FILLMORE DISCOS 46

Definitely a bit of a mixture here - for clarity's sake, I've added the year to the more vintage entries.

Who Can Kill A Child?, 1976 (*****)
brilliant highly atmospheric 70s low budget film from Spain about a couple who find themselves on a beautiful Mediterranean island taken over by violent feral children - others have since tried similar plot devices but never with as much unsettling menace and ambiguity of conventional morality

Foxes, 1980 (****)
Adrian Lyne's first feature film is a remarkably honest study of a group of young fairly average teenage girls growing up - and it's thanks to accurate observation and, dare I say it, a brilliant performance by Jodie Foster, that its poignant final act can easily catch you off guard; plus you get the treat of seeing glam rockers Angel doing live their disco hit Twentieth Century Foxes

Une Femme Infidèle, 1969 (**)
Chabrol's story of the tragic outcome of a married woman having an affair has nowhere near the class nor sophistication of Adrian Lyne's wonderfully nuanced 2002 remake Unfaithful

36 Fillette, 1988 (**) / À Ma Soeur! (****)
although she likely considers herself, and is considered by many, as having radical cutting-edge feminist credentials, instead I see Catherine Breillat's attitudes and obsessions with teenage sexual development as rather old-fashioned, betraying a quaint naïvete and lack of real world experience; what you end up with therefore are several of these undoubtedly brave studies of young girls coming of age, whilst employing tediously extended dialogues that are clearly just Breillat's written ponderings - 36 Fillette particularly suffers from this, neither its flimsy virginity plot nor its male or female characters' actions or dialogues are ever for one moment believable; À Ma Soeur!, on the other hand, whilst seeming to go down the same disingenuous path, boasts an extraordinary final half an hour which culminates in the most incredibly perverted happy ending, a true revelation of a uniquely female dimension

Street Trash, 1987 (****)
riotously funny unlegit horror as the local bums and winos end up melting after resorting to the neighbourhood liquor store's dollar-a-pop Viper drink - for such a low budget movie it's amazing how much energy and devotion have clearly been invested in the special effects, the sound, the script, and the acting

Entrails Of A Virgin, 1986 (**)
totally incompetent, yet at times pleasingly bonkers, sleaze-horror-comedy-porno-fest something-or-other from Japan

Capitalism: A Love Story (**) / Let's Make Money (****)
the former is yet another flat propaganda exercise by smug egomaniac Michael Moore, a man who's as much part of the problem as capitalism or any of the other soft targets he leeches from; there are far better documentaries on global finance (assuming one has any interest whatsoever) and the Austrian ueber-serious Let's Make Money is one such - a vastly more considered, wide-ranging film that goes much further than scoring cheap points; much of its content and understandings were new to me, and you never feel a party political subtext being rammed into you

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BIRDS 8

There was an old gentleman with whom I used to go on an occasional ramble through nearby hills here in Edinburgh. He introduced me to a small family of four crows who knew him really well and who'd gently follow us for a good part of the way. In fact, I'd never have noticed this were it not for his devoted relationship to these particular birds, and they to him.

He passed away  a couple of years ago, sadly. What's certain is that he would have long known the things that 'scientists' belatedly come to realise, and whose understanding has to constantly shift towards giving these and other animals an almost begrudging newfound respect, whilst establishing dubious new standards for human 'uniqueness'. Many thanks to Luke for the link.

BIRDS 7
BIRDS 6
BIRDS 5

ANTICLASTIC 2

Re-Voyeured.

ANTICLASTIC 1

ACQUISITIONS 8

reading
Primate Behavior - Irven DeVore (editor)
Confessions Of O: Conversations With Pauline Réage - Régine Deforges 
Green River, Running Red - Ann Rule
Nine And A Half Weeks - Elizabeth McNeill
Animal Revolution - Richard D. Ryder

listening
Recorded While It Actually Happened (cassette) - Russell Haswell
Thief Of Hearts (CD) - Harold Faltermeyer
Roman Holiday (2LP) - Ultra

viewing
The Day Today (series)
Jam (series)

ACQUISITIONS 7
ACQUISITIONS 6
ACQUISITIONS 5

DOGMAGRAPHICAL 5

DOGMAGRAPHICAL 4
DOGMAGRAPHICAL 3
DOGMAGRAPHICAL 2
DOGMAGRAPHICAL 1

FILLMORE DISCOS 45 - '70s RARITIES 3

Kill Baby Kill, 1968 (****)
Mario Bava's classic prototype for all little-girl ghost films ever since is both aesthetically beautiful and memorably creepy enough to transcend the severe limitations of the genre, not to mention some rather gaping holes in its plot

Island Of Death, 1975 (*****)
epic perversity from Greece about a murderously sociopathic couple holidaying on the island of Mykonos; shameless genre-lovers will revel in this mindboggingly relentless odyssey of sleaze and shocks; also, check out the creepy mix of analog synths and acoustic sounds on the marvellous soundtrack

Burning Lips, 1976 (***)
it's testament to Leonora Fani's astounding talents that a film like this, which - with European porn theatre audiences in mind - seems to have been edited with a rusty hatchet, is actually more than watchable; her unrivalled on-screen kissing skills need to be seen to be believed

Lipstick, 1976 (*****)
the extraordinary Polnareff soundtrack and moving performances from the Hemingway sisters elevate this shocking drama to the heavens; make sure to get the full uncut version of this 70s classic

Winter Heat, 1976 (****)
all the girls in porno grindhouse Winter Heat get to genuinely enjoy Gillis at his very best mixing up his deadly repertoire of improvised verbal bullying, sleazy negative compliments, and even some surprisingly affectionate lovemaking

Suspiria, 1977 (**)
despite a couple of lush set-pieces and undeniably fabulous locations, this movie fails in several ways that matter: actors that are completely out of their depth, a dreary script, and some really poor pacing - for me, and I know many will disagree, Argento rates poorly alongside other Italian giallo directors

Midnight Heat, 1983 (**)
Jamie Gillis was untouchable in many ways, but unfortunately straight acting wasn't one of them, much as he and others would have liked it to be; Roger Watkins' (Last House On Dead End Street) brave attempt to make an arthouse porno falls flat

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FILLMORE DISCOS 44

A Numbers Game (*)
it's got Steven Bauer and some lovely tarty 80s clothes on display, so you want to like it - sadly, and evident in the clunky script and over-eager editing, the film is completely overwhelmed by its indie pretensions

Taxidermia (**)
while Taxidermia, an exploration in bucolic Hungarian insanity, lacks absolutely nothing in artistic originality and ugly raw shock value, it just isn't that much fun

Choke (*)
a smug indie sex comedy whose dishonest humour is so self-conscious you almost sense a studio audience just at the edge of the set consisting of the cast's weekend drinking buddies

Survival Of The Dead (*)
within the subgenres of horror, and in good part thanks to more Romero rubbish like this (and Danny Boyle's execrable efforts), I now rate zombies uncooler than even vampires, certainly well below  aliens, ghosts, oversized reptiles, sharks, cannibals, and clockwork toys

Invisible Target (**)
if you enjoy scenes involving state-of-the-art choreographed glass-smashing, explosions, and bodies (often burning) flying around by every conceivable means, then this is your movie: technically, it's light years ahead of the Hollywood equivalents - unfortunately, it's just as full of the same braindead moralistic legitimising

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UNLEGITIMATE 2

What ever did we do deserve the unremitting dreck served up by music TV and radio here? Meanwhile in Japan they get the deliciously unlegit Berryz Koubou and C-ute. It's just not fair.

CROSSBONES 8

The cruise ship Aurora was cursed from the moment the champagne bottle failed to smash on impact before her maiden voyage. Ever since, she's suffered viral outbreaks on board, repeated engine problems, explosions, passenger mutinies, and now, as she negotiates the treacherous seas of the Gulf of Aden, finds herself threatened by those irrepressible Somali pirates.

The foredoomed ship's 1,870 long-suffering passengers have been advised to draw their curtains in observance of a dawn-to-dusk blackout, albeit with the concession of being able to leave their cabins (whilst avoiding the deck area). For what that's worth. Personally, I tend to think these 21st century buccaneers are currently in possession of rather more sophisticated technology than antique brass telescopes.

CROSSBONES 7
CROSSBONES 6
CROSSBONES 5

EXPOSITION 3

It's as if Glasgow's Kelvingrove Museum's 'curators' have been handed a big slice of the outrageous council tax paid by its citizens only to go on a massive speedball 'n' Smirnoff all-weekender before deciding how their venerable establishment can be jazzed up.

It's not enough that Glasgow's councillors allowed this fine city to be cleft asunder by a filthy great motorway, before letting the dreaded Design Squad in at astronomical cost to make it a laughing stock with slogans such as Prestwick Airport's 'Pure Dead Brilliant' (accompanied by the cartoon drunk) and other repeatedly naff and pointless rebranding iterations.

Anyway, back to Kelvingrove. It was a consolation visit a couple of weeks ago after disappointingly finding the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow University closed at the weekend for repairs.

The entire museum and gallery, set in an impressive building located in beautiful downtown central parkland, has been converted into the biggest tackiest kids' play park ever conceived. You'll think I'm exaggerating again: trust me I'm not. This time it's far more than even the usual unholy riot of Helvetica, stoopid discovery areas, interactive screenery, huge purple banners and other redundant signage, or the dysfunctional ambient lighting.

They've lowered all the paintings to somewhere around waist height and added mindnumbingly condescending descriptions along the lines of 'can you spot the crow in the tree? do you know what a 'halo' is?' - spelling and grammatical inconsistencies galore. Some of the randomly-distributed paintings are even surrounded by graphics and gaudy text boxes and coloured captions with their own individual lighting, all but making the picture itself invisible. Other exhibits actually have special children's crawl spaces incorporated underneath. The gift shop sells nothing but tacky cuddly toys, Scottish souvenir tat, and bubble-blowing liquid - no books, no prints, and but a handful of postcards.










See, kids don't give a fuck about Dalí or Matisse or Goya or transgender politics or global warming. They just want to play. I respect that. Give them what they want: a fantastic genuine new play park or take them to McDonald's for a Happy Meal.

EXPOSITION 2
EXPOSITION 1

DIETROLOGY 8

DIETROLOGY
From The Sublimated To The Ridiculous

When you find yourself absorbed by some thing no longer do you control the musculature. The first real gun I ever saw close up was on a table in a Taco Bell during my first US tour. It belonged to a cop enjoying a mondo-sized cup of breakfast coffee. Scary and fascinating. He occasionally toyed with it, the pistol, holding it up to the light to lovingly caress its glistening muzzle, before finally returning it to its reassuring dark brown leather holster.

You can easily see why they are considered as potent phallic symbols. And yet in notable countries like the USA, along with others such as the Philippines, Indonesia, or Afghanistan, firearms have become so culturally embedded a curious reversal has occurred. The phalli have now themselves become gun symbols.

So you get guys holding their cocks, visualising. Sex is a trigger-happy sport. Uzi drive-bys. Nuthing But A G Thang. Dirty Harry shoot-out fantasy with a Magnum. Do you feel lucky, punk? A John Woo Mexican stand-off. Bang, bang, bang. Pissing is an exercise in target practice. Take aim, fire. A warm penis is an AK-47.

The tipping point between genital symbol and genital substitute is reached at a moment of sheer ubiquity (thanks to technological and cultural changes), or at the forming of a particularly close personal attachment, one which provides greater pleasure or succour. And the phenomenon appears the same for other objects such as guitars and mobile phones (the latter being the preferred choice of clitoral replacement).

Later on the aforementioned tour, in Colorado, I actually got to fire a .44 Special when  taken out to the mountains by our host. The weapon was hastily wrested back after I popped a couple of frighteningly wayward rounds at a nearby tin can. The recoil nearly broke my wrist. And that was that.

DIETROLOGY 7
DIETROLOGY 6
DIETROLOGY 5