There was a discussion the other day about weird movies.
I’m okay with weird movies, but they’ve got to be more than just weird.
I’ve only seen a couple of these films (and a couple of honorable mentions). I enjoyed “Being John Malkovich” and was okay with, but didn’t love, “Brazil.” They didn’t even mention “Liquid Sky.” I’m not recommending “Liquid Sky,” mind you, just mentioning that it’s on my list of weird movies I’ve seen. It’s the first one that comes to mind when you say weird movies.
You know what else is weird? That we turn all of you loose about this time each night. Yep, we let you run the asylum for the remainder of the evening. You get to pick the topics, you control the conversation. It’s Wednesday Night Open Thread.
Who wants to start?
I guess I’m pretty risk-averse, because the ONLY film from that list that I have seen was the “honorable mention” Rocky Horror Picture Show, and that is only because I went to law school in Berkeley, where a local theater showed the film every Thursday night, for a sing-along; a friend dragged me along and assured me it would be fun, fun, fun. The entire audience (apart from me) could recite every word of dialogue, and did.
I did read Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when I was younger and less aware of just how precious few hours I had in my life to waste on self-important existentialist cr@p. I also read William S. Burroughs’ novel Naked Lunch – more hours of my life I will never get back. I don’t understand the fascination with the delusional, self-destructive, and outwardly-destructive behavior of addicts and drunks. I am not in any way tempted to see the film adaptations of these books. Gah, just thinking about them makes me want to cleanse my mind with some Jane Austen. Excuse me, I’m going to get my Kindle now . . .
Love Jane Austen.
Have you read Kipling’s “The Janeites”?
You can find it free on the web.
I’ll read it tonight. I read quite a lot of Kipling in my younger days, but not that. Thanks for the heads up.
“Yep, we let you run the asylum for the remainder of the evening.”
Basil, Crabby is injecting too much rationality into the conversation. What kind of asylum is this?
Love your writing, Crabby.
Okay, how about a discussion of irrationality?
“Fear of serious injury alone cannot justify oppression of free speech and assembly. Men feared witches and burnt women. It is the function of speech to free men from the bondage of irrational fears.” Louis D. Brandeis
I saw Liquid Sky in the theater. Twice.
Once was enough for Eraserhead.
Repulsion would make my list.
If you’re looking for something fun and unusual, try Delicatessen. It is subtitled, but like many good French films, it has little dialogue. The story is told mostly through visuals.
Pink Flamingos ain’t weird, it’s the most sick, twisted, demented, disturbing movie with every perversion you can think of and a few you can’t.
It’s the kind of movie you don’t tell people you’ve seen.
Other John Waters movies are weird, like Female Trouble, but Pink Flamingos is way past weird. That’s like saying North Korea is weird.
I mean, sure, but…
Mondo New York is a weird movie. It’s a guy traveling around the late 80s Greenwich Village night club and performance art scene with a video camera.
Now that’s weird.
Today is Frank Lloyd Wright’s birthday! He was born June 8, 1867 in Richland Center, Wisconsin (you can ask Harvey where that is; he’s from Wisconsin). His house and studio in Oak Park, Illinois, where, going from the sublime to the ridiculous, Ernest Hemingway and Kathy Griffin were born, and where I went to high school (not the same one that they attended), is well worth a visit. Just be sure you get your ticket in advance.
If you so desire, you can go over to youtube and listen to Paul Desmond’s absolutely sublime performance of Paul Simon’s “So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright”.
I toured Fallingwater once with a friend who lives in Pennsylvania – stunning from the outside, cramped, smelly (the whole place smelled like mold), claustrophobic, industrial, unwelcoming, uncomfortable, and depressing on the inside. You’d have to pay me to live there, and even then I don’t think I could stick it for more than a month. (How could it have felt cramped with those large, open rooms? Low ceilings, and deliberately narrow hallways.) It felt like a display piece – an unfinished one at that – and not a home.
You may now commence mauling my poor taste. (I have super-excellent taste. It’s all in my tongue, unfortunately.)
I saw the last half of an incredibly strange movie last week from 1967 called “The Day the Fishes Came Out”, with a very young (and startlingly hot) 23 year old Candice Bergen in it. It was a cinematic equivalent of “This is your Brain on Drugs” crossbred with the costume designs from Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in.
Weird stuff!
and people think Lebowski is weird…