(This film was featured at the Third Annual Sin City Horror Fest in las Vegas)
WHERE do I even begin?
WARHOL. WATERS. WISEAU. Names that you've come to know, and even love, as masters in the area of "outre" cinema. MULTIPLE MANIACS. DESPERATE LIVING. PINK FLAMINGOS. FLESH. TRASH. HEAT. BAD. THE ROOM. Titles that have stood the test of time as some of the most genuinely out-there, notable pieces of 'fringe' filmmaking that people have written dissertations and even their Masters' thesis about. Even that last one, where Wiseau seemed to come in late on being "IN" on the joke.
Well, there's no denying it - writer/director Michael Keene is in on it from the very beginning, and if you're not familiar with any of the cinematic artists I just mentioned, chances are that his new film, THE HEAD, won't be for you. AT ALL. Note I said that in caps. There's a good reason behind that. No matter if you can recite the entire script of FEMALE TROUBLE, you still may not be ready for what Keene has in store for you. But you'll certainly know it within the first few minutes.
Think of a film like Alex Cox's REPO MAN. Slava Tsukerman's cult masterpiece, LIQUID SKY. John McNaughton's trippy, blackly comic sci-fi horror opus THE BORROWER.
Now, try to imagine what any of those films would have looked like, if the filmmakers responsible for them didn't have a dime for a budget. And no, I don't mean barely two pennies to rub together. I mean ZIP, NADA, NYET. Oh, and the only thing they had to shoot their projects on was a VHS camcorder from the Eighties.
If you can envision that, you almost have Keene's film in mind.
And in spite of the fact that the movie on the face of it seems absolutely pointless to the very edge of absurdity, it does have a plot. And that absurdity is the point.
Boy-meets-head. Boy-falls-in-love-with-head. Head-completely-ruins-boy's life. Wash, rinse, repeat.
And that's still oversimplifying the glorious outrageousness of Keene's vision. Besides being a loving tribute to all of the ballsy lensers of the Eighties, who had nothing but a vision and let nothing stop them in the realization of it, THE HEAD pops a big, punked-out middle finger up at big-budget, pretty-to-look-at, completely empty multiplex blockbusters, by daring to be, for lack of a better way of putting it - an "anti-movie" movie.
There isn't anything here that would be out of whack in your average Troma film. Lloyd Kaufman would be happy to have it in his library. Hell, he might even try to ACQUIRE it when he hears about it!
And showcasing some of the best punk thrash cuts that Las Vegas has to offer, it may not have won the Festival award for Best Score, but I sure as hell want that soundtrack!
WARHOL. WATERS. WISEAU. Names that you've come to know, and even love, as masters in the area of "outre" cinema. MULTIPLE MANIACS. DESPERATE LIVING. PINK FLAMINGOS. FLESH. TRASH. HEAT. BAD. THE ROOM. Titles that have stood the test of time as some of the most genuinely out-there, notable pieces of 'fringe' filmmaking that people have written dissertations and even their Masters' thesis about. Even that last one, where Wiseau seemed to come in late on being "IN" on the joke.
Well, there's no denying it - writer/director Michael Keene is in on it from the very beginning, and if you're not familiar with any of the cinematic artists I just mentioned, chances are that his new film, THE HEAD, won't be for you. AT ALL. Note I said that in caps. There's a good reason behind that. No matter if you can recite the entire script of FEMALE TROUBLE, you still may not be ready for what Keene has in store for you. But you'll certainly know it within the first few minutes.
Think of a film like Alex Cox's REPO MAN. Slava Tsukerman's cult masterpiece, LIQUID SKY. John McNaughton's trippy, blackly comic sci-fi horror opus THE BORROWER.
Now, try to imagine what any of those films would have looked like, if the filmmakers responsible for them didn't have a dime for a budget. And no, I don't mean barely two pennies to rub together. I mean ZIP, NADA, NYET. Oh, and the only thing they had to shoot their projects on was a VHS camcorder from the Eighties.
If you can envision that, you almost have Keene's film in mind.
And in spite of the fact that the movie on the face of it seems absolutely pointless to the very edge of absurdity, it does have a plot. And that absurdity is the point.
Boy-meets-head. Boy-falls-in-love-with-head. Head-completely-ruins-boy's life. Wash, rinse, repeat.
And that's still oversimplifying the glorious outrageousness of Keene's vision. Besides being a loving tribute to all of the ballsy lensers of the Eighties, who had nothing but a vision and let nothing stop them in the realization of it, THE HEAD pops a big, punked-out middle finger up at big-budget, pretty-to-look-at, completely empty multiplex blockbusters, by daring to be, for lack of a better way of putting it - an "anti-movie" movie.
There isn't anything here that would be out of whack in your average Troma film. Lloyd Kaufman would be happy to have it in his library. Hell, he might even try to ACQUIRE it when he hears about it!
And showcasing some of the best punk thrash cuts that Las Vegas has to offer, it may not have won the Festival award for Best Score, but I sure as hell want that soundtrack!