It’s time to dummy up and dummy down with 1987’s “Mannequin” and the latest installment of the James Spader Podcast. Mike Gray, Chris Onderick, and Erik Pepple revisit their nostalgia for shopping malls, debate the powers of market research, and dream of department store lock-ins.
In 2005 or so (I think), in its top graphic, Protozoic featured a Hallucigenia, a monster, and maybe a koala bear wearing a Pepsi shirt. Pete’s blog, Starship Graveyard, just reminded me of the strange creature. Below is a picture of the Hallucigenia design that once dwelled here on Protozoic.
The Necronomicon was actually written by Jim Davis.
It’s time for Season 2 of The James Spader Podcast, where we crash headfirst into “Avengers: Age of Ultron.” With a performance from James Spader as Ultron, accidents are bound to happen, cyber or otherwise, even guiltily so, as we take a gander at this modern day spectacle.
While Kung Fury is a ton of fun, just as Alamo Drafhouse’s rediscovery of Miami Connection was a good laugh, Ninja Bachelor Party operates on a completely different level. Maybe I’m being a little nostalgic in my love for this, but the addition of Bill Hicks seals the deal. This is sublime.
Dick, thanks for shooting me this link.
Gandahar was René Laloux’s final feature animation. I don’t like it as much as Time Masters, which Mœbius (Jean Giraud) worked on, but it’s still entertaining. The plot is shrug-worthy, but that’s not the reason to watch this, Time Masters, or Fantastic Planet. This is the Weinstein version of the film, but it does boast Asimov’s scripting-translating hand (you can find the French version if you are willing to hunt; I do not think the French version on YT has subtitles).
Feel free to discuss below.
H.P. Thomcraft sojourns to a cloudy living room in an undisclosed location of the nether-regions/places to weave three hazy tales of mystery and murk while playing a most deadly game of death. “H.P. Thomcraft’s Game of Pawns” is the sequel to the water-logged “H.P. Thomcraft’s Box of Tales.”
I will be pulling the post down this coming Sun. in order to submit to festivals. I just wanted participants and readers of Protozoic to get a preview.
*** This video will be back on Protozoic soon! ***
The other evening I rewatched Samuel Fuller’s The Naked Kiss (1964), forgetting just how ludicrous, provoking, and glue-my-eyes-to-the-screen the movie was. If you haven’t treated your peepers to this feast of a film, or delved into any Fuller, I guarantee your brain will be far more occupied by it than the new Avengers. I won’t write out the film’s melodramatic tilt-a-whirl of a plot, but in terms of its political agenda, it was both ahead of its time and simultaneously ham-fisted misguided, which is what makes it so enthralling. It is hard to fantasize many analogues circa 1964. Fuller, of course, was no slouch, first defended by Manny Farber (see the Library of America’s Farber on Film: The Complete Writings of Manny Farber) and today is a director whose regard only grows in stature. Though The Naked Kiss is one of the pinnacles of Fulller’s output, it is also an excellent introduction to the director.
While The Naked Kiss is not an Out of the Past type of film noir, or even falling within that main cycle of films designated as such, thematically it is, traveling the noir map and evolving out of the ’40s and ’50s into the ’60s. There is an investigator, here a buffoon rather than a Marlowe, with a version of manhood that could almost be a magazine subscription to an idea of an idea; a manhood that by 1964 when the film was released had drifted into organizational culture and professions like advertising (Mad Men). There is also a femme fatale, Constance Towers’s Kelly, whose point of view, unprecedentedly for its time, drives the story. Over the course of the film, the American Dream is shattered (there’s a Capra-esque town that is the placeholder for this), female sexuality is liberated from a patriarchal economy, and then there’s a song that can only be described as “Julie Andrews sings with the Little Rascals.”
Watch it, and if your attention fails to be 110% consumed, engulfed, and cast into oblivion by The Naked Kiss (who knows maybe you won’t even check Facebook while you are watching), then I’m sure this Vine of a snorting dog burritoed in a bedroll will not charm you either – basically, there is no hope for you.
This is not practical advice at all considering we live in a digital age. I should have sang a sentiment like, “Type ideas you may want to squirrel away out on your laptop,” or try entering them into your device via its touchscreen interface and have said device autocorrect whatever it is you are trying to write and get wildly frustrated when “lept” is changed to “kept,” then “slept,” only later to realize that you were possibly wrong and it is “leapt.”
I suspect it is also completely and totally indecipherable what I’m singing about, but it is along the lines above of jotting it down.
Any table top RPG player worth his or her salt has dice, more dice than one would possibly need. I remember buying totally pointless trap and weather dice, like you couldn’t just make a 1d6 die table for weather conditions. Whatever, it’s part of the hobby and it’s harmless fun.
But what the fuck? Why would one need a d12 that tells time… by showing the numbers 1-12 in analog clock form? Wouldn’t a regular d12 be just as good?