Tag: 1970s

Personas: Running from Valentine – David Bowie’s Other Egos

2C Valentine

As Lazarus prepares to open in Amsterdam, a glimpse at one of David Bowie’s most fascinating, incendiary and final creations. The enigmatic Valentine swooped in an unassuming fashion before seizing a supernatural life of his own and linking the reality with fiction…. (contains some spoilers for the musical Lazarus)

Valentine’s Day is Perennial…

DAVID BOWIE’S LAZARUS RETREATED FROM LONDON IN JANUARY 2017, CLOSING THE CURTAIN ON THE SECOND MAJOR LEG OF HIS FINAL WORK. Following popular runs on both sides of the Atlantic, the musical is shortly heading to Amsterdam, proving unlikely to disappear as the anniversary of Bowie’s death reaches its fourth year. It could never really disappear. For one, its interwoven into the final months of its enigmatic creator, whose final public appearance was at its Off-Broadway premiere in December 2015. That Bowie died just two days after the release of his 25th album, Blackstar, was only matched in horrific coincidence by the Lazarus cast recording being scheduled for the day the news broke.

Recording Days

Of course it’s much more complicated than that.

When the cast recording surfaced in October 2016, it laid a further – you can never say final – strand of Bowie’s final interwoven works. Attached to it were three final Bowie songs, themselves first heard and duly replicated in the cast recording. There was some closure to hearing those definitive Bowie versions. They added to the leitmotif of both album and musical and, despite sessions for Blackstar and rehearsals for Lazarus taking place in close proximity, give credence to the idea that Lazarus is his final work. Seen as such, it’s a fine monument to the young Bowie who once thought he might write musicals for a living, or the rising star of the early 1970s who thought he’d try his hands at adapting George Orwell’s 1984 for the stage.

But of course, it’s also much more complicated than that.

Blackstar’s title track bid a farewell, and set a possible fate, for David Bowie’s earliest meaningful creation when it emerged before the musical’s premiere. That was the doomed Major Tom, who in turn inspired and haunted Bowie’s work for four decades, whether suffering a mysterious mishap in space, inspiring a rhyming mantra or inspiring an alien cult. By the time of Blackstar’s release, Tom’s fate was overshadowed by that of his creator. The eerie video of Lazarus, also the opening song of the eponymous musical, saw Bowie retreat into a wardrobe decked in diagonal stripes that recalled a promo shot of Station to Station that had his Thin White Duke drawing the Tree of Life of Kabbalah in a white box room.

While the work of both studio, musical and associated sessions worked towards a crowning work for the artist, the white box room of Lazarus was stolen by one of his far more recent creations. One that was neither Thin White Duke nor Major Tom.

Continue reading “Personas: Running from Valentine – David Bowie’s Other Egos”
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Personas: Chasing Major Tom – David Bowie’s Other Egos

Bowie Major Tom Persona

His fate remains shrouded in jewel-encrusted mystery, but David Bowie’s first significant creation had staying power. The enigmatic Major Tom remained his constant if infrequent companion through accidents, addiction, life…

“There’s Old Wave. There’s New Wave. And there’s David Bowie.”

SO RAN THE CATCHY RCA ADVERT FOR HEROES IN 1977. FOR THE TIME IT WAS A STRANGELY ASTUTE SENTIMENT, NOT JUST FOR BOWIE’S SKILFUL DODGING OF PUNK, BUT FOR THE LEGEND THAT WOULD GROW OVER THE FOLLOWING THREE DECADES. As January 2016 proved, record-label sanctioned as that slogan was, it remains one of the best descriptions for the unique space that Bowie carved for himself in rock, pop, and popular culture.

It wasn’t surprising that the news of David Bowie’s death early in 2016 overwhelmed fans. An outpouring of shock and grief surged quickly as if to stem the news and force it back to a dusty, neglected channel where it could be quietly ignored. But the truth was out, and the collective response gained a life of its own. From the shock of friends, admirers and those who were just lucky enough to coincide with him on Planet Earth, sentiments of grief and respect emerged and merged as people sought to explain the unexpected, if not inexplicable.

Whispered through the streets of Brixton where Bowie was born. Under the ladder rungs of the letterists and signwriters, clipping their messages of solidarity to the front of bars, venues and cinemas. Carried across the Atlantic to the sidewalks of New York where Bowie spent his final years. Past the doorways of Lower Manhattan and the Magic Shop studio that had done so well in keeping Bowie’s secrets during his final years.

How could David Bowie, the chameleon, the popular king of reinvention, have gone? It was a ruse, a natural, supernatural, extension of his transformative personas, an exploration of identity… Bowie was always more than the music. Any glimpse of mortality while he was alive led to a quick collective pinch, reaffirmed in a fandom that stretched across patchwork decades. Yes, even the 1980s. As Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne once put it: “That’s why it’s never occurred to me, ‘oh he’s just a man’ – and that’s cool.”  But the news that hit Bowie’s birth town around 7am on 11 January wasn’t cool. Coming just two days after the release of his 25th album, there was a bundled mystery to unravel as the cold news settled in. A final gift, even if it wasn’t.

If it was true…. If Bowie really was just a man who could succumb to something as banal as death, then surely this was just part of an immaculately laid act of exquisite art? Almost 20 years ago Bowie played an artist straining to transform death into the ultimate artistic statement in the Scott brothers’ anthology series The Hunger. A concept derived, but not following Tony Scott’s film of the same name, where Bowie had taken one of his more prominent roles as a doomed, used and abused vampire. Life wasn’t imitating art in 2016 even though death was a recurring element of Bowie’s music and performance.

When the recently re-monikered David Jones broke the charts amid the zeitgeist of the 1969 moon landing, an ambiguous death was at the heart of it.

Continue reading “Personas: Chasing Major Tom – David Bowie’s Other Egos”

Hammer: Baron Frankenstein at 60 – How to build a monster

The Hammer Baron Frankenstein at 70

The Hammer Baron Frankenstein at 70

Last year we celebrated the 50th anniversary of Hammer’s Dracula Prince of Darkness and the Wallachian Count’s glorious powers of resurrection. To complete the double-bill, we toast the 60th anniversary of the release of The Curse of Frankenstein by picking up tips on how to build a monster from the imperious Baron Frankenstein. Or, inevitably, how a bunch of pitchfork wielding villagers might thwart his plans…

*** Spoilers for the classic Frankenstein Hammer series stitched in ***

“Why can’t they leave me alone? Why can’t they ever leave me alone?”

BARON VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN IS 60! OR IS THAT DR STEIN? OR DR CARL VICTOR? YES,THE HAMMER SEQUENCE OF SEVEN FILMS THAT SPUN OUT FROM MARY SHELLEY’S DEFINITIVE NOVEL NEVER REALLY GAVE THE DOCTOR’S FAMOUS CREATIONS A CHANCE. Instead recognising them as the symptoms of a compulsion – following instead the journey of the talented and visionary, yet self-centred, increasingly obsessed, deluded and immoral scientist himself, through a variety of mishaps, aliases and decades. Despite the names that would be stitched into the form of the Baron’s creatures over the franchise, unlike the famous Universal Studios series that preceded it, Hammer’s adaptation insisted on following the scientist himself, played – with only one misguided exception – by the big name the sequence hang off: Peter Cushing.

The Curse begins…

The Curse of Frankenstein premiered on 2 May 2017 and changed everything. The Hammer entity had produced films since the late 1930s with mixed success, but it was in the company’s third incarnation during the mid-1950s that they invested in horror. The phase started with an adaptation of Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass, quickly followed by a scrambled pastiche. But it was when their sights fell on direct, period horror and rose to their strengths, without overdoing the funding of course, that they not only returned gothic horror to the cinema for the first time since Universal Studio’s heyday, but crucially, introduced colour. And what glorious colour it was.

Everything synonymous with Hammer Horror is there in that 1957 feature. The opulent cinematography, the period setting, the melodrama. Hammer’s horror output would later deviate from that formula, to mixed success; competitors would have great success aping their formula. But it remains one of the most distinctive studio signatures in cinema history.

Grave digging

Like a reanimated corpse at the hands of the Baron, Hammer’s Frankenstein had a painful root to life, despite Mary Shelley’s book being long in the public domain. Searching for production partners across the Atlantic, a Frankenstein script from two young American scribes landed on the desk of Hammer supremo Michael Carreras, son of the studio’s founder James Carreras. Close to the plot of Universal’s Son of Frankenstein (1939), the idea of filming it cheaply in black and white, and knowingly bringing in horror giant and Frankenstein alumni Boris Karloff as their mad scientist was electrocuted at the bolts when Universal heard of their plans. And with the production firmly on the American studio’s radar, Universal were determined to protect their property. And so did constraints and circumstance become a significant shaper in not only this vision of Frankenstein, but also Hammer’s future.

The original script, eventually titled Frankenstein and the Monster, ran to a shoddy 55 minutes and under heavy threat from Universal it was reluctantly reworked until it fell to a rising star in Hammer’s home, Bray Studios. Jimmy Sangster had risen up the ranks when his script for X – the Unknown dug them out of a difficult hole when a Quatermass sequel fell through in 1956.

Adding colour

Sangster’s Frankenstein script pulled the story back to the 19th century, placing the imperious Baron in a satisfyingly central Europe. Like the Universal adaptations that cut a swath through film a few decades before, this was no faithful interpretation of Mary Shelley’s original. But the treatment was crucially strong enough to boost the production into full -olour production. Hammer engaged Eastman Colour, much to the BBFC’s dismay – horror in colour? – and under the unbelievable eye of cinematographer Jack Asher – who did more than anyone to define the ‘Hammer look’ – prepared to change gothic horror forever.

The distinctive make-up that defined Universal’s most famous version of the Doctor’s creation was out of bounds under scrutiny from across the Atlantic. And so it fell to Phil Leakey to sculpt something entirely different. The disfigured, alarming, brutal result did the job, even though it would never be repeated. That make-up almost transformed Bernard Bresslaw until either his agent’s pay demands or his reputation for comedy found him second best to the two inches shorter Christopher Lee (6’5”). The role didn’t allow Lee the moments that Boris Karloff enjoyed at Universal, but twitchy and child-like he managed two subtly distinct personalities in his few scenes. Karloff’s portrayal was governed by pathos, with Lee’s creature was a cipher for the Baron’s puppet. By sheer force of his creator’s will, Lee monster is half-mimic, half-puppet, walking as if on strings. And before he walks comes the famous, over-cranked reveal, when the score roars back after some purposeful silences during the accidental reanimation. That was the scene where Lee first shared the screen with his friend and long-time on-screen antagonist, Peter Cushing. Legends were set. Continue reading “Hammer: Baron Frankenstein at 60 – How to build a monster”

Hammer: Dracula Prince of Darkness at 50 – Dead and just not putting up with it

Hammer Dracula Dead and not putting up with it

Hammer Dracula Dead and not putting up with it

Of the minor things worth celebrating in what’s been a rather terrible week is the 50th anniversary of the US release of Dracula Prince of Darkness. Jokerside breaks the gloom with a look at the glorious world where resurrection is FACT.

WE’RE NEAR THE END OF A WEEK THAT’S PILED ON SOME TERRIBLE LOSSES. AND 2015 WAS PRETTY BAD. Over the last 12 months we’ve lost two British icons whose careers seemed to defy any idea of death. Sir Christopher Lee and David Bowie. Bowie played a vampire of course, in Tony Scott’s The Hunger (1983). Lee’s illustrious career would take in everything from Gremlins to Jabberwockies and heavy metal, but he will be long remembered as a definitive vision of Stoker’s legendary vampire.

Of course, this horrid week also saw the loss of Alan Rickman, most famous to millions of Harry Potter fans for his glorious portrayal role of the vampiric Severus Snape. And just yesterday, Roberts Bank Stewart, the legendary British screenwriter, father of Bergerac, was also lost. Among his many achievements was the creation of Doctor Who’s premier shapeshifters the Zygons. Ah Dracula, one of literature’s great shapeshifters.

So from the depths of gloom, where better to look that at the glorious fall, rise, fall, rise and so on of Lee’s Count Dracula. As this bloody week ends, let’s celebrate utterly ridiculous over the top and glorious concept of resurrection.

Dracula Prince of Darkness was the second of Hammer’s films to feature Lee as the eponymous Count. Of course, it wasn’t the second of Hammer’s Dracula films, but 1960’s The Brides of Dracula can be dismissed along with 1977’s The Legend of the Golden Vampires. While both starred Peter Cushing as (a) Van Helsing, neither featured Christopher Lee. The latter even attempted to replace him, painfully. If you’re after the modes of vampire slaying therein: the shadow of a giant cross and a spear through the heart.

Dracula Prince of Darkness signalled the glorious return of Christopher Lee as the Count, eight years after his first appearance and sparking off the Hammer Dracula franchise proper. And as the first true sequel, it kick-started the Count’s ability to return. And of course, despite the wonderful recap of Dracula’s death almost a decade before, it rendered the whole final act killing of a vampire utterly pointless. The franchise didn’t care a jot for that however, and so began one of the earliest examples of a series where every successive film practically wiped out its predecessor. Don’t pursue that logic too heavily though. You’ll end up with The Satanic Rites of Dracula sat shivering and alone in the corner.

There’s more to Dracula Prince of Darkness – as well as bearing quite probably the best title of any Dracula film, it also kick-started double-bill horror. Released 50 years ago this week in the US it was accompanied rather oddly by The Plague of the Zombies. Some were luck to receive plastic vampire fangs and zombie eye glasses on attendance.

The film’s script features a very handy reminder of the many weaknesses of a vampire. Just as a refresher:

“He can be traced to his resting place during the daylight hours and there, a stake through the heart. He can be exposed to the direct rays of the sun. Running water will drown him. The cross will burn him. He is not invulnerable.”

But who needs to be invulnerable when you can constantly be reanimated, even a century later? And so, let’s have a good old and tongue-in-cheek rummage through the many resurrections of Christopher Lee’s Count Dracula.

Dracula (1958)

“I am Dracula and I welcome you to my house”

By no means a direct adaptation, it was still hammer’s most faithful adaptation of Stoker’s original novel. Jonathan Harker duly turns up to meet the Count, this time at the Castle Dracula outside Klausenburg, but the real reason for rapid departures was the lock-tight contract Universal Studios had cunningly taken out with the Stoker estate two decades before. Universal’s take, with Bela Lugosi apparently defining the role, looked to have the eminently adaptable story sewn up  (Stoker after all was business manager of the Lyceum Theatre for 27 years). Continue reading “Hammer: Dracula Prince of Darkness at 50 – Dead and just not putting up with it”

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