Citizen Kane. Scarface. Boogie Nights. Reservoir Dogs. The Usual Suspects. Elephant Parts.
According to this fool, all of the above-mentioned movies are absolute cinematic gold. It would not be hard to find a consensus about these films within the general film-watching population. Each one is widely regarded, depending on the generation you claim, as a beacon of filmmaking excellence, save one. Orson Welles, Al Pacino, Paul Thomas Anderson, Bryan Singer, and Quentin Tarantino are revered names amongst aficionados and the strictly-popcorn-movie types. Michael Nesmith, creator of Elephant Parts, is largely ignored and often maligned, due in large part to his participation in the excellent-in-every-way Monkees television series. I am here to vindicate his glorious film, and others. This is a task that should not be necessary, as these films speak magnificently for themselves, but in a world where people love Coldplay and vote for Ted Cruz, popular taste cannot always be accounted for.
Not every film that ever gets made needs to be Citizen Kane or The Avengers: Infinity War. There is room, or at least used to be and ought to be again, for quirky little movies that don’t mean much. “Oscar bait” or “blockbuster” are not our only two choices. Many movies get released with the intent of becoming one of those, fail on both counts, and still endure as classics decades later. Many more are relegated to the dustbin of cinematic history, panned by critics, ignored by moviegoers, and treated as pariahs or mistakes even by the stars and creators, themselves. Every once in a while, those movies rebound and become cult classics, so bad they’re good. Sometimes, the creators of those films stand by their work, stubbornly and righteously. I have made a list of films that I love that are, by popular account, “bad”. These are the films that were never intended to be There Will Be Blood, although some were intended to be blockbusters. I will vigorously defend them and explain, in various amounts of detail, why negative opinions about these films are wrong:
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1978)
Produced by Robert Stigwood, the brains behind Grease, which was released to theaters just a month prior to this beautiful film, it eventually became known as “Stigwood’s Folly”. Robin Gibb, Bee Gee and co-star, said when asked that, “it was the best of times, we had the worst of films.”
With all due respect to a Brother Gibb, I must whole heartedly disagree. This movie shines as a beacon of circus pastels and 1970’s excess. The plot has been criticized as “flimsy” at best, “non-existent” at worst, but it un-ironically serves as a social critique on capitalism and teaches us that truly, there is no place like home.
Obviously, the musical source material is top-notch. While we could certainly live without George Burns’ rendition of “Fixing a Hole”, or the weird robotic effects placed on the Bee Gees’ angelic harmonies during “She’s Leaving Home”, the notion that there are no good renditions on this album is absolutely insane. My folks owned this double-album soundtrack on vinyl, and I wore it out completely, listening to it over and over again in my living room, reenacting the film as Barry Gibb’s character in between repeated viewings. I studied it intently. I love everything about it. Diane Steinberg was my first crush, and no one on Earth was cooler, or ever will be, than Barry Gibb or Steven Tyler were in this film.
Steve Martin’s maniacal Dr. Maxwell, and his performance of “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”, was my first introduction to his comedic style. If you are a fan of Steve Martin, and why wouldn’t you be, you will be thoroughly entertained by his romp through the song, climaxing in a lightsaber fight with Peter Frampton, except they’re using 9 irons. If this description doesn’t sound like absolute gold and convince you to watch this film, I don’t understand you or what you think is fun.
Speaking of cool, the first time I saw Aerosmith perform “Come Together” on a stage built of giant coins and dollar bills with Steven Tyler’s face on them, I was 100 percent sold. As FVB (Future Villain Band), they set out to poison young minds, and it totally worked on me. The level of dark, druggy cool exuded by the band is the measuring stick by which all things cool are judged. See for yourself:
The juxtaposition between this part of the film and the rest of the brightly-colored kaleidoscope of silliness it is on the whole is mind-bogglingly weird, and weird is good.
The versions herein of “A Day in the Life” (Bee Gees), “Got To Get You Into My Life” (absolutely lit aflame by Earth, Wind, and Fire) and Alice Cooper’s “Because” are all positively awesome.
People need to relax. The movie isn’t meant to be some artistic tribute to the Beatles. It’s a comedy starring musicians that can’t act playing music. It’s vaudeville. Don’t let snobs ruin your fun shitting all over this film. It’s glorious.
Elephant Parts
About this Michael Nesmith guy I mentioned earlier. A true renaissance man was he. Known as the “serious” Monkee, he also had a reasonably successful music career post-Monkees with his First National Band. Elephant Parts was a precursor to a television show called Television Parts and a television channel you might have heard of, MTV. Saying Elephant Parts was maligned may not be entirely fair, as the film won the first ever Grammy for Music Video Production. Still, as a staunch Nesmith acolyte, it is my duty to spread the word of this fantastic little film.
Calling it a film at all is using the term liberally. Nesmith wanted it to be a vehicle for his concept of the music video. This isn’t to say no one had ever made music videos before, but Nesmith wanted to elevate the form into short story films, not just shots of the bands performing the music. He made videos for four of the tracks off his record Infinite Rider and the Big Dogma, interspersed them with skits (lousy with drug references and more than a little indebted to his time with the Monkees), and voila, Elephant Parts was born.
I daresay, this is the greatest opening sequence in the history of film:
It just gets better from there. This film has become a part of my vocabulary: I order marghen greetas for my wife’s fire, have bonded with strangers over their knowledge of the Pirate Alphabet, and remain ever vigilant not to succumb to a 50’s Fit:
Please watch this “movie” in its entirety.
Dead Alive
An elementary schoolchild’s vision of a gory horror movie, Dead Alive is almost a fart joke. This film is gross. It has more in common with the Evil Dead franchise than with Saw or other uncomfortable, torture porn horror flicks; the level of blood and guts is purposely absurd. It does not strive for realism, it literally oozes and gushes. It’s revolting, it’s nauseating, and it kicks ass for the Lord.
Directed by Peter Jackson in the 1980s, before he was a nerd darling who got his hands on Middle Earth, Dead Alive is what the nerds were actually watching. At least, it’s what I was watching. I am mystified that not only did my folks let me rent it, they watched it along with me, laughing and cringing the whole way. This movie lit a fuse for me, I had to get more of its ilk, but nothing has been able to scratch that itch in quite the same way. I feel like I never hear anything about this movie, which is a crime. It doesn’t seem to be available to stream and never gets mentioned in conversations about horror films or Peter Jackson. Not that I would stick around for a conversation about Peter Jackson. Movies like the previously mentioned Evil Dead series and Return of the Living Dead come close, but this one is singular in its gallons of fluid. It just hits the spot. Dead Alive scores a mere 54% on Metacritic, proving that the self-appointed gatekeepers actually have awful taste.
Moonwalker
Michael Jackson. People try to front, but we all know that your record crate or CD rack sports his entire catalogue (at least up through Dangerous). I do not try to front; my admiration for MJ goes back to the mid-80’s, when the first compact disc I ever owned, that was MINE, was gifted to me for Xmas of 1987 in the form of Bad. Prior to that, I had Thriller on vinyl. I was and am a Michael Jackson fan.
This piece of straight-to-video glory came to my attention when I was home sick with the flu. My mom went to the local video store to rent a few films for me to watch while I nursed back to health, and found this gem. She knew the assignment. Oh man, I was as pumped as a little sick kid could be! Only Michael Jackson could make a proper film in which the entire plot is “celebrate the excellence of Michael Jackson.” The opening strain of MJ dancing across the screen was like medicine for me, and I felt better up until the “my heart is as big as Texas…” scene with the vertigo-inducing effects. I got a little woozy there.
That subsided again when MJ showed off his powers of transformation. First, he was a claymation rabbit running from the paparazzi. Then, he turned into a Lamborghini and ran from Joe Pesci. Next, in an absolute coup de grace’ to my nine year-old brain, he transformed into a giant, laser-shooting robot and blew Joe Pesci up.
Somehow, the most mind-blowing part was still to come. I thought it was over. MJ defeats Frankie LiDeo (a twist on the name of MJ’s real-life manager, Frankie DiLeo), reunites with his friends, and finds his lucky star. I had no idea I was about to be treated to a moment so personally glorious, I was convinced MJ put it in his film just for me. He obviously knew. He threw it back to FVB and my life came full circle at the ripe old age of nine:
I was cured! I looked at my mom in disbelief. This was absolute serendipity. I rewound the tape and watched the whole movie again.
In the current day, I have shared the glory of this movie and MJ with my kiddos. My daughter knows the words to “Man in the Mirror” because of this film. My son pretends to turn into a robot and has his own Billie Jean hat. Moonwalker is part of the zeitgeist.
So, there you have it. I can only assume you’ve already made plans to see these films. If not, lame. Please let me know what movies you love that other seem to hate or just can’t appreciate. I will give it a shot. Maybe I’ll make a part two and share more of my films and make the case for yours. Until then… Be excellent to each other and party on, dude.
A Fool Speaks Loudest 