Where Have All The Hobbits Gone?

Funny how a year changes things. This time in 2004, I was looking forward to Van Helsing and Alien vs. Predator – laugh? Why I oughta… – while the odds of Shrek 2 making it into my top ten for the year seemed slim at best. Okay, it still didn’t quite get there, but it came a damn sight closer than expected. And we’re still waiting for Constantine (now a February 2005 release) and Ultraviolet, which is vaguely scheduled for August.

But enough about films that didn’t come out. I saw seven of the top ten grossing films, the exceptions being The Bourne Supremacy, Shark Tale and Troy. The middle-named wins the 2004 TC “why is anyone going to watch this?” award, replacing last year’s champion, Bruce Almighty. Again, the usual mix of sequels and adaptations (or both, in the case of Bourne) ruled, with The Incredibles beating Shark Tale in the Most Successful Original Story category. Is animation the last refuge of imagination these days? [Best animated film of 2005: Howl’s Moving Castle (right – click on the pic to see all the luscious detail). Hey, it’s Miyazaki, so I’m not exactly going out on a limb]

It’s kinda odd to find Christmas rolling around, without a Lord of the Rings movie to see, though sure many of you will find the extended version of Return of the King in your stocking come Christmas morning. [The bad news is, of the 50 extra minutes, 48 of them are additional footage of hobbits hugging each other goodbye…] One thing this will do, is make the Academy Awards a lot less interesting. After last year’s Middle Earth domination, we’ll be back to the usual worthy-but-dull dramas, with the odds strongly against any of our favourites even getting a nod, never mind a statuette. We’ll just have to wait for the mainstream breakthrough of the next former splatter-movie director. Alex Chandon, now is your hour…

Here’s our top ten choices for 2004 – but, first, a few honorary mentions for others we enjoyed over the past year, in no particular order: The Cooler, The Great American Snuff Movie, Touching The Void, Mean Girls, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed. Shrek 2, The Hazing, and Resident Evil: Apocalypse.

#10 – House of Flying Daggers [review on gwg.org]. Okay, it’s not quite Crouching Tiger, though it desperately wants to be, but it still had the best action sequences of the year, and some of the best cinematography as well. Fluid moviemaking, the art of which seems lost to Hollywood.

#9 – Kill Bill, Volume 2 [review on gwg.org]. Not quite as good as part one, it looked like Tarantino didn’t quite keep his self-indulgence in check. But when it worked – and, for the most part, it did – it really worked. Uma Thurman’s revenge mission continued, with more style, grace, violence and irritatingly-hip dialogue than you could ever want.

#8 – The Chronicles of Riddick. A tremendously guilty pleasure, taking me back to the days when I’d haunt the SF section of my local library, devouring even the pulpiest trash with abandon. Ludicrous, overblown, nonsensical. But enjoyable as hell, with Vin Diesel proving why he’s the ultimate bad-ass, even though his acting ability is questionable, at best.

#7 – Up For Grabs. It was a good year for documentaries, though you won’t find Moore’s polemic rant listed here (post-election, it seems an irrelevance). Instead, here’s a film about a baseball, and the struggle for possession of it. And yet, it’s a metaphor for all human exis…oh, who am I trying to kid. But in the light of the increasing damning evidence for Bonds’ steroid use, this gets even funnier.

#6 – The Incredibles. Another year, another Pixar production. Another top 10 spot. But this spot is actually a drop, after two consecutive #2’s. Still funny, still intelligent, even more action-packed than its predecessors, it did feel a little lacking in heart – but only in comparison to their other masterpieces. By any other standard, this was an instant classic.

#5 – Aileen: The Life and Death of a Serial Killer. Nick Broomfield is the best documentarian currently working, – Michael Moore isn’t fit to load his camera. This creepy follow up to his early film about serial killer Aileen Wuornos finishes the story by covering the days up to her execution with an unflinching, neutral eye. Both those pro- and anti- the death penalty will find much food for thought here.

#4 – Noon Blue Apples. Ah, conspiracies. Yet while The Da Vinci Code film gets all the press, it’ll be hard pushed to capture the paranoid anxiety of those who delve into the world of secret and forbidden knowledge. That’s something Noon does almost perfectly, and your head will be spinning like a top by the time you get out. If you do…

#3 – Aan: Men at Work. Certainly the biggest surprise of the year, who’d have thought our first-ever excursion into Bollywood would make this list? We certainly didn’t, and were delighted to find a fabulous mix of influences, hot bullet-squibbing, martial arts action and – of course – song and dance numbers. If Korea is the new Hong Kong, cinematically, India is the new Korea…

#2 – Bloody Mallory. Lions’ Gate have been sitting on this one for at least two years, but I’m damned if I’m going to let it be ignored any longer. Sure, it’s not technically a 2004 release, but it should have been, so I’m including it here (hey, it’s my top 10!). Go to Ebay right now, and get one of the unofficial copies. For energetic, imaginative, visually striking horror-action, this is the best film since Blade II at the very least.

#1 – Shaun of the Dead. The first British film to win the coveted #1 spot, Shaun not only lived up to all expectations, it surpassed them. You’d have to go back a very long way (Evil Dead 2? Re-Animator? Brain Dead?) to find a horror/comedy that worked so well on both sides of the slash. Repeat viewing makes it even better: seen it three times already, and that’s before getting the DVD. Now, can I get any of you cunts a drink?

Vague plan for 2005, is perhaps to get round to updating the Trash City Top 50 Films. It’s been five years since the last time this was done, so it’s well past due. Though since this task will likely need to involve re-viewing all the current candidates, plus any new contenders, it’s obviously going to be a lengthy, if unquestionably pleasurable, operation. Of course, normal viewing of new movies will also continue!

Tucson, 24th July 2004. In the vacant lot behind a bar in downtown Tucson, a makeshift ring is set up. The heat lingers, even though the sun has gone down – illumination is supplied by three cars, parked with their headlights shining into the arena. Lightning crackles on the horizon. Chaos is fighting for the HIW World Heavyweight title, against reigning champion Ricky Flash. Both men are bleeding. Chaos has $50 on his forehead; it was staple-gunned there by Flash earlier in the bout. Chaos slams the title holder down outside the ring, on a board covered with barbed-wire. He picks up a bunch of fluorescent light tubes located conveniently nearby, and does a leg-drop on his opponent, simultaneously spearing him in the chest with the tubes.

They shatter into a thousand pieces; even though I’m standing 15-20 feet back, behind a barrier, a splinter of shrapnel pings off my forearm. Welcome to HIW.

High Impact Wrestling began over ten years ago, when teenage friends Ryan Van Horn and Jon Johnson started their own federation: they built a ring in Ryan’s yard, and performed for the benefit of their schoolmates. However, things took a decidedly hardcore turn when they saw a tape of the 1995 IWA King of the Deathmatch Japanese wrestling tournament, won by Mick Foley, who defeated Terry Funk in a “No-Rope Explosive Barbed Wire Board Timebomb Deathmatch”. Things, it’s safe to say, would never be the same again for the two schoolfriends. Ryan – or ‘Chaos’, as he’s called inside the ring – has survived the decade since relatively unscathed, even if about the only bout he ever refused was on the edge of a cliff. “I got injured worse playing baseball, than I ever have in the ring,” he says. And it’s true, that perhaps his most impressive scar comes from an operation to repair his shoulder, damaged diving back into base, that ended his chances of playing professionally.

Despite being perhaps the best known “backyard” federation, having been featured on the likes of 20/20, as well as Paul Hough’s documentary, The Backyard, HIW are cutting their ties to that scene. They’ve discarded the backyard label, now calling themselves “independent”, and the increased involvement of ‘Soju’ has helped move them in a different direction. He was originally their sound guy, but when cash input was required, he stepped up, and now keeps things running, leaving Ryan and the other wrestlers free to work on what happens inside the ring. Sessions have become more organised and focused; says HIW chairman, Adam Lujan, “The biggest myth is that we’re not trained, but all of us practice at least once a week.” Ryan spent six months learning under Ron ‘Section 8’ Sutherland, and now passes this on, though certain observers outside HIW question Sutherland’s qualifications for the job. However, neutral and casual observers would be hard-pushed to tell, and Ryan and Jon undeniably have more hours of in-ring experience than most.

In the end, HIW has a fundamental difference in approach and philosophy to other Arizona federations which seems almost irreconcilable. This is partly why some view it with a disdain that borders on loathing, even though it’s easily the longest-running organization in the state. The other active group is Impact Zone Wrestling, and the two groups have an intense distrust of each other. Said one HIW member of IZW, “Their shit is so boring, I can’t even watch it – they do the same moves over and over and over again.” Conversely, one IZW member yearned for the “good old days” when they would simply have driven down to Tucson and physically stopped HIW from putting on shows.

It’s enlightening, in that it shows that pro wrestling is not a single unified sport with a common code, but covers a range of styles and approaches. Rather than aspiring to the WWE, HIW have more in common with ECW, a federation run out of Philadelphia from 1992-2001, who are still fondly remembered for their anything-goes attitude. HIW also care less about the psychology of wrestling – yes, it has psychology. Former Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura tells of a bout where he didn’t touch his opponent for the first ten minutes, but had the crowd out of their seats three times. In HIW, this is impossible to imagine, and would probably bore their crowd to tears: only “refined Southern gentleman” Doc Fairday seems capable of getting an audience reaction with mere words. Ryan disdains the more showy side of wrestling, and has no apparent interest in working for the WWE – rather than play to the crowd, he prefers to get in the ring and let his actions do the talking.

What is clear, is that those involved with HIW do know there’s more to pro wrestling than getting hit with barbed wire bats or tubes. Ask Ryan his advice for anyone interested in joining him, and his response is straightforward: “Get pro training or don’t wrestle at all. I made that mistake, and I still get shit for it.” Most other HIW members say something similar: “Go to a school and get professionally trained,” according to Louie DeFreitas. Injuries are an inevitable part of the hardcore action, but like Ryan, many say they’ve been hurt worse in organized sport: no matter how hardcore, there’s not the deliberate intent to injure often seen, for example, on the gridiron. And as in all wrestling, acts that often look almost-murderous, are designed for show, rather than to cause damage.

Still, it’s often highly-convincing, making it almost surreal to see one wrestler attack another with a weed-whacker, knowing that after the show, they’ll chill out and eat burgers together. It’s also fair to say that the media has blown the dangers out of proportion: I’ve been unable to find a single verified incident where any participant in a “backyard” federation has died – and that’s more than can be said for most sports. For example, around 75 people in North America die every year while scuba-diving, and calls for it to be ‘banned’ are uncommon. And while there are no available figures for wrestling, again, we need to note that each year, around 3.5 to 4 million Americans suffer sports injuries serious enough to get them an emergency room visit.

When it comes to those, few people are more experienced than Matt Haugen, a.k.a. Scar, HIW’s “King of Hurt”. Matt’s spent his first seven weeks in intensive care, and his early years were one long series of operations and recuperation. As a result, he has no spleen, leaving him with a limited immune system, is partially-deaf, and broke his back when a move went wrong during another (non-HIW) wrestling show. While he was recuperating, we got to know him, and his love for the sport remains undiminished by his injury. It was he who invited us down to Tucson for our first HIW event in July, headlined by the Ricky Flash/Chaos bout described above. “You gotta see it,” he insisted – and he was right. An HIW show is an intense spectacle unlike anything else we’ve experienced – if wrestling was staged in the third circle of hell, it’d probably look like this. It’s easy to see why HIW provokes such extreme reactions; those who dislike it, tend to loathe it, but its supporters love the federation with passion and intensity.

Take Scar. Even though his back injury kept him out of the ring, and despite having left hospital only a couple of days before – he was still wearing the wristband – he still let another HIW veteran, Puck, hit him across the face with a glass picture frame before the first bout. “Breakaway glass,” we thought. Nope, as with all the bouts, this was the 100% genuine article: Scar wore his BandAid the rest of the day like a badge of honour. Yet before the event, when we were asking Scar who we should talk to, Puck was one of the first names he mentioned. The same Puck who’d smash glass over Scar’s head, kick him to the ground and leave him bleeding. Like so much about HIW, it’s an oddly-appealing contradiction.

The big question is, of course, why? And everyone seems to have their own reason: “Self-esteem, self-discipline and a chance to be known for doing what I love,” says Corey Curran. “It’s the most physical sport you can play,” is the view of Keith Cosewehr, “No rules. No penalties.” There’s a similar range of opinions with regard to the future, and whether they aim to make wrestling a career. Ryan does – his eventual goal is to wrestle in Japan – but for others, it’s a hobby: Lujan intends to go to college and “maybe become a teacher or a writer”. Rory Adams is keeping his options open: “I’m going to college right now – hopefully I can keep wrestling, but I’d be okay with being a psychologist.”

If friendships are often forged, families and those outside of HIW can be rather less understanding – if they know about it, because some participants prefer to be discreet. Lujan used to try and hide his barb-wire slices: “Now that I’m 18, they can’t really ground me, but my parents still hate it.” “Oh, my God!” says Gil Gilbert, describing his family’s reaction, “but they could tell that I wanted to do this.” A certain pragmatism tends to set in eventually for most parents (and is probably wise; with two teenage kids, we’ve learned that freaking out is rarely productive).

HIW aims to move forward, says Soju; every show brings new lessons learned. The August event started later, avoiding the worst heat of the day, and this time, lighting was on hand once the sun went down. The first step is to get a new ring – a considerable expense, running into thousands of dollars. But it’s probably a wise move, given the current one is eight years old and showing its age, with the ropes loose and the footing uncertain. A building is another goal; eventually, HIW wants to put on shows in cities other than Tucson. Soju also struggles to keep Chaos in check – HIW’s deathmatch champion wants his next bout to be barefoot on broken glass, something Soju has qualms about. He’s probably wise, given the currently primitive nature of HIW’s first-aid kit – something better than paper towels should be high on the equipment list.

The road on for HIW promises to be interesting. Already, the numbers attending their monthly shows in Tucson are credible by Arizona standards, and for almost all those involved, the best is likely yet to come (Ryan, for example, is only 21). But it’s a struggle to find appropriate venues, and breaking out may be a challenge. The spectators at HIW respond almost solely to the bloodier elements, anything else tends to be met with an eerie silence. There is a limit to how far you can go in this direction; to achieve a broader success, HIW may need to attract a different crowd, or educate the existing one to enjoy and appreciate other aspects, beyond the hardcore approach at which they are undeniably skilled.

Plaza Hotel, Las Vegas,
April 15th-17th, 2004

Where do old wrestlers go? Not a question that’s exactly been on your lips, I imagine, and perhaps that’s no surprise. Whether you feel wrestling is sport or entertainment (my position would be that it is a sublime and unique mix of the two), it’s an industry that has never given its veterans the respect they deserve. The Cauliflower Alley Club, established in 1965, is trying to rectify that, as part of its mission to celebrate and recognise fellowship within the wrestling world.

When CC Starr, commissioner of the IZW federation here in Phoenix, told us they were having a reunion in Las Vegas, we were intrigued enough to sign up and make the six-hour drive from Arizona. [It’d have been less, but the construction work and security checks at the Hoover Dam made for much idling in traffic] Besides, it was a perfect excuse to hit Las Vegas for my thirty-fnghrrmmmth birthday. 🙂

We were a little apprehensive; while both Chris and I are wrestling fans, we are some way short of being all-knowing on the topic. I grew up in Britain, and while familiar with names like Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks [pause for all UK readers of a certain age to sigh nostalgically!], the only American wrestling we got to see was occasional WWF bouts. Thus, beyond the household names like Andre the Giant, I’d be the first to admit my experience was limited, and we were thus concerned about looking like the total greenhorns we actually were.

We needn’t have worried, largely because a more friendly, warm-hearted bunch of people you couldn’t hope to find. Which is kinda ironic, given their “day jobs” in most cases involved beating the living daylights out of each other. But now, they seemed genuinely delighted by our interest, signing autographs, taking photos and talking to us in an incredibly gracious manner which soon put us at ease – and from which a lot of ‘famous’ people could learn.

A couple stood out in particular, both women wrestlers. Ida Mae Martinez, won the Mexican Women’s Championship in 1952, and is now a yodelling star(!), as well as featuring in an upcoming documentary with the intriguing title, Lipstick & Dynamite, Piss & Vinegar: The First Ladies of Wrestling. Equally as fascinating to talk to, was Ann Casey, who wrestled into her fifties, then became a truck driver. With a life that also includes meeting Elvis, a degree in criminal justice, bounty hunting, poetry and getting shot five times in 1972 while sitting in her car, Hollywood really should do a bio-pic of her – Madeleine Stowe would be Ann’s personal choice to play her role.

Speaking of films, we actually recognised some attendees, less from the ring and more their work in movies. There was George ‘The Animal’ Steele, for example, who played Tor Johnson in Tim Burton’s Ed Wood. Ox Baker, who famously beat up on Kurt Russell during Escape From New York, whose extrovert personality was still capable of filling an entire room [and going by his loud rendition of Happy Birthday, shares mine!] And we’d only just missed Hard Boiled Haggerty, from Micki and Maude, a stalwart of the CAC, who’d died less than three months before.

This was, sadly, another feature of the event: at Saturday’s night banquet, they named the wrestlers who had died in the past year. It was a lengthy list, led by Stu Hart, patriarch of the Hart dynasty which included his sons Bret and Owen. Hard Boiled Haggerty’s daughter also sang God Bless America, her voice cracking with emotion, and even I – who doesn’t believe in God and isn’t American – had to admit it was a moving moment.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom at the banquet, with the guest of honor Japanese superstar Antonio Inoki, best known for his bout against Muhammad Ali in 1976. What stood out for us, however, was co-host Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan, one of the most famous managers in wrestling history. The Academy need to hire this guy for the Oscars, and forget Billy or Whoopi. He kept the event moving along with unfailing good humour, even when some of the recipients let their acceptance speeches get away from them. However, even he wasn’t fast enough to stop one recipient from referring to Vince McMahon Jr, the owner of WWE, as a “cunt”. Oops – next year’s ceremony will be on a 7-second delay.

Though it has to be said, crowd disapproval seemed limited to the inappropriate word, rather than any actual argument with the sentiment. The general feeling appeared to be that the antics of the WWE overshadowed the good work being done by independent promoters, that wrestling was going through one of its downturns, and that things were better in the good old days. However, I noticed a prominent phrase on one of the old promo cards which was part of the silent auction, and probably dated from the 50’s: “Huge reserved section for coloreds”. Not everything about the old days was good…

Another notable exhibit was a cast made of Andre the Giant’s arm and foot (right – the hand rattling around inside, feeling very lonely, is Chris’s for comparison). I’d seen footage of the 7’4″, 520 lb man in action, but apart from The Princess Bride, only with other wrestlers, and didn’t realise how big he truly was. Also ongoing was a Cribbage tournament, which may seem like an odd inclusion at the event, but CC told us that it was a favourite pastime of wrestlers backstage, while waiting to go on. Maurice ‘Mad Dog’ Vachon was defending his title – much like baseball players, it seems that wrestlers had much cooler nicknames in the golden days. Though, having said that, I guess there’s still the odd one around who’s old-school in this regard, such as Chris ‘The Rabid Wolverine’ Benoit!

All this, and I haven’t even mentioned the show on Saturday, where up-and-coming wrestlers got to do their thing for promoters, bookers and everyone else – difficult to think of a tougher crowd to perform in front of than this one! No folding chairs; no pyrotechnics; no lingerie matches; just traditional wrestling. One yearns for the days when this again becomes the normal perception of the sport, rather than a sputtering flame, barely kept alive by a bunch of die-hards.

We left on Sunday with a whole new appreciation for the wrestling industry, and those who are part of it, using their skill to put their health on the line for our entertainment, day-in and day-out for years on end. In most cases, they don’t do it for glory or riches, but because they love the sport, and a comment from one of the speeches on Saturday really brings this home. Someone once asked a wrestler what he’d do if he had a million dollars; he replied, “Put it in the bank, and wrestle until it’s all gone.” The knowing laughter which greeted this anecdote was proof of truth, and is why we’ll be back in Las Vegas for the 2005 reunion. We’re already brushing up on our cribbage skills.

[Visit the Cauliflower Alley Club website.]

Harkins Cine Capri, April 1st-4th, 2004

As predicted last year, the fourth Phoenix Film Festival found a new home in 2004 – the good news is, the venue was now only 15 minutes from TC Towers. The bad news…well, regular readers will know why the Harkins Cine Capri is not our favourite cinema. Add to this that organizers were now in bed with the Evil Empire of Ticketmaster when it came to selling festival passes – meaning patrons were the ones getting screwed – and the omens weren’t good.

From our standpoint, the timing could have been better. We had foreign friends visiting, and Friday night was spent with them at a baseball game. Then Chris came down with what felt like a 24-hour version of SARS, taking her out on Saturday afternoon and evening. This is why we only got to see four films over the festival, even though it was now extended by an extra day. Hence, we can’t fairly give out the TC Awards, as we’ve done for the past three years; we apologise, and promise to do better next year.

Looking through the program was also a bit disappointing. The opening night – described as the “largest independent film premiere in Arizona history” – starred those icons of indie cinema… Macauley Culkin and Mandy Moore. The closing night starred Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore. Half the others felt like an episode of Where Are They Now?, including Jennifer Beals, Kevin Sorbo and Brian Austin Green, while global cinema was represented by precisely one non-English language feature.

As for genre entries, the closest was i died, a real-time movie filmed from a ghost’s point of view. This was initially on our watch-list, but the reports from the first screening were unanimously dire, with a huge number of walkouts. The organizers can’t blame a lack of submissions: I know that The Great American Snuff Film was rejected despite, I strongly suspect, being superior to i died. Wussy “slice of life” dramas were, of course, present in abundance, though Phoenix is hardly alone there; what film festival ever shows horror or cult flicks any respect?

Let’s give praise where it’s due however; while we may disagree on genres, when it comes to specific movies, the selection committee showed excellent taste. The hit-rate among the films we saw was much better than last year, with only one falling a little below expectations. The others were all thoroughly enjoyable, and two will certainly be candidates for the year-end TC top ten.

The post-Superbowl Puritan backlash seemed to have hit proceedings. While useful information, such as the running time, was not listed in the program, each movie had notes on its content: language, violence (broken down into fights, gunshots and blood), sexual situations and – heaven forbid! – drinking. Let’s be honest: if you’re concerned about consumption of alcohol in movies by adults, you need to get a freakin’ life. The information was not even 100% accurate: I was pleasantly surprised by the cheerily gratuitous strip-club sequence in You Got Nothin’, about which the program said zilch. Dozens of Amish attendees were carried screaming out of the theatre, but otherwise, civilization as we know it in Arizona seems to have survived.

From an organizational point of view, there seemed to be few problems, with films starting on time and smooth entrances and exits for audiences. The tribute to Peter Fonda was, however, embarrassingly gremlin-plagued, with a number of technical issues which should have been sorted out beforehand. And whoever arranged for a loud rock band to play just outside during proceedings, should be strapped to the back of a truck and taken for a long drag. [As a side note, it might be worth stopping people from going into screenings after the film has begun; the weekend-pass system seems to encourage irritatingly late arrivals] Other celebrities in attendance included Russell Means, Michael Tolkin and John Landis – his latest film is entitled Slasher, but is actually a documentary about a car-salesman, which is kinda sad.

All criticism aside: we love the Phoenix Film Festival. It keeps getting bigger – 10,000 attendees in 2004, up from seven thousand last year – but the people involved continue to treat all of them, whether paid, press or professionals, as if it’s an honour to have them there. While the volunteers deserve particular credit for their unfailing good humour, everyone involved with the festival is great, and are probably the main reason why the city and Arizona can justly be proud of this event. Now, put us on the selection committee, and it’ll be perfect… 😉

Visit the Phoenix Film Festival website.

Official festival awards

• Best Feature Film: Break a Leg
• Best Director: Philip Angelotti Jr., You Got Nothin’
• Best Screenplay: Philip Angelotti Jr., You Got Nothin’
• Best Ensemble: Black Cloud
• Best Documentary: Up For Grabs
• Audience Ballot Award: Black Cloud

Festival reviews

• The Falls
• Noon Blue Apples
• Up For Grabs
• You Got Nothin’

The Spike and Mike Sick and Twisted Animation Festival grew out of an animation festival run by Craig ‘Spike’ Decker and Mike Gribble, which started in California in 1977.  The “twisted” side started in 1990 with a screening of the adult content animations in the Wheeler Auditorium at UC Berkeley, and grew from there to such an extent that by the start of the new millennium, the original festival was phased out entirely.  In the early days, Spike and Mike – sometimes along with their Scottie dog – would act as “ring-masters” for the show, and would also tour with the films round rep cinemas.

Many notable animators shown at these events would go on to greater fame, notably Bill Plympton and Mike Judge, as well as Trey Parker + Matt Stone. Although Mike died of cancer in 1994, Spike continued with the festival, which lives on to this day [though according to the website, the latest version “contains less monocle-spinning gross-out gags than S&T, and rather focuses on the flat-out best and funniest animated shorts that the world has to offer.”

To some extent, the purpose of the event has been removed, as the Internet now makes it a lot easier for aspiring animators to get their work out there. But below, you’ll see reviews of the four festivals we attended in Arizona, from 1998-2004.

1998

This American Ambassador is writing to inform her European and American fans of Trash City that there is life outside of the pub and strip clubs. That out there you will find what you are looking for. That there is meaning to our dull and dreary existences. And we can find this in trying to put reason or rhyme behind what I just witnessed tonight.

Anyone with a penchant for the sick and twisted, the rude and the offensive will certainly have their needs satisfied after witnessing the Animation Festival I just attended in the small dreary little college town of Tempe Arizona, home of the Arizona Diamondbacks, the Cardinals, the Rattlers and the Coyotes.. And now the dwelling for the next 10 days of Spike and Mike’s Sick and Twisted Animation Festival..

Let’s start with the announcement.. “Anyone who is offended by sick, twisted, rude and offensive material can just get the fuck out and we will be happy to give you a refund”

In the meanwhile, let’s take a peek at what we saw tonight, that might have been misconstrued as such by some — or should I say most? I have never laughed so hard in my life. 24 short cartoons were shown depicting everything from “A to Zits” including such delights as: bestiality, pedophilia, gaseous bodily functions, oral sex, religious offenses. and full penetration (shown for the first time here) along with a South Park episode on the big screen that will stay in my mind forever.

All the cartoons were 5 minutes or less with a 15 minute intermission And although there were a couple of shorts that were extraordinarily offensive (and I mean “gagging to death”), they were mostly very funny and entertaining and I recommend Spike and Mike to anyone who is not:

• a.) squeamish
• b.) religious
• c.) easily offended
• d.) dead
• e.) legless

Following are short synopses of the cartoons shown on this tour:

• “Use Instructions” Does anyone like butts? Asses? Backsides? Anus(es)? (Or is it “Ani” ?), and all manner of things that emerge from them? This is the ultimate butt selective video I have ever seen.. Every imaginable type of ass in all manner of conceivable situations…
• “Jurassic Fart” No description necessary. The sound effects will keep me up for weeks.. It was great.
• “Dirdy Birdy” Ah… the adventures of Dirdy Birdy and Fergurina the Cat in a tree.. This one is excellent.
• “Illusions of Life” Very strange look at the life of a man who totally hates his mother.. Interesting if nothing else.
• “Finger Food” The phrase “Calgon, take me away” will take on a totally different meaning after viewing this one…as well as ever eating at a fast food restaurant ever again… Let’s say zits and french fries in one breath and leave the rest to your imagination…
• “Smoking” Their version of an anti smoking ad and pretty effective if not completely gruesome… also very good
• “Barflies” I thoroughly enjoyed this one.. but I am a Claymation fan from way back in the Davey and Goliath days.. so it may not count, but these barflies were funny as shit and very many of us can completely relate to the antics of two drunk-out- of-their-skins assholes who will do anything for a laugh…
• “Booby Trap” Set in a strip club, it is a complete parody of the general Japan anime genre including the wonderful way the Japanese make us talk in their cartoons and thankfully including a cat fight between a stripper and…I dare not say WHAT she is fighting because it is too gross. But it is worth the watch..
• “Big Top Asshole” No description necessary, except that it is full of gore and I loved the Lion Tamer getting stuck in the Lion’s cage with catnip in the seat of his pants.. hehehehe
• “Little Rude Riding Hood” Yes, the old story with a new twist. No, she won’t swallow and you’ll find out why they call her “red”. Really great and disgusting all in one.
• “Ah L’Amour” This is an excellent pencil drawing animation that is very graphic in it’s depiction of what women want from men. The phrase “I have Money” will take on new meanings… I want this T-Shirt!
• “Hut Sluts” Summer and Tiffany are two California babes with partying in mind and they get it worse than they ever imagined. “yes, I got this tattoo in prison”. I will say no more…except maybe “blueballs” and I loved the fact that the asshole wore a condom (just to promote safe sex).
• “Fast Driver” “Drive, Fast Racer, drive Fast Racer, Drive” This was my favorite I think. Based on a parody of the cartoon “Speed Racer” (I used to love to watch Speed Racer when I was a kid and had the theme song memorized) This cartoon depicted him as a total queer with an even queerer family (or friends.. whatever they were) and the portrayal was excellent in its severe overplaying of the emotions and action typical in anime.
• “Home, Honey, I’m High” Yep, just what you think it is. Donna Reed’s family hooked on drugs. It was great.
• “Sea Slugs” What do you do with a drunken sailor slug? Send him out to sea.. Then watch what happens… Very short, very funny
• “Yes Timmy, There is a Santa Claus” Although my daughter was extremely offended by this piece, it shows how sick and twisted I am cause I was rolling in the aisles laughing at the irony of it all… Poor Timmy… Talk about melancholy and tortured…
• “Baby’s New Formula” This one has everything.. Cats, babies, blowjobs, alien faces, drama. Don’t miss it.
• “HornDog” Anyone who owns a dog understands the dilemma surrounding a dog that is *coming* of age…
• “Sloaches FunHouse” This has to be in my opinion, the sickest, most offensive, incredibly gross piece of claymation I have ever witnessed in my entire life. It was crowned “The Sickest Film Ever Made” and I have to quietly agree with it. It contained almost every possible offensive bodily function you could ever imagine a clay figure doing. Even I was grossed out completely. And that, my friends, is a difficult task.
• “Devil Went Down to Georgia” Action created by the same geniuses (geniiii??) who did “Nightmare Before Christmas” This short was great including performances by Les Claypool and the music of Charlie Daniels. Very reminiscent of “Nightmare” and very entertaining.
• “Lloyd’s LunchBox” This has to be the alltime disgusting animation. Several shorts showing Lloyd doing gross things to himself that I can’t even describe without gagging. The Zit was the worst… or maybe it was the nose pick… I can’t decide, but believe me, it was gross beyond description and definitely worth watching on an empty stomach.
• “No Neck Joe” Just listening to the audience screaming at the top of their lungs “NO NECK JOE” at the beginning of each nailbiting episode of No Neck Joe was worth the time spent trying to figure out why he has no fucking neck in the first place.
• “Spirit of Christmas” The never-meant-to-be-seen episode of South Park, that spawned this killer animated series. Yes, folks, it’s Jesus vs. Santa Claus in a knock-out, drag-out wrestling match to determine who is the true mascot of Christmas. It was great and the fact that it was completely uncensored had me roaring listening to a bunch of primary school children using language that would make a truck driver blush.

I had to get the T-Shirt and bought a couple of the videos they had on sale. Discussed animation politics with the Em-Cee who politely told me that Wallace and Gromit were very big in England and did I know that? (no-duh) But all in all a worthwhile effort and one of the most memorable times I have had in a long time, with the exclusion of the time I almost forgot to “mind the bottle” in London. But that is another story…

[Chris Fata]

2000

Yes, they’re back, bearing another selection of definitely Disney-free dubiety, both old favourites and new candidates — these reprobates screened South Park and Beavis + Butthead well before the mainstream took them on board. The styles on offer are wide and varied, from computer animation to stick figures and Claymation, and the results are equally diverse. Highlights included Die Hard in Under Two Minutes (80 seconds, to be precise), a super-condensation of Bruce’s best from Konstantin Bronzit, and Bowlin’ Fer Souls by Supergenius, an express elevator to hell. The Squirm-Inducing Oscar was tied between Horned Grandma – pretty much what it sounds like – and Tongue Twister, whose moral is best summarised as “don’t lick lamp-posts”.

Most of the films were by unknowns, though Powerpuff Girls creator Craig McCracken weighed in with some (rather disappointing) No Neck Joe ultra-shorts. More satisfactory was Bill Plympton’s Surprise Cinema, a fine showcase for a variety of cruel pranks. Similarly vicious was Billy’s Balloon, an official selection from Cannes last year, whose sparse animation was countered by the inventive psychopathy of the titular inflatable. Overall, there were more hits than misses, and with the longest film coming in at a mere six minutes, you were never far away from something amusing or memorable. Perhaps less ‘sick’ than I anticipated, yet there’s no denying that ‘twisted’ is a highly applicable word.

2002

Spike and Mike return, with another selection of outrageous animation – except, it seems a little tame this year, with few real “Ewwwwww!” moments for the crowd to savour (though discovering why old ladies drive so slowly, will take quite some getting over…). As ever, the range and style on view was unsurpassed. And, as usual, the quality too varied hugely. Especially lame were heavy.com’s Behind the Music That Sucks – oh, my, slagging off Eminem and Britney Spears, how dangerous – which should have been retitled, “Behind the Animation That Sucks”. At the other end, Spumco’s Fuck Her Gently was lushly animated, and S&M regular Bill Plympton’s Eat was his usual elegant yet weird self, but lacked a decent punch-line. At the opposite end, technically, were Don Hertzfeldt’s A Bitter Tale and Rejected, getting a well-deserved repeat runout. Little more than stick-figures, they still raise fabulous observations on love, life and advertising – the line “My anus is bleeding!” has now entered the TC vocabulary. Also worthy of praise: Timmy’s Lessons in Nature from Mark Simon & T.J, and Radar Films’ When Chickens Attack, the shortest film on the program. But as this show proves, animation is truly a medium where size doesn’t matter – not when you have imagination.

Rating: C

2004

TC’s fourth return to the world of S&M, and as ever, it runs the total range from the sublime to the ridiculous (in both good and bad ways), mixing new entries with old “favourites”. Quotes used advisedly: let’s be honest, it’s time for No Neck Joe and Hut Sluts to retire gracefully. While at the crap end of the spectrum, Sickcom proved it is possible for a 3-minute short to over-stay its welcome, Mama, I’m a Thug managed to be even less amusing, and Ninjews took the one joke of its title and stretched it thinly across a lengthy sequence of poor-quality claymation.

Fortunately, among general mediocrity, a few gems stood out – that’s why we keep going. Here are the TC medal-winners among the new entries (Billy’s Balloon remains a favourite otherwise), and a few other worthy contenders.

• Tip of the TC hat: Cane Toad, Peepshow, Stubble Trouble.
• Bronze. Big Abandoned Refrigerator Adventure. Two evil dolls go on a crime spree before meeting their nemesis in the shape of the titular appliance. Imagine Bride of Chucky: The Wonder Years.
• Silver. Happy Tree Friends. A merchandising juggernaut now available at Hot Topic (the screaming pinata particularly appeals…), the shorts depict cute, furry critters meeting death in a variety of brutal ways. Heh-heh.
• Gold. Here Comes Dr. Tran. A fabulous satire on cinematic consumerism, transforming an unwitting Vietnamese kid into the ultimate action hero (right); the 3D sequence alone is worth the admission price. I liked this so much, Dr. Tran now graces my desktop. What higher praise is possible?

Rating: A-E+
Feb 2004