TODAY IN NETWORK AWESOME MAGAZINE
Perhaps it is too easy to take Morrissey for granted.
Already a pop music icon when he released his first solo album, “Viva Hate”, in 1988, Morrissey has only released nine additional albums in the 25 years since then, and only three since Maladjusted in 1997. He has still managed, however, to retain his iconic status regardless of shifting trends in the entertainment industry, and the vacillating vagaries of the music biz.
Morrissey is so cool that his presence only needs to be suggested through album cover sleeves, concert posters, t-shirt logos, and random television clips in his 1988 video “Everyday is Like Sunday” for his power to be felt.
And, of course, anybody who is instantly recognizable by a single name has got to be doing something right...
Anthony Galli currently lives in Athens, Georgia. He shares a birthday with his black cat, Magic, and they both claim Wings of Desire as their favorite film. Anthony has published two books of poetry, Amnesia for Insomniacs and Invisible Idiot.
Shot in Sun Valley, California with $5,000 financed through credit cards, writer-director Donald G. Jackson’s Roller Blade (New World Pictures, 1986) is a 16mm, non-sync sound, hair metal dystopia with maybe-accidental strains of The Holy Mountain(1973, dir. Alejandro Jodorowsky), with a little Road Warrior, a little Alex Cox, a pinch of William Klein.
A few years earlier, Jackson did some pick-up shots with James Cameron for The Terminator, another film that posits a future gone to shit. It was a major theme of the decade. The 1980s had a crime problem. The Cold War still raged with Russia when it was still considered a nuclear threat. Apocalypse narratives satisfied the public’s born-again Christianity and desire for judgement. In Roller Blade, “frontier justice” is meted out when police authority is overwhelmed, getting “tough on crime” the unavoidable -- but secretly enjoyable -- response...
Hannah Arendt smokes throughout her hour-long interview on Zur Person, and this dates it more than almost any other aspect of the whole thing. Her interviewer smokes as well. Smoking indicates a certain discursive climate, a kind of expansive relaxation one would expect from a mid-20th century intellectual. It’s also weird to see a casual smoker on television when we’ve successfully banished them to the alleyways outside bars, but that’s another matter entirely.
She stares at her nails while answering one question and pauses for five seconds before answering another. She speaks in full paragraphs and doesn’t restrict her answers to anything quotable or viral. The camera focuses on her almost entirely -- the only cuts are to different angles. There’s no sense of forced combativeness or point-scoring -- just an attempt at an understanding.
Which is to say, watching it in 2014, it’s super weird...
Joe DeMartino is a Connecticut-based writer who grew up wanting to be Ted Williams, but you would not BELIEVE how hard it is to hit a baseball, so he gave that up because he writes words OK. He talks about exploding suns, video games, karaoke, and other cool shit at his blog. He can be emailed at email@example.com and tweeted at @thetoycannon. He writes about sports elsewhere. The sports sells better.