Archive for June 2010
All ruins have some degree of sentimental mystery to them – Why was this place left to decay? What kind of lives were lived out here, long ago? – but there’s something about places of performance that carries an extra shot of melancholy. A breathtaking slideshow awaits at AbandonedTheaters.com.
So Stray and I kind of got on a kick from that last post and dug around YouTube for some more late-night femme fatales who have a taste for slutty clothes and relentless puns.
Somebody who really belonged in that last post, but I didn’t find this clip until afterward…
Vampira! Here’s the intro to her 1954 show. Her fog-covered hallway is something out of a beautifully bad dream, and I’m dying to see what the rest of her set looks like – she alone holds the honor of a genuinely eerie atmosphere, a gorgeous black and white erotic doom melted over in future decades by a relentless downpour of cheese. Not that the vampire Velveeta of the 80’s isn’t tasty, but it’s wonderful to see it all back when there was a bit of horror artistry to it.
The clip from Ed Wood where Ed begs her to be in his movie. The hair, the dress – TO DIE.
I completely forgot about Elvira’s reality show that was on, ah, three years ago. Which is actually quite a little primer on what makes for a good horror hostess – it may look like a skimpy dress and bad jokes are the only job requirements, but this flock of strutting hopefuls demonstrates how you can miss the mark in all kinds of ways. A stupid outfit – rushed and robotic delivery – letting someone else steal your limelight – playing dumb a little too well – anybody looking to get in front of the midnight camera would be well-advised to watch this show for a solid dose of Do’s and Don’ts. Here’s all four episodes on Hulu.
Here’s an vamp from Kansas City, whose show ran throughout the 80’s – Crematia Mortem, whose name just prompted me to Google “horror hostess name generator.” (Of which there appear to be none.) Love the echo on her voice, and if that trick she’s doing with her eyes towards the end of the clip is not the work of special effects, then this is an individual who truly earned her b-movie queen crown.
Here’s Midnite X, “The Supernatural Sista of Horror.” Her show is “Midnite Screams” – unfortunately, there’s not a lot of info on this one, other than it came out in 2008. She is fab, considering it looks like she’s working with just a blue screen. Somebody get this woman a red velvet fainting couch! Love her cute little updated blood-countess outfit, and in true horror hostess tradition, she targets flicks from a couple decades past – which means her turf is the 80’s. More, more!
Lastly, the intro to 1983’s “Creature Feature,” from Channel 56 in Boston. Which actually looks a lot more 70’s, IMO – very prog-from-hell with the SF-novel font, polarized monsters, agitated bass, and slavering announcer. LOVE it.
As always, clips of a similar nature are always welcome on this blog. Feel free to send in your own dark, weird, and low-budget treasures, dear readers.
Went into the city for a wander around Times Square, a good place to engage in night photography – getting enough light is not a problem in that part of town. Trying to manage between the light meter, the focus, and worthwhile subjects is giving me a whole new level of respect for Brassai, because it’s all making me want to run screaming back to my point-and-shoot, but no. I *will* learn.
As always, characters. The pack of young actory guys with their leader on acoustic guitar, singing their way through the station in three-part harmony. The security guard at Rockefeller Center asking about my tattoo and trying to assuage my disappointment at the construction keeping me from a very specific shot of Prometheus that I really, really want. The dancing girl at Union Square, dressed in black, pretending to take my picture.
I wandered into a Forever 21 and snagged a horrendous rhinestone and chain fringe necklace just because it was midnight and it was open and I could. I read fairytales on the subway and stopped by Barcade on the way home and kicked some dude’s ass at Joust.
Now, a huge blister on my right foot. Hair wet from the shower. A stack of PostSecret books on my bed that made me get all misty-eyed and sad in a good way earlier today. Genesis “It’s Gonna Get Better” playing softly on the speakers. Sleep, soon.
Something I ran across in a book of art nouveau jewelry that I think would look gorgeous tattooed on a shoulder. It’s cute, but in a sophisticated way, using all that negative space to suggest moonlit woods. I would love to see more goth artists/designers pick up on this style of elegant minimalism, I’ve grown weary of skulls with bows on their heads.
I’m still searching for the drug that can trigger the switch which will allow euphoria its rightful position as a top contender in the war of my emotions.
-Lydia Lunch, Will Work for Drugs
There is such a thing as Whitesnake Wine..
Y’know, David Coverdale was already quite an unappetizing specimen 23 years ago, when he was running around in rock videos playing the weathered, sensitive loverman with a wild side. Oh yes, I remember that wild side so well. It was on constant display. “Sex! Sex! I am sexxxay! Look, I’m making out with Tawny Kitaen! See my tongue?!” I do not need my precious headspace scarred any further by contemplating “the spicy essence of sexy, slippery Snakeyness.” Also, it’s zinfandel.
And “hot tub jollies” sounds like something straight out of Bloom County.
I need something pretty to clear my mind of those highly upsetting images…
OK, I feel better.
Years and years ago, I started a habit of drag and dropping pictures into a now-bulging folder full of amazing imagery. Evening gowns, vintage Halloween art, graffiti, cute little animals that make me happy when I look at them, I got tired of kicking myself searching around and around the internet for something that at the time seemed like merely momentary interest.
It’s a really good idea to hang on to things that turn your head – not only do you have a ton of reference material when you’re ready to get a tattoo or decorate your bedroom, it lets you see how much your tastes have evolved over time.
I’m constantly saving pics of interesting people or places that have potent storytelling possibilities. I just discovered WebUrbanist, which is chock-full of urban/abandoned/natural atmospheres, and I’ve just begun digging through their archives:
Wow Chow: 10 Radical Restaurant, Bistro, and Cafe Designs. Isn’t this gorgeous? It’s a New Zealand restaurant in a tree. I love how it’s just starting to get dark and the lights have probably just come on. It’s a good setting for a urban fantasy scene, the way there’s this dining sophistication set playfully against the woods.
10 Insane Interiors and Radical Room Designs. There’s some pretty hideous stuff in this post, but I love this psychedelic house, it’s like some kind of 60’s kids’ TV show. It screams slipstream.
15 More Amazing Tree Houses. And there’s pretty good stuff in the original 10 Amazing Tree Houses post too, but for some reason the pics aren’t coming up for me. But this would be Snow White living up off the forest floor – or maybe Sleeping Beauty hanging out with her fairy godmothers, I always liked her story better (probably because it was the 70’s when Disney did that one) – and the arched windows/crisscrossed windows keep the enchanted cottage vibe from disappearing into the trees.
Oh, and that table hanging near the Eiffel Tower? No idea, but James Bond seems like he’d be involved somehow.
So Hey Baby is currently making its rounds through the feminist blogosphere. In short: it’s a first person shooter where you play a woman walking down the street, and as catacallers come up to say all kinds of obnoxious shit to you, you gun them down. Little tombstones pop up with their pickup lines. How cute! Of course I had to go check it out, I’ve been dreaming of a game like this for ages.
Two reactions, the socially conscious one and the gaming one:
1) Socially conscious: Taking the House of the Dead-style zombie mobs and turning them into the everyday assholes that block your path, that *is* kind of what it feels like – when I pass a guy on the sidewalk, highschooler, old guy, doesn’t matter, all kinds do it – and not knowing if he’s going to mutter something to me or if he’ll let me pass by in silence. (That Scrodinger’s Rapist post from a while back was right on the money.) There’s no way to know which one has a verbal machete hidden behind his back. Countless blog posts have tried to explain this, and they’re always overrun by whiners who demand women’s attention while thinking nothing of their safety. (And that’s another bone to pick – dude, do you really think you’re the only special snowflake on the sidewalk? That there haven’t been a bunch of guys before you trying the same thing? Seriously, get a new game. Yours obviously sucks when you need to coerce another person into playing it.) A picture’s worth a thousand words, a video game definitely looks like a better medium to get the message across. It’s already worked in one instance.
2) Gaming: not very good, unfortunately. The world wasn’t very realized, the lines repeated themselves, but the big problem is that this is all that happens – there are no other obstacles to surmount. I haven’t played that much GTA so pardon any mistaken assumptions on how the game is structured, but I think it would be fantastic to drop a character/challenge into the game where this is one more extra-cuz-you’re-female hassle to deal with on the way to whatever other mission you’re trying to accomplish. Hey, just like real life! That, and it would be deliciously subversive: running over street hookers, women that society considers worthless and deserving of whatever punishments they get, is too close to real life to be any kind of shocking. But smashing into assholes swaggeringly upholding the power structure would be a lot more fun to play – what a great cathartic sandbox trope. I bet more than a few dudes would be into it, too.
But, big thanks to the game’s creator for making the idea reality. It’s a good one.
(Via Feministe)
…what had we learned about entertaining the kiddies? Keep it moving! Sesame Street was to Mr. Rogers what Space Mountain was to the teacups. No one set piece on the show ran for more than three minutes; Big Bird, Cookie Monster, Oscar the Grouch, jumping rope in Brooklyn, baking bread in North Dakota – black, white, Hispanic, android – everybody got their turn, so long as it lasted no more than 2:59. And everybody sang: sang about their feelings, about being green, about being grouchy, about counting cookies. Twice a day, at nine and four o’clock, children across America from all walks of life became as one through the miracle of electric bonding, eyes forward, butts down, millions of lips moving in sync as their favorite furry freaks sang and cavorted on a mythical street.
So when it came time to invent designer television for these children of “the Street,” the network for “young adults” headed straight for the format already deep in the psyche of its audience: modular programming, featuring favorite characters singing about their feelings, three minutes tops, over and over, twenty-four hours a day.
The black satin whisper of an evening gown, the macabre twists of a bloody b-movie, the ever-present death pun. While it sucks to watch someone run away with your cultural iconic idea, I can’t say I’m particularly unhappy that Maila Nurmi – the original Vampira – lost her lawsuit against Elvira, Mistress of the Night for stealing her schtick. This intoxicating combination of glamour, horror, and bad comedy is much too fabulous a job description to get snapped up by one one person, ever.
This is especially important when women comics still get a lot of flak that they’re “not as funny as men.” (Which I think is total bullshit, by the way.) The horror hostess is a way to be a comedienne and drop-dead sexxxay at the same time – true, there are varying degrees of self-parody, especially considering the caricatures of over-the-top femininity, but the jokes are generally aimed at the movie, not her. She’s the one sharpening her barbs on the fainting couch, waiting hungrily for the next dollop of shlock to ooze through her TV set.
Elvira has since gone on to a kind of cult-mainstream success with beer commercials, her own movies, as much legitimacy as you can muster for this sort of thing. If you really want the “true” queens of late-night trash – the ones whose TV studio environs more closely match the low-budget lives they’re watching – you have to go local.
First up, Ivonna Cadaver of “Macabre Theater,” which ran on KDOC-Los Angeles in, according to what the commenters are saying, the early aughts. And she’s certainly got that Leg Avenue Goth look going on, when teased hair and jagged velvets got tossed in favor of mucho PVC. This hostess boasts the co-star of Butch Patrick, and while the vibe is still that heady brew of dark and loony, the Hollywood connections shine through with interviews, premieres, contests, and the general feeling that this is not three people messing around in a basement somewhere. It’s still good stuff, just more pro about it.
Next, “Morella’s Graveyard Theater,” station and location unknown. Here, things take more of a classically medieval doing-bad-things-in-a-castle turn. Morella, who looks like she could be modeling for a Lee Press-On nails commercial in her off time, sticks with the 80’s formula of big hair and clingy bellsleeved gown. Her show goes for more of a standup-comedy setup, complete with a laugh track that seems more sad than campy. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot on YouTube about Graveyard Theater, so we’ll probably never know how much she got to play with that dungeon stuff in the background, but the lady definitely had fun with her fog machine.
Last, but certainly not least, “Saturday Night Dead” on KYW Channel 3, Philadelphia – home of That Maneater from Manayunk, Stella! This horror hostess embraces her inner Mae West to the max, wearing evening gloves, a rhinestone collar, and not one but *two* feather boas. The trompe-l’oeil boudoir is a stroke of lowbrow brilliance, mirroring the shoddy set design of the b-movies themselves: “give her whatever decadent, luxurious furniture she wants – in paint and cardboard!” Even better, she gets a few other actors to play with so there’s her own little sexually ravenous mini-drama going on alongside the feature presentation. Bravo.
Bonus! An 80’s montage of horror hosts, which includes Cheech Marin as the devil, and this gem from an interview with Frankenstein:
“What sign were you born under?”
“Danger: High Voltage.”
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