Showbiz
or
Screw This Noise, I'm Running To Hollywood

As anyone who has frequented my blog can tell, a few months in my life is a very long time. Mountains crumble. The entire surface of my daily landscape erupts, liquefies, and hardens into something unrecognizable.

I'm a creature of violent change. As always, my writing drops off like a frayed piece of twine, pulled too taught by the tectonic forces surrounding it. Forgive my silence.

Everything has changed.

My fiance, Greg, and I are no longer engaged. In fact, we don't even speak to each other. I left his domicile in Saint Louis on December 6th, 2010. Anyone who so much as utters his name will have their nipples torn off with red-hot iron pincers, and the raw wounds remaining shall be filled with rock salt and sewn shut with uncured pig-gut. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

I'm like, over it, and stuff. Promise.

I no longer live in Las Vegas. One day, I simply packed up my things and left. I left my roommate of 5 years (Arturo), my cats (with him), and most of my worldly goods behind. I took only what I could carry, and drove off into the desert for Hollywood.

Not for fame, gentle readers. I'm not a fool. But perhaps for fortune, should she favor me.

I moved in with a friend who lives in Hollywood, a mere walk from the boulevard. We have a pleasant apartment big enough for the two of us, with cafes and shops nearby. He is kind to me, and we share an excellent friendship and working relationship. Together, we're producing his first feature film. (You can find out more about it here.)

For work, I've been freelance modeling. Don't laugh. I'm actually pretty good at it.

There are things I miss about Las Vegas, but I couldn't stay there. The city and it's horrible inhabitants were killing me. Moving to Los Angeles is the best thing I've ever done for myself.

More updates will follow, but I figured it was 'bout time I brought this picture up to speed.

Memoirs of a Robogeisha
or
Rectal Exsanguination

B-movies, gentle reader, make life worth living. There is no room for debate on the subject. If you don't agree with me, then I have no idea why you're still reading my blog.

The latest installment in Judas Phoenix Science Theater 3000 is a tale of sibling rivalry, the search for self-identity in a post-humanist cyborgian world, traditional Japanese arts, and mindless slaughter - all topped off with a heaping, gooey dose of sexploitation. Thanks to director Noboru Iguchi, I can satisfy every aspect of my "so-bad-it's-good" movie craving in one straight shot to the lizard brain.

Writing a general summary is boring, so if you really care about the general "plot" of this glorious piece of trash, feel free to read this paragraph stolen from IMDB:
Yoshie, the younger and ill-treated sister of a renowned Geisha, is discovered to have natural strength and fighting ability. She's recruited into an army of Geisha assassins by the rich and powerful owner of a steel-works, Kageno. During training large (and interesting) parts of their bodies are altered into weaponry directly linked to their brains. Yoshie soon realizes that Kagenos real plan is to have his robotic castle throw a new and very powerful nuclear bomb into the centre of Fuji-san, effectively destroying Japan entirely. With the help of other 'Kageno defectors', she sets out to stop him and his Tengu warriors.

Sounds pretty dry, no? In all truth, I'm impressed that anyone could make Robogeisha sound so coherent.

But we don't watch these things for riveting story lines, do we, gentle readers? No! Never, I say! We watch them because they're hilarious. We watch them for the shitty special effects, pulpy dialogue, and tits 'n ass. We watch them because they don't take themselves seriously.

Without further ado, I present some screenshots for your enjoyment:


Here's the Tengu warriors terrorizing a Japanese businessman:

I suppose that explains the angry, red dick-noses.

Those dick-tits aren't just for show. They mean business.

Defacing a nurse. Just because.

Our heroine prepares to strike at her sister.

Or maybe the sister is about to take a smack at our Heroine? They look so much alike, I couldn't tell for most of the movie who was who. WHAT? I'm not being racist. It's the pancake geishaface makeup. Geeze.

Ah, sibling rivalry. Big Sis gets a boob-gun . . .

Behold, the birth of a new fetish. A nation wanks . . . uh weeps. Weeps.

. . . so Little Sis has to get arm-pit swords . . .

Her pits shave themselves.

. . . and then Big Sis gets her head rewired . . .

I smell turquoise in here. 'Scuse me Mr. Nice Man, have you seen my mommy?
OH GOD, I CAN'T REMEMBER MY DOG'S NAAAAAAAAME!

. . . which means Little Sis has to turn into a tank . . .

No shit!

. . . everybody decides to get buttswords . . .

I'm going to invest in buttsword futures now, before buttfencing
becomes the national sport of Japan.

A schoolgirl also gets a sword in the butt. Not quite the same thing.

. . . asshurikens . . .



. . . and you know what they say: it's all fun and games, until someone gets a shrimp in the eye.


I know what you're thinking. Where's the guy in a monster suit, lumbering around a pint-sized mock-up of Tokyo? Here you go. A castle robot. This is a new one for me, too, and that's saying something.

Japanese skyscrapers have circulatory systems. No wonder their manufacturing
industry surpasses ours. BUY AMERICAN BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Looks like a lot of fun, huh?

I give it an 8/10 for the genre. Go see Robogeisha. It's Japanese - so you know it's good!

They Don't Really Have 100 Legs
or
Scheiße!

I'm a huge fan of horror films - especially foreign ones. Sure, we Americans have a dozen splatter and "torture porn" flicks to choose from in any given year. You can't beat the USA for volume. (How many Saw sequels have they made now?) However, when it comes to films so abhorrent and deranged, they induce a sensation of mindrape that leaves the viewer trembling for hours, I can think of a few cultures that churn out better material than we do. Anyone who has seen Audition or Oldboy will agree with me.

We can add the Dutch to that list now. They've officially earned a permanent place in the Fucked-Up Hall of Fame.

The Human Centipede is written and directed by Dutch filmmaker Tom Six. It is easily the most repulsive piece of cinema I've ever encountered. For that, I respect and congratulate the man.

Critics, of course, don't know what to make of the film. Roger Ebert even went so far as to give it ZERO STARS. Not because he hated it, but because its excruciating depiction of Sadism and suffering transcended his rating system: "I am required to award stars to movies I review. This time, I refuse to do it. The star rating system is unsuited to this film. Is the movie good? Is it bad? Does it matter? It is what it is and occupies a world where the stars don't shine."

Mr. Ebert does a far better job reviewing the film than I can. This post is merely to express my approval, and increase awareness that such a movie exists.

I highly recommend this film to any horror fan for whom the old tropes have worn thin and copious blood 'n guts fails to impress. Do not venture into this film lightly. The Human Centipede is serious shock cinema. It's not "so bad, it's good" or "so over the top, it's funny." You've been warned.

I will only add that Dieter Laser is now one of my top five favorite actors of all time. I've never seen a malevolent pervert played so pitch perfectly. Mr. Laser commits to the role, and doesn't let up for a second. To remember his performance, 24 hours later, still makes the hackles raise on the back of my neck. It's seriously scary stuff, kids!

Oh, and despite the nauseating surgical/scatological premise, a surprising amount of grue is left to the viewer's imagination. That's mighty clever filming. I would not, however, call it an act of mercy towards the audience. Tom Six knows that you and I will fill in the visual blanks FAR more distastefully than he, the director, ever could.

I, for one, love this film. It is the ONLY film to date to make me lose my appetite while watching
it. I'm serious, guys. I couldn't eat my dinner. And it wasn't even something like chunky beef stew, or pasta marinara! It was a green salad, for christsake.

If you think you can handle it, watch it.