No Rest for the Wicked: Music Ramblings & A Tribute to Helix

There are few types of art that fans get more clannish about than music. Fans can be downright dogmatic. The classic rock fans sneer at the heavy metal fans, then the heavy metal fans sneer at the country fans and rinse repeat. After awhile it can start to sound like one annoying SAT question. I was lucky enough to be raised in an environment where all sorts of music was played. My Mom listens to the Statler Brothers and AC/DC with everything in between, so sonic schizophrenia is something I come by quite righteously. The beauty of this is that the odds of missing out on some truly great music becomes significantly lowered. It also grants me the opportunity to horrify some of my less broadminded friends.

One of the best genres to do this with is rock & roll. Sure, most love The Beatles, but when it comes to hard rock, that's when it can get elitist. That's why artists like The Dictators still don't get the critical love that they deserve, and yet folks wet their collective pants over dinosaurs like Eric Clapton. Face it, Clapton was a born dinosaur, especially after the dissolution of Cream.

In the pantheon of underrated hard rock bands, one of the greatest examples is the Canadian group Helix. While they did receive some airplay with their anthem, “Rock You,” they ended up flying under the radar as inferior bands got bigger notice. In a era where Bon Jovi was huge, you can feel my dismay. One of the best things about Helix is that while they didn't exactly reinvent the wheel, they instead took the wheel and made it the best damn one that they could. Like alchemists of rock, they were even able to get away with one of the biggest cardinal sins of 1980's...the dreaded ballad! Yet, when Helix does a ballad, say something like “Make Me Do Anything You Want” or “Dream On,” it has texture and heart. So many bands were like a dead eyed stripper grinding dutifully for your money, whereas Helix is the one that will actually make eye contact, perform like they mean it because maybe,just maybe, they do actually mean it.

My first big exposure to Helix was landing a copy of the video compilation, “Red Hot Rock.” At the time, the main selling point for me was more based on The Tubes content than anything else. It may seem strange nowadays with the blessed advent of sites like YouTube and Vimeo, but accessing certain music videos back a few years ago was more the luck of the draw than anything else. Stranger still, there were a handful of videos made that were definitely not MTV friendly. While the PG versions of these clips would occasionally play, their more R-rated incarnations were left in the ether of the occasional showing on the then brand new Playboy channel, in nightclubs and the burgeoning frontier of VHS.

One of the bands that took advantage of this new format was Helix, who had not one but two music videos on “Red Hot Rock.” There's the wonderfully goony clip for “Rock You,” featuring the band on some kind of post-apocalyptic chain gang. They break free early on and are greeted with lots of fire, greased up topless warrior women and some of the worst background dancing in music video history. This is the kind of case where the biggest boobs in the video are the non-Helix dudes. 

The second saucy video is their cover of Crazy Elephant's 1969 hit “Gimme Gimme Good Lovin,” featuring the time worn plot device of a Miss Rock Fantasy beauty pageant. Like “Rock You” before it, there were two versions, including a PG one as well as an R-rated one. You can guess which one made it on “Red Hot Rock.” Hint: it's the one with the titties.

The video is a fleshy splendor of lovely girls, ¾ of which cannot dance to save their lives, echoing their brethren in “Rock You.” Some like to focus on the obvious aspects here, namely the jiggle factor, some of which included scream queen Brinke Stevens and Traci Lords, who gets to look smashing in an S/M style getup while destroying produce with a sledgehammer. Hey, it's still better than “Blade.” But forget all that, because the inner core of amazement belongs to the band, between the song, which is that rare cover that improves upon the original, and the fact that lead singer Brian Vollmer can out dance any of the girls. For proof, check out the PG rated version featuring one of the man's famous somersaults, which is slowed down for the most epic effect.

From then on, I ended up picking up a vinyl copy of their 1984 album, “Walkin' the Razor's Edge,” which featured “Gimme Gimme” and it was solid love after that. Each subsequent album bought just got better with nary a bum track. Given that we're talking about a band that continued to make solid rock & roll in the bloated waters that were the 1980's, this is an amazing fact. Hard rock and metal bands that once had some modicum of integrity sold their souls to Satan to create chart topping “power ballads.” (Ironic name for something that usually lacked power or any kind, unless you count the power to suck ass.)

A huge part of my love for this band is also the feeling that these are guys that truly love what they do. When artists, whether it is poets, actors or musicians alike, are genuinely into what they are expressing, then they will never play you for cheap. Seeing some Madison Avenue friendly “rockers” like the aforementioned Bon Jovi, complete with perfect hair, white teeth and insipid music that plays it as safe as any boy band, is so depressing. Helix, even in the spandex and fringe era were defiantly unpretty, with Vollmer almost gleefully displaying his missing tooth in at least a few videos (“Rock You” immediately comes to mind.) That is way more sexy than the ole bait and switch of much of the fare that passed as rock back in the days of MTV.

Speaking of which, everyone needs to kill any nostalgia they may have for MTV. Sure they used to play music videos but keep in mind they would usually play the same five clips over and over again. While you would patiently wait, hoping to maybe catch a glance of something actually good, whether it was Siouxsie & the Banshees or Motorhead, you would have to endure 8 hours of the latest Whitney Houston video. Don't let the haze of age cloud your memory, folks. MTV sucks now but it kind of sucked back then too.

Something that definitely does not suck is the sheer tenacity of Helix, especially in the form of the man, Brian Vollmer. Despite line-up changes, losing a key member with the untimely passing of guitarist and song writer Paul Hackman in 1992, being mugged and, at one point, having his vocal chords heavily damaged only to get back to full singing capacity by learning the classical vocal technique of Bel Canto, the man has still kept the band alive and kicking.

Even better, while they may remain a cult band here in the States, Helix has had some resurgence in their native Canada thanks to the brilliant television show, “Trailer Park Boys.” If a show as great as “Trailer Park Boys” can show some love to Helix, so can you.

For more information on Helix, check out their official website: www.planethelix.com

I Was a Teenage Gamer

 In the world of fringe arts, perhaps no group gets the least respect than games. It's classic, really. Anything creative that is made for the purpose of engaging its audience with entertainment will almost always get overlooked. That's why comedy and horror eternally get the critical cold shoulder versus drama, even though one could successfully argue that most dramas are just as emotionally exploitative. But that's another article. Growing up in the 90's, there were key things that made the hormonal hell of adolescence and public school more tolerable. Movies/movie books and magazines were number one, with music, especially bands like The Cramps and Roxy Music, being a close second. But right behind was something that still gets, I think, critically bypassed as a legit means of expression; computer games. (Video games too, but since I was always more of a computer gamer, we're sticking to that for today.) 

 If you think about it, it takes an unbelievable amount of creativity and technological savvy to create a great computer game. Artists aren't typically thought of as having the Type A brains to utilize complex technology. (In fact, this Type B brain hurts just even thinking about what it took to create games back in the frontier days of coding and even DOS.) But yet, some amazing games emerged in the 80's and 90's that could not only satisfy both types and even better, fully engage your own imagination. In some cases, they can even engage your emotions. Yet, other than within the hardcore gaming community, you're rarely going to see a lot of these vintage games get the appreciation and coverage that they deserve. It's this sort of weird snobbery that I like to rally against, as if anything that provides someone happiness is instantly not respectable, which is absurd. Elitism has never brought anything but mal-informed misery, especially in the arts.

While I can't move mountains, just yet, I can give a little tribute to the games that inspired me during the 1990's, ranging from extremely well written adventures to strategy to first-person shooters. Without further ado....

-Doom (id Software, 1993) Doom, for a lot of people, was the granddaddy of first person shooters. It wasn't the first, but it took the groundwork laid out by games like Castle Wolfenstein 3D and turned it into something that a gun-happy cenobite could love. In fact, both games were developed by id and shared main programmers, John Romero and John Cormack. Wolfenstein was good but Doom was incredible, creating a tangibly creepy atmosphere, between the unforgettable shrieks and growls that emitted from the gnarly assortment of demons, to the often gruesome displays of humans that were less fortunate (and less armed) than yourself. Take a touch of dismemberment and a couple of splashes of Satanic imagery, some amazing gameplay and you had one fun as Hell ride. Any game that has levels with titles like "Knee Deep in the Dead" and "Shores of Hell" was destined to find a place in my horror kid heart. Who wouldn't love the chance to attack various infernal creatures with weapons ranging from a chainsaw (nice "Evil Dead" reference, btw) to the ultimate in carnage-havoc, the BFG9000. (You can probably guess what that acronym stands for.) 

While I never got to play any of the many user-altered levels, I still remember reading about them in PC Gamer, where they had a fantastic still shot of Barney the Dinosaur replacing one of the monsters in the game. That would have been fun! But still, Doom to this day is my favorite first person shooter and for anyone that still thinks that games like this are a seed of real-life violence, know that the person writing this article is a pacifist vegetarian. So munch on that.

-Jagged Alliance (SirTech Software, 1994) I've always had a soft spot for a good strategy game. While Jagged Alliance didn't initially get some of the acclaim that games like Syndicate (Bullfrog, 1993), Masters of Orion (Simtex, 1993) or Sid Meier's Civilization (Microprose, 1991) (all fantastic games, by the way) did, it built up a cult thanks to its smart gameplay and action-film ready storyline. Your job is to assemble a group of Mercenaries, who range wildly in nationalities, abilities and price range, and take back the Island of Metavira from Lucas Santino, a former scientist who wants sole control of the small nation. The reason? The island contains Fallow trees, which are indigenous solely to Metavira. These trees produce a sap that can be used to cure every disease. Jagged Alliance is the best of both worlds, allowing you to indulge in mercenary action but also employing your noggin at the same time. Plus, the fun and challenge of managing a diverse and occasionally motley crew of mercs is hard to beat.

Ivan, my favorite of the Mercs. 

 

-Lost in Time (Coktel Vision, 1993) & Virtual Murder 2-The Magic Death (Creative Multimedia, 1993) There is one big thing these games have in common. They both employed an early version of full motion video, which may seem like nothing in the high definition landscape of today, but back in the early 90's, it was a big deal. Of course the quality back when these games were released was barely above camcorder as far as video goes, but given that just a few short years ago computer games were text based and crude pixels, this was pretty amazing. 

Lost in Time featured an intriguing storyline where your character, Doralice, has inherited a coastal mansion, complete with a mysterious ship. She ends up traveling back in time, which tends to happen on weird inherited ships, only to discover the its slave trade origins, as well as some of her family's strange lineage. Created by the French company Coktel and released by gaming giants Sierra On-Line here in the States, Lost in Time's unique story, coupled with some lovely graphics and some odd puzzles made for a fun and memorable gaming experience. 

  The Magic Death, comparatively, was a little more simple, both in terms of graphics and gameplay. But what it may have lacked in visual panache, it more than made up for it with the premise, involving the murder of a promising grad student named Elspeth Haskard. Elspeth's specialty was Haitian Voodoo, making her the darling of the academic world. It also made her a target of jealousy. Mix a complicated love life and one sketchy brother into the mix and you get a fun murder-mystery cocktail. Featuring three different endings, The Magic Death is a game that has a warm place in my heart, partially because of the whole mixing of Voodoo and the tense world of upper academia. The woman behind this game, Shannon Gilligan, also created a couple of related games, as well as a number of Choose Your Own Adventure books back in the 80's. Which given the very nature of The Magic Death, makes total sense.

-Phantasmagoria (Sierra On-Line, 1995) It's not just a really terrific, underrated album by The Damned. (Seriously, it's a fantastic album. The Damned will never let you down.) It was also a breakthrough computer game. Along with Wing Commander 3 (Origin Systems, 1994) and The Beast Within: A Gabriel Knight Mystery (Sierra On-Line, 1995), this was one of the best uses of full motion video ever. It featured good computer graphics, sharp gameplay and a tight-wire thriller plotline. You play a writer named Adrienne, whom along with her husband Donald, moves into a gorgeous old mansion that was once inhabited by a deranged and murderous magician by the name of Carno. Turns out ole Carno was a fan of the dark arts, which is none too surprising coming from a magician with a name like Carno. It practically screams consorting with the Devil. Anyways, his dabbling released a demon that not only possessed him, but also drove him to murder his multiple wives. (The most grisly death involves him force feeding one highly unlucky spouse entrails until she chokes to death.) It is only a matter of time before the demonically sullied spirit of Carno takes a hold of Donald, leaving Adrienne to fight for both her life and that of her husband's.

Phantasmagoria has all the dark wonders, ghoulish delights and Grand Guignol charms of the 1700's form of lantern theater for which it got its name. The story is great, as well as the acting from the two leads, Victoria Morsell and David Homb. At the time, Phantasmagoria was shipped on a total of 7 discs, which was practically unheard of. But switching them out during gameplay was well worth the hothouse of thrills and overall spooky ambiance that the game provided. It was a highlight for the long respected work of Sierra On-Line and perhaps the biggest jewel in the crown of its creator and Sierra's co-founder, Roberta Williams.

The game was so popular that it spawned an unrelated sequel, Phantasmagoria 2: Puzzle of Flesh (Sierra On-Line, 1996), this time created by Lorelei Shannon, noted author and computer game designer. While Shannon had some good ambitions and ideas, the game fell way short, with having a nebbishly unlikable lead character being a good chunk of the problem. Going from such a strong heroine like Adrienne to some uncharismatic nerd named Curtis who still inexplicably gets laid was too big of a leap for many gamers. There are some good side characters, including Curtis's gay best friend and some intriguing ideas that, in the end, would have made for a better book than a game. That can be one of the most difficult things with incorporating good writing into gaming. Sometimes it can work without harming the gameplay and in the most ideal cases, even enhancing it. But others time, it can end up being an unhappy marriage.

There is one Mecha-Godzilla sized exception to this rule, which is....

  The Beast Within:A Gabriel Knight Mystery (Sierra On-Line, 1995). Out of all the games I have ever played, this is the one that has stayed in my consciousness all of these years. The second of the Gabriel Knight trilogy, The Beast Within was an instant standout for a number of reasons. For starters, its blend of the supernatural theme of werewolves, repressed sexuality, a lost opera from Richard Wagner and the mysterious death of King Ludwig II of Bavaria was nothing short of brilliant. The amount of research that creator Jane Jensen did, especially regarding Ludwig and Germany in general, was unparalleled in an non-education related game. Even better, was the deftness in how well the research is integrated into the story, as well as the game.

The gameplay is very smooth, featuring a smart questioning system, but also a number of challenging but halfway realistic puzzles. Meaning while being somewhat intuitive with puzzles is helpful, you don't need a degree from MIT to solve any of the them. (As opposed to say games like Myst (Cyan, 1993) or even some of the puzzles that would appear in The Beast Within's sequel, Gabriel Knight 3: Blood of the Sacred, Blood of the Damned (Sierra On-Line, 1999.) The game also makes stunning use of the German scenery, utilizing photos and enhancing them, portraying an accurate yet near-dream like view of such sites as Ludwig's most famous castle, Neuschwanstein, as well as Marienplatz, Munich's main square.

Then there's the full motion video, which surpasses even “Phantasmagoria” in terms of look, as well as consistent acting. Even the bit actors in The Beast Within are pitch perfect. For anyone who played the first Gabriel Knight game, Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers (Sierra On-Line, 1993) , there is no actor who could have fit the physicality of Gabriel better than Dean Erickson. The first game was pure graphics, with the CD-rom version featuring voice acting from Michael Dorn, a pre-fame Leah Remini, Efram Zimbalist Jr and Tim Curry as the titular character. While everyone and their mother should know the pure, undiluted awesomeness that is Tim Curry, the Gabriel of The Beast Within was, pun totally intended, a different animal. Erickson not only looks like Gabriel, but nails the character's mix of hero, cad and schattenjager (German for shadow hunter and the name for a long line of fighters against the evils of the supernatural). In addition to Erickson, there's also Joanne Takahashi as Gabriel's sidekick, the more sensible and knowledge driven Grace Nakimura. Takahashi's all brass balls with vulnerability as Grace. 

You can't have light without the dark, hence the group of characters that are all members of the Royal Bavarian Hunting Lodge, whom may or may not have connections to the strings of murders around the nearby countryside. The biggest standout is Peter J. Lucas as the lodge's charismatic leader, Baron Von Glower, who is less villain and more old world warmth with a past. One of my favorites is the delightfully hedonistic and potential BDSM enthusiast, Otto Preiss, played with refined yet sleazy relish by Clabe Hartley. For my fellow fringe film enthusiasts, keep an eye out for the late, great Nicholas Worth (“Don't Answer the Phone”) as the gruff police chief, Leber. 

Part of what makes The Beast Within so special is that in addition to being the best computer game I have ever played, it is also one of the best stories I have ever read. The plot is intricate and compelling, but even better, the characters are so well fleshed out and layered. Again, the detail, in all of its multifaceted glories, shines jewel-like in this game. There's never been a game that has matched or surpassed all of these elements together quite like The Beast Within.

There you have it! A peek into all the major games that made their individual imprints into my heart, consciousness and sub-consciousness. Whether it's cloven hoofed uber-demons, Russian mercenaries or German werewolves, I hope all of these games will continue to live on, as we maybe encounter a time where games are critically examined as creative works. Pop culture, after all, is still culture. 

Copyright 2013 Heather Drain

One Track Mind or Why Walter Lure is One of the Coolest Guys in Rock & Roll

Every legend needs a foil, a sideman who is talented enough to stand out but instinctive enough to know when to pull back. Walter Lure was all that and more when he joined and became an integral part of seminal punk band, The Heartbreakers. The original line-up was the equivalent to the Olympics of NYC punk; founder Richard Hell, who had recently skipped out of Television, Jerry Nolan and Johnny Thunders, both from the groundbreaking and newly imploded New York Dolls. Then there was the dark horse of the group, fresh from a local band called The Demons, Mr. Walter "Waldo" Lure. Richard Hell didn't stay too long, with Johnny and Walter taking over vocal duties and Billy Rath joining in on bass. It was a band of stars, but the one that has my love and undying attention has got to be Walter Lure.

Lanky-looking, with sharp features (the best eyebrows in the rock&roll biz!) and often dressed like a businessman who said screw it and became an artist (quite appropriate since his day job involves working on Wall Street), there is only one Walter Lure. I first noticed Lure in the wee hours of night, right before sunrise, one booze-soaked night when my then boyfriend, now husband Chuck threw on his VHS copy of “Johnny Thunders: Dead or Alive.” While I was already familiar with Thunders and some of the work of The Heartbreakers (thank you Rhino Records), getting to see the band in action was a gift. Trash rock at its finest and while no one in their right or wrong mind could deny the star power of Thunders, it was the figure of his rhythm guitarist that caught my eye.

Anyone who has seen Lure can understand why. He's the figure of a wise-ass dandy who is a born and bred rock and roller. The man's got the musical chops down, knowing enough to be dangerous but also being wise enough to not wank his ability. Even better, the cat's got a wicked sense of humor and is still playing great music nowadays with his band The Waldos. Now an elder statesman of punk, Walter Lure still has more rock and roll authority in one of his neck ties than anyone you're gonna see at your local club.

So you can have your phoney boloney guitar hero wankers and punk rock poseurs, because anyone truly in the know should have a special place of reverie for the man. Walter Lure is more rock and roll than any butt-rock beer commercial band or Elvis-guyliner-sneering-friendly-for-commercial-airplay wharf rat. 

Sick Sad World: Hank Kirton's Conservatory of Death

The Suburbs 2012 C.F. Roberts

When a sin goes too far, it's like a runaway car. It cannot be controlled.”

• “The Blue Mask” Lou Reed

If humanity was represented by a patchwork quilt, then there would be sections that

are interconnected by dried blood, bad history and other sundry biohazards. Throw in some black-as-an -oil-spill humor and some of the most simultaneously unflinching, lyrical and expertly crafted writing that I have read in a long time, then you are skirting right into the territory of Hank Kirton's novel, “Conservatory of Death.”

“Conservatory” is a book that provides a view into a world littered with serial killers, perma-damaged childhoods and a snuff obsessed culture that would rather wallow and perpetuate in death than prevent it. There is a truth to this world view, which makes the proceedings all the more creepy. In fact the title is a reference to a series of Mondo Morte tapes, ala Faces of Death, Traces of Death, Death Scenes et al. These tapes are made and released by Swatt Winston, a young, stoned out man whose memories are occasionally flooded with shards of childhood trauma, all revolving around his cult musician father, Zachary Winston.

In Swatt's orbit, we meet his sister Betty, the formerly named Benevolent, a nurse who looks after elderly patients who are infirm and are on their way out. Then there is Chunk and Janet, a power-couple of serial murder, sexual torture and aching stupidity. Littering the background is an equally colorful crew of characters, including a long forgotten silent film star, a young writer mired in meth and hooking and one intensely vile, horrible old man.

This is a book that manages to find that precarious balance that so few works that dip into deep, violent territories do. Kirton's writing manages to be firm, uncompromising and yet at times, strangely beautiful and even poetic, when it needs to be. This is not a book for the squeamish but then again, good art should never make you just squeamish, but also curious and captivated. This is exactly what “Conservatory” will do.

All of the characters hold true, to the extent where you can easily picture every little unmentioned flaw, whether it is the vaguely stank smell of stale weed to fine facial lines and chicken pox scars. It is these details that will undoubtedly make the book a harder pill to swallow for some. Not unlike the real world, this is a book where everyone's got a demon, to the point where some folks will swallow them whole and become their demon. But this is why it is so good, because Kirton obviously knows his characters and displays an intrinsic degree of understanding with them, no matter how putrid or heartbreaking their actions may be. There's nothing worse than a writer going through the motions, much like a dead eyed stripper grinding against your leg, who looks like she would rather be clipping chewed gum out of her hair than to be within 50 feet of your touch-starved self. Thankfully, this is far from the case.

It is this type of literary purity, not to mention the wholly uniqueness of Kirton's voice that make this a standout work. “Conservatory of Death” is like a primal scream that collapses into a tear and blood stained whimper, all in the best possible of ways. Kudos to Jim Lopez at Antique Children for publishing such a brave, bold work.

If you love great fiction that is uncompromising and lovely in its language, no matter how extreme the situations can get, then do pick up Hank Kirton's “Conservatory of Death.” It is a novel that is not easy to forget, both due to the quality of writing and the tapestry of human violence and misery.

You can either buy "Conservatory of Death" directly here or via Amazon.

Soothing the Savage Snake Plant: Updates a Go-Go

The last time I was here, the weather was only halfway inhospitable and I had yet to be fully aware of the genius that is Mort Garson. After a long spell of three-digit weather and The Wozard of Iz, I am back with a small slew of updates and previews.




For you fans of all things "Dark Shadows" and Stanley Kubrick's THE KILLING, please check out the newest Video Watchdog. Issue 169 features a fantastic roundtable revolving around the groundbreaking Gothic soap opera, "Dark Shadows." The discussion includes such highly respected writers as Tim Lucas, Maitland McDonaugh, Richard Harland Smith, Kim Newman, as well as filmmaker Robert Tinnell and Dark Shadows historian, Darren Gross. Oh yes and I was lucky enough to be included to.

In addition that genre finery, you can also check out my review of one of my favorite films of all time, Stanley Kubrick's 1950's noir, THE KILLING. A film so great that it not only features such amazing actors as Marie Windsor and Elisha Cook Jr, but also the two titans of my film loving heart, Sterling Hayden and the man himself, Timothy Carey.

Of course, I have also been contributing to the finest fringe pop culture website, Dangerous Minds. If you love such wildly diverse figures as Chesty Morgan, John Dunsworth and Rowland S. Howard, then grab a fancy drink and read up!


There will be more article goodness coming up for the great VHS loving zine Lunchmeat and of course, this very site as well. In fact, there will be something coming very soon that is wholly unique, so stay tuned kitty-cats.

Don't you know that I'm a 2000 Man or My Life as a Film Writer

There are certain things in this life that are predestined for all of us. Some folks grow up loving to cook and become chefs. Others have no souls and grow up thinking Eric Clapton is the best bluesman out there. It happens. For me, art has been my Siamese-twin since birth. Whether it was putting on plays with household objects when I was little or educating myself about cinema, it's my old friend and my continual habit. Film writing, in a lot of ways, is one of my pre-destined paths. Writing is something I have always done, mainly because I have no choice. With anything creative, you do these things out of a sense of need and compulsion. Working in the arts in general can be a long road of rejection, mental blocks and loved ones who don't understand why you are not getting Stephen King sized book deals. Even worse, once you get into specific types of art, you then have to deal occasionally with petty peers and weird agendas. One person brands you as too intellectual while another thinks you're too crude and working class. For a piece of fiction I once submitted, I had an editor get offended by my story having a morally flawed but goodhearted hero. (Namely, a dandified gigolo named Renaldo.)

The thing they can never teach you in school about writing is that you can't please everybody and if you are foolhardy enough to try, you risk compromising your own voice but for the worst kind of results, the dreaded mediocrity. Granted, that doesn't mean disregard constructive criticism, because anything that can help you grow tighter with your craft is a gift that should be fully accepted. In addition to all of that, art is subjective and not everyone has to like what you do, either. This is normal but there is a difference between someone having a different opinion and someone being a dick. If it's the latter, learn to laugh at them, have a shot of something strong and use that vinegar to fuel something even bigger and better than what you originally created. Success is better than slashing their tires or investing yourself in the dark arts just to curse their joyless selves.

With film, what moves me are often the same things that move me about expression in general. A great film is a like a great song, story or painting. It should move you, punch you in the gut, give you a warm hug, leave you bleeding in an alley under the stars, make love to you, make you feel like the world is a little more jewel like or alternately, have you come crashing down to the realization of how jacked up the human condition truly is. Great art is like being in your favorite neon lit bar, the one that reeks of nicotine and stale beer, with the sound of someone crying behind you while a couple dance on obliviously to an old Slade tune, too lost in their good time and lust to notice the fringes of human sadness all around. Or great art can be a cute puppy. The beauty is that it can be all of these things and more, just as long as it doesn't just settle. Settling is the worst. It's almost better to hate something then to feel indifferently about it.

The beauty of cinema is that for being a relatively young form, the options of what you can explore are almost endless. The only limitations are time, money and your own tastes. The best thing about the latter is that, much like your palate, it will change and evolve. I hated westerns as a kid but as I got exposed to films by guys like Sergio Leone and titles like “The Great Silence,” that changed quite a bit. The best surprises can sometimes come from within.

My biggest goal as a writer is to bring you into these worlds, sometime as an act of love, warning, preservation and maybe a bit of all three. The work has to be like a bright neon light, attractive to some, too much for others but always colorful. (And attractive to moths. I love moths.) But not only that, I hope to help, dandelion style, spread the seeds of all the great art out there. For me, that's what a writer who delves into cinema, music and art in general does. If you don't love what you do, then stop doing it because life is too damn short. But if you do love it and need it, then you owe it to yourself to damn the torpedoes, storm the barn and keep creating.

Comic Book Heroes & Movie Dreams

I've always had a weird relationship with comic books. The only one I ever cared about when I was little was this issue of Ren & Stimpy, since I was completely obsessed with the show. (To this day, I still refer to Ren Hoek as one of my totem animals and a have a weakness for shivery little dogs with bad attitudes. Oh, and Billy West.) As I got into my late teens, I discovered Neil Gaiman's “Sandman” comics, thanks to some hip friends, and really enjoyed that. My college years were littered with interests in the old underground comics (including landing a repro of an old issue of “Zapp”), the uber-fantastic Dame Darcy and Daniel Clowes. (Again, the last two all thanks to having some friends with good taste.) At one point, I even worked at a comic book store, were I was more immersed in the world of superheroes and skin-tight suits than, say, the alt-comics of “Love & Rockets” and Jhonen Vasquez.

The job, due to non-comic book reasons, was horrible, but it was interesting to get a close up view of the culture around it. It was a mixture of stereotypes (right down to guys who didn't know how to react to me due to the whole being a girl-thing) to smart, pseudo-punk rock types. (Including one guy that tried to best my knowledge about Glen Matlock. It didn't go well....for him.) Jeweled-toned covers featuring jocular uber-mensch and tiny waisted heroines with breasts that would make Russ Meyer faint soon became a part of my daily periphery. This surreal world was something that would become more of my life later on, as I became friends with people that were huge comics fans, including one of my best friends, an ex-boyfriend and my husband, Chuck, who has been into comics off and on for years and years. (Naturally, he has the best taste of them all!)

With all of that, I'm still not a huge fan of the superhero comic world. It's nothing personal and in fact, I would liken it to the band Tool. I respect them, completely understand the appeal but I am not personally wooed. I don't mind it being in my presence but do not be offended if I am secretly pining for some Hernandez Brothers and Peter Murphy on the stereo. There are, of course, exceptions and I'm a firm believer in not shutting yourself off to one genre or the other. You never know what you will miss. For example, I love “Watchmen” more than Chuck Berry loves traumatizing groupies and in fact, would easily put the film version in my top 10 favorites list. Alan Moore is a genius and not only that, he's my favorite kind of genius--the cranky type.

Now with all of the hype and hoopla surrounding the 2012 film, “The Avengers,” I think it is high time for me to pitch out to the world my own personal superhero film. We are talking a film so cataclysmic in its assemblage, so epic in scale that it will make tires explode and noses bleed. So here it is, my veritable dream-team of superheroes. Plot? It's not important since with a cast like this, all you need to do is simply bask in the brilliance and watch the screen crack and sizzle.

Without further ado...

1. Commander USA. 
   
   
   

 2. Rorschach & The Comedian

3.Yoshi

4. Jon Mikl Thor (aka the only TRUE Thor)

5.Captain Invincible

6. Captain Berlin

7. Vlad the Impaler

8. Lemmy

9. Dali

 10. William Howard Taft

 

Looking at that list, it looks a bit like “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” meets cirrhosis of the brain. Well, to quote that old chestnut....I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than have to have a frontal lobotomy. Sure, the resulting film might be technically horrible, but it would be so captivatingly bad that it becomes brilliant. Let this stew as you go pay for overpriced popcorn and sit through 80 commercials just to get to the trailers. 

Copyright 2012 Heather Drain