Tag: movies

Beneath the Escape from the Battle of the Ranking of the Planet of the Apes series!

…Look, I’m an ape man. I dig King Kong, I dig comic books with apes on the cover, and I really dig the Planet of the Apes saga. 

As I’ve written about before, I’ve always loved the Apes series, with its distinctly bleak and apocalyptic vision. It’s versatile enough as a concept that we’re seeing the tenth Apes movie opening this week, the very nifty looking Kingdom Of The Planet Of The Apes. 

Unlike several other long running sci-fi series, the Apes saga generally has had a higher success rate for its sequels, which generally haven’t felt like laboured intellectual property cash-ins (I’m looking at you, Terminator and Alien franchises). There’s only one, maybe two truly bad movies in the whole series, in my humble opinion.

That said, in honour of the 10th Apes extravaganza, here’s my entirely personal Beneath the Escape from the Ranking of the Apes movies (pre-Kingdom!):

9. Planet of the Apes (2001) – Tim Burton’s oh-so-millennial reboot showed that you should never try and just remake the original POTA (which, I hope, the current series isn’t working its way towards doing, either). A wooden Mark Wahlberg stars in a strange sideways version of the original’s astronaut journey. Like many Burton movies it often looks great but the story is a bit of a mess with a legendarily dumb ending. The single best thing about this movie is the excellent makeup for most of the apes, especially sneering Tim Roth. (A freakish design for Helena Bonham Carter, on the other hand, manages to look worse than the female apes did in the 1960s.) 

8. Battle For The Planet Of The Apes (1973) – The least of the original series is also by far the cheapest. Made for what looks like about $25, it’s got an OK plot that revolves around the final days of man and ape attempting to live together kind of peacefully, touches on the mutants from Beneath The Planet Of The Apes, and as always Roddy McDowall is worth watching in his fourth turn in an Apes film. But the sluggish movie lacks any scale – the “battle” of the title is about a dozen humans puttering around in off-road vehicles, and everything just feels a bit exhausted by this point. 

• Everything from here on up is still a very good Apes movie, in my humble ape-inion – just varying degrees of personal preference and heck, my rankings might change on a daily basis. 

7. War of the Planet of the Apes (2017) – Up until now the latest in the series, this concludes the Caesar reboot ‘trilogy’ in a typically bleak, cynical Apes fashion. Humanity is truly falling apart now, and even starting to lose their voices in a callback to the first movie. Woody Harrelson’s fanatical, scenery-chewing Colonel is one of the series’ best human villains, and Caesar truly becomes a Christ-like figure with all his suffering in this one. At nearly 2 1/2 hours it’s a bit overlong and does bog down a bit in the prison camp scenes, and there’s a little too much torture and cruelty, even for an Apes movie, but it rallies for the biggest battle seen yet in the climax. 

6. Conquest Of The Planet Of the Apes (1972) – So how did the Apes take over the world? This bleak (surprise!) third sequel to the original attempts to fill in the blanks by showing a subservient class of apes basically used as slaves one of those fascist-looking stark 1970s movie urban futurescapes. The parallels with the civil rights movement aren’t subtle, but mostly effective. Led by Roddy McDowall’s Caesar, the apes rise up to overthrow their masters. Hamstrung by a lower budget – the ape masks look particularly grotty in group scenes, and most of the action appears to take place in a few office blocks – Conquest is still a solid, hardboiled franchise entry, with probably McDowall’s best performance. The “theatrical” cut went for a neutered ending; if they’d used the darker original ending it’d probably go up a place or two here. 

5. Escape From The Planet of the Apes (1971) – The most “light-hearted” of Apes movies, until of course everything goes horribly wrong. Blow up the Earth in the last one? No problem! Sending ape survivors Cornelius and Zira back in time makes for some great broadly comic 1970s culture clash moments, but as always in the Apes timeline, darkness beckons. An inventive way of continuing the series and creating a time loop, but the comedy and tragedy make for a somewhat uneasy mix. Still, I always get a kick out of watching a charming ape couple swaggering around ‘70s California. 

4. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) – After series reboot Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes, the world as we know it is crumbling due to war and pandemic, as Caesar and his apes form their own world in the redwood forest and come to clash with human survivors in San Francisco. Like most Apes movies, it’s about people and apes trying co-exist and failing. The modern-day special effects are remarkable – no masks here! – as we start to see ape society splinter between hard-liners and moderates, while the human characters are sympathetic and well-rounded. It’s epic, but full of sharp character moments too.

3. Beneath The Planet of the Apes (1970) – Sure, this one is a strange, strange first sequel, muddled up by Charlton Heston more or less refusing to return except in a cameo, a whole goopy mutant human society being introduced seemingly out of nowhere, and one of the darkest, most cynical endings a mainstream G-rated movie has ever had. Yet I still love it precisely because it goes so hard – that final fade to black scarred me as a young ape-lover and still blows me away to this day. Whatever its complicated origins, Beneath the Planet of the Apes is a sequel that feels like it isn’t just about making more money and plotting easter eggs for sequels. There’s an eerie, doomed tone to the entire movie – that fiery vision of crucified apes and bleeding statues! – that carries me over some of the clumsier plot holes. Despite the end of the world thing and all, of course, it was only the beginning for this unkillable series.   

2. Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) – Rewatching this series reboot recently, I was amazed at how gripping the emotional journey of young Caesar (Andy Serkis in the first of three astoundingly good motion-capture performances) is. Set pre-apocalypse, this one aims to tell us how we ended up with a “Planet of the Apes” through a combination of chance and human-created plague. Unique in this entire series, it’s recognisably set in “our” world, and it’s really the only movie where we see a human and an ape truly have an affectionate familial bond (James DeFranco’s turn here is superb). Perhaps it has less “action” than some of the movies, but the Golden Gate bridge climax remains thrilling and for me it’s one of the best of the saga. It’s no wonder that unlike Burton’s flop, this energetic reimagining enabled the series to carry on for four movies and counting. 

1. Planet of the Apes (1968) – The original and still the standard for this series. Charlton Heston’s aggressive, cynical spaceman, that dissonant and unforgettable soundtrack, the still amazing makeup work, Roddy McDowall and Kim Hunter’s endearing apes, those vast desert vistas, Maurice Evans’ conniving Dr Zaius and what is probably the greatest twist ending in movie history. No wonder we’re all still returning to apeland 50-plus years on. 

Great Caesar’s ghost! Eight of my favourite journalism editors in fiction

Somehow, I’ve ended up working in journalism an awfully long time. And in that time, I have had many good editors, a great editor or two, and couple of terrible editors. I’ve also been an editor myself many times (I’ll leave it to others to judge where I fell on the scale myself). 

An editor isn’t as glamorous as the headline-chasing feisty street-level reporter, perhaps. But in this age where journalism seems to be constantly under siege from all sides, editors do matter. They guide, they teach, they question, they correct, they set the tone and they can make or break a media outlet. My industry has changed a hell of a lot in the years since I started, but no matter how many apps, algorithms and pivots you throw at it, you need an editor in the mix to make quality journalism. 

So here’s a tribute to the bleary-eyed, coffee-fuelled, rage-filled and yet quietly inspirational editors, with a look at eight editors portrayed in fiction who have always inspired me in my own wayward journalism journey, for good or bad. 

Lou Grant, The Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970-1977) played by Ed Asner. When I think of a newsroom editor, the rumpled face of Ed Asner leaps to mind. No-nonsense, idealistic and gruff but with a heart of gold, Asner’s Lou Grant was the comic anchor of the still-classic Mary Tyler Moore Show. “Spunk? I hate spunk!” he growls at Mary in the very first episode. Asner played a sitcom character who was still a believable editor, and after the delightfully wacky Mary Tyler Moore Show ended its run he went on to play the exact same character in a very different drama that lasted for five seasons. Now that’s adapting your skill set to changing times. 

Perry White, Superman comics: The greatest editor in comic books, even when his newspaper staff appeared to only consist of Clark Kent, Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane in the glorious Silver Age days.  White is old-school journalism to the max, firmly pushing for truth, justice and the American way, just like the Daily Planet’s office mascot Superman. White is constantly shoving his reporters out the door on wacky circulation-boosting assignments, hunting for that story that will make him shout “Great Caesar’s ghost!” In a world filled with kryptonite, Bizarros, giant alien gorillas, fifth-dimensional imps and more, Perry White is a glorious constant. I would work for Perry White any day of the week. 

Jane Craig, Broadcast News (1987) played by Holly Hunter: I can’t pretend I know what it’s like to be a woman in a newsroom, but in this classic ‘80s romantic comedy, we watch Hunter’s intense and driven Jane Craig rise through the ranks and juggle relationships with two good but flawed journalists (the amazing Albert Brooks and William Hurt) while never giving up on her own goals. Hurt’s vapid pretty face and Brooks’ charisma-challenged newsman represent the two sides of journalism that never quite come together, while Hunter – trying to keep her principles in a constantly changing industry – is the one who really succeeds in the business.

Charles Foster Kane, Citizen Kane (1941) played by Orson Welles: Is he a good editor-publisher? After all, Welles’ masterpiece is about the rise and fall of Charles Foster Kane. Yet while he’s an egotistical, perpetually unsatisfied tyrant, what we see of Kane’s managerial skills in Citizen Kane also shows us that he’s a darned good newspaperman, hustling for scoops, scandals and attention. Yeah, he bends ethical lines a fair bit, but I’m willing to cut him a little slack as he dates back to the peak era of yellow journalism led by Hearst, Pulitzer and the like. I don’t imagine I’d like to work for Kane, but I’d sure as hell read any newspaper he put out. 

Charles Lane, Shattered Glass (2003) played by Peter Sarsgaard: Shattered Glass remains one of my favourite, still rather underrated journalism movies, about the plagiarist liar journalist Stephen Glass and his unravelling. Sarsgaard is fantastic as the unassuming editor who begins to smell a rat in Glass’ fabulist copy, and doggedly purses the loose ends to discover what the real truth is. Calm but determined and intensely offended by Glass’s stream of lies, Sarsgaard’s Lane makes the dull business of factchecking seem like a spy thriller. 

Ben Bradlee, All The President’s Men (1976) played by Jason Robards. Robards is the only one on this list who won an Academy Award for playing an editor, and rightfully so – his inscrutable, steel-eyed Bradlee is the axis around which Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford’s Watergate investigation revolves in All The President’s Men. Without Bradlee’s guiding hand and consent, the story wouldn’t be told. Like the best editors, he’s kind of terrifying, too. 

Robbie Robertson, Spider-Man comics: Look, Spider-Man’s nemesis J. Jonah Jameson is undeniably entertaining, but firmly belongs on the worst editor list. How worst? He fires Peter Parker about twice a week, lied repeatedly about Spider-Man in print, hired supervillains to kill him, and on several occasions personally piloted giant robots to beat up Spider-Man. That’s a bad editor. But shift your gaze slightly to the side to consider Jameson’s managing editor at The Daily Bugle, Robbie Robertson, who for decades has been a calm, firm but steady presence in the newsroom, frequently dealing with his impulsive boss’s rants and focused far more on truth than agendas. Jameson makes all the noise; Robertson gets the damn paper out. 

Dave Nelson, NewsRadio (1995-1999) played by Dave Foley: As the news director of WNYX, perky Dave Nelson is a sweet-faced rube thrown into a lion’s den of ego, eccentrics and mania. Surrounded by blowhards like Phil Hartman’s anchor Bill McNeal and a variety of other kooks including Stephen Root, Andy Dick and Maura Tierney, Foley as an editor spends almost the entire run of this classic sitcom putting out fires. And you know, that’s often what an editor’s job is – dealing with your staff and juggling all the balls at once. While he occasionally snaps, Dave Nelson simply being able to survive in a radio newsroom bubbling over with complicated personalities is an accomplishment all by itself. 

There’s a Tom Ripley for every generation

Everyone loves a good psychopath, and although she’s been dead for nearly 30 years now, Patricia Highsmith’s elegantly amoral creation Tom Ripley is having a moment.

Thanks to a shiny new Netflix series and continuing interest in Highsmith’s prickly, propulsive novels, Ripley is still everywhere. After all, we’re in an age of con men, grifters and people who consistently refuse to apologise or show remorse… really, it’s like 2024 was a time made for Ripley.

There have been many different Ripleys on screen over the years, with Andrew Scott’s tense performance in the Netflix miniseries just the tip of the murderous iceberg.

Still, for my money, you can’t go past Highsmith’s taut original five novels, which still hold up terrifically well as the story of a man without a conscience.

The first, The Talented Mr Ripley, is the one that has been adapted multiple times. Tom Ripley is a small-time criminal who ends up recruited by a rich businessman to persuade his dilettante son Dickie Greenleaf to return to America from Italy. But once in Italy, Ripley finds himself consumed with envy over Dickie’s easy life and thus begins a series of events that leads to the birth of one of fiction’s most memorable murderers. 

Anthony Minghella’s 1999 movie of The Talented Mr. Ripley is the gold standard of Ripley on screen – with honestly one of the best casts of the past 30 years – Matt Damon as Ripley, bronzed Jude Law as Dickie Greenleaf, Gwyneth Paltrow, Cate Blanchett and Philip Seymour Hoffman all basking under the sun-drenched Italian skies. It’s a gorgeous movie which makes its violence all the more harrowing and Damon’s subtle, yearning performance remains one of his best. 

But while Minghella’s Oscar-nominated hit is Ripley’s biggest cinematic moment, the character actually made his film debut way back in 1960 in René Clément’s French adaptation Purple Noon. It shares much of the same colourful excess and elegance of Minghella’s take. Many people think Alain Delon was the most handsome actor of all time, and how could one argue? More controlled and less human than Damon’s Ripley, he’s a living work of art. While it deviates a fair bit from the book, Purple Noon in my mind stands close to Minghella in depicting Ripley’s first, most awful crime.

The new Netflix series Ripley eschews colour for a glittering black and white look. Like most Talented Mr Ripley adaptations it’s beautiful to look at, and full of sharp little details as it unfolds over a leisurely eight hours, which gives the story room to breathe (although it can be a bit too slow-moving at times). Andrew Scott of Sherlock and Fleabag fame has a nice haunted charisma about him as his Ripley slides into murder, although at 47 he’s a little on the old side to play young Ripley. 

Yet, I have to admit, while I quite like The Talented Mr Ripley in all his film incarnations, I really enjoy the other four novels in the series, where a slightly older Ripley has settled down with a gorgeous, enigmatic cipher of a rich wife at an estate in France, living the life of leisure he so adored in Dickie Greenleaf’s day. The “origin of Ripley” in the earlier books is a great yarn, but there’s something even more alluring to me about a Ripley who’s settled into luxury and yet still has dark urges he has to give in to. Much of the ‘charm’ of the Ripley novels is seeing how this sociopath lures you into rooting for him as he attempts to get away with his various crimes. 

Highsmith’s second book, Ripley Under Ground, a twisty narrative revolving around art forgery, suicide and deception, introduced the adult Ripley, juggling his comfortable life and his homicidal habits, and is a fine introduction to his changed circumstances. It received a pretty obscure adaptation in 2005 starring a rather awkward Saving Private Ryan’s Barry Pepper – and I have seen it, but so long ago that I barely recall it. 

Ripley’s Game, the third novel, has gotten two high-profile adaptations over the years, both departing a bit from Highsmith’s original but nicely capturing the sick morality game Ripley plays with a victim after an unintentional slight. It’s a great example of how Ripley plays the ordinary man, but conceals a beast within.  

As a very offbeat take on Ripley’s Game, Wim Wenders’ 1977 The American Friend is quite a good movie, but casting Dennis Hopper as Ripley – in a cowboy hat! – turns it into something rather different than the source material. Hopper’s Ripley is twitchy and eccentric, and it feels like there’s far more Hopper than Ripley in the mix. 

The 2002 version of Ripley’s Game was not a huge success, but has held up fairly well – its main charm and detriment is the casting of sinister John Malkovich as Ripley. His Ripley is blatantly malign, pushing the story a bit harder in the direction of making Ripley a supervillain rather than a man without a conscience. But Malkovich is, as always, great fun to watch as the sneering Ripley, and unlike Hopper, he doesn’t feel miscast – just a bit on the unsubtle side. 

Meanwhile, the final two books in Highsmith’s series are ripe for the plucking – The Boy Who Followed Ripley features a twisted young ‘fan’ of Ripley, while Ripley Under Water closes out the series by having all of Ripley’s past ghosts come back to haunt him in a solid thriller. They’re all great quick reads that linger in your mind. 

I’ll always lean towards Highsmith’s tightly controlled novels over all the Ripley adaptations, I reckon, but Ripley has still proven remarkably endurable over the decades for film. None of the adaptations have been terrible and some, like the glossy Minghella epic, Alain Delon’s peerless sculpted beauty and Malkovich’s sneering elder statesman, have been great. 

There’s a little Tom Ripley in most of us, I believe, and sometimes, there’s nothing quite like watching a murderer get away with it, and pondering the strange charms one can find in the evil that men do. 

Movies I Have Never Seen #27: Tank Girl (1995)

What is it? A famous bomb that slowly has inched its way back towards being a cult classic in some circles, Tank Girl is one of those comic book movies that came out before comic book movies were everywhere. It’s based on some freewheeling British comics by Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett (who’d go on to co-create the band Gorillaz). Lori Petty stars as Tank Girl, a spunky punk-rock survivor in a vaguely post-apocalyptic Australian Outback world (in the far, far future of… gulp … 2033) where water is a commodity, ruled over by the corporation of the dictatorial Kesslee (Malcolm McDowell). Tank Girl becomes dragged into an uprising against corporate power, and joins forces with other outcasts and mutant kangaroos to fight evil in a very riot grrll way. While it’s remembered as a flop, it turns out Tank Girl is a gleefully oddball and slightly ahead-of-its-time feminist curio of a world before every comic book movie was envisioned as part of a cinematic universe. 

Why I never saw it: In a sign of increasing senility, I always lumped Tank Girl into the list of movies I had seen at one point and forgot about (I did work for a video store a little back in the 1990s, after all). The back shelves of defunct video stores were littered with movies like The Phantom, Mystery Men, Barb Wire and Spawn that were clunky, low-budget attempts to turn comic books into gold. Most of them were awful, plagued by terrible scripts, dodgy special effects, or both, but at the same time they were often kind of interesting movies. Tank Girl failed at the box office, mystified most critics, and mostly went on to be known as that movie that featured rapper Ice-T under a lot of latex as a mutant kangaroo. 

Does it measure up to its rep? Tank Girl is just original enough to become bizarrely enjoyable as Petty trash-talks her way through a dried-up world. The chaotic production was directed by Rachel Talalay, in an era where a woman directing a big blockbuster attempt was even rarer than it is now. Tank Girl has attitude and style mixed in with gritty practical effects and a little amateurism (those mutant kangaroos won’t win any make-up Oscars, mate). Iggy Pop pops up for about 30 seconds as a pedophile Tank Girl beats down, because why not? There’s also the ever-enjoyable scenery chewing of McDowell and a very young Naomi Watts as Tank Girl’s shy sidekick. The movie combines a smashing ‘90s soundtrack with cool colourful animated sequences styled after the comic strips. The movie isn’t anywhere near as raunchy or anarchic as the more free-wheeling comics, giving Tank Girl a more traditional heroic arc and a family, but it’s got enough of their basic spirit to feel rather fresh even now. 

Worth seeing? Set aside your expectations for machine-tooled perfection and the kind of glossy anonymity too many recent superhero movies have settled for. Still, Tank Girl is a clear forerunner of recent superhero movie starlet Harley Quinn, a kick ass, anarchic female antihero who isn’t afraid to mix it up with any foe. I won’t claim Tank Girl is some lost masterpiece but at its heart, it’s kind of daft fun, with just enough of the punky frenzy of the British comics to make it still feel quietly a little revolutionary. They don’t make ’em like this any more.

Yeah, OK, the Oscars are silly. But I still love to watch.

Yes, the Academy Awards are self-indulgent, pointless arbiters of artistic excellent, a vapid popularity contest, constantly make the wrong calls, et cetera. But still, for nearly every year of the last 40 or so Oscars, I watch them. 

For the third year in a row, I’ll be live-blogging the action over at Radio New Zealand on Monday our time, and I’ll admit I look forward to it – it’s a welcome break from political chaos, climate apocalypse and general creeping internet-induced psychosis and hate. 

I’ve watched the Oscars since I was a fidgety pre-teen, and still remember my first, the 1982 Oscars. It was the year of Best Picture winner Chariots of Fire – a movie I’ve still never seen – and that plinky inspirational piano theme felt like it was played every five minutes. 

It was so long ago the host was Johnny Carson! The ceremony, 40+ years ago, seems weirdly low-tech now – dig the grainy still photos to introduce the Best Picture nominees – and how is it that Raiders of the Lost Ark received the least applause of the five? 

I watched early Oscars celebrating what seemed like, to me, boring adult movies like Gandhi and Terms of Endearment, and liked the novelty of seeing, in a pre-internet age, movie stars outside of their day job. It wasn’t until 1988 or so and Rain Man that movies I had actually seen started winning the top gong. For a kid who was just getting interested in movies, the Oscars felt like a Cliff’s Notes course introducing me to a wider world, and how movies were put together. (You could win an award for sound? For costumes?) 

A lot of folks whose film takes I respect still loathe the Oscars, but I don’t know – it’s the kid in me who was mesmerised watching actors in tuxedos and fancy frocks all those years ago, I suppose, but I just find it a fun moment to pause and celebrate the existence of movies.

Yes, yes, there are far more important things in the news universe, but a bit of levity doesn’t take away the gravity of other events. Stories keep us sane. During the freaky otherness of the pandemic, one of the happiest moments for me was when we finally got to go to the movies again.

Now, I’ll argue about the actual winners, losers and snubs at the Oscars till the cows come home, but I don’t get mad about it. We’re all too mad in general these days, aren’t we?

Forrest Gump’s Oscar doesn’t really take away a thing from Pulp Fiction being the infinitely better, more memorable film, does it? CODA was an amiable optimistic film, but Jane Campion’s The Power Of The Dog was tougher, smarter and visually unforgettable. Martin Scorsese should have a dozen Oscars by now, not just one for The Departed. The great directors who never won a Best Director Oscar is a list of the greats – Hitchcock, Kurosawa, Lynch, Kubrick. Meanwhile, Kevin Costner has a Best Director Oscar? Et cetera, et cetera, you get the point.

The Oscars get it “wrong” more than they get it right, I admit. Yet there’s been plenty of times I’ve cheered to see a film or a performance that grabbed me recognised, from Kathryn Bigelow becoming the first woman to take Best Director for The Hurt Locker to foreign film Parasite’s plucky Best Picture win to the beautiful good cheer of Ke Huay Quan going from that kid in The Goonies to an Oscar winner last year. 

I am trying to gripe and be mean less in an age of meanness, but I’ll admit one thing that always gets my goat is the arbiters of “what matters.” Multiple things can matter in this world. The Oscars are not the final word on anything in the world of film. But I’ve had a blast watching them most years, even at their most tedious, pandering and predictable.

There’s a lot of self-indulgent talk about the “magic” of movies this time of year, which makes it sound like movies cure cancer and balance the national debt all at the same time. 

But you know, you take a blank screen and add some moving pictures, sound and a few sprinkles of humour, horror or heartbreak, and it makes a story, can draw a portrait of a life. When you really think about it, if that ain’t a little magic, I don’t know what is. 

Shh, I’m on holiday. But say, have you bought my book?

Technically, I’m on holiday! But here’s an update on a few miscellaneous projects I’ve been involved with to share so I can keep my Social Influencer TM status:

Thanks to everyone so far who has ordered the amazing, spectacular Best Of Amoeba Adventures Book which is now available on Amazon worldwide as a dirt-cheap shiny paperback or a deluxe fancy-pants hardcover! In case you missed my shilling for it before, it’s 350 pages, more than a dozen stories from my 1990s small press comics and a great introduction to the Prometheus the Protoplasm comics I’ve somehow spent almost 38 years (ugh) dabbling in. If you haven’t ordered it yet, give it a shot and help me support my expensive habits. It’s tax deductible!* (*Might not actually be tax deductible.) If you have ordered it, please leave a review or star rating on Amazon to keep the algorithm overlords happy!

Meanwhile, over at the hip website Bored Panda that all the kids are into, I was interviewed for a little piece this week on the aesthetic of one of my fave filmmakers, Wes Anderson – go read it here!

Back to comics, perpetual motion machine Jason DeGroot has been organising a massive jam comic featuring dozens of small press creators, The Sunday Jam! A lot of these projects fizzle out but this one has been barrelling along all year with a new page each week, and I was pleased to take part with a page back around Christmas. Coincidentally mine is the last page in the new Collected Sunday Jam Volume 1 gathering up the first 28 pages of this epic, oddball and sometimes totally insane adventure! You can order the collected Jam for a mere $5 right here, and enjoy a mad sampler of small press talent, or give the project so far a read if you’re jam-curious. Do it!

More regular blog posting will resume in March!

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the internet…

It’s Oscar nominations day! Let us share in the joy of headlines that aren’t full of sadness, despair and such and celebrate what was actually a pretty good year for film. In my status as Radio New Zealand Official Academy Awards Correspondent (TM) here’s my take on the nominees and a look at a few New Zealand-linked possible winners:

Oscars 2024: Who will win, who got snubbed, and where NZ is in the mix

Meanwhile, I’ve also got a book review in this week’s issue of the New Zealand Listener magazine on Michel Faber‘s excellent new sprawling look at sound and our relationship to it, Listen: On Music, Sound and Us —

Review: Music-loving novelist Michel Faber on the psychology and sociology behind the sounds that keep us hooked (Paywall)

El Santo, perhaps the greatest superhero – and wrestler – of all time

He fought Dracula. He was a dashing international spy. He invented a time machine. He wrestled mummies, battled Martians, dropped a choke-hold on a werewolf, and inexplicably became a 19th century cowboy. And he did it all while wearing a shiny silver wrestling luchador mask that he never, ever took off in his films. 

I’m talking of course about one of the world’s most famous action movie stars of the ‘60s and ‘70s – El Santo, “the Saint,” aka Mexican wrestler Rodolfo Guzman Huerta, who parlayed his career into the ring into starring in a flurry of more than 50 movies between 1958 and 1982. While he is a cult attraction in the US, he was the king of the hugely popular lucha libre genre in Mexico, the MCU of its day. 

Santo did it all – the titles of some of his flicks are like little tastes of what to expect: Santo vs The Evil Brain. Santo vs Blue Demon In Atlantis. Santo In The Revenge of the Vampire Women. Santo In The Wax Museum. Santo Vs Frankenstein’s Daughter. Santo And Blue Demon Vs Dracula and The Wolf Man. (Take that, modern-day multiverses!)

Santo In the Treasure of Dracula is a fine example of the lunacy of Santo’s world. Clad in a flashy suit and his omnipresent mask, crimefighter Santo has somehow invented a time machine (Austin Powers fans will quickly note its design) and to test it out sends his girlfriend back in time, where she ends up meeting Dracula and falling under his power. It all ends up with a wrestling match battle against Dracula and his minions in the modern day to save Santo’s girlfriend. 

I’ve only seen six or seven of the more than 50 Santo movies so far, but they’re addictive goofy fun. You can see how the Santo factory became such a strange low-fi phenomenon in Mexico. Santo fits anywhere, whether it’s fighting drug lords or beating up vampires or just fighting all the monsters.

A key element in every Santo film is that other than a stray remark or two, nobody really blinks an eye about this stocky bruiser in a wrestling mask walking about fighting evil. It’s part of the Santo charm to see his silver mask blend in with spies or cowboys or government officials, simply part of the furniture like Batman. In Santo Vs The Riders of Terror, for instance, he simply shows up in an old-fashioned Western, unquestioned, helping the townspeople against a gang of bandits and lepers (!).

They’re not exactly great movies, but they’re fast moving pulp, and kind of exotically charming to someone who grew up on a steady diet of American action movie junk food. Some of the many movies filtered over to America, and have been coming out in several nice little boutique blu-ray editions recently, while dozens more flicks can only be found by hunting the internet. 

And of course, like how a Rocky Balboa movie has to include a few ring matches, Santo movies will almost always find a way to include a professional wrestling match or two, in addition to Santo himself putting the smackdown on whoever his latest foe of the day is. 

Santo himself is a calm zen centre at the heart of these films. Rather than camping it up, Huerta was relentlessly calm and focused as his saintly alter-ego, which adds to his mysterious allure.

Despite Draculas and Frankensteins and mummies running amok, Santo simply is and always will be himself. He rarely shows anger or any signs of a real inner life outside his battles. 

In many ways, the Santo films feel like they were made by a talented 10-year-old boy deciding what would be the coolest movies ever made and executing his ideas.

And you know, that’s sometimes all you want out of cinema, isn’t it? 

60 years of Cage: Happy Nicolas Cage Day to those who celebrate

There are movie stars, and there are character actors, but in my mind the best are those who combine the two, and few actors have carved out as inimitable a career as Nicolas Cage, who turns 60 years old today.

Cage’s star has risen and fallen and risen again over the years, but in my mind, even in the worst movies he’s starred in – and there’s a LOT of movies, over 100 – he’s almost always watchable, and more often than not, he elevates the material. 

He’s been a meme, an indie film superstar, an action hero, an Academy Award winner and nominee, a comic genius and a steady presence in an awful lot of disposable ‘video on demand’ drek with one-word titles like “Arsenal”. 

In my younger, svelte days he’s the only movie star I’ve been vaguely told I resembled (it’s probably just the Nik/Nic names). I watched Vampire’s Kiss and Raising Arizona on VHS tapes and wanted to know who this guy was. I cheered when he brought his oddball sensibility to ‘90s actioners like Face/Off and The Rock. And I still will hit the cinema for most of his major movies, from his recent excellent loosely themed apocalyptic series of films to catching the trippy Dream Scenario just a few weeks back. 

To celebrate ol’ Saint Nic’s 60th, here’s my pick for 25 of my favourite Nic Flicks in chronological order:

1. Valley Girl, 1983 – All eyeballs and nose, an 18-year-old Cage kicks off his career subverting ‘80s teen comedies in this sweet goofy treat. 

2. Raising Arizona, 1987 – I don’t think I’ve ever watched a Cage movie as many times as this Coen brothers masterpiece. “You ate sand?” “We ate sand.”

3. Vampire’s Kiss, 1988 – In which Cage, as a man who thinks he’s a vampire, decides that you can never go too far over the top.

4. Wild At Heart, 1990 – David Lynch meets Elvis meets Wizard of Oz meets Cage. Neon noir carnage.

5. It Could Happen To You, 1994 – Gentle romantic comedy is something Cage is actually pretty good at, and he’s got great charisma with Bridget Fonda. 

6. Kiss of Death, 1995 – In a bulked-out, goateed supporting role, a terrifying villainous Cage steals the show.

7. Leaving Las Vegas, 1995 – Unlike most Cage movies, there’s no humour in this one, but his Oscar-winning performance is a heartbreaker.

8. The Rock, 1996 – The reign of Cage, unorthodox action star, begins, and his three-picture run of Rock, Con and Face defines some of the beautiful excess that a great action movie can be. It isn’t easy to upstage Sean Connery, either.

9. Con Air, 1997 – Insert Nicolas Cage hair blowing in breeze gif.

10. Face/Off, 1997 – It is a ridiculous movie, but it’s also John Woo’s Hollywood peak and so damned much fun. 

11. Snake Eyes, 1998 – Brian De Palma meets Cage, and this one is worth it for the bravura showmanship of the one-take opening scene alone. 

12. Bringing Out The Dead, 1999 – Martin Scorsese meets Cage in their only collaboration to date. Underrated and tense. 

13. Adaptation, 2002 – Oscar-nominated again for playing twins in a topsy-turvy meta delight. 

14. Matchstick Men, 2003 – A black comedy con-man yarn with surprising heart.

15. National Treasure, 2004 – Another try at blockbuster success, amiably corny Indiana Jones/Da Vinci Code style fun. 

16. Lord Of War, 2005 – This tale of a Ukrainian arms dealer has only gotten more relevant with age. 

17. Ghost Rider, 2007 – It isn’t a GOOD movie by any means but watching Cage overact his heart out turning into a superhero with a burning skull head is my idea of cinema. 

18 Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans, 2009 – Cage unleashed as one of the most corrupt cops ever seen on screen. 

19. Drive Angry, 2011 – Nicolas Cage returns from Hell to save his granddaughter in this insanely goofy potboiler. 

20. Joe, 2013 – Evocative Southern Gothic based on a novel by the late great Mississippi writer Larry Brown. 

21. Mandy, 2018 – Heavy-metal ultraviolent psychedelic revenge, and the beginning of a welcome new experimentalism in Cage’s picks. 

22. Color Out Of Space, 2019 – The cosmic horror of Lovecraft’s short story finds a welcome interpreter in Cage. 

23. Pig, 2021 – Just when you think all Cage does is go to 11, he delivers a wonderfully restrained and existential movie about a lonely man who loses his pet pig. 

24. The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, 2022 – Cage embraces the memes. Chaos ensues. 

25. Dream Scenario, 2023 – In a movie that really should earn him another Oscar nomination, Cage channels Freddy Krueger, kind of. 

Celebrate the tidings of the season by picking your favourite Nicolas Cage joint and giving it a spin. What’s your top Cage Day pick? Comment if you’re keen below.

Year in Review: My top 10 pop culture moments of 2023

It’s a new year, a fresh start, a hope this year is maybe a bit less suck than the last one! I’ve complained enough about the year that was, so instead let me dive back to look at ten musical, cinematic or literary experiences that rocked my world in ’23: 

Go back to those Gold Soundz: I didn’t check out a lot of live music last year, but what I did was superb, led by the old guard showing they can still blast with the best of them. Indie icons Pavement put on a superb reunion show that left me humming the chorus to “Gold Soundz” for weeks, while I finally saw punk/post-punk legends The Damned for the first time on the back of their excellent Darkadelic album, and they melted my face. And my ears. I don’t quite know if my hearing has ever been the same.

Tonight, a blind woman and a monster came to town: I’ve been getting fewer ongoing monthly comic series these days, but one that’s on my must list is Ryan North’s brainy, witty take on Marvel Comics’ Fantastic Four, which is inventive science-bro action combined with the family heart that is key to the FF. It’s just darned fun, good comics that (so far) don’t have to be part of some sprawling pointless multi-comic company crossover to feel epic. It’s the best the Fantastic Four has been in ages. 

A long long time ago, when I was a little chick: I wrote a whole story recently asking local book lovers for their favourite New Zealand books they read and it reminded me of what an excellent year it was for NZ fiction, led by Eleanor Catton’s wickedly fun satire Birnam Wood and a two-fer by Catherine Chidgey – The Axeman’s Carnival, an amazing novel about a bird who becomes a social media celebrity, and the nearly as good teenage angst thriller Pet. Go team NZ!

You don’t know the first thing about piracy, do you?: There was a lot of great TV in ’23 – Reservation Dogs, that banger final Succession run, Poker Face, and I’m only just now discovering how fantastic The Bear is – but the one that sticks with me the most is Taika Waititi’s unexpected gay pirate comedy Our Flag Means Death, which in its NZ-filmed second season truly transformed into a delightfully sweet romance mixed with swashbuckling pirate fun. A gem. 

And in an instant, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake: Daniel Clowes has been blowing my mind since long ago when I first stumbled on an issue of Eightball. His comics are less prolific than they once were but they’re worth the wait, with this year’s graphic novel Monica (art at top of post) quite possibly his masterpiece. A sweeping story of one woman’s exploration of her own mysterious past, it’s a technically dazzling (those colours!), assured and layered work that you’ll keep churning over in your head for days afterwards. It’s not a speed-read like many modern comics, but an experience that might just leave you feeling like the world is a slightly different place when you’re done. 

All my life I’m looking for the magic: Yeah, I know, physical media is dying, bla bla blah, but while I’m definitely a bit more choosy about what I buy in the age of internet abundance, I can’t pass up a good mix, and UK record label Cherry Red constantly is putting out fantastic CD box sets of eclectic punk rock from 1977-1982, power pop from the UK and US and ’80 synthpop that spans my mid-1970s to late-80s sweet spot. Sure, you can find a Spotify playlist, but I enjoy the curated, elegant physicality of these great boxes and the buried treasure they contain. Each set is hours and hours of gems waiting to be rediscovered and if I close my eyes I can almost pretend it’s coming from a cassette mix tape as I drive my old Volkswagen Rabbit around town. 

That monster … will never forgive us: This was the year comic-book movies stumbled and became just as cliched as the Will Smith and Tom Cruise action movies they replaced. But look across the seas to Japan and some of the year’s best blockbusters came from there, with kaiju instead of capes in the terrifically oddball Shin Ultraman and the bizarre Shin Kamen Rider and best of all, the monumental reimagining of the biggest beast of all with Godzilla: Minus One. There were decent superhero moments this year, but not one of them compared to the kinetic thrill of watching Ultraman or Godzilla stomp on buildings with fresh energy. 

Dear Allen, thanks for your letters. I was glad to hear from you: William S. Burroughs was not a decent man. A drug addict, the accidental murderer of his first wife, homosexual in a repressed era, his twisted, tormented writings are decidedly not for everyone. And yet, and yet. This year I found myself once again reading Burroughs’ books like The Soft Machine and turning to his nonfiction writings, particularly his collected letters, because the nonfiction shows so well what went into his far-out fiction. The Letters of William S. Burroughs 1945-1959 fascinated me because it revealed the real person behind the sneering, sinister king of debauchery Burroughs became. It’s extraordinary to read how human and lonely Burroughs is in these letters, wrestling with unrequited love, addiction and ‘normal’ society, and his determination to find new shadowlands behind the world we live in. A stoic mask soon settled over his public face, but here we learn how he got there.

To be honest, when I found out the patriarchy wasn’t just about horses, I lost interest: “Barbenheimer” might have been a marketing technique gone viral, but it was a heck of a lot of fun and rewarding to see two very good movies leading the summer box office and showing up the latest dusty, unnecessary franchise-extender Indiana Jones sequels and the like. Barbie was a huge hit, but it was also just subversive enough to charm all but the most cynical, while Oppenheimer was Christopher Nolan’s best movie yet led by a dazzling Cillian Murphy and sequences on the iMAX screen downtown that melted my face nearly as much as a Damned concert. 

The meat goes into the oven: This one’s a bit self-indulgent, but I had a very good year stretching my feature writing muscles this year in my paying gigs, between several book reviews for the NZ Listener magazine and writing for Radio New Zealand about stuff I love like barbecue restaurants, fans of weird movies, used book fairs, film festivals and more. Turn your passions into words, folks, and let’s all have a fine 2024!