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THE FRANTIC FLICKER "The movie magazine that isn't..." ----Serving nonsense on a golden platter since 2004.---- ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Issue #14: May 14, 2004 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: www.franticflicker.com :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"I'm not in Al-queda, but I wouldn't mind blowing this place up." - The homeless guy in front of me at the self-service recycling center.
IN THIS ISSUE: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
==>Swimming Pools, Movie Stars ==>Mulholland Drive ==>All You Have To Do Is Ask ==>The Visiting of the Sponsors ==>Superatomic Giveaway of the Week ==>Whodunnit?
SWIMMING POOLS, MOVIE STARS :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Hello, everyone, and welcome to issue 14 of the Frantic Flicker. This is a landmark issue in that it marks the end of the first quarter of a year (!) I've been doing this. It also marks the beginning of the second quarter (that makes sense, doesn't it?) and yup, we're still here fighting the good fight.
Even though the official topic this week is David Lynch, I thought I'd take a little prompting from the title/subject of this week's story, and waste a minute or two of your time talking about my own personal Hollywood experience.
I moved to L.A. in 1998 to be a screenwriter, but instead immediately ended up as an extra on TV shows. As goofy and as boring as it was most of the time, I had lots of fun and tons of surreal experiences doing that (Did you know that Pamela Anderson literally stops traffic everywhere she goes? Or that Fred Savage is really into Foreigner?) Eventually I needed to make some more money, so I took a job as a corporate monkey boy at a leading internet toy store. But as soon as I'd replenished my bank account, I had the itch to get into the movies again.
Armed with, well, nothing, no experience at all, I got a "job" (worked for free) on an independent feature. The movie was terrible (and never even made it to video) but the experience was great. The next movie I worked on (again for free) was a tense urban drama called "The Court." That is, until the marketing people at Artisan took a look at it and decided the title wasn't urban enough; it's now called "The Playaz Court." That was a great one, actually - I had some idea what I was doing (as an electrician) and I got to meet one of my very favorite actors (Sy Richardson), who I still keep in touch with from time to time. Rap star Sticky Fingaz even made fun of me for wearing a Wonder Woman t-shirt. It was cool.
Before long I started working in the sound department and (wonder of wonders) getting paid. I've boomed probably 5 or 6 features all the way through, plus lots of student films, commercials for the 2000 Libertarian presidential candidate (!), and shorts out the wazoo. I've had lots of fun.
So what's the point of this meandering monologue? That I'm a genius because I moved to L.A. and get to work near famous people sometimes? That I'm a flop because I've been here several years and I'm not a gazillionaire? That I'm just a regular feller talking trash and offering a momentary goofy and obnoxious distraction from the even more goofy and even more obnoxious world we all live in? All of the above? Do you even care? Do I even care? Who cares.
Did I happen to mention that funny story about Penn and Teller? What a riot.
Eric
Ah yes, hooray for Hollywood. And speaking of the greater Southern California area, it plays a big part in this week's story, a cautionary tale that I call...
MULHOLLAND DRIVE :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Amy wasn't used to talking on the phone while driving, especially not on a jagged and crazy road like this, but she knew it was an important call. "Hello?" "Amy! It's Paul Smart." Paul Smart was the biggest producer Amy had met since she'd moved to Hollywood. His company, Smart Bomb Productions, was responsible for 10 to 15 low-budget action movies a year. The movies were all pretty much interchangeable, with titles like Deadly Impact, Ten Seconds to Live, and Forbidden Intent. The one that Amy had auditioned for was called Instinct to Kill. It would be her first movie, and her friends back in Tulsa were already doing internet searches for the title. "Hi, Paul. What's up?" "Well, Dan Williams just dropped off the final script copies, and I wanted to see if you could come over and get yours." "Sure, that sounds great." "So where are you right now?" "On Mulholland." "That's handy. Whereabouts?" With a quick about-face and the help of a few landmarks, it was only a moment or two later that Amy's faded hatchback pulled into the producer's driveway. Like many of the houses on Mulholland, the back half of Paul Smart's house was supported over the canyon by a custom built system of stilts, each as thick as a telephone pole. As she drove up, the house looked normal, but the back yard was a steep grade that dropped a hundred feet lower than the front. Amy could tell that Mr. Smart had done very well for himself. There were several cars parked in the driveway and across the lawn, and all but two had covers over them to keep the dust off. As she pulled up in front of the house and turned off the car, Amy realized something. No one knew where she was. She'd only met Paul at the audition, and talked to him on the phone twice since then. She hadn't even signed a contract. The thought crossed her mind that she might be entering into a less than wholesome situation. There was Paul, opening the door, already talking on the phone to someone else. He was in his forties, but seemed to be in pretty good shape. He waved and smiled. As he walked out to meet her, Amy reached for her own phone again. There was no signal. Not even one little bar. Amy got out of the car. Paul smiled again, and held up his hand for her to stand by until he had finished his call. "That's right," Paul said, "Instinct To Kill. We got some great explosion stuff from an unfinished Charlie Allen picture. Matching that alone will save us two days and fifty grand. You guys are gonna love it. Highest production value yet." Amy held the phone high above her head, then walked around the yard, looking for a place where she could get a signal. Nothing. Oh well, she thought, I'll just make sure he thinks I told someone I'm here. "Yeah, she's gonna be great. A new girl. Amy... Zingrad. Of course we're gonna change it. Amy Zing. How does that grab ya? Yeah, she's gonna be terrific." Paul looked over at Amy, and suddenly, his entire attention shifted to her. "I gotta go," he said into the phone, and turned it off. Paul looked at Amy a second or two longer than she thought was proper before he smiled. "Amy," he said finally, "My new star. Come on in."
"There's almost no reception anywhere around here," Paul said as they entered the foyer, "Mountains, you know? I had to get a special antenna put on the roof, and still my signal is lousy sometimes." "You have a beautiful home," Amy said. Paul shrugged. "It's okay. You should see my house in Geneva. Now that's a house." "No, it's really great. I've never been in a house like this before." "You kids. I can never tell when you're lying anymore. I used to be able to. Well, here's the office." Amy followed Paul into the large room. That desk is bigger than my bed, Amy thought. A Ms. Pac-Man machine bleeped quietly in the corner, the sole sign of recreation in a very businesslike room. Maybe Paul was an okay guy after all. They went over the details of the contract. Amy would train with Guy Lokum, the stunt coordinator, for the week before shooting, and would do her own fight scenes. That part would be no problem. She had been a state champ after all. The name change would be fine, too. Then there was the nudity clause, but Paul crossed that out when she told him she didn't want to do it. The money for the body double would come out of her contract, he said, but in the end it wouldn't matter if the breasts were actually hers or not, as long as there were breasts in the love scene. The negotiations were quick, maybe fifteen minutes total. At the end of it, they'd agreed on a price, and they each signed two copies of the contract. Paul handed Amy her copy. "The scripts are upstairs. Let's go have a drink and you can look it over." "Is there a restroom I could use first?" "Turn left, and it's the third door on the right." Amy took a look in Paul's medicine cabinet. Xanax, Percodan, Valium... and this on the first floor. If he had all this downstairs, she hated to think what might be in the master bath. She quietly reminded herself not to drink anything she hadn't poured. When Amy found Paul, he was out on the back porch. He had already prepared drinks for both of them. "Scotch okay?" "I'd better not." "Come on. We're celebrating here." Amy smiled. She wasn't going to argue about it. "I think I'd better head back." "Really?" "Yeah, it's getting dark and that road just, uh, I'm not used to it." She looked out across the canyon. In the distance, she could just make out two other houses on stilts. All this and privacy, too. "Yeah, I can imagine how that might bug you," Paul said "It's like a lot of things around here. It seems scary at first, but once you're used to it-" he put his hand on her shoulder, "-it doesn't bug you anymore." Amy turned around to face him. She backed up to the railing. "I don't think you should leave yet," Paul said. "After all, I don't find a new leading lady every day." "Yeah,"Amy said. It was the only neutral thing she could think of. "And now we've got a contract, I think we need to consummate it." "I... don't." "Look, I know you're new in town, and you're an innocent and all, but I don't give a crap. You're getting a lot of my money, I'm your boss, and you've got to pay the price. Now stop playing games." Amy backed up across the railing, and Paul advanced just as quickly. He was a few feet away from her, and seemed intent on closing the gap. All at once, Amy stood her ground. She raised her hands and prepared to defend herself. "I don't want to hurt you, Paul." Paul stepped back. He smiled as he pulled out the gun. "Don't worry," he said. "You're not gonna hurt me. You're gonna do exactly what I say." She'd practiced the move a thousand times before, so that just in case this situation should ever arise, she'd perform it perfectly. Her right foot knocked the gun loose, and her left foot knocked Paul's jaw in the same direction. Before he had any time to react, she went for his legs, and in one quick motion, upended him over the side of the porch. He was too surprised to scream at first, and didn't get much chance to catch his breath on the way down. Amy spent a minute or so looking over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of Paul through the greenery. She couldn't see him, and she hadn't heard anything but a thud since he fell. Then, very faintly, she thought she could hear a cell phone ringing. On her way back through towards the driveway, Amy wondered if she'd ever end up living in a house like this. It was still possible. After all, Instinct to Kill wouldn't be the only movie. She was a talented girl. On the drive home, Amy was so intent in thinking about what she had done that she hardly noticed what a difficult road Mulholland was. I guess it's like everything around here, she thought to herself. It seems scary at first, but once you're used to it, it doesn't bug you anymore. THE END
There's also a David Lynch movie that happens to be called Mulholland Drive. It's out on DVD, and if you're lucky, you just might win it this week... see the Superatomic Giveaway for details.
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
In this section, I will happily answer any question you might have, whether I know the answer or not. Just send them to eric@franticflicker.com with the subject line "I have a question." I especially like questions about regular school-type subjects, advice, or stuff about movies.
QUESTION: Why do things like garlic and onions make your breath smell bad? - Steve
ANSWER: Well, Steve, it's an interesting story. Inside the human mouth, there are three different things that affect your senses of taste and smell. First, of course, are your taste buds, which everyone knows about. They're the little things on your tongue which are your primary apparatus for sensing taste. Second, but less well known, are tiny pockets located in the porous skin around your teeth called the taste vessels. Finally, there are the taste cones, larger versions of the taste buds located at the roots of the teeth themselves. Under normal circumstances, the taste vessels collect tastes from around the teeth and transfer them instantly to the taste cones, which work in conjunction with the taste buds to produce a full-bodied "stereo" sensation of whatever you happen to be tasting. There are certain foods and flavors, however, (among them onions, garlic, limburger, etc.) that contain an enzyme called tarkaloid. Tarkaloid has a tendency to clog the taste vessels and inhibits their ability to transfer the taste directly to the taste cones. The result is that the taste vessels become packed with a particular flavor, which immediately starts to decay, causing your terrible breath. Eventually, the taste vessels clear themselves out, but that can take several hours, sometimes even days, depending on your individual system and the amount of tarkaloid taken in. Several years ago, there was an Austrian scientist named Dr. Bratwurst Klegenhalder who claimed to have developed a tarkaloid-free onion, but unfortunately, before his discovery could be made available to the public, Klegenhalder was assassinated by agents of a large toothbrush concern. - Eric
THE VISITING OF THE SPONSORS ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
You don't have to be member of the Special People Club to take advantage of these special offers:
EBAY! I have my grand master black belt in eBay (username mothra911, feedback rating 937 and counting). Buy my ebay stuff! It is good. It is excellent. It is so good and excellent and cheap that you feel like you must buy it. Those of you who are really swinging good with the loot will want to place a bid on Hasbro Otto's I LIKE NAKED, an art experience like no other. Check it out by following the link below!
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PREORDER THE ORIGINAL STAR WARS TRILOGY ON DVD NOW!
Star Wars / The Empire Strikes Back / Return of the Jedi and an extra disc of bonus material. Sure, they're the "special editions" and not the "original" original trilogy, but lighten up, they're almost the same. They come out in September and the current price via this link is just $42.99, or at least it was the last time I checked.
http://www.dvdempire.com/Exec/v4_item.asp?item_id=601761&partner_id=90841311
FULL-SIZE ALIEN HEAD BUST - BIGGER THAN A BREADBOX!
Check out this crazy item - a 3 foot long Alien head. It's an exact replica of the creature's head from the original movie in a limited edition of 500. Prove to your loved ones that you like this classic movie more than they do. Prove it to your friends. Prove it to Jimmy Jones up the street (uh-oh, Jimmy told me he just ordered his - you'd better click over soon if you want to keep up!)
http://www.sideshowtoy.com/cgi-bin/affiliates/clickthru.cgi?id=franticflicker&page=http://www. sideshowtoy.com/cgi-bin/category.cgi?category=props^item=2903
SUPERATOMIC GIVEAWAY OF THE WEEK :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Part of my whole reason for being here is to expose people to cool and/or weird stuff that they might not otherwise know about, and one of the main ways I want to do that is by giving stuff away for free.
This week's giveaway is a NEW DVD of DAVID LYNCH'S madcap masterpiece MULHOLLAND DRIVE!!!
PLUS as an added BONUS, this week's winner will also receive an official DENNIS HOPPER action figure. It's from the Super Mario Bros. movie, but it's much more fun to imagine little Dennis as Frank Booth in BLUE VELVET. "Now it's dark... where's my bourbon!?!?" Gas mask not included. See the website for further details!
To enter, send an e-mail to superatomic@franticflicker.com. Put your NAME (first and last) and ADDRESS in the BODY of the e-mail, and use the SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD in a COMPLETE SENTENCE as the SUBJECT line. Your information will not be used for any other purpose.
The SUPERATOMIC SECRET PASSWORD for this week is... (gotta subscribe to find out).
Visit the superatomic section of the website (www.franticflicker.com/superatomic) for complete rules, more details and a photo of this week's prize. Contest ends late Thursday night, May 20, 2004 (if the message says Friday, that's too late Thursday night), and the winner will be contacted by e-mail and announced on the site on Friday.
By entering, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older. US or Canadian entrants only, please.
WHODUNNIT :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Written, compiled, researched, edited and published by yours truly, King Boss Man Eric Henderson! Thanks for reading it!
The Frantic Flicker is a weekly e-mail newsletter published by Eric Henderson.
The official Frantic Flicker website is a site to behold. Behold it at:
www.franticflicker.com
If you have any questions or comments, pass 'em on to: eric@franticflicker.com. If you don't want me to print your letter, let me know. I'll talk at you again next week. Until then, have fun! Eric
All content copyright 2004 Eric Henderson. All rights reserved, but feel free to forward this e-mail or link to my home page. Thanks.
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::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: THE LIVING END :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
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