Jacob Kelly's Funeralopolis Vol. 1 Issue 3

In this weeks issue: Page 1-'Daddies are a Girl's best Friend'

A review of Blonde or a book length investigation in to the history of erotic thrillers, female representation, the media, biopics, daddy kinks, Sigmund Fucking Freud, Marilyn Monroe films, Andrew Dominik's career so far and the dark underbelly of Hollywood.

Page 13'An Abhorrent Menace Sweeps the Countryside'

Things go south for Bonehead Bill in Lettershandoney and he has to flee Ireland in a hurry. On his return, Kelly and Bonehead watch Moloch. Together they delve in to the despicable horrors of the countryside. Now streaming on Shudder.

Page 19'Balls Deep in Gonzo Porno'

Yes, there is such a thing as Gonzo Porno. Here we get deep on the origins of the infamous genre and how it works in the context of pornography using the film, 'On the Prowl'. A new personality begins to emerge.

Page 25-'The Sunglasses Stay on During Sex'

Back in the early days of French magazine Cahiers Du Cinema, they would do entire pieces that weren't reviews but essays on director's works. It be rude not to do a piece on the big man Godard following his recent death. This section will also go through his entire career focusing on the highly written about edgy experimental early days and then the not so written about Maoist period and documentaries.

Based on what people had said about Andrew Dominik's Blonde, I had this completely different experience lined up in mind. Reading a large portion of the reviews on this film, you'd think it was some OTT Gaspar Noe Enter the Void sex orgy free for all. There's been plenty of talk on this one about CGI vaginas and it being the first Netflix NC-17 film. Thought that was great personally and ever since they announced the rating I was like "Go on Netflix!". Having now seen the film, I can't say it matched how it's been presented at all. A totally different kind of experience with extraordinary discipline.

Cannot even comprehend this or even believe that I'm saying this but Netflix could well have made my two favourite movies of the last five years, this and The Irishman-who could have seen that happening when Netflix first announced they were making movies? They've come a long way since their first Cannes Film Festival screening Okja was booed for their logo appearing on screen and having to be restarted as it was played in the wrong aspect ratio. The traditional models have been dismantled and we are well and truly in the streaming era. Paramount, Warner Bros., Universal step it up fellas, the new kid on the block is putting you to shame!

Arguably based on the media reaction, it appeared as though we had the first big sexploitation blockbuster since Showgirls on our hands. I was ready to bring out my love of the sturdy duo that was director Paul Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas. Dubbed by many to be the most immature team to ever be backed by Hollywood. All began in 1992, when they made Basic Instinct and everyone got behind it. Verhoeven was called the 'next Hitchcock' and compared favourably with the likes of DePalma and Polanski. Then when it came to their follow up which went to the edge of excess and maybe even veered over it with Showgirls, everyone undeservedly turned on them.

Daddies are a Girl's Best Friend

Eszterhas had to go it alone for his next sexual endeavour Jade, whilst his boy Verhoeven had to switch genres with Starship Troopers Luckily with Jade, Eszterhas had another chance with one of Hollywood's most insane and daring directors, William Friedkin (The Exorcist, The French Connection). Somehow this didn't even keep the man's screenwriting career going. He didn't get the news. Time was up for sex. Unfortunately, by this point the early 90s string of popular Hollywood supported erotic thrillers were beginning to die out as critics turned on them, which is a real shame because Jade's got all the mystery, dreadful dialogue and utter nonsense a film of that genre should have. "The fuck of the century" was over. Died an unfair and undeserved death in 1995, engrave that on the fucking tombstone. A hero's death rattling one too many conservative critics. Well, it was over in Hollywood. Verhoeven had more luck with his next film Starship Troopers.

Already mentioned back in issue 1 about my adoration of creature features. Verhoeven's Starship Troopers is one of the last really interesting creature features. For that he combined Nazi propaganda film Triumph of the Will and creature feature classic Them in order to critique US militarism, fascism and media. A bizarre choice of films to combine but ultimately by some miracle it works. For those interested, I think the last really great creature feature was 2010s Pirahna. If you have ever had the pleasure of seeing the sea of boobies and the flood of blood in 3D, you must know it is really something. Recalls that year in 1983, when horror went 3D. Many of the big franchises like Friday the 13th and Amityville Horror were entering their third instalment. Therefore, it just made sense to stick a D on the end and get the 3D cameras out. Hence why we got Friday the 13th 3D and Amityville Horror 3D

Pirahna, which is actually a remake of genre legend Joe Dante's film (the chief I declared as honourably for the children in issue 1), updates the original with modern sensibilities regarding teen trash. Has a lot in common with Spring Breakers (mentioned back in issue 2). Plus you get to witness the greatest beach blood bath since young Alex's death in Amityville (the Jaws Amityville that is).

One which truly delivers on its promise unlike the disappointing 12A rated The Meg, where it will always be known that Jason Statham completely scared the biggest bastard of the seas the prehistoric Megalodon in to submission, resulting in a clear winner of worst shark performance in the history of cinema. We can only hope Ben Wheatley can bring back some honour for Megalodon fans in the upcoming sequel.

Verhoeven still makes erotic cinema by the way just very far from Hollywood. He does not get invited back any more. Alongside my admiration for the horny duo of Eszterhas and Verhoeven, I was ready to bring out the big guns in discussing the excellent pop trash career of Adrian Lyne, who's form of cinema I really appreciate. His film earlier this year, Deep Water (even featured Blonde's star Ana De Armas giving wet Gone Girl actor Ben Affleck a blowy in the car and pulling the pubic hairs out her own mouth) was definitely a big talking point for what could be deemed modern popular sexploitation.

Hear me out, three different avenues you could take for that film. Number one, you know it wasn't the genres finest hour but you miss that shit so badly you low key love it (the Kelly camp). Number two, you have respect for the genres greatest hits but you're under the belief you're literally witnessing the post-death of popular erotic thrillers right before your very eyes. Number three, you're un-initiated and unfamiliar with Adrian Lyne's style of filmmaking wondering "what the fuck is this crap?"

Finally, I may have lost myself in the amazing Animal Instincts from 1992 and hardcore turned softcore director Gregory Dark's style of noir meets erotica (a sort of adorably second rate David Lynch). The aforementioned Animal Instincts, actually develops the genre I made up the other week of Dinner Table. This could well be considered Dinner Table softcore. For some reason, these movies really intrigue me, anything which invades the bourgeois home, challenges notions of taste, rattles just about everyone and still walks out with a fan base no matter how small. When something shouldn't work but it does. I happen to champion shit like that. Anyway, mentioning all these films and directors is kind of useless here because Blonde isn't really like any of these at all. If you can believe it, I was only meant to quickly run through those films to illustrate what I thought Blonde would be like and exactly what it wasn't. Somehow I still managed to digress massively. I am excessive and ill-disciplined lacking any sense of self-control or restraint. On the other hand, Dominik is none of these things and his film operates at the perfect level to be fully effective.

Some critics will try to make a link with Showgirls by suggesting that when attempting to critique excess and exploitation, they fall victim to that which they are supposedly critiquing. It's a classic case of liberal critics not wanting to get their hands dirty. You can't help but reference Bruno Dumont in those situations, who once said something to the effect of the only changing movies being the ones that are mostly on the edge of acceptability and then peer over to the other side briefly. The point being you have to show the audience some of that other side so they know what it looks like.

Films which don't subscribe to this notion notably come up short. Anything less than this is as the master satirist Chris Morris said, "a parade for the court". Either you believe in what you're doing or you're after doggy treats and I can't stand cinema which is just pats on the head. Court jesters will be shot on sight.

My stance going in to this movie was if it does have this orgiastic final half that's been written about, it might not inherently be a bad thing because it's subject Marilyn Monroe did have sex. You know, women have sex. Is it really misogynistic to show a woman having sex and experiencing pleasure? That's not to say I decided before viewing that it wouldn't be misogynistic but rather I was keeping an open mind unlike these other freaks who have had it out for Blonde without watching. I don't even understand the point of controversy in today's climate any way because the whole idea is that it should ignite conversation, which it doesn't any more. Too often, these days people shut things down before production even begins with this cancel culture business. In effect, the conversation is over before it even begins so it’s a useless tool today.

Have we also considered the fact if anything it would be worse not to show sex in a movie about Marilyn Monroe? We can't avoid the fact Marilyn Monroe was turned in to a sex symbol. You simply can't ignore that no matter your thoughts on miss Monroe. No-one is saying you have to conclude that she is nothing other than a sex symbol or blonde bombshell. If you ask me, she was a brilliant actress with a lot more going on than her looks but to ignore public perception would be to do her story a grave injustice. That's exactly the substance or motivation that was driving her entire career. An all-out attack on a brutal industry where looks can bring you in, your acting talents aren't appreciated and as soon as your looks go you are spat out and your time in the system is short. I like the tagline on this, 'Watched by all, seen by no-one'.

So get extreme. Get right fucking in there at her struggle for acceptance as an actor and that public image that could well have destroyed her. Are these people calling themselves "feminists" really so naïve? I refuse to believe so but this film has certainly brought out a few morons who label themselves as such. Who has to be the one to tell this corner of the world flying the banner for nothing other than self-gain that if we don't get in there with this kind of dark subject matter, you won't see change. In fact these people are doing more damage than good. How can they be so blind? Female liberation, true female liberation will be squandered if they continue shitting on movies trying to do some good and films will just become some commodity never living up to their potential of influencing change if we continue with this naivety.

As for that take I've seen knocking around about you can't make films about dead people, what the fuck? Bye-bye the biopic! Talking biopics, this is quite the novel approach in that it is not technically about Marilyn Monroe's life but a fictionalised book written by Joyce Carol Oates. I'm deeply lost as to why some have called this a fabrication of her story, the filmmakers have been pretty open from the start this is based on the book itself, going as far as to put it in the synopsis when marketing. You have not been lied to. You have not been duped. This should be considered more of a bold hypothesis as to why her mental health declined and in doing it this way, we get closer to her mental state than any other work before it.

I'm always odd when it comes to biopics. My favourite movies are normally Scorsese movies, so naturally it could be said that makes my favourite kind of movie the biopic. Yet if someone asked me, I'd probably go off on one about the relentless stream of biopics out there which are just by the numbers, Wikipedia copied and pasted retellings, which never even get close to the power and intrigue the subjects involved had.

They never capture why these fantastic mythical figures we hold so dear have reminded in the public consciousness all this time. What they don't understand is that maybe it is because that power these people held wasn't real in a literal and logical sense. It's something way more complex in our minds where truth and myth begin to mix. The two overlap until they are indistinguishable. In the process, an individual may really become that which they represent in a manner that goes beyond abstract.

Todd Hayne's I'm Not There is a recent biopic, I regularly find myself referring back to. The concept for it really sticks in mind as a creative approach to the biopic. In that film, they tell the story of Bob Dylan but through all the different personas and voices he created (something which you could easily do with fellow musician David Bowie too). Instead of just one actor playing the big Bob, an army of Hollywood A-listers take up the role in several different timelines and realities. Consequently, through the unique format they really nailed who this guy was and just as importantly what his work was. The latter being a part which is regularly ignored in the typical biopic. Too often, they forget the artists creative output and even if they do show them blandly producing it, they fail to grasp why it was so important and how to conceptualise it in a stylistic manner appropriate to the artist. A vastly wasted opportunity that if it was explored further would actually create more genres and modes of individualistic expression in cinema.

I subscribe to the belief that sometimes fiction is more true than reality and the surreal more real than the real. Our subconscious reveals far more than what comes out of our mouths. Therefore, any decent biopic should address these aspects and step outside of reality if they wish to genuinely capture some sense of truth and fully realise what compelled the filmmaker to create the film in the first place and deem such a story noteworthy.

If you're still hung up and worried at this point about the presentation of Marilyn Monroe on this film, forget what other people have said and take note of the fact the Monroe estate were happy with the results and approved of the film. Anyone who could possibly still continue their crusade against Blonde after knowing this detail is virtue signalling. Who are you keeping up this selfmoralising charade for? Who is it you seek to impress? Are you so desperately seeking attention?

Having seen the bulk of Marilyn's movies, I have myself developed an undeniable appreciation for her artistry and would not particularly want to see her exploited either. If that was the case, I'm not saying I'd be offended by it, I'd probably just find it silly and humorous. A notorious exercise in selfabsorption and an accidental masterpiece in the male gaze. I'd come out and say that's exactly what it is, as I said knowing me I'd probably enjoy it but I would say exactly what it was. At the end of the day, I just don't believe Blonde is any of those things in all honesty.

I wish Blonde was revolting and exploitive and all the things it was made out to be. That it was sleazy and stupid. Handled with absolutely irredeemable taste. Then I could have laughed about it and not found it so sad. People are stupid man. Honestly, I don't know you could come out of this thinking it was anything but tragic and devastating made by a group of people who clearly loved Marilyn. A passion project which took 10 years to make rather than some quickly churned out ill-conceived idea. I didn't find any of it remotely offensive or damaging to her legacy but rather cementing it. These didn't seem like filmmakers wanting to make a quick buck profiting from someone's misery.

All I found it to be was something that illustrated the horrors in a woman's life which led to an early death made by people deeply and genuinely concerned. A scathing attack on the industry and media who destroyed the woman. There's been countless documentaries which go through the motions but not one has been able to answer the question in the moments leading up to her death of 'Why?'. The film really does provide an answer. Maybe not 'the' answer but certainly 'an' answer.

I don't see any trashy influences involved here and would actually go as far as to compare it to some of the most highly regarded filmmakers such as Billy Wilder, David Lynch, Federico Fellini, Stanley Kubrick, Terrence Malick, Chantal Akerman and Agnes Varda. To be absolutely clear that is not a list of names I aim to drop cheaply. Allow me to explain myself.

This is Cleo from 5 to 7 but Cleo doesn't know what time it is. What we have here is a girl in search of a past she doesn't have and so she's constantly recreating her future with nothing to hold on to. She has no understanding of the self or historical identity and as such is caught in some endless loop of creation and destruction where nothing remains for very long. An inverse of Akerman's Jean Dielman, in which the character is driven insane by lack of domestic routine and repetition. The other extreme. A jigsaw puzzle which every time she tries to assemble, she is thrown by the media in to an unknown future. The narrative itself is assembled in that manner too, you never really find your footing. I can't remember the last time I was so wonderfully lost in a picture from recent times.

Every time I tried to follow it, outside forces were controlling and dictating the direction. I can only assume that's what Marilyn's life was like. Every attempt made to make sense of her life is annihilated because someone else is determining her course.

Hollywood and the media had this woman on the strings playing this poor woman like a puppet. The whole experience to have it done to you cinematically is frighteningly intoxicating. I see it as replicating the experience not exploiting it in order to make us understand how she must have felt. Imagine that one scene from 8½ when he's climbing under the tables to escape the shower of cameras recording his every move but that goes on for the entire movie. Much like La Dolce Vita there is this total rejection of continuity and time in favour of these episodic encounters and it becomes this descent in to Dante's Inferno. Hollywood in this case becoming a burning hell.

You know I cannot recall ever seeing a biopic quite like it. In the sense, that I'd seen most of catalogue and am aware of her marriages therefore should know the trajectory of the film. Yet, even being armed with this knowledge, I couldn't fully figure out the path the film was taking due to the lack of continuity and consideration of time. The sprawling narrative is handled in a way that replicates her inner traumas and existentialist fears. Throughout the film there's these proper 2001/The Tree of Life CGI shots of a foetus growing in the womb being used as a visual motif to tap in to the cycle of life in the most disturbing way imaginable. What we have is a kind of Predestination style narrative paradox in that this girl does not have a father so she can't visualise her own existence. She draws blank every time.

Hence why she probably throws herself in to all these sexual encounters. What is it Freud said about having to understand the father's genitalia to recognise one's own or some shit like that? Dominik's film takes such an idea and produces some psychosexual horror movie out of it.

That scene where they talk about Marilyn as a baby sleeping in a cupboard draw, then she has visions later on of her own baby in that same draw freaked me out on a level I do not possess the knowledge to understand. What would Freud make of this? Someone get the bastard out of his grave, find a way to get his ticker going, prop his eyes open and get him to the cinema to watch Blonde. And while you're at it call Hollywood because that actually sounds like a fantastic sequel to Weekend at Bernie's.

Put simply, Blonde is the best film ever about girls in search of a daddy. Those who possess such a kink are dangerous and should never be underestimated. That is the research I have gathered from my time in the field. They are among the most troubled that walk the earth. Their questions are rarely answered and their satisfaction seldom met. Frequently, these are the women I am drawn to and these are frequently the women who ruin my life. Go figure.

Many reviews have commented on the quite frankly absurd amount of times "daddy" gets said in the second half. Can't even downplay that. All of a sudden, I had this stupid idea to start drinking from a bottle of wine every time she said "daddy" and so I came out the cinema walking like a bloody crustacean. Unable to move forwards in a straight line, it was more of a sideways motion. As though auditioning for a Romero remake of one of his zombie films. I don't know what went through me first the word "daddy" or the bottle of wine, it was an interesting experiment but one which proved fatal. Unlike others, I didn't think the repeated usage is lazy or though. No, this was no gratuitous "daddy" but literally what the story was about. Monroe's partners barely commenting on it only adding to the inebriating effect.

Find it crazy that Blonde has been passed off as misogynistic when it seemed to me the greatest study of femininity and motherhood since Rosemary's Baby. Not since that film have I felt the fears of the fragility of the females body and her offspring go through me.

The pair of them are basically Eraserhead with a female perspective. Blonde may even improve on them by exploring absent fathers and mentally unstable mothers. It recalls the quote from David Fincher's Seven, "Well, I got up one morning and went to work...just a day like any other day, except it was the my first since hearing about the baby. And I felt this fear and anxiety washing over me. I looked around and I thought how can we raise a child surrounded by all this? How can any child grow up here?".

Normally, I find horror icon and scream Queen Jamie Lee Curtis's white liberal feminist bullshit to be annoying and truthfully insufferable but even she said that she, "dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe it. Ana was completely gone. She was Marilyn". I had to agree. The film swept me up into this overwhelming drama, which became almost like a prison as we roamed endless studios and red carpets. An experience which reached the operatic, tragic and cinematic heights of Perfect Blue and Black Swan. A woman so lost in her art and life, unable to tell fact from fiction. The constant switching between black and white and colour only adding to the confusion as you try to figure out a pattern.

I'm an auteur purist so naturally I'm more drawn to directors, who in both the cases of Rosemary's Baby and Blonde I am aware does happen to be men. However, let's not forget that these films wouldn't achieve what they do without their female stars De Armas and Farrow. Anyone with greater knowledge on acting methodology should focus on these elements. I for one would not be able to do it justice and have not had the time to fully consider it. Regardless, very happy with how well De Armas has done, especially since she got all that shit about how a Cuban should not be playing this role. Plus my Queen smashes the Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend sequence, which takes some doing because Marilyn was on full power when she did that all those years ago.

Dominik's film actually allowed me to consider Marilyn's career in way I never have before and appreciate her talents as though for the first time over again. Shone a whole new light on her contributions to film. Why would someone trying to exploit her misery attempt such a thing? Riddle me that, Batman. I knew a little about the background of Monroe's past which made her such a suitable candidate to portray the Nell Forbes character in Don't Bother to Knock . However, I never really acknowledged just what makes her performance in it so damn good. They highlight this in a scene when some casting directors are gathered round discussing her screen test for it. These people mention that what she's doing is not acting and there's no technique. Comedically, in Blonde they're shown hating the performance but the exact words they use are the very reason she is so good in that movie. It's this raw and untrained approach that can't be taught, the likes of which is rarely seen.

Moving on to Some Like it Hot, I'll never be able to watch this in the same way after Blonde. They really go in hard in to that menage a trois like arrangement in a way that never crossed my mind. You really begin to understand why the role might have appealed to her. Didn't even realise the song which plays near the start, 'Everybody Needs a Daddy' was sung by Marilyn herself. It's hard to say how much of the film is exaggerated but in all fairness, they're using elements that did happen in her life to propel the story. As a result, it's difficult to argue with the conclusions drawn and the interpretation presented before you. That's what makes it so unique, creative and downright bold. What we have is far from a traditional approach and yet it holds up.

There's this absolutely stellar moment where it match cuts between Marilyn in a threesome on the edge of the bed and a waterfall. Obviously, hinting at the next film in her career, Niagra. The link or even connective tissue between the two: sex. Sex runs through them in a straight line.

Niagra is far from my favourite Marily movie, it's more interesting to read about than it is to watch because the waterfall seems to unconsciously symbolise Marilyn's sexual energy. Before this is misunderstood, Dominik isn't the first to establish this connection. It is evident to anyone who watches it, yet its disappointingly tame and underused. Mr Dominik deserves credit for bringing this to the forefront in a way that movie was unable to, thus bettering it.

It wouldn't be a leap to compare Blonde with Mulholland Drive and Sunset Boulevard . All three dissect the mysteries and dark underbelly of Hollywood that the industry does not wish to share. Perfect visual accompaniments to 'Blue Jay Way', a Harrisong from The Beatles. A song which was written by George as he stood not too far from Mulholland Drive by the foggy hills of Hollywood waiting for an acquaintance to appear. Notably also one of the songs used by Charles Manson for his preposterous Helter Skelter theory. Tarantino literally made the link between Hollywood and Manson abundantly clear in his last film Once Upon a Time in Hollywood , which focused on the family's time at Spahn Ranch, an old movie set.

Manson's invading of the music industry is well documented too with his friendship with Dennis Wilson and a Beach Boys B-side writing credit. However, those wanting to get their heads blown off even further should check out the exploitation film Mondo Hollywood, which stars Manson victim Jay Sebring and a few other members of the Manson family such as Bobby Beausoleil, who were later indicted. Wait a minute, Jay Sebring? The unfortunate hairdresser who was slain alongside Sharon Tate (wife of Roman Polanski). Haven't I already mentioned Rosemary's Baby in this? It's all linked I tell you! Hollywood has its secrets. Why do you think that no good dirty rotten rapist shock rocker called himself Marilyn Manson? Two of Hollywood's greatest secrets.

Doubling down on the Mulholand Drive angle, I'm still reeling in horror terrified by the Lynchian red carpet displays. Rows and rows of faces with humongous mouths all wanting a piece of Marilyn. Those shots belong in an art gallery. Deeply disturbing on another level. Blonde, Mulholland Drive and Sunset Boulevard are all masterpieces in intersecting the dark part of Hollywood with a mind blowing sense of erotica. Reality, fiction and sex blurring over each other.

Explicitly, there is a character in Blonde who is the son of Charlie Chaplin and feels his future his entrapped by this fact. The knowledge of his father's identity crippling him in a very different way to Marilyn. There is a creepy scene in which a picture of Charlie Chaplin is seen burning. Well before, Charles Manson came in to the picture, Chaplin's mentor was involved in the first Hollywood scandal, which forever tainted the innocence of the silent period. Fellow silent star Roscoe 'Fatty' Buckle was accused of raping and accidentally killing Virginia Rappe. Couldn't tell you if that's a link that's supposed to be made here but it does seem to linger like a foul odour corrupting the pristine and immaculate utopia of Hollywood. Either way it would have worked better if the kid in Blonde was Fatty's son. No point discrediting Chaplin's legacy, seemed a decent guy who was meant to be a socialist. Then again, maybe they were playing on him being a bad father (very fitting in this world of Blonde) with 11 kids with about three different wives. Perhaps his inclusion here was not so bad after all.

Expanding on the reality, fiction and sex blurring over each other, about the only time I thought Blonde verged on exploitive was the belting moment she ended up giving JFK head. A scene which blew my head off because when he climaxes, we cut to a shot of JFK's personal TV and see scenes from Earth Vs the Flying Saucers and other 50s Sci-Fi creature features. The rockets and saucers become phallic substituting for the president's penis. This is just about the most Jacob Kelly moment I have ever witnessed in my life.

You could say its exploitive because of the way it tarnishes a potentially decent and innocent relationship she had in her life. However, a few things to things to consider here. There's a solid amount of evidence to suggest they may have been having an affair and these two were banging on the regular. If so, go on girl get that president dick! Make Air Force One stand to attention.

Two, if the public believes it's true, then in a strange and unexplainable way it is. Don’t have a go at me, that's the logic in most situations. Not saying I agree, just how it is. The mass consciousness is a living breathing thing. It's like pronouncing a word, if the general consensus is it's to be said in a particular way but everyone says it in another, are you wrong for saying it the right way? What do you do in these situations? You're coming up against a brick wall of culture, stand tall or prepare to be obliterated brother!

Three, the way this is handled isn't particularly dodgy or overly graphic. The way Marilyn is coerced in to the act is extremely well done. She's disoriented and dragged in, confused as to where she is and whether she's being arrested. The woman can't even tell if it's real or just a scene from her next film. Throughout, she keeps trying to maintain their relationship is spiritual and not sexual. If you ask me, Marilyn herself is not being exploited by the filmmakers, this about the media exploiting her, which is what the whole films about. Exploitation to a degree that you don't even recognise your own image any more. Moreover, the scene isn't particularly graphic and albeit handled with a Hitchcockian wit, I would say is generally handled with good taste. Tonally a little crazy, which it needed to be to establish the surreal nature of it but as stated, it is not overly revealing.

Sadly, we do not get to see this dude playing "The President of the Free World" hang dong. Note that if this was film was in my hands it would have played out differently. I would have had Marilyn under the assumption she had been fucked by the country and fucks it right back by having anal sex with the president of the United States himself. Yes, that is me saying I would have Marilyn Monroe pegging the president.

Later in this issue of Funeralopolis, I think I even distastefully exploit the president myself (see the Gonzo Porno section). I could not help such an act. Whilst, Dominik demonstrates a tremendous amount of self-restraint and I'll defend that, I myself do not and have already admitted to this. Although does it support my case if I add that it was all in the good silly nature of addressing the psycho sexual and where fantasy and reality meet, like my favourite book of all time, JG Ballard's The Atrocity Exhibition? As Geroge Lucas once said after making the Star Wars prequels, "I may have gone too far" In the case of Blonde though, I'm going to say: strictly tasteful. Say what you want about Jacob Kelly but don't bring my baby Blonde in to this. She's a good egg. I remain as ever nothing if not honest.

One thing I'll never understand, how do the fucking documentaries get away with it? No-one bats an eye when Netflix churns out yet another one of those true crime docs. Somehow all these years those have gone so under the radar and are totally accepted by the public. Noone ever gives them a good bashing for how offensive they are and the normalisation of suicidal celebs and serial killers. Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm completely against these, on the contrary I think these things are hilarious even if they are bottom of the barrel trash, only pointing out the hypocrisy of how they go undetected. Not been able to take these in the same way ever since seeing how Natural Born Killers parodies the entire genre. It's the narration that kills me every time.

Perhaps, some will take issue with the early rape scene in Blonde. Not necessarily a true story but I'm not sure it's worth kicking off about. Above all, it seems timely with the metoo movement and an ugly but true metaphor for how the industry treated Marilyn from the outset. On the one hand, it's lazy but it nails the point like Tyson Fury punch to the face.

Here's the thing, there's literally a biopic coming out about the Harvey Weinstein scandal, the most recent horror of Hollywood. In fact, I saw the trailer for it strangely enough just before Blonde in the cinema. Everything about it screams bad filmmaking but relevant issue. I hate films like that where the whole thing is in the trailer. What's the point in watching them, fuck, what's the point in even making them? They do not surprise, they do not challenge, the cards are laid out on the table in the trailer. How will it inspire change? What's its purpose? What horrors will it expose? What will it teach that we don't already know? Go read about it on Wikipedia its much quicker.

Watch everyone absolutely laud this Weinstein film when its released and forget how appallingly made it is. Critics will be getting on their knees and saluting it to show they are in full support of the metoo movement. 30 minute standing ovations, first one to sit down loses their feminist card. That's a film saying look at me, wank me off and people will do it too. One whiff of that trailer had me thinking: we could well have another court jester on our hands. And what did we say happened to court jesters? I'll be fuming if that turns out in to a hit. At least Blonde is made by one of the best directors currently working. Blonde isn't pretty but nor are some of the things female actresses and women in general have to face. People will forget this Weinstein film quickly, whereas Blonde will, mark my words, have a resurgence at some point. When all is said and done, Blonde is a force for good.

Absolutely sickens me that we live in a word where Elvis got better reviews than Blonde. You know what the difference between the two films is? Both have two of the most disjointed narratives of the year except Blonde uses that to emphasise its characters confusion and disillusionment further. Whereas, Elvis mainly fucks about at the expense of narrative. There's little purpose and care to the decisions made. I will admit, there are a few scenes in Elvis where Luhrmann's style does work. For example, the way they show him embodying the history of the blues in a single moment is undeniably impressive, leaning on the spiritual. Unfortunately, this accounts for about two scenes and for the rest it doesn't work coming across as decisions made for the sake of visuals and not story. Blonde is where style and story meet in perfect bond.

I can't believe I almost let the media fool me into thinking this was something it wasn't. Dominik has never been particularly vulgar. Other than one white sending scene in his debut Chopper, where Eric Bana wacks his cock out in the boozer. However, he's come a long way since that act of madness and embodied his status as the true heir of Terrence Malick. The competition has been killed off too since George Washington and Undertow director David Gordon Green smoked too much ganj, bottled it completely and went in to stoner comedies. Initially, the Halloween remake suggested a potential return to form somewhere in between his arty origins and stoner deviations but the geezer seems to have lost himself in that bollocks too. Halloween Kills was by no means a great movie I enjoyed it for how it was a fool's version of Fritz Lang's M. It amused me cause Jamie Lee Curtis was bigging it up in interviews as some political juggernaut and came out looking like a moron. We haven't had any decent press to interest me on the new one. We need something stupid to happen in the promotion because the trailer looked bland.

The future doesn't look too good for him either with these Exorcist remakes he's doing afterwards. Anyway, the weeds killed him, it's a TKO, only Dominik is left standing as the true heir of Malick.

Domonik's Killing Them Softly wasn't fully appreciated on release either but that one's really started to grow on people. We're almost out of cult status and in to general acceptance. In the scenario of Softly, he didn't just succumb to the lazy violence and material excess of many flawed gangster pictures. Instead, actually using the genre to make a socioeconomic commentary on the financial crash back in 2008. In its final scenes, it becomes a brutal take down of a massively revered and respected political figure in American history, Thomas Jefferson. The American Dream wasn't safe either. Brad Pitt's character notices President Obama giving a speech on the television about reclaiming the American Dream and decides to give a crushing speech of his own:

"Don't make me laugh. One people? It's a myth created by Thomas Jefferson. My friend, Thomas Jefferson is an American saint because he wrote the words 'all men are created equal' words he clearly didn't believe since he allowed his now-children to live in slavery. He's a rich wine snob who got sick of paying taxes to the Brits. So yeah he writes some lovely words and roused the rabble and they went out and died for those words while he sat back and fucked a slave girl. This guy wants to tell me we're living in a community? Don't make me laugh. I'm living in America and in America, you're on your own. America's not a country. It's a business. Now fucking pay me". Fade to black. Roll the credits. One of the best endings in film history.

Although they seem worlds apart at first, Softly and his previous effort from 2007, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford have more in common than you'd think. Jesse James is deemed by many to be one of the greatest films of the 21st century and it's hard to object. Essentially, Softly modernises the spaghetti western classic The Great Silence to investigate bounty hunters and the illusions of government control and the broken legal system through the gangster genre. You only have to look at Scorsese's Goodfellas to see how the western and the gangster genre are so linked. Like the Hell's Angels (discussed issue #2) Gangsters are another form of modern outlaws. Literally watch Goodfellas again and count the western references. Now how could someone as brilliant as this sell out and make something so cheap as was claimed with Blonde? The answer is he did not. Why did I for one second believe Blonde wouldn't be as genuine as its predecessors? Why did I let the media do that? This guy means what he does.

Jesse James sees Dominik updating Gregory Peck's The Gunfighter (fuck your John Wayne shit, this could well be the best from the golden age of Hollywood westerns before the Italian nutters came along) and brought the likes of Roger Deakins along with the musicianship of Nick Cave and Warren Ellis. The result is true sound and image beauty. Deakins has many memorable shots but who can forget the one from The Shawshank Redemption when he breaks out of prison, it rains down on him and he embraces his new found freedom without a care in the world?

That has always been a personal favourite of Deakin's handiwork. In more recent times, people will no doubt bring Blade Runner 2049, Prisoners, Skyfall and Sicario in the argument but for me the Shawshank one is a tough cookie to beat for the feeling it gives you. After a masterclass in time and pressure, that image really resonates as a triumph. If a picture speaks a thousand words, then just like the final shot from Runaway Train, it is one which expresses freedom.

However, the one in Jesse James when they stop the train could be better. I can't even downplay it, the fluidity of the movement, the way it echoes cinemas past and the ghosts of The Great Train Robbery really gets to me. Poetry in motion. A document of how far we've come in cinema since 1903. All scored by the phenomenal Nick Cave and Warren Ellis just to top it off.

Jesse James ended up being this study of fame, myth and the media shot in Malickian style. A movie version of the Kendrick Lamar lyric from Money Trees, 'Everybody gonna respect the shooter but the one in front of the gun lives forever'. A gift of a movie for those who think Badlands, The Tree of Life and the Thin Red Line represent the peak of cinema. Blonde picks up exactly where Jesse James left off, critiquing the very same issues. Yet, it has gone down quite terribly. Ruined by reactionary reviews going off what the media have said. No-ones really engaged with this one the way it needs to be. When did criticism get so lazy? I'm baffled as to how they can't see its doing the same things as Jesse James. Is it cause Jesse James is a figure who's been dead longer? Surely it can't be something as simple as that. Either way one's widely accepted as a classic and the other is a mega flop. Explain it to me!

If anything, I believe Blonde could be the better of the two and at least belongs on the same shelf with Mulholland Drive and There Will Be Blood. Noting its Rotten Tomatoes, IMDb or Letterboxd scores you wouldn't get that impression at all. You'd think I was off me rocker but Blonde was genuinely something special and not something that comes around often.

Honestly, I was sold on this from the outset and I knew I was back in Jesse James territory from the moment the ash drifted across the screen and Cave/Ellis's moody ambient synths hit me like a train. An unbelievably good way of bringing you back in to this world and suggesting something new by opening with a fire spreading across Hollywood. A mad mother and her child trying to survive the night in this haunting opening set piece. Sets up the atmosphere and purpose of the film instantly. An evil corrupt industry burning in its own filth and rubble, enticing and killing those it can from any age it can. A continuation of Killing Them Softly's cynical ending where Hollywood substitutes in for America.

In life, one thing that intrigues me is the cylindrical nature of criticism. It would be a costly mistake to think its static. Nope, nothing is static in this game, the tides are constantly shifting, which is why I'd always promote going with the take you believe and not just following the popular vote. Trust me, it'll save you having to embarrassingly back track at a later date.

The strangest part of whenever this happens, everyone forgets the contemporary reviews upon release. They get lost under Hollywood's pile of ash never to be seen again as a new belief spreads. They'll declare that "it was always a masterpiece! No-one ever believed any different" Remember when Vertigo was released it was hated? That's just forgotten now. Even the more appropriately fitting Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me had a disastrous Cannes reaction. Look at how that films held now. So when the conversation comes up again in, I don't know, 10 or 20 years time, know that some of us championed it from the start for what it was, an elaborate jigsaw puzzle of fame, media, femininity and existentialism. A puzzle so powerful and shocking that even today the media tried to destroy it by declaring it as the very thing it was always critiquing.

Bonus Points:

-Being the finest piece of feminist cinema since Rosemary's Baby

-The Lynchian red carpet displays

-The creature feature representation during the president's orgasm

-Netflix getting brave and making their first NC-17 rated movie

-Making us love Marilyn even more than we already did

-Its cynical view of Hollywood and the media

-An original approach to the biopic

-Being the peak of Daddy

Cinema

-Ana De Armas and Adrien Brody, no further comments needed

Overall Score: 5/5

An Abhorrent Menace Sweeps the Countryside

Bonehead Bill is back. Back on English soil. Back to ruin my fucking life. Take him off my hands, I beg you. Ladies, he's not actually a bad looking fellow. I mean he hums of shite and could probably do with a bath, which is why he tends to be successful with females suffering from semi blocked nasal passages due to excessive cocaine consumption. Other than that though, my fine feathered friend is a rather handsome fella. All I recommend is investment in cheap nose pegs. Find yourself a bargain on Bezos's Amazon and maybe just have it permanently selected to 'repeat buy'. You'll be able to tell people you have a boyfriend in Bonehead and a nose peg dealer in Bezos. Put these two together and you'll be operating at peak social capital. Remove this thorn in my side please, trust me ladies, you can fix him.

If I seem a little hostile towards this man and un-thrilled by his return it is because the fucker has left me skint for the month. Yes, the only reason he was able to get his sweet feet down in Charles's country again was because of me. The bank of Jacob Kelly is usually a sight for sore eyes to begin with so this didn't help matters at all. Alright, so a few days ago I got a call saying things had "gone south with the Irish family" and he needed an exit strategy. Kept saying he had to "bail" and that the family were looking for him. Asked him where he was calling me from. He does not know. Told him "that's not fucking good enough is it!". Can't help him if he doesn't know where he is.

Erratically he starts going on about being stuck in a bush the last twenty minutes and he "Daren't get out". What the fuck is Bonehead Bill doing in a bush? Oh, he had to dive for cover because he was being chased by a bunch of ticked off Irishmen. "Fuck sake", I said, "That's Liam Neeson's people and if there's one thing I've learnt from my time in cinemas, it's you do not go around pissing off Neeson". In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have said this, the man's head was already on the ropes, it sure didn't need clattering with the threat of Neeson.

My words send him in to a whirl of mania. He proceeds to rant and assault me with irrelevant details of his current predicament. Only the final line can be clearly made out as he describes his present location by saying that he is in a "green bush" Reminded him that they don't come in many other colours and this information was useless to me. "You want my help, figure out where the fuck you are first" was the choice I presented him.

Instead of checking Google Maps he continues this repeating of useless information. This may have been around the point when all I could say over and over was "Get a fucking grip, get a fucking grip!". I had been brought down to his level and I knew it. Unable to conjure a single idea, I decided it was time to hang up and take the Kelly 5 minutes out. A process that had never failed me to date. I'd been using the technique since a drug-induced bad reaction during a screening of Matilda. Mrs Trunchbull and old Mary don't go together it turns out. During this temporary time out, I managed to get my head screwed back on and could only hope I could do the same for my pea-brained partner in crime. Round two goes down and plays out rather well. Advised he make it to the nearest train station. Bonehead informs me he doesn't "think there is one". Round two was not going so well.

This led me in to a rant about how much I hated Lettershandoney, a place I had never been to and after this saga would never be going to. May have in my frustration even said some vile things about the people of Lettershandoney. In particular I may have addressed their blatant uselessness and utter stupidity in not building a damn train station. A vital modern resource. As a result, I would like to take this moment to apologise to the people of Lettershandoney for my outburst. I will refrain in future from resorting to slander, slurs and the defamation of the good people of Lettershandoney

Before I could say anything worse, it suddenly hit me that buses exist. This set something off in Bonehead Bill as he finally remembered that's how he got here actually. An almost perfect example of the moron I have to put up with and why he must be stopped. One of these days, I'm going to have to give him the Lenny treatment. Hand over a couple of rabbits to soothe him and then it's come on Bonehead out the back. Pump a few rounds in his head in some alleyway behind a pub for the benefit of humanity. He just wasn't made for this world. There will be a time when this has to come, I can only hope I do not act too late.

Have to say, I was pretty nervous when he said there's only 1 bus stop in the whole town but decided to think more about how this may make it easier as we won't have to worry about multiple buses and routes. One straight ticket out of there. "Yeah, yeah, should be simpler that way", Bonehead said in agreement. Evidence was beginning to suggest we were getting somewhere but then Bonehead Bill added, "Ok, but where am I getting the bus to?". Upon hearing this, I was filled with sudden explosive rage. A stack of XFiles DVDs that never did any harm to anyone only a few yards away from me almost got a good kicking. Somehow my mouth acted before my foot and the X-Files DVDs were spared from the tumultuous fate of being Wayne Rooney'd across my living room. I yelled over and over like a possessed army general giving his orders, "The airport you fucking halfwit! Get to the airport. Get to the fucking airport!".

Spurred in to action, Bonehead Bill sprinted off round Lettershandoney, ducking for cover at the first sign of an Irish accent and attempted to find the village's one bus stop. Eventually, the call comes through, Bonehead Bill has Lettershandoney's one bus stop in sight. Hallelujah. "Great", I tell him, "When's the next bus?". This question is not immediately answered and my man on the ground alerts me to an all new problem. The bus stop is currently being guarded by a couple of members of this Irish family.

Bonehead Bill mentions that one of them has received a call with an order saying to, "Guard the bus stop. Don't leave it for any reason. That Gobshite Bill isn't leaving Lettershand oney" Even my idiotic friend knew this did present quite a problem. We couldn't act too quickly on this one. Our plans were put on standby. We had us a stalemate.

Our next move had to be planned very carefully. Lives were at stake. This took some time but all of a sudden an idea began to emerge. I called Bonehead Bill and simply said, 'Zugzwang'. As expected, he didn't have a clue what this word meant. Any chesshead worth his salt will know this is a German word literally translated as "compulsion to move". Yes, we had to force a move. These punks had to leave their stations. But how to make a couple of Irish lads abandon their posts? Well, I checked the next bus's time of arrival and googled local takeaways. To the end of my days, I will forever have a love for The Great Wall Chinese Takeaway, they got us out of a tough spot that day. If ever you're in the area of Drumahoe, check in on these great guys who more than did us a favour. Arranged for them to do a delivery about 2 minutes before that next bus was showing up. Ordered it to the nearest house but put in the notes to 'drop off by the bus stop'. Brought Bonehead in on the plans and told him to sprint on to the bus as soon as he got the a chance. This is "Operation Dinner Out"

Everything goes to plan, the unfortunate delivery guy shows up expecting a simple drop and here he got two Irish lads kicking off screaming that they "never ordered a fucking Blackbean Sauce" and how they would kick this guys "fucking head in" if he didn't leave in the "next 5 seconds". To aggravate the situation further, I put that the delivery was to be paid in cash. So there was great argument about how this was to be paid. Of course, I used Bonehead's email for all this, no way I want this traced back to me or have my accounts ruined because of his mess.

Ordered these guys a couple of "C2 Specials". That meant the choice of a main, prawn toast, rib, veg spring roll, curry triangles, wonton rice, small chips and prawn crackers. For the mains I went with the aforementioned Blackbean Sauce and a King Prawn Chow Mein. Can't say I didn't spoil these guys. Easy to do when you're not paying. Whilst that side to it was being figured, Bonehead Bill slipped on the bus undetected and finally left Lettershadoney. I was proud of him. Felt like we were Dicaprio and Crowe in Body of Lies. I, the man at the desk, staring at a screen, orchestrating the mission from the safety of my home. Bonehead, my eyes and ears on the ground, the ultimate field operative. Got so excited, I gave The Great Wall Chinese Takeaway 5 stars on google for their troubles and the incredible hand they played in the successful mission "Operation Dinner Out"

Whilst the most dangerous part of bringing Bonehead Bill home was over, another problem soon came apparent. After checking all of his pockets thrice over, Bonehead concluded he must have lost his cash and would not be able to pay for the flight home. My next question was, "Card?". And naturally this was also lost too. This didn't matter too much, the fucker didn't even have money in his account to begin with. Any way you looked at it, we were fucked. I surrendered my money and got the freak a flight home. Ryanair of course, I wasn't forking out on the bastard. Even had to book Mr B a train from Manchester Airport. Bonehead Bill promises to pay me back and he will.

As a result of Bonehead's fuck up, I'd been bled dry. This little stunt had left us beerless. It would be a lie to say this didn't have an impact on this weeks movie. A few beers would have smoothed this tonal disaster for sure. If you'd seen some of the reviews out for this movie, you'd be convinced it was decent. Exactly the reason we put it on. Well, Bonehead was a little hesitant to watch this Moloch because a lot of it is in Dutch.

He tends to see subtitles as a personal attack and threat to his masculine front. He refers to them as "ableist" because they mock his limited reading capabilities. That's why I don't mind chatting shit about him on here because even if he could be arsed to read it, he probably wouldn't be able to anyway. But he does enjoy the "pictures" though. Something he reminds me every time I send a link his way. After Bonehead's expected disapproval of subtitled films, I reminded him how much money he owed me and he quickly shut the fuck up.

Moloch is a movie about an abhorrent menace sweeping the countryside. A ghostly figure terrorising a family by slitting the throats vertically of all the female members. Every generation it comes back for the kill. I don't know how you feel about family curse movies but for me they kind of peaked with the 2000s classic Holes. The Yelnats cinematic legacy is so strong you have to wonder why any sane individual would even try to compete in this day and age. The clear winner is there, the battle has been fought and won. Unfortunately, these Dutch dudes did not get the message. Too much of the wacky backy and space cakes gone to their head. How else do you explain trying to challenge the greatest western of all time? Yes, I am still, for your information, talking about Holes. There are a minute number of things I would say this Moloch has going for it. Lead actress Sallie Harmsen is a genuine blonde baddie that makes the countryside more inviting than ever. Make no mistake, she's so attractive she'll have you convinced what you really need in life is an earned break from hard labour, some R and R in the countryside and a shot at temporary romance. Alexandre Williams plays a suave gentleman who takes up this rather pleasant offer. Although, Bonehead and I simply took to calling this geezer Christian Eriksen on the account that he happens to look the spitting image of him and is even Danish.

The pair of them strike up a sizzling romance in the arse end of nowhere. Any scenes of them investigating the local curse and romantically forming a bond works well. We're not talking Fincher mind you. More TV investigative thriller at best but we've all got our guilty pleasures. This is mine.

Christian Eriksen takes his time with his courting process but when these finally begin banging, it is by a country mile the best scene in the entire movie. Suddenly, we have an aggressive moody outdoor fuck in the mud like something out of Antichrist or Sightseers. Nothing but the good stuff. Never anything on the level of the films mentioned but credit when the goods are delivered you know. Turned to Bonehead Bill and asked if he got "up to any moody outdoor mud fucking with Shauna in Ireland?" Apparently, this was the very reason he was forced to leave the place.

His Irish adopted family loved him so much they wanted him to stick around longer. For the life of me I couldn't tell you why. However, everything was meant to be going stupendously until the question of money entered the picture. That's when the tensions began and trouble entered paradise. The family set him up with a job on their Aunt Beatrice's farm. Bonehead Bill foolishly agreed to this, he never should have done such a thing because that man does not do hard work. It never agreed with him. Not that I have ever worked alongside Bonehead Bill but I can imagine he'd be the guy on your shift that constantly moves around doing anything but work. Every hour on the dot you see him come past and he shouts something stupid like "Oi Oi!", does some gun fingers, awkwardly engages in conversation with you about your weekend and moves on to his next victim on the rotation. Clockwork.

So at just about every opportunity, Bonehead would neglect his duties and try to "chat up Shauna". This moron doesn't really grasp the fact when you avoid work on a farm, it's easy to notice. Either the job is done or it is not.

One of Shauna's brothers began to notice the lack of set jobs being completed and grew suspicious of Bonehead's minimal output. Consequently, he decided to check on the situation one afternoon. When he caught Bonehead Bill preforming the art of cunnilingus on his baby sister in a boggy field he was not best pleased and did not take to kindly to it. He ragged Bonehead by the collar, threw him to the ground and went to collect his brothers. Bonehead's time was up. As he picked the straw off his tongue and quickly searched for his socks, he knew he was about to know the true meaning of Johnny Cash's late career hit, 'Hurt'. This must have been the moment I got a text message which read, "Kelly, I don't want to work on Maggie's farm no more!" Sent him a message back just saying, "Range Life's over sunshine". No reply came back my way as a sockless Bonehead Bill had to spend the next 45 minutes leaping fence to fence and field to field. Hard as a rock, my man made the countryside his playground. You can be sure he got his steps in that day.

Throughout all Bonehead's explanation, one thing was troubling me. "Weren't you working on a plan to win over Shauna's mother?", I queried. Bonehead Bill did not have an answer for that, he just exhaled and shook his head. Oh God, this dingbat really does have the best of intentions. He tries, he tries his best. After that long detour, back to where we're supposed to be, the Dutch countryside. It's obvious what Moloch is trying to be, an atmospheric rural horror. It lacks the eccentric comedy and violence of the British version of this kind of movie. It's not Witchfinder General, Blood on Satan's Claw or The Wicker Man. Far fucking from it. It's not even Rawhead Rex but let's face it, what is?

Instead, it is more akin to the Italian gateway horrors like The Beyond. Except Fulci and Frizzi didn't show up to work today. They were trying to go for this very cerebral horror where you can totally feel the evil spirits lurking in the spaces.

Unfortunately, the music isn't all that striking or ambitious enough to make it all come alive sonically speaking like it was supposed to. Here's the big issue though, if you think the scores far too generic and average, wait til you take in the direction. The score I can forgive, its passable and somewhat on the right lines. As for the capturing of images, these are far too tame for Kelly's liking. The closest they even get to making the movie work on a sonic atmospheric level it should have been was the underwater fish and vibrations. Appreciated what it was trying to do there even if it was underdeveloped.

Always hate saying this but this movie definitely worked better in its quieter moments. Any time it went for loud and attention grabbing the whole movie collapsed. It was about functioning as a fun shitty detective thriller but any time it went in to the spiritual and the bold it failed drastically. Director didn't have the tools. Wasn't in the old locker. About every 5 minutes I'd turn to Bonehead and say "why is this film misbehaving?! Why does it want to ruin itself so much!" What I mean by this is that there are elements that hold your interest and then these silly ideas keep creeping in like an unwanted guest. For example, slow moody scene, a man breaks in the house and sits drinking a glass of milk. Creepy and effective scene, especially considering our protagonist is a female in that situation. Seconds later this intruder was howling to the moon like an American you know what in London. No just no. Not sure what they were thinking on that one. Generally, I'm supportive of strange little moments to catch you off guard but if it's not your strength and you haven't got it in the arsenal, don't even bother. Felt like grabbing hold of this devious director and saying, "Come on good sir, this is not you. You're not built for it"

What we needed here was less scenes like the one where she's in the lift looking at the mirror with really unadventurous visuals and more subdued scenes of the blonde baddie and Christian Eriksen in the pub questioning people. Bless those two talented actors, they were the only ones keeping the ship together. Had they got the balance better I could have let this off.

That ending didn't help anyone though. Right Hereditary is a really great movie but you know that last 5 minutes where it threatens to ruin itself around about when the nude people come in? Well, the third act of Moloch is about a thousand times worse and I swear to God was lifting shots straight from it. On some level, I can forgive Hereditary because there's a bunch of dudes hanging dong and I find it rather amusing. Moloch does not attempt a single brave visual and comes off utterly pathetic. Instead, Moloch's visuals are more like a bad sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean without Captain Jack's charm. Fuck the ghosts, what we really wanted here was more of Christian Eriksen and his blonde baddie moody outdoor fucking.

Neither myself nor Bonehead liked this movie. He hated it so much that he said he was picking the next one. Reminded him that he could pick the next movie the second his debts are settled. Bonehead must have really disliked the movie because just before he left, he asked if he could pay me back through editing and assembling the zine as he knows I hate that part. Told him, "Nice try Bonehead but you'd fuck it up even worse than I do". He was fully right though, I do need an editor. Added that I could also do with an artist, "you know like a cartoonist", I said to him. "Cartoons?", he asked baffled.

"Yeah. I'm thinking I need a Ralph Steadman", I said and curiously waited on a response. Bonehead Bill begins nodding vigorously, reacting to this idea as he takes his hand off the door handle. Rocking back and forth, he works up an answer and finally replies, "Yesssssss go on lad, get Gonzo!". After this comment, he slips off in to the night ready to commit heinous mischief to a world unsuspecting. A cursed child, his motto: "Gotta do it to them before they do it to us, son!" Pray that you never become, "them".

Bonus Points:

-Christian Eriksen finding the time in between his busy football schedule to make a movie

-The blonde baddie and Christian Eriksen undertaking in some heavy questioning down at the boozer

-The blonde baddie and Christian Eriksen engaging in moody outdoor fucking

-Using goldfish as an analogy for how the spirit forces send messages and make people do their bidding

Overall Score: 2/5

On the Prowl is the brainchild of porn star legend Jamie Gillis. A curly haired sleazeball who's worked with all the greats like Radley Metzger, Roger Watkins, Gregory Dark, Gerard Damiano, William Lustig, Bob Chinn, The Amero brothers, Alex De Renzy, Roberta Findlay, John Leslie and even Wes Craven. Outside of his pornos, action and horror afficionados will recognise him from his roles in Night Hawks, 52 Pick Up Street and Night of the Zombies. Given his expansive catalogue, let's just say he's been around the block. It is not his first rodeo.

Fast forward to 1989, the '70s porno chic and theatre releasing model had come and gone. Videotape 80s were nearly over and Gillis was starting to become exceptionally bored with the trajectory of the industry. Things were not moving quick enough for this seasoned vet of the hardcore arena. Anything stamped with the infamous X rating was becoming tiresome to him. All the fake moaning and blatant choreography went to his head. Never again did he want to hear the sound of a woman pretending to be pleased. What happened to the joy of sex? When did it become so robotic and emotionless? Why did males look so absent and elsewhere during the supposedly intimate scenes? The stars were too focused on the pay checks. This annoyed Gillis and the man had enough.

Pornography had to grow. If it was have any chance of remaining relevant in the public eye, it had to develop into something new. This man, this honourable man, undertook this as his personal mission, taking a thousand million cocks in the palm of his hand, ready to keep an entire nation hard and sustain the fuck of life. So what does this off the wall nutcase do? He takes a few notes from the King of New Journalism himself, Hunter S. Thompson and so the genre Gonzo Porno is born.

Balls Deep in Gonzo Porno

If it was going to be anyone, it was going to be Mr Gillis. Let's be clear, Gillis is no idiot. Now this is an actual fact, which if you doubt me, you can give it a Google. This man studied at Columbia University. I know, crazy right, an educated porn star but that's not the craziest part. They say he graduated magna CUM Laude. I'm sorry. I couldn't resist throwing that one in there. Gillis's big contribution to porn, after his proportionate penis of course, is the new sub-genre he helped to create. Gonzo Porno takes the idea of putting the journalist/writer in to the heart of the story. In doing so, you add a much more personal touch with the first person narrative. Removes the detached element. As I've mentioned, that was something Gillis thought was ruining porn. Therefore, it was Gonzo filmmaking that would prove a combative technique against the detachment in porn.

Curious as to how all this would work in the context of porn? On the Prowl, which birthed it is a perfect example. In this film, Gillis rides around in a limo with porn actress Renee Morgan (a fearless brunette and regular collaborator with De Renzy and Leslie). They spend the night attempting to pick up anyone off the street they can find who is willing to fool around in the backseat on camera. Their search for the next young stud is part of the story itself. So they drive around the streets, looking to score and stopping off at the heels of anyone who looks in need of a good fuck. They pose the question to anyone who will listen. And I for one, must say it's pretty tempting offer. Who wouldn't want to spray the magic bullet in the back of a black limousine? Personally, if I was asked where to shoot the load, face or chest, I would have to say, "Back and to the left!".

Gillis's offer to the average joe off the street is near total freedom. Anything they want to do. No money involved. No requirements. No direction. No choreography. No names. No regulars. No scripts. Straight up amateurs on the spot like you or me ready to enter a world of pornography they'd only seen on the screen or a daydreamed on a dull afternoon. Tonight you're the star. All your fantasies are coming true and you're dictating it. Your co-star? Who better than a professional to show you the ropes with your first time in the porn game!

The result is one wild night out which constitutes about 65 minutes of film. This whole social experiment had never been done before, something which Gillis points out in the movie. I'd be guessing here but I'd assume he got the idea from his cab driving days when picking up and dropping was a regular fixture in his life. Maybe somewhere along the line, he thought to himself, I sure would love to fuck some of these passengers. Who are these people? For 20 minutes or so you share the same space and exchange stories. Then they leave never to be seen again, such is the bond between passenger and taxi driver. What if that hook up went a little further and in that brief moment of intimacy it wasn't just words shared but genitalia? If you think this sounds rather a lot like Fake Taxi, then maybe it isn't such a leap to make. On the Prowl is even credited with launching the whole concept of 'reality porn'. Gillis's little experiment was a totally fresh and unique thing, which expanded the entire notion of what a porno could be and who could star in it.

In many cases, pornographers would be against such a lack of blocking as it can seem ill-prepared and too stilted. Often, with the viewer unable to get their desired money shots etc. However, in the case of On the Prowl, you have to make an exception. It's arguably a great artistic endeavour. Another thing it took further was the entire nature of POV in pornography. From the perspective of having a director as a character to the feeling that even you could be part of the story too. Adds a new layer of fantasy to the proceedings. Breaks up the repetitiveness and formula of porn and replaces it with something truly unpredictable.

Who knows where it could go and what could happen next? What if a passenger turned nasty and went all violent on Renee Morgan, our incredible leading lady? What if the worst of the worst happened, some street stud went and came inside?! Such is the nature of working with non-professionals who are unfamiliar with the elaborate contraceptive method of 'pulling out'. That aspect keeps this film constantly on edge and kinky with a sense of danger and unpredictability.

Is the female star being exploited here or is this a sort of fantasy for her? You'll wonder who's fantasy does this really belong to, male or female. In that manner, it's similar to the Mitchell Brothers' Behind the Green Door. Perhaps, this could have played with that angle more. If the woman has to do very little and receives plenty of oral and suckling of the tit, then maybe it could be considered feminist. A female driven round at night and given male partners tasked with providing pleasure would be interesting. Unfortunately, like with Behind the Green Door, this appears to be more about being offered a space to fuck a female porn star. The male passenger doesn't need to move, pussy will come to him. Potentially making this a male dominant fantasy.

Undeniably, there is a lot of opportunity for the female star to be exploited in this situation. A strong relationship and trust in the director is essential. Alternatively, maybe many women would be rather fond of this erotic fantasy, knowing that they could please any guy off the street and the numbers would be like trophies. A world of women collecting men's joy juice like the titular Predator from the Schwarzenegger movie collecting skulls. Anyway, I'm undecided on this one. Difficult to shape a narrative when the goal is to be as unpredictable as possible but I think they may have considered these things in the later entries in the series, which incorporate lesbian scenes.

Watching On the Prowl is like being invited on the experience ready to commit some really appalling acts in the back of this limo. You're there with them. You try to fight with the camera, one step ahead of it, wanting to see more than that which is given and that too is part of the sleazy aesthetic. We can't quite see all the action and that little restriction somehow makes it even sexier.

Lighting, sound and all your typical production values are far from a glamorous hit porno. It's certainly not soft porn legend Tinto Brass. No, this is about witnessing something truly dirty and depraved. That is what Mr Gillis presents to you. Whatever it sacrifices in production values, it more than makes up for with its kinky perspective.

The black limos tinted windows keep out society's watchful glare, hiding the frenzy of aberrant action taking place on the back seat. Only thin sheets of glass and metal separating you from another Sapien. Sex in an automobile has always had a perverse thrill, especially considering it's about as close as you can get to spontaneous outdoor sex in public without doing the real thing. Not quite as boring as sex in the home and not quite as outrageous as sex in public outdoors. A perfect middle ground for the curiously adventurous. This limo truly meets all purposes as you cruise along on a cold dark night under its jet black guise committing lustful and lurid acts. Fans of JG Ballard, Gary Numan, Don DeLillo and the mighty JFK gather round because this is the film for you fellas.

Leave the safety of your building, walk to the edge of the pavement and wait for your chariot to arrive. It picks you up, takes you around, let's you perform your most twisted fantasies and then it takes them away life a black coffin in to the night. Unsuspecting townsfolk navigating their terrain only yards away from you have no idea of the unspeakable horrors taking place in this macabre and morbid motorcade. But will they see it in some sleazy grindhouse on 42nd in a few weeks or will they come across it by chance on Xhamster many years down the line? You gamble with your own anonymity, your fantasies carried out at the potential price of secrecy.

A ticking time bomb that may someday go off. A little like being offered a million pounds but being told a small creature is going to spend the rest of your life crawling towards you and could someday kill you. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in 30 years time. Maybe never. That is the game you play, when you enter Jamie Gillis's black limousine.

Part of the deal is that you sign a sheet saying Gillis owns the material and has the right to exhibit when and where he pleases. You control what occurs in the porno but not where it is shown. Hence the emphasis on near total freedom. Gillis's switch from mere director to actor in his own film searching for new talent, even scared him so badly he decided to call his own lawyer, just to make sure everything was ok legally speaking. In comes First Amendment Attorney John Weston. Our voice of the law has just one thing to say, "Are you crazy? Burn it! Bury it!" Inexperienced actors so fresh of the street, unvetted can mean rare genuine response far removed from pornography's usual mechanical nature. However, there was a reason no-one had done this before.

Attempting this promotes so many questions and here's a big one. What if you pick up some rich kid, a celebrity's spoilt spawn or even a politician's son and they come down hard on law suits? No one had ever combined porn and the public like this so boldly. Puts porn right in to the open like never before. No longer can it be swept under the rug and live on its own anonymity. It's not happening in some cheap motel hired for the day but in the streets. It's not some stunning actress you've never heard of or a random well-endowed dude. It's you. You are the porn.

How did this dirty little smutpeddler respond to the being told to burn his own movie? He said, "Thanks John", hung up and used this as part of the marketing. Stuck it straight on the label as the tagline, "This tape is so hot even our lawyer said burn it!"

You have to give it to the smut peddlers and the exploitationers, noone knows how to market a film like they could. More often than not, these tools are better than the movie itself. Too many films these days reveal too much in the trailer and the promotion is all the same. In fairness to these guys, they were imaginative and always kept it surprising (at least in the advertising anyway). Gillis put the film together pretty quickly, which wasn't too difficult as many of the sexual acts are filmed in single takes with very little cuts to different angles. On those terms, you could have grounds of argument for this being more successful than Hunter S. Thompson's experiment Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Thompson's intention with that was to be an unedited record of everything he did as it was occurring. Despite this, he went back and edited it 5 times. There is not an editor credited online from what I can see for

On the Prowl but I doubt they took as long attempting to reconstruct the experience of that one night. Yep, my man respectfully earns the title of Gonzo Gillis, The Godfather of Gonzo Porno. Having said that we simply cannot disrespect the founding father of this precious movement.

Gonzo Gillis was able to sell copies of

On the Prowl for $20 a tape. Mostly unheard of back then. These things normally sold for $10 a pop. Double the asking price and people were going for it! You cannot downplay that which is truly new.

Did the filmmakers get in trouble for their great artistic achievement? Of course they did. Turned out they did pick up some somebodies. Two Us Navy sailors to be precise. One of which the Navy had been wanting to get rid of for some time so were using it as an excuse to drop him. Once Gillis hears this he explains that there were two sailors who got in the car that night and the one they were trying to boot didn't even take part.

It wouldn't be the first time the US government and its forces would incorrectly identify an individual and pin it on the wrong man. There was a second shooter firing off loads in that limo but once again this was ignored. When they have their man, they have their man. Gillis even threatened to take this story to the press. This shut the US Navy right up and the pair of those two horn dogs were able to maintain their beloved marine lifestyles. Making pornos and rattling the US Navy. Jamie Gillis everybody. What a king.

Personally, I'd have loved a '30 Years Later' documentary trying to locate all the lunatics picked up on that one night. Half tempted to go looking for them myself and hit them up demanding more information on who they were and what they were doing on that fateful night Jamie Gillis picked them up and made them star. I wonder if any of them have advanced their porn careers. Got a taste from their first time in front of the camera and wanted more. I tell you, we're in desperate need of a 'Where are they now?'. Truthfully, they're probably all playing house with kids of their own now and trying to pretend this never happened. The last person they want is Jacob Kelly knocking on their door asking them about their one uncredited porn experience.

There is in fact a weird people watching element to this film. Gets you thinking who are these gentlemen and where did they come from?

Inevitably, you get to see genuine embarrassment and a clear lack of confidence from these dudes doing threesomes with their pals and not having a clue where to look or put their hands. A rare human awkwardness. Ah the unwritten rules of the threesome, the most complicated politics there ever was.

Definitely not what you're expecting to see in a porno. Those guys know the drills when it comes to things like sword crossing. Plus they can always yell "cut" so if there was any disagreements over who's occupying what space at what time, it does not really enter the finished film so you'd never see it happen. At one point in On the Prowl, in a raw and realistic moment, a shagger says the condom is coming "off" and then he launches it at the floor. Has a crazy edge to it. Plenty of little things crop up that you aren't really used to in this field, far from the expected porn behaviours. A mighty sense of realism. The camera and its subjects play roles here you have never seen in a porno before thanks to Gillis's Gonzo approach. Went on to inspire countless other porn directors to do the same and make themselves part of the action.

If the entire set up of On the Prowl seems familiar, that's because you've seen it parodied in Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights (my favourite movie of all time). Alternatively, Anderson's 'On the Lookout' segment takes a much darker turn exploring the unpredictability in the scenario even further and veering in to the violence and danger. In his version, the porn star actress is mistreated and in retaliation, the street kid is beaten to a pulp and left lying in his own blood on the kerb but not before he takes a rollerblade stomp to the face. The message is clear, you do not fuck with Rollergirl or insult a porn director whose career is on the decline.

Gillis's response to the 'On the Lookout' segment of Boogie Night was not one of love or appreciation. He was not amused, he hated it. Left him furious and disturbed to see his work (intended as pleasure for millions) turned in to something so vile. According to Gillis, it was not respectful homage but an inverse of everything he had spent his career trying to do. He saw himself as doing something fun and actually quite noble with his film. Obviously, Gillis was fully aware that his work was sleazy and dirty but in all his years working, he believed he'd never seen anything as revolting as Boogie Nights. Made him need to take a good long shower. Pretty heavy when you rattle a seasoned vet in to the Pontius Pilate treatment like that. Love that from PTA.

Above all else, from beginning to end, On the Prowl will have you thinking one question: would I take part in this? That black limo pulls up right now, are you getting in and living out your fantasies? Suddenly you're thrown in to being a star of the screen. The Johnny Wadd. The Linda Lovelace. Such a life does seem appealing to me. The amount of times you've thought with your genitals and not your brain. What if you could turn those thoughts in to money? A total rebirth of Jacob Kelly. Sure, I could see myself in a whole series of pornos playing some private investigator who hangs dong. An endless stream of cheap stunts and an inescapable air of sleaze.

However, I'd also love something quieter. Similar to the idea of being a writer of multiple discreetly subversive creature features in the '50s, which I mentioned a few weeks ago in Issue #1. I have often envisioned and daydreamed another life for myself as Juan Peterson, the greatest stunt cock in porn history. Single handedly lending lives to those unable to get it up on the big occasion and rescuing my fellow man from total embarrassment. The unsung hero of the porn game. Where others fail, Juan Peterson would never fail. He's got your back. Living in the shadows, always on call and ready to rescue his non-erect fellow males. His secret, he's always hard. You ring him up and in 9 minutes flat he's there like Winston Wolf in his silver Acura 1992 NSX, locked and loaded, ready to go. He rolls up to the pavement with Devo's Jerkin Back and Forth blaring from the car speakers. The key does its little dance in the ignition and the engine switches off. He adjusts his sunglasses and walks over like a man on a mission. All you have to do is point him in the direction of pussy, feed him a few lines of coke and he's good to go. As Juliet is the sun, he will get the money shot. A failure to launch a thing of the past. Houston, we don't have a problem.

On the other hand, is being picked up off the street by a porn posse in a jet black limo and drunkenly agreeing to star in a porno for the world to see your idea of a nightmare? I understand it, I really do. I have no doubts whatsoever that after strolling home from a gaff one night, I could be stopped and drunkenly cajoled in to starring in a porno for Jamie Gillis. Overcome by horniness and unwilling to think about the consequences. In that state, the decision would be made for me. I would be thrusted into an entirely different world. The thin mask of Jacob Kelly and the hackneyed regular life that he built for himself would slip from its already weak bindings and Juan Peterson would take over. There can be only Juan. I will forever live in fear of a jet black limo stopping just mere yards away from my feet on a dark night.

Bonus Points:

-Single headedly creating Gonzo Porno

-The Ballardian vibes of it all

-The voyeuristic people watching element

-Rattling the US Navy

-Inspiring Boogie Nights

Overall Score: 4.5/5

Pictured leftJuan Peterson: the greatest stunt cock in porn history

The Sunglasses Stay on During Sex

For many their cinematic origin story begins with Jean-Luc Godard. He's a reference point for a great deal of people as to when they first became aware of the presence of a director. For me, the discovery was a two part process. Firstly, with Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and then continued with Godard's Breathless. Both of these two directors are cinemas greatest giants of post-modernist filmmaking. To watch them is to meet the art form head on for all that it is and can be. Although, they both fit in to the same bracket of post-modernism, they're very different and yet my responses to their works can be quite similar at times.

They're united in the sense that they're probably two of the most dangerous and deadly people with a camera. Two of cinemas greatest students, who really mastered its vocabulary. After a while Godard began picking up more political texts and wanted to reflect this knowledge he was gaining in his movies to inspire and convert others. Unlike many other filmmakers, at his best he could be influenced by literary sources and use them to advance film rather than to limit it. Also, I don't think many other filmmakers can claim to be as angry and politically in your face as Godard was in his Maoist period.

Unfortunately, his desire to incorporate more serious themes and embrace other mediums could cause him to sometimes resort to having people just reading poetry and books at the camera. Luckily, sometimes he made such an act cool by using it as a style. Occasionally, even I'll admit I do think after a long passage being read out, get a grip you little edge lord, no wonder everyone thinks you're the OG self-absorbed soft boy art hoe (this coming from a place of love trust me, I think he's brilliant). Every now and then though I do think come on fella stop being so immature, you're better than that childish nonsense.

On the other hand, you've got Tarantino who when you think about it, seems more inspired by the US remake of Breathless, starring Richard Gere. For years, I avoided seeing that movie I couldn't fathom why or even how the US could remake a movie which mocked them. I couldn't figure out if they were so unaware and clueless. Like it had to be the dumbest idea the yanks ever had for a remake. When I finally watched it, I realised its highly satirical but for the life of me, I couldn't work out what level it was working on other than to say it was God damn hilarious. Still I wonder is the remake mocking itself, mocking the original, mocking the original mocking itself, accidentally coming what the original was mocking or simply doing its complete own thing? After all this time, no answers have come my way.

I never thought I'd end up preferring the remake to the original but it happened, sorry nerds. Gere's version got absolutely destroyed on release but in many ways it does what the original tries to do but better, it's a greater success. That whole self-referencing and mocking of pop culture is more suited to the yanks. Can you really beat the yanks at their own game, that over the top and excessive personality? There's a reason these people make better creature features than us Brits. We make them too realistic and they end up with a bunch of gentlemen galloping round desperately trying to keep a lid on the chaos. Whereas, the yanks take everything to eleven like it's in the blood. They are the movies and everything dumb, surreal and stupid that comes with it.

Sorry Godard, you made a belter but there's no topping that one scene when Richard Gere has a full breakdown, we're talking all his usual ticks of blinking and breathing, strips himself down naked and runs in to the shower to join his girlfriend all while singing Elvis Presley. Instead, the original has a 10 minute scene of Belmondo chatting wham in a bedroom to Seberg. If only Belmondo could operate on horny hound Gere's level and sing bangers whilst naked then I'd hail the original film the winner. Didn't happen though. I know which one I'm backing. Oh God, I love that Breathless remake, can't sing its praises enough. The soundtrack, the comedy, the comics. Gere carries the flame of rockabilly like the suitcase in Pulp Fiction.

Tarantino's post modernism is this hip blending of cinema and rock'n'roll history. No one does that cooler. It comes more natural to him than to Godard. When Tarantino's characters discuss movies, it seems far less arty and flows off the tongue. It's not verbatim poetry reading but dudes just being dudes chatting cinema. However, Tarantino's problem was that he never graduated that much past his ability to surf the waves of pop culture and really learn how to use those excellent technical abilities of his with a camera to do more meaningful stuff. Godard uses it as a weapon to seduce the masses but Tarantino for nothing other than a good time (which is fine in the escapist sense unless you're a nerd). Although, never aggressively political, Tarantino can tell some lovely stories which focus on female and black characters with Jackie Brown and Kill Bill

Also, he mastered his own meta world with Inglorious Basterds by setting it in a cinema and having Hitler brutally murdered in his cartoon world making everyone pop culture obsessed violent freaks. You've got to admire someone who maps out the motivations of all the characters of his entire cinematic universe like that.

Even with Once Upon a Time in Hollywood he's turned himself and his characters in to the film police correcting all society's wrongs to cinematic figures like killing Sharon Tate. As silly as it is, it's so bold and funny I'll always go for it. However, at the back of my mind it's always there that he never expanded in to the political and more meaningful like Godard did later in his career. It's on this point, that also makes me respond to Tarantino in a similar way by thinking as dudes rock as it is, it still seems like the mind of infantile man, not that I don't love the escapism. He's got the tools, he could do better. That's coming from a fan.

So yeah both of these fantastic post-modern artists can suffer from immaturity at times and be accused of playing with nonsense too much. Even The Beatles did that now and then. However, I've got a lot of love for what they do and what they've achieved. I'll always defend them against these takes that you learn to outgrow them. Na, never could me. Their flaws only make me laugh at this stage.

I find that take about outgrowing them so snarky, especially when it's older film fans directed at young fans, like come on pack that shit in pal, be critical of them but you don't have to rip in to young fans for liking them so much. Remember we all started somewhere. No-one came out the womb being able to understand every single moment in Bergman's Persona. So show some respect as Jose Mourinho would say. To those kind of snidey older film fans mocking the kids like that, I ask was it Tarantino and Godard that got you in to this game in the first place? Even if it wasn't, surely you've got to appreciate the number of people these guys initiated and got the ball rolling with their rather likeable pop art.

Going back to the beginning with Breathless. This was said to rewrite the rules of cinema. You can see that from the first few moments when Godard literally films this shooting of a police officer but none of the editing matches what you've become used to, allowing you to at the bare minimum come aware of the process of a set of shots and even rethink the sequence and eventually add a separate meaning. It's a rejection of traditional Hollywood filmmaking.

Once you become aware of the process, you start to realise how much Hollywood has manipulated you over the years and how they guide you to a certain outcome or feeling with a strict pattern of shots. Can become quite repulsive and even a little life ruining as you realise how ugly Hollywood films can be and the way they have coded your thinking with subtle liberal propaganda. It's important to note here, that when you watch breathless what you're doing here is not learning cinema but relearning cinema. Re-learning anything is always more shattering for some reason. It can't even be understated that in this case you're re-coding your brain and your entire response to images.

All these years, coming to terms with the fact Hollywood has literally been guiding you and coercing you to certain conclusions and reactions they want from you. Watching Breathless is like those sunglasses in John Carpenter's They Live, once you put them on everything changes. The way you look at cinema and read it is never the same. After a while, it comes to a point where you just get increasingly pissed off by Hollywood telling you how to think all the time and so many highly regarded US popular films come shitter because you think wait I don't agree with that at all. It's bullshit you know. For me personally, I can never hack the conformity and lack of revenge and violence in Hollywood cinema. It puts out this message of turning the other cheek and so no-one could ever challenge the capitalist system.

Sometimes, it'll get so bad you start praising a fascist fantasy like the Dirty Harry films just cause they're more radical in challenging the bureaucracy. Legal thrillers in Hollywood movies tend to make me sick. They lack a cynical touch. The characters always have such faith in the law. The system is never broke! Justice will be served. Only time they ever got interesting with that stuff was the postWatergate thrillers like Three Days of the Condor, All the President's Men and The Parallax View that actually had some balls.

Amongst all that re-interpretation of images in Breathless you've also got the hilarious mocking of Hollywood noirs and crime films, which I love. If you're a Humphrey Bogart fan, it gets better every time and if you're not go watch The Big Sleep. Better yet, when you watch it, smoke every time a character smokes. The final scene will have you on a breathing machine for months due to the amount of excessive lung damage you're going to do. The story goes on that one that the cast were told to reduce smoking as it was becoming so popular in noirs and was promoting bad health practices for audiences, so this only encouraged them to go through more and break records.

That's one aspect that's important to remember. Breathless and the French new wave was never about a complete hating of Hollywood as some try to make out but rather an inverse or re-building. They have a lot of love and respect for some directors that came out of the studio system and even taught the Americans who they should be loving. If it wasn't for the French, the westerns would still be a disregarded genre. Plus it was the French's criticism, which gave some directors another chance at respectability due to Auteur theory. Hitchcock was only considered a populist filmmaker when he started. It was the French who saw the art in his work and the links in his suspense to Fritz Lang and German Expressionism.

Due to Auter Theory, a director's body of works could be appreciated as a whole and so people like Nicholas Ray's on going themes of isolation and inter-struggles of individuals fitting in to society could become apparent like never before. Above all though, the French were about critiquing the studio system and so B movies could be respected for the first time and deemed worthy of study. These French dudes are the very reason Samuel Fuller gets a little more attention and for that I'll always love them. He's one of my favourite directors of all time. What's my obsession with Fuller? He has this Malickian love of space. He picks a location, then fills them with fun B movie noir characters and plenty of subtext lurking underneath the surface. The ideas go to war with each raging in the background. They work as entertainment but there's always so much more to play around with as he throws everything in to the mix. It's an incredible model. The guys doesn't even get enough time or credit but he'd have absolutely none if it wasn't for those French chiefs, so eternal gratitude only.

Fuller will pick a hospital, a war battleground or even a dog kennel and he turns them in to these timeless sites where his ideas and the ghosts of the places can collide and attack each other. To watch them is to experience relentless creativity brimming as these selected locations are on fire with competing notions straight from Fuller's own head. Imagine something like The Overlook in The Shining with all the native American and Nazi imagery and you're on the right path. His cinema is just so alive, if you really want to check it out (and you should) I'd recommend Shock Corridor, White Dog and Steel Helmet. As you can tell, I'm a huge fan of his model of filmmaking.

Breathless does have its negatives on rewatches. These are mainly in its more self-indulgent moments such as long drawn out dialogue scenes. Godard achieves this disregarding of plot driven storytelling but at times it does come at a price. Stationary scenes can really damage the momentum. You will be sat there at times thinking come on Godard, you made your point 5 minutes ago, let's get on with it fella! Regardless of its flaws, the film gets away with it to a large degree because of how fresh it is. It doesn't matter if you don't think it's a smooth ride masterpiece, it's a document which captured a lot of what the French new wave was about. Criticising it that way would be like calling Dogme 95 shit for cinematography. Any flaws can be forgiven because it is his debut and it's meant to be abrasive achieving what it needed to. Consequently, it has survived as an essential text of the period. However, we can't stop there, it was only the beginning!

The story of the French new wave goes back to the 50s when a bunch of dudes like Andre Bazin, Robert Bresson, Jean Cocteau and Alexandre Astruc joined forces from two different film clubs, Objectif 49 and Cine-Club du Quarter to develop the magazine Cahiers du Cinema. Later a bunch of younger writers would join the roster such as Eric Rohmer, Jacques Rivette, Jean-Luc Godard, Claude Chabrol and Francois Truffaut.

All of which went on to be influential filmmakers themselves in the next evolution of the magazine of illustrating the theory via a practical means. Exactly what made Cahiers du Cinema stand out was their unique criticism, which opposed popular US traditional writing on cinema Bazin was the big boss man penning at least one of the four or five articles every monthly issue. It wasn't long until the rebellious Godard went a little rogue challenging the boss man himself and there would be a few disagreements in the camp potentially stemming from generational differences.

Mainly though they were united on Auteur theory, which positions the director as the artist of the film. For those wanting to read their main articles to catch up on some of their beliefs and principles, a good start would be the following: Truffaut's 'The Tradition of Quality' and Astruc's 'La Camera Stylo'. In these essays, they outline that too much emphasis has been put on writing in cinema when it is a visual medium and it has hindered the art form. In order to adapt, it needed to place more focus on camera and directors, this allowing cinema to distinguish itself from other mediums, stand tall on its own two feet and offer something different.

As one would expect, Auteur theory has been widely contested with some fools dismissing it as just being a means to promote selfabsorbed assholes thinking it's all about them and avoiding the fact that cinema is a collaboration rather than a dictatorship. David Fincher's Mank, an impeccably shot movie, does try to present a genuine alternative viewpoint that is antiauteur theory and puts greater attention on the writer again exploring the film that is deemed to have kickstarted directoriral appreciation originally, Citizen Kane. Does he do a good job though?

I know Fincher would deny it but generally he seems an Auteur himself deep down. Possibly why the film, despite being interesting is not a complete success.

When it comes to Auteur theory a strong contender for making the film his even when writing and not directing has always been Charlie Kaufman. Watching any film written by him you can see his ideas of identity crisis, time and mortality. However, there is a clear contrast between the films he directed and those other people did. When he directs he's guilty of being overbearing and directing with a writers mind, keeping material other directors would cut.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich, Adaptation and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind are all way more grounded than his own directorial efforts Synecdoche, New York and I'm Thinking of Ending Things

Other directors will stick closer to genres and not be so alienating to the audience. When he directs himself, he creates something new in the process but can split people, leading him to be a unique but dividing artist. Therefore, with other directors even though you get his themes you're seeing it through their lens as they filter the material through their own preferences.

Admittedly, Auteur theory does have its limitations and irritating factors. As mentioned previously, it creates new appreciation for particular films because you can notice recurring themes across multiple films, consequently, they begin to interact with each other and open new doors. The downside to this is that can cause weaker efforts and entries in a directors catalogue to gain more praise than they should. Honestly, this doesn't directly annoy me because if it allows you to speak more about a film, then all for it. What does annoy me is waning directors protected as 'Festival darlings'. Every year they can have guaranteed success and entry because the same festivals will continue to invite them back year upon year, regardless of quality. Unfortunately, even though it offers them another chance of redeemability it can block and restrict spaces for new talents.

In spite of this, I remain a huge supporter of the theory. It reduces competing visions and refines ideas, resulting in firmer meaning and clarity. Most importantly, it allows us to differentiate between multiple models of filmmaking, such as Hollywood, independent and other national cinemas. Using it provides the opportunity to interpret studio driven disasters, money oriented shallowness and examine the entire industry from a Marxist perspective. A wider ability a lot of critics fail to grasp.

Auteur theory is not perfect, it is not the be all and end all, it is a tool which simply opens up criticism and allows more expansive readings. It doesn't matter which side of the fence you sit on, anything that opens up a dialogue is worth using. If it allows sense to be made of a particular situation then use it until the conversation runs dry or a new one comes along. Over the years, I have found Auteur theory opens way more doors than it closes, as I said it literally opens up the doors of the entire industry, allowing you to dissect it at your will. Use it well brother and remember with great power comes great responsibility!

Moving on to the initial films of the movement, you could well say it began with the proto-French new wave films of Varda's La Pointe Courte, Malle's The Lovers and Chabrol's The Cousins all of which were released between 1955 and 1957. Varda being potentially the first new wave filmmaker in 1955 is pretty crazy considering she belongs to the second wave called, 'Left Bank', a more political unit which came after. La Pointe Courte has the feel as though it could be part of Richard Linklater's Before trilogy. It's images and sound become so hypnotic as this couple walks through a town spending most of their time arguing. You can almost see the influence on regular collaborators Jonny Greenwood and Paul Thomas Anderson. Varda's film, although could be deemed the first was not the movements cultural explosion across the world.

In fact, it would be La Pointe Courte's editor that would first grab the attention of critics. He turned director for Hiroshima Mon Armour and along with Truffaut's The 400 Blows, went on to be a huge sensation at Cannes. According to legend, they were the most talked about at the festival. At this point, no-one could ignore the French new waves philosophy that had been written about for the last decade and was finally coming in to fruition as they put it in to practice.

About a year later Breathless would come along and cement the legacy becoming the face and poster of the movement. Not only did it win over the critics but the masses flocked to it too. Personally, I think of the first three big ones, Hiroshima Mon Armour is the strongest. If you're a fan of the cinematic grace of In the Mood for Love, you'll take a real shine to the film. Both rank among cinemas greatest romances. Here, Resnais develops this style of dialogue and image being disconnected causing the space to be fairy-tale like and leaves you debating what you're seeing is real. He only suggests it in Hiroshima but would go on to explore it further in his masterpiece, Last Year at Marienbad. His defining characteristic is that slow moving camera work and the narration. In 1956, he came out with this 30 minute documentary on Hitler's concentration camps (Night and Fog) I'm telling you because of the trance like motion of his camera, you feel the pain and death in the air as though the Jews were still there rather being shot years later. Vastly better than that Shoah crap they pass of as a masterpiece documentary on the subject.

Apologies there, I got lost in Resnais, I have a real habit of getting side tracked with this stuff, it is a miracle that I get anything achieved on a daily basis. Anyway, my preferences mean fuck all, Breathless contains more of the trademarks of the French new wave at their best and worst, that's why it's the key text and should be. Reminds me of that one line from the Jackass 4 where Johnny Knoxville is stretchered in to an ambulance after being hit by a bull and Steve-O says, "that's why he's the leader"

Can I be honest? I have never seen Godard's follow up to Breathless from 1961, A Woman is a Woman. There's something about it that reeks of selling out. How did he go from cynical Hollywood parody to cheery musical? Maybe there's more to it than that. Sources close to me inform me it's fun and is a good unusual addition to the genre but I don't know, something about it stinks. However, I'll never know for sure until I watch it will I? Can't really comment on something you haven't seen can you? I'd be lying though if I didn't think they were my initial impressions as though his first didn't make him enough money or get him enough acclaim so he went and did this. Hey, I could be wrong though –and it wouldn't be the first time!

Godard's 1962 effort, Vivre Sa Vie ranks among his most emotional and beautiful even without sacrificing his experimental nature. Interestingly, a large part of the movement was moving away from writing with a pen and doing so with the camera and this film was very inspired by the structures used by Bertolt Brecht. To be clear though, I wouldn't say these guys were strictly against literary influences, quite the contrary, they were mainly rebelling against the way lauded French screenwriters were lazily using them and not adapting them properly. Vivre Sa Vie is noted for its 12 episode structure and feminist angle.

Another little anomaly here is that Godard used a heavy Mitchell camera, when it was more common with French new wave dudes to be opting for lighter cameras. In Breathless, Hollywood's elaborate tracking shots would be recreating on the cheap by having the cinematographer pushed around in a wheelchair, hence where the lighter camera comes in use. Also, allows for shooting outside on location as they sought to literally take to the streets and lock Hollywood in their own studios.

Never make the mistake of thinking the French new wave came up with shooting outside or that they created cinema. I'm sick of hearing how Godard "birthed cinema". This is a common misconception and simply untrue disrespecting all the incredible works that came before 1959. Yes, I will allow 're-created' but I'm not having created. It's post-modernism, not modernism or anything before that. Post-modernism needs itself some parents to function. That's not me criticising it either. All my favourite art tends to be post-modernism but let's know exactly what we're dealing with here and not get carried away. So don't go thinking I'm under the belief post-modernism is lazy and doesn't make anything new or any of that malarkey. It does create new but using past ingredients and influences in the most respectfully head on and acknowledging way. Takes the old, combines multiple works and in the process then makes new. Right, back to the shooting outside point, let's not forget the Italian neo-realism troop were doing that back in 1948 with Bicycle Thieves.

In 1963, Godard released Le Petit Soldat, you could consider this a minor effort as the experimentalism is toned down and is far less ground breaking than his classics but I don't know there's something about it. I'll fight it's corner alright. It's just so damn likeable. What we get is a Jean-Pierre Melville spy/noir film but seeing that played out in typical Godard fashion is the very definition of fun. There's a few memorable sequences such as when the protagonist gets chained to a bath tub and another where someone takes a nasty dive out the window. You could call it Jean-lite Godard but as I said it's a bloody good time so what can you do? Even has a storyline incorporating the Algerian war for independence in France, hinting at Godard's later more political oriented films. So far, he was mainly playing with genres and developing his style, the serious side to his game was yet to come.

No stranger to two releases in a single year, this workaholic mad man dropped another banger in 1963, Le Mepris and this one is a classic. On a purely emotional level, my favourite of the lot. For 103 minutes it's this volatile couple on the verge of breaking up. The protagonist is a screenwriter tasked with tidying up a Fritz Lang movie and during the production, his stunning female companion decides to have an affair with the American producer. Disgusting stuff right under my man's nose! Only Godard would make his romcom this massive allegory for America's greedy, selfish and imperialist attitude and how they repeatedly fuck the French industry over by swooping in for all their iconic stars. The English translated title is literally 'Contempt', which tell you all you need to know here. Maybe he did start hating Hollywood at this point but Breathless is definitely more of a loving parody if you ask me.

On top of this, every 5 minutes they play Georges Delerue's 'Theme De Camille" over the ill-fated tragic doomed romance on show. Oh no, I just hit play on that song, I'm emotional already. Nope, I'm not doing this. This film really moves me man! Heart breaking. Time to move on to the next film because I'm a wreck and no-one needs to see pathetic shit like that. It's against my code of strictly no emotions ever. Bill Murray mode at all times. Get a hold of yourself Kelly you fucking worm! Theme de Camille off, Miles Davis 'On the Corner' back on.

Next up was Bande A Part in 1964. This sees Godard returning to crime. Tarantino named his production company after this film. What was Godard's response? Expectedly hilarious, he said, "Tarantino named his production company after one of my films, he would have done better to give me some money". Bande A Part does feature some of Godard's most fun set pieces such as dance routines in cafes, trips to the Louvre and then a heist in the third act. Technically it's very strong and does embrace the pop culture side well but lacks some of the weight of the others, no wonder Tarantino was drawn to it.

For his following effort, Alphaville in 1965, Godard created a futuristic Sci-Fi noir. Unexplainably, I put this off for a long time assuming it looked lazy and resembled an American blockbuster too closely. How on earth does one keep forgetting straight up genre pictures are never really the Breathless man's thing? Always has to be some parody in there with Godard's witty and satirical lens. Young filmmakers with limited budgets would do well to learn from Alphaville and take some serious notes. Science fiction has always been a complicated genre because it has the potential to be a wonderful revolutionary tool for hiding social critique in a futuristic narrative outside the present. Problem is though that often such a high budget is needed for the elaborate set design and technology involved. Giger isn't cheap, there's a reason Roger Corman had to turn Alien down before 20th Century Fox jumped in. Therefore, Sci-Fi comes this phenomenal working class tool trapped in the hands of the bourgeoise. Hence why often they come churned out with too much attention on special effects and too little on concept. Mostly, you've got to be a dirty smuggler working in the system to master Sci-fi.

Oddly, this is not to say it inhibits independent filmmakers. Guaranteed at film festivals all over the country there's always a shed load of them with no budget whatsoever. Sure, the writing may be strong and to an acceptable standard but they never reach their full potential and become as effective as they should because the world itself keeps collapsing under the weight of its own inconceivability. The messages don't land because you're constantly taken out the film world by the fact you can't accept its vision of the future.

Alphaville provides a solution to such a problem. It teaches us that the if we can't afford to build our lavish set design, then we should use pre-existing architecture (of which there is undeniably plenty). All you need here is a good eye and the ability to shoot the buildings of your choice in a particular stylised manner to create your own aesthetic.

Alongside Alphaville's architecture, Breathless fans will be pleased with a particular fight scene. There is one shot in comedic tableaux, which rivals the opening scene where Belmondo fires a few rounds at the cop. Instead of shooting a normal fight scene, Godard opts to break it up in to a series of striking poses. I can't recall seeing anything quite like it, you'll come away thinking why aren't all fight scenes shot like this? Godard at his best re-examining the cinematic language and recreating it as he sees fit. You love to see it!

Same year of 1965, he has another banger on his hands with Pierrot Le Fou. We're dealing with a madman and his girl on the run narrative like Bonnie and Clyde or Badlands. If you want to keep up the Tarantino comparisons, this is Godard's True Romance or Natural Born Killers. Pierrot Le Fou actually expands on the political points of Le Petit Soldat with Algeria and marks Godard's transformation in to more serious topics. At the same time, it remains a film celebrated widely by all critics on the political spectrum because it contains its ideas within a familiar and popular narrative. Godard uses his outsider outlaw character on the run to establish an alternative to bourgeois society.

Following Alphaville's black and white harsh shadows, Pierrot Le Fou represents a colourful explosion. An assault of primary colours unleashed in pop art fashion. Easily, his most extreme use of colour in his films up this point and maybe even afterwards. Colour films were happening and this man was taking full advantage. A lot of what we always remember Godard for with the choices of credits, random titles and gun noises can be noticed here. Pierrot Le Fou is so highly regarded because you really start to get the sense of a filmmaker on the path of mastering their craft and moving towards having something to say. Especially important with Godard as it meant he was done with merely referencing cinema and playing with it. Training was almost over. His guns were being loaded and he was ready to take aim at some bigger targets.

1966's Masculin Feminin is a funny little project. On the right lines conceptually but execution not all there. When I re-examine Godard's career it's normally with the question of 'How well did he use cinema as a tool to integrate Marxist teachings, influence teens and bring about revolution?' Essentially, how successful was his cinema as a means of liberation? In this regard, Masculin Feminin represents some of his best ideas on paper. As he described it, it is, "Marxism for the Coca-Cola generation". We see him attempting to communicate with the kids about Marxism via their own interests of the day. In Godard's hands, pop art becomes a tool to unite the masses and to date he's probably the most successful to ever use it as a weapon. Hence why he would always incorporate such daft things like Bande A Part's dance routines and Louvre expeditions. Was he a fan of the American juvenile delinquent rock 'n' roll pictures of the 50s? As unlikely as it seems, the types of activities are similar.

Unfortunately, whilst Masculin Feminin is a noble idea, it causes Godard to remain trapped within an inescapable box. He seeks to promote Marxism and appeal to a younger audience. Consequently, the film constantly dumbs itself down and that can rob the picture of its more meaningful points. We get a lot of sacrifice on the theory here in going for the wider audience but on the whole, it's mostly a success. Could even say one of his best to update the youthful energy of Breathless with his increasingly radical thoughts.

This is where I do begin to really respect Godard. Whereas, his friends and colleagues (Truffaut, Chabrol etc) continued to repeat themselves a little, Godard frequently looked to expand his reach and refine his work. Around this time, you could say his ideas were more consistent with the thinking of the second wave, 'Left Bank'.

The Left Bank filmmakers were not as well written about and trust me, when I get a chance I'll go as much to in some of those guys (Marker, Varda, Resnais) as I can. This camp were influenced by the cinematic vocabulary established by the first wave but wanted to use these to achieve political goals. A natural evolution from style to substance. You've got to respect any filmmaker who develops a movement, influences another and then outlives a lot of the next movement. That my friends is the key to a long and successful career. The trick is non-stop expansion. During 1966 and '67, Godard became more worldly wise and turned his attention to American issues such as imperialism and their war in Vietnam. Coincidentally, this is the point when a lot of the US critics began to drop off and divert attention elsewhere. Just when things were getting interesting!

In drawing his sights on US foreign policies, Godard actually ended up visiting the country with Varda around the same time. Admittedly, I've not seen the two films that came from this stay: the appropriately titled Made in USA and highly critical war documentary Far From Vietnam (a collaboration with Agnes Varda).

Varda's films in the USA were wildly mixed. Two solo documentaries, one rather wholesome where she visits a relative and another a classic which depicts The Black Panthers. The latter you've probably seen some of the footage from because it's the most iconic images we have of that absolute unit and has been used in countless other documentaries to reference them since.

Varda's US feature film ranks among her worst. How to describe Lions Love?

Imagine loud drama students of today trying to make a John Waters movie without the satire. You get the picture? Spoilt brat Hippies at their worst and most insufferable. Despicable. Lions Love is so awful it's only the slightest slither away from being worse than her pro-nonce film Kung Fu Master. Don't get excited, there is no Kung Fu in that movie, something that pisses me off to this day even more so than the noncing!

In Varda's films we get this bizarre portrait of a country divided between the hippies, radicals and conservatives. The hippies looking like blabbering useless fucks but damn she really made those Panthers look organised. That Black Panthers doc is Varda's Triumph of the Will. She does for leather jackets and sunglasses, what Riefenstahl did for those Hugo Boss designed Nazi uniforms. Annoyingly, Varda devotes her time between the hippies and panthers equally, viewing both as a means to oppose US capitalism and imperialism. A little too much faith in those hippies if you ask me, especially if Lions for Love is anything to judge them on. Although, I have not seen Godard's films from the trip, I can only hope that he does not fall victim to the same problems. Doubt though, he seems too much of cynical moody miserable bastard to be falling in with the hippie crowd.

On his return to France, Godard releases 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her. Solid stuff but it's no 10 Things I Hate About You. Those are not linked at all by the way but they should be. Keeping the Tarantino comparisons up this is Godard's Hateful Eight. Hard to fault stylistically and only a fool would say it isn't fun. However, this does come with the hard hitting realisation that the filmmaker is doing very little to expand on what you know they're capable of doing. By this point both the filmmaker and audience knows the formula or set up. For Godard, this means post-modern ramblings on art, lots of mad camera work, self-awareness, flashing titles and those bloody gun noises. Most filmmakers can't even establish a style but once someone does so they could literally spend their career churning out the same movie over and over. Gets too easy. In that regard, even though this is a great movie, it's something of a disappointment because it doesn't bring a lot to the table you haven't seen already. However, I will give it this, Godard continues his support for the Vietnamese and so we end up with a way colder and harsher update of Vivre Sa Vie. I know I'm here for it.

Finally, we reach the part I have been dying to talk about, it only took me God knows how long to get here. I present to you, Godard's extremely radical Maoist period later in 1967 originating from La Chinoise. A 96 minute rant or display of excessive verbal acrobatics where students gather to discuss their thoughts on chairman Mao. Get that little red book out your shirt pocket and let's gooooo! Here we get a much more complete sense of ideology than Masculin Feminin and it even has the Bande A Parte dance routines. The Mao Mao song gets stuck in my head every single time. If I have a complaint for La Chinoise, it is the distinct lack of plot and Godard's laziness in not putting these amazing ideas in to a cohesive narrative. Marks for the theory, not so many for application in a proper movie.

Easy to forgive these faults though when you remember you've got such a popular filmmaker going so radical and as far as to openly promote terrorism to bring about change and the dismantling of capitalism. Name me another filmmaker as well-known and respected as this who has gone this far left and advocated violence so directly to achieve the means of you know fucking what. Not a single maker has the bloody balls to do something like this today. In that way, I can fully admire it for not hiding what it's doing within a narrative like a smuggler would. You could call it a Faux documentary. Godard could have slacked off having got this far, he could have effortlessly fallen back on the same formulas but alternatively here he is taking big swings and huge risks that could have so easily shattered his career and to a large degree did.

Still stands though maybe they needed to get out the classroom more on this one, literally and figuratively. Best scene hands down is when they actually do and the female students on the train with the press delivering a no holds barred interview. The kind of dialogue it's rare to see in cinema.

Travel undoubtedly broadened Godard's mind and made him an angrier filmmaker. Talking of travel, this brings us to his next film, Weekend In weekend, a couples trip to the countryside turns in to complete anarchy as random acts of violence ensue and bourgeois society collapses before your very eyes. The weekend becomes the literal end of all civilisation as communists and capitalists fight out a war across the countryside in a very Samuel Fulleresque narrative. Weekend has been and always will be Godard's undisputed masterpiece for me. On an emotional level, I'm swayed by Le Mepris but for the intellectual it has to be this one.

Roger Ebert summed it up best in his review stating, "year after year Godard has been chipping away at the language of cinema. Now in Weekend he has just about got to the bare bones. This is his best film and his most inventive. It is almost pure movie. It is sure to be ardently disliked by a great many people, Godard fans among them. But revolutionary films always take some time for audiences to catch up". Such a comment makes me wonder just why is it that we haven't caught up and his debut Breathless is still considered by far too many to be his magnum opus.

Weekend is the very film he'd been building towards his whole career. First of all he mastered the techniques (style) and then he attempted to bring in more meaningful content (substance). In Weekend, he boldly masters both and thus, conquers cinema. A perfect marriage of style and substance. Wasn't until my most recent revisit that it really hit me, exactly how he achieves this feat. Randomly, I'd come across the source material after a friend had recommended it to me. It all comes from a fantastic short story from Julio Cortazar called 'La Autopista Del Sur' about a traffic jam which causes a temporary community to be formed but ultimately one that is quickly destroyed when the cars begin to move again.

This surrealist narrative is so suited to Godard's style of chaotic filmmaking so he can do what he does best with the in your face, this is a film, semi documentary and still operate within a narrative that works as a film. After spending so long breaking down cinema, with Weekend he finally builds it back up in to a complete package. His typical snapshots and sporadic storytelling work like never before because it feels more acceptable due to the surrealistic logic. The narrative traps his style and maintain you in the film world. That is the very reason it is complete and whole.

Of course, there will be those that argue, these are the very reasons that make Weekend a failure. As it is so smooth and conclusive, this is at odds with the identity of the French new wave, which was always about making you recognise the process. However, I think this would be a restrictive and childish opinion. Did you really want him to keep breaking cinema apart? Where does it lead to? When does it end Godard? All it would cause is multiple stylistic exercises with a lack of overall purpose. The end goal of deconstructing cinema should always be to re-assemble together later a sturdier package. Use it to tell better stories, that would be the final solution.

You break up a jigsaw, you gotta put it back together at some point right? Fucking hell, why is this issue all about jigsaws? Andrew Dominik got me so lost in one jigsaw I had to try and rebuild another. The beauty of Godard's career is that it begins with a disassembled jigsaw and gradually becomes re-made, which is something I've wanted to reveal by going through each film individually.

Come to think of it, even though Weekend is Godard's jigsaw reassembled, don't view it as a completely smooth ride but rather that he finds an excuse through the source material to maintain his erratic approach and sustain the world itself.

The world of the film is in a state of apocalypse, so naturally everything is about destruction and re-creation. One society falls, another emerges. This fits Godard's own style where cinema is constantly destroying and recreating itself. Godard setting his film on the road during the apocalypse is the equivalent of Tarantino setting his violent finale of Inglorious Basterds in a cinema. The locations selected and the action depicted there perfectly encompasses the filmmakers entire vibes. I'm very interested in that Fulleresque method of spaces representing the filmmakers state of mind in an abstract sense and often wonder what would best suit Jacob Kelly's, any ideas? What location do you best associate Jacob Kelly with? Where would his antics fit best?

It would be wrong to discuss Weekend without mentioning that iconic 8 minute long tracking shot of the traffic jam. The unyielding roar of the car horns blaring on as we descend in to chaos and lack of order or even to your TV remotes to lower the sound and protect the old lugholes. It's funny every time I watch Weekend, I forget the final image as it builds towards so it never fails to blow my head off every time. By the time Godard finishes his camera movement you have entered another world. All of a sudden that final image hits and you know what time it is:

Apocalypse Now! It's Mad Max shit.

You've had the warnings with the heated arguments and fist fights in act one, now we get to our intended destination. That brings me to the question, 'is Weekend a horror movie?'. You certainly get that impression based on the loud music in that opening scene. In one room, the husband is plotting take his father in law's money and ditch his wife and in another room his wife is recalling an erotic tale with another lover. That's what I love about the movie, you can never quite trust the bastard from the start. Has just the right sprinklings of danger from the outset.

In true irritating Godard fashion, he did not repeat what worked on Weekend. I know this is what I've spent so much of this praising him for but if there's one movie I'd forgive him for having another go at, it be something in the same vein as Weekend. This is not an artist who gives you what you want, this is an artist too concerned with the future to be bothered about sticking to the present. So later in 1968, we get the next step in his masterplan, which is moving towards the documentary format. Could not tell you why but he then chooses to stick to this for the majority of his remaining career. Ladies and gentlemen, we are getting close to the end.

Did Godard believe the documentary best represented his cinematic form of expression? Not got the answers there but the first in this series of documentaries could be the best of them. Sympathy for the Devil saw Godard creating a music doc as we join The Rolling Stones in the studio in the middle of recording their best song of all time Sympathy for the Devil. Lyrically elevates itself above any other Stones banger with a narrative so good it'll open your mind up about what a song can do.

This film is a touch of genius from Mr G. You can't fault the concept. Get bums on seats by telling them it's a Rolling Stones doc and then once you got them locked in the theatre, you give them a brutal lesson in Maoism. Respect. Evidently, it’s a regular pattern of Godard's cinematic contributions in that he keeps finding ways to engage with the masses through popular interests and then like that he explodes in to the politics. Sympathy for the Devil could well be a case for his best example at doing so. He knew what he was doing with this one, the documentary was his idea and Stones were actually his second choice after Beatles turned him down. Will never forgive The Beatles for that one. Declined the offer and I'm guessing over fears of the Maoism and their image. Chad Stones, Virgin Beatles.

Aside from the politics, music fans will appreciate this too. Seeing that wonderful song come together in the studio gradually is a treat. Godard's camera drifts across the studio showing each station and section of the song visually as you hear it progressing. Adorably, he has the same approach to music as film by breaking up the song up in to its individual parts and then connecting it back together. Witnessing a classic being created like that on the spot is simply magical like in the Get Back documentary when Paul Mccartney is seen coming up with the titular track on the spot. To witness true creation there and then being captured is so rare. Got to cherish that shit!

I'm yet to see A Film Like No Other from the same year but I'll assume knowing with the man we're dealing with it's exactly as the title says. It's a shame so many of these later efforts are so hard to find and get a hold of. Criticism on it is notoriously lacking on the tail end of my man's career as well. Unfortunate because of the ones I have seen, he seems at his most mature and intelligent during this period.

British Sounds in 1970 is the result of Godard's trip to the Albion. Shorter than usual at 54 minutes but strictly to the point, never missing a beat like the production line it examines. A continuous stream of hits. The focus is on the employees of a steel mill. Reckon this could well make a banging double bill with Schrader's debut Blue Collar, file it under work place troubles and struggles. Exploitation you can't shy away from in very raw form. Hits a little too close to home this one with it being set where it is. Going to pretend Ken Loach's Kes from 1969, inspired him to make a visit. Why did those two never collaborate on a documentary? I'm guessing likeminded people but Loach met him once and found him insufferable. I could understand that. Of course, Godard does his Godard thing of having people talk about The Beatles to appease the youth. We know his tricks by now.

Godard's other documentary from 1970 Wind From the East is one of the most important moments in the history of cinema. Yet no-one knows about it or talks about it, which is insane. Arguments are made in this film about the future of cinema and where it needs to go. Godard reveals everything he's tried to achieve over his career and the film serves as a manual for what someone carrying the torch needs to do next. It's a call for revolutionary cinema and expansion of the medium and art form.

In one scene Glauber Rocha (Brazilian director of Black God, White Devil) stands at a literal crossroads in a cheesy unsubtle but effective moment as a visual metaphor and asks, "which way is political cinema?". Once again like Weekend, Godard is trying to take you in to another world and visualise what cinema would like under communism. For us Brits and the yanks this is something we can only imagine in our heads and read about other national cinemas who have gone that way. All we can do is ponder the question what would cinema actually look like in that kind of system? How would financing work? How would films be approved? Does a communist system really hinder art or is that just lies spread by the ruling classes? Around the world though there is hope and it seems more of a possibility of realisation. Godard seems to have targeted those specific countries (mainly South America and Brazil when this film was made) and tried to guide them towards such a system.

The point made by this visual metaphor is that Hollywood has created its own path that other countries could lazily follow or they could go their own route, create their own path and even forge a new cinematic identity in the process. That image of the Crossroads is Godard's most inspiring and immediate.

I wonder, other than using Theme De Camille in Casino, was Scorsese influenced by this for his unforgettable image in Gangs of New York with the close up of the hand where each finger represents each of the five points. The fingers come together to make a fist summing up what the entire movies essentially about, the forming of New York. Perhaps they serve as opposites to each other in the end product but they are both linked by one thing and that is the formation of something new.

Strictly cinema wise, you can't help but ignore Godard on this film and British Sounds expanding on the techniques used by Russian experts of montage and propaganda films. In this field, critics recognise the works of Eisenstein (Battleship Potemkin, Strike, October), Kuleshov (Kuleshov Effect), Dziga Vertov (Enthusiasm, A Sixth Part of the World), Riefenstahl's nazi shite (Triumph of the Will, Olympia) and at the time of Wind From the East, Costa-Gravas (Z, State of Siege, Missing) but this documentary has not been as widely acknowledged. Would South American cinema be as good as it has become without Godard's helping hand? It appears they were the ones who took full advantage of this films teachings.

In all fairness to Godard, he did seem to devote the rest of his career to helping get national cinemas off the ground, taking more of a step back from making features himself. As though he was coaching them and building up a collective army or resistance against Hollywood. His only big feature post-Weekend was Tout Va Bien, another collaboration with one of the best actresses of all time, Jane Fonda. A beautiful send off if ever there was one. Wes Anderson has definitely seen this movie, stealing the shots where you can see the edges of the set. Another film in which the location is carefully selected (the workplace) and shooting it in this manner with the edges of the set apparent really does expose how full of shit it is. In Godard's hands it is Ibsen's The Dollhouse

After Tout Va Bien, I know very little about what comes next with various smaller projects that have barely been written about and are difficult to locate. His last ever movie, The Image Book I have managed to get hold of, this is Godard through and through. Old but still angry as ever as he explores the mistreatment of Arabs. Nowhere near as masterfully crafted as his earlier works but fair play to him for not losing the spirt even if the critics stopped giving a damn. Although, there's still a large proportion of his later career I haven't covered, I hope I have achieved what I set out to achieve, which was to track his developments with each film, offer an argument as to why Weekend is his real masterpiece, address his Maoist period and documentaries. Without a doubt, I wanted to illustrate why his later work is just as important as his earlier hits if not more so. Chiefly though set out to accentuate just why we love the bastard so much even after all these years.

In all his images we see of him, the cool fucker is nearly always wearing his sunglasses. I really hope they buried my man in his fucking sunnies like the king he is. It's only what he deserved. Disappointed if they didn't. Nothing would be more satisfying than if they recorded a short film of him in his sunglasses being lowered in to the ground. A true warriors death and some form of resolution after that really uncertain image in Wind From the East of the crossroads.

Godard recently took his only life in an act of assisted suicide, citing old age and exhaustion as the motivation for his actions. Know that if I was ever to undertake in such a decision, there's only one way Jacob Kelly is going out and that's Harakiri, location as of yet undecided. Could be an isolated one looking out across the peaks and taking in the beauty. Could be a case of after 6 pints in the boozer going "right everybody who wants to watch, outside now, I'm about to Seppuku myself".

May even go out doing a grand piece of terrorism like my favourite right wing nationalist psychopath Yukio Mishima (what everyone's allowed to have one!). However, also undecided on the terrorism part. Only time will tell. Godard is gone, and if you have read through this I can only hope I have demonstrated why this guy is a big man for all his talents and flaws. So next time you have a pint in the pub, pour one out to this chief who blew the bloody doors off of Hollywood and cinema itself, only to re-build it back and reshape the future in hope of a better world.

I'll end this by saying I have never seen Histories du Cinema, which is meant to be his Scorsese's Personal Journey through American Cinema. Essentially, Godard speaking for hours about his favourite films and the history of cinema as the title suggests. Now would be the perfect time to engage in such a gargantuan project and I have to say I am looking forward to it!