Noone Shoots Cars Like Australians

If you hadn’t worked it out by now, I like movies – a lot. It really makes no mind to me what genre, country or decade; I can find a lot of films that I have found a lot of enjoyment in (even, going against what I said on the sidebar, romcoms). But, part of me has always had a soft spot for exploitation cinema, or any sub genre that has dovetailed the suffix –ploitation onto whatever it is the film makers are exploiting: Canucks, Nazis, Cars, Blacks, Nuns, Midgets, Sex...nothing is safe from being exploited (hell, the film Alabama’s Ghost has been dubbed Everythingspoiltation). For those of you not familiar with the so-called exploitation genre, in a nutshell – Exploitation films have been around since the so-called Golden Days of Hollywood, but the “Golden Era” of the exploitation genre was roughly the late 60’s to mid 80’s (with a bit of a comeback, at least in spirit, over the past few years), anyway - a subject is taken and the stereotypes (real or imagined) are expanded and expounded for the subject of an often lurid, sometimes over dramatic, sometimes horrific story. The thing about exploitation cinema is, while it can encapsulate pretty much all “traditional” genres, they all have a low budget, almost guerrilla filmmaking feel to them.

Much like Canucksploitation (which played with every single Canadian stereotype there ever could be), the film I will be dealing with today also exploits the mores of a country - in this case, Australia. Yes, folks, today’s film is the recent Mark Hartley documentary Not Quite Hollywood.

Breaking down Ozploitation genre into three main sub-genres; sex, cars, horror – Hartley gets the story of many known and unknown examples of the kinds of films that came out of this crazy country from those who were there and those who wish they were. Opening with the political morass of the late 60’s, the film soon shows how young filmmakers of the day (much like their counterparts from around the world) embraced a politically-backed openness inspired by the perceived notion that Australian “culture” was a non-entity, especially within the film industry of the time (with only the occasional film being made here at the time).

Moving to the “first wave” of what would come to be known as Ozploitation (a phrase coined by Quentin Tarantino and Mark Hartley) – with sexually open, permissive and explorative films; many of which would be skirting “soft core”, even today; the movement opened with a pretty much open and honest portrayal of what was to come with films that dealt flat out with Australian attitudes of sexuality, coming about in opposition to Australia’s rather tight censorship laws and subsequent opening therein. Films such as The Naked Bunyip, Stork, the Barry McKenzie and Alvin Purple series amongst others showcased not only the embracing of this newly won openness of sexuality, but also of “ocker” Australian culture. Unfortunately, for me at least, being born around this time and having these characters somewhat worshiped as “real Aussies” (having these satires endorsed as legit hero worship has always made me a bit sad) helped form my cultural cringe. Needless to say, this movement eventually received a backlash, mainly from the same political quarters that allowed the opening to begin with, thus helping to inspire a more “cultured” series of films which dealt with moments of Australian history without the need to throw in some boobs.

From the original “open” movement, and it’s classier big brother (which actually lasted for most of the same period that the entire Ozploitation movement was enjoying its golden time), there was an introduction of more ‘genre’ films – those of a more horror/thriller bent, mirroring the rise in the same sort of films in the US and UK. Drawing inspiration more from Wake In Fright than those mentioned above, these films showed that Australian directors could more than hold their own in genres that were exploding all over the place. To me, this is where the movement truly came of age, essentially opening with Long Weekend and giving us great film like Patrick, Road Games, Razorback, Harlequin and even the Mad Max series; not only that, I feel that this is the period that has been the most influential. The genre period drew, as these films often do, from all manner of sub-sploitation areas – cars, nuns, nature, psychic horror, teens; you name it, nothing was off limits. Hell, these directors even made no secret of the other directors whose styles they were emulating (let’s face it, that is something that has been going on since the beginning of film).

The final movement that is covered is straight out, balls to the wall action. Moving concurrently to the more genre-centric, this gave rise to such films as Stone, the above-mentioned Mad Max, The Man From Hong Kong, Mad Dog Morgan (the film that caused Dennis Hopper to be banned from Australia for nearly 3 decades) and Turkey Shoot, as well as lesser actioners like BMX Bandits and The Return of Captain Invincible. Showcasing the most insane, over the top stunt based films of the era, these films just show that most of the names involved had no fear and gave no heed to things like safety and human limitations. If anything, this section just proves what the previous two had said – that Australian cinema could do what the rest were doing just as good, if not better, because – quoting the film “we didn’t really know what we were doing, we just kind of leapt into it and tried to shoot the living crap out of it”. And that really sums up the whole era.

In addition to the various movements within the overall genre, there are also quasi profiles on some of the bigger names that helped push it forwards – Barry Humphries, Tony Ginnane, Brian Trenchard-Smith and Grant Page not only get their stories told, but in places get to tell their side of the stories, too. And, while this isn’t a film that goes into that much of the film making process, it does cover a bit, but it is more about the film makers journey; in this case, many film makers all pretty much on the same journey – doing what they think will be entertaining because they don’t know any better.

To me, when it comes to documentaries – the hallmark of a great documentary is: once you have seen it, you want to do it. And Not Quite Hollywood makes me want to make insane genre films.

(oh, and for the record, I have seen about 30 of the films mentioned in this thing)

Just Because You Are Smart, Doesn’t Mean You Are Better

Today’s film is another documentary, and one I’ve been trying to watch all the way through for a while. Disclosure, I did try to watch this a few years back but switched off because it was making me angry. But, I figured, with this blog, I could try again. The film in question? Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room.

Everybody knows the joy that comes with making money, and have fantasised about making it hand over fist. But what happens when you DO make money that way, even if it comes in dirty – do you sit back and let it flow? Do you let it happen? This is the true story of men who did just that, and encouraged it to do so.

We have all heard about the Enron Scandal from a few years back, but how many of us actually read into it or the history behind it and its major players? In a nutshell: the collapse of Enron (the largest corporate bankruptcy in US history) lead to the reveal of large scale book cooking, with full knowledge of company CEOs Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling, as well as CFO Andrew Fastow, lead to criminal proceedings against Lay and other members of the Enron governing board and the ruination of many people’s lives. This documentary aims to reveal the “whys” and “hows” what happened with the collapse, what lead to it, and those affected by it.

Opening with the investigation into the suicide of Cliff Baxter, a high ranking Enron executive, the film immediately asks “who was responsible for the collapse of Enron?” and, (as any good documentary does), uses a series of interviews with many affected, from ex-staff to shareholders to politicians to industry experts as well as lots of well-documented archive footage to show that Enron basically collapsed under the weight of human greed, personal self-interest and preservation and good old fashioned hubris.

Once again, we see that human greed gets the better of some people who should have known better. I can’t fault people for being greedy, but with things on the scale of multi-billions of dollars, one would have to know that if shit goes bad, shit REALLY goes bad. And, as we all have seen, shit REALLY REALLY went bad and took down a lot of people, innocent and guilty.

What is shown in this documentary is that even as far back as the 80s Enron was practicing very shady business methods, in which a pair of stock and oil traders, Louis Borget (then company director) and Thomas Mastroeni (then company treasurer), were found to be syphoning of millions of dollars from and through Enron, eventually pleading guilty to conspiracy to defraud. Ken Lay, as was shown both in history and this documentary, however actively encouraged the two men to “keep making us millions”, even in the face of all investigations into the matter.

Following this scandal, and with the introduction of Jeff Skilling to the company, Enron began trading oil futures in a system known as “Mark To Market Trading”, which basically allowed to company to speculate its own profits at whatever level they speculated (for example, the company was able to book $53M in profits on the Blockbuster VOD broadband system, that actually failed to make any profit in the slightest). In addition to this, many other  business practices; good, bad and all points in between, were shown to be implemented, all of which helped to quicken the overall collapse.

Now, the phrase “history’s greatest monster” is thrown around quite a bit these days, but the so-called “smartest guys in the room” are monsters. Kenneth Lay really was an unconscionable, shown time and again to be more than willing to put profit by any means necessary above all else. Jeff Skilling is shown as a man so crippled by his own unfettered self image and willingness to implement very unpopular business practices, that in the end he really was his own best “yes-man” and worst enemy.

The collapse was not only at the hands of Lay and Skilling, though, as several other key players (including the late Cliff Baxter) are profiled and shown to have their fingers in the pie as well. Each of these players is shown as being more than willing to be “creative” in their profit gaining. In addition to the creativity inside the walls of Enron, some very long standing outside ties also contributed to the length of time in which Enron was allowed to play fast and loose with, well, everything,

The fact that there are people so blindly, or not-so-blindly, greedy and willing to put money at the apex of everything, regardless of the means makes me shake my head in confusion and anger. These are people who make Gordon Gecko look like a sane and rational human being. I can understand wanting to be the best, and that sometimes you have to be a little cut-throat, but to so willingly and so knowingly fuck over people’s lives to make a profit is just callous. These men were damn good at what they did, it’s just that what they did was not very good.

Dear Famous People, Please Don't Sue Me

Today, I’ll be reviewing a documentary. About a joke. Yes, a near two hour documentary, made by a comedian, featuring comedians, telling basically the same joke, over and over – but each putting a different spin on it. It’s a film that I have probably seen a dozen times since I first purchased it back in Aught Six.

Well, I hear you ask, what happens in it then? It doesn’t sound too exciting.

Wrong. A group of comedians have joined together to form a variety act – they call it a Family act, which I guess is accurate, since they all belong to the family of comedy. Well, anyway – George Carlin and Phyllis Dillier come in and start doing a soft shoe shuffle, which goes on for a little while; Michael McKean and Harry Shearer come on stage and join them. However, those two gents are dressed in assless chaps and don’t seem to be shy about it. So, they are shimmying around on stage, in what they call “A Tribute To Michael O’Donahue” when Carlin and Diller grab them and knee them violently in the crotch, dropping them to the floor and causing their bowels to release. Oh, I should tell you that the boys have been eating chilli and beans and food colouring all day, so when they blow, it’s like the Trevi Fountain. Ms Diller grabs an ankle of each spraying man and spins them around, causing the shit to spray all over the stage in wonderful patterns.

Now, after that, Robin Williams comes in wearing nothing but a grin and starts masturbating furiously, aiming his cock at the fallen comics and starts signing his name on their faces, if you get my drift. While this is going on, Joe Franklin and Sarah Silverman come into the audience from the back – Franklin chasing Silverman around the room while she runs from him, but really this is just a ruse to get the audience involved as both performers start sliding into various laps, eventually embracing each other in a world class display of frottage. By this time, Williams has ejaculated two or three times, pretty much covering all four comedians on stage, leading Drew Carey and Whoopie Goldberg to enter (stage left) dressed as vacuum cleaners. They clean up the cum (sometimes some of the bean shit, sometimes not) and suck it all down, usually they gargle it and do a little mouth to mouth cum juggling, which looks AMAZING.

Judy Gold, Lisa Lampenelli, Rita Rudner and Wendi Liebman dance on stage, painted up to look like The Rockettes, but you can clearly see that they are butt-ass naked and highly aroused. They start high kicking, causing feminine juices to fly all over, basically covering the first three rows of the audience. By this time, McKean, Shearer, Carlin and Williams have recovered (Ms Diller has it writ in her contract that she only appears in the first part of the show and the final curtain call, so she’s gone backstage by now) and grab our Rockettes, violently bending them over and, as one, violating the women’s anuses with their fists. Given that this act has been practiced for a while, the men ream the women up to their elbows and 1...2...3 they lift the ladies up and treat the audience to a puppet show version of “I’m A Believer” by The Monkees, while Billy The Mime acts out what has happened in the show so far, which is a real treat for the kids, let me tell you – especially when he gets to the puppet show and starts ramming his fist up his own ass. There isn’t a dry eye in the house when that happens.

In keeping with the Fun For The Whole Family aspects of the show, we try to include some magic in the act, so Penn from Penn and Teller and The Amazing Johnathon come on stage (sometimes literally, but that all depends on how long Whoopie and Drew keep juggling for)  and invite one lucky audience member up to help with a card trick. For the solve, Penn actually makes his regular partner - Teller, appear from INSIDE Johnathon, usually he erupts from Johnathon’s ass, crawling out like a newborn, which understandably causes Johnathon to lose control of his bladder and bowels and causes his stomach to prolapse, following Teller out of his now distended anus. So, Teller emerges – covered in shit and piss and organs, and hands the card to the audience member. They can keep that as a remembrance of their night.

At this point, the highlight of the show happens, whereby Gilbert Gottfried and Bob Saget run on stage (one from either wing), dressed as each other – I don’t know why they do that, but it’s just something they thought would work, and it kinda does. So, they run on stage, and dive into the mess, bellies first, shooting across the stage like a slip and slide. If you look carefully, you’ll see that they do this with their mouths wide open, so they can collect as much of the mixture as possible. From there, we get a little bit more gargling, which distracts from the fact that Emo Phillips, Fred Willard and The Smothers Brothers come out on stage, Phillips and Dick Smothers lining up behind Gilbert and Willard and Tommy Smothers behind Saget. Emo and Fred both remove the pants of the gargling gents as The Smothers Brothers do the same to the men in front of them. I don’t want to say too much of what happens here, but let’s just say it is our loving tribute to the movie The Human Centipede. You wouldn’t think this would look too good on stage, but thanks to a special lighting and X-Ray system, all six men are lit up in such a way that the audience can actually watch the mixture passing through from man to man. I’ve seen it in action and it is a real treat. And, set up at behind The Smothers Brothers is a blow up child’s swimming pool, so the men have some place to evacuate the mixture, which by now has been joined by whatever the 6 men have chosen to eat that day – there is no dietary restrictions in this act, so it’s always fresh. It keeps it exciting for the audience that way.

From here, we actually have our second appearance of Miss Sarah Silverman – she is a real sport and I think ties the whole show together. She comes back on stage in a bathing suit, one of those old 1920s style ones and dives into the kiddie pool. She is such a born showman, that she’ll usually do this without putting her hands out. So she dives in, face first, nine times out of ten knocking herself silly. Which is probably a good thing, because it helps her focus on something other than the sheer unadulterated pain of what comes next. Rick Overton comes out, dressed in nothing but a diaper and performs a short piece that he called “Thrib” – a reverse birth, whereby he coats himself in the mixture left in the pool and slowly wriggles, headfirst, into Sarah’s vagina. This is a process that he has got down to a science and can get his entire body into hers within 5 minutes. Yes, I know what you are saying, shouldn’t a reverse birth be feet first? We tried that, and let’s just say that is why Carrie Fisher is no longer on the show. So, Overton gets himself entirely into Sarah, only leaving his feet free so that you know it’s him.

After that, everyone comes back on stage, takes a bow and that’s your show.

“Well, what’s it called?”, I am still hearing you ask.

THE ARISTOCRATS!