DVD Review: Leonard Cohen – The Live Broadcast Sessions 1985-1993

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2017

Images from the Internet

Leonard Cohen: The Live Broadcast Sessions 1985-1993

Go Faster Records / MVD Visual

118 minutes, 2016

www.mvdvisual.com

When Leonard Cohen died in November 2016, he was a Canadian, certified Zen monk and orthodox Jew who often sang songs using Christian symbolism, and he left the world a better place. There are many who call him “Canada’s Bob Dylan,” but honestly I would say it was the other way around, and Dylan was “American’s Cohen,” even though Dylan achieved fame first. Sure, Dylan has a way with words, and he’s now won a Nobel Prize for his songs/poetry, but if there was any justice, Cohen’s poems would be more recognized as they were more striking, lyrical and, structured. Dylan likes to rhyme lots of words together, but Cohen built his words into a tower of song, if you will.

However, one thing they definitely have in common is that their voices could be considered less than – err – culturally standard. Dylan’s is generally high and whiney, where Cohen’s is a low rumble, like a storm coming over the horizon.

I came to be a Cohen fan late, after his seminal Various Positions LP (1984), still my favorite set of his tunes, perhaps rivaled only by his Best of collection. I feel extremely lucky to have had the chance to see him perform live a couple of years ago, during his final tour. Sure I sat towards the rear, and yet it was a magical evening.

For this DVD, they compiled some live footage from European television during three tours. Being the day of VHS (or most likely PAL), the images have been significantly cleaned up (or taken from the master tape), though are still a bit grainy – though better than the clip below – but the sound is clear.

The first four cuts are from June 1985, at the Kalvøyafestivalen (Kalvoya Island Festival), in Sandvika, Norway. The 26-minute section starts off with a doo-wop tune (of all things) called “Memories,” from Death of a Ladies Man (1977). On stage, he is smoking a cigarette, puffing during the musical interludes of the songs. The last few albums were nearly whispered, and I wonder how much of that had to do with his heavy leaning on ciggy-butts at that time, because while his voice may not be the prettiest, he has some strong lung power and hits some notes at full volume. Also interesting is how he uses 1950s wrappings to discuss the possibilities of seeing his date’s naked body, or vice versa. “Heart With No Companion” is from Various Positions, a country-tinged tune (there is more than one on this release), mixed with a militaristic marching rhythm. It’s a tricky song because the verbiage sounds negative (e.g., “I sing this for the captain, whose ship has not been built”), but it’s actually about sending love to those who are suffering.

“The Story of Isaac” is from 1969’s Songs From a Room. It tells the Old Testament story of Abraham taking his son up the mountain to sacrifice to the new God to prove his devotion, but it’s taken from the perspective of the young Isaac. The set ends here, and Cohen leaves the stage to come back for the encore, with the apt “I Tried to Leave You,” from New Skin For the Old Ceremony, in 1974. Thematically it’s similar to Paul Simon’s “Overs,” in that the topic is the failure of a relationship breakup. This song goes on for a meandering 10 minutes as Cohen riffs commentary while introducing the band. Honestly, I was getting impatient after about the halfway point of the intros.

The second set, from May 1988, was also recorded in Norway, this time at the Oslo Konserthus (Oslo Concert House). This section is 50 minutes long, but also intersperses short interview segments; more on that later. This was aired as a complete program titled “Take This Waltz,” and it is shown here complete, including the full end credits, I’m happy to say.

The first cut is the powerful and heavily orchestrated “First We Take Manhattan,” a nice way to start off. It comes from the 1988 I’m Your Man record. The band here is tight, and the two women doing the background vocals are killer synced. This is one of the weirder songs in Cohen’s canon, as it is more opaque than most of his others as far as figuring out just what the significance is, and it has been discussed many times. It’s a great one and oft quotes (well, paraphrased), but I still don’t know what “First we take Manhattan / Then we take Berlin” means.

It’s also worth noting the stark difference between the previous 1985 show and this one. Only three years later and there is a cognitive shift going on. The first is still in the tail end of Cohen’s folk-singer-songwriter phase, but this is a turning point into full tilt mode. He’s mostly put down the guitar and began in earnest his trademark way to grasping the microphone cord; his look is also more stylized (which he would keep to the end, though no hat yet) including the loss of his trademark 5 o’clock shadow; his sound is more honed and pre-arranged, and his use of a wider orchestration is in play.

This is even true with some of the older songs, such as the next, “Joan of Arc,” from 1971’s Songs of Love and Hate. Here we are presented with an imagined conversation between Joan and the fire that would envelop her. It’s a brilliant piece that I’ve always liked from the first time I heard it. Here he shares the vocals ably with Julie Christensen (of the California alt-country punk band, The Divine Horsemen!), supported by Perla Batella. It’s an odd love song followed by one of an extreme level of lust, “I’m Your Man,” the title track off the 1988 album. Parts of it have the lyrical tone of Tom Lehrer’s “Masochism Tango,” or a list of possibilities like the Temptation’s “Can’t Get Next to You,” but with Cohen’s basso slow burn in sharps and flats with his patterned growl, it’s way more sensual.

Actually, it makes sense that this would be followed by “Ain’t No Cure for Love,” also from I’m Your Man. If I may digress for a second, between each songs are interviews by Vera Kvaal, who hosted the “TopPop” show at the time, from which I believe this was taken. Cohen discusses his writing, his mother, and his life, among topics. While it’s all very interesting, it kind of takes away from the music. For some songs that’s literally true because we only get to see an excerpts, starting while the song is in progress after the interview clip, and then it cuts away a few times after during the tune. Let me say, sighhhh.

Next, since he’s doing love songs, it’s time for an anti-love one, so he picks up his acoustic black Gibson tell does “Chelsea Hotel #2,” from New Skin…, which is about his brief fling with Janis Joplin. It’s a slow, explicit ballad that is touching and sad, like Harry Chapin’s “Taxi,” of a love that never grew beyond the physical. It’s full of remorse and nostalgia.

For the first of two times on the DVD, is his most covered song, “Hallelujah,” from Various Positions. While it’s a great number, for me it’s overplayed to the point where I’m getting a bit weary of it, when played by another than Cohen, surprisingly. Here, though, they only show part of what’s known as the “profane” version of the lyrics. This is followed by the quasi-doo-wop influenced paean to music, “Tower of Song,” from the I’m Your Man collection. With just the vocal back-up and Cohen on Technics electric piano with a pre-set rhythm keeping time, he gives us a love song not to a person, but to what he’s given his soul (music). Well, that’s how I interpret the lyrics, with music being anthropomorphic in a similar way as Chuck Berry did with a car in “Maybellene.” He finishes this segment with “Take This Waltz,” again from I’m Your Man.

The final 43-minute grouping is from May 1993, recorded at the Palau Municipal d’Esports, in Barcelona, Spain. It starts off strong with one of his then-later songs, “Closing Time,” off of his 1992 album, The Future. Again, this is a complete program that aired on Spanish television that they titled after his opening tune. It says something about the man that nearly 10 years later, he is still being backed vocally by Christensen and Batella. As for Cohen, his hair if definitely graying but his voice is still holding strong, with perhaps a bit more bass to it.

While the previous two shows were visually cleaned up digitally, here you can see a bit of the noise of the PAL transfer as lines will occasionally break out here and there. It’s definitely a fuzzier image than the earlier clips, but it’s also pretty clear relatively, especially when the lights are their brightest. Plus all the songs are captioned in Spanish, and the sound is still great.

Next up is the whispy and whispery “The Sisters of Mercy,” from Cohen’s first album, Songs of Leonard Cohen, in 1967. A tribute to prostitutes, I found the original recorded song a bit “tinny” on the vocals, but here they are quite a bit smoother as his voice has aged. The next tune is also a ballad, from I’m You’re Man, “I Can’t Forget.”

This time when we hear “Hallelujah,” we get most of the song without interruption, in all its (if you’ll pardon the pun) glory. It starts a couple of stanzas in, with “Baby, I’ve been here before…” and I don’t understand why they don’t just play the whole (again the pun) damn thing. His voice definitely has more growl on the powerful parts. Following is the repeated, lovely “I Tried to Leave You.” And again, it’s a long version, as Cohen introduced the band as each member plays a solo.

The final cut is “Democracy,” from The Future. This is a sarcastically timely song at the moment, especially since his death the day before the American election, as the line “Democracy is coming to the USA.” We can only hope that it will return soon, but I digress. This is one of the more powerful songs from his later period, in my opinion, so it is a good choice to close out the collection.

Leonard Cohen is sorely missed. I can honestly say that we own every one of his records (in various forms), though there are some I know better than others. If you are curious to know what you are missing, this is a nice collection through his work (well, until 1992, or course) to give you some idea of why he is mourned so deeply by so many. His death has definitely been a crack in our musical history, but a DVD like this is how the light gets in. RIP, Leonard, and thank you.

1985 Set List:

Memories

Heart With No Companion

Story of Isaac

I Tried to Leave You

1988 Set List:

First We Take Manhattan

Joan of Arc

I’m Your Man

Ain’t No Cure For Love (excerpt)

Chelsea Hotel #2

Hallelujah

Tower of Song

Take This Waltz

1993 Set List:

Closing Time

Sisters of Mercy

I Can’t Forget

Hallelujah

I Tried to Leave You

Democracy

From the 1988 set in Norway:

DVD Review: Steve Hackett – The Man, the Music

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Steve Hackett: The Man, the Music

Filmed, directed and edited by Matt Groom

Weinerworld Entertainment / MVD Visual

143 Minutes, 2015

www.weinerworld.com

www.mvdvisual.com

This may open up the Dogs of War, but I find the progressive rock music genre (aka prog) kinda… well, I respect that the musicians can play reaaaaaally well, but when it’s all put together, I have to say it bores the crap out of me. That’s why I stopped playing the radio in the early ’70s other than oldies and the news, and from the first time I heard the Ramones, listened only to vinyl for a large number of years. Even today, it’s mostly talk radio for me (go John Montone and 1010WINS!).

So when I was given the opportunity to review a documentary about prog guitarist Steve Hackett, well, my enthusiasm was…mellow. Genesis, the band that he helped make famous, never played a song that stuck with me, and I could barely tell you one off the top of my head. Of course, the same is true with many other proggers, like ELP, Yes, (post-Syd Barrett) Pink Floyd, and so on. I lost patience with them very fast.

But an important thing about writing about music is not necessarily keeping an open mind about other genres, but being willing to step into another genre and experience it despite that, which is how we grow. I once told an 8-year-old who had very specific food she would eat (essentially, she would always order pizza or chicken fingers at restaurants) to always try things she didn’t like occasionally, because you never know when things can change. I live by that, in all aspects of my life. For example, growing up I was not much of a fan of soul, until the early ‘80s when I saw a VHS tape of Bill Withers doing a live version of “Ain’t No Sunshine,” and it blew me away. On the way to work this morning, I was listening to James Brown’s “Open Up the Door (I’ll Get It Myself).” In other words, I approached the DVD documentary about the guitarist cautiously, but as open as I could, honestly hoping for the best.

Amusingly, Hackett was only in Genesis from 1970 to 1975 (not counting numerous reunion shows), and was also in the brief GTR. He has had a long string of solo releases, blending classical, prog (i.e., pretentious classical) and other forms of world music. This later phase interested me more, honestly.

I’m glad this is more a history than just performance, because I was definitely interested in him in a zeitgeist way rather than just seeing him play for an extended period, i.e., I wanted to know about the “musician” more than the “music,” to start.

The documentary begins with the beginning (a very good place to start), namely his childhood (born in 1950), and even has an interview bit with his mum. His love of Mario Lanza being a pre-Elvis influence is listed on a few sites, so this was no surprise (and no clips of the amazing Lanza, which is neither extraordinary nor expected). Part of this early period is discussed with his third wife, writer Jo Lehmann (listed as Jo Hackett here), and his brother.

There is quite a bit of detail given. I am glad to get some background on the guy, and I’m certain that there are the fanatical guitar fans that will drink up every word, but I believe that the sheer level of detail is if not overwhelming than more than I want to know. For example, it’s nice to have some childhood background, but it’s not that important to warrant this amount of time. And I will illustrate with this anecdote of my own, if you’re willing:

I went with a group of media-focused academics to visit Marshall McLuhan’s childhood home. They were all ooh-ing and ahh-ing all over the place. I asked the women who now owns it what was still there when McLuhan was present. Apparently it was a hallway light and a fixture upstairs in the bathroom (if I remember correctly). Then I asked how old he was, and it was pre-5 years old. So what brilliant thoughts did McLuhan have at that age, in a space that doesn’t represent hardly anything at all when he was there? I was baffled by that.

It’s a rookie mistake, I believe, when a documentary, biography or autobiography delves too deeply into a subject’s childhood. Really, it reflects, but it doesn’t warrant a vast amount of detail. As it is, this film is well over two hours. The time saved here alone would have been valuable; hell, they could have made the extreme close-up of any period an extra in the deleted scenes, and that would have been good. Of course, the beginning of his musicianship is spot on for being here, such as learning the harmonica and guitar (from his dad), including going from steel strings to nylon (a clip of him playing Spanish guitar) and back to electric steel.

For me, it starts to take off at around the 20-minute mark, when we see clips of the Steve Hackett Band on stage, and some interviews with band members; the start of his playing with Genesis begins at 40 minutes. Even at this point, it’s pretty obvious that the whole she-bang is a bit long-winded for the average viewer who is not either Genesis or Hackett superfans. This film could easily have an hour cut out of it as it rabbits on, way past the point of interest on my part. What he’s saying in each segment is interesting, but it just goes on too long.

There are snippets of music played throughout the film, including techniques he uses, most of which are Hackett playing directly for the camera, which is interesting. Also shown are some recent live clips of the Steve Hackett Band, but there isn’t much of the older material played other than short snips more for example in the background while talking by him and/or others, and nearly always the pieces he wrote rather than just played on (assuming for copyright purposes).

Yeah, the man can play, I have no doubt about that, and he gives examples of it as I said, but for me it’s more the context of what he is playing rather than method. For example, I believe Christina Aguilera and Mariah Carey have amazing voices, but I do not enjoy listening to their warbling style. When he’s playing classical or Spanish styles, cool; when he delves into the prog style, my mind kept checking out and I really wanted to fast forward a bit.

Even though Hackett is best known as a member of Genesis, especially in North America, as I said he was actually only in it a very short time in his decades-long career. Not surprisingly though, a large second act is dedicated to his experience. Still, there is a lot of touching down in different aspects of the career path, or set pieces on styles, historical moments, songwriting, and more, each part announced with chapter titles. His Andres Segovia (d. 1987) tribute moments especially are sweet.

The film is obviously shot on HD video, and looks like it, which will probably really help with the Blu-Ray, if that is (or becomes) available. Most people shoot on digital and then doctor it look like film, but it’s nice that Groom goes with the reality look rather than with artistic effect (I ask with a bemused sarcasm, arguably the opposite of prog?).

There are lots of interviews, as well as the multitude of Hackett talking (which makes up the majority of the time), including his bandmates, Porcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson, his long-time producer Roger King, and Chris Squire (d. 2015), the bassist of the prognoxious Yes (with whom Hackett played on Squire’s solo releases). The extra is a 10:48 extended conversation with Hackett and Squire.

Again, if you’re interested in Hackett, who seems like a genuinely nice guy, this will definitely satiate your curiosity.

DVD Review: Going Underground – Paul McCartney, the Beatles and the UK Counter-culture

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Going Underground: Paul McCartney, the Beatles and the UK Counter-culture

Written and directed by Tom O’Dell

Narrated by Thomas Arnold

Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media

153 minutes, 2013

www.prismfilms.co.uk

www.chromedreams.co.uk

www.mvdvisual.com

There were many counter-cultures (aka the peace movement and hippies) in the 1960s, and in fact, more than one in the United States. The one in San Francisco was different than the one in Los Angeles, and both were dissimilar to those in New York or Chicago. Up north, Vancouver was the Canadian center (or in this case centre), but there was also one in Toronto and Montreal. Every major city had their own, yet ironically, many people left to find someone else’s, moving across the country to the other centers, especially SF and NYC.

What most of the scenes had in common, though, were LSD and the Beatles, especially after Magical Mystery Tour and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Their effect was so extreme, that I posit that the later album killed rock and roll as a driving musical force (until the Ramones), and became, rather, secondary to the emergence of Rock. But I digress...

But even the Beatles had to be influenced by it somewhere; it certainly didn’t emerge out of Bluebird Way. This documentary starts in the 1950s, examining the roots of the counter-culture movement, beginning with the anti-nuclear proliferation (dis)organization, which was also focused on peace / end of war / end of nuclear armament.

Step-by-step, and in great detail, as this British film lasts for 2-1/2 hours, posits that jazz (e.g., Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor) and then beat poetry made their way from the States and were adopted – then adapted – by the British, leading to a bookstore that would become the locus of the avant-garde music scene. Its name was Indica, named after a form of cannabis plant. No surprise there, eh wot? The store was owned, in part, by Peter Asher. In 1966, it would have its own newspaper / newsletter / fanzine called the International Times (aka IT, or sometimes it)

Where the Beatles come into it is essentially through the bastions of rebellion in England, the Art Schools. Radical art leads to radical thoughts, and vice-versa. This is not a tradition followed in the West, where art in schools is somewhere behind Sports, English, and Study Hall. For Paul McCartney, he was heavily influenced in things underground by his girlfriend’s family. Jane Asher’s brother was the same Peter who co-founded Indica, and who was also in the duo Peter and Gordon, whose song “World Without Love” was both written and produced by McCartney.

The Ashers also introduced Paulie to the music of John Cage, which would later influence his song, “A Day in the Life.” Further, it was his producer George Martin who would call Paul’s attention to electronic music and atonal sounds, such as those by Karl Stockhausen (who, is my guess, also had an influential hand in the Velvet Underground’s sounds, such as with “European Son”).  

The final bit to the puzzle of Paul, who would become a de facto silent partner to the movement, was Timothy Leary and his introduction of LSD to the world. No, he didn’t invent the stuff, but he promoted it brilliantly (“turn on, tune in, drop out”). John Lennon, of course, was also right behind, and with the help of reading Nietzsche, and the addition of the psychotropic drug, Lennon would write one of the first psychedelic songs, “Tomorrow Never Knows.” Hooking up with Yoko certainly had its influence, as well, as they posit here.

While all this was going on in the UK, the documentary wisely points out that they were not the only ones producing these sounds, as there were also bands like the Byrds in the States, releasing “Eight Miles High” just three weeks earlier (I would add the Count IV’s “Psychotic Reaction” and the burgeoning Garage scene). In England, there were also other simultaneous bands cropping up with the sound at the same time, such AMMmusic, a UK-based improvisational group. Their influence would be strong on the likes of Syd Barrett and his group Pink Floyd, and the Soft Machine. AMMmusic didn’t last long, but both of these other musical collectives would become identified with the movement, especially Syd Barret (d. 2006). Even on this DVD, there are periods where these other bands get more time than the Beatles around the counter-culture for using sonic techniques, but the Beatles were on top because they had the most widespread influence.

Over time, the scene spawned a central hub club in 1966, when the UFO opened (pronounced You-Foh, not U-F-O; oh, those crazy Brits!), where Pink Floyd (specifically Barrett) and Soft Machine became the musical figureheads of the movement.

An interesting argument given is that at first McCartney was shy about being associated with the UFO and IT, and would show up in disguise (including as a sheik), but in 1966, started arriving as himself. What amusingly crossed my mind is perhaps the real Paul was wary, but after his rumored death in ‘66, the Paul replacement (whom George would amusingly call Fauxl) was not as leery being associated with it..

Over a relatively short time, Paul would lose interest and John would stay involved. This film concludes that it was that incident that broke up the Beatles, rather than Yoko or business dealings, or the whole craziness about who would be their manager. To me that seems a stretch, though it could have been all of it, rather than just the one thing. Anyway, between police raids and times they were a-changin’, the scene would peter out eventually, as all scenes must. 

I’ve only touched on what goes on in this documentary, so it’s still worth a view. The counter-culture in England was definitely different than it was in the States. One thing that seems clear though, is that just like in North America, it was run by men (other than Yoko, I don’t remember a single woman even mentioned here). I remember reading a book about the 1960s Canadian counter-culture called Underground Times by Ron Verzuh (1989), and he makes similar claims about gender politics, not addressed here, but obvious to me seeing who is represented in interviews and discussions.

While there is less music expressed here in recordings than other Chrome Dream docs (and none complete, as is usual), there still is plenty. However, this film has definitely stepped up on getting movers and shakers to the scene, such as a frail and shell-shocked-looking John “Hoppy” Hopkins (d. 2015, who founded IT and organized UFO), a toothless Mick Farren (d. 2013; musician and IT journalist), Robert Wyatt (drummer for Soft Machine), Joe Boyd (founder of UFO and producer of Pink Floyd), and Eddie Provost (drummer of AMMmusic), among others. Journalists are kept at a minimum, so most of the stories are first hand.

The extras include a seven-minute short about the differences between the counter-culture scenes in North America (specifically San Francisco) and the UK titled “Other Side of the Mirror: UK and US Psychedelia,” a list of those interviewed and their accomplishments, and a link to find out more online.

Honestly, I did not know a lot of the British counter-culture history, though more familiar with its North American cousins, so this kept me interested throughout.

DVD Review: Charlie Daniels Band: Live at Rockpalast 1980

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet

Charlie Daniels Band 1980
Directed by Christian Wagner
MIG / WDR
76 min, 1980 / 2012
MIG-music.de
MVDvisual.com

I only saw the Charlie Daniels Band once, at Carnegie Hall in 1973. It was one of the first of many concerts I went to with Bernie Kugel after we became friends in high school. Why the Charlie Daniels Band, of all things, for a then-folkie (me) and a garage rock fan (Bernie)? They were opening for – and I kid you not – comic Robert Klein.

Back then, the only song of theirs I knew was “Devil Went Down to Georgia.” Okay, it’s pretty much the same now, except for a couple more. The difference is that I’m at an age when I can appreciate them now. I went through a country phase in the late ‘70s (yes, even as I was punking out; how much more punk could Hank Williams be, as he was arguably the Johnny Thunders of his day).

The CDB tends to be lumped together in the “Southern Rock” genre, but that’s not really fair. Most southern rock bands, like Lynyrd Skynyrd and Black Oak Arkansas (both of whom I interviewed in the mid-‘70s), were more Blues based, while the Tennessee-bred CDB is firmly country rock. Not the modern, crappy country of Shania Twain or Carrie Underwood (both of whom can truly sing, but are boring in their modernist style), but rather they are closer to the Grand Ole Opry than those who are appearing on particular that stage these days.

Essentially CDB is C&W with some rockin’ guitarwork, though their songs are varied in style. For example, some are quite reflective, such as, well, “Reflections,” in which Daniels remembers some close friends who are gone, such as his pal Ronnie van Zandt of the aforementioned Skynyrd. But he’s most famous for his story songs, such as “Legend of Wooley Swamp” (which sounds very similar to “Devil”), “Blindman,” another hit with “Uneasy Rider” (this has a similar patter to Charlie Ryan’s 1955 “Hot Rod Lincoln”), and of course, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

There definitely is some blues here, though, such as “No Potion for the Pain” (powerfully sung by Taz DiGregorio), but country is more prevailing.

Daniels has a strong voice, both literally and figuratively, showing why the CDB has so much clout in the country market. It makes me ponder how strange it must have been in the audience of Westfalenhalle Dortmund in Germany, on that November 28, 1980 night, and hear their jingoistic “In America.” I mean this tune is directly in Toby Keith territory. The audience seemed to enjoy it.

How country are they? Just listen to “Long Haired Country Boy.” Tom Crain’s guitar wails just right. In fact, Crain is pretty formidable, as is Daniel’s actually. The entire band is solid from beginning to end. He even takes the lead vocals on “Cumberland Mountain No. 9.” I did note, however, that it is strange there’s no slide guitar in the group.

And what better way to end the set with a long, particularly raucous and upbeat version of the bluegrass classic instrumental, “Orange Blossom Special” (with a bit of others such as “Dixie” thrown in), showcasing their heritage and bringing a bit of Americana to the Rhineland.

For a video recording from 1980, the image is quite clear, and the sound is excellent, as is usually true from the Rockpalast series. From beginning to end, this is a classic C&W lover’s dream. It certainly made me smile. And that’s even without Robert Klein.

Band
Charlie Daniels: Vocals/guitar/violin
Tom Crain: Guitar/vocals
Taz DiGregorio: Keyboards/vocals
Charlie Hayward: Bass
Fred Edwards: Drums
James W. Marshall: Drums

Set List:
Funky Junky
Trudy
Jitterbug
Legend of Wooley Swamp
Blindman
Reflections
El Toreador
No Potion for the Pain
In America
Long Haired Country Boy
Uneasy Rider
Cumberland Mountain No. 9
Devil Went Down to Georgia
Encore:
The South’s Gonna Do It Again
Orange Blossom Special

DVD Reviews: The Beatles: Their Golden Age; Ali: The Man, the Moves, the Mouth

DVD Reviews: The Beatles – Their Golden Age

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

The Beatles – Their Golden Age
Written, narrated and directed by Les Krantz
Facts That Matter Inc. / Wildwood Films
60 minutes, 2012
MVDvisual.com [VOD HERE]

Both of the DVDs reviewed here are from the late 2000s, produced by Les Krantz, and made to look like television programs, though more likely they are direct to – yes – video. I asked my usual Beatle expert if he had heard of Krantz, but the answer came back negative.

Apparently his specialty is mostly generalized books about sports, the arts, and timeframes (Rose Colored Fifties, Their First Time in the Movies, The World’s Worst: A Compendium of the Most Ridiculous Feats, Facts & Fools of All Time, etc.). Why am I bringing this up? For two simple reasons.

First of all, the multitude of work released by Krantz is generalized. Apparently he look through a huge amount of information and uses a media sieve to bring the highlights, in the least expensive way possible (i.e., rather than pay royalties). I remember when VHS first started becoming popular in the early 1980s, there were a series of tapes like this that glossed over a history of cars and / or music, covering a specific timeframe (e.g., the ‘60), or was about, say, the Beatles or Elvis that just contained an hour of interview material with no music. Philosophically, that is very similar to the way this Beatles history feels. There really isn’t much here that is going to be new to anyone who is a rabid (or even somewhat knowledgeable) fan. Still, it is quite amusing to watch what touchstones in the Fabsters’ complex history Krantz touches on; New York / Sullivan and subsequent world tours, Maharishi Yogi (no mention of Transcendental the Mia Farrow scandal, though), “bigger than Jesus,” and so on.

So, is this worth getting? Well, for Beatles completists, duh. For those with busy lives who enjoy capsulizations, most likely. For Beatles historians? Well, again, technically there is nothing new here, though the ride is certainly fun at times.

Which brings us, in a roundabout way, to the second reason: since Krantz has a looooong history skipping stones on many subjects, he has acquired access to some interesting footage along the way. So, while there isn’t a lick of Beatles music on the tape (though the terrible incidental soundtrack is nearly Rutles-level close, on a elevator music quantity), there is a lot of footage of the band being interviewed, arriving at airports, on a set for their films, and clips of their movies as well that I haven’t seen in a documentary. Then again, I am not a Beatles expert.

Of course, I need to say that my two favorite period clips are not here, and any Beatles fan knows the two I mean by this description: they are both of angry and/or tearful fans outside the Plaza Hotel in New York; the first is a girl complaining to the reporter she and her friend waited since early morning and didn’t get to see them, and the other is of a toothsome, hefty young fellow who, well, basically says the same thing; both blame the police, and also answer their own questions of why they were not allowed in the area. All very humorous.

Krantz does a somewhat admirable job narrating and writing, and whether this is worth getting or not is certainly not up to me, but up to your own taste in – and level of – Beatlemania.

Ali: The Man, the Moves, the Mouth
Executive Producer: Les Krantz
Hosted by Bert Sugar
Facts That Matter, Inc/ Wildwood Films
60 minutes, 2008 / 2012
MVDvisual.com

I suppose it is because I know so much less about boxing than the Beatles that I found this hour-long summation of Ali’s career more interesting (and I enjoyed the previous one).

Narrated by boxing expert Bert Sugar (listed as “show host” though he’s never seen; d. 2012), We see a very young Cassius Clay state why he wanted to box (has to do with a stolen bike, apparently), and follows his career though his many, many matches, on becoming a Muslim, his place in the Civil Rights movement, the war against him by the government during the Viet Nam war (yes, war), and those spectacular boxing moments with clever names like “Thrilla in Manila” and the “Rumble in the Jungle.”

Ali the man / legend is certainly more entertaining than Will Smith as Ali (and the Fresh Prince did an amazing job, FYI). Early on, Ali could put the fear into both his fists and his rhymes.

Sure, by his 30s, he was not the man he was when he began (rope-a-dope, my ass, he was tired), which was still the best in the world. Was he the quickest ever? Was he the strongest ever? Was he the prettiest ever? Well, it’s hard to argue with the last one, but I think it’s not the strength or the speed that made him the legend he is, but a combination of both, mixed with intelligence and instinct. The latter two is especially what put him above the likes of George Foreman and Joe Frazier. They were punching machines, but machines don’t think. Hey, that’s what brought town Skynet’s T-800, ain’t it?

Throughout the documentary, there are lots of shots of the key (and even some lesser) fights in Ali’s career, including the “phantom punch” against Sonny Liston. Of course, with this being only an hour, the clips are many, so they are naturally short. Besides, Ali was interesting enough out of the ring to support showing more of this footage.

My only two real gripes are that there is no mention (though seen a couple of times) of the man who probably did more for Ali’s career after his trainer, a snarky and rumpled man by the name of Howard Cosell (nee Cohen; d. 1995). Cosell kept him in the limelight in so many ways, championing him when few others would. Heck, his picture is even on the back cover! My other sticking point is the glossing over of Ali’s surprising defeat by Leon Spinks, an excellent but far lesser boxer; it’s pointed out that Ali won it back, but it is more a footnote here than the shock it was at the time. Much more time is spent on the bigger named Frazier and Foreman.

Ali / Clay is a fascinating person who has led an amazing life. His current lack of ability to move and talk fluidly due to a muscular degenerative disease reminds me of how talker Marshall McLuhan was reduced to one word the last year of his life after a stroke. And yet, Ali remains a charismatic figure who draws in all ages, occupations and class status. Even Patti Smith mentioned him in the song “Birdland,” on her first album, Horses.

This documentary gives a solid foundation of why that has happened. Nod to the man from me, too.

DVD Review: Of Dolls & Murder

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

Of Dolls & Murder: Extended Version
Written and directed by Susan Marks
I See Dead Dolls Films / Da Silva Pictures / Seminal Films, 2012
70 minutes, USD $14.95
Seminalfilms.com
OfDollsAndMurder.com
MVDvisual.com

At the turn of the century, a woman’s “place” was considered to be in the home, especially for an heiress from Chicago. This was the culture into which Frances Glessner Lee was born, locked out of a professional life in those pre-suffrage days.



Frances Glessner Lee

 But Lee was not one to shirk away. After an unhappy marriage, into her 50s, the socialite turned her interest in forensics (and a talent for textile art) into not only a career, but she revolutionized the science. Before her influence, police work relied more sleuthing, rather than an exact, scientific study. By the time she was done, she also founded Harvard’s Legal Medicine department.

In 1939, she started the yearly Seminar of Homicide Investigations for State Police, which is still being held, years after her death in 1962, while in her mid-80s. For many of these seminars, she personally created what are known as the Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Deaths, a series of 1-foot = 1-inch dioramas of actual death scenes using dolls, which were employed in the colloquium as teaching tools. In fact, 18 of the 20 known Nutshells (one was crushed in transit, one is missing) are still used as teaching tools in Harvard to this day.

This is merely the starting point of this fascinating documentary, about not only Lee and her dioramas, but what cultural outcome has resulted from her work.

Now, the whole dolls-death-diorama thing may sound familiar. If it does, odds are you watched the season of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation where there was a serial killer who did similar dollhouse scenes. This was a nod to Lee, and is discussed in detail in this film. In fact, the whole relationship of the television show to culture is a topic as much as Lee. There are clips from the program, and one of the interviewees is connected to the TV series. There are also plenty of shots of the Nutshells (called that after the expression, “...in a nutshell”), including some fine details.

Along with dissecting the Nutshells as the camera lovingly flows around the scenes, forensic science is compared with the television show, such as the fact that even though all the machinery is real, there is no actual existing single police-related space that is that sophisticated; a producer sadly states that the CSI set has the best forensic lab in the world. Also, they tell of the real amount of time it takes the police to get pertinent information, such as DNA or fingerprint identification.

A quite shocking focus of the film is what’s known colloquially as the Body Farm. Apparently, people donate their bodies to this scientific space, and their corporeal remains are tested for rates of rot by being left exposed to the air, or put into peculiar situations (such as being in a sealed garbage bin or plastic bag), for example. We get to see particular body parts covered with bugs and maggots, skulls, and the like, which is occasionally gruesome; but honestly, there is nothing here that is more gross than the fake CSI show.

One aspect I found particularly interesting was the two-sided question about evidence. On one hand, thanks to the plethora of sophisticated television cop shows (not to mention how many times they are rerun), jurors are more likely to pay attention during the trial to scientific information, and understand it better. On the other hand, it is becoming harder to get a conviction without DNA evidence. For example, just this week (end of March 2012), a man was found innocent of murdering his wife in a wide-publicized trial because all of the evidence against him – of which the police felt was sufficient and substantial – was circumstantial. One has to wonder if there may have been a different outcome pre-CSI.

As a strange choice, the narrator of this very serious documentary is legendary auteur-of-the-outcast-and-bizarre filmmaker John Waters (part of this documentary takes place in his beloved Baltimore, which is the locus of all his films). Waters is an admitted crime buff, so his interest in the topic is understandable. It was a brave choice to use him, but he does an outstanding job, without camping it up (and, I am proud to admit that I am a Waters’ fan). Each section of this release goes into detail about a particular Nutshell, with Waters describing the real-life circumstances that led to the death depicted in the dollhouse.

There are five extras included: the first is “John Waters on the Nutshells,” in which he describes what they mean to him, and how he sees them as a hidden (i.e., not public) art project (2:40). The second is “John Waters on Frances Glessner Lee,” where director Susan Marks interviews Waters, who jokingly refers to Lee as possibly having been “…a cop hag,” and how he is “intrigued by true crime treatise.” (2:30).

The third short is “The Patron Saint of Forensic Medicine,” which goes deeper into detail about Lee and her relationship to her Nutshells. For example, she hand-knit all the clothes, and it is explained that she was more interested in them being an aid to investigative thinking in processing evidence than actually solving the crimes they depict (5:30). The last of the films is “The Missing Nutshells,” which describes the two missing ones indicated above, and includes still pictures of them (1:00).

The last extra is a full-length film commentary, which is quite interesting, though occasionally frustrating. People who make films, listen up: If there are more than two people talking (there are four here), since we can’t see you, it is hard to tell who is saying what. No, we don’t necessarily want multiple commentary tracks; just make it as easy for us as possible, okay? Note I am saying this with a smile, and not a finger-point.

This is a film that is fascinating viewing, on a weird topic as its thread. Director Susan Marks keeps the pace steady and the topics interesting. As documentaries go, it never loses the audience’s attention while covering many topics, and yet is never obtuse, without talking down to its audience. It’s as much a cultural study about forensic science as it pertains to our perceptions as it is about Lee and her Nutshell Studies. Good viewing all the way around.

DVD Review: Public Image Limited: Live at Rockpalast 1983

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

Public Image Limited: Live at Rockpalast 1983
Directed by Christian Wager
MIG / WDR, 1983 / 2011
58 minutes, USD $19.95
MIG-music.de
MVDvisual.com

Public Image Limited (aka PiL) is not just the band that John Lydon formed after his time with the Sex Pistols, but once it’s initial members left (and pretty early on in the 1980s), essentially it became the name of Lydon’s back-up group, since musicians came and went so fast during it’s initial 14-year run (1978-1994; though a version reformed in 2009).

There is certainly a marked difference between the Pistols and PiL, despite both starting with the letter “P,” and that is certainly to Lydon’s credit. While the former were musically talented, they were certainly not very disciplined. The latter, on the other hand – and this is especially true in later incarnations of the band – were a tight and consistent unit.

For a series of shows in Germany and Japan – part of which was taped for this release when they appeared at the “uberdisco” Zeche, in Bochum, Western Germany, on Halloween 1983 – Lydon assembled a collection of touring musicians to join him and original PiL drummer Martin Atkins. While the rest of the band doesn’t necessarily look the part (guitarist Joseph Guida, for example, looks like he should be in a pre-hair-metal rock band), they certainly play like they do, giving Lydon a strong backing for his music.

During the Pistol days, in “Johnny Rotten” mode, it seemed all Lydon did was give that tilt-headed, unblinking glare which works for about a minute, and snarl out some lyrics while being a living embodiment of sarcasm. In PiL, however, while some of that still exists, he seems a lot more relaxed, and, dare I say it without destroying his public image (pun intended), he seems to be having a good time. Rather than just hanging on the mic stand, hunched over and screaming, he jumps off the stage and approaches the audience pretty often, and frequently does that reggae-style skank dancing. Heck, he even smiles repeatedly. No, this is not JR, this is JL, even though he still occasionally leans in and sings into the camera.

As this excellent performance shows, PiL take an early Stooges and / or later Flamin’ Groovies influence and base many songs on a single riff, such as with “Religion,” that is played in a round, over and over, with slight changes. Mix in a bit of atonal No Wave, and this makes it hypnotic. PiL creates something of their own though, by also adding a reggae touch (just a smidge) and an elaborate keyboard set-up that would make Rick “I’m Boring” Wakeman notice.

If I had to pick a quintessential PiL-styled song from this DVD, it would be “Memories,” though my fave is by far one of their biggest successes, relatively speaking, “Bad Life.” In this one Lydon doesn’t sing as much as atonally caterwaul. It’s more known, however, for the repeated line, “This is what you want / This is what you get…” On the DVD box, however, they state that the band’s biggest hit was “(This is Not a) Love Song.” Fair enough.

While it may not be the classic Lydon-Wobble-Levene-Atkins version of PiL, this put-together band still delivers the sound. [Two quick sidebar PiL stories: when PiL first played in New York City at the Ritz in 1981, they stood silhouetted behind a curtain while the club played prerecorded tracks. The ticket-paying fans were not impressed, and the resulting riot did a lot of damage to the club. Second, while I was working for cable access show Videowave, PiL was scheduled to appear for an interview, but the story we heard from their management was that Levene was MIA looking for drugs, so the rest of the band decided not to bother showing up, being the only non-shows in Videowave history, other than a new, young singer named Madonna Ciccone.] Quite honestly, I was not impressed with PiL back then, finding them too contrived for my Ramones-Heartbreakers-Dictators taste, but this DVD shows that there was definitely something there quite interesting, in a more primal way. This especially shown in the song “Under the House,” where everyone on stage other than Lydon rhythmically pounds drums together, while he sings / chants.

As a surprise, for the eighth song Lydon dusts off his Rotten character and delves into “Anarchy in the U.K.,” showing he still has some of the fire that lit up the Pistols. While played a bit too sterile (i.e., not sloppy, like the Pistols, but sounding more precise like the studio album/single), I’m not complaining; I sang along with it and enjoyed it. And as not a surprise, after the song, Lydon says goodnight and leaves the stage with the band. Short 33-minute set?

Well, as you can see below, they came back and played nearly as long an encore as the set itself, thankfully. Between each of these songs, though, they leave the stage and then return. Oddly, they end their show with “Public Image.” Why is this odd? Because they began the gig with the exact same song. Happily, it’s a good one.

In all, there is a total performance from beginning to end, and nearly an hour of music. Lydon’s between-song comments are kept to a minimum (thankfully), and the music stands out.

The Rockpalast series was/is far superior to any of the then-contemporary American relatives like Don Kirshner’s Rock Concerts or In Concert, because the German version played the entire show (I have no idea if the original airing had commercials or not), and did not resort to any of the ridiculous special effects that the U.S. ones did, such as split screens, flipping the images, annoying angles, or the dreaded kaleidoscope effect (that’s where there are five images in a circular pattern, and they twirl around the center). Rather, you have clear images using multi-camera editing, and a dynamic sound for its time period (i.e., pre-HD).

There are two extras: the first is a six-minute interview with Lydon done by Rockpalast host Alan Bangs. Lydon seems to be wearing pajamas and a bathrobe (I should go back and see if he’s wearing slippers…). He asks some decent questions, about such topics as the original PiL members (Lydon states that they’re busy with their “own projects,” which is to musicians what “spending more time with their families” is to politicians) and Lydon’s experience working on the film Cop Killer. Before long though, Lydon being Lydon, he gets bored and says, “Are we done?” and walks off. Y’see, Lydon is solid ego. His public persona has always (well, since joining the Pistols anyway) believed that what he feels at any particular moment, is the most important thing, regardless of anyone else’s needs. Now, one can look at this admiringly, as being his own person. I find it’s easier to be like that than have to attended to someone behaving in that manner. Being obnoxious is only good in the first person, but again, Lydon being Lydon, he has never been able to think beyond his own skin. I mean this as an observation rather than a judgment… Okay, maybe it’s a bit of both…

The second extra is the band – with Lydon still in PJs and robe – soundchecking “Annalisa” and “Chant.”

I would recommend this without hesitation. It’s Lydon and his music at the top of his game, and an easy groove with which to have some fun.

Band:
John Lydon: Vocals
Joseph Guida: Guitar
Louis Bernardi: Bass
Arthur Stead: Keyboards
Martin Atkins: Drums

Set List:
Public Image Limited
Annalisa
Religion
Memories
Flowers of Romance
Solitaire
Chant
Anarchy in the U.K.
Encores:
(This is Not a) Love Song
Low Life
Under the House
Bad Life
Public Image II

DVD Review: From Straight to Bizarre

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

From Straight to Bizarre: Zappa, Beefheart, Alice Cooper and L.A.’s Lunatic Fringe
Executive Producer: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual, 2011
161 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedream.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Frank Zappa (RIP, 1993) has always been known as bit of a lunatic, be it his diverse and non-mainstream musical directions, to his meandering anti-censorship rants during the whole ‘80s PMRC debacle led by Tipper Gore (Al’s spouse).

However, it was this borderline behavior that made him able to land a foot on both sides of the line, appealing equally to those in the straight world (i.e., general audiences) and those on the bizarre periphery (i.e., the fringe of culture). Because of this, he became a mediator of the latter to bring them into the former, even if only in the representative form of a 12-inch oil-based black disc with their voices.

As a visionary living in the hills of the Los Angles, Frank attracted groupies (including making them babysitters for then-young son Dweezil and -infant daughter Moon Unit), schizophrenics, control freaks, and rockers trying to find their direction. Obviously, Frank felt a bond with them, as he was usually seen as an “other,” or trickster character on the scene.

After finding some success with his own releases, such as the Mothers of Invention’s seminal Freak Out, Frank managed to get the record label to support his own vanity label, Bizarre, which he started with Herb Cohen; and after they were dismayed by the lack of sales and cancelled it, he started another called Straight (the DVD title has it backwards, y’see), until its collapse in 1973.

To paraphrase a song by the band Sparks, talent wasn’t a needed asset for those who joined in the Zappa stable. Rather, it was a collective of degrees, from very able to those whose personality and oddity weighed in more than culturally classical facility.

Despite being L.A.-focused, their first artist was actually New York singer-songwriter Sandy Hurvitz, who would later go more famously by the moniker Essra Mohawk. According to Mohawk, who is interviewed on this DVD, she had a personal relationship with Frank, which soured, resulting in him leaving her studio tracks unfinished as far as tweaking, and that was the reason for the lack of success of the product. Actually, that becomes the central theme here: Zappa was all gung-ho, something happened between him and the artist(s) with whom he was working, and he bailed on the final work. This was also true for the groupie/dancers-turned-singers collective known as the GTOs (Girls Together Outrageously, two of whom are interviewed here including the lovely Miss Pamela DesBarres), the Alice Cooper band, and Captain Beefheart (RIP, 2010), to name a few.

As for Larry “Wild Man” Fischer (RIP, 2011), the crack in their working relationship happened after his release, when he psychotically accused Zappa of not paying him royalties on records that he believed sold better than it actually did (see the recent film about Fischer, DeRailroaded for his entertaining-yet-sad side of the story), which lead to his one Zappa-released album never to be reissued. Due to health reasons, both mental and physical, Fischer was not a part of this documentary.

While Captain Beefheart was a control freak who kept his Magic Band on a very short leash, Zappa (his ex-college roommate, apparently) was equally prickly, which of course makes the story of the Bizarre/Straight labels all the more interesting looking back in the rearview mirror (as Marshall McLuhan may have put it).

Surely, Zappa is the more recognized name, but Cohen also has his cadre of artists that mostly went nowhere, that are also represented on this DVD, such as Tim Buckley (RIP, 1975), Jerry Yester (ex-Lovin’ Spoonful) and his wife Judy Henske, and Harlem-based R&B a cappella group the Persuasions (lead singer Jerry Lawson tells some great anecdotes here), among others.

For nearly three hours, this Chrome Dreams documentary (this is the second by them on Zappa I’ve seen) keeps the attention level high, by relying more on the people who were there and directly affected, rather than only those who reported on it (though it’s always a joy to see and hear music historian Richie Unterberger). While chock full of rare clips of the band – both visual and aural – it is these recent interviews that really put out tales from the past and make it not just academic, but palpably alive. There are two members of the GTOs (the aforementioned Miss Pamela, and Miss Mercy Fontenot, aka Judith Peters), two from the first lineup of the Nazz, aka the Alice Cooper Band (drummer Neal Smith and bassist Dennis Dunaway), two of the Magic Band (drummer John French, aka Drumbo, and guitarist Bill Karkleroad, aka Zoot Horn Rollo), Essra Mohawk, and scenester and ever creepy Kim Fowley. For the historians, along with Unterberger, there are the likes of Zappa biographers Billy James, Barry Miles and Ben Watson, and others who wrote extensively on the Los Angeles music scene.

This is possibly one of the best of the Chrome Dreams series I’ve been fortunate to see, and I’ve seen quite a few now. By wisely focusing on the musicians and those there, and keeping the music biographers / historians / critics as more of a Greek Chorus rather than the core, they have produced a document that is much more first hand reporting, and thereby making the story more than just second-person circumstantial.

There are two extras (along with the usual contributors bios and an online link): First up is “The Art of Persuasion: Jerry Lawson and Frank Zappa After the Straight Label.” During its 5:40 length, Lawson discusses his band’s contribution to the Frank Zappa tribute album, Frank, after his passing. They did “The Meek Shall Inherit Nothing,” which we hear in a clip.

Second is “Hunger!: The Struggles of the Magic Band,” which describes the diets (minimal, mostly veggies, due to lack of funds) forced on the band by Beefheart, and how this resulted in the band getting arrested for stealing food.

Both of these are fun, and just the right length.



Bonus Videos:

DVD Review: The Scarlet Worm

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

The Scarlet Worm
Directed by Michael Fredianelli
Unearthed Films, 2011
93 minutes, USD $14.95
Unearthedfilms.com
MVDvisual.com

When I think of no-to-low-budget, independent films, the genres that tend to crop up are either low-ball horror or lower-ball (pun intended) comedy (or a mixture of both). It’s certainly not a western, and especially not one as well made as this.

In addition, when one is viewing indie films on this level, there is a bit of an expectation that the acting will be more along the line of John Lithgow sit-com scenery chewing, rather than John Lithgow dramatic film acting. While there are a couple of somewhat stiff performances here and there from minor roles, generally the performances are top-notch and equal to many of the majors.

The story takes place in 1909, and revolves around Print (Aaron Stielstra), a hired gunslinger for Mr. Paul (Montgomery Ford, aka Brett Halsey), a corrupt cattle baron. Apparently this is a serial position, as Print was trained by previous gunhand Hank (Kevin Giffin), who was in turn instructed by Mr. Paul. Now it’s Print’s turn to pass on his knowledge to Lee (Derek Hertig) a youngn’ assigned by Mr. Paul.

See, while Print ain’t the sharpest stick in the stack, he believes he is, and that is just part of his (literally) saving grace, because what he lacks in thought he gains in instinct. Along with an artistic flair that is way out of place in the Wild West, he turns his many, many, many killings in his “paintings” by posing the bodies, or by the style and grace in which he kills. Death is his poetry (though he claims to write some, which we never actually hear, probably for the better good).

Stielstra, looking like a cross between a shorter Sasha Baron Cohen, Frank Zappa and Tony Shaloub – and I could also add in Daniel Day Lewis in his There Will Be Blood role – is ideal as Print. Having worked with director Michael Fredianelli a few times, he smartly underplays the character, as is mentioned in one of the commentaries, because Print is such a weird and anachronistic dude that it could easily have been done over the top, but by reigning it in and using his eyes and mouth twitches to emote a lot, he brings more of a reality to the character. Even when some of his dialog is neo-Dirty Harry or Pulp Fictionesqe, he finds a way to pull it off without sounding hokey, such as when he describes his Smith & Wesson pistol (though mostly he uses a rifle): “It’s about as pretty as a Sunday morning…I got a feelin’ it’s the kind of gun that God might carry.”

As with most indie films with almost no budget, the crew hold multiple jobs. In this case, Stielstra also wrote much of the original music, including singing up front with the Road Apples (lyrics by the film’s writer, David Lambert), and also handled all the exploding squibs (i.e., “blood” filled condoms).

Hertig, who plays his protégé Lee, has a Rick Schroeder vibe going, especially with the deep blue eyes. At times he acts like a deer-in-headlights, which actually contradicts his wilder “young” days shown in B&W flashbacks. Still, he portrays the character well, starting as someone who’s never killed a person to one who makes up for lost time. Gratefully, the makers did not go the cliché protégé vs. mentor route, but rather an entirely different path.

The role of Hank essentially mirrors the Gene Wilder character from Blazing Saddles in many ways. Written for an older person (Wilder’s was written for John Wayne, who turned down the role), Giffin takes the role and makes it work even as one not much older than his trainee (Print). Like “the Kid,” Hank got tired of killing and crawled into a bottle when not a barber, but comes back as a rescuing hero (without getting shot in the ass by a prepubescent). While being hard, Giffin also shows some of a humanistic side that makes the character likeable.

Before I discuss the next main characters, I need to make something clear. On one of the commentary tracks, Producer Mike Molloy adamantly insists that this film is not based on the style of the Spaghetti Western, but rather later revisionist westerns, and I wholeheartedly agree. A better comparison would be, say, McCabe and Mrs. Miller or those by Peckinpaw than anything by director Leone. I mean, nearly everyone is just filthy, with dust and dirt smeared on their bodies, faces, and clothes. Okay, that needed to be said before I went forward, because the plot of the story is Print being hired by Mr. Paul to kill a brothel owner who performs abortions when necessary (which is apparently often) on his prostitutes (I counted five of the ladies). It is for this reason that the film is broken up into five chapters, each with an antiquated term for the prenatal development of a child (e.g., A Quickening, Ensoulment, and Curettage).

As a side note: practically the only women in the cast are those who work in the cat house, and are severely underwritten compared to most of the men. This is definitely a weak spot, as at least one of them could have been a much better character. Rita Rey plays Annabelle, to whom we are introduced mid-abortion. Her actions change the course of the film, yet she gets very little dialog, and what screen time she does get she is naked more often than not.

Getting back to the matter, as with Leone’s A Fist Full of Dollars, Print is caught between two powerful men, both with heavily armed hired men behind them, and who hate each other for reasons that seem obvious at first, but there is something underlying that we learn a bit later. Along the way is a huge body count that makes most horror films pale in comparison. And yes, there will be blood.

As the first of the two butting heads, Mr. Paul is played by Ford (née Halsey), a veteran actor of high caliber (pun intended) dating back a large number of years, but his specialty was – yep, you guessed it – westerns, and especially of the spaghetti subgenre. You’ll probably recognize him, as he’s also been in hundreds of television shows, usually as a guest star rather than a series regular. His acting is nonchalant and natural, more like he’s talking than playing a character. He makes it look very easy to be both evil and likeable.

On the other side of the equation is the brothel proprietor, Heinrich Kley, played by veteran German actor, Dan van Husen. Husen has a long history of playing Nazis in some A-level films, and in – yes, again – spaghetti westerns (many with Lee van Cleef). Kley is initially also likeable, even though he forces his “girls” to abort their babies, which he considers necessary evils. A religious man, he backs his actions as getting rid of the children of demons (e.g., drunks, violent men). Having Print go after him on the proposal of his being an abortionist has a pro-life feel that made me uncomfortable (the film’s writer, Lambert, claims this was not the case, though), but even Print is somewhat persuaded by Kley’s reasoning. Kley actually comes across as a level-headed guy until he feels betrayed, and then shows some of his true nasty stripes.

Print, through setting up a situation with rival cowhands that he’s angered, works his way into Kley’s trust, and starts working for him as his enforcer. Lee tags along as his son, who falls for Annabelle (apparently his first).

Duplicity and lust leads to a couple of stupendous shoot-outs with dozens lying dead, and even some of the anti-heroes in rough shape. No, I’m not going to give away too much of the well-written and multi-layered story.

The look of the film, under the eye of cinematographer Michael Martinez, is quite outstanding. He uses a bit of a washed-out look to the film, and with an almost sped up look like it’s shot at 20 frame’s per second, especially during the action sequences. The lighting is glaring sometimes in an appropriate way (such as the red shades across Print’s face when he’s talking to Kley). There are a couple of scenes where the light looks a bit different from different angles, but what the heck, the end product looks great.

There are two commentary tracks, but none with the director, sadly. The better is the first one, with writer David Lambert and some of the actors of secondary characters, but worked as crew as well. While about 20 percent of this is whatever, there are a lot of really good nuggets in the rest, including how the film got made, anecdotal stories about the cast, opinions on specific scenes and shots, and other little detail tidbits we love. Apparently, Lambert is a Wild West buff, and he used a lot of his research in the film, which shows. One fact he points out that got my interest is that Print’s character is based on two actual people from the period, one of whom was named Killin’ Jim Miller. I would have, however, loved to have heard a bit more about what the title means, which is explained in the film, but I just didn’t get it.

The second voiceover track is with producers Mike Molloy and Eric Zaldivar, the latter who also does well playing Kley’s weakest-link son, Gus (he was also second unit director). While there is quite a bit of additional information about the making of the film and its crew, they seem a bit less confident in this off-the-cuff role, and tend to step on each other. Zaldivar (who is not as well mic’d) commonly asks, “Should we talk about (so-and-so)?” Molloy keeps second guessing himself with statements like, “Well, I don’t know if I’m supposed to mention (so-and-so), but…” However, I would like to add that I have heard so much worse tracks than this, and there is quite a bit of data, making it worth the listen. Though, I have to say, for a low budget film, two commentary tracks, really? That’s 3 hours above the time of the film itself. It may have been better, in hindsight, having Lambert and Molloy do it together.

Anyway, another bonus is subtitles, but only in Spanish. There are also about a half-dozen trailers, including some by the various crew of this film. There is also a brief seven-minute featurette with the long title, “Of Worms and Dogs: How Wild Dogs Productions Made The Scarlet Worm.” Directed by Molloy, it’s a light piece of fluff that doesn’t really have much point, looking like it was directed by someone in a college film class, but it also obviously was quite work intensive with many edits. Am I sorry I watched it? No, it was enjoyable, just not essential. Best part was getting to see the cast/crew be themselves.

This is a low-budget film, and in case one forgets that, there are a couple of reminders here and there. For example, a couple of times someone who is wearing a hat is shot in the head, and after a spray of blood, of course they die. However, as they fall, their hats come off and the head is unwounded. I found this amusing. As for the story, there is one big potential opportunity missed at the end: a certain character is killed off who is a bit of a milquetoast, which I think is a mistake. Having him come back as a killer bound for revenge in a sequel would have been the right move. And from the commentaries, it sounds like a sequel is in the works, though no mention of it is made on any Websites, and the director has made half a dozen films since this one. I hope it gets made, and I look forward to more of Michael Fredianelli output. This one really shines.