The Stuff (1985)
This
white fluid bubbles up from out of the earth and is swiftly marketed
as the next best thing to ice cream; and it's wildly popular, though
of course it is really some kind of body-snatching alien organism.
But, helped along by a massively successful advertising campaign
('Enough is never enough of The Stuff!') it soon knows all the right
people, leaving only a few semi-deranged misfits, including a
renegade Right-Wing colonel and a small boy, to fight it.
Over
the years writer-director Larry Cohen has had some very good ideas,
and here's another: worthy of Nigel Kneale, I'd go so far as to say.
The execution, however, might have benefited from a more considered
approach – this feels like it was made up as it went along, and not
in a good way. Even the usually reliable Michael Moriarty seems to be
floundering. Still – a bland white gloop that hollows people out
from the inside and turns them into puppets – if there's a better
metaphor for capitalism, I haven't been told about it. I'm surprised
that the capitalist system even permitted the film to be made. Maybe
this is why they had to rush it. Get it in the can before They
noticed.
In
a nod to Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, Moriarty convinces
the fascist colonel to help him by telling him the Stuff is part of a
Communist plot – talking of which, I watched this DVD while
consuming (as if for effect) a big tub of 'Russian Fudge' yogurt.
'Live' yogurt. Hmm, I had no idea that the Russians were famous for
their fudge – but I can only suppose that their gift shops are full
of it. Either that or its a euphemism for something. I continue to
await side effects.
Return
Of The Killer Tomatoes (1988)
Discovered
in the same box set as The Stuff – a collection presumably
themed around zany critiques of capitalism. Or disappointment.
Because,
even though my expectations were low (despite my never having seen
Attack Of the Killer Tomatoes), this film was still a
let-down. It doesn't even feature any killer tomatoes, just
bodybuilders in combat gear purporting to be 'tomato-men'.
But
it does feature George Clooney, in an early role, playing the hero's
best friend. He is given the task – because this is the kind of
knowing 'comedy' that likes to acknowledge its own limitations, as if
they were a joke in themselves – of suggesting, when the film's
budget suddenly runs out mid-scene, that the makers turn to product
placement. Cue gags in which boxes of corn flakes move into the
foreground, obscuring the actors. In fact, the film's best joke is
one that nobody at the time could have understood – that Clooney,
the advocate of product placement, would turn out to be the product
itself. There are even two scenes in which Clooney is posed against
movie posters prominently featuring big Hollywood stars: James
Stewart, Robert de Niro. This takes 'knowing' to a whole new level. Especially as there is little in Clooney's performance here to suggest that he wouldn't sink without trace.
Apart
from this the highlight is perhaps the 'Love Theme', which could
almost pass for the real cheesy thing if you cocked half an ear
towards it, and which features, I think, the lines: 'Like a
child without a care/Touch me there.'
Come And See
The
other DVD in this box set is Night Of the Living Dead.
The inclusion of a bona fide
classic in this company is the strangest thing of all. I can't deal
with it, so let's do something else instead.
I
went to see Come And See, the Chapman Brothers retrospective
at the Serpentine Sackler Gallery (Come And See is a film too,
but I haven't seen it yet). There was also a film going on here,
starring Rhys Ifans and David Thewlis, but the best that can be said
about that is that it provided an intriguing soundtrack to the
exhibit – actually seeing it proved to be a mistake. Although you
got the opportunity to sit next to a dummy in a KKK outfit (with
rainbow socks and sandals). These fake punters were all over the
place, peering at the artworks, which were all, unlike the film, well
worth a look.
Essentially
the Chapmans have the sensibilities of morbid little boys, overlaid
with a veneer of irony – no wonder I like them. If I'd known at the
age of ten that I could make millions by creating dioramas of plastic
dinosaurs being eviscerated by Nazi skeletons, I'd have had a career
path mapped out for me. There was a post-apocalyptic feel to this
exhibit, but a celebratory one - and why wouldn't we be glad
that the apocalypse is over? My favourite things were the glazed
pottery 'machines' featuring brains and penises in their workings.
There's nothing noble about the act of creation, we are made to
realise – it's something sordid and sleazy, like masturbation.
Again:
if only I'd known!
