two marigolds
Oh jesus fucking christ.
I just watched Easy Rider for the first time ever.
Cos you know me, I hate Seventies films. I hate the clothes, I hate the hair, I hate the morality. And most of all, I hate how fucking icky they are. They always leave me feeling violated and wanting to scrub my skin off and scrub my brain out. Hello, Firecreek!
Hence me refusing to watch Easy Rider for decades even though I have always had a soft spot for Peter Fonda cos how could I not? And yeah, it is quite lame how this finally came about. Cos last week I rented out Wild Hogs on a total silly whim, wanting to watch some sort of comedy about masculinity. And plus, you know, bikes. Always a yummy thing.
I finished Wild Hogs with the thought of "Hokay, now I GOT to see Easy Rider. I just gotta. It's time."
And I have to admit it shitted me off for about the first half an hour. Cos argh god how much do I hate the lack of music in Sixties and Seventies films. I mean, the total lack of any incidental score, the absolute oppressive silence over a scene of minimum dialogue and utterly excruciatingly boring action. I'm sure that says a whole lot about my particular generation of film watchers and all the subtle ways we're conditioned to respond to musical cues, having our senses stimulated. But god, it shits me! And part of me recognises exactly what they're doing and why they're doing it, that maybe I'm meant to be bored and uncomfortable but god it just SHITS me! It borders on amateurish, is what. Too often done badly. Oof!
So yeah, that first scene confirmed all my worst fears and I did actually contemplate turning it off. But I knew that if I did stop, I would never go back. Like Wings Of Desire. Still haven't gone back to that mindnumbing frustrating experience.
And then aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh bike!porn ... *melts happily* And when the music kicked in, oh man it was awesome. So yeah, I made peace with the oppressive silence cos it was so beautifully complemented with the absolutely perfect, occasionally hysterically funny, and just Awesome score. Cos you know me, I love Seventies music. *lol*
And then I was just charmed, man. Okay yeah, the stoner conversation in that first scene with the commune guy made me go "Oh, for fuck's sake!" but then once we got to the commune, the heart of the film really began to unpack itself to me. And god, the idealism and the innocence ... oh man. *clutches heart*
And how utterly beautiful and golden and incorruptible was our Captain America, beautiful golden eyebrowless Peter Fonda who looks so much more like his mum than his dad but still there's that certain elegant hardness that is sooooo Fonda. *sighs* I did wonder at how he managed to go the entire film in such sweltering conditions wearing those leather trousers. Poor chap(ped), Fonda Jr.
I couldn't quite buy the notion of Jack Nicholson never having done a joint. But argh I forgot how genuinely sexy that man used to be, his actual face I mean, not just his leering debauched manner. I wonder how effective an actor he would be if you shaved his eyebrows off. But oh man, loved the Southern accent, how very different he sounded. And yeah, though I am totally conditioned to suspect Jack Nicholson of nefarious agendas at every turn, it was sweetly refreshing to see him Not be an arse for once.
Yeah, this film is quite an interesting one for someone of my generation to watch, isn't it?
LOVED the acid trip. God, that was perfect, every little bit of it. And all that gorgeous religious symbolism in the lush lovely whorehouse. And the totally authentic street filming of Mardi Gras. That looked so wonderful, the changed colouring. I do wonder how I would have coped with the odd scene transitions if I hadn't already read Dennis Hopper saying he did it deliberately cos he just couldn't be arsed learning how to edit properly. I rather liked it. :p
And yes, the violence did happen and the sex did happen but I am really impressed --- and glad! --- that it was quite tastefully handled. Well, here and now it seemed quite tasteful. No gratuitous tit shots, no violent fucking, no rape. And even when the violence happened, it was so well shot, fast and quick and incomprehensible and never ever pornographic. Beautifully done.
No wonder I just screamed at the end.
God.
Even though I kinda knew from general pop culture osmosis how they both end up, the way it happened ... oh christ. Random senseless vicious ... god. Yeah, I do feel a bit traumatised ... but in a good way, a necessary way. Oh man.
Okay, technically it's 1969. But still.
Definitely a film I'd watch again and possibly buy to own, to analyse over and over again and read all the existing analyses, compare and contrast and all that lovely wanky arty stuff. Just not yet.
What I want to see right now --- Right Now! --- is Ulee's Gold. God, how much I loved that film. Learnt it, memorised every frame, every shift of mood. I knew that film inside out. My video store told me it's not available in Australia, whatthefuck. No way in hell is that allowed. I have to own it.
God, I'm still shaken.
I just watched Easy Rider for the first time ever.
Cos you know me, I hate Seventies films. I hate the clothes, I hate the hair, I hate the morality. And most of all, I hate how fucking icky they are. They always leave me feeling violated and wanting to scrub my skin off and scrub my brain out. Hello, Firecreek!
Hence me refusing to watch Easy Rider for decades even though I have always had a soft spot for Peter Fonda cos how could I not? And yeah, it is quite lame how this finally came about. Cos last week I rented out Wild Hogs on a total silly whim, wanting to watch some sort of comedy about masculinity. And plus, you know, bikes. Always a yummy thing.
I finished Wild Hogs with the thought of "Hokay, now I GOT to see Easy Rider. I just gotta. It's time."
And I have to admit it shitted me off for about the first half an hour. Cos argh god how much do I hate the lack of music in Sixties and Seventies films. I mean, the total lack of any incidental score, the absolute oppressive silence over a scene of minimum dialogue and utterly excruciatingly boring action. I'm sure that says a whole lot about my particular generation of film watchers and all the subtle ways we're conditioned to respond to musical cues, having our senses stimulated. But god, it shits me! And part of me recognises exactly what they're doing and why they're doing it, that maybe I'm meant to be bored and uncomfortable but god it just SHITS me! It borders on amateurish, is what. Too often done badly. Oof!
So yeah, that first scene confirmed all my worst fears and I did actually contemplate turning it off. But I knew that if I did stop, I would never go back. Like Wings Of Desire. Still haven't gone back to that mindnumbing frustrating experience.
And then aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh bike!porn ... *melts happily* And when the music kicked in, oh man it was awesome. So yeah, I made peace with the oppressive silence cos it was so beautifully complemented with the absolutely perfect, occasionally hysterically funny, and just Awesome score. Cos you know me, I love Seventies music. *lol*
And then I was just charmed, man. Okay yeah, the stoner conversation in that first scene with the commune guy made me go "Oh, for fuck's sake!" but then once we got to the commune, the heart of the film really began to unpack itself to me. And god, the idealism and the innocence ... oh man. *clutches heart*
And how utterly beautiful and golden and incorruptible was our Captain America, beautiful golden eyebrowless Peter Fonda who looks so much more like his mum than his dad but still there's that certain elegant hardness that is sooooo Fonda. *sighs* I did wonder at how he managed to go the entire film in such sweltering conditions wearing those leather trousers. Poor chap(ped), Fonda Jr.
I couldn't quite buy the notion of Jack Nicholson never having done a joint. But argh I forgot how genuinely sexy that man used to be, his actual face I mean, not just his leering debauched manner. I wonder how effective an actor he would be if you shaved his eyebrows off. But oh man, loved the Southern accent, how very different he sounded. And yeah, though I am totally conditioned to suspect Jack Nicholson of nefarious agendas at every turn, it was sweetly refreshing to see him Not be an arse for once.
Yeah, this film is quite an interesting one for someone of my generation to watch, isn't it?
LOVED the acid trip. God, that was perfect, every little bit of it. And all that gorgeous religious symbolism in the lush lovely whorehouse. And the totally authentic street filming of Mardi Gras. That looked so wonderful, the changed colouring. I do wonder how I would have coped with the odd scene transitions if I hadn't already read Dennis Hopper saying he did it deliberately cos he just couldn't be arsed learning how to edit properly. I rather liked it. :p
And yes, the violence did happen and the sex did happen but I am really impressed --- and glad! --- that it was quite tastefully handled. Well, here and now it seemed quite tasteful. No gratuitous tit shots, no violent fucking, no rape. And even when the violence happened, it was so well shot, fast and quick and incomprehensible and never ever pornographic. Beautifully done.
No wonder I just screamed at the end.
God.
Even though I kinda knew from general pop culture osmosis how they both end up, the way it happened ... oh christ. Random senseless vicious ... god. Yeah, I do feel a bit traumatised ... but in a good way, a necessary way. Oh man.
Okay, technically it's 1969. But still.
Definitely a film I'd watch again and possibly buy to own, to analyse over and over again and read all the existing analyses, compare and contrast and all that lovely wanky arty stuff. Just not yet.
What I want to see right now --- Right Now! --- is Ulee's Gold. God, how much I loved that film. Learnt it, memorised every frame, every shift of mood. I knew that film inside out. My video store told me it's not available in Australia, whatthefuck. No way in hell is that allowed. I have to own it.
God, I'm still shaken.