Sid and Nancy (Alex Cox, 1986)

It's a movie about punk rock. And it's also a movie about drug abuse. But to me, Alex Cox's Sid and Nancy will always be, first and foremost, a movie about love. Yep, as sappy as it might sound, I consider this here motion picture to be one of the most romantic, life affirming films ever made. Sure, it doesn't end well. But, hey, for the short time they were together, their love for one another was truly inspirational. There's a scene midway into the film never fails to tug at my heart strings (and, yes, I've seen this film at least a dozen times). It's the one where Sid Vicious, the sort of bass player for the seminal British punk band The Sex Pistols telephones his American girlfriend Nancy Spungen while on tour in the U.S.A. Even though their conversation ends like all their conversations do, in a slurred cacophony of  coarse put-downs and drug-fueled non-sequiturs, nothing makes me happier than seeing Nancy's reaction to when Sid tells her that he not only misses her but loves her as well. Assuming that Sid, "the punk rock superstar," would forget about her once he got a taste of fame and fortune in America, Nancy's eyes light up when she learns that Sid hasn't forgotten about his shrieking violet.

Furthermore, the fact that everyone around Sid thinks Nancy is an annoying hosebeast does nothing but intensify my Nancy-based rooting interest. Maybe I'm not hooked up right, but I'm still waiting for my Nancy Spungen to come along and sweep me off my feet, get me hooked on heroin and book me gigs at Max's Kansas City. I know, that's a weird thing to say, but some people need a Nancy Spungen in their life.

It's true, I have a soft spot for brash, forthright women who look amazing in fishnet pantyhose and/or stockings. But I think Nancy Spungen is more than just a woman, she represents an idea. For those of us who have no clue when it comes to maintaining healthy human relationships, the Nancy Spungen's of this world cut through all the noise by doing the majority of the heavy lifting for you.

In the documentary, Who Killed Nancy?, it's implied that Sid Vicious would have never approached a woman like Nancy Spungen. Well, in this fictionalized version of their story, Nancy, an American living in London, England (she's basically a starfucker), does make the first move (she forces her way into bed with him, and by "bed" I mean the floor of a flophouse). But Sid is no wallflower.

The question who hit on who first doesn't really matter in the end, as Sid is the one who is currently bathing one of Nancy's feet with inside of his mouth. And get this, the foot he's slobbering all over was seconds earlier ensnared in black fishnet pantyhose. In order to get at her toes in a more efficient manner, Sid proceeds to extract the foot he wants to devour from its nylon prison with a serious of punk-friendly tearing motions.

What I'm getting at is, Nancy is clearly the one wearing the fishnet pantyhose in this relationship.

In a strange twist, when we first meet Nancy Spungen (Chloe Webb), she's wearing blue jeans(!). Her dominatrix friend, Linda (Anne Lambton), is actually the first to be seen wearing fishnets in the movie. No, it's true.

When Sid Vicious (Gary Oldman) and his pal Johnny (Andrew Schofield) come over to see Linda–you know, to cover her walls with graffiti and eat baked beans, the former gets his first glimpse of Nancy Spungen. However, since Nancy is not wearing fishnets or any leather whatsoever, Sid doesn't give much thought to her. The feeling seems to be mutual, as Nancy doesn't even seem to know which wanker is which (she calls Sid "Johnny").

This all changes when Nancy sees Sid's band, The Sex Pistols, in concert for the very first time. Literally getting in-between Sid and Johnny while they were sleeping, Nancy lies next Sid, basically kicking Johnny to the curb (who leaves while muttering something about sex being ugly and boring).

The next day, Sid watches as some git throws a pint in Nancy's face at a pub. Outside the pub, Sid finds a distraught Nancy smashing her fists against a wall. Just after Nancy mumbles the immortal words, "Never trust a junkie," Sid asks her if she can score him any drugs. Giving her a wad of cash, Sid watches as Nancy hops on a bus. Call me a cynic, but I don't think Sid's going to see that bird again.

Oh, and it should be noted Nancy Spungen is now dressed like Nancy Spungen. Meaning, her sexy body is sheathed in fishnets and leather.

Even though London is a large city, Sid, along with his friend, Wally Hairstyle (Graham Fletcher-Cook), who is wearing a red leather jacket, stumble upon Nancy. Well, they stumble upon a couple of bags containing her belongings first. At any rate, as Wally helps put Nancy's clothes back in her bags (they have spilled all over the street), Sid yells at Nancy, "What about my drugs?!?"

I don't know what was going on in England at the time, but judging by the behaviour of Sid and Johnny in the opening scene (they're seen kicking in the windshield of a Rolls-Royce), there was definitely something in the air that was making them act this way. Another example of this unruly behaviour occurs when Sid and Nancy are walking to Wally's gaff to shoot up, when we see a bunch of kids coming from school. Smashing car hoods with their field hockey sticks as they went, these kids are clearly deranged. Or maybe they were just a reflection of society?

If you look closely, you'll notice a Tori billboard that reads "Labour Isn't Working." You have to admit, that's almost interesting. And I hate say it, but "Labour Isn't Working" is one of the best political slogans of all-time.

Enough about British politics. I was going to inquire as to why Johnny and the other members of The Sex Pistols not named Sid Vicious were wearing angora sweaters during a studio session. But then I remembered seeing a picture of Vivianne Westwood in an angora sweater from the period and it made perfect sense; she designed the bands clothes.

It's during the angora sweater replete studio session that we first hear the full-force of Nancy's strident American accent and it's also the one where Sid kisses Nancy's right foot.

The scene where The Sex Pistols play a concert on a boat on the Thames highlights where Sid's priorities are. Not even bothering to appear on stage, Sid spends most of the time either with Nancy or asking Malcolm (David Hayman), the band's crafty manager, for drug money.

Since it's apparently illegal to hold concerts on boats in the middle of the Thames, the police put a stop to the show. As the boat comes ashore, the police are waiting. The band, the band's management, and dozens of punks scatter, as the police show up wielding billy clubs.

Walking arm in arm in a calm manner, Sid and Nancy leave the area unmolested. The scene is hauntingly beautiful, as chaos reigns all around the oblivious couple... and the music of Pray For Rain plays on the soundtrack.

My favourite line occurs soon afterward when Nancy says, "I'll never look like Barbie. Barbie doesn't have bruises."

The biggest test for Sid and Nancy's relationship is when Nancy is told she can't travel with The Sex Pistols for their doomed American tour.

However, it's during the tour, as you all know, that Sid calls Nancy and declares his love for her. The fact Nancy is dressed in black opera gloves, fishnet stockings and thigh-high boots when she receives this call makes the scene all the more sweeter.

After a brief trip to Paris, the action moves to New York City, where Sid and Nancy set up shop at the Chelsea Hotel. In one the film's funniest bits, Sid is unaware that he's in New York City; despite the fact they have been there for a week. He confirms his location by looking out the window.

Even though the film looks great from start to finish, the New York chapter has a certain quality about it. Photographed by famed cinematographer Roger Deakins, the New York scenes have a grittiness about them that is strangely dream-like.

The film's most famous scene, the alleyway garbage rain kiss, captures this dream-like aura best. And like the "off the boat" scene, the alleyway garbage rain kiss features the amazing music of Pray For Rain.

While it's obvious to most people that Sid and Nancy have a drug problem. Some might need convincing (I know, who are these people? But still, please bear with me). Well, what better way to do so than have Xander Berkley play Sid and Nancy's drug dealer. I mean, you know you have hit rock bottom when Xander Berkeley shows up in your life. A "Methadone Caseworker" played by Sy Richardson tries to steer Sid and Nancy in the right direction, but it's way too late, these two are doomed.

In typical Gary Oldman fashion, I would some times forget that he was in this. In other words, there were moments when I thought Sid Vicious was playing himself. But as anyone who has seen the film or knows anything about punk rock history will tell you, that would be physically impossible.

Unafraid to appear skanky or uncouth, and definitely unafraid to come across as loud and obnoxious, Chloe Webb continues the tradition of American actresses giving fearless performances for British film directors. The others being, off the top of my head: Theresa Russell in Track 29 (Nicholas Roeg), Cathy Moriarty in White of the Eye (Donald Cammell) and Kathleen Turner in Crimes of Passion (Ken Russell). So, yeah, Sid and Nancy is pretty much the most romantic movie ever.

Track 29 (Nicolas Roeg, 1988)

Let's say you're in the middle of giving a rousing speech at a convention that celebrates model trains, you have the crowd eating out of your hand, and your leggy mistress is in the front row beaming with a sense of misguided pride. But what's that? A deranged Englishmen, one conjured by your non-model train enthusiast wife, is currently smashing your expansive, state of the art model train set-up like he were a floppy-haired limey version of Godzilla. I don't know 'bout you, but I think it's safe to say that Track 29 represents every white American male's nightmare. I know, you're thinking, not all white American males like model trains. That's the thing, model trains are just a metaphor. Whether it be distractions like American football or Star Wars, white American males have forgotten what's important in life. Do I have to spell it out for you? Look at Theresa Russell's organic structure. You see it? All right, what's missing? That's right, her husband's penis. Since her husband's too busy playing with his trains, Theresa... or, I should say, Linda Henry, is forced to imagine herself hanging out with her fully grown son, who, of course, is played by Gary Oldman. Not that I approve of his actions, but her husband's mistress is played by Sandra Bernhard, who, as we all know, is not only leggy as all get out, but foxy beyond belief. On top of that, Sandra B. gives Christopher Lloyd's model train enthusiast exactly what he wants. And that is, a good spanking every now and then.

(Wait a second, you mean to tell me that Track 29 features Christopher Lloyd as a doctor/model train enthusiast who likes to get spanked, Sandra Bernhard as a nurse who likes to spank model train enthusiasts who practice geriatric medicine, a floppy-haired Gary Oldman as the adult son of an American woman, and Theresa Russell plays a curvaceous woman with a huge doll collection?) That's exactly what I'm telling you.

How was this movie allowed to be made? I mean, don't they have laws in place that prevent these kind of cinematic anomalies from occurring? To answer my own question, I have no idea.

In the meantime, I have to congratulate myself for going this long without saying it, but I can't hold out much longer. And that is: What the fuck? It had to be said at least once. I try to use the expression, "what the fuck," sparingly, because if you use it too much, it lessons the thing you think is worthy of your fuck-based disbelief and/or confusion. But after giving it much thought, I can safely declare that Track 29 is definitely worthy of a what the fuck.

In truth, I knew I was going to type words about Track 29 the moment I saw Theresa Russell bouncing around in purple exercise clothes. (Hold up, you mean to tell me you don't write movie reviews based on a film's ability to tell a compelling story or on a the quality of the direction?) Uh, no, I write them based on whether or not Theresa Russell appears onscreen within the first five minutes wearing purple exercise clothes, haven't you been paying attention?

In my defense–not that I need to defend myself–I was on the cusp of making a pretty profound point about how this film is in fact a scathing rebuke of the infantilization of the American male. (Where?) In the opening paragraph of this here movie review, that's where.

You can tell right off the bat that this film, produced by George Harrison's HandMade Films, is not going to sport a conventional trajectory the moment we see Gary Oldman standing by a rural bridge with his thumb out. Wearing one of them Peruvian hats underneath a cowboy hat, Gary screams, "Mommy!" at the top of his lungs.

As Gary waits for someone to give him a ride, Linda Henry (Theresa Russell) is at home exercising in purple sweats (dig the matching headband, girlfriend). Drinking vodka-spiked orange juice and watching a science fiction movie on television (she can multitask like nobody's business), Linda (who is also rocking a fierce ponytail), calls her husband Henry Henry (Christopher Lloyd), who is upstairs playing with his model trains. Now, Henry Henry would probably bristle if he heard me call what he's doing "playing." But you know what? I don't care. If you can think of a better way to describe what you're doing up there, please, let me know. Until then, you're a middle-aged man who plays with toy trains.

Nonetheless, you don't have to be a marriage counselor to figure out that Linda isn't happy with her husband's obsession with model trains; if you call them "toys" you'll be on the receiving end of one of Christopher Lloyd's trademark exasperated looks.

You'll notice that a water tower looms large over Henry and Linda's home. This reminded me of this guy I knew as a teenager who lived in a house that had a large water tower practically right next to it. One day I asked him: Aren't you afraid the tower will one day come crashing down on your house, killing you and your entire family? Surprisingly, he said no. Yet, despite his reply, the thought that the water tower might come crashing down on us was never far from the back of my mind every time I was over there. (What's this got to do with Track 29?) Nothing, really, I just... (Nothing, eh? Then get to writing about Theresa Russell's knees. No one cares about your irrational fear of water towers.) It's not that I'm afraid of water towers, per se. I just get nervous whenever I find myself in the vicinity of large metal objects that could possibly fall on me.

Am I crazy or is Nicolas Roeg have a thing for Theresa Russell's knees? (Since I've seen Track 29 as well, I can say, without hesitation, that you are in fact not crazy.) Whew, that's a relief. I mean, for a second there I thought you were going tell me I was crazy. (No, there's definitely something going on with her knees.) In case anyone doesn't know what we're talking about, Theresa Russell's knees are the focal point of almost every scene in this film. In fact, there are a couple of instances where her knees are the only things onscreen.

My favourite instance of this type is when Linda's friend, Arlanda, played by the always delightful Colleen Camp, listens to her tell a strange anecdote, and the only thing onscreen are Theresa's knees. It was almost as if Theresa's knees were telling Colleen the anecdote.

As the film went on, and with no let up in the knee sightings in sight, I began to think: Oh, great, the crux of my review is going to be knee-based. (You make that sound like it's a bad thing?) Well, as most people know, I'm somewhat shy when it comes to waxing semi-poetically about certain female body parts. However, this film has given me very little choice in the matter, as it repeatedly shoved Theresa's delicious knees in my face. Oh, and how do I know they're delicious? Trust me, they're delicious.

Actually, forget about her nice knees, everything about Theresa Russell in this movie is delicious. (Aww, that's so sweet... in a mildly creepy sort of way.) The way Nicolas Roeg films Theresa Russell in this movie reminded me of the way Jess Franco films Soledad Miranda or Lina Romay. In that, it's obvious that he's enamoured of her. And who can blame him? She's got a pleasing shape.

If you're wondering how Gary Oldman fits into this story, it's not that simple. From what I gathered, Linda had a baby when she was a teenager. And that baby, if the contents of the flashback are correct, was taken away from Linda upon its delivery. Well, after Martin, the name of Gary Oldman's character, meets Linda at a local diner, the garrulous Englishman drops by her house as she's taking a dip in her pool. Holy crap! Would you look at Theresa Russell in that bathing suit! (Stay focused.) Sorry, um, yeah, Martin is definitely real when we see him in the diner, as the waiter and Arlanda both interact with him. However, I think Martin is a figment of Linda's imagination from this point on.

Giving her some convoluted story about how he's the long lost baby that she had when she was a teenager, Linda seems convinced that Martin is her son. And so begins one of the oddest mother-son relationships in film history.

Now, I've seen my fair share of kooky Gary Oldman performances over the years (his turn in Tiptoes immediately springs to mind), but his work here is beyond kooky. In fact, it's so kooky, I felt a profound sense of unease every time he and his floppy head of hair would appear onscreen. It gets to the point where Gary says, "I'm entitled to an American childhood" (in a mock child's voice) and uses Theresa's diaphragm as fake lips to mouth even more inappropriate gobbly-goop.

She's only in three maybe four scenes, but Sandra Berhard (the real reason I watched this movie in the first place) managed, nevertheless, to impress this viewer. How, you ask? It's simple, really. She's Sandra Bernhard. Seriously, she spanks Christopher Lloyd in one scene and sits cross-legged at a model train convention (Trainorama). I know 'nuff said.

The real reason to see this movie is to witness the stunning performance given by Theresa Russell. Yes, she's sexy, gorgeous, leggy, and all that. But she's also fearless. Reminding me of Kathleen Turner in Crimes of Passion and Cathy Moriarty in White of the Eye, Theresa–in the grand tradition of British directors working in America who bring out the best in blonde actresses born in the U.S.A.–isn't afraid to appear foolish or daft. And because this, the quality of the film inevitably go through the roof. If you're a fan, like I am, of American movies directed by British directors that feature a lead performance by an American actress playing an insane person, than I highly recommend that you seek out this motion picture.

Tiptoes (Matthew Bright, 2003)

Okay, I've stalled long enough. It's time to talk about Tiptoes. (You were stalling?) Wasn't I? Think about it. (Aw, man, don't make us think. It's not a good look for us.) No, hear me out. Call it aught-phobia, call it achondroplasiaphobia, call it a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray, but I always avoided this movie like it were the plague or The Big Bang Theory. Everyone once and a while, I would come across the film's poster and think: This looks like a giant piece of shit. To add insult to injury, the way the film's poster combined the colour green and Matthew McConaughey reminded me of The Wedding Planner. However, upon further inspection, I noticed that something weird was going on with Patricia Arquette and Kate Beckinsale's hair. The former's hair was in braids and the latter's hair had this Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker's Dracula vibe about it; to make matters even weirder, Kate was standing next to what looked like a regular-size Gary Oldman. More on Oldman's size in a minute. Either way, their respective kooky hairstyles caused me to do a little research. Well, it turns out, this movie, which, like I said, is called "Tiptoes," was directed by Matthew Bright, that's right, Squeezit/Rene from the Forbidden Zone and the guy responsible for Freeway and Freeway 2: Confessions of a Trickbaby . (How does that explain Patricia Arquette and Kate Beckinsale's hair?) If you have listened to director's commentary track on the DVD for the first Freeway movie, like I have, you're well aware that Matthew Bright had a hand in creating the various hairstyles seen throughout that now classic movie. And using my keen powers of observation, I can only assume that Matthew Bright was just as hands on when it came to the hairstyles in this movie as well.

Armed with the knowledge that Matthew Bright was the person who oversaw the follicle direction of this decidedly off-kilter project, I dove straight into its freckled coin slot with just the right amount of gusto. I know, the film probably had a team of hairstylists on the payroll (it even says here that Kate Beckinsale had her own personal hairstylist). But nothing gets put on film unless the director approves it first. In other words, I like to think that Matthew Bright had the final say when it came to hair.

Remember that big ass word I used earlier? (Achondroplasiaphobia?) Yeah, that's the ticket. It means the fear of little people. I don't have it, and I don't know anyone who has it, but apparently it's a real thing. Do you recall when I said that Gary Oldman looked "regular-size" on the film's poster? Yeah, well, how should I put this? He ain't so "regular-size" in the actual movie. That's right. The man who brought to life: Lee Harvey Oswald, Count Dracula, Sid Vicious, and Ludwig Van Beethoven is Rolfe, Matthew McConaughey's twin brother who penetrates Bridget The Midget's irregular pussy with his regular-size cock on a semi-regular basis.

I know, there's nothing "irregular" about little people pussy. In fact, I've been told it's the complete opposite of irregular. I was just being...What was I being again? Oh, yeah. I was being a dick; a dick, by the way, that is seemingly always on the outside when it comes to little people pussy.

While on their way to a meeting being held by the Little People Defense League, two little people, Rolfe (Gary Oldman), a normal-size actor wearing little-people-face, and Maurice (Peter Dinklage) a French Marxist with a grudge against society, stop to pick up a hitchhiker named Lucy (Patricia Arquette), a leggy free spirit, who, from the looks of it, was recently kicked off a bus. Hopping on the back of Maurice's trike chopper (Rolfe is driving one as well), the newly christened threesome continue on their way.

Meanwhile... You know what? I need to get something off my chest before I continue. I just want to say that I loved Patricia Arquette's overall look in this movie. Now, I might expand on these feelings later on down the road, but I just wanted to make it clear that Patricia Arquette's overall look in Tiptoes was a breathtaking sight to behold.

As I was saying, meanwhile, over at the loft where an artist named Carol (Kate Beckinsale) and Steven (Matthew McConaughey), a guy who trains firefighters, live together, a family secret is about to be revealed.

Well, the family secret in question is not going to be revealed to any of film's characters as of yet. However, we soon learn that Steven's entire family is made up of little people. Oh, and unlike Gary Oldman, Matthew McConaughey is playing his own height. I don't know why I felt the need to point that out, as Gary Oldman is the only actor not playing his own height. I guess I just didn't want people to think that all the actors were playing heights that weren't their own. (So, you say, Matthew McConaughey's family is little, eh? And by "little," I mean in stature, not in the size of the actual family.) No, I would say the family's size is quite normal in that regard. Not to imply that being little is somehow abnormal.

Anyway, judging by the way he interacts with the folks at the meeting of the Little People Defense League, hosted by Jerry Robin Jr. (David Alan Grier), he seems, despite the obvious height difference, to get along with everyone, including his parents, Bruno (Michael J. Anderson - The Man from Another Place) and Kathleen (Marcia de Rousse), and his siblings.

I would crawl across the muscled expanse that is Matthew McConaughey's acne-free shoulder blades to get the chance the chat up Tiffany (Cherub Freed), his smoking hot sister. I know, the Goldie Hawn-esque (Lucy's description, not mine) Kitty Katz (Debbie Lee Carrington) thinks she's the hottest little person in the room, even Bobby (Ed Gale), the guy who runs the Little People Defense League, seems to think so. But I have to say, I found myself drawn to the teenage angst bullshit Tiffany was putting out there. Oh, and like all the female characters in this movie, she has amazing hair.

"The asshole is the strongest muscle in the human body," and with that nugget of wisdom, Lucy, along with Rolfe and Maurice, arrives at the L.P.D.L. meeting. While Lucy and Maurice go inside, Steven and Rolfe, who walks with the aide of a cane, get reacquainted in the parking lot. I guess the people who the run the L.P.D.L. didn't approve of Lucy and Maurice's plan to steel their weight in food, as they are kicked out almost immediately.

"People just explode. Natural causes."

(What is this film actually about? I mean, other than the fact that Matthew McConaughey's shoulder blades are free of acne and that Cherub Freed is freaking adorable, you haven't done a very good explaining why this film exists.) First of all, since when do films need to justify their existence. And secondly, you sound like a "film critic" when you talk like that. (Ewww, I think I'm going to puke.)

You see, Carol–you remember, Kate Beckinsale's character–doesn't know that Steven's family is made up of little people, or, as she calls them, "midgets." So, when Carol tells Steven that she might be pregnant, his reaction to the news isn't exactly positive. You could say, he's downright hostile to the news. As you can imagine, things get even more complicated when Carol finds out Steven's little secret (get it, "little secret"). Neither of them want their baby to grow up to be a little person.

However, that all changes when Carol immerse herself in the little person scene. (Wait, there's a little person scene?) Sure, why not? It's tough being little. While Carol is open to idea of having a little person baby, Steven remains against it. You would think that Steven would the one open to idea, as he's spent his whole life around little people. Whereas, Carol was using the word "midget" just a couple of days ago. That's the brilliance of Tiptoes, it... (Stop! "The brilliance of Tiptoes"?!? What are you nuts? Gary Oldman is acting on his fucking knees. Peter Dinklage's French accent is a joke. And... Again, you're starting to sound like a "film critic.") Why can't a movie where Gary Oldman plays a little person and Peter Dinklage sounds like Pepé Le Pew be brilliant? (You're right. Carry on.)

Actually, I think I'm about done. In terms of having the best hair. I'm gong to say Kate Beckinsale's little person party look was the best -- you know, the one with the two large buns tied with a black ribbon. (Wow, I thought for sure you would have said Patricia Arquette's blonde braid look.) While I dug the braids, there was something about Kate's buns that sent me over the edge. On the other hand, I will give the denim/gold lamé outfit Patricia sports in the film my highest rating. Unfortunately, there's no director's commentary on the Tiptoes DVD, so we can't gain any insight into the making of this bizarre film. Nonetheless, I highly recommend listening to Matthew Bright's commentary Freeway DVD. I also recommend Matthew's commentary on the Fantoma Forbidden Zone DVD, the way he perves out every time Gisele Lindley appears onscreen is probably one of my favourite things in the world. Quirky fun-fact: The commentary track on the Fantoma Forbidden Zone DVD is the only commentary track I've listened to more than once.