June 28, 2004

What's the Matter with Kansas?

I don't believe an extended stay in a mental institution will necessarily make a man crazy, but electro-shock therapy will do it every time. Thursday night I stayed in to watch Samuel Fuller's Shock Corridor in which an ambitious reporter has himself committed (despite the protests of his stripper girlfriend) to better solve a murder that has occurred within the hospital walls. Appropriate to a film made in 1963, each of the three witnesses to the crime has a brief moment of sanity in which he reveals something of America's struggles with Communism, race relations, and the nuclear age. All this and nymphos too.

Having recently seen Paul Morrissey's Blood for Dracula and therefore having a good idea of what to expect from one of his films, I chose to watch sister movie Flesh for Frankenstein in broad daylight on Saturday afternoon. Given the amount of necrophilia and squishy organs flying around, this turned out to be a wise decision. Udo Kier once again minces about as the title character, assisted by Arno Juerging and foiled by Joe Dallesandro, whose appeal to the ladies in these films is ever more perfectly understandable to me. A healthy dose of camp alleviates the gore somewhat, and the careful viewer will also find many parallels to fellow cinematic great The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Later that evening I felt disgust of an entirely different sort during Fahrenheit 9/11 as Michael Moore stepped back and pretty much let Dubya's idiocy speak for itself. The fantastically rowdy Berkeley audience applauded the screen numerous times, and I know I wasn't the only one in tears during some of the more heart-wrenching portions. If I haven't found too much reason yet to get passionate about the Democratic candidate, I am definitely on fire to vote for who I have to vote for to get that cowboy out of office. And you have my word, if he gets re-elected I will be the first one throwing eggs at his limo on inauguration day.

Tears came into my eyes again Sunday morning as Sophie and Aimee and I stepped off BART and right into the midst of the Pride parade, but this time I was crying from sheer happiness. I adore living where diversity is publicly celebrated and people are encouraged to love whoever they want to love, however they want to love them. I'm disappointed that I didn't get to see the huge swarm of couples who were married at City Hall in February and that I missed the contingent of More Light Presbyterians, but Graham Norton waved in my general direction and that made me swoon hard.


Shock Corridor
Flesh for Frankenstein
Fahrenheit 9/11
San Francisco Pride

Posted by nightfall at June 28, 2004 09:22 PM