Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it.
Thanks for watching!
Video by Porfle Popnecker. I neither own nor claim any rights to this material. Just having some fun with it.
Thanks for watching!
My Favorite Small Moments From Various Movies (video)
Originally posted on 3/11/16
I wouldn't have been caught dead going to a redneck trucker flick in 1977. Or even renting it or watching it on HBO in 1988. Especially if it had anything to do with CB radios, which I regarded with utter disdain. Not only did I not see movies like CONVOY back in the day, but the C.W. McCall song itself made my soul hurt.
But that was then. Now, in retrospect, I can enjoy a low-rent indy truck opera like Chuck Norris' BREAKER! BREAKER! (1977) as I bask in its retro-retro charm. In fact, this simple little tale of good guys vs. bad guys and righteousness against injustice is such utterly unassuming and straightforward fun that its purity is practically bracing.
In only his first starring role, Chuck is hardly the fabled Superman he would later become although he can already spin-kick his share of butt. Here, with his youth and lack of facial hair making him look a bit unformed, he's an easygoing truck driver who'd rather mind his own business than have to prove how tough he is.
BREAKER! BREAKER! -- Blu-ray Review by Porfle
(I wrote this short story way back in 2008. While entirely fictional, I like to think that it could have happened, or perhaps even should have happened.)
Back when I was Christopher Walken's personal chef, I never knew
what random horrors each day would bring. I remember one day in
particular, in which Mr. Walken sat in his darkened study, lost in one of
his strange, pensive moods. He summoned me just as the grandfather clock
in the drafty hallway struck noon.
I stood there, awaiting his orders, for quite a long time. He sat in a
large leather-bound chair, hands pressed together under his chin, as
though pondering his options with grave consideration. Finally, in his
familiar low, halting voice, he spoke.
"I would like...the Buggles," he said. "For lunch."
"The Buggles?" I repeated, not sure I'd understood. "You mean, the 80s 'new wave' musical duo?"
"Yes, exactly," he said, relieved that I was familiar with them. A
slight smile played upon his lips as he nodded, relishing some mental
image that I daren't even imagine.
I wasn't sure what to say. Where the hell had this idea come from? "The
Buggles broke up a long time ago," I informed him. "They're, uh, not a
duo anymore."
"Then..." he said thoughtfully, "you could get...the ingredients for the Buggles...and make some new ones."
I thought about this seemingly nonsensical request for a moment, when
suddenly the horrifying truth dawned on me. By "ingredients", he meant
that he wanted me to kidnap Trevor Horn and Geoffrey Downes, the
original members of the Buggles, and cook them for lunch. His lunch.
"I can't do that," I said firmly. "I...I won't do that. They're human
beings, not just 'ingredients' for some ghastly lunch for you." I
cringed, waiting for him to explode in a fit of anger, or at least send
me packing.
"Oh," he said softly, as though my words had actually made some kind of
sense to him. "Okay. Well, then...I'm not sure what other...lunch
options...are available to me. Let's go into the kitchen and...explore
them. Shall we?" He rose from his chair and waited for me to lead him
into the kitchen, since he had no idea where it was. So I did.
When we got there, he gazed around in silent wonder at all the utensils
and appliances. Finally, he spoke. "Where do you keep...the people?" he
asked, gesturing with his hands.
"The people? What people?" I inquired, baffled.
"The people that you cook," he explained. "Where...do you store them
before preparing them...for my meals?" He asked this as though it were
the most normal thing in the world.
Forcing back a retching wave of hot bile, I contained my revulsion long
enough to respond. "I don't cook people!" I exclaimed. "I cook food!
FOOD! Nobody cooks PEOPLE! That's HORRIBLE!"
He looked at me with a sort of serene puzzlement for a moment, then
shrugged. He noticed something on the counter. "What is that?"
"That," I said, grateful for the change of subject, "is a sandwich that I made for my own lunch."
"Ah," he said, amazed. "A...sandwich. Could you make one of those...for me?"
"Sure," I said, relieved. "What kind of sandwich would you like?
"Are there...different kinds?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "You can put whatever you want in a sandwich. Any
kind of meat, in addition to things like tomatoes, lettuce, cheese,
pickles--"
"Make me," he said with growing excitement, "a Buggles sandwich."
I slapped my forehead. "No...no, you don't understand," I said, exasperated. "You can't--"
"With some of that pickles and...er, cheese things that you indicated,"
he added. "And I...I really am hungry today, so...make me two of these
Buggles sandwiches. Each of them containing half...of each separate
Buggle. With cheese." He took a deep breath and stood back with his
mouth open, eagerly waiting for me to confirm my understanding of his
instructions.
"Look, Mr. Walken," I said, finally tiring of this charade and spelling
it out for him, slowly and plainly. "I cannot and WILL not cook people
for you to eat for lunch, or for any other meal. You're asking me to
commit MURDER, for heaven's sake...so that YOU can indulge in
cannibalism, one of the most utterly HEINOUS acts a person can commit.
Why, the very notion of this fills me with an inutterable HORROR which I
can scant express with mere words!" I leaned wearily against the
counter, drained by my emotional turmoil.
He thought about this for a long time, then held up his index finger and
began to speak. "Are you...trying to tell me..." he said slowly, a look
of concern on his face, "that we...are out of cheese?"
"NO!" I screamed. "WE'RE OUT OF BUGGLES! YOU'LL HAVE TO EAT SOMETHING ELSE!"
"Ah," he nodded, appearing to understand me at last. I waited anxiously,
fearfully, for his next words. He extended his arm so that his sleeve
would retract and reveal his wristwatch. He looked at it, furrowing his
brow. "It's five minutes after twelve," he announced. "Is my lunch ready
yet?"
"No," I said. "You told me you wanted the Buggles for lunch, and I told
you I could not and would not kidnap and cook them for you. Therefore,
you have yet to present me with a viable alternative meal to prepare for
you."
"I understand," he affirmed. "Well, then," he said breezily, "I'll just
invite some friends over for lunch, and you can cook some of them." He
pulled an address book out of his pocket, went over to the phone, and
began calling people while I simply stared at him in disbelief. Thirty
minutes later, the livingroom was filled with guests milling around
drinking cocktails.
"There's Meryl Streep," he said to me in a low voice, pointing. "I'd
like some spaghetti and Streep balls as an appetizer. And over there,"
he added, indicating a gentleman standing next to the Picasso, "is
Dennis Hopper. As an entree, I'd like some thick, juicy Dennis Hopper
steaks. Ribeyes, of course."
"Of course," I said wearily.
"And to snack on...umm, who's left...oh, just do something fun with
Steven Spielberg. Maybe a sort of festive meatloaf. Or some jerky. But
you'd better hurry, because he never stays long."
"So...I just slaughter them now?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, just slaughter them now," he urged. "I'm famished."
Steeling myself, I clutched the meat cleaver and began to inch forward.
Suddenly a wave of hysteria swept through me and I screamed at the top
of my lungs: "NO! NO! I WON'T DO IT! I WON'T SLAUGHTER AND COOK
HOLLYWOOD'S ELITE FOR YOUR LUNCH!"
With that, I flung the meat cleaver aside and ran shrieking from the
room. On my way out, I could hear Mr. Walken explain to his guests,
"Well, you just can't get good help these days."
Later, he found me hiding in the kitchen, trembling. He noticed my
sandwich sitting uneaten on the counter. "Are you...going to eat that?"
he asked.
"No, you can have it," I said in a quavering voice. "I couldn't bear to eat anything right now."
He picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. "Mmm, this is very good," he appraised. "Who is it?"
It was Underwood Chicken Spread, but I lied. "It's Tom Cruise. I got a good deal on the cast of TOP GUN at the meat market."
And so, for the next several weeks, I gave Christopher Walken chicken
spread sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and told him that we
were working our way through the entire cast of TOP GUN. When that was
over, I switched to deviled ham and told him we were starting in on PULP
FICTION. This eventually presented a problem, since I'd forgotten that
he was in it. So one day, two weeks into PULP FICTION, he asked, "When
do I get to eat me for lunch?" Thinking fast, I opened up a can of Spam
and pointed at it. "This is you," I said. "Oh...I look good," he
drooled.
Porfle Admits: "I Was Christopher Walken's Personal Chef" (short story)
Originally posted on 10/25/10
Oliver Parker's FADE TO BLACK (2006) has been described as "a movie lover's movie." Or, more specifically, an old movie lover's movie, since you have to be reasonably familiar with early 20th century cinema in order to really appreciate it. First off, you have to know who Orson Welles was. Which, unfortunately, leaves out a large percentage of the current moviegoing public.
For the rest of us, the fact that Danny Huston is portraying a young Welles in an apocryphal tale of post-war intrigue and murder during a film shoot in Rome is a pretty enticing lure. All that's needed is for Huston to give us a convincing portrayal of Welles, and for writer-director Oliver Parker to deliver a story that takes full advantage of its potential. Which, more or less, is what they did.
Having just split from his beautiful actress-wife Rita Hayworth and finding his career in a bit of a slump, Welles arrives in a politically-volatile Rome in 1948 to star as Cagliostro in a Dumas adaptation called "Black Magic", while also trying to get a film version of "Othello" off the ground (at least this much is true). It's fun watching Welles try to insinuate his directorial influence into the not-so-great production which clearly seems beneath him, while getting a vicarious look at the inside workings of the famous Cinecitti studios.
During a take, the company is shocked when a costumed extra named Dellere (Frano Lasic), whom Welles has met previously, staggers into the frame and dies after whispering a single word: "Nero." The police deem it a drug overdose, but a dubious Welles starts delving into the mystery himself, with the help of his young Italian bodyguard Tommaso (Diego Luna). Tommaso, an ex-cop, leads Welles into a dark world of political intrigue and danger where shady government officials and crime bosses such as "Lucky" Luciano threaten the overly-inquisitive thespian with death or, even worse, professional disgrace.

The tangled plot is pretty easy to follow if you just ignore most of it. What's really interesting is the idea of lanky, ego-driven sophisticate Welles weaving his way through all this cloak-and-dagger stuff like a character from one of his own movies. It takes a while to become accustomed to Danny Huston in the role--he looks the part, but you miss that familiar voice. Huston, in fact, sounds more like his father, legendary filmmaker John Huston, than the bass-toned Welles. But he gives it his best shot, and it eventually becomes less of an effort to accept him in the role.
I like the humorous touches such as Welles' frustration with playing second fiddle to his ex-wife in the public eye (reporters keep calling him "Mr. Hayworth"), and a throwaway shot of the slender Welles eagerly stuffing himself with delicious Italian food in an open-air restaurant (we all know where that's going to go). Huston acquits himself convincingly in the more dramatic scenes, whether romancing a reluctant Italian actress named Lea Padovani (Paz Vega), whom he discovers is linked directly to the murder of Dellere, or venturing into perilous situations where he doesn't belong and then having to sweat his way out of them.
Interestingly, director Parker, who helmed 2007's I REALLY HATE MY JOB (which I really hated), makes little attempt to imitate any kind of late-40s filmmaking style. Although the rich colors and noirish lighting are evocative of the era, the look of FADE TO BLACK is a somewhat mismatched combination of formal style and hand-held naturalism which I could never totally settle into. This isn't a big problem, though, and the modern-looking photography makes the "Black Magic" rushes and silent-movie clips that we see (which are very well-done) look more convincing by contrast. Some of Parker's quirky editing choices, while not always successful, are interesting as well.

As the likable Tommaso, Diego Luna (MILK) ably conveys the inner conflict that motivates his character to overcome his fears and plunge into political turmoil, while his loyalty to the impetuous Welles draws him into even deeper peril. Paz Vega (SPANGLISH) is okay as Lea, although I never found her convincing as the stunningly glamorous film star whom Welles is supposed to find so irresistible. In a minor role as Welles' CIA-connected friend Pete Brewster, Christopher Walken gives the film some poster-friendly star power just by strolling through it.
The DVD from Image Entertainment is in 2.35:1 widescreen with Dolby 5.1 surround sound and English and Spanish subtitles. The sole extra is the film's trailer.
While hardly memorable, I found FADE TO BLACK a diverting "what if" tale that takes a while to get warmed up but eventually begins to pay off for the patient viewer. The idea of Orson Welles as the reluctant hero in a real-life thriller which rivals the fictional intrigue of his own movies is fun, and Parker and Huston just manage to pull it off. I wonder, though--if they ever decide to give John Huston the same treatment, who are they going to get to play him?
FADE TO BLACK -- DVD Review by Porfle
Originally posted on 4/12/21
CIRCUS WORLD -- Movie Review by Porfle