R.I.P. Jean Rollin

It’s a sad, sad day indeed. There’s been to many obits' written this past year as some very important people have passed on during these last twelve months. Doing the rounds on the Internet and checking the latest goofy facebook updates, I heard the rumour that Jean Rollin had passed away after some time’s sickness. I was completely taken by surprise and it shocked me immensely. I had to call my wife as I walked one of our kid’s to school in the freezing cold snowstorm brewing to share my grief. I dropped him off, stuck my headphones on, flicked to random playlist with my gloved hands and eerily enough Acanthus score to Le Frisson Des Vampires started to play, and the saddening truth started to settle in. Jean Rollin was gone, one of the greatest French directors of all time, and ironically one of the least known ones too…

It made me really sad. It would be fair to say profoundly sad. It might be projection of all those other deaths this year or it may just be because Jean Rollin held a very special place in my heart. Jean Rollin is one of the directors that I have always looked upon with the greatest respect. These past years I have had a great time going back and re-watching movies that I first saw on VHS back in the early nineties – both through the many Redemption releases and some titles through V.S.O.M. Like a fine wine the films have aged gracefully and are more in line with my preferred taste now. Where some of the movies may have left a certain impression on me back then, they have had a completely different impact on me now as an adult. The years that have passed have allowed me to read movies in a different way, interpret themes and see connections within the canon. It had me so enthusiastic that the plan for 2011 was to quit work, go back to my film studies which I walked away from fifteen years ago – and write my masters thesis on the themes and iconography of Jean Rollin, a project I started exploring here on the blog.

Rollin has been a guilty pleasure of mine for something like two and a half decades, from when I was a single youth wanting to see as much weird stuff as possible, to being a married adult with two kids who seeks out Rollin movies as a meditative cure to the often repetitive movies that make up horror genre these days, not that Rollin made horror movies. His films where philosophical art-movies with horror conventions and traits to create a mesmerising world. It pleases, and in some way comforts me, that his movies have started turning up in pristine releases these last couple of years, because his great cinematic visuals and emotional themes will always stay with us, and be reinvoked every time that we watch one of his movies.

No matter what his main narrative was, there was always a tenderness to be found in his movies, a tenderness and a humanity that still fascinates me deeply and acts as something of a interconnecting trait throughout his work. Much like some other popular Euro genre directors, he was repeating a pattern, remaking his narrative, reworking his motifs, searching for that perfection that was his drive.

Something that always fascinated me about Jean Rollin, apart from being the creator of some of the most stunningly beautiful and poetic films ever to have been made, was the reoccurring tales that he was shy and uncomfortable around set of the adult movies that he directed to keep food on the table. These movies weren’t movies that Rollin didn’t care for, because he went into those movies with the same passionate approach and delivered some fantastic visuals there too. But supposedly he’d rig the camera, set up the shot, and then before the actors and actresses got down and dirty, he’d leave the room and smoke his pipe leaving an assistant to shoot the sex scenes. I don’t know how much truth there is to that rumour, but it has always stook with me and brought a kind of respect with it. I’ve always interpreted it as even though Rollin was uncomfortable in those settings, he was at piece with the fact that he was working within the low budget sphere, and no matter what kind of a movie he was making, he’d give it the attention it deserved, even if it meant setting up and then leavening the set before the rumpus started. As said, I have no confirmation of the fact or even know if it’s something I imagined along the way, but there’s a strong empathetic value in there.

An empathy that taught me to love Jean Rollin.

Rest In Peace Jean Rollin, the creatures of the night will shed a silent tear for you as we gather at the beach in Dieppe and gaze longingly upon the sea.

Texts on the movies of Jean Rollin.

R.I.P. Ingrid Pitt

Ingrid Pitt is gone.

An iconic leading lady, who it would be an understatement to claim being the most important of all the Hammer Horror women. Definitely the most sensual actress that ever walked through Bray studios in a skimpy transparent nightdress. I grew up with Ingrid Pitt. I really did. As a child I used to read the Hammer Horror comics, where she was featured quite often. The older I got, the more I started watching the movies, not to forget her reoccurring parts in Doctor Who adventures. I obviously started reading the books on Hammer and Pitt, and naturally I started seeking out her other movies when I got into collecting videos.

Pitt brought something else to the screen in the movies she figured in. Be it the Hammer stuff ranging from Roy Ward Baker’s Vampire Lovers 1970 to the reboot web series Beyond the Rave 2008. The Amicus film The House that Dripped Blood 1971, the gritty war movies, the TV serial appearances or just the small parts that she held in movies like Brian Hutton’s Where Eagles Dare 1968 or Robert Hardy’s The Wickerman 1973, there was just something special about her that really reached out from the screen.

This past year I was lucky to get a quick glimpse of Pitt at the World Horror Convention, which I talked about here earlier. Simply being in the reach of genre cinema royalty was enough, but apart from actually seeing her in the flesh, one of the greatest Pitt moments may have been listening to her talk about Peter Sasdy's Countess Dracula on the commentary track to that film. There’s a wonderful honesty and joy as she tells stories of how she got into the movie business, how she made determined decisions to become the iconic woman she finally became, and working for low budget cinema. It’s a brilliant commentary track which Pitt completely rules and it quite obvious that she enjoyed every minute of being on set, in front of the camera and giving her performances all she could.

It shows, and that may be that presence that shines though with her movies. Ingrid will never fade away from the memories of so many nights watching her great performances on screen. A legend in her own time who's untimely deptarture has left me shocked and sad as this was completely unexpected.

Until you feel the urge to drink our blood once again,

Rest In Peace Ingrid Pitt!

R.I.P. Jan Halldoff

Just read that Swedish director Jan Halldoff passed away after a short time of illness.

For all of you that don't know who he is let me just tell you that he's one of the best damned scriptwriters and directors that this oblong cold country has ever had. Halldoff started out as a still photographer on movies, before directing a few shorts and then shooting his debut feature Myten - Eller Han snodde en blomma och fick springa för livet. (The D.T.'s) 1966 about a Harry [Per Myberg] who walks on the so called outskirts of life. The movie portays life on the rough side, as Harry roams streets, encountering charming South Stockholm characters and nihilistic coppers. Myten was quite well received by the Swedish press and comparisons where made to the early movies of Bo Widerberg too. Widerberg who directed the phenomenal Elvira Madigan 1967, Kvarteret Korpen 1963 and Mannen på Taket (the Man on the Roof) 1976. Halldoffs last movie was the 1982 road movie Klippet (approx The Fair Deal) about a truckdriver Svenne [Pierre Lindstedt] who finds the possibility of making an amount of cash so that he can retire - a classic "last run" setup if you like - which is what the title refers to. Obviosuly and as the "lat run" movie usually goes the twists of fate and ironies of life become the main obstacle and the movie brings Svenne to a bitter sweet climax

Just like Myten, Klippet and the most of Jan Halldoff's movies, they all explore what at first may seem like characters on the fringe of the norm, and then as the audience reaches insight realizes that they actually rather are more the norm than anything else. From the frustrating realism of Myten, through the haunting Stenansiktet (The Stone Face) 1973, the splendid Rötmånad (Dog Days) 1970 - in which a young Christina Lindberg made her onscreen debut, the debauchery of Firmafesten (The Office Party) 1972, up to his final movie Klippet they all share the same kind of themes and characters. Very typical Swedish characters that easily can be identified with, which is why his movies where enjoyed by the audiences.

Halldoff's passing saddens me as I know people are working hard to have his movies re-released - Yeah Steff-o, captain of my moviequiz team, I know just how much you do for the cultural heritage of this country and perhaps the sweet irony of today is that now with his passing that may be easier. It would be a splendid tribute, because Halldoff's means that yet another of the last true greats of Swedish cinema leaves this world. It's unfortunately becoming more and more evident that we are loosing all our great Swedish directors to time, and there still hasn't been any real revival of these fantastic directors what so ever. There's so much more hidden in the angst ridden darkness of Sweden that isn't all Ingmar Bergman, and it's about time that these guys get the recognition abroad that they deserve. It's a shame because they really shouldbe rediscovered and restudied. At least they where a fresh breeze when they where active and nothing like the rather stagnant Swedish movies of today.

Rest in peace Jan Halldoff, Rest in peace.

R.I.P. Mamma Lena

It’s a sad day today as we lay my mother-in-law to rest. I can’t write pieces on pop culture characters who pass away and not write something on a person who stood very close to my heart in the real world - Mamma Lena. An amazing woman who raised three wonderful children, two boys and a girl. A girl, who I met, married and later spawned my own two little monsters with. So in a way I owe Lena everything, and in all honesty I don’t think I’d be here without her.

Mamma Lena was someone very dear to me. She may have been an eclectic train wreck of a person at times, but she was always very affectionate and caring for everyone in her surrounding. She definitely didn’t enjoy a light and easy life, as fate threw her some serious ordeals and trials along the way, but time and time again she’d fight her way through, get back up on her two feet and get ready for the next round, and finally start to create a reasonable life for herself. Only to be stricken by that ferocious demon called cancer. But even this bastard was held at an arms length as she fought it off several times through the years before it became to overpowering.

I convinced that despite the turmoil of knowing that she was dying, these last years where the best years in her life. She grew closer to her children who all proved that background is not important and all made careers for themselves, she saw her grandchildren develop into wonderful little entopists. An entropic force that gave her an opportunity to get back on track and redeem all that she may have missed the first time around, like one does with one’s grandchildren. I feel that she found a firm foundation that she’s been missing for a long time, and when she stood firmly upon that rock I’m sure she knew that she was surrounded by people who loved her dearly.

She never once exposed a conscious streak of menace, but always wanted everyone to have a good time and was always cracking jokes. Even so the last words she ever said to me. She constantly knitted jumpers, hats and gloves for everyone in her vicinity. Not having a garden she used her balcony and kitchen to grow vegetables like cucumbers and tomatoes, which she’d send to us by mail every now and again. And then there were the jams. Nobody could make jam like Lena, and I don’t think I’ll ever eat strawberry jam again.

She loved being in the centre of attention and would always make sure that she was heard in whatever forum she found herself – which she naturally did to perfection. If it were an art form she would have been the master, even if it meant telling the same humorous anecdote for the umpteenth time. Anecdotes that I will miss hearing. But it’s these anecdotes that will stay with me from now on, anecdotes I will share with my children about their grandmother, the stories that we heard over and over again; like the times she saw Hendrix during the infamous Gröna Lund concert where the power was cut by the management mid performance, or the time she bumped into her idol Bob Dylan pondering Djurgården in Stockholm, or the time she went to see Pink Floyd and took her kids with her. Or the time she went to the cinemas to see Tarkovsky’s Stalker on the big screen or her favourite movie Fellini’s Amarcord. Not to mention the endless references to, and quotations from the works of Joseph Heller and Jack Kerouac.

We talked a lot about pop culture and music my mother in law and I, and even though she’d grown up a mod listening to the early roots of rock’n’roll evolution, she never held prejudice towards other music genres or movies, or pop culture stuff constantly taking in or discovering new things. We’d go to exhibitions and check out strange art that was on the edge, go to the gallery that frequently showcased comic book art or take in photo exhibitions like Corbijn and stuff like that. We spent hours talking about movies, as she’d borrow stuff from our collection as long as we said it was good, and she could recite endless passages from Kevin Smith’s stand-up performances. She was someone that I could share music and artists with – especially the damaged ones with solemn lyrics and frail voices like Neil Young, Roky Erickson, Tom Waits, Mark Linkous, Antony and the Johnston’s, obviously Bob Dylan and I even took her to a Daniel Johnston concert two years ago. She enjoyed every minute of it, even though she was in the midst of chemo.

And the mischief, there’s no end to the stories of the mischief that this woman got up to, although I’m not going to get into that here. But there was certainly come serious shit, some average shit, and some wonderful shit, the stuff that makes up her legacy. But at the heart of it all it was all with good intentions, for a moment of happiness and a rush of fun. Like giving her oldest grandchild candy and coca-cola for breakfast, no wonder that kid wanted to have more sleepovers at his grandmother’s place.

From now on there will be a little old lady shaped hole in my heart that will never be filled, and I miss your voice, jargon and being profoundly.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

R.I.P. Dennis Hopper

It's looking like this month is going to become one of the most heartbreaking months of all time... a childhood idol, a very close and loved family member, and an iconic filmmaker all taken by the same hellish disease. The sadness is just piling up here and each one that passes adds to the distress, sorrow and projected emotions that they all reflect upon one and other.

Billy in Easy Rider, Daniel Morgan in Mad Dog Morgan, the lost Tom Ripley in Der amerikanishe Freund, the drunken Dad in Rumble Fish, Lieutenant Lefty in TCM2, the sardonic Kaufman in Land of the Dead, Feck in River’s Edge, Milo the assassin in Catchfire… the list goes on and on… not forgetting the psyched out photographer in Apocalypse Now, and Frank Booth in the masterpiece Blue Velvet… what ever his characters where called, he brought them to life and did it with such a talent that they became the main persona that that specific movie revolved around. The one you remembered after the lights came back on. Nobody could bring complexity and awe to a character in the same way as the great Dennis Hopper could.

Not only a great actor, but also a exceptionally talented director who’s movies always seemed to be ahead of their time, scolded at release, but later re-found to be modern classics years later. From Easy Rider 1969 through the magnificent Colors 1988, Catchfire 1990 and The Hot Spot 1990 to his last effort as director Homeless 2000 these movies are incredibly potent and elegantly told stories. Stories that undoubtedly will be re-visited by many now as he has left us.

There are only a few actors who I feel a "personal" bond with, amongst them is the great Dennis Hopper. I will watch anything that Hopper is in because he always brings something else to the movie with him. There’s an aura to his person, a sense of something larger than life. He held a magnificence that most others actors lack.

I once met Dennis Hopper. It was almost twenty years ago. I was a young runt attending one of my first ever movie festivals, my first ever visit to Stockholm, and Hopper was the guest of honour at the Second ever Stockholm Film Festival. Together with two mates from university we attended every screening of his movies during the festival only to hear him introduce them. We also attended the face to face interview session as this was the last stop on the festival. One of the girls who I was staying with had shot a music video the week before and had the camera still in her possession. As we where all taking the train back to Uni. later that night, she had the camera with her, and jokingly I said that we should interview Hopper and get it on tape. After being told by every official working at the festival told us that there was no way we could get an interview we felt determined to prove them wrong. Said and done, these two very determined women marched right up to Hopper’s daughter who was there at the Festival with him and asked if there was any possibility for a quick interview. Surprisingly we where granted one, a quick five after the Face to Face. She told us to get back in touch afterward and she would set it up for us… But, and there’s always a but… the two chicks I was there with got into an argument who was going to interview him and after a big ugly row walked off in separate directions.

I was kinda lost for words and in a city I didn’t know my way about. So I hung out in the foyer waiting for one of them to come back and pick me up so that I could get to the station for the ride home. Whilst waiting, Hopper’s daughter came back to fetch us, and I explained the situation. And then Hopper walked out looking for his daughter. I shook his hand and excused the situation in some way I can’t recall, but his answer was “Well you know... Women!” and he shrugged his shoulders. I stood there like a mute, and the next two or three awkward lines of dialogue where in the same spirit as those Chris Farley sketches from S.N.L. where he always ends up with the punch line “That was like, awesome!” I asked him to sign my notebook, and then we said our goodbyes and off he went… For years I hated the guts out of those two chicks for wasting the opportunity, and then reached the insight that I’d gotten all the spot for my self instead. I realised that this great actor took the time to talk to a random fan for five minutes of his time for no other apparent reason than for being a good guy - a complete polarisation of the characters he commonly played - and that impressed the hell out of me. This iconic actor, this man of cinematic importance, this landmark of independent filmmaking gave me a moment in time, and I adored him even more for that simple brief meeting.

After a battle with the most horrendous of all antagonists, the great Dennis Hopper, lost his battle to that monster called cancer early this morning. He was 74 years old.

Rest In Peace Dennis Hopper. I will miss you.

R.I.P. Captain Phil Harris

One of the few TV shows that I actually got excited about these past few years is the Discovery Show DEADLIEST CATCH. Those guys rule and are completely awesome - and that's just them going about their day job. They pull off tasks that I couldn't manage even if I really wanted to.

But saddly one of the lead characters passed away yesterday after suffering a massive stroke at the end of January.

Captain Phil Harris was without a doubt one of the most fascinating characters on the show, and I'm honestly saddened by the news. Even though a dozen hours of TV can't define a person's real character, he was one of the highlights of the show and in my oppinion a very likable human being, making ends meet at whatever cost needed. Stern, but fair. A No Bull kind of guy.

My thoughts go out to his sons, family and crew at this sad time.

Rest In Peace Captain Harris. Rest in Peace.

R.I.P. Chas Balun

Anyone who was around in the late eighties-early nineties and had that lust for blood and guts that only the horror genre could deliver recognizes the importance Chas Balun had for (Me) the young gorehounds reading Fangoria and Gorezone back then. But perhaps more so, all those great books he put out through FantaCo. Deep Red Vol 1 & 2, The Deep Red Horror Handbook, Lucio Fulci: Beyond the Gates, Horror Holocaust etc. Each and every page of those books are filled with honest, respectful, wacky articles, reviews and insight into a genre that otherwise didn’t receive too much serious reporting. Chas coined the words Chunkblower and Gutmuncher and invented the ingenious rating system, where movies not only where reviewed and graded, but also rated by their Violence in the legendary GORESCORE. A system that definitely had me searching out more than one move I’d never have cared about before otherwise.

Balun was also a graphic illustrator and cartoonist, creating many fine pieces for T-shirts, books and comics. The before mentioned books where all fully illustrated by Balun’s artwork, and tonight I’ll be wearing my Rotten Cotton/Chas Balun Zombie t-shirt in tribute to Chas.

When I started my academic research and serious writing back in the early nineties, Chas’ books where invaluable for me as they where among the first to actually spotlight the European Genres, outside the academic sphere. There was no arty farty twisting and questioning to prove a point or line of thought – but instead taken at face value for what they where. Chas just wrote it as it was, from that important learned fan point of view. I can honestly claim that each essay or paper, or thesis I ever wrote and handed in had at least one footnote, quote or reference to the many books and insight of Chas. I don't think that I would have started, or had the balls to start writing about the horror genre if not for Chas Balun.

Chas was 61 years of age when he passed away on December the 18th after loosing his battle with Cancer. Rest in Peace Chas Balun - You where a great champion of the genre, your legacy remains and you will be missed.

R.I.P. Dan O'Bannon

Sad news tonight as I read on several pages that the great screenwriter and director Dan O'Bannon has passed away after battling Chron's Disease for 33 years. O'Bannon has always held a special place in the world of film for me as he was one of the first screenwriters that I noticed all those years ago when I started paying attention to movie credits sometime after seeing Alien on vhs - which definitely shaped me and a generation with it. His movies and screenplays where always an added attraction when watching movies growing up, his dialogue and characters where so believable they could be people I knew. Heck, just take a look at the movies he wrote, it's like a greatest hits compilation tape of fabulous movies.

The Return of the Living Dead is one of my favourite flicks as it perfectly combines the Romero universe with the music that I love (Roky Erickson, Cramps, The Damned), puts a comic spin on it and brought something new to the genre. It made us laugh at a rather humourless genre, the zombie movies. It proved that when doom is pending, there's still time to laugh, rock out and face the apocalypse with a smile on your face.

John Carpenter's Dark Star 1974

Ridley Scott's Alien 1979

Gary Sherman's Dead & Buried 1981

Gerald Potterton's Heavy Metal 1981

John Badham's Blue Thunder 1983

O'Bannon's fantastic The Return of the Living Dead 1985

Tobe Hooper's Lifeforce 1985

Hooper's Invaders From Mars 1986 (great one to fall asleep to)

Paul Verhoven's Total Recall 1990

O'Bannon's The Ressurected 1992

Christian Duguay's Screamers 1995

Peter Svatlek's Bleeders 1997 (which Ninja Dixon likes)

The animated blue print on how to nuke the Death Star, the adventures of Ellen Ripley - the Alien and the Predator mashups...

All these movies would have been so much lesser entertainment if not for the mind, pen and craftmanship of the amazing Dan O'Bannon. One of the greats has left us, and will be missed.

Strangely, only a few hours ago I posted on the ministry of fear project that I worked on during this year. Well one thing is for sure, without Dan O'Bannon bringing his friends over from the abandoned Alejandro Jodorowsky's DUNE project, the Alien monster as we know it would probably look completely different as the visual genious H.R. Giger was one of the talents O'Bannon met, and took with him from that production. Giger talked fondly of O'Bannon and remarked several times during the time I spent with him in Switzerland of what a talented man O'Bannon was.

R.I.P. you magnificent entertainer of many late night viewings, tonight I dream of rock'n'roll zombies, aliens and bow ties.

R.I.P. Paul Naschy

With horror icon Jacinto Molina Alvarez a.k.a. Paul Naschy, passing yesterday I feel that a few words on this amazing man are fitting.

I'm not going to ramble on and tell the story of the life and times of Paul Naschy, as there are most likely other sources with more insight in the matter doing that right now; my relation to Naschy is simply that I enjoyed his movies and they hold a great entertainment value to me.

Probably most know for his many portrayals of classic horror characters with a Spanish EuroHorror spin on them, Naschy was definitely a major player and a majestic figure on the scene. He's almost like a Spanish equivalent to Lon Chaney Jr., constantly transforming his face and body to the state needed for his character, as you can see in the trailers below.

Werewolves, Dracula, Which Hunters, Inquisitors, Mad scientists, Sinister Villains, Hunchbacks and even a Mummy; no part was to demanding for Paul Naschy. He portrayed the werewolf Waldemar Daninsky in a stunning twelve movies under the Hombre Lobo series, beating Chaney Jr., who only donned the wolf face seven times. It is without saying that Naschy is an icon of EuroHorror with few equals still in the genre.

But apart from starring in almost a hundred movies between 1960 to 2009 (with his latest, the H.P. Lovecraft inspired La Herencia Valdemar slated for a 2010 release, along with the animated O Apóstlo still under production) I feel that it is in place to comment on his work for the horror genre outside the role of an actor, the part that always impressed me the most.

Naschy also wrote forty one scripts for movies he starred in, he directed fourteen movies within the genre, and during the eighties when the genre was loosing it’s value to cynical movie companies, Naschy started producing horror films, among them the first ever Spanish-Japanese coproduction’s, so that gothic horror still had at least one outlet, even if it meant producing them himself. Now that's what I call dedication.

For me personally I will always remember Paul Nacshy as the werewolf, as his iconic face was featured on the final Midnight Video catalogue. Midnight Video run by Bill Knight, a true seventies EuroGoth enthusiast and one of the few sources for finding these movies in an age before internet and DVD. That catalouge stood on my desk like a small piece of art for years. But Naschy was an important part in my cinematic education, he’s just as important if not more than say Jesus Franco or even Amando de Ossorio when it comes to the thrilling EuroHorror works of Spain. When the sloppiness of Franco got to much, or the lack of enthusiasm in the later de Ossorio flicks started to wear the flavour of Spanish genre down, there would always be a Naschy flick that would impress and jump start the curiosity once again. What else could I have missed? Most of Naschy’s productions held high standards and he is without a doubt as an important part of the European Gothic Horror genre as Hammer Studios, Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

Through the years Naschy received many fine awards, and possibly the highlight was in 2001 when he was awarded the Gold Medal for Fine Arts by King Juan Carlos I of Spain. Ironically there is a petition online to award Naschy with the Goya Award for Lifetime Achievement. I'd be surprised if Naschy isn’t commemorated with an honorary award the next time around.

"I would write that Paul Naschy had at least done his best and that he cared about what he was doing. I was capable of mistakes - to do it well or to do it poorly - but I assure you is that I did it with feeling and affection.
I love the fantastic cinema"
- Paul Naschy -

On the 1st of December, Jacinto Molina Alvarez, lost his battle against cancer and passed away at the young age of 75.

Rest in Peace wolfman, you will be missed.