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contents issue 1




3. Pink Flamingos: John Waters’ midnight movie

5. GG Allin: Sister Sodomy

7.Woody Allen

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11. Decadence

13. Alvy Singer: Annie Hall

14. Dead Ladies

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PINK FLAMINGOS Director: John Waters Release date: 17 March 1972

Oh, I love you Raymond. I love you more than anything in this whole world. I love you more than my own filthiness, more than my own hair color. Oh God, I love you more than the sound of bones breaking, the sound of death rattle - even more than the sound of my own shit do I love you, Raymond. Raymond Marble: And I, Connie, also love you more than anything that I could ever imagine: more than my hair color, more than the sound of babies crying, of dogs dying - even more than the thought of original sind itself. I am yours, Connie, eternally united through an invisible core of finely woven filth, that even God himself could never ever break.

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artist: gg allin & the antiseen

& the antiseen

song tittle: sister sodomy

album: murder junkies


gg allin

Up the backdoor bitch I dig your anal cavity your ass is my fuck only death isreality your Now is the time, for sister termination The real thing is breathless since our communication sister sodomy sister of death Your burial ground is my final quest Find you in a dumpter bullet in your head your ass all tore up I love you dead. Death defecation inafter the hours death defecation when I bring you flowers. sister sodomy sister of death Your burial ground is my final quest Find you in a dumpter bullet in your head your ass all tore up I love you dead.

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WOODY ALLEN Words: Sarah Boxer_

Are your characters you? There are some similarities, but they are so greatly exaggerated in the movies,” Allen said. “I happen not to be hypochondriacal, as a matter of fact. I’m an alarmist. When I think I’m sick, I am actually sick. But with a hangnail or something, I immediately cut to the worst permutation. Allen wore a grey sweater, a blue shirt, khaki pants and loafers for his onstage analysis. His legs were crossed. He did not look at the analyst sitting near him. He looked out into the auditorium, focusing on no one in particular and looking absorbed and blind at the same time. I’m so different in real life, he said. Do you put parts of yourself in your movies? Certain traits slip out automatically, Allen admitted, saying that he saw himself in the character of the suicidal mother in Interiors, played by Geraldine Page, and in Mia Farrow’s character in Purple Rose of Cairo, a woman swept off her feet by a man on the movie screen. dead ladies mag_7

Movies were a gigantic, gigantic medium, Allen said, not like now. They changed people’s lives and ruined the lives of so many people. Women became embittered. Men, too. “I remember those hot, summer afternoons when the sun was just crucifying, and I would walk into a movie theatre. It was dark and cool and so overwhelming,” Allen said. “You always think, ‘My gosh, I want to meet a woman like I’ve seen in the movies’,” he added. “You know, very beautiful, very charming, very kind, very amusing, very scintillating. You know, it causes real problems in life.” Why are your movie sex scenes so full of argument and interruption? It would not be any fun if lovers, you know, go into the bedroom and everything just goes smoothly, Allen said. “Who cares?” Fifty years ago, there was no sex in the movies. “Couples slept alone.” And if they started kissing, there would always be a fadeout. “You had the impression that if you had sex, you were going to fade out.”

Why are analysts in films always popping antidepressants and having sex with their patients? In my films? Allen asked innocently. “I have always felt positive towards the analyst, you know.” He nearly choked on a cough. “I have a cold,” he explained. “The most disappointing thing about the evening is: I don’t really have a particular view of psychoanalysis in my films.” If it’s funny or dramatic in the movie for “the analyst to be insightful and noble and inexpensive, that’s what I do”. If the analyst is a murderer, that’s fine, too,” he said. “It’s completely what’s expedient.” What about Allen’s own psychoanalysis? On balance, I would say it has been helpful, but not as helpful as I had hoped and helpful in a way they didn’t intend, he said. “As a crutch it helped me.” Although he always dutifully brought in dreams to analyse and said whatever came into his head, he said, “there were no dramatic moments, there were no insights, there were no tears, there was, you know, nothing special”.

You never did cry? I never did. Analysis was convenient. “I lived on the Upper East Side. So did the doctor. I’d write, work four or five hours, then stroll over and talk about myself for 50 minutes, and then go back to my writing.” He ranked himself a disappointing patient: “One analyst said he thought it would be exciting analysing me, but that it was like being in there with, like, a lawyer. I lay on the couch. I did what I was told. But after eight years, I got up one day and offered my analyst a draw. We shook hands.” Tell me about your mother, the analyst said. Was she harsh and critical? You know, in my family, between my mother and myself, my father and myself, there was, you know, it was a loving family. But we were constantly baiting one another, making jokes with one another. Not even jokes all the time, but hostile remarks.” Then Allen melted a bit. “For all the mistakes my parents made, they loved

me and took care of me,” he said. “They wanted for me only those things that all the other kids’ parents want: they wanted me to not turn out to be a criminal, to go to school, to go to college, to amount to something.” They were traumatised by the Depression, he said. “My father had a million little jobs. My mother always had to work.” They were never discouraging about comedy, he said, but “they would have been much more relaxed if I had become a lawyer or a doctor”. Were they proud? Yes, they were, ahem, very, very proud, very proud, Allen replied. “My father used to go down to the cinemas and look at the lines and come back and tell me there was a huge line.” And his mother? There was not a constant spate of aggressive negativism. “She was critical and acerbic in a less gifted way than Groucho Marx. She resembled him.” As a child were you confident or shaky? I was not confident, Allen said. “But nobody has

ever been able to figure out why. I was a popular kid, a very, very athletic kid. I was always the first one chosen for teams. I had no reason to be fearful and insecure, but I was.” Where could that have come from? My mother used to say I was a sweet kid for the first four years of my life. Very sweet and then I turned sour. No traumatic event happened. I’m only theorising that it was an awareness of mortality. At a certain age, it becomes clear what you’re involved in. You never recover. Then came questions from the audience. The performance was broadcast in 10 Jewish community centres and two psychoanalytic societies across the country. One person from northern Virginia asked whether Crimes and Misdemeanors was critical of Jews or Judaism. No, he said, neither. I have no interest in the subject, Allen said. “I find it as interesting as Pennsylvania real estate.” No interest in religion? I’m deeply interested in religion. I’m not interested dead ladies mag_8


in the religions that we have. I’m not interested in Judaism, Catholicism or Protestant religion. There is of course still existential curiosity: “Why are we here? Is there more? Is there a greater power out there?” But these questions, he said, are “unsolvable and unsatisfying and ultimately depressing”. Favorite movies? I generally see a movie a week, Allen said, but “there’s so much junk out” that it is “very difficult to find a reasonably steady diet”. Allen’s recent picks are all non-American: Pedro Almodovar’s Talk to Her (Spanish), The Taste of Others (French), Love’s a Bitch (Mexican) and “that Mexican movie about the two guys who go on a trip and have all that sex”. Then there are his all-time favourites: Bicycle Thief, Grand Illusion, The Seventh Seal, Rashomon, Wild Strawberries, Rules of the Game, The 400 Blows. How’s the new family? the analyst wanted to know, repressing the Oedipal question of what it is like to separate from your mate and marry her child. I’m very happy, Allen said. “I love being married, and I love being a father. I’m still in good athletic shape. I work out every day. And I have no problem carrying and playing and dandling them. This is probably the best time that I’ve ever had. And I dead ladies mag_9

deserve it. ”Marriage, he said, “has made me very, very happy”. But, just for the record, he noted, “All human happiness is within a context. If you look beyond, it’s not that thrilling”. Any regrets? I regret that my muse was a comic muse and not a dramatic muse. I would rather have had the gifts of Eugene O’Neill or Tennessee Williams than the gifts I got. I’m not kvetching. I’m glad I got any gifts at all. But I would like to do something great, he said, hitting the “t” very hard. I’m not overly humble, he said. “I feel I had grandiose plans for myself when I started. And I have not lived up to them. I’ve done some things that are perfectly nice. But I had a much grander conception of where I should wind up in the artistic firmament. What has made it doubly poignant for me is that I was never denied the opportunity. “The only thing standing between me and greatness is me.”

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still life

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The_ universe_ is_ expanding. dead ladies mag_12



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There’s an old joke. Uh, two elderly women are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of ‘em says: “Boy, the food at this place is really terrible.” The other one says, “Yeah, I know, and such ... small portions.” Well, that’s essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly. The-the other important joke for me is one that’s, uh, usually attributed to Groucho Marx, but I think it appears originally in Freud’s wit and its relation to the unconscious. And it goes like this-I’m paraphrasing: Uh ... “I would never wanna belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.” That’s the key joke of my adult life in terms of my relationships with women. Tsch, you know, lately the strangest things have been going through my mind, ‘cause I turned forty, tsch, and I guess I’m going through a life crisis or something, I don’t know. I, uh ... and I’m not worried about aging. I’m not one o’ those characters, you know. Although I’m balding slightly on top, that’s about the worst you can say about me. I, uh, I think I’m gonna get better as I get older, you know? I think I’m gonna be the- the balding virile type, you know, as opposed to say the, uh, distinguished gray, for instance, you know? ‘Less I’m neither o’those two. Unless I’m one o’those guys with saliva dribbling out of his mouth who wanders into a cafeteria with a shopping bag screaming about socialism.

film tittle: annie hall

n director: herbert ross

album: 20 april 1977

n e aal nlian h n l l a h e n aaiellailnelh n i ha

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