Yep. I’m still out here. Still struggling… but any spare time I’ve had for writing has been eaten up by freelance copy stuff… such deep meaningful profundity as
“Company X is your full service provider for the insert industry here field!”
And, of course:
“Company X has the solution to your problem. Click HERE for more.”
Still, it brings home the groceries, and it keeps my wrists nimble and my fingers full of tensile strength (That’s what she said!).
Here’s a little treat – another one from the vaults. My Liner notes for Scott Phillips’ amazing little gem of genre filmmaking – GIMME SKELTER – which can still be purchased from Amazon.Com at this link hyah
Click on through to the other side to check it out, little babies!
If you can’t make it out from the pic, here’s the original notes, which were minimally edited to fit on the back of the DVD.
Needless to say, I was excited to see what would come of GIMME SKELTER, Phillips’ take on the Manson Family and the more smoothly dangerous Drive-In films of the 70’s. I was not disappointed. Herein lies the indie film equivalent of the kind of subversive, sexy and richly detailed album rock that made The Rolling Stones into legend, Jim Morrison a preening peacock Messiah, and gave Charles Manson the hypnotists wheel with which he stumbled his way into history. Where STINK laid out the sexual dysfunction and moral flexibility caused by the total destruction of civilization, SKELTER takes us on a voyeuristic peep show tour of the depravity of sexually and philosophically frustrated Americana in the face of pure rock n’ roll devilry. Just like the fusion of Stones and Beatles that makes up the title – this is a movie that rocks you to your Johnson and keeps playing in your dreams long after the music’s over. I mean, where else are you going to see Gunnar Hansen beat the shazbot out of the Mexican wildcat, Kurly Tlapoyawa? Where else will you see milk-fed cheerleaders, killer strippers, a guy with a shovel-mark in his head and a former Miss Teen USA in the same fucking movie? NOWHERE. That’s fucking where.
With a rollicking soundtrack of original tunes from some of the best indie bands around – including bloodgrass legends Angry Johnny & The Killbillies, California’s slithering desert kings – Spindrift (who supply the unforgettable tune for the opening credit sequence) and the queen of undead-50’s retro-ska rock – Zombina and the Skeletones – GIMME SKELTER ranks with a rarefied group of flicks that play as an album, just as well as it plays as a film. It’s a death-defying, blood-and-soul-soaked jewel of independent filmmaking that, not only deserves to be seen, but is destined to become a true cult classic. You need to watch this fucking movie… right now… if not for the wild, rampaging, primal entertainment of it, then to save your very soul from the torture of what Hollywood has been giving you in little baby-spoon dollops. This is pulp. This is raw. This is ‘the family business’, and business… it’s good, baby. So climb on up, Mr. Mojo Risin’. Get on the bus. Get your ya-ya’s out and dig the fuckin’ trip, man.
It’s time to GIMME SKELTER.
And check out my review and interviews related to the flick on Eyecrave.Net
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