Monthly Archives: March 2013

‘It’s Easy to Kill Live People’ – Psychomania: Part 3

The undead, unstoppable bikers have ridden straight into the police station to bust their friends of a cell. The copper on the desk is very cross and just a little bit frightened by these crazy kids, who haven’t even bothered to dismount from their bikes to confront him. What terror awaits? At this point, a lady walks past the bikers to exit the police station. She wants to know if she should shut the door. ‘Yes, please, Love!’ the desk policeman says. And then he goes back to being outraged/scared by the bikers. And hijinks ensue.

The last part of Psychomania is where logic goes completely out the window. It’s a pot-pourri of black comedy (a biker chirps, ‘I’ll be right down!’ before jumping off a 60s concrete town block), strangely slow stunt riding, curiously bloodless murder and just – well – suburban ordinariness.
In order to join Tom in being bored and annoying for all eternity, the gang start to off themselves one by one, in a series of increasingly ludicrous scenes. Jane and Hinky ride into a lorry. Only Jane comes back, as Hinky ‘didn’t believe’ enough. There’s drowning, jumping off things and sky diving sans parachute. Abby goes down the less dramatic route and takes some pills only to wake up in hospital with Robert Hardy standing over her. This is fortunate as Abby doesn’t want to die. She’s probably smart enough to work out that trashing the town centre will get a bit dull after the first century or so.

The police want Abby to be a decoy for them. Which strikes me as bad policing. Basically, Abby says ‘look I’m dead’, Jane says ‘no you’re not’ and Abby’s like, ‘yeah I am’ and Tom goes ‘right – ride into that wall then.’ And when she doesn’t, he suggests that he should kill her himself. Ah romance.

Oh and before all of that, the living dead (except Abby) Living Dead ride their bikes around in a supermarket and make a right old mess. Jane rides straight into a pram with a baby in it. Had this scene been realistic (and not happened in the middle of the bikers throwing cornflakes about and breaking glass bottles containing cordial and weak lemon drink) it might have been terrifying and horrible. But no – it’s just a freaky live action cartoon.

And so we get to the final showdown at the Seven Witches. Tom is advancing on Abby with a knife whilst the rest of the gang try to look menacing. Ah, but elsewhere Mrs Latham and Shadwell have decided it’s time to stop the madness. Their magic can defeat Tom’s Clap Your Hands If You Believe magic. And there’s are some weird special effects, some of which are unsettling in that classic Old Doctor Who way. Mrs Latham vanishes and the frog from the beginning of the film appears in her robes and then…

Um, well, Psychomania is like nothing less than a live-action super freaky cartoon. It’s got a weird atmosphere that draws you in somehow. I like it, but I couldn’t really explain why. The director, Don Sharp, was also responsible for some 60s Hammers which I haven’t seen but feel like I really should.

So cultish is Psychomania that its (funksome, rocksome and eerie) soundtrack has its own story. An account of how it was tracked down and released by Trunk Records in the early 2000s can be found here. (Note: There’s a fairly good chance that there will be a vintage naughty picture – bosoms or hairy man-thighs – at the top of the Trunk website.) And it’s also possible to visit some of the sites of biker mayhem. Don’t look for the Seven Witches standing stones though. They were only pretend.

E.M.

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‘He rode that sweet machine just like a bomb’ – Psychomania: Part Two

The locked room, then. So, Tom’s in there and has been given a huge pair of glasses to wear. These are not explained. There is a flashback in which a pleasingly be-hatted Mrs L, with her infant son in tow, meets up with a man in a black cape at the standing stones and signs some sort of contract. The cape wearer is presumably either the devil or the God of big sideburns, but whoever he is he’s wearing a nifty ring with a frog design on it.

From all of this, Tom infers (and his mother confirms) that the secret to coming back from the dead is just to believe that you will come back. With this new-found knowledge, Tom gets on his bike again and they ride around the town centre, knocking things over, pestering hot pant wearing young mums. A few grown-ups say, ‘Geddoutofit’ and the Fuzz are nowhere to be seen.

And at the end of this suburban rampage, Tom speeds off and rides straight off a bridge. Two minutes later, his body bods up out of the river only to be discovered by two cute children (apparently straight out of a Ladybird book) who seem quite non-plussed by the discovery of a corpse.

And so Abby puts a frock (one of those fantastic polyester based numbers) and visits Ma Latham, who doesn’t seem to be that bothered about her son’s death. Perhaps she knows something is going to happen. Mrs L gives the gang consent to bury Tom in their own way. And then…

Oh dear God, the funeral scene. It’s batty. And brilliant. In a very odd sort of way. At the ‘Seven Witches’ standing stones, The Living Dead all dress like hippies and sensitively play with flowers. Chopped Meat, who once his out of his leathers reveals himself to be a slender wisp of a folky boy who probably couldn’t actually chop anything bigger than a slab of ultra-thin turkey without help, strums a guitar and sings a folk song called ‘Riding Free’. And it’s revealed that Tom has been buried on top of his bike in a very shallow hole. How does he stay on there? Sticky backed plastic? Presumably someone had to fish Tom and his bike out of the water separately, so did the same person then sit him up on the bike before rigor mortis set in. And why isn’t the bike rusty? And why…

‘Riding Free’ is a pleasant bit of Donovan-esque strumming and fittingly the lyrics make no sense at all. There’s a lot about Tom’s general sticking it to The Man, who as the song says, ‘tried to clip his wings just like a fly.’ Who clips a fly’s wings? Who’s got clippers small enough?

Anyway, so Tom is left to presumably rot (or get vandalised) in his half dug grave and the gang disperse. Cut to a couple in a broken down car. The man decides to take a sort cut to the garage across the Seven Witches. So he does. Cue the sound of revving.

Now, here’s the thing – Tom has come back from the dead but aside from the fact that he can’t be killed he doesn’t seem to have any special powers. And what does he want to do now he’s back from the world of shadows? Erm, much the same as before really – knocking things over, riding too fast, being a bit of a dick – only this time with some added (and curiously bloodless) murder. The hapless garage hunter is the first to die and then Tom’s on to a pub (with the verger from Dad’s Army behind the bar) where he rings his Mum (‘Well, I’m dead, Mother, but aside from that never better!’) and gets a young lady to buy him a drink.

Unfortunately, the lady is a bit too interested in getting onto the back of Tom’s bike so she becomes his next victim, along with (we find out later) several other people. But not to worry – the cops have called in a Police Inspector, played by Robert Hardy (either the sensible one from All Creatures Great and Small or the Ministry of Magic dude from the Harry Potter films, depending on your age) and he’s going to sort all of this out. By driving around really slowly. In a Morris Minor. Ah, the 70s.

The Living Dead are befuddled and somewhat thrilled to see their leader resurrected. Hatchet is so excited, he knifes Tom in the back to no discernable effect. ‘You can only die once.’ Tom says. This makes the gang decide that being undead is pretty groovy. And in order to make themselves undead, they go off to make themselves, um, dead.

Next time: Suicide is (not) painless! Take that, Fine Fare! Cheap but strangely creepy Special Effects! And don’t worry – we see the frog again!

E.M

‘Hello, little green friend’ – Psychomania: Part One

Late at night in 1994, whilst flicking channels in search late night music videos and dubious anime, I came across the BBC 2 Moviedrome screening of Psychomania. A British 70s cult film in the freakiest, silliest possible sense of the word, Psychomania contains motorbikes, satanic magic, frogs and Beryl Reid. And some highly memorable bits of oddness. Needless to say, it left quite an impression on me. I was dreaming about standing stones and scenes of bikes hitting lorries and being ridden off bridges for quite some time.

Re-watching it now, I’m struck by how it’s not quite comedy, not quite horror, but it is very enjoyable. It’s not entirely clear if the film’s taking the piss or not, which makes it all the more fun.

The plot of Psychomania*, concerns a gang of bikers called The Living Dead. They wear pretty funky skull designed motorbike helmets and have their names on their jackets. Tom (Nicky Henderson) is their side-burned posh-boy leader. Abby (Mary Larkin) is his Ziggy-haired girlfriend. There’s also Jane, the red-jacketed thrill minx. And some boys called called Chopped Meat, Gash, Hinky, Hatchet and Bertram. Yes – Bertram. Is that his real name? Or is it just possible that his real name is even less cool than Bertram?

Anyway, that’s the Living Dead and their main sources of entertainment are causing accidents and riding around their local town centre knocking things over. Outrageous. Post delinquency, Tom and Abby have a snogging session when he’s distracted by a very large frog. Which he captures, places in his inside pocket and THE KISSING RESUMES. It’s established that Abby is a bit more sensible than the rest of the gang (when Tom suggests they kill themselves, she says that she can’t as she’s promised her Mum to help with the shopping tomorrow), but she doesn’t seem to be so bothered about the amphibian in Tom’s leather jacket at an amorous moment. Young people, eh?

Anyway, the frog survives (who knows, maybe it thought of the biker lovin’ as some sort of funfare ride) whatever happens next, as Tom gives it to his dear old Mum as a gift. Mrs Latham (Beryl Reid), lives in some kind of super modern (1973 modern) mansion with her possibly immortal butler, Shadwell (George Saunders) and likes to give seances for free whilst burning black candles. She’s pleased with the frog but tells Tom that she’s quite concerned that the police have been in touch about the gang’s antics. (‘The FUZZ, Mother!’ says Tom, in an attempt to educate her in the ways of yoof.)

Tom isn’t bothered about that. But he is quite bothered about death. Or more specifically how to die and come back from the dead. He asks Shadwell to tell him the secret of the living dead. The real living dead, that is, not Tom’s posse of puddle splashing hoodlums. Shadwell and Ma Latham decide it’s time to introduce Tom to ‘the locked room’. The room in which Tom’s father died. Whilst, I dunno, mucking about with evil or something like that…

*This is the UK title. In the US, it was called The Death Wheelers and was released on video as Death Wheelers are…Psycho Maniacs. The German title was ‘Der Frosch’ – The Frog.
**Psychomania has a PG-Rated approach to sex. Unless you count Tom’s tight trousers.

Next time: The locked room! Bad riding! Folk music! And an unusual burial!

E.M.

They mostly come at night. Mostly.

So let’s talk about Newt.

I recently rewatched the first two Alien films after quite a few years. Living in internet nerd culture as I do, I felt deeply familiar with these movies despite my relative lack of that familiarity. Game over, man! Get away from her, you bitch! There are aspects of the films that have settled deeply into pop culture. And one of the things that everyone knows, so much so that it makes people defend Alien 3 (ugh), is that Newt is apparently really annoying.

So sitting down to watch, I was expecting the kid to be shrill, or whiny, or badly-acted. Any of the things that can happen to make children irritating in film. And I was completely surprised. She’s well-acted, she’s amusing, she’s about the only rational actor in the whole film and she’s certainly less whiny than Hudson, brilliantly played by Bill Paxton as a combat veteran so completely unmanned by the failure of firepower that all he can do is cry about how they’re all going to die this time, really guys, he means it.

If the Sulaco’s marines had taken Newt aside and asked her how she survived for weeks without getting caught, maybe they would have been luckier. All I can suppose is that the ‘nerd narrative’ on Newt was written by people who, when they saw Aliens, were little boys. And there’s not much that reads as annoying to little boys as little girls. Would the child be so disliked if it had been the brother who survived instead of the sister? I doubt it, even if the girl does have a scream that can shatter glass.

Also, considering how powerfully feminist Aliens is, I’m amazed nerds like it as much as they do. The finale is two women fighting over a little girl, the men rendered helpless. You don’t see a lot of that.

‘Where ARE my doggie-woggies?’: Theatre of Blood

1973’s Theatre of Blood is the prince of horror-comedies. And if it actually was a prince it would be an indecisive Danish one. The ‘haha’/’erk’ balance is a difficult one to get right, but this film manages it splendidly. The splendid story-telling helps – Vincent Price is prime ham Edward Lionheart, back from a faced suicide to take his blood vengeance on the pompous theatre critics who denied him a ‘Best Actor’ award.
The critics are offed in series of Grand Guinol Shakespeare homages. George Maxwell (Michael Horden) is stabbed like Julius Caesar. The fantastically named Horace Sprout (Arthur Lowe)* loses his head, Cymbeline style. There’s death by wine barrel, death by hairdo** and death by poodle pie***. And for all of the horrible things that Lionheart and his daughter Edwina (Diana Rigg) get up to, you can’t help but enjoy their villainous crusade.
Vincent Price seems to be enjoying himself so much that you can see the glee beneath his theatrical pan-stick. There’s a flashback sequence in which he recites the ‘To be or not to be’ speech whilst the Critic’s Circle sneer and applaud sarcastically. You can’t help but feel sorry for poor old over-acting Lionheart. Price’s version of the speech manages to be both suitably OTT and strangely moving. Prior to a bonkers fencing match (with trampolines) he sneers at the one vaguely decent critic Devlin (Ian Hendry), ‘What do you know of the blood, sweat and toil of a theatrical production?’
Early on in the film, Devlin receives a beautifully wrapped package apparently from his fellow critic, Dickman****. The attached note reads, ‘I am sorry to miss the meeting, but my heart is with you.’ Of course, the package is really from Lionheart and it contains – well, Dickman’s heart. It’s not subtle, but it is funny. And genuinely icky.
Director Douglas Hickox gets the right balance of camp and darkness, which fits Anthony Granville-Bell’s wonderfully. This film is a genuine one-off. ‘Lionheart is immortal!’ Price proclaims. It’s hard to disagree.
*Poor Devlin opens his front door the morning after to find poor Sprout’s head perched on top of a milk bottle. I felt a bit sorry for Sprout. He is Captain Mainwaring, after all. And in Theatre of Blood, he’s married to the 80s BBC incarnation of Miss Marple (Joan Hickson).
**Miss Chloe Moon (Coral Browne) gets electrocuted by a booby-trapped hairdryer, in homage to Joan of Arc’s death in Henry VI: Part One. Browne and Price later married. Insert ‘sparks fly’ gag here.
***Robert Morley’s character, Merridew, unwittingly eats his beloved poodles.
****Yes, Dickman. And guess what? The character’s a big old letch and is easily lured to his Merchant of Venice inspired doom by Edwina and her go-go boots.

E.M.

Under Siege!

What follows is a very silly thing I wrote some years ago. It was tempting to put it elsewhere on the internet and claim it was the first few pages of the original shooting script for Under Siege.

    Under Siege! (Or Under Siege 1: Siege Siege-ier)

ON BOARD THE BATTLESHIP UNCONVINCING, SHOUTY GARY BUSEY IS GIVING THE CREW THEIR ORDERS

Shouty Gary Busey: Hey! I want everything to be right for the Captain’s birthday party. I don’t want us to be UNDER SIEGE or anything.

Steven Seagal: I am a totally a chef. I worry about the pies I am cooking to hilarious comic effect. Plus, I am great at kicking ass. If we were ever UNDER SIEGE I would save us all.

Shouty Gary Busey: Right, that’s it. I’m locking the chef in the meat locker. Hey, Rooky cannon fodder sailor?

Rooky Cannon Fodder Sailor: Sir, yes sir!

Shouty Gary Busey: Lock him away away. And don’t let him out. Not if the pies are burning. Not if the ship’s UNDER SIEGE. You got it?

Rooky Cannon Fodder Sailor: Sir, yes sir!

Steven Seagal (From inside the cupboard): Grrr. What about the pies? They will soon be UNDER SIEGE from the heat in the oven.

LATER. TOMMY LEE JONES AND BAYWATCH LADY ARE ON BOARD THE UNCONVINCING.

Baywatch Lady: I hate boats! I only like kittens! Why have you brought me here? Why am I in this film?

Tommy Lee Jones: You’re here to flash your nips and shriek.

Baywatch Lady: Cool – I can totally do that. My body will be like, UNDER SIEGE from the eyes of the sex starved seamen.

LATER STILL. A CRAZY PARTY OF CRAZINESS IS HAPPENING WITH BEER AND EVERYTHING

Shouty Gary Busey (Who is in drag): Look! I am in lady clothes How hilarious!

Sailors: What fun! He is dressed as a woman, but is actually a man! Woo! I am so not attracted to him at all.

Tommy Lee Jones: (Playing the harmonica). Hey fellas! I love music! Soon you will all be UNDER SIEGE from my music.

Sailors: Yeah!

(ROCKING OUT COMMENCES).

Tommy Lee Jones: Hey. Who’s the most senior officer here apart from Shouty Gary Busey.

Unfortunate Extra: Yeah. That’d be me. If we were UNDER SIEGE I’d be in charge.

(Tommy Lee Jones shoots the Unfortunate Extra in the face).

Everyone: Oh fuck! We’re UNDER SIEGE!

Shouty Gary Busey: (Removing his wig) You’re UNDER SIEGE. I am not UNDER SIEGE. Cos I’m in on the whole thing! I am a baddie! And I’m still wearing a skirt. And bad lipstick. But now I have removed my wig. Cos it was making me look ridiculous. Therefore, might lead you to forget that you are UNDER SIEGE!

(MEANWHILE)

Steven Seagal (Having just escaped from the cupboard using the twin powers of Buddhism and being fighty): My pies are burning!!! Damn you Shouty Gary Busey! What’s all that noise…surely we’re not…UNDER SIEGE!

E.M.

‘Once a week’s enough for any man!’* – Sex Education via the Carry On films

The Carry On films. Classic rainy Sunday viewing since forever. All PG rated family fun. I certainly saw enough of them when I was very young indeed.  I will occasionally re-watch some of the better ones (especially ‘Khyber’ and ‘Screaming*’) when they’re on ITV3. Actually, to be honest, I’ll re-watch some of the rubbish ones too, even though I’ll probably wince until my face hurts.

Growing up in the 80s, the media’s messages about sex were somewhat confused. You catch watch a Hollywood film, which implied it was a sort of secret sport with bragging rights and then cut to an ad break where a John Hurt voiceover would tell you that you could ‘die of ignorance’ or images of grey ice bergs. The Carry On films suggest that sex is can be dangerous too, but only if your wife, Joan Sims (or Hattie Jacques), finds out that you’ve been thinking about having it with a glamorous young lady who isn’t her.

There’s a lot of innuendo in the Carry Ons. Certainly far more thinking about shagging, than actual shagging. And of course, they didn’t show any actual rumpy-pumpy (I haven’t seen Carry On, Emmanuelle – yes, a parody of the kind of softcore film in which everybody is an ambassador of some kind – it was a certificate ‘15’ so there might have been some actual rudery there) – instead, sex would usually involve a man making a growling noise and advancing rapidly towards the lady. The scene would then cut to something unrelated or might stay in the same scene just to show a man hiding in a bush and saying something like, ‘Corrrrr!’

Oh and another important lesson from Carry On films and indeed lots of comedy is that bosoms are always hilarious. Like having a mini-bouncy castle with man luring abilities strapped to your chest at all times. Penises, however, are something which can only ever be alluded to, usually with a comedy sound effect to suggest their presence.

A lot of the characters in Carry-On are very interested sex (even though ones who didn’t seem to like it), but very few of them would actually get any. The act of ‘How’s Your Father’ was something that happened once in a while with a big old build-up***.  Like a bank holiday trip to the seaside, but with more gurning and less ice cream.

I’m surely someone’s probably done it, but I reckon there’s an interesting study to be made in the representation of British culture in the Carry On films. The franchise ran between the fifties and the seventies (and, yes, there was Carry on Columbus in 1992, but that was just…well, have you seen it?) a long enough period of take in a lot of social change. When it gets to the later period Carry Ons, it becomes obvious that the writers are from a previous generation. Hence the dismissal of hippies in Carry On Camping, feminists in Carry On Girls*** and unions in Carry On At Your Convenience. And the odd depiction of sex fits in with all of this. It sort of slips in. Round the back. *Cue jaunty tuba music.*

*This is Hattie Jacques’s lovely response to Kenneth Williams confessing that he was ‘once a weak man’ in Carry On Doctor.

*Carry on Screaming is ace. An affectionate Hammer Horror parody, which take place in a parallel universe in which Kenneth Williams is Peter Cushing.

** (Insert Sid James guffaw or Barbara Windsor giggle here).

***In which June Whitfield plays a formidable lady called ‘Mrs Prodworthy’.

E.M.