Review: Evidently... John Cooper Clarke

"I'm not the one who will have his life turned into legend. It won't be me.
It will be John Cooper Clarke."
Tony Wilson.

Ah, The Punk Rock Poet. I remember his gigs like I remember yesterday.
Suited-up, black tie, shiny boots and a hairdo that you could swear birds were nesting in.
Mostly performing solo, sometimes with a band, and always unleashing glorious volleys of poetry concerning Kung Fu,
rancid streets, raincoat-clad flashers and unhinged towns where "The fucking girls and fucking guys have fucking murder in their fucking eyes."

Never have the means streets of England been laid open with such insight and such venom, and this BBC4 documentary -
directed and shot by John Ross - bestows reverential treatment on this one-of-a-kind performer.

Evidently... covers John's schooldays - "They taught you how to read and that's the main thing" - which kick-started
his love of poetry, and moves onto his early gigs and his heroin addiction which lead to a frenzy of live activity to fund his habit.
Those lost years of the 1980s' saw John emerge as a survivor, while adding to the legion of admirers he accrued during those early days of Punk.

We hear about his favourite band (The Ramones); the days he spent sharing an apartment with Nico and John Cale, and
those wonderful gigs.John recalls the apprehension he felt before playing the infamous Glasgow Apollo (his set lasted
just 4 minutes), but states that Punk audiences were usually far easier to perform to than the hostile nightclub circuit.

Then of course, we get classics such as Beasley Street, Kung Fu Interntional and Evidently Chickentown; the latter
made even more famous in the penultimate episode of The Sopranos.
The documentary is a beautiful shot, often moving account of the life and times of JCC; never more so than the footage of John inside the modern-day Red Lion pub in Salford, where he surveys the scene as a 1977 recording plays spookily in the background. Then and now.

One of the most pleasing aspects of this production is the number of musicians and artists who pay tribute to the man:
Steve Coogan, Dave Formula, Jarvis Cocker, Kate Nash (her fave JCC track is 'Twat'!), Don Letts, Pete Shelley and
Peter Hook are just a few of those who speak with love and affection for this National Treasure.
So what is it about JCC that has captured our hearts. That he was something different. That he showed us the value of words and their possibilities. That he made us laugh and made us think about our lives, the streets where we live and the people we have met and are yet to meet.



Happily, John has been off the smack for many years, and is continuing to delight us. I have a feeling he will outlive the bloody lot of us.
For his gift of not only bringing poetry to Punk but also for giving it back to the working class, deserves a knighthood

Long may he reign!

Blu-ray Review: Opening Night

And for every wrinkle, there's a pain
and for every pain, there's a year
and for every year, there's a person

One of the most important home video releases of the year comes to Blu-ray, courtesy of the BFI.
John Cassavete's OPENING NIGHT was released in 1977 and remains a truly inspirational work, and not just for movie buffs.
Indeed, this film should be compulsory viewing for any aspiring director, actor/actress, writer and cameraman.
OPENING NIGHT is built around a play - 'The Second Woman' - which is finishing its out-of-town run before transferring
to New York.
The play concerns a woman who wants to fall in love, but is painfully discovering her time has passed. Myrtle Gordon
(Gena Rowlands) is surrounded by a dream team of a crew: playwright Sarah Goode (Joan Blondell); director Manny Victor (Ben Gazzara); producer David Samuels ( Pual Stewart) and actor Maurice Aarons who are aware they have a star in their midst whose performance will make or break the play.
Myrtle, however, is struggling to accept she is no longer the young girl of 17 who could "do everything", and for her, the play's central theme of growing old gracefully is a little too close to home.
Soon, Myrtle begins to change lines of dialogue and walk offstage in the middle of scenes. This leads to a series of confrontations that reside uneasily alongside the death of a young girl who was knocked down outside the theatre seeking an audience with Gordon.
This is a tragedy that has a profound effect, with Myrtle witnessing an apparition that may either be a ghost or her own younger self, refusing to be ousted by the 'second woman'.
Whichever theory you go with, it's an utterly compelling premise, carried along by Rowlands who can say more with a single look, a gesture, than many artists with two hour's worth of dialogue. This really is a magnificent performance, but it certainly doesn't dwarf the rest of the cast.

Gazzara as the long-suffering director; Blondell and Stewart who run the whole gamut of emotions as their ship slowly sinks and Cassavetes himself, who teams up with Rowland to delive some wonderul improvisation when the play opens in New York, while sharing a love/hate relationship with his leading lady.

As with many great films, it's the small things that leave almost as much of a mark as the major sequences:
Goode asking Myrtle her age - a series of requests that go unanswered as Myrtle cannot bring herself to utter two simple numbers and her arrival at a wake, where one of the grieving relatives declares, "You don't have children. If you had, you wouldn't have come here". It's a devastating encounter, that amplifies the passing of time during Myrtle's unfulfilled life, but still she presses on, determined to find a different way to play the role and find something human in the production

Dollars and reputations may well be on the line, but for Myrtle, the most important thing is to learn to grow old gracefully and brushing aside fears of being typecast as an older woman if the play is a success.
OPENING NIGHT certainly repays multiple viewings, and this BFI disc is the ideal vehicle for such a journey.

The transfer appears in the orignal aspect ration of 1.85:1. The film was transferred in high-definition on a Spirit Datacine from a 35mm colour reversal internegtive. Thousands of instances of dirt, debris and scratches were removes using the MTI Digital Restoration System. The mono 2.0 audio sountrack was remastered at 24-bit from a 35mm magnetic audio track, and audio restoration tools were used to reduce pops, hiss and crackles. The result is a presentaion that exhibits rich, well saturated colours and sharp detail.

On the extras front, we are treated to a commentary track with Bo Harwood ( music score composer)and Mike Ferris
(cameraman), moderated by Tom Charity. The track is a mixture of anecdotal and scene specific - the latter largely taking over for the last half hour - and it's a genuine pleasure to hear two of Cassavetes' 'family' talk about working with the man. Both have excellent recall and hold forth on a multitude of subjects, including how John always got his own way; the challenges of recording sound onstage and offstage simultaneously; the lighting for that wonderful mirror scene and the possibility that Bette Davis may have ended up playing the Sarah Goode role. While it's speculated that Davis would possibly have been harder on Rowland's character that Joan Blondell was, rest assured JC would have had the last word.

This BFI release also has 'Memories Of John' (DVD disc) and 'Falk On Cassavetes' (DVD disc) and an illustrated booklet featuring interviews wit and essays from Tom Charity, Al Ruban and Peter Bogdanovich (who, along with Peter Falk, has a cameo at the end).

Some 35 years and change later, OPENING NIGHT remains an astonishing work, and it's a joy to see it in the best possible light. The Blu-ray is locked to Region B.

Curse Of The Crying Woman

This quick-off-the-mark Mexican homage to Mario Bava's Black Sunday wastes no time in creating a haunted world that, on its own terms, comes close to giving the Italians a run for their money.

As a coach bearing three travellers continues its journey through an eerie wood, a sightless woman, flanked by three hounds, silently bids her henchman to stop the coach and murder its occupants. Hell of an opening, and, for the viewer, things get even better when Emily (Rosita Arenas) arrives at her Aunt Thelma's spooky hacienda, a matter of hours before her 23rd birthday.

As one of the most renowned films from Churubusca Azteca Studios, The Curse Of The Crying Woman certainly lives up to its reputation, with Rita Macedo taking centre stage as the black magic woman who plans to use her niece to help resurrect one Marianne Lane - 'The Wailing Witch.'
Macebo and Arenas are both excellent here, pushing their compelling battle of wills to the limit, while Salazar (Emily's husband) and Moctezuma (Thelma's hired hand, rescued from the gallows) make for good opposing characters; the real deal, however, comes with some exceptionally unnerving special effects: haunted mirrors, decaying not-quite-dead bodies, Macedo's gobsmacking entrance through a window and a wonderful series of shots featuring satanic rituals, shot with negative film stock - think Benjamin Christenson meets Italian Gothic. Just a few of the highlights from a film which may have come under the scrutiny of a pre-Baron Blood Mario Bava and, possibly, Dario Argento: check out Inferno again and note not only the finale, but also certain dialogue similarities.

Unfortunately, the DVD from Casanegra is now out of print, but well worth the effort to track down.
The film has been remastered from newly restored vault elements, and contains a commentary track from Mexican Cinema expert Michael Liuzza. There's also a full colour booklet,with some terrific poster art and writing on the legend
of La Llorona.

The Bloody Vampire

Wanted: female servant for general duties in the residence of Count Seigfried Von Frankenhausen. Disappearance of previous employee necessitates immediate start. Pay to be negotiated. Living quarters provided.

In this particular case, 'living quarters' means a casket in Von Frankenhausen's underground cave, joining a macabre collection of females who were abducted by the Count (Agosti). While Frankenhausen keeps his new bride (Moss) firmly under lock and key, oblivious to his nocturnal hobby, his sworn enemy, Count Cagliostro (Raxel) agrees that daughter Anna (Palacios) should embark on a fact-finding mission as an undercover maid. Soon, Anna comes up against Frau Hildegarde (Bauman), the Count's loyal confidante, and can only rely on a dazed and confused manservant and a doubting Doctor, who possess all the intellect and logic of your average police inspector.

With a running time of 100 minutes, The Bloody Vampire threatens to outstay it's welcome on several occasions, with long, overly talkative passages containing little to hold the attention. A crying shame really, as the opening minutes promise so much, with a coach and horses silently gliding through woods, driven by a cloaked skeleton and only stopping to regard the body of a man hanging from a tree. The coach's arrival at the Frankenhausen abode - where Frau Hildegarde greets the occupants, surrounded by swirling mist - is, like the previous scene, reminiscent of Murnau's Nosferatu but that's where the comparison ends, leaving Agosti's Count to instigate sudden bursts of other-worldly menace, aided by some decent set designs which come alive as lightning flashes and shadows leap off walls.

Overall, there's just about enough here to repay the viewing time invested, and those with a benevolent sense of humour will love the straight-faced in-fighting between the Count, his wife and their servants; a Mexican version of 'Upstairs, Downstairs' with some rather sadistic torture scenes thrown in for good measure.

Oh yes, and you'll love the wonderful half-bat, half-rabbit creature near the end.

Sheila Whitaker. A Sad Loss

I was greatly saddened to learn that Sheila Whitaker passed away on Monday.
Sheila was head of programming at the National Film Theatre in London from 1984 to 1990, and director of the London Film Festival from 1987 to 1996.She also head of the National Film Archive collection of stills, posters and original designs
As a regular attendee at the festival, I had the pleasure of seeing Sheila introduce many screenings, and one memory sticks out in particular.

In 1996, David Cronenberg's Crash was due to be premiered at the London Film Festival. Unfortunately, a concerted press campaign had begun a day prior to the screening,calling for the film to be banned. Thankfully, the screening did take place, and Sheila introduced Crash, along with David Cronenberg, explaining she had encountered extreme pressure to pull the film but she fought for the right for us to make up our own minds on its merits.
Listening to her introductions and seeing her hold Q&A sessions with the cast and crew of many films, it was clear that Sheila absolutely loved her work.

In 2004, Sheila moved on to become Director Of International Programming at the Dubai International Film Festival for 9 years, and was looking forward to the 10th.
She served on international festival juries, who all benefited from her wealth of knowledge and experience and also found time to write for The Guardian, Observer and The Times. Sheila also edited and co-edited several publications - one devoted to women's writing and was awarded was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Letters (D.Litt) by the University of Newcastle and an Honorary Doctorate of Law by the University of Warwick.

The film world is a poorer place for her passing. My sincere condolences to family and friends.

Memories Of The Marquee Club, London

The Marquee Club. It was a legend long before I'd even dreamt of going to gigs, and drew tens of thousands of people to its main home at 90 Wardour Street, London. It would take me several weeks to list every band to tread those hallowed boards, but the likes of Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Ultravox, Sex Pistols, Joy Division, Iron Maiden, Led Zep, The Jam, Genesis and The Police are names that demonstrate the club played an important part in live music on the UK circuit.

The Marquee opened April 1958 in Oxford Street, and established itself as a live showcase for Jazz and R&B with Sonny Boy Williamson and Cyril Davies just a couple of artists to appear regularly. The Oxford Street tenure would last for 6 years, boasting The Rolling Stones and Muddy Waters amongst an increasingly impressive roster of acts. At the fag-end of 1963, club owner Harold Pendleton was given 6 months notice to find new premises by the building's owners. In March, 1964, the club relocated to nearby Wardour Street where it would remain for 24 years. '64 proved to be a pivotal year, with the opening of Marquee recording studios and a long residency by The Who announcing that London had a very important club for music lovers. Over the years, The Marquee played host to the Psychedelic Scene, Progressive Rock, Punk, Mod, Heavy Metal and chart-orientated acts, moving with the times while also casting an eye back to 'old friends' who would often drop in to play 'secret gigs'. Those of you wishing to read the full history of the club are directed to http://www.themarqueeclub.net/index.php which includes a year-by-year record of most of the gigs that took place there. I was lucky enough to take in scores of gigs there, and the rest of this piece contains some of my memories of this club.

When Punk reared its ugly head, my taste in live music underwent a real sea change. Up to then, I'd stayed firmly put, in and around my home county of Derbyshire, hooking up with friends to see rock bands such as Man, Budgie, Curved Air and Streetwalkers amongst others. Now, it was time to venture further afield; both geographically and musically. I'd read and awful lot about the London music scene in magazines. Sounds and the NME both painted an exciting picture of life in our capital city, with venues such as The Music Machine and The Nashville playing host to a never-ending succession of live acts. So, on 20th July 1977, I found myself London-bound to take in my first gig at The Marquee. I'd already gained a fair idea of finding my way around London via trips to follow my local football team, and had little difficulty in getting to Wardour Street. Before long, I caught sight of that famous exterior and joined a long line of punks queueing for tickets to see Generation X. While Billy Idol's mob were never really on my list of bands to see, I had little doubt that the gig would be a real experience; a feeling that proved to be entirely correct. Just before I entered the club, two doormen turned away a couple of rough-looking individuals who were apparently banned from the club for fighting at previous gigs. Obviously not a place for the faint-hearted but once inside, I immediately knew this was my sort of club.

After paying for my ticket, I soon located the bar where I had my first pint of Marquee watery beer in a plastic glass. From the bar area, I watched drum kits and mic stands being assembled, followed by Gen X running through a couple of numbers for their soundcheck. Soon, it was time to head out from the confined space of the bar and enjoy a tip-top set from The Lurkers. In truth, Howard Wall and his boys took the honours that evening, but my dislike of Gen X certainly receded as I watched them battle through their set under an assault of plastic beer glasses, cans and shower upon shower of spit. I'd already seen a good many bands walk off stage during the same type of audience abuse but Gen X never took a backward step. Respect!

So, my first visit to The Marquee was over but I already loved this small, ramshackle club with its sticky floor and cramped conditions; the bar at the back offering the chance of a quick queue for a drink for those disinclined to barge through the packed bodies en route to the main bar area, and a selection of hot & cold snacks just to line your stomach for the next alcoholic onslaught. With a capacity of roughly 300, the club often crammed in over three times as many, making the nickname of 'The Soho Sauna' entirely accurate. On many occasions, we were dripping sweat and I swear the walls were having much the same problem. Nobody seemed to mind though, and if anything, it added to the atmosphere. Over the years, I noticed the doormen actively contributing to the numbers of folks attending, ushering in extra punters upon receipt of a premium charge. Fortunately, I never had to pay over the odds, preferring to grab a ticket in the afternoon of any gig where I knew demand would exceed supply. Then, I'd sometimes call in at the nearby pub called The Ship where I spied Siouxsie Sioux holding court on a number of occasions. The Banshees were an absolute legend way before 'Hong Kong Garden' shattered the airwaves, and a piece of graffiti on the Marquee entrance wall remained for many months after their vinyl debut: 'SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES. SIGN THEM UP. DO IT NOW!' This impassioned plea greeted me on many occasions until I arrived there one night to find it gone, and with it went a part of the Marquee's character. I know the great lady herself visited the club as performer and audience member but I never saw her there. Lemmy from Motorhead, Phil Mogg, Joe Strummer, Phil Lynott, Howard Wall, Gaye Advert, Vic Goddard, Pete Shelley, Malcolm Owen, Paul Weller, Gene October and John Cooper Clarke were just a few of the faces I saw in the bar (the latter still looks much the same as he did 3 decades ago): a punk paparazzo's dream!

As far as crowd trouble was concerned, The Marquee was usually a hassle-free night out when compared to The Nashville or The Electric Ballroom. Sure, there were a few flare-ups but the only problem I ever encountered was at a Nine Below Zero gig when someone kicked me and tried to rip my watch from my wrist. A swift right hook to the jaw and he was down, leading to me facing the exit until an onlooker explained to the bouncers that I'd acted in self defence. The Marquee was actually safer than concert halls close to my home in Derbyshire, and I never felt threatened there. Over the years, I spent many, many enjoyable nights there and it remains my favourite venue for live music.

Years after the club shut down, there are still things I miss about my time there. The walk down Wardour Street, past film companies whose window displays were once home to posters for THE CHANGELING, CALIGULA and BLUE VELVET; past strip clubs and brothels where you really did quicken your step in case some over-zealous employee dragged you in, only for the doormen to relieve you of every penny you had, and then catching sight of the amusement arcade just down from Marquee on the right where fuck-knows who was hanging around outside in search of lost souls and their cash. Then, there are many memories of the club itself: the stage barely big enough to contain the band and equipment, the sights and sounds of the gathered masses drinking in the rock 'n' roll stench and finally departing the club in search of a good night's rest before doing it all over again the following evening. I honestly believe I would not be here now if I'd lived in London during the 70s and 80s but am glad I took the chance to visit on so many occasions during holidays from work.
In 1987, time caught up with 90 Wardour Street. A commission undertook a study of the premises and discovered that years of loud music had caused the facade of the building to slip towards the pavement. The last gig there was by Joe Satriani on 18th July 1988. The building was demolished , and it's place was occupied by a restaurant last time I ventured down Wardour Street. The Marquee re-opened in Charing Cross Road in the Summer of '88 and stayed put for 7 years. During that time, I took in several gigs there but it was simply not the same. Since then, The Marquee has re-appeared at several London locations and, at the moment, has ceased to exist. Apart from Charing X, I never bothered to seek it out. For me, it was over.

BFI Autumn Releases

This autumn the BFI will make available a superb collection of rare and previously unseen ghost and horror titles from the BBC archives.

Released as part of the BFI’s Gothic: The Dark Heart of Film celebrations, these long-unseen gems will delight many fans of British horror and classic TV drama.

Highlights in October include:

The legendary Play for Today drama Robin Redbreast (1970) – an unsettling tale of ‘folk horror’ that’s considered a precursor to 1973’s The Wicker Man
The three terrifying surviving episodes of the long-unseen 1972 ghost story anthology Dead of Night
Classic Ghost Stories (1986), five spine-tingling tales from the pen of M.R. James, presented by Robert Powell
An extended six-disc repackage of the best-selling BBC Ghost Stories for Christmas
Highlights in November include:

A Flipside presentation of the BBC’s Schalcken the Painter (1979). This highpoint of BBC arts filmmaking will be presented in High Definition from a rare 16mm source recently discovered in the BFI National Archive
The 1977 BBC gothic horror anthology Supernatural starring a host of British acting legends including Billie Whitelaw, Robert Hardy, Denholm Elliot and Jeremy Brett.

Other Gothic releases include:

A three-disc Dual Format special edition of Rupert Julian/Lon Chaney’s original The Phantom of the Opera (November 2013)
The BFI National Archive digital remastering of Thorold Dickinson’s dark psychological drama Gaslight (November 2013)
Scary Stories – a collection of creepy kids films from the Children’s Film Foundation featuring The Man from Nowhere, Haunters of the Deep and Out of the Darkness (September 2013).

October also sees the long-awaited Blu-ray premiere of Seven Samurai – presented as a steelbook exclusively at zavvi.com

Rescheduled releases for December include the Dual Format editions of Stromboli, Journey to Italy, Trans-Europ Express and Successive Slidings of Pleasure.

Titles are available to pre-order at all good internet retailers.