Don Webb alerted me to the existence of Hotel Torgo, a documentary on Manos: The Hands of Fate. It features commentary by El Paso SF fan Richard Brandt (a regular Nova Express reader, back in the day), and memories by cast member Bernie Rosenblum.
Warning: You do have to put up with annoying, intrusive Microsoft ads.
Rubber
Directed by Quentin Dupieux
Written by Quentin Dupieux
Starring Stephen Spinella, Roxane Mesquida, Jack Plotnick and Wings Hauser
If you see only one film this year about a murderous telekinetic tire, sadly, it will have to be this one.
Our Protagonist, being hassled by The Man.
Your normal moviegoer isn’t going to touch this with a ten-foot pole, so this review is aimed at fellow freak-cinema aficionados, the sort of people who see a trailer for a film about a murderous telekinetic tire, and go “Oh yeah! I have to see that!”
You might want to reconsider.
I am totally down with the idea of a film about a murderous telekinetic tire, but Rubber disappointed me. About half the film, the scenes of the tire itself, its slowly building murderous rampage (it starts out with small animals before going all Scannners on various humans unfortunate enough to cross its path), and it stalking a random hot French chick, work almost as well as I hoped they would. All it needed was some recycled Michael Bay music for the perfect over-dramatic touch.
Hot French chick included.
Sadly, it doesn't really help.
Unfortunately, the other half of the film ruins the tire-rampage sections, by imposing an arty-farty, post-modern, metafictional framing device whereby a bunch of slow-witted redshirts are lured into the desert to watch the tire’s rampage through dispensed binoculars as part of some sort of…what? Performance art? These parts serve only to pad out the film (and it’s a bad sign when an 82 minute film feels badly padded), provide a few (far too few) laughs, and heighten the artificial nature of the whole endeavor.
This is the wrong narrative strategy.
The way to make a film like this work is never to wink at the audience. Minoru Kawasaki provides great example of how to do this in The Calamari Wrestler and Executive Koala. The more absurd the actions, the more serious the actors played it. No one pointed out the combat boots sticking out of the giant squid, or the obvious zipper on the back of the koala’s head. Unlike Rubber, nobody comes out and gives a speech at the beginning about why things are done for “no reason.” Or, to pick a domestic example, no one walks on screen during Team America: World Police to point out how all the characters are marionettes.
Some things in the film work. The scene of the tire sitting in the hotel room watching NASCAR really captures the absurdest vibe the director seemed to be aiming for. The opening bit where the car knocks down every single artfully disarrayed breakaway chair almost works as a sort of white trash Jacques Tati cinematic tone poem. It’s got well-executed exploding heads. And you get to see Roxane Mesquida’s very shapely French ass for a few seconds while she takes a shower, which would be a big deal if it wasn’t for, you know, the Internet. (NSFW. You’re welcome.)
About the only way I can recommend seeing this is as part of a viewing party for weird films, especially if you give out a prize for whoever can come up with the most tire-related puns. But even in that context, it’s not remotely as inventive (or interesting) as the far-less-technically-competent Die, You Zombie Bastards!, which delivers steady doses of WTF throughout.
My advice? You shouldn’t see any films about murderous telekinetic tires until a better one rolls along.
Here’s the trailer, which includes most of the best scenes:
My computer was in the shop, so I haven’t had a chance to do the usual photo roundup until now.
The public has cried out “Stina! We just can’t get enough photos of her! Could you possibly put up a bunch more?” The blue hair fetish crowd has spoken, and who am I to deny the public what it wants? Vox populi, vox dei.
(If you’re wondering whether the phrase “Blue Hair Fetish” bring up a lot of Google hits, I can tell you: Yes. Yes it does. And you shouldn’t test this theory at work. (See also: Rule 34.))
Julia Mandala, Linda Donahue, and Bill Crider.
Martha Wells and Troyce Wilson, just back from their awesome private tour of NASA. They even showed them the video feed of the top secret moonbase and the dead alien in the third subbasement freezer…
Three of the four redheads of the apocalypse: Julia Mandala, Rhonda Eudaly, and Linda Donahue.
Stina Leicht: The Seconding.
Stina and SF Signal head honcho John DeNardo, whose mouth and eyes are wired in such a way that when one opens, the other must close.
Jayme Lynn Blaschke, who suffers from no such limitations.
Martha Wells, wearing a black outfit against the black backdrop the concom thoughtfully provided.
Editor Guest of Honor Ann VanderMeer, of the Florida Science Fiction VanderMeers.
Texas in 2013 Worldcon bid chair Bill Parker with international confidence man Fred Duarte.
Jonathan Miles, pledging to eat only the brand of butter-substitute promoted by William Shatner.
Stina: The Return of the Attack of the Revenge of the Quickening
Gabrielle Faust, who wisely opted for the decorative white corset and brass goggles against the black background.
Lou Antonelli, Bill Crider and Jayme Lynn Blaschke.
Artist Guest of Honor Rocky Kelley.
Bill Parker in the militantly festooned Texas in 2013 suite.
A closeup of Bill Crider from an earlier picture. Cropping! The hallmark of quality photographs!
While looking around for something else, I stumbled upon this this fairly extensive piece on the copyright status of H. P. Lovecraft’s work.
The impression I always had is that all of Lovecraft’s works that weren’t already in the public domain passed into in 2007, 70 years after Lovecraft’s death, under the terms of the Berne convention. But the story of who owned what before that point is quite tangled indeed…
And here’s the second part of my series on my reference library. The last installment dealt with the books I reach for most often. The reference works listed in this post share only size, being too big for most of my other shelves, which is why they’re filed here. Some of these (the Nevins, the first two Bleilers) get a lot of use, while others almost never get taken down (things that have been superseded by both the Internet and the two Clute encyclopedias).
(Click to embiggen.)
I’m not going to do a full run-down of publication dates, etc. for everything, but here’s a general overview of what’s here:
Including my story “The Dog Parade.”
Here’s the traycase the signed, limited edition comes in:
And here’s the book itself nestled snugly inside that traycase:
It was actually an unusually long journey for the anthology to be published, as one of the sets of signature sheets got lost in transit, which set back the publication timeline considerably.
Contents of Postscripts #24/25: The New and Perfect Man, edited by Peter Crowther & Nick Gevers, are as follows:
Sold wherever fine SF anthologies are sold…
I haven’t posted much the last week because I’ve been busy doing this and that, and one of the things I’ve been busy with is a long-overdue cleanup of my office, including doing something about those Nova Express review copies cluttering it up. Now that I’ve finally finished moving books around, and gotten a new camera (a Kodak Slice) to replace the one that died, I thought I would put up some long-overdue pictures of the books in my office, starting with the reference shelf right next to my computer, which contains the reference works I tend to reach for most often.
(Click to embiggen.)
Going left to right (left being the side closest to the computer, and thus the books I reach for most often) are:
One guideline I’d offer aspiring SF/F/H book collectors is: Don’t skimp on the reference works. Some of these books can be expensive, but all it takes is one real find (or one expensive dud avoided) for a good reference work to pay for itself.
More pictures of my reference library when I have the time…
So about a year after I really needed to, I’ve finally got around to reorganizing my office. And by “reorganizing,” I mean “putting away a bunch of crap so I can actually put the books I’ve already bought in their proper places on my shelves.”
One obstacle to this is all the Nova Express review copies that have piled up around the place. It hasn’t (quite) been a decade since The Fanzine That Walks Like a Semiprozine published its last issue in 2002. In 2003 I was unemployed most of the year, in 2004 I bought a house, and in 2005 I took a 10 day trip to the UK to see London and the Glasgow Worldcon, all things that ate up both time and money required to publish something that lost a good $1,000-2,000 an issue. (I contend that Nova Express is not in fact dead, but merely resting and pining for the fjords. It’s been my intention to resurrect the beast as some sort of online zine, but life has continued to get in the way.) Despite its non-published status, Nova Express has continued to receive review copies of books (proofs, ARCS, hardbacks, paperbacks, you name it), the more interesting of which I’ve put aside until I had time to bring the zine back to life, though I have reviewed something here every now and then.
But rather than let all these review copies continue taking up valuable bookshelf space, I’ve decided to do two things:
Rather than spend time listing each and every copy (there are a lot), I’m just going to list the authors. If you’d like to review something by them, let me know. Keep in mind some of these are almost a decade old, but what the hell, better late than never.
If you want to review any of these, drop me a line.
Time for another roundup on my serious mental illness the latest acquisitions for my professional science fiction library since the last time I listed them. All these are first edition hardbacks in Fine condition, with Fine dust jackets, unless otherwise listed.
Books that I have available for sale through Lame Excuse Books are marked LEB (though a few of those titles won’t appear on the stock page until after I send out my next book catalog).
I’ve included scans of a few of the more uncommon titles.
