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Buster Keaton at The Imperial, N.B.

Posted on 2008.01.20 at 21:25


While traveling along the eastern seaboard last fall, Melissa found this newspaper clipping from Friday, January 4th 1924, promoting Buster Keaton's Three Ages at the Imperial Theatre in Saint-John, New Brunswick. Expecting the Imperial to have been yet another standard vaudeville hall-turned cinema with a hyperbolized name, I never bothered to look into it, until I stumbled across this picture of the now-restored interior, and wow - what a palace! The 1600 seat Imperial opened in the fall of 1913, and most likely offered a combination of vaudeville performances and silent films. While up-and-coming movie mogul and Saint-John, N.B.-raised Louis B. Mayer was not one of the owners, one of his close friends did end up managing the place upon its opening; one has to wonder what Mayer's influence, if any, had to do with the grand majestic allure of the place. In the 1950s, the building was purchased by a religious organization, but in the 1980s, the building was purchased after a  year-long fund-raiser by the city of Saint-John. It was restored to the same elegance it had known back in 1913, and officially opened in 1994. While it no longer shows them flickerin' images as it did that winter day back in 1924, it now serves as New Brunswick's grandest concert hall, following in the likes of Toronto's restored Pantages and Elgin Theatres.

Kodak Folding Pocket 3A

Posted on 2008.01.14 at 21:52

A number of months ago, I found this advertisement for the Kodak Folding Pocket 3A camera over at [info]papajoemambo's shop Dragon Lady Comics. It was pulled from a 1901 issue of Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, a well-known magazine of its day, famous for its short stories and poetry from the likes of Stephen Crane, Ellis Parker Butler, and Ambrose Bierce's long-time rival, Joaquin Miller. Popular Monthly was published from 1876 until 1906, when it was later known as American Illustrated Magazine. When Leslie died in 1880, his second wife, Miriam Florence Leslie, a noted feminist author, took over as publisher.

The first version of what was the be many different renditions of the No. 3 first appeared in 1900 and was still quite popular when it was discontinued in 1915. While the Brownie and other box cameras of the early 20th century typically went for a few dollars, it was not uncommon to pay that steep a price for a folding camera like the one above. I don't own one, nor have I ever found one at a camera show, although as nice as it is, I gotta say that it barely competes with my Kodak Pocket 1A.

The Public Enemy - Ken Films 8mm

Posted on 2007.12.30 at 23:33























A few weeks ago I gave the new bulb in my 8mm projector a test-run when I ran a condensed version of William Wellman's The Public Enemy, starring James Cagney and Jean Harlow. This film, alongside Little Caesar and Scarface, are the quintessential early gangster films, ripe with subtleties that would set the standard for later films of the genre. It was one of the first films to really capitalize on the new medium of sound: The scripts were laced with flashy, fast-talking dialogue, and you could hear the screeching tires and the ricocheting of the bullets.

Despite the sound, this is a very physical film. You have car chases, machine guns and knockout punches - perfect material for a silent film. Ken Films missed the point entirely and had the ten minutes of celluloid focusing on slow scenes of chatter. Over at Castle Films, the editors always seemed to be familiar with the source material and didn't try to stray too much, but it was typical of Ken Films to reinvent a film. Case in point with the omission of one the greatest lines in the script, mangled beyond recognition in the inter-titles. The original line, delivered by Cagney to Mae Clarke as he assaults her with a grapefruit right in the kisser: "There you go with that 'wishing' stuff again. I wish you was a wishing well, so that I could tie a bucket to you and sink you." To make things worse, when I saw that the family subplot with the mother was cut out, I knew I'd be disappointed with the finale. It would mean missing out on the greatest, most haunting moment in the film; when Tom Powers is 'delivered' to his mother.

I always felt bad for Jean Harlow in this film. She wasn't at the top of her game yet - like you'd later see in Dinner at Eight or Wife vs. Secretary. The "My poor, poor boy" sequence, featured in this digest, has always looked awkward, from the staging to her wooden reading of the script, but ya still gotta love her.

I have a whole other pile of Castle reels to get through - mostly 8mm Newsparades from the 1940s. Melissa and I sat through the 1945 reel, which was understandably full of sombre WWII footage. Let's hope the 1948-and-onwards reels are a little more optimistic

Kodascope 8 Advertisement

Posted on 2007.12.29 at 13:36

NECA's Dawn of the Dead Line

Posted on 2007.12.09 at 23:35


At my company's Christmas Party, I was given a gift card to The Silver Snail by a coworker (Thanks, Stafford!), and I immediately knew what I'd be dropping it on - the Hare Krishna Zombie from Dawn of The Dead, as part of NECA's Cult Classics line. He comes in his undead, tambourine-wielding greatness, and they even threw in a few cardboard boxes to recreate that great storage room atmosphere. I wonder if they'll keep expanding on the series - are we going to see machete-head zombie, nurse zombie, or maybe even Ken Foree's crazy ass?

NECA has been steady in their Cult Classics line from the very beginning, but another company has thrown their hat into the recent horror movie franchise line. Mezco has been hit or miss in the past, but I did like their "Silent Screamers" line from a number of years ago. I saw ads for their "Cinema of Fear" line in Rue Morgue Magazine a number of months ago and wasn't impressed with the cartoony, melted-wax look that many of their figures inherit. When I finally saw them in the store yesterday, I have to say they're on par with some of the NECA releases, with plenty of accessories and other goofy stuff. Of note is the Jason from Friday the 13th, Part III, and Freddy from A Nightmare on Elm Street, Part III.

Keystone 8mm Projector

Posted on 2007.10.26 at 12:15



I got my newly acquired Keystone K-100 8mm projector working a few nights ago. Manufactured in the late 50's, I had doubts as to whether or not it would function due to the internal gears being a little worn, but I figure it's nothing a can of WD-40 can't fix. After a quick test run, meaning, turning the projector on for the first time in god-knows-how-long and letting it get used to its new surroundings, I got the image to flicker. A DVD player I bought two years ago can barely get through an entire movie, yet this 50 year old mechanical wonder still displays a great, clean image, although accompanied by a loud, gear-churning, jackhammer-on-the-pavement noise. The next night, armed with a can of WD-40, I realized the gear churning noise came not from the worn gears, but from a rubber washer that had been dislodged. I put it back in place, and there ya have it - it works fine. The washer itself is a little lopsided, and it did fall off a few times, so I might have to find a replacement, but it got through a 200' reel without any problem! Aesthetically, the projector is quite wonderful. It's heavy, made-in-America solid, with not a plastic part in sight, but it's not a clunker like those green and black 16mm projectors the a/v guy would wheel into your class in grade 6. On the inside case is a film splicer and a threading instruction card. The guy I bought it from says he got it through the estate sale lot of a 90 year old man who'd recently passed away. I wonder what it was originally used for - home movies, cartoons, stag reels...

It's no big surprise the 8mm home movie market collapsed with the advent of the VCR. Threading one of these puppies requires a special kind of patience. I loaded a 50' reel of a Woody Woodpecker cartoon called The Great Magician (Castle Films - Headline Edition #502). It had no leader, and the title sequence was cut out, which disappointed me, because the Castle Films logo projected onto the wall is half the experience. Some of the later reels produced on Super8 had sound, but the earlier, silent Castle reels added their own intertitle cards to the digests, such as this one here. It gave me the chance to test out the various speeds of the projector, while still being cautious. I didn't want to fly her apart on her first trip out of spacedock. When I got to the end, the projector decided to protest its rude awakening and refused to rewind the film, leaving me to spool it by hand. I dropped it on the floor out of frustration, cue-ing the cats to chase after the runaway reel of celluloid. Such is my life, kids.

The next night, I threaded a 200' Abbott & Costello reel called No Indians, Please (Castle Films - Complete Edition #808). This reel had some leader, but by the time the film was threaded out to the takeup reel, the Castle Logo had gone over, but still got to see the opening credits. This digest contains a chase scene excised from A&C's 1942 Universal film Ride Em Cowboy, acting alongside comedy-team foil Douglas Dumbrille. While not featured in this digest, the film also featured Dorothy Dandridge and Ella Fitzgerald in small parts. Even though the projector is flickering the image without problem, it still isn't rewinding properly. I won't bother to tell you how long it took to spool it by hand.

The Keystone Mfg. Co., out of Boston, was incorporated in 1919, selling 16mm projectors (the economical 8mm format did not appear until the early 1930's). They began selling their equipment through a number of retailers, namely Sears Roebuck. The Keystone brand was bought out in 1965, and in 1991, the stock and brand names were bought by Concord Camera Corp. Their numbering system must have been a nightmare for corporate buyers and inventory staff. Some of the projectors were also sold by department stores like Macy's under different model numbers.

The best $2.99 I ever spent.

Posted on 2007.09.03 at 16:36


If I had a time machine, I'd go back to the 70's and write sitcom & movie novelizations.

Roscoe Arbuckle Sheet Music

Posted on 2007.08.21 at 20:08


On Sunday's visit to the Antique Market, I picked up the above copy of "Oh Helen!" with Roscoe Arbuckle on the cover. In the early 20th century, appearing on countless sheet music covers was a true testament to a movie star's popularity. However, I've only been able to find two featuring Arbuckle; the one above, and "Sipping Cider Through A Straw,", both published by Jos. L. Stein. Only finding two songsheets online does not mean others didn't exist. Nowadays, a Hollywood scandal boosts your career. The Hollywood of the 1920's was a different place, and after the scandal surrounding the death of actress Virginia Rappe erupted, Arbuckle, later acquitted of any wrongdoing, was blacklisted. He later directed films under the pseudonym William Gooderich, and in the late 20's, he directed and starred in six Vitaphone shorts. The Archive hosts a few of Arbuckle's short films, my favorite being The Butcher Boy, made in 1917 while at Paramount. It also features Buster Keaton's first appearance.

As for the song itself, "Oh Helen!" was first published in 1915, at a time when songs featuring stuttering characters was a popular fad. Not much is known about the songwriters, but Parlor Songs offers a quick writeup about the song, including a midi recording. It also appears to have been recorded by Sophie Tucker, and by Arthur Fields & Chorus in 1919.

More Kodak Brownie Cameras

Posted on 2007.08.18 at 16:42


Last week's excursion to the Sunday Antique Market proved pretty swell as I walked away with a couple of nice little cameras. Since picking up my first Brownie a few weeks ago, I did come across a heck of a lot of information about their variety, value, and availability, so I had a better idea what to look for. Melissa got me a Brownie Six-20 Junior, which has a spring-loaded, operational shutter, and a dusty, albeit clear viewfinder, which is the only non-working part on the Brownie Target Six-20 I picked up recently. It is missing its leather strap, although it doesn't hamper its look too severely. The Brownie Six-20 Junior was first manufactured in 1934, and although called the "junior", it is nearly twice the size of the later Brownie Target Six-20. It has one of the nicest Art Deco designs I've seen on a Brownie - a real statement of the period. It is by all accounts functional, and I did find a manual online.

The first camera pictured above has an interesting story. It is based on the No. 2 Hawkeye premium camera, and was released in 1930 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Eastman Kodak. Kodak produced 557 000 of these cameras, and were given free to any child who was 12 years old in 1930. All a child had to do was go to a Kodak dealer with a prent, show proof of age, and was given a free Brownie, and a roll of 120 film. [info]eloree , who was telling me about this camera before I came across it a few days later, mentioned about 30 000 were distributed in Canada, and I'd like to look into that some more, as most of the mentions I've found online focus on the Brownies given out south of the border. This site has another ad for the camera and an image of the original box. It must have been a significant event for depression-era children, but I've read no mention of the development being included as part of the gift. If that's the case, one can only wonder how many memories faded on the undeveloped film, knowing how cash-strapped most families were at the time. I like having this camera in my collection, knowing some little dude or dudette proudly walked around with it, taking snapshots of family, friends, and the neighborhood.

Chaplin's City Lights

Posted on 2007.08.09 at 00:30



After spending Saturday afternoon rummaging [1] through bins of old New Yorker magazines and dusty sleeves of long-abandoned sheet music, Melissa and I caught a double bill of Charles Chaplin's The Kid(1921) and City Lights (1931) at the Cinematheque Ontario. I've never been able to decide on a favorite Chaplin feature, but if you were to ask me which one I've seen most often, City Lights takes the prize, so I won't have much to say about The Kid here, which is a masterpiece in itself.

City Lights, Chaplin's fifth feature film, began production in March of 1928, just as talking pictures were becoming commonplace, and Chaplin felt immense pressure from his distributors and the movie-going public to release a sound film. Chaplin, ever so world weary, knew that by releasing a talking picture he would alienate his audience in the non-english speaking world. Moreover, some could say that he fell into a camp that believed talking pictures would not survive. He compromised (I use that term loosely - Chaplin was a man who had complete creative control over his art) by offering a beautifully nuanced, interactive score, flowing with the images in the way an ordinary silent film would not, and on top of that, the inclusion of the odd sound effect. In the opening sequence, the Tramp kills two birds with one stone, as he trumps both the establishment, and the Hollywood community with the inclusion of gibberish spoken by the white collar crowd. In a later scene, at the party hosted by the millionaire, he once again mocks the talkies, where a singer, about to entertain the party-goers, is constantly interrupted by Chaplin, who has swallowed a whistle and hiccups incessantly. Chaplin could milk a gag and keep innovating it - the hiccup could have been enough on its own, but no, Chaplin took it a step further by having it call all the neighboring dogs in to the party, ensuring that no song was to be sung and in effect keep this flicker entirely silent.

There are so many wonderful elements to this film, so many wonderful little scenes, and that makes it difficult to pick a favorite. Some Vaudeville staples, like the scenario with the millionaire, played by Harry Myers, where the suicidal businessman only recognizes Charlie as his best friend when he's drunk, yet has his butler escort him out of his mansion when sober. That gag had already been used by Chaplin himself, Laurel & Hardy, and Charley Chase, and it will still be funny one hundred years from now. The boxing scene with former Keystone alumni Hank Mann balances on a tightrope between pure slapstick and ballet. Chaplin had attempted this concept in 1915 while at Essanay, in a short called The Champion. Of all the amazing moments, one cannot deny that what really holds this film together; the Tramp's love for the blind flower girl, played by Virginia Cherrill. The final shot of the film, which Woody Allen would recreate in the finale of Manhattan several decades later, is held there until a slow fade-out drowns the screen with darkness, and the score undertakes its finale. It is one of the highlights, one of the top achievements of Chaplin's illustrious career.

Nothing really dates this film; It's pure emotion. It could take place anywhere and anytime. You're not saddled with the political baggage that would drive his later films like Modern Times, The Great Dictator, and A King in New York, and that is what makes this film such a timeless, innocent classic.

These films will always be around, but I think we take them for granted. We share a "I can see it any time" attitude brought about by the immediate accessibility of media in our day and age. With the state of revival cinema in Toronto being the way it is, we should be thankful we have the Cinematheque, and those who make it possible to see these films. I think the Cinematheque is my new favorite place on earth, and it really reminds us that a place like this is really where movies ought to be shown. Hearing people laugh and cry at a film made by a man, who, at the time of its release, was deemed old-fashioned, yet still has such an effect on theatre-goers after seventy-five years is quite a powerful legacy.


[1]I picked up about a half dozen New Yorker issues from the early 50's and a few from the early 40's. A few nice Peter Arno covers and a few Charles Addams cartoons were found inside, as well as some wonderful television, radio, and car ads. These Desoto and Packard ads from 1953 are now framed on a wall. As far as sheet music goes, Melissa and I spent over an hour flipping through tons of old tunes, and at a real bargain, I picked up "Sonny Boy" from The Singing Fool with Al Jolson, "Alabamy Bound" with Mr. Jolson again on the cover, and the Irving Berlin-penned "When My Dreams Come True," from the Marx Bros. film The Cocoanuts. Melissa got herself a Berlin tune, "Tell Me Little Gypsy", from the Ziegfeld Follies of 1920, and "The Shiek of Araby".

Kodak Brownie Target Six-20

Posted on 2007.08.07 at 17:18
On Sunday afternoon, Melissa and I visited the St-Lawrence Antique Market. When I lived here years ago, I checked it out once in a while, but I was always disgusted by the same socially inept vendors trying to hock the same crap nobody wanted to buy the week before. I gave it another shot this weekend and had a pleasant experience.

For purely aesthetic reasons, I've had my eye out for old radios and cameras, but not really knowing anything about their value, I've never made a purchase. I came across a vendor selling mainly books and military insignia who had a camera tucked in the corner of his table. I took a look at it long enough to get the sellers attention, who then told me they thought it was broken. The price tag, originally $20, was slashed to $10. Still unsure, I walked around the floor a little, and saw a few other vendors selling similar-looking cameras in the $30-$40 range. I went back to the first dude, offered him five dollars, and the camera was mine.

Since I wanted this camera simply to display it in our apartment, whether or not it was was broken wasn't much concern, but knowing I'd probably find an instruction manual for it online, I'd give it a shot. We did find one, and without having any 620 film to operate it, it does look like its in working order. According to this site, the camera was first manufactured in 1941 as the "Target Brownie Six-20". In 1946, it was reintroduced as the "Brownie Target Six-20", which is the one I picked up. It initially sold for $3.50. Gotta wonder how many old dusty photo albums and drawers still contain pictures that were developed because of this here puppy.

There were a number of other interesting items for sale at the Market on Sunday, including a neat collection of Hollywood cigarette cards, and a 1921 handbill for The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse from Massey Hall.

Le Sanctuaire du Très Saint Sacrement

Posted on 2007.02.09 at 22:21


One of the things I love the most about my job is the opportunity to visit historical sites throughout Quebec. Lately, I've spent most of my time on the island of Montreal, and earlier this week, I had a chance to visit le Sanctuaire du Très Saint Sacrement, on Mont-Royal avenue. I spend a fair amount of time on the Plateau, since my favorite french bookstore is located right across the street, so I walk by this place often enough.

The congregation of les Pères du Très Saint Sacrement was founded in Canada soon after the arrival of Father Albert Terniere in 1890. The building was designed by the architect Jean-Zéphirin Resther, who would later go on to design the Pensionnat Saint-Nom de Marie on Cote Ste-Catherine, among other buildings. This building, completed in 1894, consisted of a church at the centre, with two spacious chapels, the upper portion being the sanctuary, the lower portion being the crypt, and two wings: the right consisting of various studios and the left consisting of other studios and a small printing house. The sanctuary was decorated in 1898 and much of it remains intact today, including the pews. Not surprisingly, the studios and solemnic rooms, as well as the printing house have now been converted into office space for various community associations. In October of 2006, one of the smaller buildings behind the main construction was destroyed by an electrical fire.

While Montreal boasts hundreds of striking religious institutions, this one is of particular interest because of a few individuals connected to the first decade of its history. Eugene Seers (1864-1945), one of the founding fathers of the Montreal sect of les Pères du Très Saint Sacrement, ran the modest printing house, publishing Le Petit Messager du Très Saint Sacrement, the french-canadian counterpart to the edition published in Paris. Seers is now best-remembered under his alias Louis Dantin. Under this pseudonym he became one of the first serious literary critics in French Canada. He is also well known for his collaborative work with the doomed poet Emile Nelligan.

Dantin, circa 1938Seers, ordained in 1888, spent some time studying in Paris and Rome. After an intense crisis of faith which would return to plague him throughout the course of his life, he returned to Montreal in 1894. While religious imagery and themes were a constant source of his early writings, Seers, quite unothodox for its time, wrote beyond that spectrum, reflecting on many levels of art, culture, and politics. One of his first major critical essays, "Emile Nelligan et son oeuvre", was published in 1902 in the periodical Les Débats. Published over the course of seven issues of the periodical, Dantin introduced Nelligan to the world, which then led to the publication of Nelligan's first collection of poetry in 1904. While important, Dantin was criticised by later editors of Nelligan's work for not presenting certain poems in their original form, and for refusing to print other poems that would help frame the young poet's psychological profile. A near-complete collection of Nelligan's work wouldn't surface until 1952.

Prior to the publication of Emile Nelligan et son oeuvre, Dantin's crisis of faith overcame him, and he left the order of les Peres du Très Saint Sacrement, exiling himself in New England. There, he married, fathered a child, and founded numerous publications, small presses, and edited many periodicals over the next forty years. His critical work helped accept and introduce many francophone writers from North, Central, and South America. He also translated the work of anglophone writers. As a testament to his literary legacy, the prestigious critical editions wing of La Bibliotheque du Nouveau Monde have published wonderful editions of Emile Nelligan et son Oeuvre as well as two volumes of Dantin's critical essays.

In 1938, Seers, in correspondence with Louvigny de Montigny, once again declined de Montigny's offer to return to Canada: "Despite intimate friendships, what attraction could there be? How can I conceive of a Quebec which is frought with tyranny and intolerance, intent on barring, with nothing but obstacles, all avenues towards a better future? You are all free men, yet exiled, stranger to your own land than I am here in Boston!"(1.)

I spent about 45 minutes in the building, and after conducting business, got a tour of the installations. The sanctuary itself was a marvel to see, especially the pews, where as myth dictates, a young Nelligan would sometimes be caught sleeping under the bench. Robert Favreau's film Nelligan shows a scene where Seers escorts an mentally exhausted Nelligan out from the pews, but not before giving him some coins from the collection box. I can't recall ever reading such an admission in Dantin's works, but hey, it most certainly could have happened. I did venture to where the printing house once laid, but with the changes made to the offices, you'd never know that in 1898, this place once published (2.) a number of Nelligan's poems before his internment in a Longue-Pointe asylum in August of 1899.

While nobody was hurt, one of the downsides of the fire that occured a few months ago is that in the post-incendiary cleanup, a plaque commemorating the work of Eugene Seers was destroyed. It appears a new one will be erected before the end of the year.








1. Translated from: "Quel attrait (sauf celui d'amitiés precieuses) pourrait-on concevoir a un Québec voué aux plus tyrannique et plus sorts intolérances, occupé a barrer d'obstacles toutes les avenues d'un meilleur avenir? Vous y etes vous-memes commes tous les esprits libres, exilé, etranger plus que je ne suis a Boston!" Louis Dantin, Essais Critiques I, p.94. Les Presses de l'Université de Montreal

2. While Le Petit Messager du Très Saint Sacrement is one of the few places where Nelligan's works were published before his internment, it was not the first - his poem, "Reve Fantasque" appeared in the Montreal-based Le Samedi, June 13, 1896, under the pseudonym Emile Kovar.

3. The black & white image at the top left corner is of a celebration inside the Sanctuaire sometime in 1898. The image on the right-hand side is of Louis Dantin, circa 1938.

Music

Posted on 2007.01.31 at 16:20
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Last weekend, I met with a group of like-minded individuals. People who love to perform, create, and develop their music. I've been in situations like this before, but it just seemed so distant to me. Many moons ago - nearly a decade ago, before the boardroom meetings, before the office start-ups, before the flashy neckties, before the eventual corporate takeover of your main man over here, was a dude who lived and breathed music, day in day out. A dude who took shows on the road, performed alongside accomplished musicians, and who had his eyes, ears, and heart set on living this life to the fullest. All said and done, seven, eight, nine years have passed and the path this dude chose was slightly different from the one first undertaken, but that's fine - in fact I'm not writing this out of bitterness or regret. I'm remembering some wonderful experiences and I'm also realizing that it's not too late - that this isn't all so far behind me.

On Sunday night, we found ourselves invited by one of Melissa's friends to a get-together in the old loft district near St-Henri. After a little bit of how are you and what is your deal, someone took to the piano and started singing and playing a tune. Then another person took on a guitar and played something quiet and ya know, it was rather nice. After another Sondheim-esque performance, everybody had eyes set on me. The pressure was on. Melissa had let it slip that I'd spent some time training to be an opera singer, so they all wanted to hear a little something. Now let's get one thing straight - it's been years, no joke, since I'd even attempted to sing anything other than a novelty song from the 20's. It was also nearly impossible to even get me to show up to a rehearsed and scheduled performance back when I was singing (just ask [info]joedick ), so the chances of Eric getting up to sing an aria amidst a crowd of people he'd never met - not likely. So uh, I don't know if it was the wine, or the fact that I really wanted to impress my lady or something, but I got up there, and broke out into "Frondi Tenere/Ombra Mai Fu" by Handel. It's a piece which was on familiar ground, and there are pretty much like eight words repeated over and over so I knew I wouldn't mess that up (I still did kinda). But ya know,it didn't sound half bad. Some of those sixteenth notes could use some work, but overall the pitch was there, and the sound certainly carried well in that wide open loft space. It felt great, and it seemed the folks genuinely enjoyed it. Prior to last weekend, I'd already promised myself I'd record two new songs a month to offer here on my blog, and yeah, that's in the works, so stay tuned.

My whole point here, what I'm trying to share, is that this one evening, this one song, brought me back to a place of creativity and expression that I really hadn't experienced since I lived in Ottawa, where I felt part of a coalition of up-and-coming franco-ontarian songwriters, performers, whatever-the-case. We were trying to pull out off a 21st century version of CANO (minus the hippie bullshit). One of the last things I did there was a series of recordings in a pretty state-of-the-art recording studio. I'd like to share one of them with you today. It's a little different from all the Kahn/Arlen-type songs I've put up here in the past, but it shows my voice at a time when I was doin' a lot of singin'. It's the Gethsemane type song from the rock opera Starmania - the whole "why me? why did she have to die for me!"-type whiney song you hear in every musical, and it was kinda "my song" for any audition I would do at the time. I'm backed by Matthieu Saindon on the keys and Angie Russell on guitar. Thanks for reading, cats.

S.O.S. d'un terrien en detresse (2:58, MP3, 128kbps, 2.71mb)
(Music/Words by Luc Plamondon/Michel Berger, Performed by Eric V.)

(Above image of what I believe is Notre-Dame St. in Old Montreal was taken from this website.)

Classics of German Sound Films 1930-1945

Posted on 2007.01.28 at 11:45




While I've often lamented the death, or rather, dormancy, of the repertory cinema, I've ignored the fact that there are still outlets that show classic film. On Friday evening, Melissa and I attended a screening of Fritz Lang's M(1931) at The Goethe Institute, as part of their ongoing programme of early German sound films.

Since many studios of the late 20's and early 30's used sound as pure gimmick, very few early talkies used the new medium to their full potential. William Wellman and Mervin Leroy helped establish the gangster genre, flush with colourful dialogue, the sound of ricocheting bullets, and the almost cartoonlike voicings of Edward G. Robinson and James Cagney. That same year, Lang, already established as an innovator with films like Metropolis, gave us the leitmotif, associating a character or an event with music. In this case, the child-murderer, played by Peter Lorre, whistles the theme to Grieg's "In The Hall of the Mountain King", giving us an inkling of what's to come.

The print we saw on Friday was part of The Goethe Institute's archives, which was cause for concern. There are a few really great prints of M circulating around, and I was hoping something had been loaned out, but it could have been worse. The first reel was rather clean, but the second and third reels had some noticeable damage. The other frustrating thing about the print was the considerable lack of subtitles. Having seen it before, I was familiar with the story, and as an early sound film, much of everything is given away through the performances, but this film is laden with dialogue. I'm sure I missed out on something here and there. Nevertheless, since I've had the opprtunity to watch many Warner, MGM, and RKO film noir over the last year, I took the screening as an opportunity to observe some things that would later influence the genre on a stylistic level.

It appears The Goethe Insitute will be showing these early sound films until the end of March. The only thing that made this event rather unpleasant was the lack of tact in the audience. I rarely go see any first-run films anymore because people clearly do not know how to shut up while a movie is playing. I figured this type of event would attract a certain clientele that is interested in seeing the film, but no: I found myself shaking my head as people all around me discussed the film at an audible level, the worst being the douchebag behind me who felt it important the he explain the social context of Germany at the time the film was made. Yes, I'm pretty sure most people in attendance knew the Nazis were just getting warmed up and that this film is a response to the disorder this was creating in German society, but if I wanted to hear that, there's a commentary on the Criterion disc. Sorry for ranting.

Despite the audience, I still have faith in this programme, and expect to attend a few more screenings over the next month. Having missed The Blue Angel a few weeks ago (Melissa and I only learned of this series after finding the schedule at La Boite Noire early last week), I wouldn't mind checking out Der Kaiser von Kalifornien, a western, recounting the life of John Sutter, who founded a colony on the site of the future California Gold Rush of the late 1840's. On the 29th of March, the final screening will be of Herbert Selpin and Werner Klinger's Titanic, a piece of anti-British propaganda that was actually banned in Germany upon its release. Kino put out a wonderful print of this film a few years ago.

I'm glad we took the initiative and went out to see M, and I hope to continue attending these programmes. La Cinematheque Quebecoise is also offering an interesting series over the next couple of months. In March there will be three screenings of early Disney cartoons, starting with the early Alice films, the Silly Symphonies, and early Mickey Mouse. Who knows, maybe this will inspire me to get off my ass and actually find a venue to programme a series myself.

Record Stores

Posted on 2007.01.06 at 13:09

Martin Kettle writes about the demise of Tower Records in Thursday's edition of The Guardian: "All lovers of sound should be mourning the demise of America's last major music store". Why should we mourn a store which had hyper-inflated prices, poorly organized departments, and unknowledgeable staff? I can't speak much for the US stores, as I only visited the Tower Records in NYC once, in August of 2001. The Tower store in Toronto, a two-story beast of "where the hell can I find the jazz dept?" closed a month later, in September of 2001.

The times are changing and it was up to Tower to adapt to the new climate of the online world. I admit, it musn't be easy - in my recent trip to Toronto, I went out to Bloor West's "CD Alley", a three block strip between Spadina and Bathurst, only to find that a few of my favorite shops had closed down. Second Spin, a former haunt of mine, had been reduced to a skeleton of its former self. That's just the way it is now.

What bothers me about this article is this curmedgeon statement: "I'm simply talking about the wonder of discovery. My generation learned an awful lot about music by browsing records in stores. It was both solitary and sociable... But what about the piece or the genre you didn't know about until you started browsing through the records in places like Tower? How are you going to learn about Hindemith or Art Tatum if you don't know about them already?". Who says one can't do that without a record store? Has this guy ever spent a minute on a band or artist's mailing list?

Until a few years ago, I was quite active in buying CDs*. I spent a lot of time in record shops, socializing, discovering new things, but the truth is that most recommendations, most of the long-lasting discoveries I've made over the years have come from things I've learned online. Mingus, Jandek, Naked City, Wanda Jackson, Folkways, I could go on for hours.

Alright, I'll bite: in the 60's and 70's, you didn't have wikipedia and usenet to tell you about this new Zappa bootleg, but we now have access to information at our fingertips, and I've gotten used to this. Spend an hour on AllMusicGuide, Wikipedia, or whatever, and you'll learn more about Art Tatum than some snobby record store clerk will ever be able to tell you. Then, you'll go back and discover how wonderful those Prestige Fats Waller recordings sounded. The content is there, kids. You can learn whatever you want. Then you can listen to whatever you want.

*I must admit that I just don't listen to much of anything anymore. I've got my treo currently stocked full of Johnny Cash, Stompin Tom Connors, Janet Klein, and Velvet Underground mp3s, but I really can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a complete record - something I used to do quite often a number of years ago. My return to comic books monopolized most of my free time this year, so I'll blame it on that.

Tarzan Triumphs

Posted on 2006.12.11 at 00:52

Melissa offered me an early Christmas present tonight, which turned out to be Warner Bros. The Tarzan Collection, Vol.2. This three-disc set features Johnny Weissmuller's six final appearances as Tarzan - Tarzan Triumphs, Tarzan's Desert Mystery, Tarzan and the Amazons, Tarzan and the Leopard Woman, Tarzan and the Huntress, and Tarzan and the Mermaids. After Tarzan's New York Adventure, the MGM series had lost full steam, so RKO snapped up the rights to the series and gave it a shot in the arm. Along with the rights came Weissmuller, and Johnny Sheffield, who would reprise his role as Boy. Maureen O'Sullivan, who was on contract at MGM, does not appear in these films - her displeasure with the later entries in the MGM franchise has been well documented. Another curious difference is Tarzan's yell, which had been copyrighted by MGM. Weissmuller used a different version in these films.

A few hours ago I watched Tarzan Triumphs, and would actually rate it higher than some of the later MGM films. While far from being a poverty-row studio, RKO still knew how to make things on the cheap, or perhaps they still hadn't recovered from Citizen Kane. Plenty of mismatched stock-footage makes the cut, and the slick style of Richard Thorpe is nowhere to be found. Set in the midst of World War II, a bunch of inept Nazi soldiers drop in on Tarzan's jungle territory, intent on finding the necessary minerals to keep their war running. While they don't pose a direct threat to the isolationist Tarzan, he does not mix into their business. However, that all changes once Boy is kidnapped, prompting Weissmuller to jump into his first outburst of emotion since Jane got that spear in the back a few movies ago. "Now, Tarzan make war."

I'll warn you that despite the film's short, 76 minute running time, nothing really happens until the last fifteen minutes, but this, my friends, is worth the wait. Tarzan wages on a full fledged massacre on the Nazi crew, who at this point have enslaved an entire native village to carry out their dirty work. I don't remember any of the MGM films being this violent (Uh, except on the natives in the first films), but in the end, when Boy is rescued and the villagers freed, Cheetah has the last laugh. You'll probably rewind the last twenty seconds of the film a few times before having enough of it.

This is the first Weissmuller film without the Jane character. In a letter to Boy, it is explained that Jane has gone back to London to care for her ailing mother. Later on, you wonder if the screenwriter has forgotten about Jane altogether as Boy tempts Tarzan to make a wife of Zandra, a local native. "She can cook for us every day!" That, along with a few Tarzan/Boy shots that would bring to mind Frederic Wertham's Batman & Robin theories, make for a few of the awkward moments of the film

There's a toy shop on the south shore near Montreal that I visit once in a while. It's a bit out of the way, so when my business takes me to that neck of the woods, I take advantage of it and see if they've got any new stuff. As is the case with most of these shops, it's mostly a lot of crap that's been gathering dust for years. Aside from some newer DC Direct and Marvel Legends stuff, he's got some old Mego and GI Joe toys, and a crapload of vintage Star Wars stuff at overinflated prices. While scanning the aisle where he keeps the Sideshow Toys Universal Monsters stuff, I spot the amazing Freddy Krueger doll you see above. I've never actually seen one of these in person. Every impulse in my body pushed me towards the cash register with the box in hand, but I managed to fight it. The owner refused to budge off the $75 sticker price, and as much as I like Freddy, I just couldn't do it.

By the late-80's, everyone's favorite undead, Cosby-sweater-wearin' pederast ended up with his own syndicated TV series. Naturally, New Line figured this was an ingenius marketing opportunity, and licensed its star shock-to-schlock property all over the place. X-E Entertainment has a great article about some of the other licensed Freddy gems from that era. Matchbox was licensed to produce a Freddy Krueger doll for their new "Maxx FX" line, which was kinda like the Captain Action figures that'd been real popular with the kids in the 60's and the 70's. Despite his popularity at the time, monster toys in general weren't very popular in the 1980's, and you had it even tougher if you were a sadistic serial killer. It appears the product was recalled and removed from the shelves. The back of the box featured the other figures available in the same collection: Dracula, Frankenstein, and Alien. Due to the recall of the Freddy figure, these other figures were never produced, which is a shame, cause they were pretty rad.

Plastic Passion: Mattel Secret Wars

Posted on 2006.08.17 at 23:00

I realize these Secret Wars posts are becoming rather redundant, but allow me to share the awesomeness of receiving this trio of 80's Mattel goodness earlier this week. Daredevil is a rather easy find, but despite a tiny nick of paint on his emblem, he is one of the cleanest figures I've ever seen. He's even impervious to the unfortunate 'bleeding' for which this figure is commonly known. Most of the figures from the first and second series all came with a similar interchangeable pistol, so completing a loose figure is pretty easy. However, The Hobgoblin's glider and The Falcon's wings and pet Redwing are unique, so finding them complete was a treat. Not only were all the shield inserts included, but I also managed to get their respective bio cards. These guys are pretty boss.


Plastic Passion: Kenner Star Wars Mini-Rigs

Posted on 2006.07.29 at 00:58


One of the many reasons why Kenner's Star Wars line revolutionized the toy industry is that by releasing as many vehicles, playsets and figures, it made it possible to recreate every sequence of the trilogy. Kids wanted to recreate Hoth? Get yourself the Probot/Turret playset, a Tauntaun, a Wampa, and yer all set. Going beyond that, Kenner developed a line of smaller vehicles known as "Mini-Rigs". These vehicles weren't necessarily seen in the films, but were variations of larger vehicles, or vehicles which could easily have made it into the movies.

Another reason for releasing the Mini-Rigs is that they would be at a middle price-point between the action figures and the larger vehicles and playsets. This page from the 1983 Sears Wishbook has them priced at $9.99, and one of my Return of the Jedi boxes has a Consumers Distributing tag at $7.99. This was ideal for parents who didn't want to, or simply couldn't dish out $40.00 for the Millenium Falcon playset. So for a much smaller sum, you could end up with a Han Solo figure, and a smaller Mini-Rig, and be as happy as a clam.

Five Mini-Rigs were initially released on Empire Strikes Back boxes, and four more followed on Return of the Jedi cards a few years later. This website claims they were only released in Canada, but I'm sure they were released in the U.S. with American packaging as well - they'd be worth much more today if they'd been a Canadian exclusive. Since James McCallum's book on Canadian Star Wars toys makes no mention of it, I'll side with the latter [edit: [info]stanleylieber  has confirmed my suspicion].

The Desert Sail Skiff from Return of the Jedi was a rather inexpensive way to recreate the Tatooine scene, and the ISP-6 was a smaller version of Darth Vader's Imperial Shuttle. Below are images from my personal collection. My Star Wars collection is probably the largest chunk of my stuff, but I've taken a serious break from the stuff and haven't added anything in nearly a year and a half. If you're a completist, you really have to learn to draw the line. When collecting vintage Star Wars, you have to decide what it is you're interested in gathering- MOC 12-backs, loose figures, whatever. If not, you end up grabbing everything in sight. I have a dozen or so carded figures, but I've mainly focused on completing a full set of loose figures. I'm only missing a half dozen from the first three films.




Contents: Freedom Fighter tm, mobile, rotating/attack vehicle with helicopter pad, turrets, and
secret compartment, plus secret shield tm with secret messages! ASSEMBLY REQUIRED!


This wonderful hulk of solid plastics arrived in the mail today. Not only did it arrive quickly, but it also arrived in a sealed, never-been-opened-ever-before box. One of the main reasons why I collect toys is for simple nostalgia. I collect other things for which I may not have a serious amount of sentimental attachment, but for toys, I can most likely link a childhood memory to the majority of the items in my collection.


Scroll your mouse over the images for more information

These memories are why I was so excited to find this item sealed (and for $8!). Y'see, when I was four, my grandmother bought my cousin and I the Tower of Doom and a Decepticon voice modulator thing for Christmas. For my following birthday, I got the Tower of Doom's hero counterpart: The Freedom Fighter. So I cracked this sucka open, and got that fun feeling of being a kid again and assembling a playset. The inside of the box had been waiting for this moment for nearly 22 years. The cardboard divider nearly jumped out at me. I pulled out the sticker sheet, and carefully applied each and every one of them. I was glad to learn my sticker-application skills hadn't diminished since the late-80's, cause we all know that a shoddy sticker-job can make or break a playset. Don't believe me? Ask my brother about the time we hastily put the stickers on his Turtle Van. The way he shakes his head, you'd think the poor bastard is reminiscing about the Great War.

So once the whole thing was assembled, I put it up on the shelf where I keep my Secret Wars toys, and marveled at how... incredibly lame and crappy this thing is. Seriously, kids. It's a freakin' helipad with an old satellite dish on it. I thought it was lame then and I still think so now. This thing wouldn't have lasted two minutes against Castle Grayskull. I mean, Mr. T was sittin' in the A-Team van, laughing his ass off at when this thing joined my room as a kid. I'm hoping things are a little more refined now, but, no: that Stormtrooper up on top in the Star Destroyer is laughing his empire-lovin' ass off. You'd think the boys at Mattel could've given the World's Mightiest Mortals a good run for their money against Dr. Doom's Tower of Doom. The TOD came with a trap door, a sliding chair, a jail, and frickin lasers. You think they could've taken a clue from Kenner and offered them some sort of fortress. Even the Hall of Justice had a helipad on it. AND a jail.




The other thing that was annoying about this playset was that since it didn't do much, you needed to further accessorize it by getting Cap's Turbo Copter, so that you'd actually have something to land on it. It was kinda like when you saw Back to the Future Part II, and realized it was just a big commercial for Part III, and you go "aw fer crying out loud". Good thing they had hoverboards in that one. I digress. The "secret" compartment, unlocked by using the red hero shield, opens up, and you can hide your collection of "secret messages". Twenty years later, I still haven't gotten it.

Another recent find was a mint Captain America, fresh off the card. Never meant to have lasted twenty-plus years, the glue on the blister had come undone, so naturally the loose figure was in perfect shape. The red stripes on his torso and the 'A' on his mask rub off so easily, so I'm happy with this one. One thing I've noticed is that the boots are a much darker shade of red than his gloves, which makes me wonder if Cap has been victim to the same 'bleeding' of colors for which Daredevil is well known. This is the first I've seen of it. So having recently aquired Hobgoblin, The Falcon, and Daredevil, I'm now only missing Iron Man, Wolverine, and Spidey in the black costume. I still don't have the Tower of Doom, but I'll find it at a decent price sometime in the near future. That one understandably tends to run at a higher price.



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