Friday, March 17, 2017

1970s Czech Horror Part One

WITCHHAMMER
(1970)
Dir - Otakar Vávra
Overall: GOOD

On the surface, Otakar Vávra's Witchhammer, (Kladivo na čarodějnice), is yet another thoroughly dower witch trial film, one that remains so very depressing due to how little of its story is glamorized from its actual historical context.  That particular context here was the Northern Moravia witch trials that took place in the 1670s, specifically here surrounding the fate of priest Kryštof Lautner.  Because these mass, church sanctioned persecutions, tortures, and murders were all likely worse than anything some screenwriter could fabricate for dramatic effect, watching any movie with this subject matter alone can do wonders to ruin your day.  The film gets some extra subtext from the era it was made though, where Czechoslovakian Communist show trials were hardly something just from old history books to meditate on.  As a horror film, this pretty much does not qualify, at least in a conventional sense.  Yes there is nudity, gore-via-torture, deplorable villains, and a clear sexual repression subtext, all of which make their way often into said genre.  In this case though, it is the very serious tone that sets it apart from something like Ken Russel's The Devils per ludicrously-over-the-top example.  Not for the faint of heart, but such movies rarely if at all are.

VALERIE AND HER WEEK OF WONDERS
(1970)
Dir - Jaromil Jireš
Overall: GOOD

Arriving somewhat later in the Czech New Wave, Jaromil Jireš' very otherworldly Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, (Valerie a týden divů), followed his The Cry and The Joke, both seminal films in said movement.  Compared to Juraz Herz' fantastic The Cremator, Valerie is certainly the more "horror" out of this New Wave's offerings and whether you watch it with a large or nonexistent knowledge of film history, it is very bonkers.  "Dreamlike" is a word that is impossible not to use when describing this movie, deliberately so surely.  As surreal as can be and well under an hour and a half, Valerie endlessly jumps from moment to moment, where characters are or may appear to be different characters, monsters, or victims, and they all seem to be aching for the love and affection of the title character, played by a whimsical, thirteen-year old Jaroslava Schallerová.  The soft, bright lighting and often lovely music and scenery go very against the horror movie type, even if they naturally seem part of the same world here with a Nosferatu like, gruesome vampire, a witch burning, and heavily cobwebbed catacombs.  In other words, there is no rule book being utilized and it is a marvelous thing.  Much of Valerie reminds one of both Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural and the USSR classic Viy, but it really exists in its own universe; a universe more horror films could afford to visit now and again.

MORGIANA
(1972)
Dir - Juraz Herz
Overall: GOOD

This adaption of the Alexander Grin novel Jessie and Morgiana from Juraz Herz basically plays like a full length Tales from the Crypt episode, which is a good thing for genre buffs.  Many of the elements in Morgiana are very commonplace; twin sisters (both played by the same actress) and a rivalry over their parents inheritance leads to much sinisterness.  There are some nice hallucination scenes and occasional suspense is maintained as to how exactly everything is going to play out, though the one sister that is doomed seems predetermined from scene one.  That is mostly because there is a clear villain here, down to the obvious "one of them dresses in white and is cheerful and the other is in black and is a total bitch that everyone is afraid of" motif.  Still, having a simple as can be story with virtually zero humor or camp value aside, it is certainly told beautifully.  Herz has a way of moving his camera around that is quite enticing in and of itself, be it with flowing close-ups and zooms to numerous point-of-view shots, representing the feline title character in this case.  This is also one of those "soft focus/vibrant colors" 70s films and as a period piece, it is both Gothic and pretty all at once.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

1970s Sergio Martino Part One

THE CASE OF THE SCORPION'S TAIL

(1971)
Overall: GOOD

Sergio Martino's second giallo outing The Case of the Scorpion's Tail, (Tail of the Scorpion), came out before the superior All the Colors of the Dark which upped the typical knife-stabbing stalker plot with some occult details.  This one still prevails as a more conventional giallo, if not necessarily a landmark in the genre.  There is plenty of wonderful scenery around Athens, Greece and Martino and cinematographer Emilio Foriscot utilize a hefty amount of claustrophobic and killer-point-of-view camera work that flash things up a bit.  The murders are not Argento level ridiculous/awesome, (nor should they be exclusively expected to be), but a few are rather brutal and inventive enough.  A nasty eye-gouging takes place as well as a guy hanging from a roof for dear life who looses his grip in a slicey way.  The script effectively has every character and audience member guessing as to who the black leather clad murderer is and depending on how much of a genre expert you are, you may or may not see the obvious/not obvious/back to obvious twist coming.  Even without going too overboard, (which is certainly welcome where giallo is concerned), this one is plenty sexy and contains a high body count to pretty fairly cross it over into recommendable terrain.

TORSO
(1973)
Overall: GOOD

Giallo or otherwise, perhaps Sergio Martino's most well-known movie Torso, (I corpi presentano tracce di violenza carnale), has a deserving reputation as a slasher-pre-curser and one of the finer ones at that.  So much that has sadly become cliche is front and center here, particularly the misogyny that is oozing in nearly every scene.  It is one thing that women who show their boobs get brutally murdered and then have those very same boobs sliced and diced up at a steady rate, but it is another that nearly every male in the entire film is audibly gawking at every woman on screen, licking their lips whilst creeping on them, or simply beating them up.  This is all more laughably inappropriate than offensive in a modern context and no one could mistake that there is a direct line from this to all the countless, slasher nasties that came in droves starting around the early 80s.  What is excellent about it though is not the gore and copious amounts of naked ladies on the screen, but how stylishly directed it is.  Martino has a flair for racking up the tension and toying with his audience, keeping the killer's identity misleading and killing-off main characters by means of great set-pieces.  Even something that seems eye-ball-rollingly stupid like a clumsy girl falling down the stairs actually comes back into play later in a major plot point way.  Slasher movies need not be a thing anymore and certainly need not follow any of the "rules" that beautifully work here, but this is a borderline-excellent example of when this stuff was still exciting and intelligently done.

THE MOUNTAIN OF THE CANNIBAL GOD
(1978)
Overall: MEH

The jungle cannibal tribe horror sub-genre was in high swing around the late 70s when Sergio Martino got the chance to make an entry into it with The Mountain of the Cannibal God, (La montagna del dio cannibale, Slave of the Cannibal God, Prisoner of the Cannibal God).  Stacy Keach and a forty-two year old Ursula Andress are this movie's version of A-listers and the latter gets lathered in goo while naked, so it certainly delivers the exploitative sex appeal.  Speaking of exploitation, there is also some horrible animal mutilation, bestiality, and one guy's gentiles get forcibly removed.  This is all on top of the standard orgy and human organ feasting moments such movies are required to have.  So it hits all the marks, plus a few extras for the audience who goes for these gross-out things.  Unfortunately (or not depending on one's tastes and stomachs), most of these nasty moments come within the last twenty-minutes, leaving the near hour and a half before it to plod and plod along.  Martino does his best to keep the pace up when you could fit the script for this movie on one page probably, such as with some nice handheld camera work during some jungle rapids scenes.  Still, it does not keep the film from being disastrously boring until we get to the actual cannibals.  Still, the shock value near the end nearly makes the whole ordeal worth it.

Sunday, March 12, 2017

1960s Italian Horror Part Two

SLAUGHTER OF THE VAMPIRES
(1962)
Dir - Roberto Mauri
Overall: MEH

One of the more unremarkable Gothic horror films to come out of Italy in any era, Roberto Mauri's tiny-budgeted Slaughter of the Vampires, (La strage dei vampiri, Curse of the Blood Ghouls), is utterly textbook stuff.   The plot could have been written by a five year old who has seen any "dashing vampire slowly drains the life out of a pretty maiden in a castle" movie.  German television actor Dieter Eppler's nameless lead vampire is a walking cliche in every detail and the husband who does not know what is going on, his wife who is turning into a helpless, bosomy vampiress herself night after night, the doctor who has all the answers that lives a days carriage ride away, and the peasant caretakers and maids all likewise hit every required, run-of-the-mill mark.  None of this nor the music, scenery, or silly dubbing are any better or worse than any other countless movie of exactly the same kind before it.  So this is basically the "problem", in that the film adds absolutely zero new to cinematic vampire lore and adheres to such things so strictly as to be utterly redundant.   It seems like a competently, quickly, and cheaply made, double-feature, export, B-movie theater-filler and that is because that is absolutely what it is.  For genre purists only.

NIGHTMARE CASTLE
(1965)
Dir - Mario Caiano
Overall: MEH

Barbara Steele back again, this time working with Mario Caiano, who tailor made the wonderfully titled Nightmare Castle, (Amanti d’Oltretomba), explicitly for her.  Caiano, (a long time Gothic horror and Edgar Alan Poe fan), wrote the script with Fabio De Agostini and it is more or less a re-design of Mario Bava's Black Sunday or various other "evil doctor has a crazy wife in a haunted castle" type Italian genre movies.  So. it looses some points for originality.  That and the soundtrack is occasionally frustrating.  There is a happy little ditty that one of Barbara Steele's dual-characters plays on the piano that gets thrown into random scenes here or there and it becomes increasingly jarring.  This is made more obvious by the fact that the movie's most successful moments are the spooky ones that play to zero music.  Heartbeat's and some creepy, ambient humming during ALL the "scary" scenes instead of just some of them would have excelled the whole film tenfold.  Steele as usual is laughably dubbed but pitch-perfect otherwise as an alluring scream queen.  As mentioned, she plays two roles here and they both cover opposite ends of the spectrum.  It is definitely worth seeing for Steele fans, but just falls to the slightly below average level as a supernatural mad-scientist/ghost story

MALENKA, THE VAMPIRE'S NIECE
(1969)
Dir - Amando de Ossorio
Overall: WOOF 

Before he went on to make the beloved yet wretchedly-paced Blind Dead series, Amando de Ossorio did something remarkably terrible with his first outing in the genre, the Spanish/Italian joint-effort Malekna, the Vampires Niece, (Fangs of the Living Dead).  Hardly anything works here.  If you are forced to come up with any highlights, it is that the Italian women are heavily chested and easy on the eyes, (Anita Ekberg is present in the lead after all), and some of the sets look rather spooky in a classical, cinematic horror sense.  A combination of an awful script, almost unlistenable dubbing, some of the worst editing there is, and two completely different endings floating around, (neither of which make any sense), result in this film being one of the most absurd in all of European genre inema.  Which is saying something.  Multiple times it seems that large chunks of scenes are missing and the longer the movie goes on, the more it spirals into baffling terrain.  There is comic relief that is absolutely head-scratching and Ekberg's title character may be the dumbest horror movie dame of all time, just as much as Julian Ugarte's Count Walbrooke is one of the dumbest vampires.  No nudity or blood either for what it is worth.  Moving on...

Friday, March 10, 2017

2016 Horror Part One

THE LOVE WITCH
Dir - Anna Biller
Overall: MEH

Anna Biller's The Love Witch is a blatant throwback that recalls a former era of bright colors, Gothic scenery, the occult, clunky dialog, the zoom, screechy violins on the soundtrack, burlesque dancing, and oodles more from late 60s-early 70s genre films.  Aside from the bygone era window dressing, the script is loaded with problems that have nothing to do with it being an unimaginative rehash of older genre cinema that was also loaded with problems.  To say that Biller's work here is unimaginative would be an untruth though.  Her second majorly released movie that filters such B-movie sub-genres through a feminist lens, (the other was 2007's sexplotation semi-parody Viva), what Biller does with the sets, costumes, music, editing, and actors is visually impressive.  Nearly every shot truly looks like it came from the intended time period.  There are also modern cars, modern cell phones, and at least one modern toilet though that throw it into a contemporary setting which in effect makes it confusing at best and uneven at worst.  Issues persist with sub-par acting, lousy dialog, a few dreadful set pieces, and the unforgiving length.  This movie drags along several times and quite easily did not have to be two hours long.  Such random scenes like a spontaneous, Wiccan Ren Faire in the woods and an even more embarrassing one in a bar where angry, 21st century villagers go into a "burn the witch" frenzy are just bad bad, not "good" bad movie bad.  

LIGHTS OUT
Dir - David F. Sandberg
Overall: WOOF   

The premise to Swedish director David F. Sandberg's full-length debut Lights Out has nothing going against it, but certainly nothing going for it either if that makes sense.  Vengeful ghost/insane asylum/family dysfunction/stupid kid, your standard fare to be sure.  It also does that really annoying thing where at one point nobody in the movie is a skeptic anymore and the mystery as to what is going on is long solved, but they all continue to not openly talk about the supernatural stuff that is going on.  In addition to this, more plot revelations unnecessarily take up screen time.  The execution by Sandberg is also very unremarkable, be it even annoying.  There are jump scares a plenty, an insulting lack of logic, and would-be scary things are unintentionally comical instead.  The ghost itself is one of those creaky, lanky, lightning fast moving, head-tilt things that makes loud noises out of nowhere and how any modern audience completely over-exposed to such cliche-adhering specters can still be frightened by them is anyone's guess.  The whole movie falls into such a predicament where it is so genre-pandering as to deflate any of its intended creepiness.

DON'T BREATHE
Dir - Fede Alvarez
Overall: GOOD

This is quite an improvement for filmmaker Fede Alvarez over the teeeeeeeeerible Evil Dead remake he unfortunately debuted with.  Don't Breathe has a few minor script holes here or there, (one character should jhave died or at least been crippled several scenes earlier than he finally was and why would a man doing this shit in his basement install a security system that automatically alarms the cops when triggered, per example), but nothing anywhere takes you out of the movie because Alvarez does a superb job in structuring the film.  It becomes very clear why the movie is called what it is as this is one of the most tense thrillers in recent memory.  As history proves, it is a tricky genre to pull off where characters more often than not are doing idiotic things that make the audience laugh in frustration instead of feeling mind-numbing dread like they are supposed to.  No good horror movie is complete without some kind of mystery and the reveals for this one is almost comically disturbing.  Though this is not a total game-changer, it is still a skillfully put-together, supernatural-less horror movie that gets nearly everything spot-on in its construction.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

2015 Horror Part Three

THE INVITATION
Dir - Karyn Kusama
Overall: GOOD 

Filmmaker Karyn Kusama's latest offering The Invitation is an interesting departure from her previous, horror/comedy entry Jennifer's Body.  Any humor that can be found here is in witnessing how odd some of these people behave during a dinner party.  This is one of the main themes of The Invitation; how social niceties both can blind people to apparent danger and ease others into subtle or even blatant manipulation.  There is plenty more than that though, particularly how the dealing of one's grief can further make that person susceptible to harmful influence.  As is often the case, it is impossible not to inject a viewer's own emotions into such things and more often than not, we can get annoyed that the protagonists are not acting the way we think we would act in such a situation.  Yet Kusama handles her lot here rather well, even if some of their behavior is a little too eccentric and the endgame is a tad thin, plot-wise.  When the reveal does hit at the end, the tension has been very slowly mounting to the point where the finale is easy to spot at least several scenes if not many scenes earlier.  Regardless, everything holds up due to good acting all around, good atmosphere, and only one kind-of jump scare.

GREEN ROOM
Dir - Jeremy Saulnier
Overall: MEH

It is not necessarily fair to give Jeremy Saulnier's Green Room a negative review as it is certainly not in the ballpark of being bad, nor even sub-par really.  The premise itself is rather uncomfortable, be it deliberately so.  A run-of-the-mill punk band getting a last minute gig at a skinhead club and then some murder happening, Saulnier plays it virtually humor-less which becomes quite increasingly heavy.  The Patrick Stewart led, Portland based Neo-Nazis are without any question the bad guys here, but this is not a message movie and refuses to beat one over the head with how evil beliefs beget evil people.  Similar to Saulnier's previous Blue Ruin, the best moments here are the unexpected ones where characters start to make cleverly scripted speeches or give us some crucial plot points only to get cut-off with a shotgun blast to the head or a ferocious dog attack instead.  Such subverting shocks coupled with some well-handed suspense make it a successfully intense watch.  Then again, the elephant in the room questions are A) why would you take a last minute gig to play for an exclusively white supremacist crowd in the first place and then B) proceed to open your set with The Dead Kennedy's "Nazi Scum Fuck Off"?  Kinda playing with stupid fire there

KRAMPUS
Dir - Michael Dougherty
Overall: MEH 

Having CGI gingerbread men with Alvin and the Chipmunk voices attacking someone with a nail gun and an alcoholic, fat Aunt using a firearm while the camera zooms up on her to deliver a groan-level one-liner are just a few moments that set the comedic tone for Michael Dougherty's holiday horror romp Krampus.  The overboard elements are not limited to the well-thought-out schlock though, as even the opening title credits depict what can only be described as Hollywood's version of what Christmas shopping from hell would look like.  The amount of decorations and scenery on display to make the whole thing Christmasy are exactly on par with how ridiculous the town in Dougherty's Trick 'r Treat looked, so this all seems to be the director's intended style.  In such a PG-13 context, things can never get too disturbingly dark, but the would-be creepy imagery jives somewhat lukewarmly with the over-the-top hokiness of everything else.  Numerous low-to-no-budget horror films based off the same Alpine folklore have littered Redboxes, dollar DVD bins, and steaming services elsewhere, so in a way this more generously budgeted attempt can be seen as the be-all-end-all version.  It is not for everyone's tastes, but for those who prefer subtlety left at the doorstep, this will certainly suffice.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Logan

LOGAN
(2017)
Dir - James Mangold
Overall: GOOD

Comic book movies are in an interesting state.  In fact the movie industry in general is.  More money than ever before is plowed into a handful of select blockbusters, nearly all of which are films that continue, start-over, or adapt a pre-existing franchise in some medium.  While at the same time, less money, promotion, and effort from major studios, (which are becoming more and more monopolized since probably in our lifetime it is looking like Disney will own even the air we breathe), are being given to smaller, not-based-on-any-previous-source-material movies than ever before.  It is an inevitable shift because A) the internet and B) inflation.  Complaining about it will pretty much get one nowhere.  So let us not bother with that.

When it comes to movies that have superheroes in them, I pretty much spend my disposable income to go see all of them in a movie theater.  Except Suicide Squad of course.  So they get my money willingly and fortunately, most of these movies I see are pretty good.  Very few of them are great, but that is OK too because when they ARE great, they are really great and stand-out above the "worth my cash" ones that come out, several deep a year.  Also a splendid thing is that in the last two decades when comic book adaptations have begun to become serious business and are being made in more hefty numbers, a few advances seem to be being made.  Last years Deadpool per example proved that a Fox/Marvel movie could be both intentionally ridiculous and very R rated and this directly impacted what we have here, 2017's Logan; Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart's last hurrah as both Wolverine and Professor Charles Xavier respectfully.

Give it time Mr. Stewart.  Give it time...

So how was this final curtain bow of a superhero movie?  Pretty solid.  It was also pretty violent and there was enough profanity from virtually every character in it to make up for the lack of profanity in every other X-Men movie combined, besides the aforementioned Deadpool of course.  Both good things.  Why not have Wolverine hacking limbs in CGI laced, bloody detail that makes you wince while dropping the F bomb like Lewis Black wrote the script?  Ask any comic book fan and most if not all will probably tell you that Logan should have been doing this since day one.

That brings us to the MARVELous, (har, har), Hugh Jackman, who has been playing the animistic, adamantium-boned, healing machine Wolverine for seventeen years now.  Patrick Stewart likewise gave his first Prof. X performance in that same X-Men movie that same number of years ago, but Jackman has appeared on screen nine times now with the claws, a record thus far that probably Robert Downey Jr. will be the first to break.  These many years as the uber-brooding mutant, and Jackman looks and IS understandably old.  At forty-eight, he more closely resembles a seventy-eight year old here, as is appropriate for the (very) vaguely Old Man Logan storyline.  This was no doubt deliberate as from the very first shot of the movie, it is pretty clear that these are the last days of Wolverine we are witnessing and he is very much done.  Just done with it all.

That moment when looking at your fake wounds in a mirror for the bazillionth time is no longer worth the fat pay check.

In the cinematic universe that Fox has created for the X-Men, Jackman has done a more than admirable job.  Yeah he is about a foot taller than Wolverine is "supposed" to be, but from X-Men till now, he has portrayed an arc for this beloved character that is absolutely pitch perfect.  He has killed a lot, seen a lot, done a lot, and the people he loves or that love him are all fucking dead.  This comes back to the curse of the immortal, where at first being indestructible might seem great, but the longer you stick around and the more people you outlive, the more mind-numbingly brutal day-to-day-life becomes.  Nobody can tell Logan to cheer up, (even dear old, demented Xavier, try as he might).  Jackman's scowl and battered-down limp says it all.  Walk that long in Wolverine's shoes and the only thing bombarding your mind is "when will this shit finally end?".

This whole concept has been part of Wolverine's arc for a long, long time now and the movie version is no different.  I am sad to see Jackman go, but understand that just like the character, enough is enough.  The actor himself obviously is not getting any younger, so eight films in, let us make the ninth count.  Let us use profanity, brutally kill lots of people where red stuff comes out of their hacked bodies, even show some quick boobies, and wrap up the rather tragic life of James Howlett as a stylistic Western that literally quotes Shane in the finale.  Yeah that speech was a little eye-ball rolling btw, but hell, it deserves a pass.

Her other mutant ability is to be able to memorize entire monologues from movies after having seen them only once.

I am glad that Logan did not pander to the comic book dork too much.  In general, I feel we should get past this.  Captain America: Civil War could be the to-date biggest offender of "fuck it, let's just put everyone on screen together cause fans will eat this shit up" motif, where making a really fantastic movie that works as a movie comes second to supplying the screen with superhero geek masturbation.  I certainly understand this as each film has to top itself, but the novelty of The Avengers is something to leave in the rear-view mirror.  I recall saying "this is so fucking cool" just to see Captain America and Iron Man share their first screen shot together, but now, I just want a better movie and again, these films are good, but why not make them better?

The MCU is going to get more and more crammed up, frame by frame and that is a given.  It is going to take everyone in top form to take down Thanos afterall.  I expect those movies to be fist-throwing spectacles of course; pure popcorn fare.  Go big and make everybody yell in slow motion.  These movies have their place I suppose, but they need not necessarily be the norm.  Look at the cliche, go-to-example of superior comic book movie making The Dark Knight.  That film was not great because it had two iconic Batman villains in it and he got to punch Joker in the face a lot.  It was great because the cinematic scope of it was huge yet firmly rooted in reality and every character's motivation was crystal clear and only helped build upon that scope.  Take all the costumes and comic book imagery out in other words and it was still a damn good movie.

And now Christopher Nolan gets to make a hugely budgeted WWII film.  Everybody wins!

The refreshing thing all the same about Logan is here we are at the end of an arc, even an era, and the story is simple, the characters are sparse, and it is a far more emotionally pleasing film that any X-Men movie ever was.  This is what we need more of.  Take a single character and tell a story, a good story.  We all want sequels and we all want to spend our money on sequels.  Shit, we all binge-watch TV shows on Netflix now, so everybody and their mother likes to see the story continue.  There is a wide, vast world of fascinating mutants whose personal journeys we can patiently explore through the years and films.  As First Class brilliantly proved, you can even keep recasting these same mutants and keep telling their stories and the movie going public minds not a tit.

Logan is something beautiful to aspire to.  A bloody bow on a long-in-the-wrapping package.  Wolverine can have his rest.  Let us now open up the gates to the others in Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and see where their stories lead.  So many can carry their own films and franchises and I am confident movie executives will realize this even if in their mind, they are just scraping the barrel.  Also if it is a prequel and Hugh Jackman wants to swing by and say "fuck off" on camera for a quick cameo, who amongst us can honestly complain?

Bang-up job good sir.  You've earned the right to dance.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Musicians Who Are Better Than You Thought (Bassist and Drummer Edition)

DISCLAIMER:

I originally wrote this silly little article a few months back with the intention to send it to cracked.com for publication on their site.  But because I did the process bass-ackwards and didn't read their submission policy till AFTER writing all this crap, turns out they don't take complete articles for submissions.  They only take basic outlines, which they want on their workshop forum for other users/writers to chime in on.  Since I already have a blog to post whatever nonsense I want and because I'm lazy, I wasn't about to work backwards and turn a finished essay into a mere synopsis.  Not when I have all these witty and brilliant jokes to go along with these pictures I used.  So fuck it, I'll just put this here and maybe give the cracked format a go some other day.

MUSICIANS WHO ARE BETTER THAN YOU THOUGHT (Bassist and Drummer Edition)

Rhythm sections aren't necessarily subject to more scrutiny than other sections.  After all, Sir Paul McCartney is a section to a rhythm section.  And you can't get more respectable than that right?


"Wonderful Christmas Time" notwithstanding.

But there are a handful of famous musicians who seem to get the shaft unfairly at times.  Whether they be underrated, really bad at one thing but good at something else, kind of an asshole, simply overlooked, or just Meg White, perhaps a little more love is due to said individuals.

4.  GENE SIMMONS


Of course I was gonna defend a Kiss member on here.  Kiss' demonic poster boy/old Jewish man in a suite Gene Simmons is known for many things.  Namely his long tongue, Wilt-Chamberlain-level sexual conquests, his kind-of-I-guess-if-we-absolutely-had-to-compare better than The Osbourne's reality show, never partaking of alcohol or recreational drugs, saying really stupid shit when being interviewed, and of course finding money to be incredibly delicious.

In all of these things, Mr. Simmons is quite vocal.  When it comes to adhering to the rock star-as-businessman aesthetic, this guy pretty much wrote the book.

Yes, literally.

But despite having an ego that would make certain orange, U.S. President's blush even oranger in fond admiration, oddly the one thing that Gene Simmons is relatively humble about is his actual music.  Sure he'll be the first to tell you even if you don't ask how many platinum records Kiss has and how many arenas they sell out on tour, but you're kinda hard pressed to hear him ever pat himself on the back as to how good he can be at playing and writing songs.  When he actually is playing and writing songs mind you.

Cause here's the thing.  Not only Gene but Kiss in general have kinda had a thing for pawning some of their creative duties off on others throughout their career, regularly at times using other people to play their instruments or write their hooks.  This was particularly the case in the 80's when Paul Stanley was writing all the band's semi-hits with Desmond Child, a man who theoretically can't NOT write anything catchy as all get out.

Catchy?  Yes.  Ear-stabbingly-horrible? Also yes.

Also around this time, Gene was kinda notoriously phoning-in his quota of songs per album while off banging famous celebrities, (more so), setting up a rather crappy record label, producing other bands, and spending a lot of time trying to become an actor.  And when his two most famous roles of the decade are a toss-up between a mad scientist who gets done-in by his own acid spewing robot spiders and an evil hermaphrodite called Velvet Ron Ragner, it's pretty safe to say that he was never destined to win an Oscar.

But when Gene Simmons actually picks up an instrument, he can do rather competent things.  Examples you say?  Take one of the last Kiss albums of the 70's to feature no outside musicians on it, Rock and Roll Over.  On the track "Mr. Speed", (one of the countless Kiss songs remarkably better than "Rock and Roll All Nite" that the band never plays live), Gene's bass part is arguably the most memorable thing in the song.  It's independent from the guitar riff and very McCartney-esque, as is his playing on "Sure Know Something" off Dynasty, "Hard Luck Woman" also off Rock and Roll Over, and the instrumental "Love Theme from Kiss" off their self-titled debut.

Just in case you didn't click on that hermaphrodite clip before, you're now welcome.

But these are all songs mostly written by Paul Stanley you say?  Well Gene did pen a couple of gems on his lonesome in the form of "Calling Dr. Love", "Deuce", "Watchin' You", "Almost Human", "Larger Than Life", and "Got Love for Sale".  But did you also know the man is quite fond of ballads?  On his almost-entirely-not-good Kiss solo album Gene Simmons, one of the rare highlights is this little ditty inspired by the Beatles called "See You Tonite".  Also on that album is "Always Near You/Nowhere to Hide", another string-heavy bit of semi-schmaltz that nevertheless has some impressive falsetto screaming from the Demon during the fade-out.  And when it comes to balls-to-the-groin metal screaming, look no further than "Unholy" or "Fits Like a Glove", the latter containing the only known aggressive vocalization of the word "butter" ever committed to tape.  And a damn good one at that.

Gene's lyrics walk the line between embarrassing and charmingly juvenile, (which let's be honest, is a Kiss staple in and of itself), but when we're talking tasteful musicianship, vocals fitting to the song, and riffs, melodies, and choruses that are as pleasing as any from any famous rock band out there, the guy who would like each and every one of you to be buried in a coffin with his face on it does in fact seem to know what he's doing.

"Alcohol is bad.  Unless it's chilled in a Kiss Kasket" - actual quote.  Probably.
3. MEG WHITE


There's a lot of musicians out there who technically aren't very good.  Most of them are probably resolved to playing in a garage somewhere with their friends, wondering why none of their neighbors seem to like their twenty-forth run through of "What I Got".  But sometimes a musician with questionable talent will break through to the mainstream and end up selling a lot of records with their abilities or lack thereof on them.

Nothing to see here.

And Meg White is one of those musicians.  Even the most generous of music critics would lose their post at Rolling Stone magazine if they even said that Meg White knew what a drum roll is.  But even though she can't play "Tom Sawyer", (probably not even in Rock Band form), there is one thing and one thing only that she can do really well.  And that is to play really stupid and above all else, catchy shit on a drum set.

Think of how many songs you could spot from just the drum beat alone?  "Wipe-Out" by the Sufaris?  "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" by Paul Simon?  "Sunday Bloody Sunday" from U2?  Now granted Meg White can only play about four drum beats total, but the ones she chooses to lay down unmistakably make the White Stripes music sound way heavier than it is.  Plus you can easily add "My Doorbell" to that list of instantly recognizable drum grooves.

Finally, a piano-jam you can headbang to.

There is some truth to be told that Meg White's limitations inadvertently make her a good drummer.  Not only has Jack White gone on record since the White Stripes began to defend his bandmate, but even contemporary rock god Dave Grohl seems very much to be a fan.

Most admirers of White will bring up the ole less-is-more approach.  After all, Moe Tucker was the "drummer" in the Velvet Underground in the same way that guy who dances in the Mighty Mighty Bosstones is technically a band member.  And the Velvet Underground invented alternative music so clearly Miss Tucker was onto something.  Even if she ended up working at Wal-Mart.

While we're on the subject of comparing Meg White to other drummers, take the Black Keys Patrick Carney per example.  Just as quickly as he's been to say how great Meg White is at the drums, Jack White has equally never shyed away from calling the Black Keys copycats as both bands started off rocking the two person, guitar and drums line-up.  They both played strip-down blues and they both have crayon colors in their name as well.

Though the answer to the "Which guitar player looks uncannily like Johnny Depp" question has never been in doubt.

Now this may be personal opinion, but Carney seems more interested in chopping up his drum parts then laying down the bare-minimum to make peoples heads bob.  Which is all fine mind you.  Meg White on the other hand in lacking Carney's comparatively better chops and imagination on a drum set, more often than not plays what a child would play to Jack White's tunes and the results are less distracting and more slamming says me.

Though since the White Stripes disbanded, it doesn't seem like too many musicians are clambering to get Meg White back behind the kit.  Bob Odenkirk of all people had her do something for Let's Go to Prison, but apparently the studio heads fall into the "Meg White sucks hard" demographic and removed her song from it.  But hey, at least Ray LaMontagne fancied her enough to write her a little somethin'.

Thankfully he didn't call it "The Drummer Everyone Loves to Hate".
2.  JOHN DEACON


Now I trust that most people reading this are in fact fully aware of how great John Deacon is.  I've only met one asshole in my life who doesn't like Queen.  The rest of you beautiful human beings assuredly know better.  But that said, when this band is mentioned in conversation, two things seem to regularly come up.  That being "Freddie Mercury was great" and "You know, Freddie Mercury was really, really great don't ya think?".  Understandably because yes, Freddie Mercury was in fact really, really great.

Even people who aren't born yet know "Bohemian Rhapsody", "We Will Rock You", and "We Are the Champions".  We've all heard them to the point of overkill and even if Queen put these three singles out one after the other and never recorded another song, they'd probably still be hailed as rock royalty.

Royalty.  Queen.  The band's name is Queen.  Moving on.

But let's go beyond those three classic rock staples and bring up "Another One Bites the Dust" shall we?  Not only is this song still played on the radio nearly as much as the ones about bohemians, champions, and rocking stuff, but it was of course a gargantuan hit at the time.  It reached number one on the Billboard charts, spent more weeks on the charts than any other song that year, and for an English rock band, hit an unprecedented number two spot on the Hot Soul Singles charts.  And you know who wrote said jam?

Not this guy.  Though seriously, he was really, really great.

John Deacon, (the band's quiet, reserved, and long retired bass player), penned "Another One Bites the Dust" all by himself.  As the last member of the band to join, Deacon was throughout his career overshadowed by not only nearly everything Freddie Mercury did on and off stage, but also in musician circles by the incredibly unique abilities of guitarist Brian May, who's impossible to reproduce guitar tone and ability to make it sound like a goddamn orchestra put him in the ranks of Jimmy Page as far as axe gods where concerned.  Even Roger Taylor got more press by being a certified groupie hound and delivering those ridiculously high-pitched, dog-whistle vocal harmonies.

Though John did follow the "All musicians in the 1980s must look ridiculous" law as effortlessly as any.

But while all that was going on, good ole John Deacon was modestly writing some of the bands other most memorable songs.  Besides "Another One Bites the Dust" and starting with the album Sheer Heart Attack, Deacon had at least one song per Queen album.  Casual Queen fans would certainly recognize "You're My Best Friend" and "I Want to Break Free" as two other of his hefty hits for the band.  He also has one of their most wonderful ballads "Spread Your Wings", the Caribbean styled "Who Needs You", and very good album track "You and I" to his credit.

As both Brian May and Roger Taylor seem hellbent to keep touring with frontmen who very much aren't Freddie Mercury, John Deacon has taken that very rare, respectable high-road and has almost completely disappeared from the lime-light.  Since 1997 he's been off the radar, though he continues to oversee much of the band's finances.  About the most rock star thing you'll catch him doing nowadays is buying a newspaper and then probably rolling around his piles of "Another One Bites the Dust" money.

Presumably in this hat.
1.  LARS ULRICH



Now now, settle thee down metalheads.  Lars Ulrich for all intents and purposes is the Meg White of metal drummers.  Or actually maybe Meg White is the Lars Ulrich of bluesy, alternative critic music if we're talking chronology here.  Either will suffice.  And similarly to White, you pretty much have to go out of your way to defend Lars' drumming.  It's far more often than not a given that he kinda sucks at hitting thing with sticks.

Besides truthful memes, people on the interets seem determined to prove it.

Mr. Ulrich's general problem with his playing is that it very often doesn't fit the song.  When he's supposed to be laid back and simple, he tends to overplay.  Take the pretty shitty "The Memory Remains" off the incredibly shitty Re-Load album, a moody, dark pop song basically where he can't stop doing his super slow, chop-less drum fills all over the place.  Then on the opposite end of the spectrum, look at the title track off of ...And Justice for All, arguably the band's most complex song where Lars isn't playing complex ENOUGH and because of that, his lack of technicality becomes laughable at best, jarring at worst.

So yeah, stacked up against literally every other successful metal or even hard rock drummer, Lars pretty much gets his ass handed to him. Want an impossible to argue example?  Just partake of prog-metal freaks Between the Buried and Me's Blake Richardson's dazzling and more importantly APPROPRIATE performance on their cover of "Blackened", which make's Mr. Ulrich's original go at the song rather embarrassing in comparison.

But that's just when it comes to drumming.  And that's only part of Lars Ulrich's job.  Look at the writing credits on every Metallica album.  Go ahead.  Most of you own the Black Album if not at least one of the four albums that came out before it.  You know, the good ones.

If your Metallica collection is limited to just this, you should probably go sit in the corner and think about what you did.

Notice anything?  Namely that Lars' name is listed as a songwriter on almost every single great Metallica song?  And you know how many instruments Lars plays?  If you said just one, the drums, you'd be correct.  And you know how hard it is for a drummer to get a writing credit on a popular song?  Just ask drummer Hunt Sales who provided one of the most famous drum beats of all time on Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life".  You know the only two names that appear as writers on that song?  You'd be right to assume that Iggy Pop and producer David Bowie took it upon themselves to leave Sales contribution out of the equation.

Though to be fair, cocaine doesn't grown on trees so that money had to come from somewhere.

Lars has been credited for years in Metallica as pretty much being the arrangement guy.  For non-musicians, this basically means he's the one who comes up with how many times to play a riff and how to get from one to the other.  That kinda stuff.  And when you're talking about a genre that's almost entirely based on neck-breaking riffage and making them work, this is rather important.

Any listen to virtually any Metallica song will beat you over the head with how good the arrangements are.  Even their latest record shows a dedication to the details that's still impressive.  Though the songs or at least the lyrics very much are not impressive.  Also the album cover delivers unabashedly at huffing dong.  But anyway, the Metallica album I can't stop talking about 'cause it's so goddamn fantastic ...And Justice for All in particular was the most complicated musically the band ever produced and hardly any riff on it goes into another the same way or gets played the same number of times.  That's all Lars' doing and is due to his seemingly excellent ear for song structure.

Another Lars can't play the drums meme?  Ask and ye shall receive.

Lars also gained notoriety for calling Napster out on file-sharing, but low and behold, turns out he was absolutely right about how it all but completely wrecked the music industry.  Despite what Camp Chaos would have us believe, that wasn't so much about how Lars needed that Napster money to build an addition to his mansion so much as it was a very well-educated assumption that file sharing would make it incredibly difficult for less successful musicians than he to make a living.  Here we are all these years later and yup, many a well known metal musician still has a day job.  Lars called it, simple as that.

All this said though, parading around drunk after making millions of dollars selling his art collection in the Some Kind of Monster documentary probably didn't help his "rich douchebag wants to sue people" image none.

Nothing to see here either.