BAKER STREET | REVIEW
by Eric J Baker
Rare is the friendship both instant and lasting.
Near the close of my seemingly endless trek through college, I worked at an electronics store, briefly as a shitty salesman but mostly supervising general merchandise, where staff turnover was continuous. One morning yet another transient reported for duty. Jaded beyond all recognition, I tossed out my usual, disinterested, “So what’s your deal?”
“Well, I do like Fulci movies,” was the reply.
Fulci? You’re gonna bring up Fulci to me? You must have, because I’m the only one here.
I turned. “So, do you lean toward Zombie or The Beyond?”* BAM! Instant friendship. No turning back.
Lucio Fulci’s "Zombie" (1979), the Citizen Kane of trashy Italian splatter movies set on tropical islands and starring Mia Farrow’s sister, Tisa.
I eventually left the store to finish my damned degree (for christsake!) but continued to meet up with the boys for food and drink. My buddy, who we’ll call ‘Ricky Roma,’ had a quiet intelligence, was undemonstrative (except for the time he ripped his uniform in half – while wearing it – to let management know he disagreed with their policies), and a snarky sense of humor. The kind of guy who loves to insult people without them knowing it.
THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES | REVIEWS
by James Killough
I know, I was supposed to post on Tuesday, but I’m not sure that properly speaking I had a Tuesday. Well, I had sort of one, but it was in Delhi, which wasn’t really a Tuesday in the West, and we’re on a PST time schedule at PFC. I worked flat-out all day, wrapped my last shoot a half hour before I travelled for twenty-eight hours home, eighteen of which were on a non-stop flight from Dubai to LA. We had to skirt the volcano in Iceland and fly south. The journey would have been more of a bitch than it was had it not been for the fact I was able to lie down and get a good night’s sleep, and gurgle when I was awake like a stupefied baby at the gazillion channels of entertainment on Emirates.
I would even be willing to endure a knee-lift like Demi if I thought I stood a chance with Kutcher.
I was going to blog from forty thousand feet, but I felt more inspired to watch inflight Hollywood crap. Most of the plane was watching inflight Bollywood crap, which just goes to show that even when given the choice, Indians would rather keep it real with the caca; we will never prevail over them with our cinematic pablum.
Most inflight entertainment is crap that has just been released on DVD, which sort of justifies this mash-up of reviews. In the case of Virgin Atlantic, which is more prone to have a selection of quality films side by side with the crap, they will often screen a British film that has yet to be released in the States, or an American one that hasn’t been released in the UK. That’s what you get when a former entertainment company owns an airline: better contracts with the film companies. Continue reading