Thinkin’ all about those cen­sored sequences

The Kings are play­ing the Grizzlies and yet I can­not watch. It is trag­i­cally unfair.
Last night I couldn’t actu­ally con­vince myself to go to bed, so I stayed up watch­ing movies on the cable. I don’t do this nearly enough. I saw things of inter­est and I’m going to talk about them.
DunwichThe Dunwich Horror (1970): I can’t believe I’ve never seen this until now. All these kinds of earthly man­i­fes­ta­tions of demonic phe­nom­ena tales are so very much My Bag. Basically, Sandra Dee gets date-​raped by Satan. At least once, maybe twice. That is the whole movie. Although there is all that H.P. Lovecraft “unearthly beings from another dimen­sion” stuff instead of good old-​fashioned occult crap, but it’s a minor com­plaint. So Sam Rockwell, I mean Dean Stockwell, is the youngest in a long fam­ily line of peo­ple with “unusual” “beliefs” and when he sees doughy Sandra Dee clutch­ing a copy of the Necronomicon, he is, dare I say, bewitched! and sets to employ­ing a whole satchel­ful of war­lock trick­ery in order to win her over so that he can sac­ri­fice her in a rit­ual to open the gates to … some­thing, and maybe impreg­nate her, or get some­thing else to impreg­nate her, or what­ever, I dunno. It’s artis­tic. With his Yorkie mous­tache, WASP ‘fro and flut­tery man-​scarf, he brings to mind Roddy McDowall in that one episode of “Columbo,” only not so butch, and both Sandra Dee and her Bonnie Cashin cape are suit­ably cap­ti­vated. The most fan­tas­tic thing is that he’s whip­ping out this whole cat­a­log of awe­some expres­sion­at­ing, like shifty-​eyed dart­ful glances and pop-​eyed stare-​takes punc­tu­at­ing his every line of dia­logue as if to say Bonggg, I am cast­ing a spell on you, bonggg and it is not to be missed. And I can’t even begin to get into all the trippy filter-​abuse pos­ter­i­za­tion seg­ments, over­laid images that would made Tim Pope pee on him­self, the bitchin’ Les Baxter score, the multi-​armed Coldmiser mon­ster that looks like a 3D Ikea wall-​hanging with teeth, or the part where the pur­port­edly semi-​nude Sandra Dee, in the midst of alleged sac­ri­fi­cial ecstasy, is laid out on the altar and you can see the entire arm­hole of her body stock­ing, com­plete with seams. It doesn’t match her skin­tone in the slight­est. Also, there are tons of stunt boobs and inap­pro­pri­ate grop­ing. And don’t miss the shock sur­prise end­ing! I give it a mil­lion stars.
Spun (2002): I missed the first cou­ple of min­utes, but I could tell after 30 sec­onds that this movie would be intol­er­a­ble. Clearly Jonas Akerlund needed to make a full-​length revis­i­ta­tion of “Smack My Bitch Up” and “Turn the Page” and then edit it to rip off, I mean pay trib­ute to, the addic­tion rush sequences from Requiem for a Dream. There’s a rea­son why those were used spar­ingly. Oh my God. This is a com­plete piece of shit. Let me tell you some­thing about America! It’s got drugs! And FAT PEOPLE! Fat peo­ple who do drugs! And they eat junk food and watch wrestling and shop at — get this — con­ve­nience stores. And some guys wear these mul­let hair­dos and they’re CRAZY! Don’t they even real­ize they look stu­pid? Man, Americans are STUPID! They watch NASCAR and wear avi­a­tor glasses like they think they’re from the ‘70s, but it’s totally not even the ‘70s, because in case you haven’t noticed, it is 2002 and prac­ti­cally the FUTURE. But don’t tell that to these peo­ple! They wear, hello, acid-​washed jeans? and cow­boy boots. Cowboy boots! Have you seen these things? Only hicks wear that stuff! Hey, guess where there are a lot of hicks? AMERICA! Let me tell you some­thing about America. They’ve got pornogra­phies and strip­pers and peo­ple who watch strip­pers and GAY PEOPLE! And every­one does drugs and it’s dirty and gross and yet extremely sexy, because we Europeans are so ADVANCED in our for­mu­la­tion of aes­thetic stan­dards that every­thing about dirty Americans that is dis­gust­ing and gross and that Finger-​Pointing-​at-​YOU should really despise about YOURSELVES is actu­ally the very zenith of hot­ness to us, because we are SO BEYOND YOU. This movie can shoot itself in the face and bleed to death. I can’t believe I watched the entire thing! It made me go back and watch The Dunwich Horror a sec­ond time just to clear out the venom. I rec­om­mend watch­ing this movie specif­i­cally to hate every­thing about it.
Little Murders (1971): I only saw the last half of this, which is either the stronger or weaker half, depend­ing. Uh. I’ve seen this maybe three times. It’s not the kind of movie you can watch over and over again. I like it as They Just Don’t Make ‘Em Like This Anymore but I don’t think I’ll ever get Chris to watch it as he despises Jules Feiffer. The first time I saw this was on a dou­ble fea­ture at the Film Forum with, if mem­ory serves, Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? which is a cer­tain sort of bill for a cer­tain sort of per­son. It was try­ing. But good. Just don’t try to see those both on the same night, that is rough going.
It took me so long to write this that the game ended ages ago and the Kings won. YAY

3 comments to Thinkin’ all about those cen­sored sequences

  • Kim

    Little Triggers” by Elvis Costello

  • Dear Kim,
    Someone should pay you a really big lot of money to write these things. Also, I think that me and you and James St. James should take it on the road. I get to go because it is my idea. And I will sell the merch.

  • Kim

    Oh Jane! I was going to say “and P.S. Jane did you see the St. James Version about Aaron Carter in L’Uomo Vogue?” yet I totally for­got, and here you are right there. Here you are right there? I need to get some sleep. And then we take it on the road, for you are my lady.
    Love all day long,