Only now does it occur to me... BLUEBEARD (1972)

Only now does it occur to me... somehow, by putting a drunken Richard Burton into what is essentially a Vincent Price role––playing "Bluebeard," with an actual blue spray-painted beard, in a campy Technicolor French-Italian-German-Hungarian co-production––

 

that you could end up with something that's quite so... mediocre.

This is an odd duck. It's directed by former Golden Age Hollywood player Edward Dmytryk (CROSSFIRE, THE CAINE MUTINY, and MURDER, MY SWEET), has a haunting soundtrack by Ennio Morricone (which is very reminiscent of his work on DUCK, YOU SUCKER, completed one year prior), and brilliant cinematography (Gábor Pogány),

 

art direction (Tamás Vayer ), 

 

and set decoration (Boldizsár Simonka), 

 

by a trio of talented Hungarians who would rarely find work outside of their own country. It occasionally evokes shades of Mario Bava, Hammer horror flicks, and Nicolas Roeg's work for Roger Corman. All of this is good.

However, the screenplay (by Dmytryk and three Italian collaborators, based on the dark fairy tale but updated for a 1930s setting) is an absolute train-wreck: unfocused, pretentious, and meandering. Or perhaps it's more like a messy bird attack, ordered by a lethargic Richard Burton on his wife who just blew a raspberry at him?

 

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm making this look better than it is. There is artistic merit here, and, hell, there is camp merit, too, but it keeps getting dragged down into a morass of Italo skin-flickery and wannabe arthouse pomp. Like the Nazi subplot that it can't quite support.

(That's right, this Bluebeard is also an Austrian Nazi––and the cheapjack scaffolding this film provides can't come close to bearing that historical load.)

So while the director and writers believe it is something closer to CABARET or MEPHISTO, and its design team believes it is something closer to THE ABOMINABLE DR. PHIBES or BLOOD AND BLACK LACE, and its star believes that it's his naptime (between his morning tipple and his happy hour), I think the producers––with their reliance on tawdry Eurosleaze thrills––think they're making a Tinto Brass or Joe D'Amato flick. Whew.

 Also, on a semi-related note, there are way more musical numbers in this than I would have imagined.

Oh, and Raquel Welch kinda sorta plays a nun. Maybe Ken Russell should have directed this. 

Speaking of Ken Russell, there's a ridiculous phallic moment where one of Bluebeard's wives cheats on him and then makes the mistake of falling asleep, naked, entwined with her lover beneath a rhino horn antler-chandelier. Which Burton gleefully unleashes upon the couple, impaling them.

And even though it's set in the 1930s, I guess Joey Heatherton is playing "Shirley Partridge" from THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY?

Damn, there I go again, making this look better than it is. Anyway, just go watch Catherine Breillat's BLUEBEARD instead.

R.I.P., Ennio Morricone

Music Review: JOHN CARPENTER––LIVE RETROSPECTIVE, IN CONCERT (2016, Manhattan, NY)

Last Friday, it was my pleasure to see John Carpenter––horror master, composer of electronic music, and one of my cinematic heroes––live in concert at the PlayStation Theater in Times Square.

Carpenter (affectionately and frequently referred to as "Carpy" by this site) has deliberately kept a low profile for much of the last decade, having directed only one feature film and two episodes of Showtime's MASTERS OF HORROR since 2001. However, the past year has seen a sort of New Carpenter Renaissance: he's released two new albums (the brilliant LOST THEMES and LOST THEMES II, both of which are the atmospheric equivalent of new Carpenter films), issued three music videos, announced his intention to produce a HALLOWEEN movie for the first time since 1982, and has been touring with the "John Carpenter Live Retrospective," a concert series of film music, new and old, accompanied by projected scenes from his classic films. It was this Live Retrospective that I was able to see on Friday along with a packed house of fellow Carpy enthusiasts (a crowd of around 2,000). Let me tell you about it!

The lineup consisted of John Carpenter himself on one synthesizer, his son Cody Carpenter handling multiple synths, Daniel Davies [Carpy's godson and son of The Kinks' Dave Davies (who collaborated on IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS and VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED '95) ] on lead guitar, John Konesky on guitar, John Spiker on bass, and Scott Seiver on drums: the same lineup seen in Carpenter's recent music videos. Carpenter himself looked rather formidable, dressed all in black with his trademark mustache and long white hair pulled back into a ponytail. At 68, he's still got a real spring in his step, and often visibly grooved to the beat, gave the sign of the horns, or encouraged the audience to clap along. This was not the "lovably irascible" Carpenter who makes the headlines on nerdy websites every few months when he opines on the shortcomings of contemporary horror, etc. This was a laid back, funky Carpenter––this was Carpenter having fun! (As usual, he was a man of few words, but I'll recount the most memorable ones as I describe his set list.)

He opened, appropriately, with ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK's "Main Title," a classic selection which really got the crowd going. Across the board, I must say that Carpenter's band has a nice, thick sound, and the live arrangements generally differ from the album/soundtrack versions in that there's a greater prevalence of drum orchestration and guitar solos, which ultimately makes for a more satisfying live experience.

Carpy and his crew rock out to ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK. Photo courtesy of John Carpenter's official Facebook page.

Next was ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13's iconic "Main Title," Carpy's first big hit and one so popular that it was even remixed for French discotheques!  (Carpenter declined to play the disco version.)

He followed with two tracks from LOST THEMES, the nostalgic "Vortex" and the thoughtful "Mystery," both pumped up by new arrangements which allowed for an impressive drum foundation and an extended guitar solo from Davies.

After taking a moment to describe his love for ghost movies, Carpy & Co. turned their attention to THE FOG's "Main Title," as blue lights shone bright and the fog machines were turned to full blast. It was a moment of true magic to see Carpenter pounding out that baroque melody while enveloped by his iconic blue fog.

Carpenter and his band proceeded to don sunglasses, and bassist John Spiker plucked out the first five notes from THEY LIVE. The crowd erupted in recognition as "OBEY," "CONSUME," "CONFORM," and "SLEEP" were projected on the screen behind the band. They continued with the rest of "Coming to L.A." (the main theme of THEY LIVE), and when the projection featured Keith David and Roddy Piper's famous fistfight, there was a rather enthusiastic response from the crowd, to say the least.

Next was the only non-Carpenter-composed song of the evening (sorry, STARMAN die-hards––no Jack Nitzsche for you!): the Ennio Morricone-scored "Main Title" from THE THING. Carpenter gave a special shout-out to Morricone as the ominous bass line began to rattle the room.  Stark white light set the proper Antarctic mood, one which was later accompanied by projections of some of the more gruesome (and crowd-pleasing) scenes from THE THING. He followed this up with "Distant Dream" (the opening track from LOST THEMES II), which served as a sort of palate cleanser after that relentless, bassy doom and gloom.

Carpenter dedicated the following song to "a friend I made five movies with, but the most fun we ever had was when we went looking for a girl with green eyes."

There's Biiiiiig Trouble....in Little China! Photo courtesy of John Carpenter's official Facebook page.

Obviously, the friend was Kurt Russell, and the song was "Pork Chop Express," the rootin'-tootin' opening theme to BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA.  (Unfortunately, this was a "John Carpenter Live Retrospective" and not a "Coupe de Villes Reunion Tour," and therefore we were denied the rockin' closing credits music, "Big Trouble in Little China." But I can live with that!)

Carpenter invited the audience to "ride the synth wave" with him, and followed with "Wraith," a melancholy track from LOST THEMES. Then he insisted "these songs so far have been uncharacteristically positive––let's go a little darker... into the 'Night.'" (The "Night" in question being the closing track from LOST THEMES, a gloomy cyberpunk meditation.)

Afterward, insisting that he had "a confession to make," Carpenter humorously admitted to being a horror director before proclaiming "horror movies will live forever!" The crowd roared as Cody began plunking out the HALLOWEEN "Main Theme" (in its distinctive 5/4 time signature). The orchestration that followed was more layered and complex than what originally appeared in 1978, and it was newly arranged for this lineup (though it bore a resemblance to the arrangement from HALLOWEEN II).

He followed this with the rockin' "Main Title" from IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, and Daniel Davies performed the extended guitar solo that his father originally played for the 1994 film. After this, the band left the stage––but you just know Carpy's gonna do an encore:

They returned with "Opening Titles" from PRINCE OF DARKNESS, one of Carpenter's darkest and voxiest tracks. This flowed into "Virtual Survivor," a moody piece from LOST THEMES II, which gave way to "Purgatory," a diptych from the original LOST THEMES that I once imagined was the theme song to the fictitious film, CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG. 

When they'd finished, Carpenter grew pensive, leaning toward the microphone. He said, "As you leave tonight, and go out into the darkness, be careful... 'Christine' is out there!" Two floodlights lit up opposite ends of the stage (approximating the headlights of a haunted Plymouth Fury), and the fourth and final encore was the lesser-known "Main Theme" from CHRISTINE (you may recall that the opening scene is actually set to George Thorogood's "Bad to the Bone").

In all, it was a wonderful experience––wonderful to see one of my heroes not merely yawning through a Q&A, but actually doing what he loves on a stage for a deeply appreciative audience; presenting fresh new material alongside his past classics. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Carpy rocks!

–Sean Gill

Film Review: CODE NAME: WILD GEESE (1984, Antonio Marghereti)

Stars: 2.5 of 5.

Running Time: 101 minutes.

Tag-line: "This is a corporation of businessmen.  Their business is war.  For them, the jungle and the city are the same."

Notable Cast or Crew: Lee Van Cleef (THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY; ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK), Klaus Kinski (AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD; DOCTOR ZHIVAGO), Ernest Borgnine (MARTY, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK), Mimsy Farmer (FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET, MORE), Lewis Collins (KOMMANDO LEOPARD, CONFESSIONS OF A DRIVING INSTRUCTOR).  Directed by Antonio Marghereti (YOR THE HUNTER FROM THE FUTURE, CANNIBAL APOCALYPSE).

Best One-liner: "You find them, and make it slow. I want them to suffer. And then...take PICTURES!"

So you send your buddy down to Drug Mart with 50¢ to grab THE WILD GEESE on VHS with Richard Burton.  Instead, he comes back with this. We're far beyond the point where Margheriti and his Campari-swilling cronies are making any money off of that rental, but, the question is, what are they getting out of it? I would propose that (like every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings) maybe every time a piece of plagiaristic Italo-trash gets mistakenly rented, Fabio Testi gets another pair of tight jeans?

Regardless, this is pretty terrible. The quality is bootleg-level horrid, the action is boring, the characters bland, the editing stale.  It's the kind of flick that makes Michael Winner look like Orson Welles. It features a fairly awful Jan Nemec/Eloy score––kinda Christopher Cross meets De Angelis. Most everyone seems to have done their own dubbing, but Kinski must've thrown a tantrum in post, cause he's been dubbed by a stuffy English gent, which is just plain whacky.
 
Good day to you, sir

Then Mimsy Farmer shows up about 50 minutes in to ruin our lives.  But there's a lot of schweet things going on as well: Lee van Cleef with a Rambo-bandana as the badass prisoner sprung for the mission (in a role reversal from ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK),

Science cannot explain my irrational dislike for Mimsy Farmer (shoulda been Grace Jones)

Ernest Borgnine doing his patented "Borgnine-grin,"


Truly Kinski's madness holds no power in the face of a Borgnine-grin


Kinski's machine gun versus Lee van Cleef's flamethrower-spewing helicopter,



Even the prospect of attacking Kinski with a flying flamethrower does not excite Lee van Cleef

the operation at hand is called "Operation: Cleaning," there's a generic villain named 'Khan' ("You find them, and make it slow. I want them to suffer. And then...take PICTURES!"), and the line "That's Americans for you! The only serious thing we've ever done is revolt against your king, since then, it's just been Hollywood, Hollywood..."

This movie's full of head-scratchers––like the weird nuzzle/forehead rub van Cleef does with Mimsy at the end.

Not sure where this came from.

And where does this guy keep getting ice cold Buds in the middle of the jungle?

I'm reminded of the finale of DELTA FORCE––beers for everybody!

Why do the silenced gunshots sound like a pinball ricochets? How does a car drive sideways along the wall of a tunnel?
 
 
 
 
 
This is truly one of the more majestic scenes in film history: Lewis Collins, while driving his car in a tunnel, swerves to avoid some construction and drives sideways down the tunnel wall (in miniature) for a good forty-five seconds as Ernest Borgnine tries to wrap his head around it, in vain.

Still, this is far from being the worst that Italy has to offer.  I cheerfully give it two and a half stars.

–Sean Gill

Film Review: THE UNTOUCHABLES (1987, Brian de Palma)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 119 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Kevin Costner, Robert De Niro, Sean Connery, Charles Martin Smith (AMERICAN GRAFFITI, STARMAN), Andy Garcia (THE GODFATHER PART III, BLACK RAIN), Billy Drago (TREMORS 4, DELTA FORCE 2), Patricia Clarkson (THE GREEN MILE, THE WOODS), Jack Kehoe (SERPICO, MIDNIGHT RUN), Don Harvey (CREEPSHOW 2, DIE HARD 2). Screenplay by David Mamet, music by Ennio Morricone, cinematography by Stephen H. Burum (CARLITO'S WAY, RAISING CAIN, ARTHUR 2: ON THE ROCKS).

Tagline: "AL CAPONE. He ruled Chicago with absolute power. No one could touch him. No one could stop him. - Until Eliot Ness and a small force of men swore they'd bring him down."

Best one-liner: "Isn't that just like a wop? Brings a knife to a gun fight." (said in Sean Connery's Scottish brogue)

THE UNTOUCHABLES is a pretty solid flick. I saw it when I was rather young, and I remember it making quite an impression. Part buddy cop movie, part mobster epic, part Peckinpah-style shoot-'em-'up, part courtroom drama, part police procedural, part Sergei Eisenstein meets John Woo– it pretty much had it all. Initially I saw it because INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE had recently come out and it had launched a Sean Connery kick for me that never really did end, now that I think about it. I believe it may have been my first exposure to Brian de Palma and David Mamet, too. In the years hence, I know that Mamet has written works with greater depth and resonance than this, and I know that De Palma has made movies that are artsier and even more ludicrous, but it's nice to return to THE UNTOUCHABLES, like an old friend– an old friend with a reverb-heavy, kickass 80's Morricone soundtrack who luvs slo-mo squib action and disguising split-screen shots as ridiculous deep-focus shots.

Anyway, others, such as J.D. at Radiator Heaven, John Kenneth Muir, and Mr. Peel's Sardine Liqueur have pretty much said what needs to be said about the film in the realms of historical context, profundity, and classiness, so I suppose that instead of covering ground that's already been covered, I'll do what I am wont to do: leap headlong into the absurdity and minutiae of THE UNTOUCHABLES!

As such, I'll divide my observations into two parts: Drago-related, and non-Drago-related. The non-Drago-related section is gonna be pretty small, actually.

Non-Drago-Related Observations:

#1. Don Harvey.

Hey, look, guys– it's Don Harvey, handing Kevin Costner an axe! You remember Don Harvey, don't you? From DIE HARD 2 and CREEPSHOW 2? I've described him as proto-Peter Weller meets proto-Kevin Bacon, and hey– I like the guy. Nice to see you, Don.

#2. TENEBRE homage.

Oh, De Palma, I love ya. During a notable scene when Sean Connery is being stalked at his home, the camera shifts forward and backward, tracking across the exterior architecture, catching voyeuristic glimpses of Connery, and ending with a first-person P.O.V. of hands breaking into a window, just like the legendary crane shot in TENEBRE (which has nearly the exact same visuals, and ends with black-gloved hands wielding bolt-cutters to gain entrance to a window). Sure, it doesn't matter much in the long run, but it makes me kinda tingly when Argento gets a well-deserved salute. Unless said salute is being delivered by Diablo Cody. Or to Diablo Cody. Eh. Anyway, TENEBRE is notably referenced in RAISING CAIN, too.

#3. Connery's booze stash.

Throughout the film, my girlfriend was remarking that "there's no way Connery is sober during this," and I, not having seen the film in a dozen years or so, was saying "he's fighting alcohol bootleggers, let 'im total his tea." Anyway, during the sequence referenced in #2, Connery pulls a bottle o' contraband hooch out of his oven and has a snort. Also of note: Connery is apparently playing an Irish American with a Scottish accent, just as he played a Spaniard with a Scottish accent, and in the future would go on to play a Russian with a Scottish accent. A versatile fellow, he.


Drago-Related Observations:


Who is that terrifying, cheek-boney, crazy-eyed, thin white duke lurking in the shadows, there? Wait a minute, wait a minute... a sense memory is kicking in... could it be...

Holy shit, now the wheels are turning, ladies and gentlemen! "Smooth Criminal" was on BAD, released in late August 1987. THE UNTOUCHABLES was early June 1987. Could it be? Could the inspiration for "Smooth Criminal" be none other than ....BILLY DRAGO???


"As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo"

"He left the bloodstains on the carpet"

"You've been hit by, you've been hit by, a smooth criminal"

And then, it turns out that Drago later appeared, in 2001, in a Michael Jackson video called "You Rock My World!" Is it possible that all of Jackson's surgeries involved wanting to be more like Billy Drago? Is MOONWALKER indirectly the result of Billy Drago's acting brilliance? Who is Annie? And more importantly, is she okay? So many unanswered questions.

But I believe I may have put the cart before the horse. Let me back up for a moment. Billy Drago, long beloved by this site, plays "Frank Nitti," the white-suit-clad doer of Al Capone's dirty-work. He blows up children, he skulks in the dark, he kills beloved characters, he makes thinly veiled threats and dons a devilish grin.


And he does it with style. That's Drago for ya. The man is one of a kind. Make no mistake about that. I may have alluded to other celebrities with "thin white duke," or "smooth criminal," or, hell, once I even called him "Scary Dean Stanton," but my point is this: you believe Drago, every step of the way. Here is an actor who connects with the material, brings it alive, even when he's bringing alive an attempted Chuck Norris makeout session. And by the time THE UNTOUCHABLES is over: you will believe a Drago can fly– (which again, returning to DELTA FORCE 2, appears to be a recurring career theme!)

...Amen.


-Sean Gill

Junta Juleil's Top 100: #50-46

50. DUCK, YOU SUCKER (1971, Sergio Leone)  

One of Leone's finest achievements, and one which only grows in impact with each subsequent viewing. Beginning with the depiction of a man pissing on an anthill and ending with the mournful cry "What about me?," DUCK, YOU SUCKER is sort of the ultimate statement on revolution– its winners, its losers, its agitators, its perpetuators, and the seemingly endless supply of moneyed, oppressive motherfuckers who always manage to reappear after a revolution, like the regenerative heads of the Hydra. Leone pulls no punches here: even though it's peppered with action and humor, it's brutal, passionate, and operatic. It's James Coburn's Sean and Rod Steiger's Juan, two sides of the same coin, who criss-cross paths with one another– one in decline, and one unknowingly on the rise. So many emotions are captured to the point of perfection: the exhilaration of bank-robbing or riding out in open country, the disgust at watching blue-bloods stuffing their anus-mouths, the sting of betrayal and the deeper sting of the betrayed, the unequivocal horror of mass graves. Leone is writing his history of the Twentieth Century, the Era of Extermination, the epoch of man perfecting his ability to stamp himself out. Orwell saw the future as a boot stomping on a human face forever– Leone sees men pissing on ants, pissing on each other, clawing at one another in a bloodied trench of corpses as our overlords above prepare to administer the coup de grace, just as perhaps the overlords' overlords prepare to administer their own. It's monstrous, it's soaring, it's Goya, it's John Ford, it's Mozart, it's Pagliacci. Ennio Morricone is in top form, and he creates a score full of perhaps a dozen individualized themes, any of which could carry a movie on their own. Coburn and Steiger are grand, Antoine Saint-John is frightening, Romolo Valli exudes the proper complexity. It speaks to the sheer quality of Leone's body of work that even this is still his third-best film. (Side note: it's unclear if Leone thought that "Duck, you sucker" was a common English expression, or if he believed he'd be creating a new catchphrase with it, but either way, you've got to love those Italians.) 

 

49. THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK (1980, Irvin Kershner)  

My favorite film in the STAR WARS trilogy, THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK saw Lucas kept in check via formidable craftsman-ly direction by Irvin Kershner, and an occasionally tragic, occasionally quotable, often mystical, and always two-fisted screenplay by old-Hollywood worshipper Lawrence Kasdan (RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, SILVERADO, BODY HEAT) and old-Hollywood player Leigh Brackett (RIO BRAVO, THE BIG SLEEP, THE LONG GOODBYE). Even chubby, post-fugue state, CGI-humpin' George Lucas couldn't find too much to mess with in the various iterations of EMPIRE we've seen since 1997. I don't know what to say that hasn't been said ad nauseum by STAR WARS acolytes already, but we've got Frank Oz taking the art of filmic puppetry to new and astounding heights, Boba Fett exuding Western-baddie cool without actually doing anything, Harrison Ford in his first appearance as a capital-A Actor, Carrie Fisher fueled by mountains of cocaine, towering and frightening stop-motion vehicles, elegant matte paintings, loads of C-3PO/Lando Calrissian homoeroticism, a hand-puppet that eats spaceships, an exhilaratingly complex John Williams score, more strangulation per capita than any comparable PG-rated space opera (even Chewie gets in on the action), abominable snowmen, Cliff Clavin, and a really awkward breakfast with Darth Vader. It's better than HOWARD THE DUCK is what I'm saying. 

 

 48. BRAZIL (1985, Terry Gilliam)  

An eye-popping dystopian cauldron of Kafka and Orwell brazenly stirred by visual mastermind Terry Gilliam, BRAZIL (originally conceived as "1984 AND 1/2") piles on the grandeur, cheekiness, and dread that one would expect from such an endeavor. It's filled with genius performances and memorable moments– Jim Broadbent freakishly contorting the rubbery face of socialite Katherine Helmond; the breathtaking clashes between Icarus-armor clad Jonathan Pryce and a gargantuan samurai; mustachioed Robert De Niro bursting forth from here, there, and everywhere, a postmodern anti-bureaucratic Robin Hood; Ian Richardson leading a phalanx of pencil-pushers, striding purposefully through an office which bears more resemblance to a parking garage; Michael Palin leading awkward, flustering torture sessions while donning a grotesque baby mask; the paralyzing paramilitary-style assaults on average Joes by the minions of the Ministry of Information– it's nearly two-and-a-half hours of nonstop hilarity, wonderment, and torment, and I'm fairly certain that Kafka (who was rumored to chuckle his way through readings of his manuscripts) would be proud.  

 

47. DOCKS OF NEW YORK (1928, Josef von Sternberg)  

Probably my favorite silent film of all time, DOCKS OF NEW YORK is a mist-enshrouded and shadow-entrenched look at life and love between grime-coated, seafaring brutes and suicidal, proto-Dietrich barflies. The entire first half of the film takes place in near-darkness– unforgiving furnace rooms, tenebrous alleways, murky canals, and a rough n' tumble tavern full of cheap drinks, cheaper drunks, and a rogue's gallery of other salty characters. But then the plot develops and this endless night ends– daylight hits, and it's stark and painful and shocking because we've adjusted ourselves to the darkness; it's the same effect as waking after too little sleep on the morning after a night of debauchery, and it's astonishing to really feel that intruding dawn in the context of watching a film. DOCKS OF NEW YORK is a treatise on impulse, the worth of human beings, and what it's like to spend a lifetime scraping the bottom of the (sardine?) barrel while catching only fleeting glimpses of happiness from between the wooden slats. Also see: THE SCARLET EMPRESS, MOROCCO, BLONDE VENUS, THE LAST COMMAND, et al. Sternberg's one of the greats, and I'd recommend any of his films that I've seen without reservation.  

 

46. SUNSET BLVD. (1950, Billy Wilder) 

What to say? That the funeral for an ape sequence is more subtly terrifying than any horror flick released in the last fifteen years? That Gloria Swanson is the scariest woman not named Joan Crawford to ever draw breath? That Erich von Stroheim is so damned classy they should give him an extra "von" or two? I mean, just look at this stuff:

  

  

  

  

 

  

If you haven't already, I mean... Just go see the damn thing. Coming up next... Even more Eigeman, sandwich-making with Crispin Glover, and more Argento! 

-Sean Gill