Scenes from the Goldmine (Marc Rocco, 1987)

Do we really need another movie to tell us that the music industry is full of assholes? Since I'm the only one here at the moment, I'll go ahead and answer that question myself. No, we do not. We do, however, need more movies that star the amazing Catherine Mary Stewart, an actress who you might know from Night of the Comet, Nightflyers, Dudes, etc... Oh, and The Apple! (God, how could I forget The Apple?) And Scenes from the Goldmine provides us with more C.M.S. than all those other movies combined. (Even more than The Apple?) Oh, you better believe it. This film is the ultimate C.M.S. experience. Sure, it's premise is basically this: The music industry sucks. But nothing is gonna stop me from enjoying the sight of Catherine Mary Stewart playing keyboards in winklepicklers alongside... (Wait a second. Did you just say, winklepickers?) Yeah, so? (How are you so calm right now?) Trust me, I'm not calm. In fact, my mind is racing like a cocaine-fueled tornado. When the camera zooms in on Catherine's multi-buckle winklepickers while her band was jamming at a local bar at their rehearsal space, I had to stop watching for a minute, as my psyche suddenly found itself inundated with pure, pointy-footed pleasure.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no other type of footwear on the planet that brings me more joy than winklepickers. Okay, creepers make me smile as well. But when it comes right down to it, I'm a winklepicker man through and through. Always have been, always will be.

Of course, I own pair of winklepickers myself. Unfortunately, due to financial constraints, I could only afford a pair of winklepickers that sport two buckles. Don't feel too sorry for me, my two buckle winklepickers and I have had some pretty good times together. It's just that I feel that I could have had an even better time if my winklepickers had more buckles.

Anyway, what caused me to react so intensely to the sight of Catherine Mary Stewart's winklepickers was the fact that they had [are you sitting down?] six(!) buckles (that's a total of twelve all-together). When I would dream about owning a pair of winklepickers that had more than two buckles, I would usually stop at four buckles. So, as you might expect, the sight of C.M.S. wearing a pair with six... (Yeah, yeah, you like pointy, goth-friendly footwear.) You don't understand, they're very important to me.

Besides, I'm sure everyone would rather listen to me bather on and on about winklepickers, than listen to me describe the plot of this toothless jab at the music industry. Yes, people who work for record labels are terrible human beings. We get it.

While it's true, the film, written and directed by Marc Rocco, does cover a lot of familiar territory, it does have a few nice twists here and there. The biggest one being that Niles Dresden (Cameron Dye) of Niles Dresden and The Pieces is just as big of a phoney as the music execs.

To an outsider, the red flags should have started waving immediately. But I guess Debi DiAngelo (Catherine Mary Stewart) was too awestruck by Niles' mega-mullet to think clearly. I mean, the way Niles and the boys, Dennis Lameraux (Timothy B. Schmidt) on bass, and Kenny Bond (John Ford Coley) on drums, fired Stephanie (Pamela Springsteen), their previous keyboard player, should have sent alarm bells ringing in Debi's head. But like I said, his mega-mullet is pretty persuasive.

I know, how can an overgrown clump of hair cause someone to lose touch with reality? It's simple, really, the clump in question is flowing from the back of the head attached to Cameron Dye (Valley Girl), a man whose sharp bone structure could moisten even the most obdurate of panties.

Of course, I don't mean to imply that Debi's new wave panties are soaking wet after successfully auditioning to be the band's new keyboard player. I'm just saying her judgment must have been hampered somewhat. As the quote that opens the film says, "A good girl falls for a wild one every time."

Now that Debi is a fully-fledged member of the Pieces, Harry (Steve Railsback, Lifeforce), the band's manager and Niles' brother, get them a gig at a local club, where Manny Ricci (Joe Pantoliano), an artists and repertoire man for Rush Records, will apparently be in attendance.

Even though the song they play, "Listen To My Heartbeat," is a non-threatening slab of banal mid-80s pop rock if I ever heard one, the band still manages to impress Manny, who tells them to basically keep at it.

After having dinner with her drug addict brother and her disapproving parents (her father, played by Alex Rocco, doesn't like the fact that his daughter is performing at clubs with names like, "The Lingerie"), Debi hangs out at the beach with Dana (Jewel Shepard), her best friend/roommate. It wasn't until near the end of the movie that I realized that Debi's pal was played by Jewel Shepard. I blame the director for this, as he seemed to like to shoot everyone, except for the two leads, from afar; the same goes for Lee Ving, who plays an eccentric music video director.

Taking Manny's advice to keep at it, Niles and the Pieces perform "I Was Just Asking" at their rehearsal space. On top of being my favourite song in the movie, this is the sequence where we first see Catherine Mary Stewart in her six buckle winkpicklers.

In a weird twist, Catherine's winklepickers get more close-ups than both Jewel Shepard and Lee Ving combined.

Speaking of weird twists, the decision to feature three bands performing covers of "Twist and Shout" during Niles and Debi's club crawl courtship sequence was the film's most interesting from a stylistic point of view. Of course, the version I liked the most was the robo-synth one by James House's Roberto Roberto.

Now, I don't want to say too much about what happens after Niles and Debi eventually become a couple. Though, I will say this, Debi should have never shown Niles her giant binder of songs. Seriously, that was a bad decision (you'll see why). But I like said earlier, it's hard to say no to a fully-mulleted Cameron Dye... he's a wild one.

Even though you'd be probably better off watching Ladies and Gentlemen... The Fabulous Stains, Breaking Glass, or even Eddie and the Cruisers, if you're a fan of Catherine Mary Stewart (who does all her own singing), music movies, winklepickers and zebra print, you should probably check this film out. If you can find it (there's hardly any information about this film on the interweb).

Wild Riders (Richard Kanter, 1971)

A pointless biker vs. biker showdown along a desolate stretch of road is inexplicably thrown into the mix to justify the film's title, and to kill some much needed time, but Wild Riders is essentially a home invasion movie; a brutal and uncompromising one. Rife with rape, the film... wait a minute, rife with rape? Ugh. Boasting a plethora of scenes that feature sexual assault, murder, and denim assisted foulness, this nasty film, about a couple of bikers so unpleasant and uncouth, that they're banished from their bike gang (racial tensions and torture-based murder get them thrown out), is one rough hombre when comes to depicting humanity at its worst. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen two characters behave so objectionable. Add the fact that the folks they end up being really objectionable towards turn out to be some the dumbest people I have ever seen prance about in a film, and we're talking one enclosed space I could not wait to vacate. The combination of the tormentor's inflexible heinousness and the victim's earth-shattering stupidity made for one hellish experience. Of course, I stuck around until the end. What can I say? I'm an ardent masochistic who believes that knee socks are inherently kinky and that repulsive biker flicks should be watched all the way through. Seriously, though, the prospect of not seeing these knuckleheads meet with the violent retribution they so justly deserve would have been a minor tragedy. And, oh, what a beautiful retribution it is. All I have to say is, don't ever mess with a man who plays the cello. He will fuck your shit up.

The biker side of story didn't frustrate me because they were overly violent (most bikers in films like this are portrayed as murderous scumbags, or, at least the very least, jackassess with anger issues), it's just that the ostracized bikers, Pete (Arell Blanton) and Stick (Alex Rocco), at the centre of this enterprise came off as so cartoonishly vile, that it was hard for me to believe that they were ever human to begin with.

The imbecilic Stick's initial attack on Sherry Bain's Laure, for example, was downright ugly in terms of writhing and screaming. I guess you could commend the two actors for creating such a realistic assault, but that would make me feel all icky and junk.

However, I will complement Mr. Rocco (Moe Greene from The Godfather) for being disgusting in every manner possible, as his unkempt appearance, erratic disposition, and childlike simple-mindedness made for one terrifying individual. Actually, I'd say Mr. Blanton's Pete was even more egregious than Stick, since he wasn't mentally challenged or perennially unwashed. No, he was just plain evil. In that, he obviously knew the difference between right and wrong, but chose to be a monster anyway. Which is much worse in the long run.

As for the victims, well, they annoyed me because they pissed away so many chances to escape. It's true that Rona (Elizabeth Knowles) was probably suffering from a mild case of Stockholm syndrome (she seemed drawn to Pete even after all the raping and face slapping had transpired). But the fact they failed utilize a telephone or run away (their shapely legs weren't tied to anything) when they had the opportunity was extremely mystifying.

Speaking of legs, the stems Miss Knowles and Miss Bain sported pool-side were topnotch. Only problem is, once the violent tendencies of their unruly guests started to kick in, all attempts to savour their unadorned legs were rendered inert; you know, because of all the indoor ravishment. I had a similar problem with Trip with the Teacher, except that film had its share of playful moments. Whereas, Wild Riders is just plain bleak. The intricate sexiness of Elizabeth Knowles' complicated bathing suit and the phenomenal ending were the only worth while aspects of this vulgar film.

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