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SNEAK PEAK DARK FICTION, THE GREATER GOO, PART 2

Raffaele Pezzella just dropped the second half of my Dark Fiction, David Lynch-inspired story, "The Greater Goo" for Eighth Tower Magazine through Patreon. (See February 1 post regarding Part 1.)

"The Greater Goo" references storylines and concepts found in Twin Peaks, Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Eraserhead and The Elephant Man. It features a strange entity (a "goo," if one will) inspired by both the Eraserhead baby and "the Arm" from Twin Peaks: The Return. The creature absorbs (rather like the Blob), collecting and cultivating flesh, but also the thoughts that swarm around it. (For the record, there is, in fact, a smidgeon of Todd Solondz's Welcome to the Dollhouse in the tale, due to the goo's friend, a downtrodden lass.)

One can access "The Greater Goo" at

https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/FMfcgzQfBkFbHKhKjkSslBQNBgjkFfsq

FOR THE FUN OF IT:

 

I SAW FALLOUT, SEASON 2: AN ALTERNATE FUTURE

 

I prefer Season 2 of Amazon Prime's Fallout over the first. Why's that? It's because after some reflection on the initial season, I suspected that its Cold War-derived warning held insinuations that don't jive with my socio-political mindset. But is my suspicion justified? Gosh, I can't say for certain, so why dare put Fallout (adapted for the screen, I must add, by Graham Warner and Geneva Robertson-Dworet) in the same estranging league as such controversial examples as The Boys, Gen V and Preacher, despite its implicating flashbacks and intermittent winks? 

No matter what's contained (i.e., hidden) in Season 1, Season 2 moved without any obvious, subversive incident or condescending rhetoric (or so it seemed). In a way, it's nearer the frivolous The Electric State, an alternate-reality submission that I do enjoy, even though several know-it-alls have told me that I shouldn't. Ah, what do know-it-alls know? Nothing, really. 

Getting back to my point, I do believe Season 2 is better, more seamless, than the founding run. For one, Kyle MacLachlan's Hank MacLean, former overseer of Vault 33, enters fully exposed. We now know that Hank's one sick son of a gun, and in Season 2's case, rather snarky, even if his related antics don't necessitate any chuckles. (He seems to get them, though, all the same.) 

For me, Season 2's top highlight, however, is Ella Purnell's Lucy MacLean, aka Sugarbomb, and Walton Goggins' Ghoul, aka Cooper Howard, former cowboy star, forever hounded by his past, as well as Justin Theroux's slicker-than-slick, mind-manipulating Robert House. Lucy and Ghoul came to comprise one of the best dynamic duos to go down the dystopic pike. (Their loyal Dogmeat stands as a steadfast companion for them, too, in the Trigger, Silver, Hero and Devil vein, and much the same can be said of Johnny Pemberton's along-for-the-ride Thaddeus, a ghoul with a heart of gold, who performs in humble contrast to Macaulay Culkin's steely-eyed Kaiser Lacerta Lagate, but even the ardent, "Roman" commander was cordial to dear Lucy, despite crucifying her.) 

Yep, I really enjoyed following these unlikely "pals," even if some segues could have (should have) been expanded. For example, the Elvis, ghoul gang needn't have been so come-and-go. Its members should have become a significant, ongoing presence and worked as a sprawling salute to Gary Panter's Invasion of the Elvis Zombies, but oh well ... (As a form of compensation, the scene where Lucy shoots Ghoul's rope during his hanging is a terrific tribute to The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, when Blondie lets Tuco dangle a spell and then ka-bang! I sure dug that allusion. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is, after all, my favorite western.)

I also appreciate Aaron Moton's Maximus' search-for-a-better-tomorrow quest, as it invokes a Logan's Run/Planet of the Apes/Mad Max vibe, with specks of Excalibur bridging the gaps, thanks to the cumbersome Brotherhood of Steel. As with Lucy and Ghoul, Maximus' journey could have progressed all on its own. (His valiant showdown with the dreaded Deathclaws more than suggests his dauntless stamina). Such could have designated him as a post-apocalyptic Iron Man, if one will, with a strong self-discovery component attached. (Now that I think of it, self-discovery is the rocket fuel behind most of Fallout's tricky tracks and something that would [and should] characterize any decent video game: the successful, electronic niche from which this live-action saga emanates.)

On the saga's domestic side, I found Annabel O' Hagen's Stephanie Harper (a Hank gal underneath) and Dave Register's Chet to be a most identifiable couple. Their relationship is strained, if not forced, but through it comes credibility. Their tension reflects what many couples (fledgling or seasoned) experience. Hey, even high fantasy needs some realism. (Stephanie's back story is quite anchored, defining her in a way that's honest, even if suspicious in its guarded progression, exuding a perceptible aloofness that not only agitates Chet, but Leslie Uggums' cynical Betty Pearson.) 

On all fronts, I gotta say that this quaint, parallel universe now plays as an unswerving and pleasing spread of the old and the new, but the enduring, antiquated context (with all those soothing, satirical songs) is the icing on the cake. The culmination feels real comfortable, even when it's not, which I guess is the franchise's aesthetic intent. 

PINUP TIME: J.J. NORTH AT 60 FEET

 

I SAW GEORGE A. ROMERO'S RESIDENT EVIL

George A. Romero's Resident Evil is a 2023 documentary (placed in recent circulation), directed by Brian Salisbury, who cowrote with Robbie McGregor. It explores the Pittsburgh filmmaker's rejected vision for a theatrical adaptation of the video-game franchise, inspired in large part by his original, Dead trilogy.

Romero did, in fact, direct a commercial for the sequel game to Capcom's Resident Evil, known in Japan as Biohazard, which led his consideration for a film version of the Umbrella Corporation's heedless horrors, though we learn that Romero had reservations on taking the directorial reins for the feature, stating that, while making the commercial, he felt he was plagiarizing his own material. 

The documentary opens with a rundown of Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead, followed by a retrospective on Resident Evil/Biohazard's genesis and its obvious nods to Romero's trilogy. Such demonstrates that there wouldn't be a Resident Evil if not for Romero (and John Russo)'s zombie mythology.

Astute fans and contributors associated with both franchises share explicated details, including actor Norman England, actor Christian Stavrakis, actor Jim Krut (Dawn of the Dead's helicopter zombie), actor Pat Jenkiewcz (a Resident Evil, commercial zombie), reviewer James D. Rolfe, Romero archivist Ben Rubin, producer/editor Michael Felsher, director/Romero protege Dick Demick and Resident Evil designer Kenichi Iwao. Their reflections are linked by narrator Pablo Kuntz, who voiced the original, Resident Evil game. 

Problems with Romero's intended adaptation occurred when the owners of Resident's movie rights, Constantin Film (known for its involvement in Wolfgang Peterson's The NeverEnding Story and Das Boot, as well as Oley Sassone's "unreleased" The Fantastic Four) balked at the carnage contained in Romero's script (despite such existing in the games). As a result of desiring something more restrained, Romero's contract was terminated and Paul W. S. Anderson's loose but stylized version was greenlit, which proved violent in its own right, even if geared in the action-movie vein. 

A substantial sum of the documentary covers Romero's faithful-to-the-source script, but also Resident Evil's many intricacies. Depending on one's appreciation or hunger for Resident Evil, the latter may either delight or frustrate, considering that Romero wasn't a direct participant in such, beyond his works' outside influence. Nevertheless, for the sake of historical bridging, the approach is sensible, thorough and essential. 

The documentary ends with Romero's passing, handled with great pathos by its on-screen commentators. A few of Romero's other unfinished projects are referenced during the conclusion, but the Resident Evil hiccup remains his most profound, came-close-but-never-was. Who knows? Romero's adaptation may very well exist in an alternate reality, laden not only by his deft conceptualization, but with stand-out additives from Berni Wrightson, Tom Savini and Greg Nicotero. 

George A. Romero's Resident Evil dangles this prospect to the point that one can almost taste it, and because of this, Salisbury and McGregor's effort deserves high marks for its scrupulous and impassioned rumination. 

For the full film, visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZejDDfFAIvc

&

https://tubitv.com/movies/100045845/george-a-romero-s-resident-evil?start=true&tracking=google-feed&utm_source=google-feed&startPos=0

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