Zero Effect: Tenth Anniversary of Daryl Zero

Above: The title card for 1998's Zero Effect.

This week marks the tenth anniversary of Zero Effect, a quirky flick set in Portland, Oregon and originally released (and mostly overlooked) on January 30, 1998. Written and directed by Jake Kasdan (son the famed of Lawrence Kasdan), the film is an offbeat detective story allegedly based on an old Sherlock Holmes story (or so the online sources say). Considering the nature and tone of the film, it should be mentioned in the same breath as The Big Lebowski and Napoleon Dynamite, but even in the era of DVD and that medium's ability to turn a previously ignored film into a cult movie, the fates have not truly bestowed that kindness upon this film.

The film stars Bill Pullman as the brilliant and mysterious Daryl Zero, Ben Stiller as his dutiful assistant Steve Arlo, Ryan O'Neal as corrupt businessman and Zero client Gregory Stark, Kim Dickens as paramedic and Zero love interest Gloria Sullivan, and Angela Featherstone as Arlo's long suffering girlfriend Jess, who just wants Arlo to quit Zero's employ.

Above: Daryl Zero (Bill Pullman) and Steve Arlo (Ben Stiller).

In the film's tagline, Zero is billed as "the world's most private detective." He is an introvert and a hermit who uses Arlo as his eyes and ears in the world. Although uneven in some places, the script offers a tale of blackmail and the consequences of decisions long ago made. Stark, through Arlo, hires Zero to investigate a series of threatening letters he has received regarding some vague offense the nature of which he won't share. Meanwhile, Arlo, faces pressure from his girlfriend, Jess, who doesn't appreciate his time away and his strange relationship with Zero. To solve the case, Zero must leave his comfort zone as an observer and interact with Sullivan. It is the performances that make the film worth watching: Stiller as Arlo, Zero's trusted, though exhausted, sidekick, and Zero himself, played wonderfully by Pullman. His delivery of the lines is perfectly deadpan at times, as it is in his philosophy of investigation:

Now, a few words on looking for things. When you go looking for something specific, your chances of finding it are very bad. Because of all the things in the world, you're only looking for one of them. When you go looking for anything at all, your chances of finding it are very good. Because of all the things in the world, you're sure to find some of them.

If the authenticity of this purported 1998 chat transcript is to be believed, Pullman described Zero as follows shortly before the film's release: "[He is] a brilliant detective . . . [who] may have a little amphetamine problem and [has] never kissed the girl. . . . It's a Sherlock Holmes story for the 90's. Ben Stiller is my Watson, my lawyer Arlo."

Lebowski, for its part, was least just over a month later, in the first week of March of 1998. Like that film, this too is a movie about an odd detective, although Zero is a hyper-eccentric introvert rather than a relic from 1960s counterculture. But Lebowski has endured, and become a part of the pop culture landscape in a way that Zero Effect simply has not.

Above: Screen cap of the film's official site (click to enlarge).

So to observe the tenth anniversary of the film, Chronological Snobbery will be dedicating this week to the film and its components. A handy gazetteer delineates the week's coverage:

Tuesday (1/29): The Soundtrack (An exploration of the film's official soundtrack, featuring new interviews with Esthero, Neil Gust of Heatmiser, Mike Viola of the Candy Butchers, and Chris Stillwell and Michael Andrews of the Greyboy Allstars).

Wednesday (1/30): Dan Bern's Unreleased Title Track (Featuring a new interview with folk musician Dan Bern regarding his unreleased song, "Zero Effect," a tune told from the point of view of Gloria Sullivan, the Kim Dickens character)

Thursday (1/31): The Television Pilot (Featuring about as much information as can be assembled from public sources about the 2002 failed television pilot based on the film and a handful of interviews with people associated with that project)

Friday (2/1): Behind the Scenes (Featuring new interviews with members of the film's supporting cast, day players, and technical crew about the making of the film)

Above: Arlo (Stiller) talks business with Gregory Stark (Ryan O'Neal).

To boot, Chronological Snobbery asked nine notable bloggers of varying backgrounds and viewpoints to watch and report upon their views of the film, ten years after its release. They are a diverse lot, and not of their thoughts are positive. Some forgive the film's faults as the natural result of a first time director. Others heap scorn upon Stiller for his post-Zero Effect oeuvre. Others praise the film as the type of late 1990s indie film worthy of praise and adulation. Still another finally investigates in some detail the rumor that the film is based upon Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes story, "A Scandal in Bohemia."

Excerpts from their posts are included below, but readers can click upon the accompanying links in order to peruse the full review and commentary of these contributors:

"The highlight of the movie is Pullman's performance as the neurotic Zero - a pretzel hoarding, power ballad writing recluse who can solve mysteries of global import with a single phone call. The role of Zero maybe the high-point of Pullman's career, where we usually see him suffering in second-banana roles or cheesy cliched movies [like the president in Independence Day]. I had my doubts about the movie when I saw that Pullman was the lead, but he pulls off the role brilliantly. Equally good is Ben Stiller's performance as Steve Arlo, Zero's utterly flummoxed assistant. I think Kasdan, who also wrote the movie, did the audience a disservice by not involving Stiller's character more into the plot. Instead, Arlo is relegated to comedic relief - if that's possible in a comedy." Digital Boy, "A Look Back: Zero Effect," Ramblings of a 21st Century Digital Boy, (1/27/08).

"The similarities between 'A Scandal in Bohemia' and Zero Effect run deeper than general theme . . . [I]n both stories, blackmail, though perhaps justified, is the crime, the blackmailer's secret is revealed during a false fire alarm, a mutual respect emerges between detective and blackmailer, and they meet only while the detective is in disguise (though cunningly identified by blackmailer). When Zero first meets Gloria, he asks her if she is a paramedic; puzzled, she affirms the claim, then asks him how he knew. Zero replies, 'I'm very intuitive.' Later, we learn, in a typically Holmesian display of 'deduction,' that it was from the very distinctive smell of iodine that Zero inferred her prior presence in a hospital or ambulance. Likewise, in 'A Scandal in Bohemia,' Holmes "deduces" that Watson has returned to medical practice from a similar smell . . . ." - Horus Kemwer, "The Method of Daryl Zero," Against the Modern World, (1/27/08).

Above: Zero (Pullman) woos Gloria Sullivan (Kim Dickens), or vice versa.

"Our social standards begin with small talk; it is only at moments of vulnerability that we reveal our true feelings and desires. Being aware of this as well as having an extensive knowledge base to work from, Daryl Zero is able to blend into the throng of people seamlessly. He creates superficial friendships with his unknowing clients to observe them and to deduce missing information (as Dr. House says, 'All patients lie.'). As long as the friendships remain superficial, he can navigate through our societal standards invisibly. For (probably) the first time, a case (this case) requires him to move beyond the superficial friendship, whereupon he losses some objectivity, but more importantly becomes sloppy." - Matthew, "Zero Effect: An Examination of Social Behavior," Matthew's MySpace Blog, (1/27/08).

Above: Zero (Pullman) and Arlo (Stiller) walk and talk shop.

"As for the movie itself, it held up pretty well, in that the story was still interesting and engaging and the “mystery” aspect was better than many you see these days with all their forced twists and turns. I was struck immediately with the memory of how much I used to like Ben Stiller, and he is good here, good like he was before he totally oversaturated the market with himself and all his neurotic over the top performances. I really like him here as the straight man." - The 1979 Semi-Finalist, "Zero Effect . . . 10 Year Anniversary Post," 1979 Semi-Finalist, (1/27/08).

"Perhaps these characters had lived in Kasdan's head too long as a writer, and as a director, he was unable to get the performances out of his seasoned cast. Fresh out of school and with a father like Lawrence Kasdan to call in favors, movies can get made. Perhaps had Kasdan waited a bit before bringing this movie to the screen, the movie would have found its footing. . . . My guess is that I am missing something here that has kept the film alive with a certain group of fans. But on a second viewing, there's still not much to pull me in. For a movie that seems to think it has some great characters, they seem derivative. For a movie that ostensibly is about deduction and detecting a mystery, the plot just isn't really engaging enough to really feel like the greatest challenge of the career of Daryl Zero, which it must be, lest why would the movie exist?" - The League, "Zero Effect - 10 Years Later," The League of Melbotis, (1/27/08).

Above: The lovely Gloria Sullivan (Dickens) at the gym.

"I've watched and re-watched Zero Effect, less amused than confused. That is not to say that your work did not amuse me--it certainly did. It's also not to say that the plot of Zero Effect didn't make sense--sure, it did. Still, there's been something nettlesome about each viewing of Zero Effect. More to the point, there's something nettlesome about you, Jake ," - T.S.T., "Dear Jake Kasdan," Digest, (1/27/08).

"Yet in 'The Zero Effect' we . . . get a brief peek at the disaster that Stiller was to come to accompany: The narcissistic, whiney, rubber-faced-angry-little-bitch that would come to define his character portfolio up to the present. Arlo, Stiller’s character, is pepetually complaining about not getting his due, is perpetually obsessing about his relative import ( or lack thereof ), or being frustrated about his situation using the same 3 stock faces. . . . . These indictments should be sufficient to show that Zero Effect marked the death of Ben Stiller auteur, thinker, and risk-taker to Ben Stiller, chief participant of pablum. It hurts, because goddammit Ben, you have the skills, we saw them accidentally escape in your cameo in Anchorman, but dammit man, the penis-inflation sight-gag from Dodgeball? That from the guy who played in, but not too much, to great presentation in 'Zero Effect'. . . . [I]f if you’re looking for the genetic ancestor of all Ben Stiller roles since 1992, you can look to Zero Effect. If you’re writing your master’s drama thesis on the fecund period of Pullman, look to Zero Effect. Otherwise pick up 7% Solution, by Doyle, it’s conceit is much more compelling – and there’s no open-mouthed gaping stiller freeze frame that you will need to endure." - Steven G. Harms, "The Zero Effect: 10-year anniversary," Stevengharms.net, (1/27/08).

Above: Arlo (Stiller) and his girlfriend, Jess (Angela Featherstone).

"Kasdan seems to be searching for a style in this film, which isn’t a surprise because it’s his first, and I thought that his direction was uneven. I disliked the opening, with the cross cutting between Arlo negotiating a deal for Zero’s services with Stark and complaining about Zero in another. It was an effective way to dose out exposition but too cute. It is the kind of technique that Kasdan could pull of now with more economy and precision," - Adam Greene, "Zero Effect," Dude, He's The Stallion, (1/27/08).

"It is customary, in introductory logic courses, to treat logic as some sort of language in which we can express, more clearly, statements of ordinary language. Accordingly, students will be asked to translate ordinary language into logic and vice versa, which only becomes interesting in the context of quantifier ambiguities. Philosophers, always in need for yet more examples to give as exercises to inquisitive students, need look no further than the movie Zero Effect," madamechauchat, "Determining translation," Atoms to Zeppelins, (1/27/08).

Above: Gloria Sullivan (Dickens) in a noirish pose.

Contemporary critical response in 1998 was tepid. Noting that "the brilliant nerd hero from the Pacific Northwest is overdue in movies," Janet Maslin of The New York Times, writing on the day of the film's release, described Zero as "an aging hippie Sherlock Holmes with the household habits of a Howard Hughes." Yet in Maslin's opinion, the film could not overcome certain hurdles: "For all its admirable ambitions, this loosely focused first feature has the makings of a better buddy story than detective tale anyhow." Two weeks before, on January 12, 1998, Harvey S. Karten, in a review posted on rec.arts.movies.reviews, wrote:

Yet for all its wisecracks and mock-noir ambiance, "The Zero Effect" comes across as a minor movie, one which does not utilize the considerable talents of Bill Pullman and a puffy Ryan O'Neal. The scene in Zero's quarters that features the detective strumming wildly on his guitar while standing on his mattress is almost an embarrassment. For his part, Ben Stiller comes across as so stiff he is virtually lifeless. You wonder how this guy, who should have had the name "Zero," would be courted heavily by his seductive girl friend Jess (Angela Featherstone), whom he virtually ignores whenever his boss calls him away on an assignment however absurd.

As a cinema-goer, I have often wondered what it must be like for an actor or director to wake up on the morning that their latest film is released. Was the film shot so long ago that on the day of its ultimate release, they feel overly distant from it? Is it like a campaign volunteer waking up on election day knowing that all the work is (mostly) done and the rest is in the hands of the fates? Do they grimace knowing that there remain more publicity and marketing duties? Does it matter whether they are proud of it?

Above: Stark (Ryan O'Neal) is apprehensive.

I suspect that Pullman, Stiller, Kasdan, and Dickens were proud enough of Zero Effect (although they probably knew it was far too quirky to attract mainstream attention). Ten years later, though, the film has only a slight presence on the Internets; it has no Wiki, it has few pages dedicated to its remembrance. None of its catchphrases have been invoked in any of the rapidly coming and going Internet memes. (Although at least one person has attempted a Daryl Zero separated at birth post, while another has created a Daryl Zero MySpace profile.). Some time ago, one Liz Crisostomo created an online gallery of Zero's various identities including Nick Carmine, Mitchell Hodgemeyer, Harold Burgess, and Sergio Knight. Crisostomo also includes links to 1998 press coverage.

But there is little else.

Without further ado, Chronological Snobbery inaugurates this week of posts to commemorate the tenth anniversary of this little remembered film from the late 1990s. Revisit this post in the coming days and the above referenced gazeetteer will provide direct links to the next posts.

The Week That Was (1/20 - 1/25)

Heath Ledger and Mary Kate Olsen: "Well, Heath Ledger died. That's something to post, but I'll be honest. I never saw the knight movie, or the cowboy movie, so . . . I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen anything the guy ever did. Mostly, I keep wondering how much the media is going to ghoulishly dwell on his death during the release of The Dark Knight," The League, "Nothing to post," The League of Melbotis, (1/22/08). And dwell the national press will when that film, destined to be a blockbuster even before the untimely death of the young star who would would play its villain and foil to Christian Bale's Batman. But the death of of Heath Ledger will haunt not only that film but also the life and career of Mary Kate Olsen who, by attempting to manage the crisis as it initially unfolded, became an unusual, and perhaps even suspicious, player in the events of that day. The Associated Press reported:

At 3:17 p.m., she made a call to the Olsen twin that lasted 49 seconds. At 3:20 p.m., she made another call, lasting 1 minute and 39 seconds. At 3:24 p.m., another call to Olsen. That one lasted 21 seconds.

Then, at 3:26 p.m., Wolozin called 911.

At some point during the frenzy, Olsen, who was in California, summoned her personal security guards to the apartment to help with the situation, the New York Police Department said.

Paramedics arrived at 3:33 p.m. and actually went up in the elevator to the apartment with Olsen's security guards. Paramedics did not allow the security guards into the bedroom where Ledger died, and they declared him dead at 3:36 p.m. — 19 minutes after the first call to Olsen.

The masseuse called Olsen a final time at 3:34 p.m. The duration of that call was unknown.

This series of events will no doubt become fodder in every interview the currently 21 year old Ms. Olsen gives for the duration of her (presumably) long life to come. Why she, and the masseuse who called her, did not immediately call 911 will no doubt remain a mystery. Why Olsen dispatched her "private security" to the scene (who arrived as quickly as the first responders) is also a curiousity; were they sent to dispose of something embarrassing (though unconnected to the events leading up to Ledger's death)? Or is Ms. Olsen, as a very wealthy young woman, so far removed from daily society that she felt it was her crisis to handle?

We will never know, and she will likely never, ever comment thereupon. But there was another party to that series of telephone calls, the masseuse, and one wonders if she will keep mum.

What November Will Bring: "Romney v. Clinton: if these are the nominees of the Janus-faced party in November, an interesting question presents itself: will more votes be cast for positive or negative reasons?" - Horus Kemwer, "Worst Case Scenario," Against the Modern World, (1/20/08) (emphasis in original). Taking that a step farther, if Mr. Romney and Mrs. Clinton are the nominees in November, will any votes be cast at all?

Lessons from the Death of River Phoenix (October 31, 1993)

As speculation as to the root cause of the death of Heath Ledger abounds on the Internets, long time denizens of Usenet recall similar speculation and commentary in the wake of the death of the actor River Phoenix, dead at 23, early on Halloween morning, October 31, 1993. Looking to the Usenet posts of those frequenting the newsgroups that year, we see similar, almost identical, responses to the death of a young actor known for choosing more substantive roles. Much of the discussion occurred on alt.books.anne-rice because Phoenix was set to play the interviewer in the film that would become 1994's Interview with a Vampire. (The role would be assumed by Christian Slater upon the death of Phoenix.). The aftermath of Phoenix's death even saw the poor taste that would later become associated with the Internet during the initial reporting of celebrity deaths, including a thread entitled "HAHAHAHA RIVER PHOENIX IS DEAD!!!!" on the then popular group, rec.arts.movies. Key posts on the topic included:

"I was sitting and reading this post (and the couple on alt.vampyres that appeared) and thinking "this can't be true," so I checked the on-line UPI newsfeed we have here. It is indeed true. River Phoenix died yesterday. I don't know what of. I think that's tragic. He was so young. Plus, and this will sound terribly selfish, he was one of the few characters in the movie I didn't think was horribly miscast. I wonder what this will mean for filming, since the movie started fimlimng [sic] already. Unless they did something funky and shot only scenes with Louis or Lestat or something, they will have to recast and reshoot the movie. I would imagine that this would, at the least, put off the release date," Susan Spaet of Amherst College, writing in this post on alt.books.anne-rice, on October 31, 1993, the very day of Phoenix's death.

"The rumors that I have heard have all attributed River Pheonix's death to an overdose of cocaine or heroin. Not that such rumors are uncommon when an actor dies under any circumstances . . . ." - K. Esme of the University of South California, writing in this post on alt.books.anne-rice, on November 1, 1993.

"Despite rumors of cocaine and/or valium overdose, the probable cause of River Phoenix's death is that he was dropped on his head outside the club. If dropped just so, humans will go into convulsions. If he'd been taking cocaine, that would have potentiated the convulsions, while the valium should have had anticonvulsant effects." - SG of Ohio State University, writing in this post on alt.books.anne-rice, on November 4, 1993.

"The cause of death could have been drugs, but I really dislike it when it is automatically assumed that the cause of a person's death is due to drugs. It feels to me to be a gross value judgement on a person who is no longer capable of defending his/herself," - Melissa Woo of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, writing in this post on alt.books.anne-rice, on November 4, 1993.

"So what if River Phoenix died? People die every day from drug use, I don't see anyone bitching about that! I think River was a great actor and it's a shame that he had to die, but IT HAPPENS, to a lot of people, EVERY DAY. What if River Phoenix wasn't famous, would you be bitching then? I don`t think so. Let him rest. These things happen." - MisFiT of Purdue University, writing in this post in rec.arts.movies, on November 6, 1993.

"I have been reading this thread for several hours now and I am appalled by the absolute lack of respect (or should that be the blatant disrespect) shown by many of the more educated contributors. Sure, there are many social issues related to River Phoenix's death, but surely these can be discussed in a mature and reasonable manner by people following up these threads. River Phoenix may have died from a drug overdose. He may have died from natural causes. I myself do not know - and we probably will never know. The American Media Juggernaut marches on expousing [sic] the 'truth' irregardless. I may be a dumbass Australian with no opinion to speak of, but I certainly will miss the talent of River Phoenix. If he died of a drug overdose, it was his - and *his* decision alone to take said drugs. Millions of people die each year of drug related complications. It takes the death of one person to bring the immense drug problem to the forefront of discussion," Colin Neeson of the Queensland Department of Primary Industries, writing in this post on rec.arts.movies, November 7, 1993.

The Internet has come a long way?

The Legacy of Budd Dwyer

Not too long ago, those with an alleged conscience in the mainstream media debated the issue of what images, if any, were appropriate to broadcast in the wake of Saddam Hussein's execution. The botched execution was newsworthy, of course, but what standards, if any, does simple decency impose upon the modern mainstream media? How does the media balance that which is newsworthy with that which is appropriate to air? As society becomes more and more desensitized to violence, standards are lowered and then institutionalized. But with so many alternative sources of information these days, the mainstream media doesn't want to be scooped by some fly-by-night website, so mainstream journalists rush to air that which they might not have even considered airing only a few years before. What to do?

This is an old, and sometimes macabre, debate. Twenty one years ago today, on January 22, 1987, R. Budd Dwyer, an embattled Pennsylvania politician, took his own life in front of assembled journalists during a press conference. That very day, Paul Vathis, a Pulitzer Prize winning Associated Press photographer, offered this account of the awful scene:

I didn't think there was going to be a problem. Dwyer was passing out handouts. I was waiting for him to bring out the handout saying he finally had resigned. He was nearing the end of the news conference.

He took a blast at the press. We thought the news conference was about to end. He never said anything about resigning.

I was waiting for him to break down and cry. I was waiting for the emotional picture at the end of the conference.

Then he held up his hands when he saw some of the television people starting to take down their cameras and start to leave.

He told the newspeople, "You don't want to take down your equipment yet."

Then he passed out three different envelopes to aides in the room. He called the people up, and I thought they were his letters of resignation.

He put his hand into the brown manila envelope, and I thought he was going to pass out handouts on his resignation. I took a picture of him with his hand inside the envelope.

Then all of a sudden I saw the pistol come out, and I started shooting pictures. He held the pistol in front of his chest with the barrel up. Then he held it outright, with his right hand straight out toward the right wall. And he put his left hand out, trying to stop people from approaching. Duke Horshock, his press secretary, was on his left.

When he pulled the pistol out, everybody started yelling, "Don't, Budd! Budd, don't!"I was standing on a chair between two television guys. Nothing went through my mind except to keep shooting.

Dwyer brought the pistol back and held it in front of his chest and put the barrel into the top of his mouth. And he pulled the damn trigger. I kept shooting my pictures during the whole sequence. I was shocked, personally shocked. From professional experience, I just kept taking pictures. After the bullet went in, it was a gory scene. He went straight down to the floor and went under the window, leaning against the wall.¹

In those circles where such sinister things are celebrated, Dwyer's suicide has been referenced (and the audio has been sampled) in songs over the years (which no doubt causes pain to those family and friends if they chance across them). Filter's "Hey Man Nice Shot," about the Dwyer shooting, has an eerie and ominous feel to it (and for that reason was utilized in episodes of both "Homicide: Life on the Street" and "The X-Files," if memory serves).

It's certainly difficult to imagine an act more selfish than Dwyer's last. "You don't want to take down your equipment just yet"? He purposefully traumatized those assembled, and by offing himself in such a way, he must have made it impossible for his family and friends to fully recover from his death. How could they? When one's intentional death becomes some type of bizarre political theatre, family members and friends can never recuperate from it. But that is why the event is still being discussed a score and a year later.

1. "Painfully Close to the News," Newsday, (January 23, 1987).

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

In the fall of 1984, U2 released "Pride (In The Name of Love)" as the first single of its fourth album, The Unforgettable Fire. Written about Martin Luther King, Jr., the song would become one of the band's signature pieces, appearing later on as a live version on their 1988 album, Rattle and Hum, as well as subsequent greatest hits packages. The song's Wikipedia entry contains an interesting history of the song and subsequent criticism by both musical journalists as well as Bono itself. But as its subject is of relevance on this holiday, I present its lyrics:

"Pride (In the Name of Love")
Written and Performed by U2

One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One come he to justify
One man to overthrow

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resist
One man washed on an empty beach.
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

(Nobody like you)

Early morning, April 4
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

The Week That Was (1/13 - 1/18)

Above: Summer Glau as the new model Terminator.

"3 billion human lives ended on August 29th, 1997. The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war Judgment Day. They lived only to face a new nightmare: the war against the machines. The computer which controlled the machines, Skynet, sent two Terminators back through time. Their mission: to destroy the leader of the human resistance, John Connor, my son. The first Terminator was programmed to strike at me in the year 1984, before John was born. It failed. The second was set to strike at John himself when he was still a child. As before, the resistance was able to send a lone warrior, a protector for John. It was just a question of which one of them would reach him first," Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton), narrating past and future events from her vantage point in 1991, in Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991).

This past week saw the airing of the first two episodes of "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles," a television reboot of the franchise which saw its first cinematic installment in 1984, its second in 1991, and its third in 2003. The title character and protagonist, Sarah Connor (Lena Headey), scowls her way through the first two episodes, all the while attempting to protect her son, John (Thomas Dekker), the purported future leader of an underground resistance movement. A new, younger model Terminator (Summer Glau, of "Firefly" and "The 4400" and apparently now doomed to second rate television science fiction) arrives to protect John Conner from the plethora of other Terminators pursuing various related and unrelated missions in the past. Predictably, there are inconsistencies between the new series and the films which came before, although they appear to arise mostly from the writers' laziness.

In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003), viewers learn that Sarah Connor died in 1997. In fact, according to Wikipedia, her fate is sealed as follows:

In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, Sarah Connor is already dead, having succumbed to leukemia in 1997, after the events of Terminator 2, following a three year battle with the disease. She lived long enough to see the original 1997 "judgment day" pass without incident. Her ashes were spread at sea while a casket containing a cache of weapons was placed for John to find at a false grave site. The epitaph on her mausoleum niche reads: No fate but what we make.

Thus, according to the official Terminator continuity, Sarah Connor dies of natural causes in 1997. In the new television series, this detail is overlooked and even ignored. The narrative begins in 1999 - two years after the supposed death of Sarah Connor - yet she still lives.

Steanso, writing over at The Adventures of Steanso, liked the series and wrote :

I thought that The Sarah Connor Chronicles did a decent job of maintaining the overall feel and flow of the Terminator movies (the small handful of clunky, dumb lines on the show were delivered by Terminators, sadly, but that's also kind of in keeping with the movies), and I was glad to see that the producers didn't try to "lighten up" the mood of the overall Terminator storyline. Some people will undoubtedly have problems with the casting of Summer Glau as a cute, young, female Terminator (I have my reservations about this as well), but the focus seems to be primarily upon Lena Headey as Sarah Connor, and I thought that she carried off the role of the paranoid warrior/mommy pretty well.

In the original two Terminator films, Connor is played by Linda Hamilton, far more intense and intimidating than Headey has revealed herself to be playing the same character. As aforementioned, the character does not appeared in the third film. Hamilton is 17 years older than Headey, and it shows. In fact, Headey was born in 1973, making her 11 years old at the time of the events of the first film and 18 years old and the time of the second. Hamilton, however, was born in 1956, meaning she was in her late twenties at the time of the release of the first film and approximately 35 at the time of the second film. Although the actor playing a character need not be the same age as that character, Headey looks young enough to call into question the timeline of the entire franchise, all the more parlous when a film is about time. (There is some question about when Terminator 2 takes place, in 1991, the year of its release, or sometime later in the mid-1990s, as John Connor, born in 1984 or 1985 as per the events of the first film, is ten years old at the time of Terminator 2: Judgment Day.).

Behold the evolution of the Sarah Connor character:

Above: Kyle Reese (Michael Biehn) and Sarah Connor (Linda Hamiltion) in 1984's The Terminator.

Above: Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) in 1991's Terminator 2: Judgment Day.

Above: Sarah Connor (Lena Headey) in 2008's "Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles" (which is actually set in 1999 at first, then 2007 after a leap forward in time).

Off Duty XI

What better way to recognize that the parlous perils of one's profession can preempt a blog post than to recognize Elsa Lanchester, the title character in 1935's Bride of Frankenstein? At 33, she was still a relatively young actress when she played the role with which she would forever be associated. Despite the fame and notoriety of her role as the monster's wife, few modern viewers know her name, or any other role which she played over the remaining forty five years of her career. (Her last film role was in 1980's Murder by Death; she died in 1986).

Let It Be . . . Naked (2003)

In 2003, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr sanctioned a minimalist re-release of the Beatles' final album, Let It Be, originally released in May of 1970. (Apparently, George Harrison also approved of this idea before his death to cancer in 2001.). Originally, the now thirty eight year old album was saddled with orchestration and other production value characteristic of Phil Spector, the "Wall of Sound" auteur who is now remembered more for his bizarre behavior and second degree murder mistrial just late last year.

It was John Lennon who invited Spector to jazz up the Let It Be recording sessions -- a move which irked McCartney. In his editorial review of the re-release, Jerry McCulley of Amazon.com summarizes the turbulent history of the Let It Be recording sessions and the drama thereof:

Re-recorded, remixed, overdubbed and repackaged--all before its 1970 American release, mind you--Let It Be has long been the most second-guessed album in the Beatles otherwise sterling catalog. This curious, three-decade-late, stripped-down rethink offers up yet another spin on what started as a back-to-the-roots album/documentary project called Get Back in January, 1969, but ended up as the band's de facto swan song 18 months later. Paul McCartney in particular has long been irked by producer Phil Spector's grandiose orchestra and choir overdubs to the title track and "The Long and Winding Road," and indeed the "bare" versions here have a distinct, plaintive charm lacking in Spector's typical pomp. All the various snippets of studio and live chatter that seasoned the original have been removed, leaving the recordings to be judged on their essentially live-in-the-studio merits. If the intent was to "de-Spectorize" the album, the inclusion of John Lennon's 1968 benefit track "Across the Universe" and George Harrison's "I Me Mine" (which marked the last-ever Beatles session in January, 1970) in their original versions seems equally odd, the legendary producer having appended them to the album's original track listing in the first place. The rambling "bonus disc" of conversation and song snippets culled from hundreds of hours of session and film tapes may fascinate diehard fans, but it also underscores the murky, often unfocused state of affairs the Fabs found themselves in during the last year of their remarkable career.

Ordinarily, one should remain skeptical of an artist's attempt to rework, reconfigure or reinvigorate an artistic work from his or her past. Artists, like everyone else, change with the passage of time, and it is natural to look back upon one's work and occasionally wince. It is, however, entirely unnecessary for creators of artistic works to revisit their oeuvre decades later and make minor, and oftentimes tacky, edits and alterations based on subsequent changes in one's style or the latest developments in technology. Indeed, it was such advances in technology, in part, that prompted McCartney and Starr in this endeavor, according to this statement quoted on E! Online News:

If we had today's technology back then, it would sound like this because this is the noise we made in the studio. It's all exactly as it was in the room. You're right there now.

Ah, technological advances. George Lucas menaced his original Star Wars trilogy with computer generated clutter for their 1997 special edition re-releases. (Lucas's malfeasance turned the dark, austere Empire Strikes Back into an overcooked Saturday morning nightmare.). Steven Spielberg couldn't resist the opportunity to digitally delete firearms from the hands of certain actors in E.T. simply because his politics had changed. Even the long irrelevant Axl Rose was still tinkering with "Sweet Child of Mine" as of 1999.

Alas, poor Axl, we knew him.

But does Let It Be present a different situation? Does it make a difference that McCartney originally conceived of the album in this fashion? Apparently, the Beatles broke apart due to creative differences before the album could be completed, and thereupon, Lennon approached Spector. Was McCartney prevented from realizing his vision for the album? (Apologists for Lucas will say that his stalwart vision of the trilogy was prevented by the state of technology at the time, but like most things Lucas says these days, that's utter and complete nonsense. He just wants to sell more Pepsi to make tie-in profits to reinvest into his production company in order to release more computer generated clutter in order to sell more Pepsi to make tie-in profits to reinvest into his production company and ad infinitum, as nauseum, et cetera.).

On Violence in Cinema

With a dearth of scripted television, the only respite from the onslaught of reality programming are the obituaries of actors who passed away years ago. In its obituary of Gregory Peck, who passed away in 2003, The New York Times recounted a 1989 speech in which Peck warned of the perils of centralized media ownership. Accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Film Institute 19 years ago, Peck observed:

If these Mount Everests of the financial world are going to labor and bring forth still more pictures with people being blown to bits with bazookas and automatic assault rifles with no gory detail left unexploited, if they are going to encourage anxious, ambitious actors, directors, writers and producers to continue their assault on the English language by reducing the vocabularies of their characters to half a dozen words, with one colorful but overused Anglo-Saxon verb and one unbeautiful Anglo-Saxon noun covering just about every situation, then I would like to suggest that they stop and think about this: making millions is not the whole ball game, fellows. Pride of workmanship is worth more. Artistry is worth more.

Apparently, Peck was no fan of the Die Hard trilogy. Now, separate and apart from his fears of media concentration, does Peck make a more general point? Are the mind-numbingly formulaic action flicks with their half-baked quips transforming the movie-going public into vile vulgarians? Is Hollywood devilishly lowering our standards year by year so that we come to expect less and less from their products? [An aside: Have you noticed how vulgar teen comedies have become in the last decade? Compare 1980s flicks like The Breakfast Club to more recent releases, like the Scary Movie flicks and Not Another Teen Movie, both of which feature almost astonishing levels of profanity and innuendo. This is evolution?]

Now compare Peck's rhetoric to the acerbic statements of filmmaker Tim McCann, whose scathing diagnosis of Hollywood (originally published in Film Threat) made the rounds on these, our Internets, several years ago and near the time of Peck's death:

There will never be absolute integrity in the [film] business. But never before has there been such a rash of s--t films, and a void of meaningful American work, that has seen the theatre screen, as there has been over the last ten years. At least when your kid is sent to school and fed McDonald's or whatever sugar water and fried lard they serve him at lunch, you know the government has issued limits on the amount of feces that is allowable in his food. Using that as a parallel, there are no equivalent limits for the cultural s--t we are being poisoned with these days. Considering how many brilliant and talented people there are in this country, it's a scandal.

There have, of course, always been bad movies, but they have become the rule, rather than the exception to the rule. For every stellar film, like 2006's Once, 2004's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 2000's Requiem for a Dream, and High Fidelity, we must suffer through a dozen or so variations of The Runaway Bride or You've Got Mail, both of which were recooked versions of Pretty Woman and Sleepless in Seattle, respectively. Who is to blame? Are the actors and directors simply unable to tell that a project is awful at the script stage, or do they not care in the least so long as the paycheck arrives? The Hollywood purveyors of such nonsense, or the movie-going public which shells out the cash for movie tickets and DVDs?

The Week That Was (1/6 - 1/11)

The Proletariat Houston: "On Feb. 4, Houston's hippest bar will close it's doors for good, a casualty of the new Richmond light rail project. . . . . Those of us with a long history with the prole will not only mourn its passing, but remember it and its owner, and the opportunities they have offered us for so long, with reverence and respect. God willing, may it rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and bless the Houston scene again one day," Horus Kemwer, "The Proletariat, RIP," (1/6/08). Mr. Kemwer laments the imminent passing of Houston's bar for the hip, The Proletariat, located at 903 Richmond in that metropolis. I am no stranger to such posts. Above is an image of a flier promoting a gig at the venue featuring The Donkeys, Southerly, and Casiotone for the Painfully Alone (which has, obviously, one of the greatest band names in recent memory). The venues we haunt come and go, and years from now, some future chronological snob will offer forth a nostalgic post featuring memories and remembrances from the then long dead Proletariat. But at that distance time in the future, the cool and the hip will have some as of yet unknown place to congregate which, when it passes, will be equally eulogized and missed. Such is the cycle of venue nostalgia.

Remembering Sean Young as Racheal the Replicant: "I dig Blade Runner. Depending on my mood, its easily one of my favorite movies. Sure, it's clunky in parts, and there are multiple cuts with different meanings, but this isn't a post about the arcane magic of Blade Runner. This is a post about a 13 year-old League raising an eyebrow in honor of Sean Young as a robotic noir love interest," The League, "Dames in the Media The League Once Dug: Sean Young as Rachael in Blade Runner," (1/6/08). There is not much to add to the League's nostalgic and fun post about the beautiful and crazy actress Sean Young and her role as the replicant of choice in 1982's Blade Runner. In June of 1982, when the noirish Ridley Scott science fiction picture was released, Young was, well, young. She was a 22 year old ingenue likely under the impression that her role as Racheal would lead her to some type of recognition, or perhaps, stardom of some kind. She would have been wrong.

After appearing in 1987's suspense thriller No Way Out, things went downhill. Says the Wikipedia of her exploits:

Young would start to have some problems while working on filming with James Woods in a film titled The Boost. Which would end up with James Woods filing a lawsuit against Young for claims of harassment. This would become a starting point for trouble in her career as Young would again experience a set back by getting fired from a role in 1990s Dick Tracy film.

She was set to cast as Vicki Vale in Tim Burton's Batman but she received an injury during horse riding in which she was replaced by Kim Basinger. She would attempt to pursue a role in the sequel Batman Returns as Catwoman but was unsuccessful. In that attempt she had made a home-made costume and attempted to confront director Tim Burton and actor Michael Keaton during production.

(Footnotes omitted).

Truly, Young implicates the Hot/Crazy scale as illustrated above by Barney on the sitcom, "How I Met Your Mother," in this episode from October of last year. By 1994, she would play a foil to Jim Carrey in the lowbrow comedy film, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, and at the film's end, her character was revealed to be a pre-op transsexual, a far cry from Racheal the replicant twelve years earlier. What would have become of her had she kept it together?

Willie Nelson Covers Dave Matthews? On iTunes this past week, county maverick Willie Nelson released a new tune, "Gravedigger," which is a cover of the 2003 single by Dave Matthews (in his role as solo artist, mind you, not leader of the Dave Mathews Band). Matthews' version appeared on his 2003 album, Some Devil, while a scaled down acoustic version appears on both the album and its CD single. The song is a depressing departure from Matthews' upbeat folk; the lyrics are comprised of , essentially, a series of epitaphs. Who could ask for more?

Eric Clapton's "Me & Mr. Johnson"

Hellhounds are not, it seems, on the trail of Eric Clapton. In 2004, the graffiti inspiring guitarist released Me & Mr. Johnson, a professed tribute to Robert Johnson, the mythic 1930s bluesman of the Mississippi Delta. These days, Johnson may be more myth than man; he was rumored to have bargained away his soul to the devil at a crossroads in order to play the guitar as well as he did. Unlike the searing and heart wrenching original versions by Johnson, Clapton's renditions of Johnson's tunes are safe and sterile; it's the sort of blues music that suburban fortysomethings and fiftysomethings might enjoy at the House of Blues before venturing back home in the SUV before 10:30pm. There is nothing raw or powerful about this record; there is no pain. These versions are very clinical covers of what should be sad songs. In fact, while singing, Clapton sounds so pleased to be performing the songs of his idol. How can it be the blues if you are that happy to be singing them?

Perhaps this is because of the vastly different positions that the two bluesmen occupy. Johnson was a poor nomad who never saw ultracommercial success in life and who was dead at 27. Clapton, of course, is now in his sixties and has lived in celebrity luxury for four decades. Never mind the different sorts of challenges faced by an African American musician in the 1930s as opposed to a white British musician in the 1960s to the present. The two musicians could not be more different, and obviously, any attempt Clapton makes to emulate or pay homage to Johnson would pale in comparison to the original versions. Certainly, Clapton has faced tragedy and trauma in his life, and this has been reflected in his music in the past. However, in attempting Johnson's oeuvre, Clapton simply cannot compete or even emulate him.

To boot, Clapton's versions don't even fare well against tributes performed by other recording artists. Clapton's version of "Love in Vain" seems rather inferior to that of the Rolling Stones, which appeared on their Let It Bleed back in the late 1960s. (A live version appeared on the Stones' 1970 concert album, "'Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!' The Rolling Stones in Concert."). With "Me and the Devil Blues," Clapton takes no risks with his straightforward and uninspiring cover, unlike the far more interesting and phantasmagorical version of that song by the Cowboy Junkies which appeared on the soundtrack to the 1990 film Pump Up The Volume. Even his rendition of "Traveling Riverside Blues" seems drained of the raunchy power and emotion of that recorded by Led Zeppelin back in the day. Strangely, Clapton chooses not to record "Crossroads Blues," Johnson's most famous song. (This is perhaps so because Clapton previously covered the song in the 1960s when he was with the group Cream.).

In sum, avoid this tribute album. You've probably already forgotten it ever existed.

The Death of Humphrey Bogart

Next week marks the fifty-first anniversary of the death of actor Humphrey Bogart.

Do you think that he ever suspected that he would share a place in Gottfried Helnwein's Boulevard of Broken Dreams painting with James Dean (who died two years before Bogart), Marilyn Monroe (who would die five years later) and Elvis Presley (who would live another two decades)? Or, do you think if he lived longer, he would have aged poorly and begun to release really crappy movies, not unlike Harrison Ford (who, at 64, is now older that Bogart ever was and who played Bogart's role in the dreadful Sabrina remake)? Food for thought.

It's odd, though, that five decades after his death, his wife of 12 years, Lauren Bacall, is still forever associated with him. Bacall and Bogart were married from 1945 to Bogart's death in 1957. (They met on the set of 1944's To Have and Have Not, when Bacall was but 19). When Bogart died at age 57, Bacall was only 32 years old. Since his death, she has lived as many years as she had lived when Bogart passed away plus an additional 18, or just over four periods equal to the length of her marriage to him. What must it be like to have to remember so far back to recall the most significant romantic relationship of your life? Does she believe that this is still the most significant love of her life, or is it just marketing by the studios after all of these years? (An aside: She was married to Jason Robards in the 1960s, but nobody talks about Bacall and the late Robards, a fine actor in his own right.).

Humphrey Bogart (December 25, 1899 - January 14, 1957)

Requiescat in pace.

Immediately below, I offer one of the final scenes from Casablanca, a film which some may consider overrated but which really, truly is a masterwork of this collaborative art we call film. There's also this scene from The Caine Mutiny, less a favorite than the other, but certainly interesting, especially when contrasted with Bogart's iconic role in Casablanca.

Philip Seymour Hoffman on Law & Order (February 5, 1991)

"Is he saying we did it? That's a load!" - Steven Hanauer (Philip Seymour Hoffman), reacting to a police officer's assertion that his drug dealer boss has implicated him in a rape, in "The Violence of Summer,"the fourteenth episode of the first season of NBC's "Law & Order," which originally aired on February 5, 1991).

A decade and a half before he would win an Oscar for playing Truman Capote, a 23 year old Philip Seymour Hoffman earned his first television credit - indeed, his first credit of any kind, according to the Internet Movie Database, playing a low level drug dealer on "Law & Order."

The episode begins with Hanauer, Hoffman's character, on trial for the gang rape of celebrity journalist Monica Devries (played by Megan Gallagher, who would later play Catherine Black on "Millenium" and Jillian Wallace on "24"). Hanauer's co-defendant is the equally unsavory Howard Metzler (played by Gil Bellows, who would go on to play Billy Allen Thomas, the love interest of Calista Flockhart's title character on "Ally McBeal").

Hanauer and Metzler receive good news when they learn that the charges pending against them are to be dismissed due to a lack of evidence. There is no physical evidence which link them to the crime, and the memory of the traumatized rape victim is shaky under the circumstances. By taking her to a hypnotherapist, the authorities learn that Hanauer, Metzler, and third offender who is now cooperating with police were not the only offenders. Indeed, the ring leader, Tim Pruiting (Al Shannon), had eluded capture, and even identification. Ultimately, the two detectives, Mike Logan (Chris Noth) and Max Greevey (George Dzundza) pit the perpetrators against each other and trick Hanauer and Metzler into implicating themselves as participants in the rape. Once the new inculpatory evidence comes to light, their lawyer, Louis Taggert (played by Samuel L. Jackson) accepts his clients' fate. The episode closes by noting their conviction and ultimate incarceration.

The episode offers a strange bit of trivia. Philip Seymour Hoffman is actually credited in the episode as Philip Hoffman, while the hypnotherapist, played by a different actor with the same name, is credited as Phil Hoffman (but as Philip Hoffman in IMDB).

The Week That Was (12/31 - 1/08)

With the coming of Michael Gondry's Be Kind Rewind, a new film in which characters portrayed by Jack Black and Mos Def make home versions of popular cinematic blockbusters, YouTubers have taken up the challenge and begun to create their own similar short epics based on popular films. The task of remaking a popular Hollywood film as a five to ten minute home movie is, apparently, called Sweding (or so Black and Def's characters call it, and the name has caught on). Above, you'll find the brand new Lord of the Rings: Sweded!, Parts 1 and 2, released this week by Silent City Productions in Los Angeles, California. They've put quite a bit of effort into their Sweding of the Peter Jackson trilogy (based on the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien). Directed by Daniel Loyd, Written by Michael Leffler and Michael W. Shaw, produced by Loyd, Leffler, and Brad Jones, the film stars Shannon Hall, Shaw, Leffler, Guy Branum, Carl DeGrazio, Derek Bledsone, and Jones, all taking multiple roles from the trilogy.

The Iowa Caucuses (Comic Book Edition)

Whether it's Hillary Clinton or Mike Huckabee, Barack Obama or Mitt Romney, or John Edwards or John McCain, you can be certain of one thing: Steve Rogers, depicted above in his Captain America garb, and Lex Luthor, depicted below, will not prevail in today's Iowa caucuses. Both of these fictive figures, from Marvel and DC Comics, respectively, ran for president. Cap lost in 1980 and Luthor won in 2000 (if you can believe that). How they fared in the Iowa caucuses, however, was not explored in significant detail, if at all.

Marvel Comics did pause once in 1981, in its alternate history book What If?, to reflect upon the world that would have been had Captain American been elected to the presidency:

Contraband was not, apparently, the Travelin' Wilburys (1991)

Surely, Contraband, a sort of hard rock super group from the early 1990s, worked best as an idea on paper. Comprised of Richard Black from Shark Island on lead vocals, Michael Schenker of the Scorpions and UFO on guitars, Tracii Guns from L.A. Guns and the Guns N' Roses early days on guitars, Share Pederson of Vixen on bass, and Bobby Blotzer from Ratt on drums, the band's members came from groups that were hardly first tier (save perhaps the Scorpions).

But put them together, and would they be greater than the sum of their parts?

Somewhat.

But the band would not endure. Really, it was the sort of generic and bland hard rock which was marketable at the dawn of the 1990s prior to the rise of grunge. 1991's self titled Contraband was the group's first and only album. If you remember the band at all, you might recall their cover of Mott the Hoople's "All the Way from Memphis" (which opened the album) or their version of David Bowie's "Hang On To Yourself" (which closed the album). Album track "Loud Guitars, Fast Cars and Wild, Wild Livin'" also appeared on the film and on the official soundtrack to the 1991 Richard Grieco film, If Looks Could Kill. But that was it for Contraband, the band and the album.

The music press was not kind. In fact, critics couldn't resist comparing (or contrasting) the group with the far more experienced and talented Travelin' Wilburys,which included members such as Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and George Harrison. Nevertheless, one critic in the summer of 1991 called Contraband "a sort of metallic Traveling Wilburys."¹ Wrote another: "Put together a squad of journeymen who've pounded metal for some of the genre's hardest-banging names - L.A. Guns, Ratt and Vixen - and you can bet you won't get the Travelin' Wilburys."² The Miami Herald dismissed the record as an "ill-conceived trip to the heavy-metal hinterlands,"³ while the New Jersey Record noted that "[t]he play of these seasoned professionals is so neat and restrained, a listener comes away feeling that no one wanted to stretch for fear of eliciting showboating charges."⁴ Earl Swift in the aforementioned Miami Herald piece offered this praise, which may be faint:

All the cuts are listenable: The guitar work is tight, the drumming is chest-thumping, the melodies exist. The lyrics aren't Proust, but when compared to most on metal, Contraband's come off as a think tank report. The vocals kick butt.⁵

Swift would be the only music critic to invoke Proust in his review.

The entire experience seems to have left a bad taste in the mouth of lead singer Richard Black In a 2006 interview with MelodicRock, Black relayed his displeasure:

Contraband? What a mistake!

I should have never agreed to that. Let me clear something up about Contraband. First of all it was a farce. In fact the members of Contraband have never to this day played together all at once.

Surprised aren't you? It's true. Never!

It was nothing more than fabricated rouse by a self-absorbed manager. The only time we were actually together was during photo shoots and video filming. The album was recorded individually. And there was never a reason to play.
Looking back it was doomed from the start, but I fell for it. I was told and somehow convinced that having opposing bands record and promote an album would somehow help my band's efforts. What a pile of crap! The day I agreed to it (with my band's support) was essentially the end of Shark Island.

I was told that well just record the album and that's that. I figured harmless.

Next we were told we needed to do a promo tour, because it wasn't moving fast enough.

Against our better judgment Share Pederson, and I did the press junket through Europe and Asia, while others stayed home with their bands.

Upon our return we learned that a tour was required, to push it along.

Keep in mind my band is home getting songs shot down for the next record by the same manager…meanwhile Ratt, L.A. Guns, are preparing for comebacks.
Now get this; first Share is not allowed on tour for some mysterious reason and who do you think gets the opening slot for the Contraband tour? Ratt and L.A. Guns of course. By the way we mustn't forget, Juan from Ratt would take Share's place to even deepen the conflict of interest...

So check it out this new line up has never played together either! And despite my constant complaining for rehearsal, none happen until sound check of the opening day of the tour! It was pathetic, and I was expected to front this debacle.

Now think about this; the opening bands featured members of the headliner! Here the conflict unfolds… Think how easy it would be to blow the headlining band away and at the same time make your own band shine. It was not only pointless but bad sense to make Contraband sound good. I was on my own, fronting a band of monkeys that could give a shit. Contraband was so bad that I could not be certain what songs were being played. I'm serious.

This went on for several nights with daily complaints from me to the manager with no improvement. It was downright embarrassing. One night I reached critical mass and decided that not matter what happened I would put an end to this cruel joke. I remember standing there in front of about 3 thousand thinking my labors and dues are worth more that this, and the people who paid to see the show deserve much more. I walked off for the very first time in my life. It was the only thing I could do to regain some control and dignity.

Well this caused a ruckus to say the least. Not only was I completely broke down, the manager freaked out threatening I would never work in this business again - under those conditions; I never want to.

Then Traci Guns runs in swinging and tries to attack me - I think he was wishing he had walked off himself first, but I beat him to it. He had a great image conflict between L.A. Guns and Contraband. Contraband was way too wholesome for his brand of Rock and Roll.

Ouch. Below, you'll find a promotional video for the band which found its way to the YouTubes:

1. Nager, Larry. "Talkin Heads' Byrne delivers odd album," Cincinnati Post, June 1, 1991.
2. Earl Swift, "Preview: Rock/Pop," The Virginia Pilot and Ledger Star (Norfolk, VA), July 12, 1991.
3. Macklin, William. Contraband debuts with too-tame rock, Miami Herald, July 5, 1991.
4. "This News Isn't Good News," New Jersey Record, June 20, 1991.
5. Swift, supra.

[Editor's Note: This piece was corrected on October 13, 2010 to correct an attribution error in the block quote.]