In honor of this year’s Cannes Film Festival (taking place as we speak), here’s one of the best-known and most beloved of all the Palme D’Or winners, 1994’s “Pulp Fiction.” There’s not much more I can say about the “Star Wars” of the 1990s that hasn’t already been said. I had seen Quentin Tarantino’s first film “Reservoir Dogs” on its opening weekend at an upscale Arlington, VA art theater in the fall of 1992, after reading about it nearly a year before in the magazine “Film Threat.” After seeing “Dogs,” I obnoxiously demanded that everyone I knew at the time see this film, carrying a VHS copy of the film to practically every gathering I went to for the next year and a half. A year later, I saw the Tarantino-scripted “True Romance” twice on its opening weekend in 1993 and became an even more annoying (and mouth-breathing) Tarantino disciple. Needless to say, by the fall of 1994, especially after it won the Palme D’Or at Cannes and had so many major critics vehemently raving about it (or condemning it), I could barely contain my excitement when “Pulp Fiction” finally made its US debut. This time, I saw it at a Tuscaloosa, AL mall multiplex, which was a real sign that the underground planets had aligned and Tarantino’s blend of violence and comedy had become VERY chic by this point.
Mark Seal recently composed a very lengthy, but immensely entertaining article about the making of “Pulp Fiction” for Vanity Fair’s March 2013 Hollywood issue, which you can read at the link below:
Brian Eno’s stab at a “hit” single, circa 1974. Of course, it’s totally f–king brilliant, as was everything Eno did back in those days. But I love the way that Eno tried to stay within the pop song format, but still totally unleash all of the wild, twisted, weird, and avant-garde s–t he was famous for. A great experiment and a great single. Too bad the record buying public didn’t feel the same way. From a January 1974 appearance on the Dutch pop TV show TOPPOP.
Thanks to my British compadre Loose Handlebars for posting this. Please be sure to check out his amazing blog at:
My all-time favorite Lewis Black bit, this time about the infamous 2004 Super Bowl Halftime Show that featured Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake, and a particular wardrobe malfunction. The entire routine is much longer on the “Luther Burbank Performance Art Center Blues” CD, but the 8-minute portion here is still very very good. Lewis drops a lot of f-bombs and other bombs … VERY loudly. In other words, not safe for work or little ones.
Many people would argue that Samuel L. Jackson’s turn in Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction” was his breakout role. I would argue it came 3 years earlier in Spike Lee’s “Jungle Fever” playing Wesley Snipe’s crackhead brother Gator. Jackson’s performance was BEYOND f–king intense and earned an unprecedented Best Supporting Actor nod at the 1991 Cannes Film Festival. “Jungle Fever” is flawed (Spike Lee’s subsequent films “Malcolm X, “Get on the Bus,” “Summer of Sam,” “Bamboozled,” and “The 25th Hour” are arguably much better), but it has a lot of terrific virtues. This scene never fails to put a chill up my spine.
One of my favorite comedy bits of all time. Dan Brown be damned … Sam Kinison explains why Jesus was never married. Funny and profane in equal measures, but if you really think about it, Kinison was actually a true believer, f-bombs and all.
At some point, I’m going to write an essay on Robert Altman’s classic 1970 film “M*A*S*H” and how much this movie has meant to me over the years. It’s a film that seems even more shocking and subversive these days than it did when it first came out over 40 years ago. But the story behind the theme song “Suicide is Painless” is so damn interesting, it demands its own essay. Most people know the melody, as it played over the opening and closing credits of the TV show. But for those people who don’t know that the movie exists are usually genuinely shocked to hear that the theme actually has lyrics. Marilyn Manson once said that this is the most depressing song ever written. The lyrics are pretty despairing … but director Robert Altman would’ve probably said “Are you f–king kidding me?!?” to such sentiments.
The following story below is a summary of several anecdotes related in the positively amazing oral history / biography of director Robert Altman “Robert Altman: The Oral Biography” by Mitchell Zuckoff. (What?!? You don’t have a copy of this amazing book ?!?)
The impetus for writing the song came from a scene in the middle of the film where a dentist character, a legendary cocksman of the medical unit, finds himself impotent when he hooks up with a woman and concludes that he’s gay. As a result, he wants to commit suicide. His friends think this is utterly ridiculous and treat the dentist’s desire to kill himself with absurd humor. They hold a “last supper” that’s framed in the same way as Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous painting. Altman thought there was too much “dead air” in the scene and that it needed a song. Per Altman, “It’s got to be the stupidest song ever written.” The composer, Johnny Mandel, said “Well, we can do stupid.” Altman said “There’s too much stuff in this 45-year old brain of mine. I can’t get anything nearly as stupid as I need. But all is not lost. I have this kid who is a total idiot. He’ll run through this thing like a dose of salts.” Altman’s son Michael (who was reportedly 14 years old at the time) was asked by his father to write the lyrics and he wrote the lyrics in approximately 10 minutes. Altman’s son wrote some chords … Mandel added some others … and the song was a done deal.
For Michael’s trouble, he was paid $500 and 50% of the song. A few years after the movie came out, the TV series “M*A*S*H” came out and he got a check for $26. Then he received a second check for $130. And then the show went into syndication and Michael received a check for $26,000. And after all was said and done, Michael earned $2 million over the years for writing an allegedly really stupid song in just 10 minutes. To put this into perspective, his father Robert only received $75,000 for directing the movie … with no royalties or profits. Keep in mind that the movie “M*A*S*H” is considered one of the greatest film comedies ever made, was ranked #54 in the American Film Institute’s poll of the greatest American films ever made, was deemed “culturally significant” by the Library of Congress and was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry,won the Palme D’Or at that year’s Cannes Film Festival, was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director Oscars, and grossed the equivalent of $475 million in 2013 dollars.
Michael admitted that he squandered most of the money, failed to pay taxes because he was young and not money savvy, and then got into a lot of trouble with the IRS. Eventually, Michael had to declare bankruptcy and his father Robert bought the song for $30,000. So his father (and his estate) wound up with future royalties after the fact.
After several years, Michael admitted that he blames himself entirely for what happened and while that he’s written other songs, no others have been recorded or released. He advised by his standards, he never liked the song or was that impressed with it.
If you follow Dave Strange World, you’ve already heard the story about geeky grunge neighbor circa 1996 who liked to play what sounded like “Ted Bundy and Hitchhiker” with his goth girlfriend at all hours of the night … the the point where I had to drown them out with Sonic Youth’s “Daydream Nation” in another room in order to sleep. If you haven’t, then here’s the link:
But that’s not the only story about bizarre and annoying neighbors from that year. Upstairs from me were a group of other memorable neighbors …
There was what (I think) were a group of girls that were probably not college students, but likely had just graduated from high school. They were hideously unattractive, always wore jeans and tie-dyed shirts, and were always running up and down the balcony of the apartment complex laughing loudly and hysterically. I called them “The Manson Girls” because they always had that scary “laughing to disarm you because I’m about ready to stab you to death and write on the wall with your blood” type of air about them. One night, I saw them with multiple road signs (obviously stolen), screaming and laughing and running to their apartment upstairs. Another night … notably the first night I cooked dinner for my now wife of 15+ years … I had my windows open, because it was a very warm night and I had trouble opening a bottle of wine. The cork exploded loudly and then the “Manson Girls” came bursting into my apartment … giggling manically, as if they were joining a massive party already in progress … and begging me for money. Flabbergasted, I told them “F–K NO!” and to “Get the f–k out of my apartment!” Later, I felt self-conscious, and asked my future wife if I was too d–kish in my reaction (it was our 5th date, after all), but I seriously felt violated by these crazy people. I never had any interaction with them again … but later that summer, the lighbulb outside of my apartment was stolen. I’m not pointing fingers, but I place the blame on this with the Manson Girls. Seriously, a freakin’ lightbulb was 89 cents in 1996 dollars … and these future “guests of the state” I’m positive stole my light bulb.
There are many comedians with jaw-dropping Sam Kinison stories. And, trust me, ALL of these stories are jaw-dropping, because Sam, let’s be honest, was a total f–king maniac. But this story by Ralphie May is particularly funny, especially because he was only 17 at the time. This is one of my favorite stand-up crash-and-burn stories of all time. God bless Sam … and God bless Ralphie May, for that matter. Ralphie May has edged out a VERY VERY funny stand-up career in the years since.
This is the (in)famous live version of Van Morrison’s “Cyprus Avenue” from the concert that was recorded for the legendary “It’s Too Late to Stop Now” live album in 1974.
The original “Cyprus Avenue” from 1967’s “Astral Weeks” was a beautiful and wounded song about a man desperately in love with someone, but who can’t express himself to tell this person he loves her. The problem, you see, is that he’s a grown man and the person he’s in love with is a very, very young girl. And he’s “conquered in a car seat,” staring at her walking to school … Mmmkay … Despite the creepy subject matter, this is a great song, but I can’t say that it doesn’t also turn my stomach a bit. It’s a good thing Perverted Justice and Chris Hanson from Dateline NBC were not around in 1967 for Van’s sake.
Anyway, let’s cut to 1973 … Van is performing this song live. But Van is in full James Brown mode. And holy … f–king … s–t … does he give this solemn, sad song the full James Brown treatment! And it is one of the most amazing musical performances I’ve ever seen. Many people seem to only know the Van Morrison of “Moondance” and the corny “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?” phase of his career. But they forget that Van started out in the Irish garage punk band Them … or that the first version of “Madame George” (a sad song about an aging transvestite, also recorded for “Astral Weeks”) was originally a raunchy, nasty punk blues stomp recorded for the album “T.B. Sheets.” Believe it or not, before he became the Irish mystic troubadour, Van used to kick out the f–king jams. And this legendary performance of “Cyprus Avenue” proves it.
I heard this amazing insight writer/director/producer Judd Apatow had about his own neuroses on Marc Maron’s extraordinary WTF podcast from 2011. Maron asked him why they don’t feel any sense of joy and Apatow’s answer made perfect sense to me. What’s missing from the transcript below is hearing Apatow and Maron both laughing their asses off as Apatow is explaining this. And damn if I wasn’t laughing as well… for reasons that are obvious if you know me…
Marc Maron: Why are we so afraid of joy?
Judd Apatow: That’s the question, and I’ve thought about it a lot. And I think it’s because we think that right behind joy is a knife that will cut our throat. And if we feel it, it’s almost like a laugh, and you’re chin goes up, and you’re throat is exposed. And if I laugh too loud, someone will slit my throat. And so, that’s the terror of joy. If I enjoy this as completely as I want to, it’s gonna hurt when it goes wrong. And the mistake is, it hurts already. Keeping shut down is what really hurts. And so it doesn’t actually make sense, and if you have to think about it all the time to know that’s what’s happening. Like I’m not actually enjoying this. And then you’re not present because you’re waiting for a punch. That’s how I feel like. I feel like I have my dukes up all day long, looking for someone who’s going to punch me, and here’s the thing: no one ever punches me.”
P.S. You’re not allowed to say “That’s OK Dave, I’ll punch you” in response … Not because it’s not funny, but because I’ve already thought of it.
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