I'm not going to tell you how my day went. Suffice to say I was absolutely exhausted by noon. There were two films left to see, both of which I was dying to see. SIX STRING SAMURAI and FRAT HOUSE. Both were films that I wanted to see when I was up in Park City attending SUNDANCE. FRAT HOUSE won best documentary, and I had people raving to me about how I needed to see it. In fact, the director of FRAT HOUSE, asked me to see it. I never had the time in that maelstrom that was SUNDANCE. Then SIX STRING SAMURAI was the film that people were continually whispering to me about. It was at SLAMDANCE, it was produced by the Hollywood Stock Exchange, and the poster screamed RIPOFF of Mariachi/Road Warrior. So I blew it off.
Let me say that again. I BLEW IT OFF. Here at SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST, I blew it off to go hang with some friends the first time it showed. Then the second time, I had a panel I had to give. And then I almost blew it off today. HOWEVER, something made me blow off the interviews, hide from the friends that wanted to take me away. Something MADE me see it. So it was that I sat front row center for SIX STRING SAMURAI.
There are film experiences that you mark your life with. Films so cool, so breathtaking that you simply have to say it was this day, this very second that my mind was blown. This was that rare treat. You know the one. That treat where you were first introduced to George Miller, Sam Raimi, George Romero, Robert Rodriguez, Peter Jackson.
Remember when you saw ROAD WARRIOR the first time? I did, and while sure, MAD MAX came first, I didn't see that. I saw ROAD WARRIOR, it was at a drive in and my mind was left on the loose gravel amongst spent condoms and broken beer glass.
Or when I first saw EVIL DEAD 2. I witnessed this film for the first time on video, in the sanctity of my own living room. That was a film that burst out of my television screen, attached strings to my body and moved me around like the marionette it wanted me to be.
I was three when I first remember seeing NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. I was at a convention in Detroit, if memory serves. I was laying on the ground, in the little film room. Part of my body beneath the screen staring straight up at the screen from a Calagarian angle. The film numbed me. And I have been in love ever since.
Robert Rodriguez grabbed me in an Austin Community Television broadcast center. A friend told me they were world premiering a movie on ACTV, I knew it would suck, that it would blow chunks, and we would all wear pseudo-smiles and glad-hand whatever creator there was. The film turned out to be EL MARIACHI, it blew alright. Blew my mind.
And then Peter Jackson attacked me at a friend of mine's house. He had picked up a laserdisc of a flick, "I just had to see!" Glen told me it was crap, but I went anyway. I went over and witnessed the awesome film known as DEAD ALIVE. I wanted to 'kickass for the lord' I wanted to upend a lawnmower and go to town on some zombie shits.
That is how I was introduced to them fellas, and here is how I was introduced to Lance Mungia...
It was at the ALAMO DRAFT HOUSE, which up until now was merely a great place to see films, not a legendary bringer of cinematic nirvana. It takes a film that transcends the screen, a film to be introduced directly into your pop-lexicon, to make it legendary. I was front and center, next to my father, waiting for the film to start.
Behind me were Quint, Tom Joad and Johnny Wad. The theatre was semi-filled with disenchanted film-goers. Film fans that were beginning to wane, from day in and day out films. Most every film being 'ok' to 'pretty good', but no great film. No film that would make you climb mountains to scream from, to take over television stations to broadcast about. Japanese Television was in the theater filming me. I just wanted them to go away. I wanted to just sleep.
The room went dark and the semi-rocking SXSW logo comes out. Then the tiresome Sundance Channel stark white interview section comes on to jeers from the audience. Then came SIX-STRING SAMURAI.
If I explain the plot, you'll think it is stupid. Believe me it isn't. It won cinematography and editing at SLAMDANCE, that doesn't even go far enough. The film is an orgy of film loving imagery. It is influenced from LONE WOLF, ROAD WARRIOR, WIZARD OF OZ, PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE, GREASE, EL MARIACHI, DESPERADO, CHINESE GHOST STORY, JACKIE CHAN, JOHN FORD, EVIL DEAD and just about any other cool movie you can think of.
'oh it's derivative'
Fuck you, it is not. This is a celebration of film making. That pure joy you got when Dad gave you the keys to the car and you went on your first solo car trip. You put on the best music you had, rolled the windows down, floored it and felt the world float beneath your ass. Lance Mungia simply let loose the very fabric of film. The adrenaline rush is amazing. My eyes began tearing up. Tears of elation, tears of joy. I was discovering a new film maker.
'Harry, come on, why did it grab you, how were the characters, what got you in this state?'
Well, there is a new film god on the street. Remember when you first saw Mel Gibson in Road Warrior, or Bruce Campbell in Evil Dead 2? Well, this film has someone as cool or... dare I say it... cooler. Jeffrey Falcon. JEFFREY FALCON plays a character of such an awesome degree of coolness that you will be repeating his lines, imitating his dress, and naming your first born child after his character. BUDDY. BUDDY is now my hero of choice. Not nearly as hammy as Ash, nor as stoically quiet as Max. He moves like Spiderman, Bruce Lee, Daredevil, Lone Wolf. He is a pop-god in the waiting. The single coolest being I've seen in cinema in quite some time. He combines the zen-ness of Peter Fonda's Captain America, the moves of Jackie Chan's Drunken Master and well.. shit... he's so fucking cool.
In fact that is what I come away with... FUCKING COOL!!! About halfway through the movie I was shaking, gleefully giggling, tear-soaked cheeks, pumping my arm in the air, and letting loose with drool. This was the film I've been looking for. It is what my site looks for, the next filmic nirvana.
When it was over, I was glued to my seat, staring at the blank screen. I was staring in disbelief. It couldn't be over, It had to continue. It couldn't end. The film must go on. Play it again. No, play it again and again and again and again. I must see this film a thousand times in the next 48 hours. I don't want to leave. Then the cold bitter reality began sinking in. This was it, this was the last time I would be seeing it for quite some time. Tom Joad, Johnny Wad, Quint, Dad and I all got up. We all began doing that quiet mental exchange of joy jism. We had an experience that we would share for all time. One of those, "remember the first time we saw..." sorta things. We went into the lobby, where a convention of slack-jawed breathless film fans wept. Quint had to go to the bathroom lest he soil himself. Robogeek appears in his dapper coat and tie, with this look of disbelief. A look of utter satisfaction. You see... we. All of we. Had just fallen.
So it was decided that we would go eat and contemplate the numbing our brains had. That pure, "I just had sex with Marilyn Monroe," feeling. So we went to Spaghetti Warehouse, the only restaurant in sight. They had one of those paper table covers that you could draw on with crayola. So I drew BUDDY with his samurai sword and six-string guitar. We had an hour and a half till FRAT HOUSE. The conversation flew fast and furious. We had words, lines, scenes, moments, thought hurling as fast as our lips could move. We talked of getting guns and forcing the ALAMO to show it again. We talked of moments of perfect film experiences, of only seeing it once. Dad had seen it twice. We talked of nuances that he caught, or the other he caught or that I caught.
Tom Joad talked of driving down from Oklahoma, or spending the cold Austin nights in his car, huddled beneath blankets on the seventh floor of a parking garage. He talked of how this film, was worth the $345, the cold, the lack of showers, the long walks, the cutting wind, the days without his wife. This is the movie we look for. That movie which we can talk of with fire and passion, matched only by that of the people who created it.
GOD, I want a copy of this film. I want to show it to everyone, I want to see it again and again and again. And I can't. All I have is this flyer. This one little flyer. God, this flyer is precious. It marks the moment, the day, the second it started, the memory of it all. I find myself guarding the memories of this film, I know that I want them kept strong, because it is a LONG DAMN TIME before I see it again. Man, I want a video of this film. I want one so damn bad. This is one of THOSE movies. What a film experience. What a movie!
If I were a studio, I would buy this film, I would sign the filmmakers to an extended film contract. These guys need to make movies. We need their energy on the screen. I wish this film was in your life. I wish I could sit behind you and watch you watch it for the first time. I wish I could watch it again. This is one of the ones I've been waiting for. Let's hope there will be more.
'Fly away little butterfly.. just fly away'
"Who are you?"
'Death'
"Cool"
"If you were me, you'd be good looking"
PLEASE SOMEONE SEND ME THIS MOVIE!!! I NEED IT!!! I WANT IT SOOOO MUCH!!!! PLEASE! PLEASE!!! PLEEEAAASSSEEE!!!!!!
