Rip and Tear!
A gentle reminder that before I started all this THAT’S BELIEVABLE nonsense, I was one of two writers on the bonkers DOOM comic book that gave the world the whole “rip and tear” meme.
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Basquiat's Defacement: Racist Police Brutality and Property Damage
We're looking at the relationship between police brutality and property damage through Jean-Michel Basquiat's Defacement, a painting made to commemorate the murder, by the police, of the artist Michael Stewart.
Basquiat and Stewart shared many things in common which made Basquiat even more sensitive to the tragedy.
Learn more about racism, police brutality, private property through Basquiat's Defacement.
Split a donation between 70+ community bail funds, mutual aid funds, and racial justice organizers: https://secure.actblue.com/donate/bai...
Basquiat's "Defacement": Trauma, Majesty & State Violence:
• Basquiat's "Defacement": Trauma, Maje... "Defacement:" Ambivalence, Identity, and Black Lives Matter:
• "Defacement:" Ambivalence, Identity, ...
Jean Michel Basquiat Documentary The Radiant Child: • Video
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BLOGTOBER 10/11/2022: MONKEY SHINES
MONKEY SHINES drives me crazy for the sole, stupid reason that for much of my life, I have been walking the earth assuming that it is a Stephen King adaptation. This is absolutely not true. I'm sure I just think this because of George Romero's frequent collaboration with King, and because its famous poster so has the bold, exaggerated look of pulp horror covers from the 1980s. MONKEY SHINES is adapted from a novel by British author Michael Stewart, but the screenplay is by Romero himself. It is entirely possible that by 1988, a lot of King's style and approach may have rubbed off on the director, so maybe I'm not completely crazy for harboring this delusion: it's got psychic powers, a domestic animal that goes berserk, and small town drama overlayed with outrageous sci-fi and horror elements. But still, it bugs me that I thought this. I should know better!
MONKEY SHINES is a deeply weird movie that passes for normal due its above-par production value, fine performances, name brand actors, and naturalistic dialog. Perhaps also in the heyday of writers like King and Michael Crichton, this wacky sci-fi thriller, about a paraplegic who forms a corrupting psychic link with his helper monkey, didn't seem so unusual. But inside of this mainstream thriller is a freaky psychodrama with which Freud would have had a field day.
A Capuchin helper monkey named Ella enters the life of law student Allan Mann (Jason Beghe) when an accident renders him paralyzed from the neck down. His days are brightened by Ella's surprising competence and seemingly personal affection for Allan—and by the arrival of her trainer Melanie (Kate McNeil), who also develops personal feelings for Allan. However, the deeper Ella and Allan's bond grows, the more Allan is given over to emotion, struggling to control his escalating rage. Eventually it comes out that Ella is a test subject for an experimental drug, and as the resulting mind meld with Allan makes him more animal than man, it also enables Ella to act out Allan's wrathful impulses.
Somehow the monkey part of the movie isn't as bizarre as the interpersonal drama. When Allan becomes paralyzed, his whole existence turns into a power struggle with the women in his life. His plight begins when he is cuckolded by his own surgeon, and without his girlfriend around to help out, his mother Dorothy (Joyce Van Patten) forces her way into the house. Dorothy forms a sort of infantilizing tag team with the pious Nurse Maryanne (Christine Forrest, Romero's then-wife and frequent collaborator), from whom Melanie and Ella have to defend Allan. Where Maryanne is a castrating school marm type, Dorothy is inappropriately intimate with her son, insisting on bathing him and trying to drive out his new girlfriend. Melanie is mainly worried about Allan's increasing loss of civility…and also, perhaps, about Ella's increasing possessiveness. The monkey is firmly the other woman. There are male antagonists in the film—ambitious, inhumane scientists played by Stanley Tucci and Stephen Root—but they tend to take a back seat to Allan's conflicts with women. From his wheelchair-bound position, Allan needs to literally grow up, wresting power back from his nurse, putting his mother in her place, and choosing a mature relationship over the regressive, obsessive affair with the monkey.
MONKEY SHINES may look like a regular mainstream movie of the period, but with all that going on, it has more in common with a neurotic exploitation movie like THE BABY, or SOMETIMES AUNT MARTHA DOES DREADFUL THINGS, or BUTCHER, BAKER, NIGHTMARE MAKER. This may not be the sort of place where you normally expect to find a bunch of psychoanalytic rumination, but it's sure in there, and it's part of what makes MONKEY SHINES so surprising. That, and the fact that it's not a Stephen King movie.
But, there is one more thing about MONKEY SHINES the surprised me, personally. When I first started dating my husband some eleven years ago, we hit it off immediately, but we seemed like a pretty unlikely pair. I was (am) an inverted little horror ghoul, and he was almost aggressively normal: a friendly, handsome data specialist who liked beer, bikes, and coffee, and whose cultural tastes skewed just a little indie. I wasn't sure what I could have to offer such a person, but on our third date, he made an effort to reach across the aisle by informing me that when he was a kid, his mother's therapist was the former owner of one of the monkeys in MONKEY SHINES. We don't know if it was the star, Boo, or one of the lab extras (probably the latter), but this therapist had a framed lobby card mounted on his waiting room wall featuring the movie's shocking key art. My husband used to have to stare at it while he was waiting for his mother's appointment to end, and when he finally asked about it, he learned that the doctor used to have one of the movie's animal performers. When my then-new boyfriend told me this, I nearly fell out of my chair, and we've been laughing about it ever since.
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The Death of Michael Stewart, 1983
"Basquiat confronts racism in this painting memorializing the murder by white policemen of the black graffiti sprayer Michael Stewart."
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