flora dora

So here's my take. Francis Coppola decides to film a Vietnam War film. Using the 19th century tome 'The Heart of Darkness' and the subsequent pre-code 1932 film 'Kongo' as his frame work. Brando's mad Col. Kurtz (the same name as the protagonist in Heart of Darkness) is seen as a living god by the local natives while holed up in his remote jungle redoubt, calling to mind Walter Huston's character of 'Flint' doing the same thing in Kongo, only in Africa. Brando plays it in a brooding understated style similar to Lon Chaney in the original Tod Browning silent version, West of Zanzibar. Coppola however, films these scenes in the dark sweaty grimey claustrophobic style of William Cowan's 1932 Kongo remake. Martin Sheen is the equivalent of Kingsland, played by Conrad Nagel, the wayward drug addled Doctor who stumbles into the Jungle compound where Water Huston's tyrannical character Flint controls all comings and goings. Jeremy Bottoms California surfer character, 'Lance' is equivalent to Kongo's Virginia Bruce, her victimized character 'Ann' whom Kingsland aids in getting out of Flint's jungle nightmare world. This comparison is made due to the last scene with Martin Sheen's character taking the drug addled surfer/soldier, Lance by-the-hand and leading him back out of the jungle compound following his execution of Col. Kurtz. As with Dr. Kingsland and Ann Whitehall in Kongo, the film ends with Capt. Willard and PFC Lance surfer together alone drifting down the river contemplating what the future holds. Although the Lance character disappears from the film for a while, so I guess in that regard he could equally be seen as Lupe Velez's 'Tula' character in Kongo. It was also pretty cool getting to see a young Laurence Fishbourne in the role of a ghetto kid from New York City turned overly enthusiastic P/T Boat gunner seven years before his unforgettable character study of Cowboy Curtis (Kurtz?) on the surrealistic Saturday morning children's show ( watched mostly by young adult stoners) Pee Wee's Playhouse. Apocalypse Now is an engrossing film, although somewhat bombastic and with several preposterous situations portrayed - surfing on the Mekong Delta!? I like the film, although the much more modest Vietnam War film 'Go tell the Spartans' starring Burt Lancaster and released just prior to Apocalypse Now still remains my sentimental favorite.

The true tragedy remaining unresolved in this particularly gripping account of amoral, almost pre-code Depression-era style of film is a single, unshakable haunting truth. Private Investigator Jake Gittes, despite being shot at, physically assaulted to the point of almost losing his nose and generally all-around just betrayed by everyone around him suffers the ultimate indignity. It's the little matter of the bill. Not only does he not collect on his investigative fee, to say nothing of a promised bonus after wealthy client Evelyn Mulwray - captivatingly portrayed by Faye Dunaway- ends up stylishly dead in a hail of gunfire behind the wheel of a vintage collectable automobile. Faye Dunaway being really good at that. But you just know the enterprising private investigator was stiffed on his promised fee by his other astronomically wealthy client, Noah Cross. Played with remarkable understated predation by the late Director/Actor John Huston. He brings a unredeemable quality to the character that conveys moral decay in his annunciation alone. Someone whos inner soul is arid and barren as a desert. If not being paid after all he went through wasn't bad enough, he went and promised an earlier client, 'Curly' $75 and forgave his outstanding debt for prior investigative services provided. Seventy five bucks would sure go along way in depression-era Los Angeles. The whole subplot involving the true lineage of the enigmatic Katherine Mulwray calls neatly to mind the 1932 pre-code film, 'Kongo' starring John Huston's father Walter Huston. Playing 'Flint' the oily ivory dealer, who in an act of obsessive revenge, lures an innocent-in-the-ways-of-the-world young girl, played by Virginia Bruce, he thinks to be the illegitimate offspring of his rival ivory trader -"the man who sneered!"- away from a convent and into the seamy underbelly of Zanzibar's houses-of-ill-repute. Pretty neat turn around. After all this, it was straight to the booby hatch.

Seeing the stylishly suave Robert Quarry stroking the ivories resplendent in bejeweled crimson and black evening wear as the Vampire Count patiently awaiting the arrival of his doomed quarry (!) had my imagination reeling. What if instead of Robert Quarry, they had cast the flamboyant pianist Liberace in the vampire role?

In 1973 New Zealander Richard O'Brien conceived of the live Rock Opera stage-play Rocky Horror. It did a pretty decent take of encapsulating the then short-lived androgynous Glitter Rock music scene. Enjoying a successful run on-stage in London before playing to packed houses on L.A.'s Sunset Strip at Lou Adler's new Roxy Theatre..or was it the Rainbow Bar and Grill..the Whisky AU Go Go? I dunno. I know that it wasn't at Rodney Bigenheimer's English Disco where the likes of Iggy Pop, Alice Cooper and Kim Fowley hung out. Lou Adler would then partner with Richard O'Brien to develop it into the 1975 film, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, that would initially flop at the box office. However, when repurposed as a midnight movie it would over time grow into a cultural phenom. After watching 1974's The Phantom of The Paradise, I have to believe Brian De Palma was in the audience for at least one of those live staged L.A. Rocky Horror performances. Unfortunately, when it came time to collaborate on songs he didn't go with someone like Lou Adler or better still, Kim Fowley. Who beside his personal faults - which he made no bones about - was a pretty decent Rock -N- Roll songwriter, contributing songs like Department of Youth for Alice Cooper, and Flaming Youth for KISS. He was also someone who was well in tune with the waning Glitter Rock scene of 1974 L.A. Heck, Kim Fowley was still troping on the Glitter Rock aesthetic as late as 1979! Paul William's on-screen performance is solid. You want someone who can play a bipedal, talking Orangutan or write a commercial jingle that can later be repurposed into an inoffensive, middle-of-the-road easy listening adult contemporary radio hit - he's your guy. He manages to portray a keen passive sinister malevolence here. But as a composer of contemporary Rock-N-Roll...forget it. Definitely a miscall on De Palma's part. I ask you, how on earth can you conceive of a film that is based on the visual trappings of early '70's Glam Rock and not hear a single chugging Chuck Berry barre chord or Bo Diddley shuffle guitar riff for the entire film?!! Where would the careers of producer Mike Chapman (The Sweet, Mudd, Suzi Quatro) or Marc Bolan (T Rex) have been back-then without the shuffle style Bo Diddley guitar riff or chugging barre chord? True, Mike Chapman would have still had Blondie, but you get my point. Not even a single squiggly sounding synthesizer or farfisa organ vamp to be heard anywhere?! Before Brian De Palma cast her as an autistic, bullied outcast high school girl with telekinetic powers, Sissy Spacek was responsible for movie set decoration. On this point, I thought she succeeded in capturing the garish, over-the-top visual excess of the time. Although Bay-area band The Tubes with singer Fey Waybill as Glitter Rock alter-ego, Quay Lude summed up the whole excessive decadence of 1974 L.A. much more succinctly in their excellent 1975 Rock-N-Roll vignette, 'White Punks On Dope.'

The only thing that could have made this movie anymore monumental for someone like myself - turning onto KISS as a preteen in the mid 1970's - was if the band would have $omehow been able to rope iconoclastic British filmmaker Ken Russell into writing and directing this movie. It could have been the greatest acid trip movie of all time! Reading my quarterly KISS Army newsletter I first read about this project at the age of thirteen at the peak of my KISS fanaticism. So I was really psyched up to see this chance to see KISS on television for maybe over a solid hour! Trouble was, that the promised movie was long delayed into making it to television. By the time it made it's network premiere I was now a fifteen year old in high school and my KISS fandom was seriously waning by then. The results for me from viewing this movie, were that my next album purchase was a 'best of' collection called "We Sold Our Souls For Rock-N-Roll" by Black Sabbath. The next two albums were by new groups. One was called "Never Mind The Bollocks Here's the Sex Pistols" and a debut album from some new southern California band called Van Halen. Also for the one and only time in my life I actually burned one of my record albums. The 1978 solo album by Paul Stanley. Not because it was bad, but as a protest against the band for making this awful movie. (There was no way I was gonna burn my copy of Alive! or even, say Love Gun) In retrospect, I suppose this movie was supposed to be a - fittingly enough - cartoonish "kiddie friendly" movie to recruit in the grade school set. KISS then spent the next couple of years appearing on shows like,"Kids Are people Too" and performing while wearing ridiculous looking floor length capes at a Post-Disco time when sparse sharp guitars and farfisa organs made a comeback and white dress shirts and skinny ties were the deriguour.