Jacob Kelly's Funeralopolis Vol. 2 Issue 3

Vol. 2 Issue 3: Assassin's Night

In this weeks Issue:

Page 1-Kung Fu Kelly Returns

Hotly debated with myself whether only three articles this month was sufficient. Last thing I want to do is short change people or appear as though operating at minimal effort. Each piece is very long and any more would risk being overbearing. My mind was put at ease when I remembered lots of good things come in threes, like Nirvana. Those guys went on to create some of the best music known to man and they were only a trio. Anyway, our first review is of John Wick: Chapter 4. Joining us once again is our action afficionado Sheldon Coltrane. So in the words of the boys, Load up on guns and bring your friends.

Page 12-Balthazar's Deconstructed Shandy

In perhaps the longest review of Scream 6 currently out there, we go over the history of postmodernism in film and this means returning to the very beginning when images were first put together in a deliberate sequence or montage. Follow it through from the Soviets to the Nazis, political propaganda, Godard, Sylvester Stallone and Scream. Finally, ending with an alternative suggestion to Scream that is a little more inspiring. Sequences are broken down like a fire arm and put back in bizarre new orders. No doubt it will leave you confounded and wondering was all that necessary? But would you have it any other way? Pull up a chair and join us to hear all about Balthazar's Deconstructed Shandy.

Page 27-Concrete Jungle: Animals are After Me

Music lovers are not going to want to skip this one. The 4K re-release of Joe Massot's 1981 film Dance Craze is used as a talking point to cover just what exactly makes for a great music documentary. Kelly and Bonehead Bill decided to take a break from their own concrete jungle and venture out to a real jungle to appease their dirty sexual appetites. Out there in wilderness they confront all kinds of untold horrors that will take them to the Windy City Chicago, Sunny Florida and the edge of their own sanity.

Kung Fu Kelly Returns

Kelly: Get the Big Gun blaring because we have us not just a great action movie but perhaps the greatest action movie of the last 20 years. With me to talk you through the latest John Wick, our action afficionado, Mr Sheldon Coltrane.

Sheldon Coltrane: Yeah, I'm thinking I'm back.

Kelly: He said it. He's back. With a vengeance. Let's start at the beginning with John Wick 1. Something of a sleeper hit, right?

Sheldon Coltrane: It caught me by surprise.

Kelly: I think it caught us all by surprise.

Sheldon Coltrane: We got the action star who was promised to us back in '99.

Kelly: We got a word for that yet?

Sheldon Coltrane: Not to my knowledge. But I'm sure there is one out there somewhere.

Kelly: The Keanussaince? I'm here for it. He's sort of had a couple of phases hasn't he. Started off life as a stoner guy didn't he?

Sheldon Coltrane: Owen Wilson is like wow. Keanu is more like woah.

Kelly: Nailed on hahaha.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'm a fan. Who isn't? You know when Bill and Ted came out the critics didn't think too much of it.

Kelly: Yeah. It was more embraced at drive ins wasn't it.

Sheldon Coltrane: The people's champion.

Kelly: The streets still remember Bill and Ted. A really odd genre crossing teenage comedy. In a way, it reminds me of Night at the Museum. Gotta respect any film that makes the idea of doing homework fun for the kids. Cause that's what they're doing at the end of the day, aren't they?

Sheldon Coltrane: I don't know anything about that. My dog used to eat my homework.

Kelly: Ah one of them, hey?

Sheldon Coltrane: I would sell people excuses. School had my attention 9 til 3.30, no chance they were getting it any time after that. School was all books, not enough practice for me.

Kelly: Can't say I was one for homework either. Once when I was about 17 or 18, I decided I was all out of excuses. Excuses were for kids. So, I was just going to be honest and tell this teacher the truth. He was an adult. I was an adult. What was the worst that could happen?

Sheldon Coltrane: Guessing he didn't take your revelation well.

Kelly: He asks me, "where's the homework?". Told him I hadn't done it. He asks, "why?". Said, "cause I couldn’t be arsed, mate". Not too sure what I was thinking with that but this guy lost the fucking plot. Big time. He was raised in the times of the cane and he looked like he wanted to use it. Used to talk to me about seeing Charlie Chaplin movies at the cinema, so you can tell where he was at mentally.

Sheldon Coltrane: Different times.

Kelly: Indeed. He kicked me out of that class and literally frog marched me in to some empty room. Odd guy. One time I decided to swerve his lesson entirely and he came looking for me in the common room.

Sheldon Coltrane: Well...?

Kelly: Well what?

Sheldon Coltrane: Were you there?

Kelly: Sure enough. Never banked on him hunting me down like that.

Sheldon Coltrane: Some freaks are committed like that.

Kelly: Definitely. After a while I had to say to him, "Look, mate. I'm only doing this cause I had to pick 4 subjects and if I had the choice, I'd have done just 1. Now give me a break".

Sheldon Coltrane: This guy must have really hated you.

Kelly: Well, that's the weird part. He didn't apparently. Few years later, a friend of mine, Jimmy Pomeranian aka Wayne Cramp, was working with him and he was asking about me this guy. Said I was always honest and possessed a knowledge of film beyond my years.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'd have probably put your lights out. Clip round the ear. Sounds like a geek to me with all that Charlie Chaplin business.

Kelly: I was always more of a Keaton man.

Sheldon Coltrane: All a bit too old for me. Way, way, way before my time.

Kelly: Keaton was the first action star though. Have you seen the stunt work in The General?

Sheldon Coltrane: Never thought about it that way.

Kelly: The dude broke his neck and just carried on his career for years 'til a doctor was like, ay you know your necks broken.

Sheldon Coltrane: Respect hahahaha.

Kelly: Deftones detour Back in School aside, have you ever seen Freaked?

Sheldon Coltrane: No, I haven't actually.

Kelly: You should give it a go. Same kind of stonery vibe as Bill and Ted. Both Keanu and Alex Winter are in it.

Sheldon Coltrane: Both of them? Wow. Oh wait no. I meant, woah.

Kelly: Reunited, we all excited. Came not too long after but more geared to a '90s MTV crowd. Surrealistic monster jam too.

Sheldon Coltrane: Sounds cool. I'll be sure to give it a go. See if it still holds up. Freaked?

Kelly: Yes. I'm sure you've seen Point Break and Speed

Sheldon Coltrane: Stone cold classics.

Kelly: What did you think to his British accent in Dracula?

Sheldon Coltrane: The less said the better.

Kelly: Hahaha bless him. He was trying.

Sheldon Coltrane: Some would say not hard enough.

Kelly: Did you see Coppola said not too long ago, he knew the accent was shit on set but didn't have the heart to tell him.

Sheldon Coltrane: I can believe it. Hollywood's nicest man.

Kelly: It's no wonder that My Own Private Idaho is getting even more respect now than it did in the '90s. The Letterboxd LGBT corner do seem like they're discovering that film.

Sheldon Coltrane: I have noticed it getting, I want to say re-appraisal, but it was always liked. It's just getting more liked.

Kelly: If it came out today, it would be huge. I could see a best picture win like Moonlight got.

Sheldon Coltrane: Sure. Not really my cup of tea but you're right, it would be massive.

Kelly: Thoughts on Johnny Mnemonic?

Sheldon Coltrane: I guess it was like training for The Matrix. Robert Longo isn't The Wachowski Brothers but it was like cinema testing out whether it could match the literary worlds of William Gibson. See if they could have a good relationship. Longo wasn't the man but it had to be done. Someone had to take from those books and say this is where the '90s is going. This is what we're building towards.

Kelly: But Keanu was the right man to do that?

Sheldon Coltrane: Absolutely.

Kelly: I don't think the importance of Keanu to The Matrix is talked about enough. When things would get complex and you had Lawrence Fishburne giving out those elegant sermons, Keanu was the perfect foil to that. In effect, he was the audience, he was us.

Sheldon Coltrane: A toned down dumb guy just going woah.

Kelly: Exactly. He found a way to merge that stoner persona of his youth and channel that in to his action heroes. He didn't transform over night or change his whole act.

Sheldon Coltrane: You've mentioned this before with Schwarzenegger in the '80s and what Dave Bautista is doing now. I wonder why it's not used more as a way in. A way to make the material more accessible and fun. Stick a dumb guy in there and somehow everything comes together, right?

Kelly: It's a completely underused role. I don't know why it's not common practice. Any of his post-Matrix and pre-John Wick films you like?

Sheldon Coltrane: A Scanner Darkly was good.

Kelly: I didn't really know you liked your Sci-Fis.

Sheldon Coltrane: It's better than his The Day The Earth Stood Still remake.

Kelly: I think everything is better than his The Day The Earth Stood Still remake. But no, I didn't realise you were a Sci-Fi man. You like your Phillip K. Dick and William Gibson?

Sheldon Coltrane: I don't read too much. But I read those.

Kelly: Now could be the perfect time to talk about Street Kings. James Ellroy, you read any of his books?

Sheldon Coltrane: Do I read James Ellroy? He's my favourite writer.

Kelly: I could have guessed.

Sheldon Coltrane: He's pretty much all I read. The limit of my literature explorations. Don't ask me any further questions. Cause if you want to hear about Moby Dick, I'm not your man. That's the one about the fish right?

Kelly: Yes, that's the one about the fish.

Sheldon Coltrane: Ellroy. A couple of Sci-Fi books. Oh and Tom Clancy. That's where it begins and ends for me. Some people quote Shakespeare, I quote James Ellroy

Kelly: I'm sure you'll be glad to hear I'm currently reading American Tabloid

Sheldon Coltrane: JFK. The signpost of sleaze. Why am I not surprised. You going to do the whole Underworld USA trilogy?

Kelly: Going to have to now. I'm loving it.

Sheldon Coltrane: Can't beat that Ward Littel/Pete beef.

Kelly: Pete pacing round the toilets, holding his hand over the microphone to hide that he's hyperventilating after finding out he's working with Littel again hahaha

Sheldon Coltrane: JFK with his women. Bobby wanting to beat all mafia to a pulp

Kelly: But losing his mind every time someone says fuck around his kids.

Sheldon Coltrane: Very simplified. But very funny.

Kelly: Exactly. He turned the whole affair in to another Ellroy crime novel.

Sheldon Coltrane: Love it. The Demon Dog of Crime Fiction.

Kelly: I've just come off reading Pynchon so it's doing me good. A real departure from those long winded sentences. Comma after comma.

Sheldon Coltrane: Full stops. Always full stops. Any surplus gets removed. That's my language. That's how Ellroy does it.

Kelly: I was thinking at first it be a bit too simple but Christ the guys really turned it in to an art. The no nonsense style fits the brutality of the material.

Sheldon Coltrane: Keeps things moving fast. All came from when he was writing LA Confidential. He got told to cut it down but he didn't want to lose a single subplot, so he just removed every unnecessary word in a sentence.

Kelly: Right. So, did you like Street Kings?

Sheldon Coltrane: Routine. Definitely routine. Critics trashed it of course. But what do critics know? No offense to yourself.

Kelly: None taken.

Sheldon Coltrane: It's nothing particularly interesting but David Ayer knows his way round the police procedural. 3

Kelly: Other than Bright.

Sheldon Coltrane: I just blame Marvel for that shit.

Kelly: Easily done. Take it you don't like Constantine then?

Sheldon Coltrane: That's not bad for what it is.

Kelly: One thing I do like about Street Kings is that one scene towards the end when he sees the captain at his house. And the captains like, "I know who likes boys".

Sheldon Coltrane: Yeah, you can really feel Ellroy's presence there. The hard hitting homophobic and racist slurs. Textbook Ellroy

Kelly: He's incredible. Blows my mind how far he goes with his satire.

Sheldon Coltrane: I know.

Kelly: He lives his act.

Sheldon Coltrane: Alright calm down The Prestige.

Kelly: Hahaha you know what I mean though. He lives it so close to the edge that you're not even sure whether he's really just a horrible right winger. Whenever he's interviewed he's always talking about his love for conservatism and how the cops, in spite of every bad thing he ever wrote about them, are really good people.

Sheldon Coltrane: Haha and every now and then his wife has to come in like he doesn't really believe these things!

Kelly: You've got to respect it. I think.

Sheldon Coltrane: Oh it is dedication. If nothing else.

Kelly: Favourite Ellroy adaptation?

Sheldon Coltrane: Can I be obvious and go with LA Confidential? Or Dark Blue?

Kelly: Both great.

Sheldon Coltrane: I can't decide between them. I know what it isn't. It isn't The Black Dahlia

Kelly: Yeah it's kind of great that DePalma directed some Ellroy but

Sheldon Coltrane: But it's a fucking mess.

Kelly: Yeah. He gets the pulp. And he's trying to have some fun like he did with The Untouchables

Sheldon Coltrane: And the studios really getting in the way. Fucking Hollywood with their usual tricks. I've read the book many times and I still don't understand what's going on in the film.

Kelly: Release the Depalma cut?

Sheldon Coltrane: I'll march with you right now into, who did that film?

Kelly: I believe it was Universal.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'll march with you right now in to Universal and demand it see the light of day.

Kelly: Haha. Hold Mr Universal hostage 'til we get what we want.

Sheldon Coltrane: You got a favourite Ellroy adaptation?

Kelly: Cop.

Sheldon Coltrane: Oh I love Cop.

Kelly: It's just so evil isn't it.

Sheldon Coltrane: It's him at his most ridiculous haha

Kelly: But you just know Ellroy's messing with you the minute James Woods starts banging that feminist. Like come on, he's definitely having us on there.

Sheldon Coltrane: You reckon?

Kelly: Has to be. There needs to be a word for when someone gets like that. Like evil but likably so and funny. Like comedically cynical.

Sheldon Coltrane: I don't know about all that. I just think it's honest. It is what it is. Could have the best final line in history that film. "Well there's some good news and some bad news. The good news is you're right –I'm a cop and I've gotta take you in. The bad news is I've been suspended and I don't give a fuck". Cock, cock, blast gun.

Kelly: James Woods doesn't give a fuck. That's the kind of ending where in the script it should say 'Fade to fucking black' after it. Cause it goes that hard. 4

Sheldon Coltrane: Oh it really does.

Kelly: If there's a film I hope there's a kind of revival next it's that one.

Sheldon Coltrane: It deserves it. Whether it would play well to a modern crowd...

Kelly: I think that's enough on pre-John Wick. John Wick 1 then.

Sheldon Coltrane: Almost DTV origins.

Kelly: That's what really surprised me on the revisit. Like it's gone from such a low budget thing to a full on blockbuster franchise. First film had about a 20 mil budget. Now the latest is about 100 million. 5 times higher across 4 films.

Sheldon Coltrane: Really? I would have thought the budget was higher than that on the latest.

Kelly: Same.

Sheldon Coltrane: Every penny well spent. They really go to town on the stunts. Wipes the floor with everything else.

Kelly: It sure does. I think the mistake that people make now is that the first film invented that whole ballet dancing shoot 'em up fighting style.

Sheldon Coltrane: It didn't, no.

Kelly: Can you tell me a bit about Pencak Silat and Indonesia.

Sheldon Coltrane: So right now, the fighting capital of the world is Indonesia. It's been Hong Kong. It's been Thailand. We've had Kung Fu. We've had Muay Thai. Now it's all about Pencak Silat, which is a martial art coming from Indonesia. Instantly recognisable and what sets it apart is that every part of the body is used. A British director, Gareth Evans, went over to Jakarta to shoot a film that would showcase this form of fighting. That's when he found Iko Uwais, who's now a big Hollywood star. You'll all know him for The Raid films and maybe Mile 22. But what I recommend is you watch Evans and Uwais first collaboration together Merantau

Kelly: Great movie. Not quite as good but for more Uko Iwais I also enjoy Jesse V. Johnson's Triple Threat

Sheldon Coltrane: That's the one with Scott Adkins who plays the fat guy in John Wick 4. The fat guy who almost kills him.

Kelly: Crazy isn't it. The most rotund man in the series and he almost takes out this world's hardest guy.

Sheldon Coltrane: How he moves about in the fat suit so freely is unfathomable.

Kelly: The best acting in a fat suit in the last year?

Sheldon Coltrane: Definitely.

Kelly: Get this man an Academy award. There you have it folks. Brendan Fraser. Not even the best fat suit performance of the year.

Sheldon Coltrane: A national treasure that Scott Adkins. I mean you could really fully lose yourself in those DTV action movies coming out at the moment. They're all on Netflix. Storylines aren't always great. But if you want to follow action right now. I'm talking about real action with minimal cutting. Where the camera just keeps on rolling. That's where to go. I'm on it every Friday night or Saturday morning scrolling through their selection.

Kelly: That's what confuses me. We call them DTV still. But it's more about Straight to Streaming now, isn't it? So surely it should be STS or S2S. To be pedantic.

Sheldon Coltrane: You know how it is. Old stuff just sticks. Some of us spent far too much time scraping the bottom of the so called 1 dollar baskets to get used to the new terminology.

Kelly: Ah the 1 dollar baskets. The cinematic junk food. Picked up some outrageous titles in those kinds of baskets. Literally bottom of the barrel.

Sheldon Coltrane: They were giving them away. The fact you wasted about 90 minutes of your time was worse than the £1 you spent on them. Anyway if you want to see something really good I'd recommend The Night Comes For Us. That's Pencak Silat's finest hour.

Kelly: Shit. That's a good movie. Would you say, as good as The Raid?

Sheldon Coltrane: Better.

Kelly: Bold. And you could be right. I need more time with it. We'll see. But yes. As you were saying, John Wick didn't invent that style. They borrowed it and adapted it.

Sheldon Coltrane: They definitely made the link to music clearer.

Kelly: True. The Raid did have Linkin Park/Fort Minor's Mike Shinoda. Mr Remember the Name himself. He was going for this kind of industrial nu-metal thing. John Wick is more about the club.

Sheldon Coltrane: Tyler Bates is kind of like the go to now for scoring action.

Kelly: I can't figure out whether he's good. He can be a little bland.

Sheldon Coltrane: Journeyman, isn't he?

Kelly: Yeah, I can go with that. All the best stuff on the soundtrack comes from the electro house sound of Le Castle Vania. That's what surprised me watching the first one again. That scene in the club. When we first really John Wick mode. It's really something.

Sheldon Coltrane: It hasn't lost its charms.

Kelly: That's the thing. A few of the earlier, call them teaser scenes, had me thinking maybe we've caught up with movies like Nobody and Prey. But when you see that club scene you realise it's still ahead of the competition even with the first film.

Sheldon Coltrane: Oh, it's a real knockout. Not outdated yet.

Kelly: I can't get over the cinematography and the art direction for that scene. Always thought the stylised sets and lighting came in later. But when he slowly steps down with the spirals in the background. That's like some Michael Mann Miami Vice shit!

Sheldon Coltrane: I see what you mean. It is. The colours. The music video look.

Kelly: They've always been beautiful to look at. Which is, I would say, something missing from the imitators.

Sheldon Coltrane: Sure. That and Keanu Reeves's abilities.

Kelly: I'm glad you mention that. Cause like with The Matrix, I think his casting is integral to the success. We found in Keanu Reeves someone physically capable of performing the stunts that Hollywood actors can't.

Sheldon Coltrane: That's where the foreign markets have always been able to compete with Hollywood. They may have big buff tough guys who can lift logs and look the part but what can they do in a throw down? Talk the talk then get the bus the fuck out of there. What's a bland boxing style against the agility and wide spread techniques of martial arts? I'm sure we could sit here all day discussing which fighting style would win in a simulated fight. But when it comes to cinema there's only one winner. Keanu took time to learn these things. You could see he was trying them out on films like Man of Tai Chi and 47 Ronin. He just didn't quite have the skills then. He was learning the tools of the trade. Which makes the pay off now even more admirable. He's found the right director in Chad Stahelski, who was his stuntman for The Matrix. I haven't seen an actor with his good a knowledge of fire arms since Steve McQueen. And his reloading speeds are so advanced.

Kelly: A consummate professional. Most people blink every time a blanks fired.

Sheldon Coltrane: Exactly. They're cowards. I like to think that scene when he goes the airport is what John Wick boot camp looks like. Keanu Reeves spare time extra-curricular activities. They just brought a camera that day.

Kelly: Hahaha. John Wick. A documentary. When I watched it this time, I was checking round for shots of the dog. Like surely he hasn't taken the dog with him to the airport to do donuts at high speeds. They definitely only put that shot of him coming home and saying hello to the dog just to confirm he's not a bad person for people like me who were worried for the doggo.

Sheldon Coltrane: The John Wick franchise wouldn't disappoint the dog community. They're it's biggest fans.

Kelly: And how seriously should we take the dog angle to John Wick as being paramount to its success?

Sheldon Coltrane: No idea. But it's a touch of genius as it gets approval from the dog fans. A face the dog guys can get behind.

Kelly: And you and I appreciate that it's satirising the revenge formula by bringing it down to its simple terms?

Sheldon Coltrane: Yeah, it does seem a piss take on your Taken type movies.

Kelly: Some of the nerdier critics deemed it too simple and missed the actual fun of the first John Wick film. Which is that you get to see an action movie in the foreground with some fresh fighting styles but in the background you're seeing an entire world being formed before your very eyes. The character and The Continental.

Sheldon Coltrane: Every character just asking him if he's back. Who doesn't this guy know? Baba Yega haha

Kelly: Always loved how they intercut that back story with him clobbering the shite out of the ground with a hammer to get his weapons back.

Sheldon Coltrane: The beast returns. Badass.

Kelly: Indeed. I have a couple of problems with the first film.

Sheldon Coltrane: Impossible. Come on now, Kelly. It's flawless.

Kelly: Hahaha. Firstly, it lacks that John Woo like existential/mythological take on the profession. My other issue is that structurally, it's still a movie you've seen many times. Even if it is satirical. Which is why until the fourth film, I was convinced the second is the best film.

Sheldon Coltrane: Goes for the James Bondian. The bit when he goes and gets his suit tailored does get me very excited. Rome setting to give it that exotic, worldwide spy adventure international man of mystery touch.

Kelly: That all reminded me of The 10th Victim. So I was happy. If the first was Dr No, the second is definitely Goldfinger when the world is more cemented and the series is beginning to have fun with itself, having everything set up.

Sheldon Coltrane: This is why the first is my favourite. You get the novelty. The rest of them after the second one start getting too cartoon like for me. I always allow a bit of leeway for a film to go in to the unrealistic for entertainment purposes. But with each one they got further and further away from reality.

Kelly: You talked about log lifting before. Chapter 2 opening with John trying to retrieve his stolen vehicle and near destroying it in the process is this series Commando.

Sheldon Coltrane: I guess haha. But the whole story for part 2 is a mess. Ruins the cool mystery of how he got out the life. He didn't accomplish the impossible. He cheated his way out. Now it's coming back to haunt him. For a man who's meant to be as gifted as he is, he's not too smart. He doesn't plan anything. He's stupid. He may think quick in the moment and nail any 1 on 1 but he doesn't see the full board. Stupid.

Kelly: I think what you're talking about there is how he's a man of temporary fixes. A man who risks it all in the moment. The perfect action hero because his short sightedness and constant gambling opens the door for countless sequels.

Sheldon Coltrane: That's where it loses me a bit. All his actions are just to serve the continuation of the franchise and nothing logical.

Kelly: They are aware of it though. Like it's definitely a joke but I can see where it might lose some people as you say. I've seen some refer to this series as both comedy and musical. But what do you think to horror?

Sheldon Coltrane: John Wick, he's whatever you want him to be. Comedy? There's those bits when he's out of ammo and throws guns at people. Firing subtle shots off at Common in the train station with the silencers.

Kelly: Kills me that bit every time. Bit of the old James Cameron sequel doubling going on with those two.

Sheldon Coltrane: Musical? We've spoken about. But horror? Hmm... they do call him Baba Yega. An unkillable spectre. Maybe.

Kelly: This does have all the hallmarks of a horror sequel. Every –er suffix that's required. Narrative wise, that takes it away from the package of the first film and makes it its own thing. Plus take a look at his kill count in Chapter 2. 77. The most Jason Vorhees ever got in a single film was 27.

Sheldon Coltrane: Pathetic.

Kelly: Take that you little mother's boy! How good is that gig scene though?

Sheldon Coltrane: That's pure John Wick mode that. Best scene.

Kelly: What do you think to the ending?

Sheldon Coltrane: So intense. Only Ian McShane could announce he's putting a hit on your head and you lose no respect for him.

Kelly: A rather suave fellow. That ending was so... First time I seen it in the cinema, I was so in the zone that I was sprinting all the way home.

Sheldon Coltrane: John Wick will do that to you. You wouldn't be the first and you won't be the last. It's energy is infectious.

Kelly: There needs to be a word for this. Like the John Wick euphoria you get from watching it.

Sheldon Coltrane: Jacked on John Wick mode.

Kelly: You've been Wicked. They ended it on such a high they needed to try and sustain that through Chapter 3. Which they do in all fairness for the first act. Suggesting it's going to be like Mad Max in the city. But then it loses its steam around act 2.

Sheldon Coltrane: That whole bit in Casablanca is boring.

Kelly: Agreed. It's like it stops being a John Wick movie.

Sheldon Coltrane: The fights are still fine. Very good even. And if it was any other movie you'd praise them. Lacks that energy though. It isn't John Wick mode.

Kelly: It isn't. There's something dead and generic about it. Halle Berry's presence only emphasises that.

Sheldon Coltrane: That's a real lack of respect there. She was great in Swordfish

Kelly: Hahaha. I've got no time for the desert sequences. They look so horrible. So cheap.

Sheldon Coltrane: Lawrence of Arabia it ain't.

Kelly: Once they do get out the desert, it does pick up kind of. I mean it's bad but it's something of a guilty pleasure by that point seeing the battle between The Continental and The High Table.

Sheldon Coltrane: Entertaining but strains my reality rule. Goes a bit too far.

Kelly: There's an upside and a downside in seeing this epic done as a low budget Lionsgate movie. Game of Thrones plotting but done without brains or money.

Sheldon Coltrane: Ending really annoyed me on part 3. Basically the scene the movie should have started with. So why did we just waste all this time getting what both me and you knew was going to happen?

Kelly: John Wick is pissed off.

Sheldon Coltrane: He's pissed off. Me too.

Kelly: I didn't like the ending too much either. It was laughable. But you're right, entertaining. We've seen these kind of tactics before from Lionsgate's Saw franchise. They have to have the big ending every time but then they've got a single act for the next film, they've put themselves in a trap, so they have to waste the majority of the next two acts getting them out of it.

Sheldon Coltrane: This is why I don't watch those Saw films. I quite like the detective side but it's no Seven. John Wick Chapter 3 was pretty disappointing. Had me near giving up. I won't lie, I wasn't overjoyed when I heard about the fourth one coming. Skipping it though, for some reason I just couldn't do it.

Kelly: I know what you mean. I almost tapped out too.

Sheldon Coltrane: To skip one would be to miss out on all the top quality action scenes. They're unbeatable. I don't like how cartoony they've become and I don't like the plots but the action. No complaints there. They're what keep me coming back. That's what I need.

Kelly: You're hooked on John Wick Mode.

Sheldon Coltrane: I am.

Kelly: So with all this in mind, how did John Wick 4 go for you then?

Sheldon Coltrane: More cartoon than ever but the plots good and has the best action of the entire series.

Kelly: I think you're absolutely right. And whilst I have had complaints about the cartoon silliness in places, this one landed for me and I took it in a way I've never taken it before. Which is John Wick as a graphic novel or manga.

Sheldon Coltrane: With the three hour epic length.

Kelly: Everything it had been trying to be in the previous films suddenly landed. There's a desert scene which is very David Lean and worthy of that level.

Sheldon Coltrane: Lawrence of Arabia it is.

Kelly: Widescreen you'd expect from a John Ford movie.

Sheldon Coltrane: That western/eastern hybrid we haven't seen so well combined since Kill Bill

Kelly: That extends to the look of the film too which is like a cross between a Kurosawa movie and Blade Runner. Weirdly ends up like Ridley's other film The Duellists by the end.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'm glad you said The Duellists and not Barry Lyndon. I can't stand Barry fucking Lyndon.

Kelly: Hahaha it's a little slow.

Sheldon Coltrane: Kelly, it's fucking boring.

Kelly: I'd say it's deliberate and well controlled.

Sheldon Coltrane: Kelly. Kelly! Call it what it is. It's fucking boring.

Kelly: Hahahaa. There is a sort of Dovetsky/Homer thing going on with this Chapter.

Sheldon Coltrane: Kelly, we've gone over this. We've exceeded my literary reach with James Ellroy

Kelly: Ok, but you know Batman, Sin City and Lone Wolf and Cub right?

Sheldon Coltrane: Oh, thanks. Back to my level now. Thanks a million. I could see some of the new Batman with the Scott Adkins scene in the techno club. It's funny, I was waiting for him to show up the whole movie cause I'm a huge fan of his. So all the way through I'm waiting for him to show up. It took me about 5 minutes in to the card scene to clock on. Like hang on a minute, that's Scott Adkins in a fat suit.

Kelly: Incredible. I don't think it's a scene they'd manage to get in the first film.

Sheldon Coltrane: What?

Kelly: Just the time to throw in a subplot like that. This little side quest where he has to take out Adkins. You can't really fit that in to a 90 minuter

Sheldon Coltrane: True.

Kelly: Anyone who says it lacks substance, that's what I'd go to. There is a substance in the style. In the way it finally connects itself to cinema and literature. All the references land. I mean, it's great to finally see a movie visually acknowledging other works again rather than wasting time condescendingly telling you what it's referencing.

Sheldon Coltrane: I hate that. It really slows down the films. When they have to stop and tell you what's going down. I always think please just get back to the action.

Kelly: Yeah, above all keep the pacing up. If you have to slow down to tell us what you're doing that's not good. Keep it on the move. Otherwise you lose economy.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'm all about economy.

Kelly: I know. I am too.

Sheldon Coltrane: Economy above all else.

Kelly: Some have said you could shave down the runtime of Chapter but I'm not too sure where.

Sheldon Coltrane: I feel like I'd want to take off maybe 15 or 20 minutes. But you're right, I couldn't tell you where.

Kelly: It’s too easy to say that as a benchmark but finding the places. You'd have to remove something like that subplot of fighting Adkins but who would want to lose that? To me, the length is justified because this needed to be this great big epic graphic novel.

Sheldon Coltrane: I'm more bothered about the action. That overhead camera long take. We talked about DePalma before. That's something he would do. That sequence isn't nothing. I'd go as far as to say it's some of the best choreography in any movie ever.

Kelly: Ah the very scene that made me go, this is the best film I've ever seen in the cinema. This is my Mad Max: Fury Road. Just pure pop entertainment. The peak of that. You brought up the western/eastern hybrid. I think it's one of the best since Star Wars to so effortlessly combine the two styles of filmmaking.

Sheldon Coltrane: I wouldn't hold it up to Star Wars but I get what you're saying. Like George Lucas, Chad Stahelski shares that passion for Kurosawa.

Kelly: They're cinephiles. No doubt. It's as though they've made The Good, The Bad and The Ugly for Daft Punk heads. I'm on my knees for that shit. Justice when he's ascending the Montmartre stairs. We've got Johnny doing donuts round the Arc De Triomphe to Gesaffelstein. Best surreal hitman flick in Paris since Holy Motors.

Sheldon Coltrane: John Wick Mode.

Kelly: The whole DJ thing to score the set pieces was genius.

Sheldon Coltrane: Paint it Black. What a great song. Rolling Stones are probably my favourite band. Beatles were great but I'm more of a Stones man.

Kelly: It's all completely fair. Beatles were more innovative but Stones, well they're just cool aren't they.

Sheldon Coltrane: McCartney trying to downplay them recently by declaring them just some blues band.

Kelly: But they were?

Sheldon Coltrane: Kelly behave. The Stones are the greatest.

Kelly: Ok. Ok. You know what really had me on board with Chapter 4 from the outset. Having everyone fighting like that in the opening half hour or so. Keanu, Donnie Yen and Hiroyuki Sanada. What other American franchise offers that?

Sheldon Coltrane: We may never see that again in such a big blockbuster. Whatever complaints I have of this series are resolved just on that. Bringing all our favourite martial arts heroes together like this. Scott Adkins too. I just hope it makes people go out and seek these guys other films. IP Man, Iron Monkey, Dragon, Avengement, Ninja 2, Day of Reckoning .

Kelly: Let's hope so. I'm never getting over John Wick with the nunchuks round his neck whilst reloading. That's cinema.

Sheldon Coltrane: It's the little things. Also, all movies should end with a duel.

Kelly: That goes without saying. I had a strange feeling coming of John Wick Chapter 4. You see, it re-woke my old alter-ego. I thought I buried Kung Fu Kelly in a quiet graveyard off the M56. John Wick Chapter 4 has awakened him. He's back. Like if you want me from now on, I'll be stood by the Eiffel Tower shadowboxing waiting to be tested in some 1 on 1s. Those who don't know, my weapon of choice: my bear hands.

Sheldon Coltrane: John Wick Mode activated?

Kelly: Well and truly...

*During our conversation, we agreed to both include a list of our top 10 fight movies for new comers wanting to explore the genre further after John Wick Chapter 4.

Coltrane's Top 10:

1. Enter The Dragon (1973)

2. The Way of the Dragon (1972)

3. The Night Comes for Us (2018)

4. Fist of Legend (1994)

5. Ong-Bak: Muay Thai Warrior (2003)

6. The Protector (2005)

7. Five Deadly Venoms (1978)

8. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

9. Lady Snowblood (1973)

10. 8 Diagram Pole Fighter (1984)

Kelly's Top 10:

1. A Touch of Zen (1970)

2. Enter the Dragon (1973)

3. Clan of the White Lotus (1980)

4. The Big Boss (1971)

5. The Raid (2011)

6. The Night Comes for Us (2018)

7. 5 Elements Ninjas (1982)

8. Five Deadly Venoms (1978)

9. The 36th Chamber of Shaolin (1978)

10. The Invincible Armour (1977)

Bonus Points:

-Cinematic ambitions finally realised. The Kurosawa. The John Ford. The Tarantino. East meets West hybrid. A rare masterpiece in pure pop entertainment like Mad Max: Fury Road. Finally worthy of David Lean and Lawrence of Arabia

-Visual references over dialogue

-Establishes itself as a cinematic graphic novel or manga akin to Batman, Sin City and Shogun Assassin

-Scott Adkin's fighting skills in the fat suit

-The Good, The Bad and The Ugly for Daft Punk heads

-Johnny doing donuts round the fucking Arc De Triomph to Gesaffelstein's Hate or Glory

-Johnny falling down the Montmarte Stairs being this Sisyphus moment

-Johnny with the nunchuks round his neck whilst reloading rapidly

-Johnny reloading whilst doing a reverse 180

-Ian McShane's mind games to get his hotel back and complete confidence in Johnny. Lance Reddick for representing The Continental until the end

-Bill Skarsgard going full Bond Bad guy. The Kurgen as his assistant. Meetings in front of the artwork for The Pogues classic album. Setting up fights by the Eiffel Tower

-Donnie Yen being at one with the force again. Hiroyuki Sanada's composure

-Ending with a duel

Overall Score:

5/5

Balthazar's Deconstructed Shandy

Let me take you back to either the year 2019 or 2020. The exact year or month is unclear. But I'd be guessing around April or May. All I know is your humble host Mr Funeralopolis was living at Murray Road. A popular phrase back then come Friday evening would be to adopt a full Total Recall Arnie Schwarzenegger voice and scream down the phone to the boys, "Get your ass to Murray Road" And when the call came, you answered. One such man that answered the call on a particular weekend was Balthazar Marie. Infamous pirate of the peninsular without a boat (he's still looking for a houseboat, if you have one for sale please send information to Funeralopolis headquarters and we'll pass the information on). For the life of me and probably for the best, I cannot recall what we got up to that Friday or Saturday evening but on the Sunday morning, hungover as expected, we opted to treat ourselves to some Sunday brunch.

Louis Armstrong and His Hot Five's Hotter than That was pumping out over the speakers. It was your King of Psycho-Schradism, Balthazar Marie, Ricardo Carvalho and Ricardo's girlfriend at that time, Blondie. All sat together on a table of four down at Hopper, a cosy café on Eccy Road. Reason why I'd place this as being around easter time is because we were all seated in the outside section. Those unacquainted with Hopper, I'd recommend that part over the cramped indoor dining area. Their outdoor seating section is a stellar spot you might just miss cause from the front cause you have no indication it's even there. If I remember rightly, the only way to access it is from the street round the back. So it's easily missed. Perhaps the most worrying thing was that Ricardo decided to order a bottle of heavy liquor at about half 10 in the morning when the rest of us were still hanging. No, actually it could be more worrying that he spent about half an hour trying to order from the menu because he couldn't read the words on the page. These were his alcoholic days and as some will know, an alcoholic will do what and an alcoholic will do. Yet, these troublesome things were not the things that made this Sunday brunch so memorable.

Ricardo's eyes weren't working and my ears weren't working. As a table of four, between us we just about had a full functioning set of senses. Balthazar has an unnaturally long conversation with the waiter. None of which, I could decipher. Lips moved, sounds were heard, no sense was made. When this poor waiter returns later with all our drinks, he hands Balthazar 2 glasses. Zwei Gläser. One filled with a browny yellow substance, easily recognisable to the trained eye as beer. The other filled with carbonated lemon juice, known by most as lemonade. He proceeded with whatever conversation we were having with Blondie, whilst Ricardo was still scanning the food menu. I couldn't let this go on any longer. "Excuse me, what the fuck is that, sir?", I asked nicely. Holding my hand out to visually draw the current conversation to a clear standstill. "A Deconstructed Shandy", replied Balthazar with an unmistakably strong 'duh' tone in his voice.

"What?", I asked again, this time trying to point at the monstrosity before me but not knowing which glass to point at and so wavering my finger between the two. "A Deconstructed Shandy", repeated Balthazar without explanation. I began to wonder whether this was a real thing or a Balthazar invention. This is something I've googled since and have not a single piece of evidence to suggest its authenticity as a beverage. Suddenly, it occurred to me that this might have been the reason for the unnatural delay. There's no way you could say, "sort us out with a Deconstructed Shandy, mate" and expect a sane individual would know what you mean. Given the nature of what we were dealing with, it was a miracle the waiter understood the request as quickly as he did. Fair play to him for the speed at which he engaged in these particular services. Poor chap did not need his head popping like that on a Sunday morning. Ever since the incident, I wish I had heard the initial explanation given so I could see the waiter deal with this unusual request in real time.

For the next 20 minutes, I demand Balthazar to disclose to me what the fuck these two glasses sitting in front of me were. Everything he knew about the Deconstructed Shandy. "It's simple really, A Constructed Shandy would have the beer and the lime/lemonade together", he expertly reveals. I nodded along to show I was listening and agreeing. "Ok, so we've got to the bottom of what this is and what the conventional would be. Now can we get a bit more on the why this is? Why couldn't you just put de lime in de beer and drank 'em bot' up?", I asked him. "Because Mr Nilsson, I don't want it that way. That way would mix them too equally", answers our deconstructionist. "What's wrong with that though? People been doing the old way for centuries. No-one's complaining. So why bother?", I interrupt. "Look, let's say I want a bit more beer on this sip or maybe on the next one I want a stronger after taste of lime. My method achieves that. You could say...this is how I win", exclaims Balthazar with unmatchable confidence.

"Ok, so what you're talking about is compositions. You're saying through this technique you're getting new flavours each time", I theorise aloud. "Is this like the New Order Confusion Pump Panel Deconstruction Mix?", jumps in Ricardo from behind his food menu. "That's the Reconstruction Mix", corrects Balthazar. "What?", cries out Ricardo, dropping the menu so we can see his horrible face. "The RE Reconstruction Mix. RE. There's no Deconstruction mix. Just RE". Ricardo screws up that horrible face of his, shakes his head and gets back to ferociously attacking his wine bottle. Jesus, I thought, this was getting far too overcomplicated for my hungover brain. I didn't even want to think about reconstruction right now. Why couldn't things just be neatly constructed like the good old days? The all or nothing days. The no fucking around days.

Now when my mind wonders back to Balthazar sipping from his 2 glasses, all I can think of is the Kuleshov Effect. A legendary short film from none other than lev Kuleshov back in 1919. About a hundred years before Balthazar Marie would deconstruct a shandy in Hopper café. In this short, we see the same close up shot repeated multiple times of a man. In between, we see images such as a meal, a baby and a woman.

When we return back to the central image of the man, notice that the shot doesn't change, only our perception of it does based on the image that precedes it in the sequence. If we see food, we assume he's hungry. If we see the baby, we assume he's happy. If we see the woman, we assume he's horny. Hungry, happy, horny. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the power of the montage. A single isolated image has little value but when that single isolated image interacts with another image it has the ability to alter in meaning. In a sense, the editing takes over the performance. As proved by Mr Kuleshov.

Our Russian friends were the early Kings of montage. Sergei Eisenstein is the man to check out in this arena. His film Battleship Potemkin released in 1925 is my vote for best film of the silent era. Emotionally, I'll always have a place for Buster Keaton and his rather romantic precursor to Pirates of the Caribbean and Temple of Doom, known as The Navigator (If you're a woman and we watch that and then you like that, you're then my wife for all eternity, I mean it, I'll get down on one knee then and there). But the film that really conquered the limits of silent filmmaking was Battleship Potemkin. Since sound, it's probably 2001: A Space Odyssey but back then it was Potemkin. Notably, it managed to silence the argument early on whether political propaganda could produce good art. If people didn't know it back in 1925, they would later learn it in 1966 with Gillo Pontecovro's The Battle of Algieres and then again in 1969 with Costa Gavras's Z, that in some cases propaganda can in fact advance cinema. These films create new storytelling methods as a necessity to justify their own existence and work cinematically.

Potemkin was so good, Eisenstein couldn't even repeat his own success. I rate Strike and October for the ambition, hard not to respect anyone who's only restricted by the technological limitations of their time but truthfully, he runs in to some glaring narrative troubles. His crime? Trying to fit in too many intertitles and ruining the flow of the movie.

Consequently, these two become rather stuffy due to cramming in all the details of their revolutions depicted. Write with the camera, not with the pen. More so than ever in the silent era. A trick which caused Alfred Hitchcock to remain ahead of the game for years as he had experience in the silent era. Watch any of his films and I'm sure you'd understand about 90% of them without the sound on. He's the master of show, don't tell. As is the requirement when operating within such a visual medium. It pays not to be too literary in this game.

Even when sound caught up with him, Eisenstein struggled with dialogue that flowed too. His 2 parter Ivan the Terrible was a fun historical epic if a little wayward and clunky. Like all good science fictions and historical epics, this was actually a contemporary piece using the different time period as an illusion to comment on recent events. On this occasion, Eisenstein threw in some subversive anti-Stalin sentiments that did not go unnoticed. He wasn't suddenly anti-communist but he had a few disagreements with Premier Stalin. Not the only one, Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev, whilst also not strictly anti-communist is a statement on the difficulties of making art within that system.

Eisenstein would eventually return to the simplicity of Potemkin and obtain a first masterpiece in sound era Alexander Nevsky. On this project, they forced in Dmitriy Vasilev as the co-director on the grounds that Eisenstein be kept from descending in to formalism, which really meant critiquing communism. Ironically, this ends up being his most formally experimental since Battleship Potemkin with less dialogue and more attention to camera work than his other talkies. As evident in the picture above, many shots are these striking close ups that lead the story. Above all though, his main vision with this one was about the emergence of Nazi Germany, hence all the fascist imagery in the mise en scene. However, somewhere along the line, he still managed to piss off the Premier and the reels of the film were quickly destroyed, in spite of international acclaim. This film features the incredible Battle on Ice, a sequence which even though you may never have seen, you've seen it.

But Kelly how's that possible you ask? It's frequently referenced in such classics as, Wizards, Conan the Barbarian, Mulan and Empire Strikes Back. It's a must see. This represents George Lucas at his best for me, taking these kinds of sequences from foreign cinema and doing his own western version often mixed with trash like Flash Gordon. He was the original Tarantino I'm afraid, sampling from Eisenstein to Kurosawa.

Jumping back to the arrival of the Nazis, they were so inspired by Battleship Potemkin and the influence this fresh art form could have on the masses, Goebbels himself decided to take full control of their film industry. Leading up this, Germany was one of the greatest and most dominant national cinemas in the silent era. They had given the world German Expression, the first extremely successful attempt to mix art movements with film, expanding the medium past other art forms and bettering them. Purely visual too, hence its success in the silent era. So what did Goebbels do the second he took charge? He booted out all the Jewish filmmakers who just so happened to be the best ones they had. Amuses me that in a rather film bro moment, he didn't kill Fritz Lang, telling him he admired his catalogue but he had to go. Hitchcock's master Murnau wasn't Jewish but he ended up dying in a car accident. Things did not go well for Goebbels during his reign over the German film industry and the majority of the films in this period are forgotten about.

Time and time again, he tried to recreate Battleship Potemkin for the Nazi party with no luck. About the closest he came to success was through Leni Riefenstahl. Triumph of the Will captures the 1934 Nuremberg Rally. These days it just reminds me of Zack Snyder's Watchmen, it's complete costume fetishisation and fascism. Ironically, the original Watchmen graphic novel was supposed to be Alan Moore's celebration of anarchism but here comes this clown to shut down the party. Zack being Zack (a stupid fuck), he accidentally creates a fascist piece of art. Yes, there is such thing as fascist art. This tends to promote individual beauty, strength and racial purity. Its works seek to evoke awe and intimidate.

Riefenstahl manipulates cinematic techniques to highlight these aspects such as framing of soldiers in near pornographic stances. Lines and lines of well postured men walking towards the camera in angles that make them appear most threatening. Emphasis on those Hugo Boss outfits. In later years, shooting in this style has been studied by the likes of Kubrick and Disney transforming it in to the art of evil if it isn't already. Those wanting to know more about the art of evil, Lars Von Trier's The House that Jack Built is cinemas best albeit not strictly serious take on the subject. A film in which the Danish legend uses himself and his films as a reference point in history to pure evil as it descends in to Dante's Inferno.

Riefenstahl maintains Triumph of the will was merely a documentary covering an event that belongs to cinema verité. Leni, I find this hard to believe, there is no neutrality involved when you construct images together in a manner which promotes fascism. There is still the argument of refusing to condemn means supporting but let's put that aside at the moment and say if you were wanting to be objective (which is very difficult and maybe even impossible) wouldn't you opt for a more fly on the wall approach? Something close to a style which serves as a precursor to Pennebaker's Direct Cinema? Do not bullshit me again, Leni. You were a criminal. You were the Nazi parties cinematic face and you belonged in a jail cell.

Feminists continue to champion her work as one of cinemas early filmmakers. Alice Guy Blache and Germaine Dulac remain less problematic but were nowhere near as innovative. Lois Weber and he film Suspense from 1913 is head and shoulders above anything Guy Blache and Dulac ever contributed. Slightly after Riefenstahl's most creative period but Maya Deren would be my number one go to woman of early cinema. She could be the best female director in history. You Pixies loving freaks and Gaspar Noe heads love to chat the ears off anyone who will listen about the eyeball slicing surrealist classic Un Chien Andalou, maybe it's time you added Meshes of the Afternoon and At Land to your verbal repertoire.

Detour in to women's cinema history aside, Riefenstahl once did make a movie which nearly worked on me. I found Triumph of the Will to be too obvious as to its propaganda. Her shooting of the Olympic Games back in 1936 was a much more subtly evil and effective piece of propaganda because the intentions are not as easy to spot. On the surface it appears innocent. She opens these with a montage of Greek statues and then cuts to our athletes in training camps. Alright Kuleshov gang, I'm sure you can establish the comparison she is trying to make here between past and present. That these are the Übermensch. The strongest of the strongest. The elite. We're dealing with those who carry the perfect genes that need to be passed on to ensure the pure race and most competent version of our species. You know who else likes to use Greek mythology in their films? Zack Snyder and pretty much all superhero movies. Isn't that why he kept returning to Superman so he could keep shooting him in this manner and working on the best possible pose and framing to capture that ethos? Wonder Woman's history is equally problematic with those tribes. Not to say that Hollywood is intentionally churning out fascism (Snyder's too much of an idiot to be credited for this, he's an accidental fascist) but if it's another reason to get this shite off our screens, I'll back it.

Another place I see the legacy of Riefenstahl's Olympia is in Claire Denis's Beau Travail, which tells its story not through a conventional narrative but through the body. A Homoerotic tale bordering on body horror as military men roll around in the mud and fight with each other as part of their boot camp. Not a million miles away from the Olympic training montages. When I refer to Olympia as Riefenstahl and her fascist agenda nearly operating at its most effective, this is because it operates in a real grey area where that ideology is most accessible. Fascism, as I mentioned is about selfpreservation. Sadly beefcakes, I'm talking about exercise. Everybody wants to be healthy and denouncing this tends to be laughable. I wish I could tell people I'm not lazy and that the reason I don't go the gym is because it's the fascist's playground but this would be rather silly.

If there is such a thing as fascinating fascism or the allure of such an evil movement it does lie in this arena. Exactly the reason Mishima's books always amuse me and I can't stop watching Oliver Stone's coked up Conan the Barbarian. Olympia on the surface appears innocent, capturing a fun sporting event but there is a more sinister agenda at work. Let's not toot Riefenstahl's horn too soon, she may have manipulated the capabilities of cinema, constructed images together in an impeccable assortment which highlights the promotable qualities of fascism but there was one thing she didn't count on that really demerits all of her brilliance.

In 1936, she may have carved perhaps the greatest cinematic argument for fascism ever conceived but all that would be ruined in an instant. Enter: Jesse Owens. A black man from Alabama who stole the show by winning four gold medals, proving the fascist ideology of a pure race to be absolute nonsense. Leni Riefenstahl in the mud. All her hard work, and give her some credit, she almost made a coherent visual essay for fascism, destroyed in an instant. How fucking amusing. In a way, it still makes Olympia an incredible watch, just not in the way it was intended. Mainly for Owen's mighty success and the unintended camp of seeing Hitler trying to remain calm and in control but definitely losing his head behind the scenes. Quality stuff. It's Wacky Races the live action film, starring Hitler as old Dick Dastardly himself.

Right, so we learnt images could be constructed and placed together to produce meaning. An image alone having little power but together telling a story. This led to governments recognising the potential to use the medium as a political tool to indoctrinate the masses. The Soviets having a bloody good go at it and the fascists making a fool of themselves. Next, we turn our attention to a man we wrote an article on after his death, Jean Luc-Godard. Any of my fellow Psycho-Schradists who missed this, it is in Vol. 1 Issue #3. Advise you go back and give that a read for this titans history. Since, I went in to such detail there and have already waffled on longer than I should have about montages and early political pieces from the left and right, I will try to skim through this section quickly, If I am in fact capable of such a task.

Godard was one of cinemas first and most recognised post-modernists. The French New Wave made it their mission to clean up cinema and guarantee its place as an art form. One to be lauded as much as music and painting. Part of their process was to reference what they believed to be decent cinema and to subvert the vast catalogue of Hollywood films. Breathing fresh youthful life in to the bland and repetitive rubbish pumped out under the classical Hollywood model. Godard's genius was realising patterns in how images were assorted. I believe he really questioned: why is it that a sequence of images could result in a particular meaning? He studied the order closer than anyone before him and made the link of laziness in having this routine practice for what the order should be in a given sequence. This mad man decide to change the order and that is what gravitates cinema to being art and not just another commodity.

He is a deconstructionist. 2 of his finest examples that always come to mind can be seen in his noir parody debut Breathless and underrated Sci-Fi gem Alphaville. The one in Breathless comes early, we see Jean-Paul Belmondo, Mr Screen Presence, shooting a cop and going on the run. We see the Peppa arriving on his motorbike in a wide shot and we never see him get off. Cut to Belmondo getting something out of his car and we never actually see him get the object out. Another cut now to a close up of Belmondo's face (no longer leaning in to his car but from side on as he's standing upright). The camera tilts down his body to his elbow and then pans right across to the gun in his hand, which is then fired. One more cut to the Peppa's fall. A final cut to Jean-Paul comedically sprinting off through the fields with some silly Hollywood getaway music playing. Each time there tends to be a few shots missing we typically expect to see for visual clarity, mainly in that the gun and its target are never in the same shot. Thus, challenging the vocabulary of cinema.

In Alphaville, he presents a fight as a series of tableaux. As though broken up comic panels that should have, "BAM!" Or "WHOOSH!", sound effect bubble accompaniment as opposed to the fluid motion that cinema can provide in being a different medium. Now, you might ask what is the meaning then behind changing the nature of these images from what we are conventionally expected to see?

Is it not just a formal exercise? Style over substance? I mean you could probably defend them on their added comedy or suspense but if you really want to see a greater maturity and why we needed to depart from the generic order of images in a familiar sequence then accept that these were early works proving that there is at least some formal value and what you really need to see is his later films Weekend and Contempt. These are evidence that new meanings can be found in the changing of the compositions. The former being strongly political and the latter emotionally resonant in a way that trumps any generic montages.

Next, we would see montages grow in popularity during the '80s in a more commercial sense for music videos with the arrival of MTV. Action and dance films would incorporate them not to be particularly innovative but to maintain strict economy. For this, see any film directed by Sylvester Stallone. Rocky IV and Staying Alive covering both action and dance. Jump to the next decade and we're in to the '90s, when postmodernism was back on the brain after Pulp Fiction. Believing the slasher cycle to be bearing its end creatively, Wes Craven took a stab at the postmodernism with New Nightmare. The seventh instalment of the Nightmare on Elm Street series, which radically alters the franchise by positioning the character as a film creation who invades the real world.

If your name is Mark Kermode you are contractually obligated to discuss this film every week on your podcast as the symbol of meta filmmaking. Undeniably, New Nightmare is a great film and I'm sure it has some significance if you were to see Craven's attempt there first being released prior to Scream even if it is flawed. Originality and all that but time has passed and Scream is the go to now best seen as demonstrating this style. So it only makes it more odd and humorous that Kermode continues to ramble on about New Nightmare any chance he gets instead. Postmodernism wasn't only restricted to horror in the '90s, it made its way in to rom-coms too. Heath Ledger was kind of the face of all that with his modern hip Shakespeare and intentionally anachronistic Chaucer adaptations. Kermode's continued support of New Nightmare would be like saying A Knight's Tale is better than 10 Things I Hate About You. It isn't.

Scream and 10 Things I Hate About You are the classics of the arena, get with the programme, Mark! Or actually don't I guess because these two don't need any more pushing, whereas more people need to see New Nightmare. Like all good things (myself), Scream came out in the year 1996. Enough time has passed to say Scream is a classic and part of cinemas canon, which is scary considering we're the same age and it's old enough to be eligible for such status. Avoiding the fact it's reached this position is the wrong move, it has happened. We must now ask ourselves repeatedly, what was it that made Scream so good? Why was it a landmark film?

We'd come out the '80s, which was a period marked by excess with Ronald Reagan and that signified endless sequels of slashers. On the other hand, the '90s was a lot more reflexive and referential so it marked the perfect time for it to be unleashed on the world. This was the time of hip hop and sampling. Although waning in critical approval, having reached a creative dead end, due to the whole concept of diminishing returns, slashers were actually increasing in popularity or more accurately acceptability. Nerds like Roger Ebert had grown accustomed to seeing their controversial images and place within culture that they no longer even bothered to criticise them from an ethical point. They were what they were, every angle had been heard and the conversation was over. Society's stance had changed so much or rather the studios had cottoned on to how they were such an easy money maker that their principles lay down for the gold before them.

Inevitably then you will get higher production values with the studio involvement and better writers can be found when the genres so hot. Scream brought screenwriter Kevin Williamson to prominence and his meta style became vogue in the '90s. Another of his projects that came later was I Know What You Did Last Summer that swaps Shaggy for Fred. Elsewhere, you can see his modus operandi evident in other people's films from the '90s in the likes of Urban Legend and Halloween H20: 20 Years Later. Unsure as to what changed? It's mainly in the characters. For a long time, a bizarre unwritten rule of cinema was that characters have not seen other movies. They do not bow to pop culture and are strangely unaware of its existence.

Williamson changed all that by making his characters aware of the same rules the films audience acknowledge. Therefore, we got the legendary character Randy Meeks, a horror scholar who has learnt every cliché in the book. He knows the connection between sex and death. He knows the consequences of saying, "I'll be right back". He knows the front door is always the better option than the stairs. He knows the mythical and sexual link between predator and prey. He knows the fantasy elements and dodgy politics that come with having POV shots from the killer's perspective. He knows the phallic symbolism of the killer's weapon and its penetration of women as an act of sexual frustration and misogyny. He knows the killer's systematic targeting is due to their uncomfortable relationship with their gender and sordid family history. He knows the final girls triumph in act three is oddly feminist in spite of anything in the previous two acts. Making Scream not just another slasher but a celebration of all slashers. A loving tribute if you will that finds new ground in the process.

Unlike most parody and satirical films, Scream knows how to toe the line and not step outside of the genre trappings to tell a joke. Characters never stop being characters to become actors that can explain something and break the fourth wall. Jokes are neatly picked so that the body remains intact and it still works as a slasher in its own right. It's not like it picks the easy route. There's a scene in which the characters discuss who would play themselves if this were a movie and in another they compare the sexual nature of their romance with that of the MPA's film rating system. Williamson comes as close to the edge as possible and somehow it doesn’t come apart at the seams. Scream is still a slasher, as opposed to a conversation in the pub between people who love slashers. That's its true gift. As fictional cinematographer Kurt Longjohn once said in Boogie Nights, "It's a real film, Jack"

Eventually, as you well know, I'd lose my patience with studio horror because of how it pollutes the films with illconceived notions of quality, good taste and pointless studio messages sacrificing the films of their punk appeal. Horrors raw, it's got to be one step ahead of the studios, pointing to what they can't say. If it's not then it merely serves the status quo and soon becomes redundant.

Plus, it loses that guerrilla aspect and the whole fuck you to the studios crediting the little guys. However, back in the '90s, before horrors became ridiculously watered down, everything was such a free for all that these films still retain an edge that you don't see these days in our riskless cancel culture society. Look at the studio who produced and distributed Scream. The Weinstein Brothers have their dirty little hands all over it. Forgetting that little sexual scandal for a moment, remember those guys brought us one of the best slashers of the '80s, The Burning. They know this arena.

Dimension Films were also behind Scream, Robert Rodriguez's company, the exploitation king who gave us Desperado, El Mariachi, Planet Terror and Machete This dude even wrote the respected book, Rebel Without a Crew, Or How a 23 Year Old Filmmaker with $7,000 Became a Hollywood player. Regarded as the quintessential text for going in to low budget filmmaking. Years later he would even try to recreate his starting scenario with a very noble experiment, Red 11 using the exact same budget as El Mariachi. Cannot recall any other director attempting an experiment like that. In the '90s, you had the choice of 2 people to cast as your resident goth/punk. Scream didn't have Fairuza Balk but it does have Mathew Lillard, old Shaggy himself. Having considered all this, Scream may be a studio horror but it doesn't lose its rough roots. If horror is to infiltrate mainstream, then I'm happy for the first Scream's success. It remains an excellent film.

Scream 2 they churned out pretty quickly and it shows. Only a year later. Very little to add in terms of what it satirises. Their best joke comes right at the start with their nod to the expendable black characters who are always dying first in a horror movie. However, as a straight up slasher with a few good jokes scattered in, it's fantastic. Has some amazing suspense sequences. Namely, Sidney crawling out the cop car and Randy's death. Unfortunately, as good a kill as Randy's was, they should never have gone ahead with that. They killed one of their best characters off far too soon. Definitely, a move they would later regret. You sacrificed your Queen early! You hit the NOS too soon as they'd say in the Fast and Furious films. As a Cotton Weary stan though, it's hard to say Scream 2 isn't a fun time. Especially the whole theatrical end set literally right on a stage.

Whilst on a technical level, there is no way you could argue that Scream 3 is better than Scream 2, I will defend that it has a much better plot. Roger Ebert, who was a fan of the first two would criticise the third for the fact the set-up is done so that it is impossible to work out the identity of the killer, thus breaking the core rules of the whodunnit. Although, he is 100% correct in his statement that it is impossible to work out the killer and in effect cheats its audience due to the lack of logical clues, using this as justification for a negative response misses the point entirely. Scream 3 tackles its time with the difficulties of releasing a slasher film when there is the internet to deal with and the potential for spoilers being leaked online.

In the past, filmmakers were safe knowing that there was only so far word of mouth could spread. No-one was prepared for viral links and online chatrooms. Therefore, this causes constant rewrites to change the ending and the big reveal. A logical pattern of clues becomes disregarded and a new killer is picked seemingly on the day by the studio. No preparation. No motive. Just may as well do a toss of the coin. Anyone can be the killer. Scream 3 embraces the struggle head on and parodies it with their plot. Often, two killers are used but on this occasion, the wheel rolled and landed on Roman. They were fully aware of what they were doing and genuinely made one of the best statements about the condition of horror when it was made. If only they could have gone one step further and found a way to counter the difficulties of working under these conditions where spoilers are so easily accessible, that would have been truly impressive. Sadly it falls in to the area of satire without solution. Suspense and thrills may be limited but based on the statement made I do appreciate Scream 3 and do not believe it to be the worst one as many fans claim.

There is a gap of 11 years between Scream 3 and Scream 4. One of the smartest moves they ever made. I wish they would learn from this. If Scream is going to be this tool to evaluate the state of horror at any one time, then we need to stop pumping another of these every single year. What could possibly change during that time that's worth talking about? Follow the trends, if nothing's changed then stay silent for otherwise you lose credibility.

Releasing about every 10 years would be adequate. Gives time for new voices to appear with radically different ideas. Let Scream be a special event, once it becomes a yearly occurrence well then you're just making Stab, the in-movie throughout the franchise. How can you think you're better than everyone else when you're pulling the exact same moves of relentlessly releasing? When you do this, how can I not lose my respect for you? I'd rather just watch the endless sequels to slashers cause at least they don't have the air of superiority about them that the latest two Screams have. '80s slasher sequels are dumb and they're open about it. They harvest no illusions of grandeur as to what they are so it's impossible to hate them as they're so damn honest and don't look to deceive by any means. They are what they are. Nothing worse than pseudointellectualism. Play to your strengths, I dislike dishonesty.

Regardless of quality, I would always have some nostalgia for Scream 4. Ranks up there with my all-time favourite cinema trips. It came out at the perfect time for me. Age wise? I must have been about 14 or 15. My first proper experience of how this kind of movie should play out in a packed cinema. Birds screaming. Dudes laughing. People throwing popcorn. I got high on that shit from the start. Confirmed my love for the genre. Returning to Scream 4, you'll notice it doesn't just hold up well, it was actually well ahead of its time. So many films now are turning to that insanity of grabbling likes on social media, looking for constant approval and friendship coming second to followers.

It's all superficial and overdone now with awful efforts like Spree, Deadstream and Sissy. Some of the worst satires to date but it's clear that whole social media influencer or blogger is a common role now in horror. A go to psychopath. The strongest image I've ever actually encountered in this field was at the end of the underrated campy delight Eli Roth's Knock Knock, when Keanu Reeves is buried in the ground with only his head sticking out and he accidentally likes the post that 'cancels' him with the Pixies song Where is My Mind playing. Genuinely, a great reworking of Death Game to fit our times. This coming in 2015 was still quite ahead of the curve, before it became such a cheap and easy theme. However, to see all this in Scream 4, where murders are filmed and put online for shallow fame is crazy. This was 2011.

Regularly cited as a fault in Scream 4 is its distain for the younger characters. Didn't bother me at all, it was suitable for what they were going for, which was a soulless generation looking for attention online. The scope widens and it quickly jumps on the success of The Social Network (dropped only the year before). Apparently, Wes Craven, may he rest in peace, has a director's cut for Scream 4. Very interested in knowing how to access that. Inform me if you will how one would obtain this. I hear it's been met with great approval by horror fans.

Right, so all this rambling leads us in to Scream 5 back in 2022. What I was hoping for was a plot like Scream 3, echoing the problems at the level of production. Something addressing the frequent studio algorithms used in place of risk. Everything being almost too smooth, missing a human factor, where the return of older characters and kills are decided on a monetary basis. Something similar to how in The Cabin in the Woods, the secret organisers write down all the villains on the board and take bets on who will surface and be called in to action. Anything to acknowledge how these films have become so devoid of imagination and personal vision. Franchises dictated by the studio with not one individual taking control any more. No foresight in to the future and how to progress story past each individual film. As is a massive issue with the current condition of the industry.

Instead all Scream 5 can do is poke fun at the Halloween revival (dropping the number in the title to be like that one) and Disney's Star Wars with the concept of 'requels'. Basically, that for financial security, what you do is combine the legacy characters with new ones. Therefore satisfying the nostalgia heads with those seeking something new. Cheers. Thanks for that Scream. Very interesting. Very deep. Pat yourselves on the back. You came up with that one all by yourselves? How did you manage that? Round of applause. They even dive in to the toxicity of fan bases. None of that interests me at all, especially when it's so halfhearted and done to deflect from problems with studio filmmaking. The effect of Scream 5 reminded me of watching Vampire's Suck, one of the worst movies ever made, in that you're sat thinking, this is so bad I'd rather be watching the movies you're supposedly better than and trying to belittle.

For the first time, Scream felt behind the curve rather than ahead. In fact, it's so stupid and poorly written that people see this as championing elevated horror rather than slamming it because it pulls its punches. In the opening scene, we have the latest former Disney Channel Princess gone rogue, Jenna Ortega, naming her favourite horror films as belonging to the current wave of so called 'elevated horror'. A list that would include recent popular hits such as, Hereditary, The Babadook and Get Out. She adds that they have more of a focus now on the psychological mindsets of characters (as though no horror movie ever attempted such a feat before these films). To which Ghostface humorously replies, "sounds boring". A very dudes rock response, disregarding this 'intellectual' side involved lately. Return to tradition. Raw and dirty. Good old Ghostface.

This one throwaway line isn't enough for me. Sums up the movie in how it is so self-satisfied with doing the bare minimum. Take the mocking further. Ask me what the problem with contemporary horror and I'd just say read Funeralopolis. It only crops up in every issue. Studio horrors have popped up already in this piece with their unstoppable desire to conform to notions of good taste, removing any sense of thrill or moral ambiguity. They adhere and conform to current thinking rather than challenging popular opinion. Watered down garbage to be soaked up and they're not even entertaining enough to satisfy the most basic of desires. Other than your Blumhouse and New Line output, we have all these A24 movies. There have been good ones. There have also been those like 'Men' that capture the Pseudo-intellectualism prevalent. A24 started out with great intentions but as of late weird for weirds sake and somehow still not even that weird appears to be the current branding.

This goes for both the good films and bad films coming out today but anyone saying they are part of the collective tag 'elevated horror' needs to take a good long look at themselves and realise (and I hate saying this word) how pretentious that is as a term. It's like 'intellectual dance music' (IDM) back in the '90s. Pisses me off as it discredits older horror as never having anything of value, which is blatant nonsense. The newer generation and even sadly mine would think horror was created 5 minutes ago. Their whole arrogant attitude is driving the films today too, as characters reflect the public consciousness. I'm sure these movies would be great if they laughed at people like that but no these are the good guys.

Too often does the subtext come overbearing today to the point the body of the film is destroyed. Purpose comes before structure. That's what I don't like, the lack of integrity present in the construction. If you're making a genre film, you start with the body or foundations and then you add in whatever your personal subject is that excites you. That's the game. Effectively, you hide your interests in the picture. These days you can pick up all you need to know from a trailer. Unfortunately, it's the complete wrong way round in approach now and what you're watching is no longer a slasher but rather someone's ramblings. As if the studio hires vaguely educated people and shoves them on any genre that clearly isn't suited to them. Honestly, I think the whole idea of genre is dying out as they all just merge in to one and rubbish from other genres gets filtered through until they're all one and the same. Appealing to everyone and then to no-one.

Usually these vaguely educated writers gravitate towards the vogue topics of social validation, cancel culture and the endless barriers of social media. The so called good characters in the movies are just self-righteous arrogant arseholes. This is not to say that I condoned the dodgy characters in older slashers. We were allowed to laugh them and that was the fun. Now all the characters just wank each other off over who is the most decent person in the room. This has greater importance to the killing, it’s a battle for social acceptance. Character assassination being worse than actual assassination. Something which Scream 6 does acknowledge, albeit in the least funny and smug way, which will only have you thinking ok then maybe there is no room for the slasher in this climate, so maybe give up?

Personally, I don't have time for any of these shallow topics and their frequent promotion. Especially when they don't add anything positive/constructive to the discussion or anything that hasn't been said before. A poor price to pay for the thrill of a good old slasher. Its depressingly boring. Whatever happened to the concept of a bunch of dudes getting the beers in, going a party, having a good time, a killer showing up and blood splattering the walls? Can’t believe I'm saying this but it could be simplicity that is needed to combat this pseudo-intellectual bullshit. Return to basics is what Ghostface should be demanding. And one line isn't going to cut it for me. Send these nerds packing, Ghostface!

Scream 5 is so content with latching on to singular films that it can't make a wider commentary on the genre or industry as a whole. It does not have a clue where things are going and what to riff on that isn't obvious and in front of its face. It too often succumbs to endorsement of other films flaws rather than critique. Yet, I cannot say that I completely hate Scream 5. One aspect gave it some undeniable likability. That is the nostalgia. Cheap but true. Once you take out the very minor satire at best, then what you have is a film which can be enjoyed to some extent as like a sitcom or soap with a regular set of characters whom we have loved for years. Gale and Dewey's first sighting of each other and Dewey's demise! Skeet Ulrich going full Mirror in the Bathroom. Gale and Sid, who have had their conflicts in previous films, coming together, being the bloody girls when they team up entering the house. Amused me their veteran like understanding of the situation. These wholesome scenes made the faults slightly more tolerable.

Before even laying eyes on Scream 6, it was obvious that the satire the series was once known for would be lacking purely on how quickly it was made. Nothing drastic has happened between now and 2022 to warrant a follow up so soon. Needs a little more before it bursts through the door and on to our screens. It's entire existence comes down to one thing: money. Fine but could the nostalgia card be played once again? Nope. Neve Campbell walked from the project after being asked to take a cut. A cut which made no sense given the fact the previous entry was a big money maker. Make it make sense. Classic case of the company profits going up with no increase down below to its worker's wages. Fair play to Matthew Lillard for supporting his pal and rightly attacking the studio for its decision. Courtney Cox's lack of support for her co-star was downright disgusting and treacherous. Let's go over this. Nothing to satirise. You've pissed off the series lead so she's sitting this one out. Cox should have followed suit but didn't. Oh and Dewey's dead. Before setting foot in the cinema, Scream 6 has nothing going for it.

Should have boycotted this one because wa2tching it was no fun at all. Our new location has been pushed excessively as though this is a redeemable and refreshing factor. This is not a Scream move, this is a Stab move. Sorry, this Psycho-Scradist is a fan of Jason Takes Manhattan

Also, opting for 'New York New Rules' as your tagline and not including Dua Lipa's New Rules is unacceptable. Worse, it's despicable. This is a Scream film, so we open with a famous actress being killed off to give it that pop appeal. On this outing, Samara Weaving plays the Drew Barrymore role. Samara is hot stuff right now, mainly after Ready or Not (also directed by the directors of the last two Scream movies), another overrated non-revolutionary eat the rich film making use of the hunt formula. Preferred her in those trashy The Babysitter films directed by the terrible/brilliant McG. In Scream 6, Weaving plays a film lecturer of course. I want to say there's still some guilty pleasure fun in this method but the Williamson technique is now becoming irritating. These things can be strange and unexplainable like that. In '96 it was ground-breaking, now its verging on annoying. Like when a comedy actor is radically different to anything out there, then all of a sudden, one day you just stop laughing.

There's a real "wahey!" Moment as the killer in the opening takes off the mask to reveal their identity from the outset. It was bound to happen eventually. If you're going to play that move, then it probably goes without saying that you shouldn't make it obvious through the direction and acting. When it enters in to the viewer's head, "that guy's going to take his mask off but they'll kill him too and then the real killer will come in", you've fucked up somewhere along the line and there's no surprise in the tactic. A rather flashy and stupid move you'll see right through.

When the 'fake' killer goes home, it is revealed that his motive was that his lecturer gave him a C- on his "Giallo paper". Couldn't help but take these fools work for the film as a whole and settle on a D. Concluding that Samara Weaving marks too generously. Unforgettable is the reference to the Giallo films though. Does put a smile on my face to think that the genre has become so popular at this point that you can put a joke like that in there without the worry that a mainstream audience won't understand. Is there a possibility that parodying the Giallo could be the way to go?

Especially, when they're clearly so nervous at the thought of going after 'elevated horror' fans and losing their precious new younger audience. Easier to target an already established genre than to risk losing fans by attacking the new community's interests. They wouldn't be the first to take on the Giallo. It's pretty common at independent level. Astron-6 made the excellent The Editors but the floor is still open for talking about the Giallo cycle now that it is fashionable.

I clocked the killer early. They arrive on a crime scene from a strange position in a rather too suspicious manner. The cloak of grief does little to distract. Their actions are off even for their predicament. Consequently, the filmmakers decide to add in multiple killers again to throw you off. Hilariously, that little attempt at distracting you is obvious when a character goes through every movie and talks about how there's normally two killers with the exception of Scream 3. Oh and that reminds me, with the writing being terrible they have to resort to the nostalgia card again. What's up their sleeve? Bringing back Kirby from Scream 4. What next? An extra from Scream 3? Their desperation knows no bounds.

Act 3 literally copies Scream 2s theatricality but is nowhere near as epic. Stealing ideas from themselves now! Bizarrely, they also copy Halloween's trap environment. Genuinely, there's no satire, they copy it. Still looking to David Gordon Green's Halloween for inspiration? Pathetic. Pack it in Scream, thought you were smart and you've come out second best to DGG's ridiculously dumb trilogy. Imagine the embarrassment. Sadly, Scream 6 goes out firing so low it will shock you. Yes, they turn to easiest topic of them all, cancel culture. As Private Hudson in Aliens says, "That's it, man! Game over, man! Game over!".

Since, I'm aware this has been a big wallop of moaning, I wanted to add in that this week I also saw an absolutely incredible post-modern slasher that was not part of the Scream series and I would recommend this instead. Step in 2009's Amer. Instead of satirising just narrative elements it branches out in to deconstructing the image too. Critics have categorised it as strictly Argento worship, which is not exactly false but it does rob it of its wider influences.

More accurately speaking, it is a Godardian Giallo, picking up where Doris Wishman left off with her misunderstood A Night to Dismember and dissecting not just bodies but the entire genre. Wishman's style has always been committed to transforming production obstacles in to artistic choices that give everything an individualistic surreal touch. In her notorious roughie, Bad Girls Go To Hell, she would rearrange furniture to conceal that most of it is actually shot in the same apartment and adding to the trippy aesthetic of the movie. On a Night to Dismember she would re-arrange shot compositions creating an effect similar to Tscherkassky's short film Outer Space. Extremely abrasive and challenging to the perception of overly familiar sequences. Except operating in the realms of low art trash, whereas Amer is noticeably geared closer to high art.

So don't make the mistake of calling Amer genre homage or worship. It is pure genre subversion. Therefore, placing this alongside fellow contemporaries Biller and Strickland, who begin with the Giallo and eurosleaze as a starting point or template and branch outwards to make it their own. In Amer, we get all the colours of the Giallo and the psychedelia but it's also distinctively feminist in a way almost none of those movies from the '70s were. Intrusive shots remain with close ups of ants crawling up thighs in a sexualised Un Chien Andalou manner but here they are presented with vulnerability and fragility. Private sites that should be protected but are exposed for the world to see. Making this a body horror like Beau Travail where every shot of flesh is the story itself over narrative precedence. Visually a web of memories or stream of consciousness connected by the body as a female matures.

Amer is the debut feature of Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani. Although, easily confused as Italian given their obsession with the Giallo, French filmmakers who were primarily known for their shorts. Their debut feature has been described as extremely confident and ahead of their years. Deservedly so due to a clever strategy for making that leap to their first feature. Amer is split into three sections, which could be considered short films. The opening section takes place in a castle during our female protagonist's youth.

Essentially, she plays an elaborate game of hide and seek from her mother (Joe D'Amato's daughter, Bianca Maria D'Amato), repeatedly looking at her grandfather's dead body and being chased around by a woman dressed in black. A common shot is kept up throughout this section with POV close ups peering into door keyholes. In one scene, the girl watches her parents engaged in a moment of intercourse. You do not gots to be Sigmund fucking Freud to work out what's going on here. A reality and fantasy merge, the colours and lighting become increasingly exaggerated. The linking factor over this section is that the protagonist is watching and learning.

Next, in the subsequent section, our gaze switches. The female protagonist is no longer the watcher but the watched. Her adolescence is depicted in the changeover between the two sections. Shots of her abdomen and body reveal developments. This is when the ants began invading her body. Damn parasites! Rather amusingly, this entire section narratively speaking is just the girl and mother on a trip to the shops. Yet, these two filmmakers have so much going on to unpackage in truly inspiring fashion. The camera (the viewer) is watching the protagonist. Bikers are watching the protagonist. A child playing football is watching the protagonist. She is fully aware she is being watched and she plays up to her role as the exhibitionist too by drawing her attention to her body. Seductive sucking of hair strands being part of her game. My favourite part in this section is how these directors link the boy and girl through running. Images become blurred with the camera shaking more than a Paul Greengrass movie. Our attention then is drawn to the sound design, repeated panting and footsteps that become unavoidably erotic.

Finally, in our third section, with our protagonist fully aged, we get the climactic cat and mouse chase so common to the slasher/Giallo. But who's gaze is this from? At first we get this extremely claustrophobic overhead shot (often referred to as the God POV shot) on public transport. A sense of paranoia is generated with the close proximity of a woman with all these other people elbow to elbow.

In the next scene, our protagonist abandons public transport and favours a taxi ride. Her chauffer is a leather jacket and driving glove donning sleazeball of a man. She soon begins having near rape fantasies in which her dress rips, exposing her body in the back seat. Her desires contrasting with those held on public transport. She then spends some time relaxing in the bath, dragging a comb across her body simulating a knife attack. We've moved past tearing open clothes and on to skin.

All of a sudden, a real attacker shows up with a knife and proceeds to chase this female protagonist around a castle grounds. The location mirroring that of the first section, emphasising a cylindrical structure. There is so much poetry in the recurring compositions and elliptical editing causing the film to be watched and studied over and over. Countering the dull nature of Hollywood's creations that can be grasped in a single sitting. Was it Truffaut that once said something to the effect that films should have a final layer of mystery and never be too complete? It certainly keeps them open to analysis, consistent discussion and closer to life itself. As for the killer's identity, this an aspect not made clear. In my favourite shot from the entire film, the killer stands as an all black towering figure against a blue background. By the end, she stabs her intruder but in the following shot, we actually see our protagonist laid out in the morgue on a stretcher very much deceased.

Predator and prey has always been a common theme of the slasher. In Halloween, originally no-one knew the connection between Laurie and Michael. This was before they made the decision to unite them as brother and sister. An idea that caused frustration amongst the fans as it killed off the unexplainable mythical connection between them. All they knew was he keeps hunting her down with no apparent motive and like a terminator he will not stop. There has been great debate amongst scholars over the sexual nature of Halloween. Whether it represents a pro Regan conservative attitude to sex or is a parody of that. Carpenter himself believes that critics have often missed the point. At the end, the final girl is not this good natured virgin left standing but a sexually repressed woman who vents her frustration through penetrating the killer with a knife (a phallic object).

When it comes to slashers, a lot of the psychosexual aspects are shockingly evident if not existing as part of the filmmaker's subconscious. Feminists regularly debate over how much is purely accidental and how much the filmmaker discloses their subconscious through certain shot perspectives. The beauty of Amer is it takes all these questions that normally occur unintentionally and tackles it directly. Staging the arguments right before your very eyes. The cat and mouse becoming this ultimate battle between masculinity and femininity. Reality and imaginary.

Without revealing too much, the killers identity being hidden and the stabbing causing the protagonists death, reminded me of the twist in High Tension

Somehow, here it seems less dumb because of how open it still is and there being more meaning to the decisions made. It is far from cheap. In the final shots, we investigate the female protagonists dead body over a series of shots that sexualise her even in death. Almost alluding to Brakhage's The Act of Seeing with One's Own Eyes , an experimental short filming dead bodies as autopsies are performed on them. A very disturbing experience as it's basically a snuff film but also very clever and watchable for its existential qualities and ability to spin it back on to the viewer to confront their own morbid curiosities.

Spinning it back on to the viewer leads us in to the final shot of Amer. Just before the banging song from Stelvio Cipriani (also used in Tarantino's Death Proof and The Great Kidnapping) and the closing credits slip in, there is a brief moment, where the protagonist's eyes flicker as though they are about to open again. Thus, shifting their gaze potentially on to us and breaking the fourth wall. Are we somewhat responsible for the events that have taken place? We don't quite know as it's an inception style blink and you'll miss it moment. All this considered then, what is the entire picture getting at? Obviously it's very open and to say THIS is what's happening can lead to narrow paths and reductive statements. I'm also not going to pretend I have all this worked out. However, it seems as though we're getting multiple perspectives at each stage of a girl's maturation. From the watcher to the watched to an ambiguous one, perhaps a higher state of being similar to 2001 and Enter the Void

Another interesting element at play is the relationship between fantasy and reality throughout. We have the Freudian realisation of mother and father at the start. The lack of understanding about death. Then in the middle, she develops these fantasies and opens herself up to the world looking for a partner. At last, there is the realisation of the dream that becomes a nightmare she cannot handle. In this reality, there are no final girls just a meeting with the slab in the morgue? Are women just lambs for the slaughter in a production line? Or can you not count them out as she could well still be alive at the end ready to become something we've not seen before. Not Kubrick's super baby but the super final girl.

As I said, this is what we must keep revisiting the film for. It is literally perfect in how incomplete and mysterious it all is allowing for constant revisitation and re-evaluation. I'm surprised it isn't talked about more than it is because due to the set-up there's potential for so many different readings and critical avenues to go down. Perhaps the critics didn't understand a lot of its absurdly specific references to other Giallo films. Many shots mirroring the Italian classics and so you could take the stance that as part of the fantasy side she uses the history of the moving image to construct her own identity. That argument is certainly there.

As I hope to have illustrated, it is superb in both its formalist techniques and in substance. Calling it a shallow exercise would not be accurate. Although, I will accept that a lot of its substance does come through style. Only through analysis of compositions does its true nature reveal itself. Generally, Giallo films would experiment with psychedelia but these two filmmakers make it their entire agenda. Other filmmakers will think along the lines of opening a scene with a wide shot to establish geography (making the audience aware of everything's position in relation to one another), then go in to a 2 shot of the characters having a conversation and then do some simple cuts back and forth between the characters and their perspectives.

Giallo directors would every so often for one scene that's meant to be weird and unusual, play with that order. Cut to strange angle (perhaps a Dutch angle) or hold a shot longer than normal. Anything as long as it distorts the viewer for that key sequence.

When it comes to these two directors, they move beyond that in being so committed to this way of thinking for every single scene. These two constantly think, for example, how can we do this scene with say a minimum of 3 close ups. In the process, re-examining the language of cinema. Experimenting with the linguistics. Amer disposes of conventional scene geography establishment in favour of invading personal space (the bus sequence being a great example) and relating that to gender studies. As a woman, before you can centre yourself and work out your placement in life, you are seconds away from an unsolicited touch. You don't know when and you don't know why. But you are targeted.

We've moved passed the idea of a film has to have a beginning, middle and end but it doesn't have to be in that precise order. the task is now to establish whether a particular shot in a scene needs to become at the beginning, middle or end. As a postmodernism appreciator, I remain obsessed with seeing the image broken down to create new compositions and will continue to study the ways in which the image can be deconstructed until I am in my grave. Key to this is regularly going back to the beginning and seeing how the image is constructed in the first place. No way round it.

Amer is one example of this being used in horror. For action one see the Amer directors Let the Corpses Tan. A 90 minute Free Fire shootout set piece. They even put a clock on screen at regular intervals to illustrate when the sequences are taking place but ironically you still can't put it together with all the broken up shots. Elsewhere, Nicolas Winding Refn's Too Old to Die Young series features the greatest postmodern car chase I've ever seen in episode 5, The Fool. Refn one ups Drive by creating some superb Mad Max tension on the road, then unexpectedly he kills off his masterpiece by playing Barry Manilow's Mandy, slowing the chase right down and mocking Miami Vice by turning it all stylistically in to a music video. Never seen anything like it. May never see such a brave act of self-sabotage again. Who else would be crazy enough to do that? Keep up the good work, Son.

If you see that I keep logging Too Old to Die Young on Letterboxd, it is because I cannot stop studying that sequence. Over and over. What was that line in Peeping Tom about, "all this filming isn't healthy". It's now "all this deconstructing isn't healthy". The constructed Shandy alone isn't enough anymore. It's a thing of the past. We must persevere. Even if the obsession kills us. Whatever you take from these ramblings is completely optional. All you need to know is Kuleshov walked so Balthazar could run.

Bonus Points:

-Ghostface when he sees the ladder across the two windows, slapping his knife down in to the windowsil, stopping for a moment with a look in his body language that firmly said, "time for mischief" and then proceeding to rock it back and forth until someone fell to the ground

-Detective Bailey cracking me up with the line, "he was a strong, feral young man!"

Overall Score: 2/5

Concrete Jungle: Animals are After Me

"Where have all the good men gone", once asked Bonnie Tyler in her signature raspy voice. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. It is time for you to catch up on all things Bonehead Bill. This week we caught a limited re-release at the cinema with the return of Joe Massot's 1981 music documentary Dance Craze. First conceived when Massot met Madness on a US tour, which is why we have an American director taking on a British scene. We'll let him off though because he knows what it's all about. He had the idea to film a few of Madness's live performances but this soon developed in to following a few bands (namely The Specials, Bad Manners, The Bodysnatchers, The Selecter and The Beat) and trying to capture the mood of 2-Tone.

2-Tone was a popular genre that arrived between the late '70s and early '80s fusing together Jamaican music such as Ska, Rocksteady and Reggae with Punk and New Wave. Not sure who allowed this but it actually came out of Coventry. What else that place has to offer remains to be seen but maybe it doesn't even need to offer anything else because 2-Tone was that good. It's entire basis was to eradicate racism being perpetuated by Margaret Thatcher and her party of wrongens. We recently had the anniversary of the baroness's death (08/04), an occasion me and the boys celebrate by playing KC and the Sunshine Band's Give it Up at high volume, getting the beers in and screaming at the top of our lungs when the chorus hits, "Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na Maggie's in the mud, in the mud, Maggie's in the mud!". It's a tradition that I want to see continue well after my death. She's met her demise man, she's a pile of ash, she's not coming back and every single day life goes on after that is a party. The world is a much better place that I am happy to be a part of.

Racial tension was what 2-Tone was reacting to. Hence the name referring to the different skin tones uniting. What better way to achieve that than combining Jamaican music with the biggest trend in the UK at the at the time, which was Punk and New Wave. Effective too because the hybrid too is somehow both highly political and also one of the most likeable, relaxed and beautiful things ever created. You could easily have called this genre 'good times'.

We're dealing with the sound of people coming together to celebrate culture and all things good about music in what it has the power to do. I'd be seriously worried about anyone who didn't like this form of music. It's too genuine and pleasurable communicating it's message not by shouting but producing something so cheerful that anyone can be won over what it has to offer. It is not just the conversation on the topic but one of those rare moments where we found a solution, even if only temporary.

Oddly, even the racists came on board with the music. It didn't completely cure their hate but they were certainly some of its greatest admirers. Almost as strange a phenomenon as it coming out of Coventry but here you had these white supremacists championing a genre with its roots so clearly in black culture. Such a paradox is pretty much unexplainable but it has happened before. Comparable to Eton students loving The Jam's Eton Rifles, stock brokers who idolise Patrick Bateman or right wingers who listen to Rage Against the Machine. Previously, I thought it was because these people didn't understand the meaning of these things or missed the satire but having experienced it from the other side I've come to believe that isn't true. Often, I have preferred art which calls out my own beliefs and mocks them. Sometimes, more so than art which endorses my beliefs. I think we warm to mocking when it's so on the nose and so comedically agreeable that you can't deny it of its truth. This goes further than the phrase any publicity is good publicity and to a point where you do have the self-awareness to say yes this is imperfect, as has been demonstrated but even after all this considered, this is who I am. Who I choose to be.

Romper Stomper and Green Room have both explored that blurring of lines and potential for danger at music concerts when you place so many radically different people together. In This is England, that is the central conflict of the film, depicting how the racists toppled the entire movement from within. Shane Meadows takes you back to the beginning of what being a skinhead was all about and how people like Combo damaged that legacy.

In one of the strangest and most jarring scenes, he shares an intimate scene with Milky, a black man in the gang. They talk about their joint love for music but then Combo's psychopathic nature is revealed and he ends up needlessly throwing out racial slurs and beating Milky to within an inch of his life. Meadows suggests that this racism is an inherent issue, generationally handed down and comes down to a poor relationship with the father.

On a non-fictional level, there is also the Rolling Stones's documentary Gimme Shelter that observes first-hand the violence which can arise when people on different ends of the political spectrum meet at musical events. Stones hired numerous members of Hell's Angels to serve as the security and one of these guys would go on to stab a crowd member. Multiple times throughout Mick Jagger has to stop the music to ask crowd members to stop fighting, making for an extremely surreal event. Nothing kicks off during Massot's film but he also was very conscious of the potential for this problem and forced himself to go back through the footage and ensure there wasn't a single fascist salute or nazi imagery in the background. Any evidence of these things would have destroyed the entire aim of the picture and its utter feel good factor. Thankfully, the music marches on and becomes what I now believe is the greatest musical documentary ever captured on celluloid.

The musical documentary is something I have spent the last couple of years studying closely. They are an art in themselves. Of course, quality of music plays a factor but is far from the most essential element. For example, The Beatles two most famous gigs At Shea Stadium and The Rooftop Concert are far from the strongest musically speaking, they were after all a studio band, maybe even the studio band but these have massive cultural significance as a document. Firstly, Shea Stadium was the first concert with a crowd of that magnitude (Over 55,000) and proved rock could sell out these kinds of arenas. Changing the nature of the live performance. However, Shea Stadium sounded so poor with constant girls screaming and terrible technological equipment that it influenced The Beatles to give up touring and pretty much live in the studio going forwards. Only thing more historically important missing from the Shea Stadium gig is one of the most significant moments of the 20th century taking place just seconds afterwards.

We see these cars pick up The Beatles and take them away from the crowd and out the stadium. Where the camera really should have been is in the cars, where John Lennon was supposedly furious and ranting about the Beatlemania overshadowing the performance because their sound systems at the time were not good enough. Consequently, they made the big decision to stop touring there and then. They retired the suits seen in Ron Howard's Eight Days a Week, stopped being these tightly controlled media friendly puppets and entered their most creative spell. Whether you like The Beatles or not, any music fan should be grateful for how they were the first to pioneer a relationship with the studio and focus on the music at that level of innovation rather than the performance aspect. Whilst their live performances are a weaker aspect of their game, their musical documentaries historical significance is huge.

In a completely neutral sense, the work of Pennebaker, Robert Drew and Maysles and their contributions to 'Direct Cinema' are among the most influential. These creative independent filmmakers redefined the film set and stripped away its heaviest parts in favour of transportability and free movement. Essentially, the goal being too show up quickly and move around spaces with total ease. Therefore, hand-held cameras and synchronous sound becoming extremely popular. Firstly, it was synonymous with political documentaries following JFK around the White House in the early '60s. They didn't take along to set up, they could move around the building freely and if needs be jump over to another location for a talk quickly. All part of JFK's hip appeal to be part of this new art form and recognise its influence it could have on the masses.

Next, it would pop up in Don't Look Back, which turns its attention to Bob Dylan. This was the perfect style to embody him as an artist repeatedly evolving before your eyes. Constantly moving around, changing and challenging his critics. Using a tri-pod and stationary shot wouldn't capture these qualities that made Dylan brilliant. Scorsese would later be attracted to Dylan for two reasons. Firstly, to edit this into a typically ferocious montage. Secondly, on a more humorous note because he was drawn to the image of Dylan being a Judas figure after his abandonment of acoustic in favour of the electric guitar.

Don't Look Back mainly uses Direct Cinema for interviews, for the full live performance experience, one should check out Monterey Pop and Woodstock. These films perfectly demonstrated the marriage of film and music, allowing the music documentary to be a site where young talent from two different art forms could emerge. Before Martin Scorsese was famous he even worked on Woodstock as an additional director and editor but was sacked by Wadleigh for taking too long and trying to be too fancy in the studio. Scorsese's long time editor, Thelma Schoonmaker, also worked on the project as well as several other artists familiar as part of that eras New York arts scene. Musically, Monterey Pop was the first time the public saw many of these artists and if it wasn't for these they would be nowhere near as successful. For example, this was the gig that Jimi Hendrix was revealed to the world by playing as if possessed and then burning his guitar on stage.

So yes, the music documentary is about historical significance and technical innovation. It is also about the relationship between filmmaker and subject. Dylan's interviews linking to this. Recently, I saw In the Court of the Crimson King: King Crimson at 50, which as you may of guessed shines a light on King Crimson. A band I am unable to decide whether I like or not but this as I have discovered appears to be part of the overall experience that even their fans acknowledge. Bound to happen with so many line-up changes. They have a sound which is barely recognisable as the same band from album to album. Their 1969 debut In the Court of the Crimson King is viewed as their magnum opus but I'm not even sure whether I'd fully include myself as a fan. It opens with 21st Century Schizoid Man, something of a banger but bettered by Kanye West on Power. After this, the album deviates in to experimental jazz that for me does not compare to Miles Davis or Ornette Coleman. However, I do rate some of the detours in to a kind of proto-ambient territory that precedes frontman Fripp's later work that does intrigue me with Brian Eno.

I would have probably wrote off King Crimson if it wasn't for me being shown their '80s afrobeat inspired output, I'd have probably written them off. Discipline definitely arises from a lot of time spent with Talking Heads and Elephant Talk is a bit of a banger.

In more recent times, the near stoner metal sounding Red from 1974 has become my go to album for all things King Crimson. I credit Mandy for me giving this another chance and noticing the absolute perfection of a track like Starless. Got that on during a walk in the Peak District a few years back and the Bowie like epicness of it complemented the visuals I saw before me excellently. The weird part is I may fully go back to In the Court of the Crimson King one day and call that a masterpiece. It's not out the question. That's all part of listening to King Crimson. It puts me off and draws me to them in that I cannot work out whether they're good.

Crimson at 50 gets right in there with that conflict. Conflict in the act of listening to a sound so jarringly different album to album and the conflict between its band members. Unflinchingly, excommunicated band members share their frustrations at working with frontman Fripp. Those still in the band are extremely mindful of what they say, constantly glancing over their shoulder to see if their lord and master is watching. Even the director reveals he is fearful of being sacked at any moment. On this set, you're never too far away from receiving hair dryer treatment so heavy it hasn't been seen since the reign of Sir Alex Ferguson. Fripp's got them all on the strings. He's living rent free in the heads of band members going all the way back to 1969. What a cunt. What an artist. It's sort of like a real life This is Spinal Tap, you've never seen a gonzo experiment quite like it. Now that's a great relationship between filmmaker and subject that comes from the musical documentary. Although I'm yet to see it, I hear Werner Herzog's documentary on The Killer's is meant to express little love and absolutely no interest or admiration for the band, which sounds hilarious. The way a director positions the material is vital in this genre.

How far a music documentary catches a political movement or scene is often used as a measure of their success. Direct Cinema has its roots in politics and Woodstock is an exhausting look at the hippie movement. Exhausting being the perfect word with all its positives and negatives similar to a word like sprawling. Its breath-taking cinema but you also have to spend over 3 hours with a bunch of smelly hippies.

As discussed at the start, Dance Craze certainly nails the politics of 2-Tone. When it comes to this side of the music documentary, Godard's Sympathy for the Devil amuses me greatly. He basically exploited the star power of the Rolling Stones to go off on a tangent in to a rant on Maoism. Also, how is it Rolling Stones were repeatedly brought in to these political conflicts so accidentally? Were they like some Forrest Gump just wandering in to all these different arenas? Were they just so desperate to be part of something or were they just so big that they could be connected everything? Who knows what that's about.

Spectacle and showmanship is a necessity in the musical documentary. Depeche Mode, have always been concerned about their overall aesthetic and look. Their name literally translates to 'fashion dispatch' and are famous for having their own band photographer in Anton Corbijn. In terms of staging and outfits, Devotional Tour is an absolute classic. Pennebaker even worked with them on Depeche Mode 101, a conceptually strong piece placing a rare greater emphasis on fandom. The bus kids segments predate the rise in popularity of reality television. Industrial heads

Nine Inch Nails and Rammstein have been the best at tapping in to spectacle from a controversial standpoint. Nine Inch Nails initial introduction to the mainstream came as a result of them covering themselves from head to toe in mud for shock value. Rammstein spend more than anyone on pyrotechnics. Their Paris gig directed by Jonas Akerlund, who's projects vary from Lords of Chaos and Spun to Beyonce's Lemonade, features simulated sex acts such as walking around on stage with gimps attached to chains and performing mock fellatio.

Some will try to mention Beyonce in all this who is probably the most popular and overrated artist who supposedly experiments with the live performance. She has that modern fake beautiful and utterly shallow look that has become popular with music videos today. Where every shot is made to look pretty with no consideration of a shots meaning. A playlist or slideshow of random good looking images. There is only so far that beauty can go, especially when it doesn't latch on to where culture is going. Truthfully, I think she just watches Lion King too much.

For his comeback show in '68, Elvis gave us his greatest work. Its director Steve Binder does such a fantastic job it almost makes up for the cinematic crime of The Star Wars Holiday Special. If I recall correctly from my days in college studying theatre The '68 Comeback Special is shot in the round. Meaning crowds on all sides. Always a brave move because if you set-up in this way you have to act to all sides and be aware when your back is turned on some members of the audience. However, Elvis plays up to that at times giving a one man tour de force, just sitting bang in the middle in a full black leather outfit and doing his thing. He's sexy, he's cocky. That's a man made for the round.

In addition, Jonathan Demme's Stop Making Sense has some of that egotistical bullshit that really works as part of the appeal. For its opening number, another overcontrolling frontman David Byrne steps out on to the stage by himself with just an acoustic guitar and a boombox. He informs us he has a tape he wants to play and goes in to this really raw rendition of Psycho Killer that sounds indebted to early Hip Hop. Now the beauty of that show is that with each number more band members join them and the set design grows increasingly complex. From a rough backstage look to cinematically pleasing and more developed backdrops. There is also David Byrne's quirkiness emphasised through that fucking giant suit. A surreal and distorted sight gag of a big suit and small head.

I'm aware that the quality of the music and the performance of the band itself is important to a music documentaries success. However, I leave this to someone with a greater understanding of sound and music theory than myself to undertake in that direction. I would not be able to do the subject justice. So sadly, I'll have to leave out the brilliance of Bruce Springsteen's intimacy with his audiences for those with more capable hands. My main intention here has been to go over the film side that is separate and unbiased to the music.

With all this said, up until now Stop Making Sense has been my favourite music documentary. Purely for its imaginative approach to the concept of creation with the sets and the band building itself with each number. On top of that, the wordless beauty of the band all stood intimately under that lamp shade, swinging it from side to side and singing This Must be the Place. An act of lunacy. An act of life.

Consider yourself dethroned Stop Making Sense, there's a new king in town and it's called Dance Craze. I had the best time of my life watching this music documentary. The event is kicked off with a parody of 50s and 60s juvenile delinquent movies when it seemed as though the teenager was invented. So we get this older narrator, who's voice you may recognise (they brought the guy who did all those kinds of news reports to come back and do this), trying to understand the post-war generation and this emergence of a new market. Massot's message is that we've had those two decades and this is the new thing but once again it does come from the youth.

Half way through the film this narrator does come back to break up the live performances. They return to the invention of all the different dances. As you'd expect, when the twist rocked up, Mr J M Kelly got rather excited. Do I need to mention again that I am a twist man. I'll be doing the twist at my funeral like I'm Chubby Checker. Massot stated that the reason for the inclusion of this segment at the middle was because he believed the performances were so high energy that the audiences needed a break. He's not wrong. Honestly, it matches that level you've seen in Stop Making Sense. When asked why this music is infectiously energetic, the artists have pointed to craftmanship of the drummers.

The Specials are the first band to kick off this wonderful event. Terry Hall does his trademark lingering. Even when he's not singing he loiters in the frame an ever evil, untrustworthy and menacing presence. I believe it's in the eyes, has the detached look of that guy from Gaspar Noe's Enter the Void. They could be related those two. The Specials opening number is Nite Klub. Just about the best take on the emptiness of the club scene I've heard since Soft Cell's Bedsitter. Ever relatable, Hall asks, "is this the place to be? What am I doing here?". His comedic side revealed when he says, "I won't dance in a club like this, all the girls are slags and the beer tastes like piss". A line that produces a cackle of laughter from Bonehead Bill. He whispers into my ear after, "not often these days you hear a hard 'slags' just thrown in there for good measure".

The next frontman to leave an impression was Bad Manner's Buster Bloodvessel. A massively overweight bald fellow who jumps on stage and introduces their first number by saying, "the next song you might have heard before. It's called...", and then he takes a genius well timed pause before screaming "NeNe-Na-Na-Na-Na-Nu-Nu". Now, that’s what we praise at Funeralopolis. Pure silliness and utter gibberish. An inspired act of madness. One that recalls the best part of Woodstock when The Sha Na Na's jog on stage one by one in silly outfits and near conga formation and sing At the Hop. Later, Mr Bloodvessel makes his presence known again by doing this weird shit with his tongue to the beat. A rather disgusting action that he refused to stop doing and he is famous for. Everybody in attendance at the cinema was totally repulsed by the action and wanted it to stop. Bonehead Bill tried to recreate this tongue action but I told him any more of this and I would have to punch him in the face.

I have never seen musicians looking as though they're having as much fun as they do in Dance Craze. Just dudes wrestling on stage, cracking open cans, playing saxophones and throwing shapes. Formally, the shooting style mirrors that hangout free flowing nature too. A general rule of thumb (which I don't like) of music documentaries is that they are shot off the stage and from the perspective of the crowd from about row three. Similar to how boxing movies annoyingly (apart from Raging Bull) don't like to shoot inside the ring. In doing so they recreate some of the experience of what it would be like to be in that crowd but you lose a lot of cinematic potential by not changing viewpoints and thinking about the camera and home audience.

Dance Craze stands out from the crowd because it shoots everything on the stage with the band. Occasionally in a set that can happen once or twice. However, nobody has had the skill that the filmmakers here possess. They hold steadicams on their shoulders and move in time to the music, rocking back and forth to the beat. You are on stage with the band, taking it all in and dancing with them. That's where it's all happening. How anyone can hold those cameras and move to a beat at the same time is beyond my own comprehension. Shit, I can't even stay in time. It's insane.

Generally 16mm (blown up to 35mm) was seen as the standard for music documentaries. Until, you could probably guess this but Scorsese went and questioned why not cinematic 35mm? So he went away and made The Last Waltz. Dance Craze follows suit here and goes for 35mm, which can then be blown up to 70mm without any of the image quality being lost in the process. Long lenses are used such as 300mm and even 600mm. Joe Dunton who shot Dance Craze was a lens obsessed freak. Known for his work with Stanley Kubrick on Eyes Wide Shut. Given that Kubrick was one of cinemas most lens oriented filmmakers and all the technical details here, you end up with the most beautiful and cinematic gig ever conceived. A cover of Wooly Bully (used in Full Metal Jacket) even appears.

Both a film of technical innovation and cultural significance. Whatever it is you care about I'm sure you'll find it in Dance Craze. Get lost in Concrete Jungle's imagery of being chased by the national front and fearing knife attacks in the streets. Madness give a bizarre rendition of Swan Lake to appease the "classical music lovers". How kind of them. They save the biggest two hits for last with The Beat's Mirror in the Bathroom and Madness's One Step Beyond

Before I forget, there is a guy in the crowd stood in his The Beat t-shirt with the biggest Balthazar Marie energy you've ever seen. All in the teeth and elbow movements. Unsure as to whether they look alike or if it's all in the movements and the energy. But that's Balthazar Marie.

One Step Beyond comes on and I'm bopping side to side, caught in the groove, unable to keep still even if I wanted to. I look around for Bonehead Bill, who went the toilet around the time The Selector were doing Too Much Pressure

He was missing all the best parts! I look down and there's Bonehead Bill skanking in the space between the front row and cinema screen. I lock eyes with him and he comes up the aisles shuffling like a mad man. Finally, Nite Klub is performed again as a reprise and everyone in the films audience gets on the stage to sing it with them. Unphased by the numerous people on stage, Terry Hall continues to linger on the stage. What a way to go out.

Slipping out The Light Cinema, Bonehead informs me, "it's happening tonight, you know that thing we talked about up in the peaks. It's happening tonight" "No. No. No", I beg over and over trying to talk him out of it. I'd agreed to do something I shouldn’t have agreed to. Again. Purely on the basis, I didn't expect it to happen and was half joking when the agreement was made. You know the drill, right? About a couple of days ago, I'd made some off-hand remark about how Sheffield was the Dogging Capital of the World. Ever since, Bonehead hasn't stopped talking about this and wanting to know more. I told him there was a website and no I had not used it.

"How can we call ourselves residents of the City of Sex and Steel if we haven't gone dogging in the arse end of nowhere?", asks Bonehead. A legitimate question that there was no answer to. Caving in, I told him, "Fine, if you set this up and get us these women to dog, I'm in". "Don't worry about Bonehead, Bonehead will get the broads in", answered this disreputable fellow I call my friend. "Bonehead, I don't think you can say that anymore", I corrected him. He laughed knowingly, refusing to back down, retorted, "fuck the Concrete Jungle" and then spat on the ground.

Would you have expected him to come through on this? Never make promises with this guy cause sometimes he does the unthinkable and comes through like when you task John Wick with the impossible. He simply finds a way. One thing you need to know about Jacob Kelly is that when he says he will do something, he will do it (albeit with a little convincing). The convincing took place in a pub named The Scotsman's Pack. An old school cosy boozer in Hathersage. A place of ancient secrets about 10 miles outside of Sheffield. Climbers will know Stanage Edge which sits in the distance and my horror guys will know it from The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue. Mainly shot in the Lake District but uses St. Michael's Church down in Hathersage. The final resting place of Robin Hood's right hand man, Little John. Last time I'd been up in Hathersage, Ricardo Carvalho and I reported to Little John's grave at precisely 12:01 after pint 9 and poured a few cans out for the fallen brother. Promise me, if you ever find yourself up there you shall do the same. Got to honour the fallen brothers when you get the chance! Also, watch The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue because it's great.

It took me about 6 pints to work up to it. "Right, walk me through your plan and it better be good otherwise I walk. Actually not because it's pretty far but you know what I mean", I say, giving my partner The Bourne Ultimatum. "First of all, Kelly, I'm glad you're with me to share this special experience. Truthfully, I don't think anyone else would have come with me. So for that I thank you", shares Bonehead, locking his fingers as if ready to go in to delivering a PowerPoint presentation he's worked hours on. "Yes, I'm sleazy. And I love women. I get it. But can you get on with it. We haven't got all night", I demand. "Ok. So you may have noticed I stopped off at mine on the way here to pick up these", he adds slapping a humongous rucksack, a large elephant in the room that I was going to address soon if he didn't. "Well, in these are a tent and a couple of sleeping bags. Me and you are gonna hike up to the hills to some GPS coordinates that I have saved on my phone. When we reach our destination, there will hopefully be 2 broads waiting for us", Bonehead continues. I was amazed he knew what GPS was. How had he fixed this? Had this been too great a power to bestow to one man? What would Peter Parker say about this?

Unsure what to say, all I could do was nod and prey the unknown forces of the galaxy would pull both ourselves and two attractive women who wanted to have sex with us to the same spot at the same time. Was that too much to ask for? "Goes without saying that I get first pick, considering I set this whole operation up", Bonehead clarifies. This receives another nod from me. Them the rules. "That's if they're there. And that's a big if. But yes, if they're there, you get first pick", I agree. He shakes his head and says, "Kelly, you not been listening to me. When Bonehead says he's gonna get the broads in, he's gonna get the broads in, alright?". He was clearly full of confidence. Admittedly, I had little faith but it was a case of there was nothing better to do that evening. At worst, we'd just end up having a few beers with a scenic backdrop. Not the end of the world, is it?

"So, who are these...Mädchens anyway?", I query. "They wanted to remain anonymous. Been speaking with one of them the last couple of weeks trying to set this up though. They seem cool. Just a couple of mates looking to get laid without the hassle of relationships or intense grafting, ok?", Bonehead responds.

"What are they going to be like?", I question further. "As I said, like us, brother. Just a couple of bints. Wanting to get laid. It's not that complicated", Bonehead simplifies. "Surely, this has to be complicated. A couple of women want to meet up with us and fuck us. In the woods", I counter. Silence strikes between us. Bonehead straightens up, folds his arms and leans back shaking his head, as if to say, "Kelly, I expected better from you".

We journey in to the land of timber. Every tree stands to attention like a giant cock fucking the sky. Animals scurry all around us nibbling in to tiny pieces of captured prey. This is their playground. And we are only guests. We must be mindful at all times. Any respect shown must be returned tenfold. As we walk, my mind wonders to our female counterparts. What sort of disturbed degenerates would agree to meet some people they didn't know and fuck in the peaks 10 miles out of town? No way these Mädchens were mentally stable. "No way", I mumble to myself. Possibly I spoke these words aloud because Bonehead turns to me with a confused look on his face before darting forwards again to glide past the endless erections. Were we really getting laid tonight?

Bonehead stops for a second, before offering me a tab. Normally, I'd have said this was not a good idea given the infinite number of things that could go wrong from this. But we were a few drinks in and at this point I'd have probably said yes to just about anything. So I put that fucker on my tongue and let it settle. My stomach instantly regrets it and wreaks its revenge. It'll pass. It'll pass. It usually does. Ignoring the urge to scatter gallons of goo across the woods like a Sam Raimi movie, I proceed forwards. there was no turning back now.

After what felt like miles, Bonehead gives a sharp whistle and points over to two towering figures dressed in long black puffa coats that would have made even Arsene Wenger flinch. Damn these dames came prepared. It felt like 20 below out there. Not that I had any idea what 20 below was like. But respect where it was due. These were undeniably true survivalists, we couldn't take that away from them.

Could they fuck though? That was the real question. Who cares. If all goes wrong, we can just marry them. They're clearly very resourceful. You don't see that much of that breed around nowadays. So when it's there you have to snap it up and say, "Girl, you are my inamorata" and seal the deal with your finest silver.

Did the potential presence of women rob us of our senses? Our horniness leads us to our downfall. Those long black puffa coats put an extra spring in our step. We looked up when we should have looked down. Across two nearby trees was a thin rope and we both tripped right over it like fools. We tumble to the ground like Jack Grealish in the penalty box. As we lay on our backs, the bottom of those long black puffa coats fly across the night. A slow screeching sound fills our ears as the zips go down and the long black puffa coats fall to the ground. Our counterparts carry a baseball bat under each arm. So that's why the Arsene Wenger attire. Our eyes continue upwards until we reach their faces. We were looking straight at The Pseuds. This was their trap and we walked straight in to it impervious to the danger and blinded by our salacious appetites. "Fuck", I exclaimed, definitely aloud that time.

"You have got to be the most stupidest cunts I've ever seen", mocked one of The Pseuds. "You forgot horny", weighs in Bonehead. The other Pseud said, "shut it, Big Head". It was getting hard to tell who was who. Around this time the tab was kicking in and I could hear their voices but their faces became blurred. Instead of seeing the faces of The Pseuds, I was looking up at the faces of Keith Carradine and William Baldwin over their bodies. "Get up, both of you get up!", shouts Keith. "Alright, alright. The joints are stiff", I protest. Baldwin pushes his baseball bat in to my back to show he's not fucking around. I got the message. They march us out of there in to the barrens and walk us like dogs.

"You just wouldn't leave us alone. Now look where we are. I can read you like a book", states Keith as he looks in to my eyes. "You're thinking how far are they going to go with this? Is he really going to use that baseball bat or is it just for show? Truth is I'm gonna kill you. Think about it. Why would we bring you all the way out here. Who else knows you're out here? Not exactly something you televise dogging, is it? Plenty of spots for burial in the peaks", says Keith.

He feeds off my silence and hollers in to barrels of laughter that go on for an eternity. "Or maybe I'm just saying all this to fuck with you?", doubles up Keith. "Well you should have brought a fucking spade shouldn't you, shit stain", I provoke. Keith's turn to face the silence. I spare him the ceaseless laughter.

Our counterparts back to the edge of a cliff. Baldwin takes a look over the drop, then towards us and winks. "Alright Babe Ruth, you're up first", says Baldwin as he steps aside to give Keith some room. Keith takes the opportunity to limber up and make the build-up as dramatic as possible. Slow, painful mind games a la Emiliano Martinez. Bonehead whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do". Instinctively I say, "ok" and before I can fully register the comment and finish saying, "wait, what are you going to do?", Bonehead screams, "Me voy a casa!" And spears me off the cliff. He went right, I went left. Rolling down the hill like a couple of tumbleweeds caught in the wind. Flashback to childhood when we used to go sledging as kids up by Andy McClusky's house. When they called me the eskimodo cause of all the snow that would gather on my hunchback. Head hits a rock. End of memory. 8.15, that's the time it's always been.

When I awake, a couple of goons in suits and fedoras have me propped up and are directing me towards a car. "Come on Petey Snickett, boss wants to see ya", one of them tells me as though reciting some awful lines from Guy Ritchie's next gangster movie. "Jesus. You look just about ready to get in a Chicago overcoat. You gotta watch yourself, Petey. They say we got us a heatwave. It's not normally so hot out here. Hell, the Lake Michigan winds usually keep everything cool", mentions goon number two. I let out a, "what?". "The almighty Hawk", returns the first goon. "What?", I say again. "The Hawk not only socks it to you, he socks it through you like a giant razor blade blowing down the street". Before I can make any sense of this, I am dumped on to the back seat of a 1928 black Cadillac. Goon number one throws in a handkerchief for me to clear the sweat off my face. "Where we going?", I ask. "See the boss. He wants to talk to you. So get yourself cleaned up and looking sharp", revealed goon number two and stepped on the gas.

Shiny floors mean tapping toes. Three pairs all go tap tap tap in to "The Boss's office". Some Bob Hoskins looking motherfucker greets me and offer me a drink of my choice. I help myself to a Brown Derby from the mini bar to my right. "Ok Jacky, what's the score?", I ask the boss. He tucks in to a slice of chocolate cake and tells me he has a job for me. My new role will be to burn files all day and all night in the basement. He was very adamant that these files never see the light of day. In fact, he was so persuasive, I think I'll have to do it. And so for the next 6 months that's exactly what I did.

Back in Derbyshire in the year 2023, Bonehead Bill was reaching the peak of his trip as he ran around in circles looking for a way out and back to the Sandero. He'd occupied his time so far by building trenches, carving arrow heads and fighting off what he believed to be the local marine reserves but I'm sure was really just a pile of rocks. To deal with the cold winds, he had chopped up one of his sleeping bags and turned it in to a coat. He was trying to master living off the land in the meantime, for who knew when he might return to civilisation? However, he didn't have a clue what was food and what was death. He was not yet a man of the woods. But he hoped he one day would be.

In the distance, Bonehead hears a whimpering dog squealing. Far from threatening. It actually left Bonehead worried for the animal. My guys a real animal lover so this incident really disturbed him. He got in closer to check out the situation. A poor dog was being kicked by an angry farmer who had a rifle pointing at his head. Bonehead was in two minds whether to ignore this or step in and take on a moody shotgun wielding farmer. He couldn't let it go. Luckily, before he could prevent this execution, the farmer changed his mind and instead whipped the dog with the barrel as he cried out, "Get going! And don't ever come back here again you useless bastard". The farmer turns away and the dog runs off right to the heels of Bonehead Bill. Unsure what to do, he strokes the dog and shows it some much needed love. Then, he continues on with his journey to find the car. Unexpectedly, the dog refuses to leave his side. He wanted to say, "Go on now, I can't help you", but he didn't have it in him so they bandied together as man and dog. Dr Doolittle had a new friend.

When his feet started to ache and the rain came down, a dejected Bonehead began to think about shelter. He'd lost his tent during the fall but he still had the sleeping bags. As luck would have it, there was a random unattended hut in the distance filled with straw. He made himself and his new companion a straw bed. The dog came in close, as though it hadn't been shown any love in a long time and he continued to stroke man's best friend. It was now that he noticed all the dogs imperfections. There were cuts and scratches all over its body and it walked with a limp. It was a dog without a tail, having clearly been chopped off. How could they treat a creature this way?

Bonehead wiped a tear from his own eye and said over and over, "You're not useless"

Holding him tight and looking at the rain slamming to the ground relentlessly outside, Bonehead began to sing, "Blue shadows on the trail. Little cowboy, close your eyes and dream. All of them doggies are in the corral. All of your work is done. Just close your eyes and dream little pal. Dream of someone. Blue shadows on the trail. Soft wind blowing through the trees above. All the other little cowboys back in the bunkhouse now, so close your eyes and dream". They both fell in to a peaceful sleep. Hours later, when he awoke the rain had stopped and the sun was shining down on his face but the dog was nowhere to be seen.

The basement was filled with stacks and stacks of papers. My sole job was to dump them on to a trolly and then in to fire. Looking around it would probably take centuries to take care of everything in this room. The pay wasn't all that good but my accommodation on floor three was part of the package. Of course, I couldn't help but read some of the documents to help pass the time. Many were dull accounting pages that would definitely land these guys behind bars. These didn't interest me. What did interest me was all the mountains of transcripts. Like Richard Nixon, the boss recorded all of his conversations. After 6 months of burning, I was nearly up to date on about 3 decades worth of mafia history. Eventually, I noticed a regular pattern across this span, which was a hidden snitch named Bartleby Wiggins.

I brought this to the attention of the boss. He was a little mad at first that I'd been reading the files down in the basement ("I pay you to burn the pages, not to turn the pages") but when he realised the damage Bartleby had done, he informed me this pigeon stool would be introduced to his "new Chicago typewriter". He tells me it types "very fast". Following the "sacking", I'm called in to the bosses office once more. This time he pours me a Brown Derby himself. "You know what you've done? What you've done for this family? I'm on to you. I should have seen through you straight away. You're not Petey Snickett. You were just pretending to be. No. I know who you really are. You're Mr Baker. Nice to meet you, Mr Baker", says the boss as he enthusiastically shakes my hand to the point of near yanking it off.

He promotes me by making me the caretaker of his sleaziest nightclub The Gangplank in St. Petersburg, Florida. This was to be completely run by myself as the boss was too busy losing money here in Chicago with all the steel strikes. He was sending out guys all over town to bust unions. All kinds of violent tactics were used but the numbers were too great. The boss had a lot of men but he didn't have 22,000.

Well, The Gangplank was the den of the underworld. A very risqué and swell joint. Placed strategically right by the dock so the booze would come right off the boat and in the back before anyone knew it was even there. I'll let you work out what two things the name of the place was a play on. Drinks were served in tea cups but nobody ever drank tea in The Gangplank. They built it directly over an Indian burial ground like an '80s horror movie. Their sprits dance at night to the music. A meal typically cost $2.50 but nobody really ate the food, they just drank whiskey and lots of it.

Some interesting characters would congregate there. People who would sit in booths all night listening to jazz records, drinking whiskey and talking about how much they hated Hoover. It was always, "Me and Falco were running a job down at The Grosvenor and then someone must have tipped the bulls off cause fucking Hoover's boys show up at the door before anyone but us knew what was going down" and "I fucking hate that Hoover"

I'll spare you the details but there were also many homophobic slurs directed at the law man and several references made to putting his protégé Clyde Tolson in certain physical positions on Hoover's office desk at the Department of Justice building. Occasionally, they would be distracted by a dancer on stage and pause their elaborate discussions on Hoover's sexuality.

Paige Harrison was the star of the show. Pulling out every dance move known to man soundtracked by Benny Goodman's Sing Sing Sing. She lived a very quiet life outside The Gangplank, respectably trying to raise her 12 year old child but every night during business hours she was the talk of the town. One night her dress strap ripped revealing nothing underneath and the place erupted. Took us about a year or two but soon we were pulling in quite a crowd. So I bumped up the price of the table for four package to $100 for special events. Good weeks, we were pulling in about 6 grand. We were making so much money, I started paying some guys $50 a day just to lay the terrazzo floors. But it didn't matter, Earl Gresh kept singing Row, Row, Rosie and the profits were row, row rolling in, which kept the boss back home happy. Safe to say, I adapted to life in sunny Florida pretty quickly.

After a while, I noticed The Gangplank wasn't really one club but two clubs. One floor was for the mob and the other was for the social elite. Both would glance across at each other's opposite number when their paths would cross in the halls with a look of envy as though they wanted what they weren't. The mob wanted respectability and the social elite wanted danger. So I fixed that right up when I got the crazy idea to do away with the two floors and unite them. Mobsters, politicians and the wealthy all sat together now sharing secrets and I got rich. If you could to begin with, there was now no chance of telling them apart. Everything operated on the same plane now. It wasn't an underworld on a separate reality, it was interwoven in to what the decent people called society. Truly organised crime. As long as that meant money, it didn't matter to the boss. If anything it made it easier for them to hide like this in the open and they had so much dirt on those crooked politicians that frequented the place. If the mob were going down, the politicians were coming straight with them like mould on a wall.

It was best for all that business continue as normal. The boss was so happy he called me in to his office again and poured me another Brown Derby. I was going to bed with a different dame every night of the week. Began affecting my work as it coincidentally grew sloppier by the day. It became harder and harder, especially when I was knocking in about 14 Brown Derbys a day. Normally starting from around 11 in the morning. Got so bad I had to start taking amphetamines just stay on my own two feet. Wasn't long before I got addicted to that stuff. My two floors I united into a whole became a single site of chaos that was near unmanageable. I kept a brass knuckle in my pocket. They called me The Iron Fist. Ruler of my kingdom.

This did not make the boss happy. He no longer served me Brown Derbys on arrival and I was let off with a few warnings. But these were ruthless times, what did they expect me to do? Many begin to ask questions about me. How was it a man with a most peculiar accent had gotten such a high profile gig such as this working under the boss? Who was this Mr Baker? I didn't even know who Mr Baker was but I continued to work under this alias and take his perks. I was becoming so popular I even warranted a visit from Hoover himself and his lap dog Melvin Purvis. They wanted me to turn snitch, I told them where to go. Hoover reminded me, "everybody gets pinched in the end". Had to be extra careful after that because his G Men had it in for me.

One night this girl comes in to the joint called Melanie. A Cuban immigrant who came over to escape Colonel Batista after the Sergeants Revolt in '33. She complains extensively about the economic situation in her country. All I can do is stare in to her emerald eyes. Right away, I knew that was my para sempre. We spent our nights at the club and our days on Clearwater beach listening to Chick Webb records. About 3 months later, we were married. We had the honeymoon over in The Bahamas. I promised to kick the amphetamine habit and sticking to my guns went about 2 years drug free. To celebrate one night we went to cinema. They had a movie on called Man Made Monster, about a crazy scientist who zaps a man full of electricity and makes him do jobs for him. It wasn't one of Universals best monster movies but it really struck with me. You replace electricity with Brown Derbys and you had my own predicament. Did I need to get out of this life? Maybe it was time to think about children.

On my way out the cinema, a one eyed dwarf is stood in the aisle. He asks me for some milk. I tell to ask his mother. Walking down the back alley, my thoughts turn back to the screen. The screen. There must always be the screen. It must always be filled. Otherwise we can only stare in to the void. The truth must be concealed. No technical hitches. No slips. Protect the presenter. The show must go on. Even in his lordship's absence.

My girl asks me what I thought of the film. I saw a film today, oh boy. I held her close and whispered in her ear, "the cinema was mediocre, now I just want to take ya back to the crib so I can stroke ya". All old Ernest Baker wanted to do is watch a decent movie then go back home with his girl. Everybody deserves that, right? Little did I know this woman had betrayed me. One final kiss to seal the deal. Before turning off the Baker's brain. Hoover beat it out of her. Not with his fists but with the threat of deportation. The usual dirty tricks from Hoover and Co. He may have been a bastard but he was right when he said they get you in the end. If it isn't him its flower nonce's agency. Your only choice is the cuffs or the coffin. A spray of bullets greets me. The warmest loudest reception I ever received. I went down slowly taking my final bow.

I could already see the news headlines. "The baker gets shut down. Why? Because he wasn't making enough dough". Hoover has the last laugh. Clipping his high heels together as his victory dance. I'd give anything to wipe that little smirk off his face just once. Covered in blood from head to toe, I raise up my head and ask, "So, is this where it is?". And Melvin Purvis points to me and says, "It's his". And I say, "What's mine?" And Hoover says, "Well, what is?". And I say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?" "But something is happening here and you don't know what it is do you, Mr Baker?", says Hoover arms crossed and with a sick smile on his face. "I'll figure it out eventually", I add dryly. "And if you don't?", spits out Hoover.

The shot rolls on longer than usual. Why doesn't the director yell cut already? When I close my hands, there is less than emptiness. When I close my eyes, I don't envision. I don't even envision nothing. 7 minutes of dream. Then, everything seizes to be. No traces of a life lived. Nothing to bury. Nothing to leave behind. A dog without a tale. The videotapes have been erased. The vaginal openings sealed. Who takes it of you? Static dots. Millions of them hovering like particles. Then reduced to a single dot and with a flash nothing. "Red, blue, green. I have it all here. Red, blue, green, I have it all here". I repeat over and over manically with only Hoover and his lap dog my witness. Just a dying man, wanting more time than he was given. With my final dying breath, I howl until I am no more.

Bonus Points:

-The infectious high energy, 2-Tone forever!

-Dudes wrestling on stage, cracking open cans, playing saxophones and throwing mad shapes

-The fella in the middle front row with his Mirror in the Bathroom t-shirt having big Balthazar energy

-the intros and intermissions chatting about the twist

-Steadicam usage, shot in 35mm that can be blown up to 70mm without losing quality

-Scrapping the usual third row view and shooting on stage

-Terry Hall's lurking

-Buster Bloodvessel's tongue shit

Overall Score: 5/5