Recommended Reading: Mickey Rooney, Tilda Swinton is Not Quite of This World, 47 Dead Films, Ebert on Criticism and more
Tim Doyle was asked by Matt Dye of Blunt Graffix to create a poster for the Bijou Metro’s screening of Robocop!
From Doyle- “Robocop is by far one of the most influential films in my little life. I saw it in the theater in 1987 when I was merely 10 years old, and it completely rewired my brain in new and dark ways. And I thank Paul Verhoven for it every single day of my life. Listening to Verhoven’s commentary, he pointed out that for him- Robocop is a Jesus allegory, calling it ‘The American Jesus.’ And in keeping with great American traditions, this Titanium Jesus raises from the grave not for forgiveness, but for revenge. It’s a bloody mess, and brilliant social satire that has yet to be eclipsed in my opinion. The design is obviously lifted from Dali’s Crucifixion Hypercubus- my favorite film meets my favorite Crucifixion depiction. Two great tastes that go great together.”
“There’s a scene roughly three quarters of the way through the film Eldorado – a British made horror-stroke-western-stroke-musical released in 2012 – that really stands out. It features comic Rik Mayall as Chef Mario, a mustachioed cannibal cook, prancing gaily around a dark, blood-splattered kitchen while vaguely lip-synching to a recording of Verdi’s La Traviata.”
“In 1938, Superman debuted in Action Comics #1 and sparked the Golden Age of Comic Books. It took just three years for a writer to infuse some potent feminist influence into comic books with the arrival of Wonder Woman in 1941. She wasn’t just any female superhero, but one of the elite — an essential part of D.C.’s holy trinity, along with Batman and Superman.”
“Polanski proposed a film adaptation of the play to Beckett, who politely refused to allow it. Beckett insisted that the play was not cinematic material and that an adaptation would destroy it. He asked for Polanski’s forgiveness and that the director not dismiss him as a “purist bastard.”
“It was well before eight on a Thursday in March, and onstage at Joe’s Pub, cocktail in hand and wearing a pleated lavender dress, was Justin Vivian Bond, the post-gender cabaret performer and a good friend to the better known. “When I was younger, I never drank gin, because it would make me mean,” Bond drawled. “But now I’m older and I can’t tell the difference.” Earlier, Bond had joked about how a performance at that twilight hour at Joe’s Pub is a “matinée,” and swung into what seemed to be the evening’s theme song about “night people”: “Before the sun, can spoil the fun … we’re night people.” Then Tilda Swinton walked in, perhaps the ultimate night-people hero. She was, in fact, a bit late, coming from a taping of Late Night With Seth Meyers, where she was promoting a vampire movie, a very stylish one, Only Lovers Left Alive, which the director Jim Jarmusch had made with her and in some ways about her. Or about the two of them, since the movie is a portrait of an ageless haute-bohème pair who live in a perpetual state of artistic and philosophical vanguard glamour.”
He sings! He dances! He does dramatic work! He does imitations! He plays the drums! He gets the girls! Watch out, here he comes, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and take a peek at the longest career in show business, ninety-one years or so! According to his puckish autobiography, Life Is Too Short (1991), Mickey Rooney made his first appearance on a vaudeville stage when he was seventeen months old. A pint-sized veteran at the age of five, Rooney was a profane little tough guy, brazen and vulgar and filled with demonic energy. He started making comedy silent shorts under the name Mickey McGuire when he was seven years old, churning out over sixty of them up to 1934. Before he signed with MGM in 1933, studio head Louis B. Mayer had told his mother, “Mickey McGuire is a has-been.”