The approach to the airport was through a maze of vertical green walls, mountains covered in foliage of the most brilliant green. The runway was short and ended at a river where people were busily tending to their laundry, as unconcerned over the approaching plane as was the air traffic controller, who was reclining on a bench outside the ramshackle terminal building. Dominica is not the Caribbean island you want to come to if you crave white sand beaches, clear turquoise waters, sprawling resort enclaves, or opulent amenities.
Our luck with volcanos had been disappointing. Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier — they had all veiled themselves coyly behind a impenetrable curtain of mist and rain and gale force winds that rendered seeing them, let alone hiking them, a fool’s errand. Yet again and again we tried. AT Crater Lake we expected finally to be rewarded for our perseverance. It was sunny and 70 degrees when we began the winding ascent up to the lake itself. It was 25, snowy, and covered in fog when we reached the top. Turned away by closed roads and regretful park rangers, we descended the mountain, and found once again at the base it was a gorgeous day, the sky dappled with dramatic clouds and slants of warming orange sunlight.
Tony Stark’s most famous suit is red and yellow and made of metal. Outside of that, the Stark of the Marvel Iron Man and Avengers movies dresses like a lot of modern tech billionaires: jeans and t-shirts. He has an affinity it seems also for wearing Under Armor as regular clothing, but we’ll not breach that subject for the moment. While Tony may have the tech industry billionaire’s casual disdain of the for dressing up, his hard-working foil in Iron Man 3, Guy Pearce’s Aldrich Killian, is not afforded the luxury of slovenliness.
We set out without any clear destination. Somewhere south of needing our passports, all precipitated by the simple desire to eat a hot dog. Roads were followed, state borders passed. From city to mountains to rolling hills, in observation of the living and the dead. Images from a drive through Connecticut, Rhode Island, Boston, the Sam Adams Brewery, Finger Lakes Distilling, and upstate New York, taking in everything from the grave of HP Lovecraft to Fort Ticonderoga to the House of Frankenstein Wax Museum, and plenty in between.
Hannibal is a meticulously designed show at every level, from the lighting to the presentation of the food, and of course to the clothing Mads Mikkelsen’s Hannibal Lecter wears. His choices in attire set him apart from those around him, an elite, elegantly assembled perfectionist in an era of business casual. Given how much thought is put into every aspect of the show’s presentation, it’s safe to assume that every suit and every accessory Hannibal dons possesses a thematic purpose. However, while Hannibal has been lauded for the smartness of his suiting, there is one thing about his attire that causes more controversy than his diet: the size of his tie knot.
Golgo 13 was (is) a long-running Japanese comic book aimed primarily at bitter guys in dead-end salaryman jobs who harbored daydreams of being tough-as-nails murderous sex machines but, in reality, were just nerdy guys reading a comic book on the train before they started a day full of kissing their boss’s ass and shouting out the company cheer. So, much like me, except we don’t have a company cheer that I know of. The series was created by an enterprising writer named Takao Saito, who got his big break in the business doing manga adaptations of the James Bond stories. Saito’s Bond comics were fully licensed components of the James Bond world, but they played fast and loose with the original books, often having very little to do with them other than the title and some character names (basically the same as what would happen to the movies).
Another Frolic Afield, this time back at The Cultural Gutter, where the month of April is dedicated to writing about something outside our usual purview, which for me is science fiction. So in The Worst Dressed Man in the Room, I am taking time out to look at Mad Men‘s worst dressed character, Michael Ginsberg, and what his dull clothing communicates about the fate of the man who was at one time creative challenger to Don Draper.
A new Frolic Afield at a new place. The Gentlemen’s Blog to Midnite Cinema is the written word supplement to the wildly popular Gentlemen’s Guide to Midnite Cinema podcast. And I am over there writing about Covert Action, the movie in which the Eurospy film collides with the Eurocrime film and brings Maurizio Merli along to slap some people.
There’s a problem often faced by those of us who chose to both watch and write about the Eurospy films of the 1960s: as enjoyable as they can be, and fun and breezy and cool, there is often very little that can be said about them in the form of an article. When you try to put finger to key and review one of these movies, you suddenly realize just how much of its run time — which was probably under ninety minutes to begin with — was taken up by fluff and filler. Travelogue footage, nightclub scenes, guys just walking through hotel lobbies while swinging music plays — all great stuff, but the visual appeal of these de rigueur accoutrements of swingin’ sixties spy cinema doesn’t often translate to having very much to say about a film, even when you’ve enjoyed it. Such is the case with Ypotron, a light and airy espionage adventure with sci-fi elements and almost no interest whatsoever in its own plot, so enamored is it instead with low-budget globe-trotting and extremely large hats.
Some years ago, a trio of colorful, contemplative, and sometimes a little bit absurd science fiction films from East German studio DEFA found their way onto home video in the United States. Of them, The Silent Star was the most beloved thanks to its combination of serious speculation and pop-art design, as well as the fact that it was familiar to many in its old dubbed and re-edited version, First Spaceship on Venus. In the Dust of the Stars was the most visually outrageous, combining the futurist aesthetic of the 1970s with the flared pleather jumpsuits and feathered mullets of the disco era. And Eolomea (which I reviewed as a guest writer for Die Danger Die Die Kill) was the most often ignored, with its more somber production design cribbed from Solaris and the message being less about the wonder and dangers of space travel and more about how boring and frustrating it can be. But even more ignored than Eolomea — so much so that it wasn’t even included in the set — was DEFA’s forgotten science fiction film, Signale — Ein Weltraumabenteuer.