THE SIGNAL from David Katznelson
“Life is short. Art long. Opportunity is fleeting. Expierience treacherous. Judgement difficult.”― Geoffrey Chaucer
My friend Greg and I had a friendly disagreement last week about the Halloween movie franchise. To him…you only need to see the first one. The rest, well: the rest are forgettable unneeded lackluster repeats of the first film (except for obviously Halloween 3, Season of the Witch, boasting a completely new plot that my friend would call a pretty crap film as well, and I might just agree).
It is my view that like all great traditions, when there is a Halloween movie coming out around Halloween…you kind of have to see it. And no matter how predictable, how badly made or acted, how senseless it just might be, it still just feels good to celebrate the season with the myth of Michael Myers. The ever dying, ever angry, ever sadistic and everywhere-but-nowhere-until-you-look-in-another-direction Michael Myers.
The best Halloween films usually star Jamie Lee Curtis, who pretty much became famous for her role as Laurie Strode…the babysitter-turned-survivalist who is Michael’s favorite target. But even without Jamie in the mid-period years, film legend Donald Pleasance as Dr. Sam Loomis, became the quintessential Van Helsing in this world that John Carpenter created…hunting Michael down up until Halloween 6, dying of cancer during the production of the film, which had one of the more awkward write-arounds since Bela Lugosi’s demise during the Ed Wood filming of Plan 9 From Outer Space (and I say that in the best possible sense).
John Carpenter showed true horror genius with Halloween. It really is one of the greatest horror films ever. He did not only direct it (as he did its sequel), but composed its iconic score. The world he created…the genre that he helped to define as far as late 70s US slasher films became…the deep look at unapologetic, chaotic evil that gave face to some of the darker aspects of the fear and uncertainty of a cold-war-post-Vietnam generation…the insanity of Halloween never goes away no matter how many times you watch it.
Carpenter has slowed down on his directing of films in general, but still composes music and is still composing the soundtrack for the new Halloween films, with his son by his side.
There have been 11 Halloween films thus far, before the most recent Halloween Kills just released in time for this season. I have seen them all. I got genuinely giddy when Jamie Lee Curtis came back to the franchise in Halloween H20 (in 1998) which also starred LL Cool Jay. And yes, I thought that might be the final film in the saga since Laurie seems to decapitate Michael at the end. But no…Michael has a power to survive that is inexplicable…and he was resurrected (2002’s reality TV style Halloween Resurrection) in time for Rob Zombie to take over the franchise for two memorable films…and now with David Gordon Green at the helm for a trilogy with the hints that it JUST MIGHT BE the final final final final part of the Halloween saga (yeah, right).
We started watching Halloween Kills last night, which is the second installment of the aforementioned trilogy. It picks up right after the last one, where Curtis’ Strode—now full-on off-the-grid warrior—burned down her house with Michael trapped in it. The movie picks up with her being rushed to the hospital (a tribute to 1981’s Halloween II) and Michael…believe it or not…surviving his fiery tomb to immediately go on a gore-ific rampage that even by Halloween standards is gut-churning disgusting (not necessarily a bad thing). Green’s take on Myers is a little more Marvel-film than I would like, but hell…what do I care…it is Halloween and he is on the loose again. That is all I could ask for.
After all this time, the battle between Myers and the world…the crazed relationship between he and Strode…and all the blood in between…I look forward to it. Who needs it to change? It’s like a Three’s Company episode, with a similar plot and a predictable ending, except with a lot more bodies left behind.
Doctor Loomis (from the original Halloween): I met him, fifteen years ago. I was told there was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six-year-old child, with this blank, pale, emotionless face and, the blackest eyes... the *devil's* eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up because I realized what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... *evil*.
Bobby Whitlock Tears Strips Off George Harrison’s 50th All Things Must Pass
A friend told me about this rant from Whitlock…who plays on All Things Must Pass. It seems that no matter how much money the record company put in to producing and marketing George Harrison’s classic record, the end product is….less than desirable…including horrible new mixes and…well…listen to Bobby!
Friends and fans rally to help NOLA R & B Legend Clarence “Frogman” Henry
The always extremely funky Harry Duncan threw me this update on Frogman Henry. Look at his house in the video….it really should be a museum.
“Born after the Civil War, he turned himself into its most powerful witness—and modernized the American novel.”
Egyptian Officials Detain Artist-Robot Ai-Da on Suspicion of Espionage
This is such a crazy story: “The trouble reportedly started when Egyptian officials noticed that Ai-Da had a modem and cameras for eyes. Because of the technology within the robot, officials grew concerned that the artist-robot may have been part of an espionage conspiracy.”
The Ball Poem
BY JOHN BERRYMAN
What is the boy now, who has lost his ball.
What, what is he to do? I saw it go
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then
Merrily over—there it is in the water!
No use to say 'O there are other balls':
An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy
As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down
All his young days into the harbour where
His ball went. I would not intrude on him,
A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now
He senses first responsibility
In a world of possessions. People will take balls,
Balls will be lost always, little boy,
And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.
He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,
The epistemology of loss, how to stand up
Knowing what every man must one day know
And most know many days, how to stand up
And gradually light returns to the street,
A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight.
Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark
Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,
I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move
With all that move me, under the water
Or whistling, I am not a little boy.
