A wild party in the house that dripped blood! Movies viewed

Several years before Merchant Ivory became big with films such as Howard’s End and Room With a View, they made the less successful THE WILD PARTY (1975). James Coco plays a fading comedy star (baased on Fatty Arbuckle, I believe) whose party will double as a screening for his new film which he hopes will turn his life around. In the meantime he’s increasingly abusive to his mistress (Raquel Welch) even as she struggles to be supportive.

I’ve been curious about this one for a while but it lost my interest almost immediately. The cast, which includes Perry King, Royal Dano and David Dukes, is good but there’s something heavy-handed about the execution that I didn’t see in later Merchant-Ivory works (whether it’s the Americanness of this one or that it’s an early work, I don’t know). As a result I lost interest fast; The Cat’s Meow worked much better in a similar vein.

Howard Hawks’ TWENTIETH CENTURY (1934) stars John Barrymore and Carole Lombard in a screwball comedy where Boy Director Gets Girl Actor, Boy Director Loses Girl Actor to Hollywood and Boy Director then moves heaven and hell to get back as he can’t seem to score a hit without her. This feels very much like a dry run for the Cary Grant/Rosalind Russell relationship in Hawks’ His Girl Friday, which was also written by Ben Hecht but as Films of Howard Hawks says, it’s not as balanced: this is a Barrymore star vehicle and while he’s hysterically funny, Lombard’s role isn’t written to match him (nor does he have Grant’s charm) which makes her too much the victim (and her boyfriend is a complete cipher). Thumbs down.“There’s a law in this country about riding on trains and I’m calling on you to invoke it.”

JUDAS AND THE BLACK MESSIAH (2021) is the grim story of how the FBI gave one petty black crook the choice to either spend time in prison or joining Fred Hampton’s Black Panther chapter, giving them intel to take Hampton down and ultimately helping them assassinate him. Well done, although as I’m familiar with Hampton’s story and they’re sticking close to the facts there’s nothing terribly revelatory here (the big surprises were that Hampton was only 21 when they killed him and that the informant committed suicide the night after PBS aired an interview with him). “You don’t have to understand, Bill — you just have to draw me a blueprint.”When I moved up here TYG bought me a copy of the Amicus horror film THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD (1971) and proceeded to freak out about the 1970s fashion. That made it irresistible when Carolina Theatre aired it on the big screen last weekend. Investigating the disappearance of horror star Jon Pertwee, a Scotland Yard man learns it’s only the latest several bizarre deaths in the house, from Denholm Elliott being attacked by his fictional creation to Peter Cushing and Joss Ackland losing their heads over a wax figure of Salome to Christopher Lee worrying his daughter is the child of Satan. Not the best of Amicus’ output but fun. “Then I wouldn’t suggest that you spend time in that house alone.”

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March came in like a lion and alas, came out like a lion

As I wrote last week I knew this last week of March wouldn’t let me catch up completely on what I didn’t get done this month. I caught up less than that.

Some of this was fun. TYG is a big fan of Rhiannon Giddens so we caught a Giddens concert Tuesday night. That led to us getting in late which wiped me out for the next day. Worth it though. Most of it was Plush Dog. The glaucoma the vet diagnosed last week requires a lot of eyedrops and they have to be put in with gaps between them. This expands dog care to take in an extra half-hour in the morning. And at lunch. And in the evening. Plus she was concerned he was hurting which led to us going to the eye vet yesterday, using up a chunk of time. Though it was the right call: the Plush One had a small scratch on his eye, nothing disastrous but it requires added drops so it doesn’t hurt him.

Plus I had my own eye appointment Thursday afternoon, with dilation. Which meant it wasn’t comfortable staring at my computer or reading so that was it for work.

I did get an article in at The Local Reporter on the challenges of relocating a bricks-and-mortar business. I also conducted an interview for what will probably be a story for next week. Over at Atomic Junk Shop I blogged about several random stories that caught my interest. The debut of the Legion of Superheroes foe Mordru on the cover above was one of them; so was Superman (below) dying of Virus X.Both covers are by Neal Adams.

I did manage to get some good work done on top of that. I completed a rough draft of my proposal to McFarland for a Jekyll and Hyde book. Seeing how much time I put in on it makes me wonder if this is a good idea — it’ll suck up way more time than I anticipate — but having already pitched them on the idea, I might as well press forward.

I also did some work on Southern Discomfort. Mostly it was going through the first 100 pages, which I’d already proofed, and eliminating most of the compound sentences linked by “but.” I’ve discovered proofing it that I overuse that sentence structure. The rewriting kept some of them but eliminated most of them one way or another. Surprisingly the changes also trimmed a couple of hundred words.

Oh well. I’m starting to adapt to Plushie’s new schedule. I have no medical appointments planned for next month. Let’s see if I can get myself back on track.

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Two pets sitting, a third by the flowers

Some pet photos for your Friday.The chair where we pile some of our blankets and sheets has become Wisp’s new nest.

 

Peak Plushie. In about a week he’ll be groomed down and look totally different.

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Undead Sexist Cliche: to oppose rape is to hate men

This is an Undead Sexist Cliche I blogged about almost a decade ago, that taking action against rape or harassment is an attack on men. The classic argument was that women would make false rape accusations at the drop of a hat, therefore treating rape charges seriously is an attack on men. Plus boys will be boys — to punish rapists is to criminalize male sexuality. Which is bullshit because rape is not some natural male behavior, it’s a choice. An evil one.

Mixed in with that is the old cliche that feminists don’t want equality, they want to hurt men and seize their power. Opposition to the fight against harassment and sexual assault isn’t misogynist, it’s anti-anti-misogynist, which is totally different … somehow.

Thus we get alleged rapists such as the Southern Baptist leader Johnny Hunt suing in supposed outrage that they’ve been alleged to be such. As I understand it, the allegation didn’t cost him anything — he wasn’t removed from his post, arrested or otherwise punished — but he sued anyway.

Now Alexandra Brodsky (author of Sexual Justice) says college men accused of sexual harassment are suing on the grounds going through Title IX procedures violates their rights (if you want to know why that’s bullshit, check out Brodsky’s excellent book): “The male plaintiffs of these cases are students who were accused of and penalized for sexual misconduct at their schools, and they allege that Title IX policies violated their rights specifically because of their gender. Circuit courts ruled in favor of both plaintiffs.” As Brodsky, Bolger and Singh’s paper notes, ‘this backward reasoning suggests that civil rights enforcement is a form of discrimination against dominant groups.'”

Which of course is the same logic as Alabama banning the teaching of divisive topics — mustn’t tell white boys anything that would make them even slightly uncomfortable with their privilege. No, technically it talks about making anyone uncomfortable but I doubt a teacher’s going to get in trouble for saying slavery wasn’t that bad. Or a proposed Florida bill that calling someone sexist or racist is automatic defamation. I’m willing to bet Sen. Jason Brodeur wouldn’t think saying Democrats serve Satan or dropping the n-word is equally objectionable or Fox host Greg Gutfeld saying AOC only supports immigration because she’s horny. Much the same way some Republicans are outraged to have abortion claims fact-checked or for Yelp to point out crisis pregnancy centers don’t offer medical care.

Or consider Texas, where one legislator is pushing a bill that would give tax breaks to married couples with large families but only if they’re straight and have never divorced. Republicans squeal like stuck pigs about how gays/blacks/women get supposed special benefits but they’re fine if the Right People are on the receiving end.

Similarly we have Ben Shapiro objecting that the left hates military masculinity, presumably because liberals are open to gays and women serving. And that questioning the toxic part of masculinity is yet another war on men where women won’t let them be strong leaders. Pastor Jack Hibbs is a complementarian so I would guess what he means is that men get to lead and dominate all the time — which is not the same thing.

For more examples of misogynist bullshit and double standards, read Undead Sexist Cliches, available as a Amazon paperback, an ebook and from several other retailers.

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Wednesday’s covers are full of woe

And also full of crime, starting with this uncredited cover.This one’s also uncredited.Griffith Foxley gets credit for this oneAnd Harvey Kidder for the last one of the day.
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Adventure on the wild, lawless frontier of … Canada?

One of the things that struck me during my long Doc Savage reread was that a number of the books took place in Canada’s northwest, a wild, outlaw zone where you might be safe if there were Mounties nearby. Otherwise you were on your own: it’s an isolated wilderness area where every man and woman has to fight for survival alone. That’s the setting for Brand of the Werewolf Mystery on the Snowand The Three Devils.
This is a genre — Canadian adventure — that was popular in the US a century ago and quite anachronistic now, when Canadians are either extraordinarily nice or Wolverine. That led me to read HOLLYWOOD’S CANADA: The Americanization of Our National Image by Pierre Berton for some perspective on the now defunct genre.

Writing in the early 1970s, Berton discusses how Hollywood took a country whose landscape is dominated by farm acreage and lots of big cities and turned it into a wilderness dominated by mountains and forests. Everyone lives in isolated hamlets and drinks in the local saloon (Canada was a dry country for a large chunk of its history). The Mounties struggle relentlessly to live up to their creed, “always get your man.” Blackfoot tribesmen launch attacks on covered wagons heading west. When a stranger shows up in the wilderness everyone knows not to ask questions (like small towns anywhere, if a stranger shows up everyone wants to ask questions and get in their business). Mounties establish justice with blazing six guns. Travel is by horse. Indigenous people always wield bows and arrows, not guns. Berton goes into much detail about what a fantasy this all is but due to the power of movies, even some Canadians swallowed it at the time of writing (I’ve no idea how things may have changed since).

The book was a help to my efforts to define this lost genre. It also made me appreciate that the Canadian cliches are more widespread than I realized. Bruno Hen in The Monsters lives in the American northwoods but he’s straight out of Canadian cliches: a “half-breed” (mixed race) with no redeeming features, a petty thief,  a bully, and spiteful enough that when he robs a neighbor’s fish trap he destroys all the fish he doesn’t take. Berton’s book says the Métis — Canada’s indigenous/white population, considered a tribe of their own — are extremely law abiding IRL. In Hollywood films, they’re either happy-go-lucky rogues or black-dyed villains.

As I continue editing, I’ll keep my eye out for more examples.

#SFWApro. All rights to images remain with current holders. Covers top to bottom by James Bama, Walter Baumhofer, Modest Stein and Bama again.

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Undead sexist cliche: women provoke men into raping them

That’s the message Marjorie Taylor Greene shared recently, that conservative Christian women should dress conservatively and modestly: “It’s also good to not tempt your Christian brothers and cause them to stumble.”

This is one of the ugliest and most common undead sexist cliches, that if men commit rape or harassment it’s because women’s sexy looks and slutty ways drove them to it! The women were, as the rape apologist phrase goes, asking for it. The provocative dress defense used to be commonplace in rape trials: show the woman was dressed too sexy, imply the guy couldn’t help himself, or that she was even going out looking to get laid, the slut. Presto, acquittal!

Like all undead sexist cliches, it’s bullshit. When men rape it’s not because women “cause them to stumble,” it’s because the men make a choice to rape. The use of date rape drugs, of tactics to get a woman alone show the rapists are making calculated choices, not mindless reactions to miniskirts. Let’s not forget, women in burkhas have been raped. Nineteenth-century women in long Victorian dresses got raped. Women in conservative Christian churches where “modest” dress is the norm still get raped.

While this attitude is one that can turn up anywhere, some Christian conservatives make it worse by incorporating it into their faith. Bill Gothard’s creepy church, according to the Duggars documentary, taught women their bodies were “eye-traps” irresistibly drawing men’s attention unless suitably covered up. That tells women if they’re raped, it’s their own fault; it tells men that if they rape, they’re not responsible.

In this line of thinking there is no way a woman can dress that will protect her from blame. For too many people, just the fact she was raped proves she was at fault. Beyond that, men’s feeling of attraction or arousal is too often seen as something she’s doing to him. She’s making him feel the way he does; his arousal is proof she’s dressing too sexy. For antifeminist propagandists such as Suzanne Venker, it’s intentional: women who get sexually harassed aren’t innocent, they know perfectly well what they’re doing to men! Pastor Carl Gallups even tops that: in his eyes women who dress sexy are committing sexual assault on men.

Even if all this crackpot misogyny were true, in a sane world that would put the burden on men. If they’re animals who can’t restrain themselves, blindfold them when they go out. Don’t let them go to strip shows. Have minders to watch them in singles bars. Cage the predators, not the victims.

But the unwritten law is that restraining male sexuality is totally unjust. Boys will be boys and men will be rapists. Men are biologically hardwired to rape (no, we’re not, as I explain at the link — and the Guardian explains too). Making it illegal to rape goes against nature. Much better to restrict women by telling them not to dress sexy, not to drink, not to be alone at night. If they don’t follow the rules, blame them. If they do follow the rules, blame them anyway because few women (like most human beings) rarely calculate their actions perfectly. And if they do exercise “proper” caution blame them for being so hostile to men or so prudish about showing off their bodies. There’s no winning. And that’s the way misogynists want it.

For more on rape, harassment and victim blaming, read my Undead Sexist Cliches, available as a Amazon paperback, an ebook and from several other retailers.

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Magic in trade paperbacks!

DR. STRANGE: A Separate Reality by multiple writers (primarily Roy Thomas, Gardner Fox and Steve Englehart) and multiple artists (most notably Gene Colan and cover artist Frank Brunner) is both a good read (mostly) and an interesting look at the transition from the Silver to the Bronze Age. It starts out as Thomas and Colan try transforming Strange into more of a superhero figure (mask, secret identity) but that doesn’t save his book from biting the dust as the 1960s come to a close. This leads to Dr. Strange retiring then getting revived for a new and rather uneven story arc involving a thing/person/place/entity named Shuma-Gorath. Steeped in evil, it/he/she/they are rising from sleep and other dark forces are swarming after it like remoras with a shark; but what is Shuma-Gorath’s end-game? And can Stephen Strange thwart it?

By the end of the arc, Englehart and Brunner are the new creative team. While they were only on the book together for about a dozen issues, they’re a classic piece of 1970s trippy mysticism (as many people have described it) as Dr. Strnage travels in time, witnesses the birth of the universe, then gets sucked inside the Orb of Agamotto for a journey into unreality. While stretches of the book are not good, the best bits make this worth buying.

Hellboy in Hell seemingly wrapped up the series chronologically by having Hellboy transform Hell as he did the Earth. In KOSHCHEI IN HELL by Mike Mignola and Ben Stenbeck, the Russian sorcerer, has settled comfortably into the empty netherworld, at peace for the first time. Then Sir Edward Grey’s ghost (who gets a Mignola-drawn story of his own) nudges Koshchei into taking a stand against Hellboy’s demon half-sister, who seeks to resurrect Pluto, the primal lord of Hell; strange things result, including the appearance of several familiar faces among the damned. Weird in the way the best Hellboy is weird and probably laying the groundwork for further adventures. Mignola did the cover.

Up on the surface of peaceful New Earth we have FRANKENSTEIN: New World by Mignola, Christopher Golden and Thomas Sniegoski.  A sequel to Frankenstein Underground, this has a young girl in the Hollow Earth drag a reluctant Frankenstein to the surface. Wouldn’t you know, some sort of unspeakable evil shows up at exactly the same time? It seems even the end of the world isn’t the end of the adventures … Better than the predecessor volume.

HELLBOY AND THE BPRD: 1957 by Mignola and multiple co-creators has the typical weirdness of these retcons to the early years — werebeasts, a Thunderbird, a haunted sawmill and an evil medium. Nothing as wild as Koshschei in Hell but good fun.

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The Tick is Manifest: recent TV viewing

(Some spoilers for Manifest).

When MANIFEST launched in 2018 it looked promising. Five years after Flight 828 vanished on its return from the Caribbean, it arrives in New York with nobody on board aware how long they’ve been gone. What happened? Why do they have these mysterious impulses that steer them to help people in need? While the cast was good, the show lost me as it went through the next two seasons (as I discussed in my review of S2). Apparently I wasn’t alone as NBC axed the show after S3. Netflix picked it up and I slowly worked my way through the final season.

Certainly I can’t fault their ambition. Having established in S3 that flight 828 is somehow connected with Noah’s ark, they go full-on cosmic/religious in S4: the passengers time is running out and when they die it will bring on an apocalypse. The murderous Angelina (Holly Taylor) believes she’s been chosen as a messiah who will save a small, elect crew; others hope that working together they can save the world entire. Volcanoes erupt under New York. In the final episode one of them coughs up the supposedly destroyed plane the passengers vanished on, everyone boards and while some (most notably Angelina) die, the rest survive to land … five years earlier, exactly when they were supposed to. God has tested them and now they get their lives back as a reward for …. well, I’ve no idea. As with Doonby, I have no idea why God’s supposed to have done this shit; the ending narration specifically says they’ll never understand it themselves. I could rationalize something if I cared but I don’t care that much. “There is no point trying to stop a volcano if the divine doesn’t want it stopped.” My friend Ross sent me the second season of THE TICK a while back but I only just finished it up. If anything, loonier than the first season, a complete loonie fest in which the Tick battles alongside Leonardo da Vinci, faces the world’s comfiest chair, deals with supervillain family dynamics and helps save Christmas. As with S1 this set misses one episode and S3 is nowhere to be found. But I’m grateful for what I do have because this is some gloriously funny stuff. “He’s acknowledged the decoration committee — and now he’s thanking his parents!”

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Well damn, I thought this would be a much more productive week

Not perfectly productive as it was my birthday week. I took my birthday off as I usually do and it went great. I made it a point not to do the normal things I do on a day off: I shopped for new sneakers, wandered around Barnes & Noble, wandered around the rest of the mall, bicycled and sat out on our deck to enjoy the garden. Nothing spectacular but TYG was working and we had dog physical rehab that morning. Relaxing made more sense, and it felt good.

I thought I’d be able to squeeze some solid work into the rest of the week but somehow I couldn’t quite muster the energy. I suspect the early pollen hit me with the kind of allergic whammy I used to get back in Florida: no sneezing, just a sense of exhaustion. It didn’t use to affect me that way here but I guess climate change is doing its magic.

Plus this morning TYG took Plushie in to the vet, concerned he had an eye problem. She has a keen sense of such things: the vet sent us to the animal eye doctor over in Cary who confirmed he has glaucoma. We came home with a bunch of drops which may be able to keep him seeing for a while yet. That used up a lot of today.
I got a couple of articles done for The Local Reporter. One on a local woman who gave her son a kidney and now fights to increase live-organ kidney donations. I discovered talking to her that it’s now possible to work organ swaps — if A isn’t a compatible donor to B and C can’t donate to D, sometimes C and A can swap recipients so that both recipients have a compatible organ.

I also wrote an article on Tuesday’s Carrboro town council meeting. While I can watch it streaming now, it’s a pain in the butt because it’s always slow going to get everything worth covering down. It’s not really worth the pay rate but I think local coverage is worth the effort.Other than that, I got a little work done on Let No Man Put Asunder and Savage Adventures. I also rewatched the 1931 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to give a detailed discussion in my Mcfarland book proposal.

And I got two stories in at Atomic Junk Shop, one about a couple of war comics of interest and one about the end of Batman’s New Look era. Here’s one shot of the Rogue’s Gallery gathering together, courtesy of Chic Stone.

And now I’m staring at the last week of the month and feeling I definitely won’t get everything done I wanted to. But I’ll do what I can.

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