DVD Review: Gold

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

                            

Gold

Directed and Organized by Bob Levis and Bill Desloge          
Wild Eye Releasing                        
90 minutes, 1968 / 1972 / 1996 / 2010    
www.WildEyeReleasing.com
www.MVDvisual.com

By 1968, when this film was shot, the Hays Office style of extreme film business gatekeeping was essentially toothless, after years of legislation ripping it of its power, such as proclaiming the studios must be separated from the means of distribution; in other words, the studios could no longer own the theaters. This broke their monopoly, opening up the chance for foreign and independent features. This started early in that decade, giving rise to the likes of the material of Roger Corman and Herschell Gordon Lewis. Yet, this film didn’t see any theaters until it was shown in England in 1972, and had its US premiere in New York in 1996, thanks in part to a minimal number of negatives leading to the film becoming lost.

Continuing with my geekology, social theory shows that trends start with the poor, get picked up by the rich who are trying to show how “cool” they are with the lower social strata, and then by the middle class who are trying to climb the social ladder. Langston Hughes was writing about this in the early part of the 20^th Century in stories like “Slave on the Block” (1933). In this case, the hippies were indigents who were praised and emulated by the Hollywood youth (such as the Fondas).

Put these two together, and you have a perfect storm of the idealistic having enough money to display their incompetence (a drugged version of the Peter Principle, perhaps?). This is not to say I do not respect what they were trying to do¸ because even the punk movement had its reflective moments (think of the British film Jubilee [1978], which has very similar vibes to this one, dealing with similar grand motifs of overbearing systems of control, anarchy, and both the differences and similarities).

That being said, this film was made for about $1000, most of which went to the insurance for the rental of an olde style train used for one day of shooting in the month-long filming, the rest going to equipment, food, and other mind-altering substances. Sure some of the cast and crew were either professionals in the industry already, and others wanted to be, but it is equally obvious that some were there to share in the chemical and herbal vibe. The end result may be considered, using a modern idiom, a hot mess. There is no writing credit for the film because much of it was improvised, and that is easy to figure out pretty quickly.

The stick of the premise is that a second gold rush gets a group of people – er – motivated to head to northern California. There, a small corrupt government springs up among the new town (whose members include Ramblin’ Jack Elliot and Dan Hicks!), and it takes the local loser to rise up and lead la revolución! Truly, for both sides, it is shown that violence is, indeed, inherent in any system, even the loving, herbal kind.

But this is mostly a comedy. Well, actually it is pan-genre, sometimes switching from scene to scene or character to character. When the film starts, it’s a western, and most are dressed accordingly as they board a train headed for the locus of supposed gold (that we never see a hint of other than a mine shaft door near the end). One exception is the villain of the piece, a cop called Harold Jinks (as in, “Jinx! It’s the cops!”), portrayed by Garry Goodrow, who dresses like a 1920s G-man and talks in the quick patter of Jimmy Cagney of that period, see? Yeah, that’s it, see? Jinks is obsessed with control and stopping nudity, something nearly everyone else is swaying and bouncing the other way. Meanwhile, a sexy woman (Caroline Parr) with big – er – hair gets on the same train definitely flashing some legs and belly in a cut-out dress, seemingly right out of Carnaby Street.

At the start of the film, we meet our hero, Hawk (Del Close, d. 1999), who is on crutches. We watch as he almost misses the train and ends up riding underneath it (Close foolishly did his own highly-dangerous stunts, surely empowered by some – er – altered state of mind).

Through much nudity (lots of full frontal of all genders) and multiple trysts, with some nearly prescience to the mud-caked denizens of the Woodstock Festival in the coming year, Jinks goes to the dark(er) side and starts arresting people left and right and puts them into a barbed wired corral (either a pig sty or cow pasture of the commune on which it was filmed). More of the town ends up there than on the outside, of course. Finally, the mayor, not such a wonderful person himself, starts to object, but you’ll see where that leads.

With power corrupting absolutely, in a comment on the war in Vietnam and the then-current Democratic Convention in Chicago that ended in disaster, a hero must arise, with that being Close’s Hawk character (again, a reference to being pro-war).  Easily no longer a western and certainly more an allegory to the then-modern Marxist-influenced groups like the SDS and the Weathermen, you know which way the wind is going to blow when Hawk starts reading Mao’s Little Red Book and quoting Che Guevara, even coming to physically resemble him. With his drunken buddy, LeRoy Acorn (Orville Schell) they start planning a violent coup via a homemade arsenal (including bazooka!). Note that all the main characters are men…I’m just sayin’.

While I won’t give away what happens – and even though I’ve told quite a bit of the story, yet not enough to diminish the fun of the flick – perhaps it’s worth noting how religion plays a background role in the whole mishegoss. There are lots of songs on the soundtrack about Jesus, and Christianity is mentioned or referred to as a recurring motif in the dialog. I am not certain if this was a commentary about church and state, the hypocrisy of how the state sometimes uses religion (e.g., “opiate of the masses”), or it was so imbedded in the filmmakers that it came naturally without regard to its exclusivity of the rest of the culture (and much of the business end of Hollywood at the time).

Speaking of soundtracks, the reissue is very proud of the fact – and rightfully so – of their use of songs by the then-unknown Motor City Five (aka, the MC5), which ups the films credibility among more modern hopelessly obscure nostalgia collectors. You just know there is a whole contingent of First Wave punkers who are going to see this for that reason alone.

Extras include two somewhat interesting full-length commentaries, an hour-long access cable interview with the director, trailers, and more.

Whatever your motivation, or mind-altering substance intake, the sheer insanity of this film makes it worth seeing. There is so much happening, and it takes a vivid snapshot of a counterculture that is the remnant of the original Beat hipsters of its period, much in the way the Ken Kesey Merry Pranksters group did with the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test road trip. Gold is both a throwback and ahead of its time, concurrently. What’s more, it’s groovin’ in these equally harsh times.

 

DVD Review: Strange Fruit: The Beatles’ Apple Records

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

Strange Fruit: The Beatles’ Apple Records
Executive Producer: Rob Johnstone
Narrator: Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual, 2011
162 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Money and musicians produce a strange fruit, indeed. In the U.S., Frank Zappa took his royalties and created two labels that brought the fringe element to the forefront by putting them on record, such as Larry “Wild Man” Fischer and Captain Beefheart. While there was more of a straightforward music direction for Apple than focusing significantly on “outsiders,” we learn of Apple Corps’ full roster of musicians of various stripes.

It was 1968, a time of peace, love, and, well, lots and lots of pharmaceuticals that gave all that the extra oomph. Out of the true nature of “All You Need Is…” etc., the collective Fab Four decided to open their own recording studio and label, and free themselves up from the chains of their major label’s big biz outlook. Without the commitment of a record deal (e.g., X many releases in X amount of time), amid spiritual journeys to India and, well, mind trips, they opened their arms and wallets to those who possibly may never be heard.

It is important to remember that their manager, Brian Epstein, who was incredibly and truly devoted to the boys (pun not intended) was also infamous as a terrible business leader when it came to finances, licensing, and other matters of royalties. So with no real role model and being zoned out as much as they were, it is hardly surprising that the Apple venture would be a financial fiasco.

Apple Corp. certainly started off strong, with the likes of Mary “Those Were the Days” Hopkins and “Sweet James” Taylor. Even though Taylor would quickly jump ship after his first Apple LP, it was just enough of an impetus to get the ball rolling, with many charting songs, a starring role in the bleak film Two-Lane Blacktop, Carly Simon, and a heroin addiction still ahead for him. Hopkins would stay longer, but would feel typecast and leave to follow her own folk roots.

However, Apple’s biggest success, other than by the Beatles as a group and as individual members, would certain have been Badfinger. Their brief shot in the sun (I am including their many reunions received by a lukewarm fanbase) would result in monster hits such as “Come and Get It,” “No Matter What” and my fave cut of theirs, “Day After Day.” But even they would scurry to a major label thanks to the lack of tour support by the Beatles and Apple management (though, as is pointed out here, they actually lost money on the deal).

But ya know what, anyone who is the least bit knowledgeable about these bands, well, this won’t come as any great surprise, though in the case of Badfinger, it is good to hear it first-hand from Joey Molland and Rod Griffens, Badfinger’s guitarist and bassist / lyricist, respectively who are interviewed on this DVD.

However, the most interesting moments for me on this Chrome Dreams British special, is the more obscure musicians that were signed, such as Jackie Lomax, Brute Force, and the very annoying David Peel, all of whom are represented on this, including Elephant’s Memory bassist Gary van Scyoc (I saw them play a free show in ’74 in Central Park with the more enjoyable Brownsville Station opening).

As with most other Chrome Dreams recent DVD releases, there is a mixed representation of musicians, music journalists (for me, the lesser interesting as I want to hear “what we did,” not “what I was told”), and Apple Managing Director Tony Bramwell, to discuss the period (essentially 1967 through 1973). It’s rare they have women to talk about the time under discussion, however; I would have liked to have seen Mary Hopkins included, for example.

On a very positive note, at well over two hours, this is pretty comprehensive, including narrative info, photos, music, and videos to bring the big picture, bit by bit, to the viewer. Lots of interesting facts abound, including how Badfinger backed Harrison at the Madison Square Garden Concert for Bangladesh despite his partially abandoning the production of their LP to Todd Rundgren, how Elephant’s Memory dis John Lennon’s work on their record (giving them a more pop feel rather than classic rock), and especially how the Beatles’ manager and Apple executive Allen Klein essentially alienated and drove away everyone until Apple was irreparably broken, even after he was brought on board to save the Corp in the first place.

While the DVD focuses mostly on the artists, where it is weak is discussing how people who worked for Apple were essentially doing nothing but receiving pay for sitting around and getting stoned, and from what I’ve heard over the years, stealing the place blind (e.g., office equipment). This was part of the reason Klein needed to come in to rescue Apple, including adding time clocks and firing layabouts. His work habits wasn’t the problem, it was how ruthlessly he did it (even if it needed doing).

Along with the usual two extras for Chrome Dreams, namely bios of the contributors (interviewees) and a link to access to more info on-line (never have done this), there is also a 9-minute gem called “The Fuh King Speaks!: In Conversation with Brute Force.” Here, BF (aka New Yorker Stephen Friedland) discusses how he got in touch with George Harrison (through Tommy Dawes of the Cyrkle), and the history of his great song, “The King of Fuh” (much of which is played in long sound clips). I saw Friedland play once at the Housing Works Book Store on Crosby Street in New York City. It was a great experience.

Chrome Dreams is an amazing brand, who specializes in rock history (mostly British, but apparently the ‘60s-‘70s West Coast U.S. scene is on their radar) in as thorough a way as I’ve ever seen, and as time goes on, they get more impressive. As for this one, nearly every one of my music-related friends wants to see this, which is a nod in itself to the efforts put into it. I’d like to see them do some work on both American and British punk, while some of the core creators are still alive. But that’s just my wish list…