Sorry, everyone! I’m running a bit behind today (or is it tonight? Daylight Savings Time makes everything confusing!) so I don’t really have much prepared to say about this video, beyond the fact that I like it and I like the song. That I like both shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise. In general, I like anything that involves Daft Punk.
Since it’s currently Spring Break, I figured that I would spend the next two weeks reviewing films about people on vacation. Some of the films will be about good vacations. Some of the films will be about bad vacations. But, in the end, they’ll all be about celebrating those moments that make us yearn for the chance to get away from it all.
Take Midnight Express, for instance. This 1978 film (which was nominated for six Oscars and won two) tells the story of what happens when a carefree college student named Billy Hayes decides to spend his holiday in Turkey.
When the film begins, Billy Hayes (played by Brad Davis), is at an airport in Turkey. He’s preparing to return home to the United States. His girlfriend, Susan (Irene Miracle), informs him that Janis Joplin has just died. When Billy responds by making a joke, Susan accuses him of not taking anything seriously. What Susan doesn’t realize is that Billy actually has a lot on his mind. For one thing, he’s got several bricks of hashish taped around his waist. He purchased it from a cab driver and he’s planning on selling it to his friends back in the United States. Unfortunately, Billy’s not quite as clever as he thinks he is. Because of recent terrorist bombings, the Turkish police are searching everyone before they board their plane. Billy finds himself standing out in the middle of the runway with his hands up in the air, surrounded by gun-wielding Turkish policemen.
Billy finds himself stranded in a country that he doesn’t understand, being interrogated by men whose language he cannot speak. An enigmatic American (Bo Hopkins) shows up and assures Billy that he’ll be safe, as long as he identifies the taxi driver who sold him to the drugs. Billy does so but then makes the mistake of trying to flee from the police. In the end, it’s the American who captures him and, holding a gun to Billy’s head, tells him not to make another move.
Soon, Billy is an inmate at Sağmalcılar Prison. He’s beaten when he first arrives and it’s only days later that he’s able to walk and think clearly. He befriends some of the other prisoners, including a heroin addict named Max (John Hurt) and an idiot named Jimmy (Randy Quaid). Billy watches as the prisoners are tortured by the fearsome head guard (Paul L. Smith) and listens to the screams of inmates being raped behind closed doors. After being told that his original four-year sentence has been lengthened to a 30-year sentence, Billy starts to degenerate. When Susan visits, Billy end up pathetically masturbating in front of her. When another prisoner taunts Billy, Billy bites out the man’s tongue, an act that we see in both close up and slow motion. If Billy has any hope of regaining his humanity, he has to escape. He has to catch what Jimmy calls the “midnight express…..”
Midnight Express is a brutal and rather crude film. Though it may have been directed by a mainstream director (Alan Parker) and written by a future Oscar-winner (Oliver Stone), Midnight Express is a pure grindhouse film at heart. There’s not a subtle moment to be found in the film. The camera lingers over every act of sadism while Giorgio Moroder’s synth-based score pulsates in the background. When Billy grows more and more feral and brutal in his behavior, it’s hard not to be reminded of Lon Chaney, Jr. turning into The Wolf Man. The film may be incredibly heavy-handed but it’s nightmarishly effective, playing out with the intensity of a fever dream.
As for the cast, Brad Davis wasn’t particularly likable or sympathetic as Billy. On the one hand, he’s a victim of an unjust system, betrayed by his own country and tortured by another. On the other hand, Billy was an idiot who apparently thought no one would notice all that hash wrapped around his chest. That said, Davis’s unlikable screen presence actually worked to the film’s advantage. If you actually liked Billy, the film would be unbearable to watch. Before Davis was cast, Dennis Quaid and Mark Hamill were both considered for the role. If either of those actors has been cast, Midnight Express would be too intense and disturbing to watch. For instance, it would be depressing to watch Dennis Quaid rip a man’s tongue out of his mouth. You would be like, “No, Mr. Quaid, you’ll never recover your humanity!” But when Brad Davis does it, you’re just like, “Eh. It was bound to happen sometime.”
For more effective are John Hurt and Bo Hopkins. Hurt and Hopkins both have small roles but they both make a big impression, if just because they’re the only two characters in the film who aren’t either yelling or crying all of the time. While everyone else is constantly cursing their imprisonment, Hurt is quietly sardonic. As for Hopkins, we’re supposed to dislike him because he’s with the CIA and he sold out Billy. But honestly, no one made Billy tape all that hash to his chest. Finally, you’ve got Randy Quaid and Paul L. Smith, who both glower their way through the film. Smith is wonderfully evil while Randy Quaid is …. well, he’s Randy Quaid, the loudest American in Turkey.
Midnight Express was such a success at the box office that it caused an international incident. There’s not a single positive Turkish character to be found in the entire film and it’s impossible not to feel that the film is not only condemning Turkey’s drug policies but that it’s also condemning the entire country as well. The Turkish prisoners are portrayed as being just as bad as the guards and even Billy’s defense attorney comes across as being greedy and untrustworthy. Watching the film today can be an awkward experience. It’s undeniably effective but it’s impossible not to cringe at the way anyone who isn’t from the west is portrayed. In recent years, everyone from director Alan Parker to screenwriter Oliver Stone to the real-life Billy Hayes has apologized for the way that the Turkish people were portrayed in the film.
Despite the controversy, Midnight Express was a huge box office success and it was nominated for best picture. It lost to another controversial film about people imprisoned in Asia, The Deer Hunter.
Unfortunately, the official video for this song keeps getting yanked off of YouTube. I assume that’s due to the fact that the video features like 4 seconds of nudity and God knows, we can’t have that on the internet.
Anyway, since that video keeps getting yanked, here’s another video of Jake Bugg performing There’s A Beast and We All Feed It. This performance comes from the 2014 Reading Festival and it features Jake at his best. As for the song …. well, it’s an attack on all of us. And you know what? We probably deserve it.
If you’ve seen enough Lifetime films, you know that it’s never a good idea to move to the suburbs.
I mean, sure. Inevitably, you’ll end up living in a big house. And you’ll have all the closet space in the world. And your neighbors will all be really sexy and witty and they’ll always invite you over to have a glass of wine and gossip about everyone’s deep, dark secrets. I mean, it sounds like a great idea but things never work out as well as they should.
For example, just check out the latest Lifetime movie, Suburban Swingers Club.
Everything you need to know about the film is right there in the title. It takes place in the suburbs. There’s a club. And they’re all swingers. And when I say swingers, I mean they’re real swingers. They’re not like Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally in those annoying Sling commercials. No, these are people who get together and toss their house keys into a punch bowl. Each night, keys are randomly drawn and neighbors go upstairs together. Of course, only the really wealthy and attractive neighbors get to take part. For instance, there’s this old guy who is occasionally seen standing out in his front yard. He never gets invited.
As soon as Lori (Dana Davis) and Grant (Jesse Ruda) move into the neighborhood, they’re invited to join the club. Grant is immediately intrigued while Lori is immediately weirded out by the whole idea. In fact, Lori thinks that Grant might just be looking for an excuse to have an affair. Their marriage has been rocky ever since the death of their baby. However, then Lori catches sight of the neighbor across the road, doing manly stuff without his shirt on. In fact, Noah (James William O’Halloran) doesn’t even seem to own a shirt! Lori eventually tells Grant that they can swing as long as 1) they’re totally honest about it, 2) they think about each other while having sex with other people, and 3) they stop doing it as soon as one of them objects. Grant’s like, “That’s a lot of rules but as long as I get laid, I’m happy.”
However, it doesn’t take long until Grant’s no longer happy. Lori ends up pulling Noah’s key and soon Grant is getting jealous. Grant says that he’s exercising his right to say “stop.” Lori explains the situation to Noah and Noah is like, “Well, no one told me about any rules!” Soon, Noah is stalking Lori and Grant is threatening to kill him. Of course, when Noah turns up dead, Grant automatically becomes the number one suspect….
Unfortunately, this film doesn’t feature quite as much swinging as I was expecting. It doesn’t take long for Grant to get jealous and exercise his “stop” option and after that, the film becomes a fairly typical Lifetime stalking film. But no matter. I still enjoyed Suburban Swingers Club, if just because the film didn’t waste anytime plunging into its story of suburban melodrama. This is one of those films where your new neighbors come over, take one look at you, and then invite you to join a swinger’s club. Lori can’t even look out of her bedroom window without seeing two people having sex across the street and, once morning comes, it’s time for Noah to start casually walking around outside without his shirt on. Suburban Swingers Club is like the Lifetime version of one of those wonderfully campy 60s sexploitation films where bored housewives seduce the pool cleaner and the whole thing is written, directed, and acted with just enough self-awareness to let us know that the film is cheerfully aware of its excesses. It’s a lot of fun, as any swinging club should be. Joe Sarno would be proud.
This is my second favorite Beatles song, right after A Day In The Life. I think the reason I like this song is because it feels like it could have been written about so many different people who I know. According to Wikipedia, this song was written as the result of Paul McCartney’s aunt daring him to write a song that wasn’t a love song. (Of course, Paperback Writer is kind of a love song. It’s the story of an author who loves money enough to write a dirty story about a dirty man.)
This video was filmed outside of the Chiswick House in London. Michael Lindsay-Hogg went on to direct the Beatles’s final film, Let It Be.
This video features a prison break. Apparently, the best way to escape from prison is to go straight up. Don’t waste your time with any of that digging stuff. I would actually be in a lot of trouble if I ever had to escape from prison. I’m scared of heights so I can’t really go through the roof. And I have a thing about not getting dirt under my fingernails so I’d have a hard time tunneling through the walls. I guess if I was in prison, I’d have to seduce the warden or something. Either that or I’d just do my time and then write a book about it. Chained Redhead: The Lisa Marie Bowman Story. It would be a best seller, I think.
Among the prisoners escaping from the prison is Hardwell. I’m glad he made it.
Speaking of prison, has anyone watched that 60 Days In show on A&E? By the time this post drops, this season’s finale will have aired. I have to say that this season was a hundred times better than the previous seasons. I’m just a little bit worried about how everyone’s going to adjust to being out of prison. For instance, Abner and David both really got into the whole prison mentality. Anyway, if you didn’t watch this season, you really missed out.
Well, it would probably depend on who you killed and what the exact circumstances were. For the most part, I’m against killing but I also support self-defense. If you killed someone who was about to kill me, I would at least be appreciative. I can’t guarantee that I’d love you but I’d probably allow you to take me to a movie.
Of course, Alec Benjamin isn’t actually offering to kill anyone in this song. Instead, he’s singing about changing who he is to please the person to whom he is singing. He’s willing to “kill” who he has been and become someone new. That’s really not the best way to go about a relationship, of course.
As for the video, it’s got a nicely ominous atmosphere. A truck stop is always a good place to have an existential crisis.
Fortunately, for me, it’s not a question that I have to answer. Michael Jackson’s music has never been an important part of my life. All of the songs and albums that people rave about — Thriller, Bad, that song about the rat — were all pretty much before my time. Usually, whenever I have heard any of those so-called classics, my usual reaction has been that 1) they’re ludicrously overproduced and 2) they tend to drag on forever. (Seriously, there’s no reason to ask Annie if she’s okay that many times.) Some people grew up with the idea of Michael Jackson being the King of Pop and a musical innovator. I grew up with the idea of Michael Jackson being a rather frightening eccentric who didn’t appear to have a nose and who wrote songs about how unfair it was that the world wouldn’t accept that he just really, really enjoyed the company of children. Since neither Jackson nor his music have ever been an important part of my life, it’s rather easy for me to shrug and say, “Sure, let us never hear his music again.”
Still, there are many people debating the question of whether or not it’s time to cancel the legacy of Michael Jackson. That’s because of Leaving Neverland, a 4-hour documentary that premiered at Sundance and which recently aired on HBO. Leaving Neverland deals with two men — choreographer Wade Robson and former actor Jimmy Safechuck — who claim that they were both sexually abused by Michael Jackson as children. Interviewed separately, both Robson and Safechuck tell nearly identical stories about first meeting Jackson, being invited into the sanctuary of Jackson’s Neverland, and eventually being brainwashed, abused, and eventually abandoned by Jackson. It’s not just that Robson and Safechuck both separately tell the same story. It’s also that the details will be familiar to anyone who has ever been abused. The grooming. The manipulation. The thrill of sharing a secret eventually giving way to the guilt of feeling that you’re somehow at fault. And, of course, the combination of fear and denial that both Robson and Safechuck say initially caused them to lie and deny having been abused by Jackson. Both men talk about how Jackson used their own broken families to control them, suggesting that only he understood what they were going through and that they were only truly safe when they were with him. Jimmy Safechuck, in particular, speaks in the haunted manner and nervous cadences of a survivor. Their stories are frequently harrowing and, watching the documentary, one can understand why counselors were on hand for the Sundance showing.
That said, those who have complained that Leaving Neverland is a very one-sided affair do have a point. (To see what many of Michael Jackson’s supporters have to say about the men and their stories, check out #mjinnocent on twitter.) Leaving Neverland is very much a product of our current cancel culture. From the start it clearly chooses a side and, for four hours, it focuses only on that side. Far more attention is paid to the civil suit that Jackson settled out of court than the criminal trial in which Jackson was acquitted. Much has been made on twitter about inconsistencies in Safechuck and Robson’s stories. Yet, are those inconsistencies the result of an intentional attempt to subvert the truth or are they the result of the trauma that the two men suffered at the hands of their abuser? When I checked in on twitter during the documentary’s airing, it was fascinating to watch as the two camps debated who should be cancelled, Michael Jackson for being accused of pedophilia or Wade Robson for saying that Jackson’s hair felt like a brillo pad.
Ultimately, Leaving Neverland is a portrait of the power of fame. One imagines that if a stranger had approached the mothers of Wade Robson and Jimmy Safechuck and said that he wanted to spend a weekend sleeping in the same bed as their sons, the mothers would have a very different response than they did when Michael Jackson did essentially just that. For all the red flags to be found in Jackson’s public behavior, he was often dismissed as just being an eccentric artist, a harmless Peter Pan-like figure. (You have to wonder if there was no one in his camp who was willing to say, “Y’know, Michael, maybe you should stop being photographed with little boys for a while.”) One of the more interesting things about the documentary is to see how quickly Jackson recovered from the 1993 abuse allegations. The same reporters who very gravely report the allegations about Jackson in ’93 are later seen glibly referring to Jackson as being the “king of pop,” just a few years later.
Leaving Neverland is a powerful documentary but I doubt it will change anyone’s mind. That’s one of the dangers that comes from picking a side as deliberately and unapologetically as this documentary does. Your argument may be great but only those who agree with you are going to listen. Those who support Jackson will see it as being a hit piece. Those who believe Jackson was guilty will see the documentary as being validation. Ultimately, whether or not it’s still okay to listen to Michael Jackson’s music is a decision that only you can make for yourself.
If there’s one thing that totally annoys the Hell out of me, it’s when people on YouTube leave comments under songs like, “Who still listening in August of 2017?” I mean, yeah, I get it. It’s a good song. You’re still listening to it years after it was first released. You’re the best. Go get yourself a coke or something because you earned it! Seriously, it’s so stupid.
That said, it’s now March of 2019, I’m still listening to this.