Tim Burton: Fall From Grace

Tim Burton hasn't made a good movie in a long time: Alice In Wonderland, Sweeney Todd, Corpse Bride... and very few people liked Charlie And The Chocolate Factory as much as I did (no, it's not really for kids), or even Planet Of The Apes, for that matter, which means Big Fish is the only good thing he's made in the past decade.

Then again, it may be his best film ever. Was it his last, final bit of inspiration? It could very well be, considering his next project looks like it's going to be a remake of his 1984 short, Frankenweenie...

Or maybe his reputation got to his hair. After all, his output from the 90s is as impressive as anything anyone else could come up with, starting with 1989's Batman, then Edward Scissorhands, Batman Returns, Ed Wood, Mars Attacks! and Sleepy Hollow.

Whatever the case, let's hope he wakes up soon, 'cause he's an original voice in Hollywood, one that should not be silenced - and one that gives Johnny Depp too much work for all of it to be crap - it'd be a waste of Depp's talent as well.

2 Autographed Rick Trembles Books

Talk about symbiotic - a post I can put in 3 different blogs - my regular one, my collectibles one, and my film criticism blog!

Last night, I went to a show at the Fantasia Film Festival called Lost Myths, a dual slideshow/storytelling performance, with the first half consisting of texts and narration by Claude Lalumière over art by Rupert Bottenberg, and the second half consisting of an oral history of Rick Trembles' autobiographical film criticism comic strip Motion Picture Purgatory, that runs in the Montreal Mirror and often has Trembles himself in them, and at times also mentions his ''weird punk'' band American Devices (whom I have featured in my Video Of The Week segments here); the MPP is kind of a cross between film criticism, the honesty and autobiographical themes of Harvey Pekar's American Splendor series (especially those with the art of Robert Crumb) and the sex scenes of Caligula - with more shit - literally - and a sensibility for humour reminiscent of Hunter S. Thompson's.

Since the show was part of Fantasia, I'd classify the 'performance shorts'' as short ''films'', as it was, indeed, an audiovisual feast for both the eyes and ears. I did enjoy the Lalumière/Bottenberg piece, as it was a fun and innovative look at how myths may have been written in the first place, but the (perhaps Bible-like) repetitiveness of them became an issue after the first half-dozen or so, seeing as (too) many of them had a baby-God born from an unworthy mother who would die during childbirth; unless that is a real-life issue Lalumière is trying to deal with through his art, it had run its course and become redundant way before the last story. But the storytelling itself, tongue-in-cheek and with a certain beat, was fun - and the art was beautiful. Most of the images would make awesome gig posters.

But the true headliner of the night, the one who got the loudest applause, was without a doubt Trembles. His work for the Mirror is read by some 300,000 people weekly, and since he incorporates his own life into the strips, we all know he is in his second stint with them (since 1998), as they had also published him in the 80s but fired him when they deemed one of his pieces to be too controversial and obscene. He - again - told us all about it, with a few strips shown to emphasize his points, but he also delved into his past, such as the fact that his father had also been a cartoonist, and who his influences were.

Of course he also talked about his band, and about a few short films he made. Once it was all over, he even took the time to show us the three animated shorts he made: God's Cocksuckers - based on a drawing he made and keeps recycling into his other works; a video for his band's De-censor-tized song; and the Canadian government-funded coup-de-grâce Goopy Spasms, which, despite being an animated short drawn in the style of '60s counterculture icons with an endless array of things stuck up the animated Trembles plug-hole, is as real a piece of cinematic truth as anything I've seen since Gaspar Noé's Irréversible - ironically enough, reviewed in one of the MPP books. It was realer than a political documentary.

But the best part of the night came after the show, as I approached the table where Lalumière, Bottenberg and Trembles were sitting, selling their books and offering to sign them. I made my way to Trembles' side and he just looked at me and said: ''You're Mr. Hell?''

To have someone who music I've been listening to for over 20 years, whose writings and drawings I've been reading for over a decade - and to whom I had never spoken to before - know who I was... it made my week. It was way more intense than when Jeffrey Ross asked me which bar he should go drinking in.

So I purchased both Motion Picture Purgatory books, and he signed them in blue ink, with a different blurb for each, both a play on my name.

Good times!

I Told Jeffrey Ross Where To Drink

Last Friday, as I was getting out from the most boring XXXtreme Humour Show of the last 5 editions of Just For Laughs, putting on my earphones and gearing up for a walk home, Jeffrey Ross was walking up the hill with his crew/hangers-on and pointed at... me.

He then asked me where he and his buddies should get their drinks on, saying he'd been told to go on St-Laurent street but he couldn't find any decent bars.

I responded by saying he'd probably been told to come on St-Laurent because all the bars there were really expensive, with high cover charges and $20 drinks and nothing but gold diggers to talk to - a plot to get him to spend his not-quite-hard-earned American money on our most expensive strip. I told him he'd have at least as much fun on St-Denis, but that the folks there might be a tad smelly, and instead strongly recommended two places - Fouf's (where I actually ended up with the Former Lady Of The House later) where the music is fun and the terrace is comfortable and where his semi-fame wouldn't get in the way of his having a good time, and Madhatter's, on Crescent, basically the same ambiance but in English, and if he'd feel the need to get his legs moving, all the bars surrounding the Hatter's were dance bars.

He seemed to like my honest manner, and, really, I just told him where I'd go if I were me or him.

Now I just hope he doesn't call his next stand-up show Don't Listen To Strangers, featuring a skit called Why I Hate Montrealers...

Video Of The Week: Katy Perry Feat. Snoop Dogg

Disclaimer: it's everywhere. It's the song of the summer, like it or not. And the video is absolutely beautiful, especially on 'mute'.

And Snoop Dogg's cameo is yet another where he does little else but spell his fucking name out (seriously, Snoop, we know you can spell your name, but we also know you can release amazing fucking records like Doggystyle and Tha Last Meal and can participate in great collabs like on The Chronic and The Chronic 2001, could you at least try to repeat once in a while, like, say, once a year? please?)

The song is pretty much the West Coast's answer to previous Video Of The Week Jay-Z's and Alicia Keys' Empire State Of Mind, where they replace the grittiness and neon lights with candy, pastels and sunshine, and they chose the right ambassadors for it, although the song itself is not up to par, in my opinion. Sure, at least it's pretty much free of autotune, which is pretty much a blessing in itself, but my ears are still bleeding from its pseudo-techno/90s dance sounds from when I last heard the song almost a week ago.

In any event, there's no escaping this fucking song, so no point in trying. YouTube it here; they don't allow me to embed it here.

Maybe I should have boycotted it for that reason alone. Meh, too late, I wrote the blurb. Here are not-so-subtle pictures of the video...

Sad News, Men

I had a post about Megan Fox earlier today...

Turns out she married Brian Austin Green, the DJ/nerd douchebag from the original Beverly Hills 90210 series in a quiet ceremony in late June...

Guess I'll have to post about Halle Berry and Kate Winslet, I hope you don't mind...

Sara C. Blasse Is A Stupid Woman

You have got to love the internet. It allows the general public (i.e. you and I) to receive news at a breakneck speed, so fast, in fact, that all the facts are not fully in place before you get the news, and then it has to be corrected afterwards.

It's insane, and it's awesome. And you get someone's name smeared forever, their stupidity in the ethers for eternity.

In a case that could only happen in New Jersey (when in doubt, watch this short video) and that rivals that of the bullshit story actor Jeremy London tried telling a few weeks ago, a woman, Sara C. Blasse, claimed she was carjacked. At first.

Then she said that was a front, that she was actually giving someone - a male prostitute, no less - oral sex in her dad's car, and that that person crashed said car. Blasse - that's Sara C. Blasse, from Vineland, New Jersey, lest you forget, there's a classy picture of her right here - would rather her father think the reason for his car being totaled was she was giving someone head in it, instead of her being robbed. Kudos for the honesty.

Except it wasn't honest at all. Turns out that was a front too, as now the story goes like this: she and her boyfriend stole a laptop from a parked car, and the owner saw them flee, and as they were trying to get away, they crashed the car at an intersection, breaking her arm in the process. Then the dude proceeded to try to set the vehicle on fire, first by stuffing paper towels in the fuel tank and lighting them on fire, then doing so on the back seat.

The cops arrested and charged both.

He's accused of aggravated arson, burglary, two counts of theft and two counts of hindering apprehension; she's accused of aggravated arson, burglary, two counts of theft, hindering apprehension by destroying evidence and hindering apprehension by filing a false report.

Yet another ironic twist: she was released on bail, and he's in jail, despite she having more (and more serious) charges against her. That's Sara C. Blasse, from Vineland, New Jersey.

I love life, and the way it handles people.

Foxing Up The Hartford Whalers

It's a slow summer on my blog, I must admit. May and June were relatively productive, but July, because I'm way too busy renovating my house so two roommates can move in (including one of my brothers).

But I don't want to leave you hanging with nothing, so I'll give you Megan Fox, sporting a Hartford Whalers t-shirt, which is special considering the team hasn't been in existence since 1997, when they moved to Raleigh to become the Carolina Hurricanes. The link is here.

So, either she is well versed in hockey, or has someone who takes care of her wardrobe who is very indie - or she is one slick woman with a definite sense of style and irony.

Either way, I got to plug Megan Fox once again.

Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson And John Zorn: The Jazz Festival Experience

I briefly mentioned Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson in my previous post, but I've been holding back all week writing about them in a totally different context: their appearance at the Montréal International Jazz Festival with John  Zorn for a set of improvised music. Totally improvised. And, yes, that means no Velvet Underground stuff (that's ok, the tribute night more than made up for that!), and definitely no ''Walk On The Wild Side''.

Some people, who didn't seem to realize this was a jazz festival, not a pop one, booed and walked out. Zorn got so mad after booing started following the second piece that he said something along the lines of ''if you don't like this music, get the fuck out!'', which many did - most wanting a refund. About a third of Place-Des-Arts attendees left before the show was over, a large amount considering it barely lasted an hour and the expensive ticket prices - well over $100.

Spinner had this to say, while, somehow, The Guardian (in the U.K.) also got wind of the story. There were, however, satisfied customers, such as my friend Albérick, who some of you may know as art-sound creator .Cut from the Montreal Nintendo Orkestar, who wrote this review (and whose image I'm stealing for this entry).

Myself, I didn't go because I didn't know what to expect with the price range. I've been waiting for Reed to come to town with either his solo act without a concept or for one of his tours re-performing either the Berlin or Metal Machine Music records, and I was afraid this was going to be fluff - not because of Reed or his guests that night, but because the Jazz Fest, which has definitely gone from groundbreaking to very, very soft in the span of my lifetime (Lionel Richie being the opening concert of the festival attests to that). Basically, I was afraid the organizers would cut his balls off.

I'm glad to see they didn't, and I'm sad I missed the show, because, apparently, I was exactly the target audience for this. Luckily, it's available for download, recorded by a user named Patook, with artwork by schnitstelle. Go ahead, make your own mind up.

King Khan Does It Again

No, he didn't show Lindsay Lohan his ass again, but he made the news... for having been mistread by the Sydney Opera House and ranting and raving about it almost incoherently afterwards.

The lucky son of a bitch got to hang out with Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson, as well as the manager of the Blind Boys Of Alabama, who apparently would be interested in having Khan produce and record their next album.

In all the excitement, Khan and bandmate BBQ decided to disband their King Khan & BBQ Show project (see a video of theirs here) and have cancelled all remaining dates. It seems like over-reaction to me. The news was just too bizarre to pass up.

Video Of The Week: Charlotte Martin

Man, did it ever rain today. I think I hadn't seen that much water fall from the sky and into the streets since the flood of July 14th, 1987 (yes, an actual flash flood in a city/island like Montréal). In honour of that, a friend of mine invited everyone to reply to his Facebook status with a song about rain.

Among the common ones were The Cure (''Prayers For Rain''), Milli Vanilli (''Blame It On The Rain''), Mario Pelchat (''Pleurs Dans La Pluie'') and Guns N' Roses (''November Rain''), but I came up with Charlotte Martin's ''Every Time It Rains''.

Charlotte is an independent singer/songwriter originally from Illinois who now lives in California. She is a former model (and Miss Teen USA contestant, after having been Miss Teen Illinois) who has a university degree in vocal performance. She mainly plays the piano and, thus, is often compared to Tori Amos, except instead of singing about teddy bears and candy (and sex and rape), she sings about real life (and finding true love). Like a happier and (mentally) healthier Amos.

I met her in 2003 or 2004, when she came here before her On Your Shore record was released (she hasn't come to Montréal since). I put up posters of her around the venue and we hung out for most of the afternoon, then I watched her show. We've been in some form of contact ever since.

She is the nicest person I've ever met, and probably among the hottest, too, not that it matters, but it begs to question why she isn't more universally known considering she has everything the mass media would/should want, i.e. an exterior you can sell and a set of pipes stronger than just about anyone not called Whitney, Céline or Mariah.

She has covered Joy Division, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Interpol, the Stones and Pearl Jam, she has co-written songs and performed with Tiesto, Ben Lee and The Crystal Method and been on many movie and video game soundtracks, but this song here is all her, from her major label debut (she has since gone back to being indie). She definitely deserves to be heard more.