I was afraid Fieldy's drop-tuned bass would blow the speakers from the inside-out, or flatten everyone's chest all the way to their backs with its incessant pounding. It was that heavy and no doubt the driving rhythm responsible to everyone's communal headbanging and jumping. Along with him and Davis, Munky (guitars) is the other original member left from the old line-up. Out of all the members I expected the guy to be the most aloof and quiet member but turned out to be a very warm and accommodating person to his fans, acknowledging the audience every now and then.


They ended the set with a promise to return. 


This time don't miss it.

Spellbound

Aside from Alan Rickman's Snape sharing a striking resemblance to Trent Reznor (circa 94's Self-Destruct tour), Celia Rodriguez and Joey De Leon's genetic offspring, the rest of the final movie installment for JK Rowling's titular wizard had plenty of other visual spectacles that tops all the other films in the series. Understandably so because as far as endings go, the second part of The Deathly Hallows ends with a bang.


The movie starts off immediately following the events of Part 1. Voldemort retrieving the Elder Wand and the protagonist trio on the quest to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes (items where Voldemort hid pieces of his soul) to have a fighting chance against their enemy. There was always an impending sense of doom one can feel while watching, like someone or something was lurking in every corner out to make another famous character disappear from the series forever. 

This is, after all, the second part of one story (and the last act of an entire series, at that). If there's anything to be gleaned about storytelling is that the boring part usually happens at the first act and it's all hyperkinetic pacing and climax at the end. At least when done properly. And David Yates and the screenplay by Steve Kloves handle the tale with just the right amount of precision and pathos to make even non-fans of the series appreciate what the characters are going through.


The cast members could practically do their respective roles in their sleep. But it was Alan Rickman's portrayal of Snape that got the most reactions from people. Especially so for those who had not read the books and got the surprise revelation about his role on the entire story. It was one of the most heart-rending vindication ever captured on film since Darth Vader came to his son's rescue and threw the Emperor to his death.


It's one of those things that make watching movies on the cinema worthwhile.

X-Men: First Class

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Matthew Vaughn’s take on the recent installment of the X-Men franchise is the director’s audacity to actually take a well-established series and wrench it out of its mold, and reshape it into a brilliant and original near-reboot that is a far-cry, yet similar in tone to the ones that Brian Singer did. 

When initial news about the prequel hit, it was greeted by an onslaught of dismissive and vitriolic kiss-offs from fans and casual moviegoers alike. Largely because it looked like it was jumping into the trend of putting out prequels with the hope of ressurecting a dying, or already dead franchise, and because Brett Ratner’s ‘Last Stand’ did not generally sit well with most critics and fans of the comics. It left a bad taste to most that any mention of making another movie remotely connected to the franchise is deemed to be a guaranteed failure.

But in 2010 Matthew Vaughn directed and produced Kick-Ass. A very underrated, but excellent and ultraviolent and funny movie that talked about extreme superhero fanboy fantasies. In a way it is a lot more ambitious than actual superhero movies. Here was a guy making a superhero movie about average people trying hard to be superheroes in a ‘realistic’ world and actually coming across the screen as such. As far as misifts doing things for the greater good is concerned, the guy is no stranger to the material.

Early reviews from advance screenings had critics comparing Vaughan’s work from JJ Abrams’s Star Trek. That was all the guarantee I needed to conclude the film won’t be a letdown. Or at least a minor disappointment at worst. 

The fact that I’m not a Star Trek fan and I walked out of that movie happy with what I saw is no easy feat for a director--- to make an almost exclusive series with a rabid fanbase palatable to the average moviegoer who couldn’t care less about quantum physics, technobabble coming from pointy-eared Vulcans, or the fact that the film is often identified with 40-year old geeks living in their mother’s basement. 

The film did not require a first-timer to read through all the fanfiction and sift the entire Star Trek Wiki before watching it just to get a rudimentary grasp on what he’s about to see. And that is the mark of a good movie. Or at least for an adaptation of an established material. 

And it it precisely the reason why Vaughn’s take on the ‘origin’ of the seminal super group worked. I was seated next to moviegoers I knew who, based on their comments, had zero knowledge about the main characters yet managed to appreciate and empathize with them (“Sana wag mamatay si Charles”, “Ay… naging magkalaban pala sila?”). Even cheering constantly that proved to be a little annoying. But I do understand their enthusiasm. It is a genuinely good movie after all.

A large chunk of the credit goes to the two lead actors. James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender (Professor Xavier and Magneto respectively) work through the tale of two friends-turned bitter enemies with great precision. It’s great to watch the two bounce off each other’s differences and complement the other’s shortcomings. It contrasted the different circumstances on how the two men were brought up: Xavier in a life of wealth and surrounded by people who loved him; and Lehnserr being a concentration camp lab rat and holocaust survivor-turned Nazi hunter.

Kevin Bacon’s Sebastian Shaw was unfortunately not given that much breathing room as far as showing off or engaging other mutants in a titanic face-off of pitting his full power against his enemy’s (presumably Magneto) than his henchmen. The little-known Riptide and Azazel had the most fun. But as the leader of The Hellfire Club, he nailed the smug, arrogant air of the mutant aristocrat with a crazed Darwinian theory about human evolution that ultimately found its way to Magneto.

As for the discrepancies with the comics/continuity that most purists have been complaining about, what can I say? Go make your own damn movie.

Radio for your head: Why Radiohead elitists make me puke

Radiohead's 'Creep' was one of the few alternative-era songs I didn't respond to favorably at first when it hit the local airwaves. 


I was in high school listening to existential and angry music of that era like Metallica, Pearl Jam Guns N' Roses, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Megadeth, Alice In Chains, and the rest of the brooding, throat-shearing, guitar shredding, and flannel-clad, Doc Martens-wearing posse that dominated the pop music climate back then. 


What struck me with that song was how whiny and un-badass sounding it was next to bare-knuckled alternative rock singles like 'Rape Me' and 'Jeremy'. Me and a good friend even joked about the band's trying-hard attempt to sound grunge-y with that all-too familiar crunch guitar noise that comes out of nowhere just before the chorus hits.


That lead singer Thom Yorke sings in a higher falsetto register that sounded too... girly... compared to the popular testosterone-heavy, baritone growl that Eddie Vedder unwittingly set loose upon the world to be used as an instrument of evil by the likes of Scott Stapp and Nickelback, did not help at all. The band members even looked like scrawny, effeminate Vogue model extras who probably got bullied all the time when they were still in school.

Due to endless rotations on MTV, label promotions and strong word of mouth following, Radiohead was ushered into the alternative scene with their unique brand of music that spawned at least another single ('Stop Whispering') that I found more catchy than their banner hit.


But Pablo Honey (1993) won't make it to my collection for at least another ten years. By this time, I have already concluded The Bends (1995) is the best Radiohead album (and one of the best of all time). The overhyped OK Computer (1997) was good, but it was a little too electronica for the band. I like electro-beats, and mechanical bleeps just as much as the next Kraftwerk and Aphex Twin fan---no doubt the template with what they wanted to emulate that time---but I always liked them better singing introspective songs with traditional instruments with the least assistance from synthesizers and sound processors. Case in point: 'High And Dry', 'Fake Plastic Trees', 'Just' and 'Lurgee'. 


Devastating songs that hit you straight in the chest instead of the intellect that mutated into something annoying via rabid fanboys of the band during their later years.


Call me an ignorant philistine but every single Radiohead review, forum discussion, and even the occasional celeb rant almost always contain words likes 'avant-garde', 'erudite', 'artful', 'profound' 'boldest artistic statement', 'genius' and every other intellectual jerkoff terms people scoured the thesaurus with just to describe the band's music. I have never seen/read so much hubris outside of a few forums and video sites that are frequented by snarky jazz music, and Stanley Kubrick enthusiasts.





They are exceptional musicians. Make no mistake about it. Definitely up there with the greats like The Beatles and Miles Davis. But what I do find annoying is the constant edification of the band's fans like they were incapable of making a bad-sounding record because, well, they are Radiohead. It's one of the universal truths, apparently. Understandable behavior from fans, of course. But I suspect a more phoney motivation in that type of following.


There's this unwritten rule that floats around music snobs and indie circles that you can never go wrong with weird.  Of course, the moment MTV plays you, you cease being weird and it's adios muchachos as far as street-cred and artistic integrity is concerned. Even if you're a musician utilizing chainsaws as major instruments or singing about the most mundane things and giving it a little twist by, say, doing something totally self-deprecating and crazy but art-y, that (usually) bespectacled twits are gonna call deep and artistic.


Radiohead are equal parts pop and indie music, in that they are often featured prominently in some of the most popular music rags like Rolling Stone Magazine and SPIN;  be seen on  MTV and other music channels, and can even elicit a slight ripple of familiarity form today's TOP 40 audience. And indie, because most of the latest material the band had produced aren't exactly designed for Starbucks, high school proms, or your average Katy Perry-listening teenager. They're just popular and relevant while retaining a sense of being alienating to most casual listeners, that a lot of the members of their fan base lap up. Like what I previously said about most indie music fans, they'd gobble anything not particularly appealing to most because they see/hear something most of the braindead MTV audience do not. Ergo, superior taste and intellect than most.


Not to mention the elitism and pomposity that goes with the honor of being a 'fan'. Time and again I have witnessed people insinuate, even in a respectful discussion, that a person is "too far off in the mainstream conditioning" or simply" just do not understand the band" when he expresses an opposing, but respectful opinion. Instead of a regular 'its just your opinion' kiss-off, you'd get a full page, single-space lecture on how bad your taste is for not comprehending the glory that is the band. And their boldness to push the limits of music to another level. Rolling Stone writer Rob Sheffield received it with both barrels when he spoke about the band's latest opus in less than flattering terms.


Radiohead has become the musical equivalent of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some parts are spectacular, some are not; and you don't particularly get it.


But you just have to like it.