This is a short story, micro-fiction, in fact, that I’ve penned on the 8th of January 2007. To understand this story, you need to understand that it is direct homage, and build-up on the Man with no Name trilogy which is the character, or even Archetype portrayed by Clint Eastwood in Sergio Leone’s “Spaghetti Westerns“. As many homages, in a way it does not only pay respect to the genre, but breaks it down to its components in such a manner that there’s hardly any story left. The other influence is The Gunslinger, the first book of The Dark Tower series by Stephen King.

This will also be relevant for the upcoming entry, “The Primacy of Colour”, which deals with genres and how we buy into the wrong stuff, the ‘trappings’, things for instance that look like mecha anime, but hardly are. This is only about 500 words long, so I hope you enjoy it.

His horse neighed as it had smelled fresh water, he kept on riding, till he spotted the familiar noise and odor of the saloon.
As he went in, the room fell quiet, all eyes were raised at him. Calculating, watching, as his eyes took to the dim-lit room. Going to the barkeep he could feel the weight of their eyes on him, on his worn clothes, on his holsters and the iron he was packing.
He ordered ale and kept feeling them, as their eyes drew back to what they were doing prior.

***

He bartered with the man keeping the livery stable. He did not comment on the blood on the floor, hid by fresh hay but its scent still hanging heavy in the air. It never did to comment on such.

Leaving the stable, he was confronted by two men, one of them he’d seen in the saloon, this person had seen his money. The other man was unknown to him, but he was dressed sharply. Sharply enough for a town such as this at least.
He spat on the ground, and looking at them from under the rim of his hat, he waited, knowing they’ll state their business. Or they’d go away. Either was fine with him. He spat again.
“Hold it right there!” the sharply dressed man said.
“You stole from me, and I want my money back, or else you’d find yourself dead, par’dner“, his drawl indicated he used the last word as an insult, or at least meant to.
As he watched this silently, people started pouring out of the saloon, and out of his office the sheriff came out.
“What’s this about Earl?”
The sharp man, Earl, looked quickly at the sheriff and back at him, “He was in my store and stole gear and food sheriff!”
The sheriff gave Earl and his friend a calculating look, and looked back at him, “Is that so?”
He looked from under his hat with cool blue eyes, and squinted at the sun, “Can’t say it is.”

***

A tumble-weed had blown across his path like a tired old cliche.
He looked at the wounded man kneeling in front of him, his gun not empty but not quite full in his hand, his other gun quite empty and holstered again.
“Get him, get him and kill him” the man told his dog.
He glanced at the dog, his eyes as cool as the lead he had put into the dog’s owner.
The dog at least knew better, and didn’t get any closer. He turned away.

***

He knew this was only the beginning. His job in this town, were he to take the one of cleaning it, was just beginning.
But he was too tired, there was always another town. The job never ended, and all he got for his problems were more holes in his body, more holes in his mind.

He rode out of the town onto the trail, just one town like so many others.

If people are curious, there’s actually another micro-fiction written in the same venue, of the same character.

Known fact — Clint Eastwood is a badass. In fact, I never really understood why Chuck Norris got all of the attention, when everybody knows that Eastwood is superior in every way.

Forget about Chuck Norris. Eastwood is the true power.

While Inspector “Dirty Harry” Callahan might be his most famous role, I much prefer the character that Eastwood used to propel himself into Hollywood superstardom — The Man With No Name. I recently rewatched all three movies in Sergio Leone’s fantastic Spaghetti Western trilogy starring this character (A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly), and while The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is clearly the best of the three movies (albeit a bit too long, in my opinion, clocking in at nearly three solid hours — I mean, was the “blowing up the bridge” sequence really that critical? Just get to the damn shootout at the cemetery already!), I must admit that I have a genuine soft spot for A Fistful of Dollars.

First, it’s because Fistful is Eastwood’s film and his film alone. No Lee Van Cleefs or Eli Wallachs to steal the spotlight here — it’s nothing but Eastwood being Eastwood, which is pure, unadulterated awesomeness. Second, the movie has a very solid cinematic and narrative foundation, mostly because it shamelessly rips off some very excellent source material — Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo, starring the always exciting Toshiro Mifune as the Samurai With No Name. Now, it’s not quite a Gus Van Sant’s Psycho, but it’s damn near a scene for scene remake of the original jidaigeki samurai piece. Which definitely isn’t a bad thing, since Yojimbo is a hell of a fine flick.

Granted, since Kurosawa Yojimbo was more or less an homage to the Hollywood Western, it wasn’t much of a stretch to replace the Japanese actors with Americans and Italians and swap out the katanas for pistols. It’s still the same dusty town, the same shootouts on the desolate streets. Whether it’s cowboys or samurais, it all adds up to one excellent cinematic experience.

But the real question is … which film is superior? A Fistful of Dollars or the O.G., Yojimbo? Buckle up, kids, it’s time for some science!

The Heroes

When comparing these two films, it really only boils down to one question — Eastwood or Mifune? Which film god reigns supreme?

So he wears a housecoat. Are you gonna tell him not to?

Man … is it actually possible to pick one over the other? I mean, Clint Eastwood is Clint Friggin’ Eastwood — quick on the draw, rocking an awesome poncho, and staring a hole through his opponents with his rock-hard glare. He’s not a very talkative character, but you know he’s gonna whoop some ass when the time comes.

Mifune’s Sanjuro Kuwabatake (a fake name, of course) is a bit more laid back that Eastwood’s Man With No Name. He likes his rice and sake, sports a pimpin’ kimono, and is more likely to pause and think things through before taking action. But like Eastwood, when the time come, he can carve suckas to shreds with the best of them.

However, it seems that Mifune’s lone ronin has a bit more character to him that Eastwood’s mysterious cowboy. He’s not just some guy out to make some easy cash — he’s at a crossroads in Japanese history and is attempting to make a new life for himself. Due to his samurai past, it’s clear that he has a sense of right and wrong and a strong code of honour. But hey, if he can make a few ryo while cleaning up the town’s scum and villainy, well, why not?

Don't you dare make fun of his mule.

Still, can you argue with that look? It’s the squint that launched a thousand ships. A true movie icon. While Mifune’s character is more well-rounded, Eastwood is much more memorable.

So let’s call it a draw, shall we?

The Villains

Of course, no villain could ever hope to stand up to power of Clint Eastwood or Toshiro Mifune. But hey, somebody’s gotta try. Ramon Rojo and Unosuke are decent villains, I suppose, but aren’t all that special. They are both the brother of the gang leader and ultimately the meanest, cruelest, and smartest members of their respective gangs, but that’s about it.

However, there is one big difference between Ramon and Uno that tips the scales in Yojimbo’s favour — weaponry. In A Fistful of Dollars, it’s supposed to be a big deal that Ramon is an excellent shot with a rifle, and he emphatically states that in a duel between a man with a pistol and a man with a rifle, the man with the rifle always wins. It must be one hell of a rifle then, because I’m pretty sure Eastwood mowed down four dudes in about half a second with his revolver when he first walked into town. Yet we’re supposed to believe that one guy with a rifle is gonna be pose a major threat? Sorry, but I ain’t buying it.

But when you bring a gun to a swordfight … well, that changes things considerably. It doesn’t matter how badass Mifune is with his katana — Unosuke has a gun, and that makes the audience truly reconsider Mifune’s strengths and advantages over his rival. After all, how can a sword beat a gun?

Always bring a gun to a knife fight.

Well, as Mifune proves, it’s rather easy, actually, as he uses a throwing knife to get the jump on Uno before rushing in and gutting him with his katana. As quickly as it ends, however, it’s a much better final battle than in Fistful, which requires a little too much from the suspension of disbelief department. To counter Ramon’s deadly accuracy when “shooting for the heart”, Eastwood wears a giant hunk of metal under his poncho and dares Ramon to blow him away. This is acceptable for the first couple of shots, but it gets rather silly as Eastwood shrugs off about a dozen shots and Ramon still foolishly aims for the chest instead of going for, I dunno, a headshot? Sure, Ramon may be proud, but in a life or death situation I doubt he’d act that stupidly.

His gun is bigger than your gun. That makes him better than you, no matter how skilled your revolver is.

In the end, I have to give the edge to Yojimbo, simply because the lame gun versus gun dynamic in Fistful really, really bugs me.

The Goons

Perhaps it’s just me, but I find that Yojimbo can be quite confusing at times (especially the first time you watch it), since all of the Japanese names sound the same, the two gang leaders sorta look the same, and it’s hard to keep track of which guys work for Seibei and which guys are part of Ushitora’s crew. Thankfully, A Fistful of Dollars doesn’t have this problem, as the gangs are easily marked and instantly identifiable — it’s the boring white guys versus the villainous Mexicans.

The face only a mother could love.

Unfortunately, the way Fistful draws such a definitive line between the two gangs goes against the very core of Kurosawa’s original. In Yojimbo, Mifune made several visits to both gangs and a good chunk of time is spent on the samurai playing both sides against each other. Both gangs are equally vile, and Mifune knows he will wipe them both out — but you never really know which gang will get the upper hand until actually happens. Fistful, on the other hand, has no such shades of grey (and not just because the movie is in colour). The Rojos are evil, and that’s that. In fact, the Baxters are practically irrelevant and hardly have any screentime at all, making it more “Clint Eastwood versus the Mexicans” than “lone cowboy versus a corrupt town”.

Another problem is that while the Mexicans are easily identifiable, they are all rather generic (with the exception of Ramon). The Japanese gangs, however, had some truly memorable characters, such as the ugly monobrowed son and the giant thug with the mallet, which made the movie a bit more fun to watch.

Giant man with a giant hammer. I see nothing wrong here.

Gotta give the edge to Yojimbo once again. While their appearances are perhaps played more for laughs (keeping with the overall lighter tone of the film when compared to Fistful), the goons are definitely more memorable in Kurosawa’s film. Plus, the equality of the two gangs actually works within the framework of the plot, which, you know, is a plus.

The Crowning Moment of Awesomeness

Apart from the final showdown, the big scene in each film occurs when the lone samurai / cowboy first arrives in town and wants to make a strong first impression on their potential employers. Naturally, he decides to slaughter a few local homeboys and proceeds to ask the undertaker for some coffins (“… better make it four.”). The Fistful version is ultra cool, simply because Eastwood is at his squinting, scowling, and growling best, delivering the classic lines about how it’s not wise to make fun of his mule before prematurely ending the day of four of Baxter’s toughs.

The equivalent scene in Yojimbo, on the other hand, directly influenced Star Wars:

"No blasters! No blasters!"

That severed arm was, and still is, pretty hardcore. Still, Mifune’s lines aren’t quite as excellent as Eastwood’s (the samurai mocks the gangsters, saying that they look cute and probably couldn’t hurt a fly), and the low angle from behind The Man With No Name as he shoots up the Baxters allows the viewer to soak up all of the action as opposed to Kurosawa’s quick, frenetic swordplay.

Let’s call this one a draw, too, as both scenes are equally great.

…

And so, the winner is …

I guess the scorecards say Yojimbo, and I think in my heart I want to say that Yojimbo is clearly the better film due to its superior characters and narrative … but there’s just something about Clint Eastwood wearing that dirty brown poncho and smoking that cigar to the sweet, sweet sounds on Ennio Morricone’s soundtrack that is the very essence of cinematic awesomeness. It just goes to show that film is an intensely audio-visual medium, and that certain images and characters can burrow their way into our brains and make us overlook the obvious flaws that a movie may contain (such as Fistful’s absolutely atrocious dubbing and voicework).

Try as I might, I truly can’t pick one over the other. Hmmmm. How about I say that we all win for having the chance to witness two great version of the same story? Unless, of course, you haven’t seen either movie. In that case, you’re clearly the loser of this contest.

Attack of the 90s and it’s not pop music!

Well apparently my top 10 actors post was really popular with you so i decided to do another movie based post. Top 10 movie trilogies. Who doesn’t love trilogies?? Now usually in trilogies the first movie is ridiculously good and the rest suck. Example: Mortal Kombat. Haha your kidding me OBALLER! I’m NOT. The first movie was actually really good, cuz the actors were actually not bad, and the fighting was pretty good. This could be because i love the games but anyways after the first wayyyyyyyyyyyy downhill. Like awful, terrible, horrific, brutal. Anyways, here are my top 10 favorite movie trilogies.

10. The Terminator Trilogy

Movies: The Terminator, Judgment Day, Rise of the Machines

Best of the 3: Judgment Day

Actor: Arnold Schwarzenegger

9. X-Men

Movies: X-Men, X-Men United, The Last Stand

Best of the 3: The Last Stand

Actor: Hugh Jackman

8. Mission: Impossible

Movies: Mission: Impossible I, II, III

Best of the 3: The first one

Actor: Tom Cruise

7. Jurassic Park

Movies: Jurassic Park, The Lost World, Jurassic Park III

Best of the 3: The Lost World

Actor: Sam Neill/Jeff Goldblum

6. Lord of the Rings

Movies: Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, Return of the King

Best of the 3: Return of the King

Actor: Elijah Wood

5. The Bourne Trilogy

Movies: Identity, Supremacy, Ultimatum

Best of the 3: The Bourne Ultimatum

Actor: Matt Damon

4. Star Wars 4-6 (The Original Trilogy)

Movies: A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi

Best of the 3: The Empire Strikes Back

Actor: Mark Hamill

3. The Dollars Trilogy or The Man With No Name Trilogy

Movies: A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Best of the 3: The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Actor: Clint Eastwood

2. Indiana Jones

Movies: Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Temple of Doom, The Last Crusade

Best of the 3: The Last Crusade

Actor: Harrison Ford

1. The Matrix

Movies: The Matrix, Reloaded, Revolutions

Best of the 3: The Matrix

Actor: Keanu Reeves

Well there it is, my top 10 favorite trilogies. In every trilogy i love all 3 movies. Now i know a lot of people out there hate the second and third Matrix but i love them. I think they were done well, and furthered the story along with explain a lot more about the Matrix and the existence of Neo as the systemic anomaly. Well anyways, there is it. Until Next Time, OBALLER.

Gran Torino
Starring Clint Eastwood, Christopher Carley, Bee Vang, Ahney Her, Brian Haley, Geraldine Hughes, Dreama Walker, Brian Howe, John Carroll Lynch
Written by Nick Schenk
Directed by Clint Eastwood
Rated R for language throughout, and some violence

Walt Kowalski was born scowling. When Gran Torino begins, it’s been tempered into something resembling sadness on the occasion of his wife’s funeral, but it’s there. It’s a permanent feature on his craggy face, just another line deepened with age.

He can’t help a steely glare at the assembled. The grandchildren mocking Catholic tradition on such a somber day. The bored granddaughter busily pecking text on her cell. His two adult sons and their wives, all perhaps suspecting they’re burying the wrong parent. The carrot-topped priest — a punk kid, really — delivering the eulogy. Walt even despises the church itself, an institution he’d endured solely for his wife’s sake. He’d rather be on his porch, fueling his angry vessel with can after can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

It’s been said that Walt Kowalski marks the onscreen retirement of Clint Eastwood, who at 78 plans to focus his abundant energies on directing. If this is true, Torino is a fitting epitaph, the perfect marriage of Eastwood archetypes: the tight-lipped antihero and the earnest iconoclast whose varied passions confound and delight. And Walt is one of the most fascinating of Clint’s creations.

As Unforgiven (1992) was a bittersweet adieu to not only the Western but also the persona embodied in the Man with No Name, Gran Torino makes peace with “Dirty” Harry Callahan, humanizing him, ending his story thoughtfully, poetically. It should satisfy (one would hope) any remaining desire for Clint to strap that .44 to his frame for one last revenge fantasy. Harry can’t exist at 78. He wouldn’t be the antihero anymore, just an unpleasant old man.

And that’s what Walt is when we first meet him. His only meaningful relationships seem to be with his patient Labrador, Daisy, and his barber (John Carroll Lynch), with whom he exchanges the kind of savage barbs only longtime friends can enjoy. Other than that, Walt’s not much for people or words, a common trait in the Eastwood menagerie. I was reminded of something the actor once told Rolling Stone’s Tim Cahill, when explaining the Man with No Name’s lack of verbosity:

You’ve said that in the original script [for A Fistful of Dollars], the [character] shot off his mouth more than his gun.

… I kept telling Sergio [Leone, the film's director], “In a real A picture, you let the audience think along with the movie; in a B picture, you explain everything.” That was my way of selling my point. For instance, there was a scene where he decides to save the woman and child. She says, “Why are you doing this?” In the script he just goes on forever. He talks about all kinds of subplots that come out of nowhere, and it goes on and on and on. I thought that was not essential, so I just rewrote the scene the night before we shot it.

Okay, the woman asks, “Why are you doing this?” and he says…

“Because I knew someone like you once and there was nobody there to help.” … We left it oblique and let the audience wonder: “Now wait a minute, what happened?” You try to let people reach into the story, find things in it, choice little items that they enjoy. … You don’t play down to people.

Walt is born of a similar economy. He’s not forthcoming with personal details, and what he does begrudgingly divulge comes in pinches. We know he’s a Korean War veteran, proud on the surface but perhaps still haunted by its atrocities. He loves his sons, in his way, but probably wasn’t the most communicative or demonstrative father. (The film appears to condemn the emotional distance favored by “Dirty” Harry and his ilk by illustrating its real-life consequences.) He thinks his neighborhood’s gone to hell; that goddamn melting pot spilled over and drowned his block in Asians. He once worked at a Ford plant, where he helped assemble the very car he now keeps in his garage under protective cloth: a 1972 Gran Torino. (When his granddaughter asks if she can have it for college, along with some of his “retro” furniture, that scowl burrows further into his head.)

We bring, of course, our own history with Clint to his pictures; the movie counts on that. But Walt must exist apart from it, and it’s an interesting challenge. When he confronts a trio of thugs on a corner, we see 50 years of celluloid badass. Obviously, the characters can’t. To them he’s a geriatric with delusions of heroism. So Clint has to convey something deeper that’s just as intimidating. What emerges from those impenetrable blues isn’t a suicidal old fool, but a man’s who’s faced worse hells than tough-talking street trash. They recognize this and wisely back off.

No such luck with the Asian gang who one night stumble into his life — or, more specifically, onto his lawn, which he maintains with as much loving care as his car. (Yup, Clint gets to invoke that tired cliche of crank, “Get off my lawn!”) Their first glimpse of him is a murderous glare over a rifle, and the relationship disintegrates from there. But on the bright side — and this is the movie’s focus and strength — he finally gets to meet the neighbors.

The Lors are a Hmong family steeped in tradition, although their teenaged children are wholly Westernized. Walt finds a curious ally in Sue (the terrific Ahney Her in her screen debut), who’s just as bullheaded as he is and takes his defense mechanisms with a grace beyond her years. In her brother Thao (Bee Vang) he discovers an opportunity to be a proper father figure, enlisting him in a neighborhood clean-up as payment for trying to jack his car in a botched gang initiation. Walt never fully absorbs this strange culture, but he accepts it, in his way. He sure likes their cuisine, though, and they’re more than happy to deliver to his doorstep. (Walt’s diet is otherwise reminiscent of Callahan’s. The only difference is Harry never got to finish his meals.)

To Eastwood and screenwriter Nick Schenk’s credit, Walt’s redemption is not a complete about-face slide into mawkishness. For the most part, he remains set, but he betrays the occasional crack. He still calls his barber a money-hungry wop. Crushed empties continue to litter his porch. And his relationship with his own family doesn’t change. In one of the film’s most heatbreaking scenes, Walt calls his oldest son but can’t quite muster the words, and his son would much rather get back to paying his bills.

To its detriment, Gran Torino has been marketed by Warner Bros. as “Elderly grump fucks up gangstas,” eliciting a few complaints about the ending, which I won’t reveal here. To be sure, it’s a little tidy, but it’s the release Walt needs. It’s the release Clint needs. While it may not befit the great Callahan, I think he’d appreciate it, nonetheless.

As soon as we’d posted the top 30 list (see it here) we knew we wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to post a few of our other favourites that didn’t make it onto the list.  (Including a few some of you reminded us of). Unlike the Top 30 list we’re not claiming that this 20 are necessarily the most important trance tracks ever made, but they’re certainly some of our favourites.   Nor are we going to pretend this Top 20 list is a balanced representation of the last 20 years either in the way the Top 30 list was meant to be.  It’s just a bunch of trance tracks we really like

1. ‘Kinetic’ Golden Girls. R&S Records, 1992
2. ‘Vicious Circles’ Poltergeist. Platipus, 1993
3. ‘Trance in Saigon’ Pablo Gargano. Eve, 1996
4. ‘Sugar Rush’ Man With No Name. Perfecto 1996
5. ‘L`Annonce Des Couleurs’ Mac Zimms. DMD, 1997
6. ‘Home’ Chakra. WEA, 1997
7. ‘Stage 1’ Space Manoeuvres (Separation Mix) Red Parrot, 1998
8. ‘Learning to Fly’ Mother’s Pride (Trouser Enthusiasts Mix). Heat, 1998
9. ‘What Ya Got 4 Me’ Signum. Tidy Trax 1998
10. ‘Cloudwalking’ Pulser. ATCR, 1999
11. ‘Communication’ Armin. AM: PM, 1999
12. ‘Spiritualized’ The Olmec Heads. Neo, 1999
13. ‘Synaesthesia’ The Thrillseekers. Neo, 1999
14. ‘Seven Cities’ Solar Stone (Armin van Buuren mix). Hooj Choons, 1999
15. ‘Grooveline’ Blockster (Matt Darey Mix). MOS, 1999 (A little known gem)
16. ‘Samsara’ Dave Holmes (Steve Morley mix). Tidy Trax, 1999
17. ‘Reincarnations’ Steve Morley (Dumonde mix). Neo, 1999
18. ‘Beautiful’ Mash Up. Incentive, 2000
19. ‘Questions Must Be Asked’ David Forbes. Serious 2001
20. ‘Dreamland’ Nu Nrg. Vandit 2002

My 15 Favorite Clint Eastwood Performances

1.HARRY CALLAHAN: Dirty Harry/Magnum Force/The Enforcer/Sudden Impact/The Dead Pool
2.THE MAN WITH NO NAME: A Fistful of Dollars/For A Few Dollars More/The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
3.Gran Torino
4.Absolute Power
5.Unforgiven
6.Million Dollar Baby
7.In the Line of Fire
8.Blood Work
9.High Plains Drifter
10.The Gauntlet
11.Every Which Way But Loose/Any Which Way You Can
12.Escape From Alcatraz
13.Hang ‘Em High
14.Bronco Billy
15.Play Misty For Me

My 15 Favorite Clint Eastwood-Directed Films

1.Mystic River
2.Unforgiven
3.Flags Of Our Fathers/Letters From Iwo Jima
4.Million Dollar Baby
5.Absolute Power
6.Bird
7.The Gauntlet
8.High Plains Drifter
9.Gran Torino
10.Blood Work
11.Sudden Impact
12.The Outlaw Josey Wales
13.Play Misty For Me
14.Bronco Billy
15.Space Cowboys

Il existe un style musical appelé Trance Psychédélique, ou Psytrance, voire Trance-Goa. Dans ce style, on retrouve quelques groupes parmi tant d’autres, tels qu’Astral Projection, Infected Mushroom, Man With No Name, ou encore X-Dream.

Mais que qu’est-ce donc que cette Psytrance ?
La particularité principale de la Psytrance est d’avoir un rythme rapide, sans relâche, et qui varie entre 125 et 160 battements par minute. Ce rythme est parfaitement bien entretenu par ses basses: elles sont omni-présentes, puissantes, entrainantes, imposantes.
La Psytrance a commencé en Inde vers les années 90 d’où son nom premier de Trance-Goa, et sa côte populaire a atteind des sommets en Israel, là où sont représentés les meilleurs artistes.

La sensation éprouvée à l’écoute de ce style est trés intime, on ressent la musique personnellement et intérieurement, aucune ressemblance avec la techno ou quelque chose du même genre. La sonorité nous maintient en éveil, la musique éléctronique émise par les synthétiseurs nous donnent l’envie de bouger, ou tout simplement d’écouter.
Le rythme mélodique est envoutant, presque doux et charmeur, au point qu’on aille suspendre nos oreilles sur les enceintes.

Quelques vidz pour vous faire découvrir :

Man With No Name : Greece 2000 – Three Drives

Astral Projection : Searching For UFO’s

X-Dream : Our Own Happiness

It´s from 1999 – the year of  the insane pre-millenium hysteria. It´s about a bunch of friends living in Cardiff, England. They all have their problems: bad sexlife, hating their jobs, boredom, relationship problems etc. etc.. But problems are not the only thing they have in common;  they all share an interest in clubbing, extacy, boze and pot; and fucking ofcourse.

I saw this movie for the first time during the DVD release (acctually I think it was a straight to DVD release in Sweden) and this was during the time when I recently had come to like techno and trance, begining to discover names as Man With No Name, Michi Lange, Judge Jules and his Hi-gate, etc. (from being a former hiphop-junkie). And this movie, with it´s amazing soundtrack, opened my eyes (read ears) even more.

Just a few years later I went for my first sort of “party trip“. Me, my family, and a friend of mine traveled to Benidorm. This was the major turning point regarding the musical aspect of my life. For the first time in my life I had the chance to acctually be partying and clubbing to the same kind of music as in the movie. I remember how this was the first time I really understood what an amazing track Daft Punk´s “One More Time” is.

So, you get the picture?

Anyone who knows which movie I´m talking about?

I´ll hit ya up with the answer leter on today. But now, I´ll hit you up with  these two little babies instead (both from the film mentioned above):

Liquid Child – Diving Faces.Mp3 (Unfrtunately it is not the vocal mix, which I acctually prefer.)

and,

System F – Out Of The Blue (extended version)

(System F, now a days more known by the name Ferry Corsten, is a DJ and Producer from Rotterdam, Netherlands. He´s been big on the scene for more than a decade and with the track above he has come immortal on the dance floors world wide, check out his Myspace: www.myspace.com/ferrycorsten )

The Situation: Let’s face it, some guys are just too tough, crafty, or out-and-out evil for regular law enforcement agencies to take down. That’s why we need bounty hunters. Bounty hunters have been a part of American pop culture since the days of the Old West (if not longer), and they seem quite capable of morphing into pretty much any genre you can think of–westerns, sci-fi, fantasy, mysteries, you name it.

The Criteria: Since bounty hunters are so prevalent in popular culture, there are countless examples that you can choose from. But, since I had to limit myself to four, I decided to pick guys (Domino Harvey came close to making the cut…would that I could pick five) who were obviously doing what they do for a tangible reason–whether it’s money, revenge, freedom, or a combination of one or more–as opposed to characters who claim to be bounty hunters, but end up regulating out of concerns more noble than money or vengeance.

1. Brisco County, Jr.

A Harvard-educated lawyer, Brisco never wanted to follow in his father’s bounty hunting footsteps. That is, until County Sr. is brutally gunned-down by John Bly and his gang. With sidekick Socrates Poole, rival-turned-associate Lord Bowler, and Comet the Wonder Horse, Brisco County, Jr. straps on his dad’s six-shooter and searches the Old West for the men responsible for his father’s death. Oh, there’s a weird golden orb from the future involved, too.

2. Ezekiel Stone

Zeke Stone was a cop. When his wife was raped and the man responsible goes free, Stone murders him in cold blood. Then, wouldn’t ya know, Zeke gets killed and gets sent straight to hell. Fifteen years later, there’s a prison break in the underworld and the Devil makes Stone a deal: return to Earth, track down and return the 113 escaped souls, and earn a second chance at life. Bounty hunting + damned souls = awesome.

3. The Man With No Name

C’mon, it’s Clint. The Man With No Name more or less re-invented the western, as well as cementing the idea of the laconic anti-hero in American culture.

4. Boba Fett

Fett’s like Eastwood’s Man With No Name in a helmet and jet-pack. Forget everything that’s been done to and with this guy since 1983, when he first showed up in Empire Strikes Back, you knew he was a badass. He didn’t speak more than a dozen words in Empire or Return of the Jedi, and he still managed to become one of the most (if not the most) popular characters in the trilogy.

I have found that males in general are the hardest to convince to convert to or accept a vegan diet. Do not get me wrong, I know there are many vegans that are male and I in fact know a few. But, when you first tell people you are vegan, who are the people to react the strongest? Males, generally. It probably has something to do with their provider vs nurturer upbringing, or their hunter vs gatherer mentality. Whether we like to admit it or not in today’s day and age, underneath it all most people still have hunter vs gatherer mentalities. Who here has not met a man who thought women should not work? Who has not met a woman who expects her man to bring home the bacon (preferably faux!). I personally do not agree with the separation of sexes; men are the “strong” ones and women are the “sensitive” ones. I think this is a little old fashioned, and surprisingly it even stretches to our dinner plate.

Men love their grills…covered in dead carcases of one creature or the next. The idea of having a tempeh burger on the grill not only perplexes them but horrifies them. How does one convert a man such as this? Vegan inspiration is what they need. Simply telling them the horrors of slaughterhouses may not be enough. Chicks getting their beaks cut off may not do it either….but what if Dirty Harry or the Man With No Name were to be VEGAN? Yes, in fact, CLINT EASTWOOD is VEGAN! *gasp* Not possible? Possible! What man has not quoted Dirty Harry or proclaimed the awesomeness of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly?? Sure, there will be those that swear off Clint for life for the atrocity that is veganism, but perhaps some guys (even yours) will think “hey, Eastwood can do it, so can I”. Afterall, technically he would then have a true comparison between himself and Dirty Harry. So if moral reasoning doesn’t work, try the Eastwood reasoning. Think you might get lucky and convert your guy?  Well, do you? “Do you feel lucky? Do you punk?”

“I try to stick to a vegan diet heavy on fruit, vegetables, tofu, and other soy products.”

–Clint Eastwood–

Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry, directed by Don Siegel (1971)

Let me be the first to congratulate Clint Eastwood for reaching fifty years as a star. At least, 1958 marked his first appearance in a featured/ensemble role, in Lafayette Escadrille, about the famous flying squadron, alongside Tab Hunter, David Janssen and Darren McGavin. It was only a moderate attraction considering it was directed by that air-ace movie expert William Wellman. But Clint seems to have taken it to heart because for the fifty years since he’s specialised in man’s-man movies with women used as not much more than decoration at best, often as rape fodder. I get the idea he made The Bridges of Madison County just so he could finally win the women over.

There’s no doubt in my mind that, along the way, he superseded the all-American hero that Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, Henry Fonda, James Stewart and John Wayne once represented. All of them had other strings to their bows of course, Cooper being the most limited in range; I’ve never seen him in a comedic role. Clint, apart from a couple of ape-slapstick movies, the same. Clint’s first starring role on tv, Rawhide, which began screening in the New Year of 1959, had some whimsical moments. Mainly, as the ramrod of the trail drive, he was a tough guy again. And when he became a full-fledged star in 1967, on the big screen, via the “Man With No Name” trilogy — A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, he represented the all-American for a totally new generation where most of the time it was hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys. Gable and Coop were dead, Fonda and Stewart semi-retired, the Duke at 60 still active but slowing down. The new generation of Kennedy-King survivors were anarchists thriving on (on-screen) violence, taking over from disillusioned peace-lovers — who probably weren’t moviegoers anyway, judging from box-office results.

My favorite Clint period must be his first decade, where he showed as much variety as he was capable of, before narrowing his focus down to what might be called “The Clint Eastwood Genre”; Sylvester Stallone and then Arnie Schwarzenegger further focused down to an ‘action’ formula that would infect Mel Gibson, Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford, even Anthony Hopkins among many others. Following on from his opening western series, Clint did war movies Where Eagles Dare and Kelly’s Heroes, the musical Paint Your Wagon — not as bad as it’s made out to be — and created the classic character Dirty Harry. Play Misty for Me and The Eiger Sanction were interesting and showed more variety, but his cowboys got ever nastier — Joe Kidd, High Plains Drifter — until the reformed outlaw, Josey Wales. For me this picture did what Unforgiven (1992) was hailed for doing, more artificially, sixteen years later. Here Clint plays a reformed gunfighter, a conspicuous man of peace, who in the last five minutes of screen time reverts to the Clint we all know, blazing away indiscriminantly with his six-guns: “Killed most anything that walked or crawled, one time or another…”

In between, amid a lot of dross, came the engrossing Escape from Alcatraz (1979), another of his best directed by Don Siegel, and spy thrillerFirefox (1982), almost as good in a low-key way. Toward the end of that decade he worked his way more into direction (Bird, etc).

This brings us to In the Line of Fire following up Unforgiven, when Clint was 63. This week must be the fourth time I’ve watched it on tv. Written by Jeff Maguire, it always seemed to me a well-plotted thriller with all the necessary suspense, etc, but only now am I grasping its underlying message, which is none too inspiring. And I would dispute Leonard Maltin’s assertion that Eastwood has never been better. As far as the theme goes, it makes a hero of a pretty dumb guy, despite his conspicuous jazz snobbery and ability tickling the ivories. I think the lesson of the movie is that you can bumble your way through life (he loses his wife and daughter) and your career (apparently in thirty years in the Secret Service he has never rated a promotion) and still qualify as an all-American hero. Throughout, he is pathetically led by the nose by the villain Mitch Leary, a.k.a. “Booth” played by John Malkovich; bullies his young partner (Dylan McDermott) to stay on the force through serious panic attacks and ends up directly responsible for his death; and despite being an obnoxious old fart wins the knockout gorgeous woman as usual — in this case Rene Russo, an exception in being only one generation adrift from Clint’s age.

It helps that his boss is his buddy (John Mahoney) and has saved his ass a hundred times from being terminated from the Secret Service since bungling his first big assignment: protecting JFK in the motorcade at Dallas. Never mind, despite the fact that there are “229″ people guarding the president at a banquet, Clint and girlfriend Rene are somehow at the center of things, barking orders at everyone in sight to ensure the president is saved. Clint also pulls through, unlike genius “Booth”. I can’t help thinking this is a movie deliberately contrived for a male audience that might vote in a dumb president because he is the one they “would most like to have a beer with”, even though someone as unexciting as genuine war hero cum intellectual John Kerry slaughtered him in a series of tv debates on the issues. Is it an accident that the genius is a paranoid, homicidal maniac and the hero a dumb, ordinary screw-up? Even catching a glimpse of his own personal file at some stage — Clint calls himself “a borderline burnout with questionable social skills” — doesn’t give him any insight into himself. Somehow, Clint’s character, Frank Corrigan, in his mid-fifties, the age he is playing, retains his professional confidence fully intact, even overblown to the point of arrogance; to say nothing of his sexual confidence, able to draw much younger women though coming out with some juvenile lines of sexual innuendo.

It only got better for Clint in the sex department at the end of the millennium, as he crowded seventy. I once did a review of a movie from 1999 where he seemed to have stepped into a Brad Pitt role that Clint had to take over at the last minute — an alcoholic this time, a full burnout, having lost his wife and child again, but showing off saggy abs and having nubile 23-year-olds falling all over him. I’ll have to dig it up some time.

Spaghetti Western films tore into the film scene around the middle of the swinging sixties. What was significant to this genre of western film was that it was low budged, violent, and usually had a minimalist cinematography style. The term Spaghetti was introduced because they were produced by Italian studios, and usually filmed in Italy as well.

Although the history is highly interesting, the matter of concern with this post has to due to the composer who did the musical score for (in my opinion) the greatest spaghetti western film ever; The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966). In fact, he did the musical scores for all of the ‘Man with No Name’ films. The composer is the great Ennio Morricone.

Below I’ve posted three videos. The first one up for your viewing pleasure is the opening titles for The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly which features the theme song for the movie. The second film clip is the graveyard seen which features the composition entitles “The Ecstasy of Gold.” And finally, the third clip is of the final duel scene from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly which features some of the finest displays of cinematography I have ever witnessed; so simple, yet so affective. Please indulge!

What I wanted to tie this into was ordering European coffee and enjoying it! Specifically I wanted to look at ordering coffee in an Italian coffee bar (see the ties? Spaghetti westerns to Italian coffee? It’s a meal in itself!), and what I guess you could call…etiquette. First thing you will want to keep in mind is that ordering a drink at the bar, and ordering it to sit and enjoy, has two different prices. Because most of the tourists sit down and drink their coffee, they can exploit this (in a way) and charge more to use the seating capabilities.

If you were wanting to order an espresso in Italy, all you would have to do is simply ask for a “caffe,” however, you must remember to drink it quickly. Espresso is made to be enjoyed quickly, not a casual sip and bullshit drink. Also, any coffee after breakfast or 11am should not contain milk. You’ll be a laughing stock if you order a cappuccino after 11am. This is really too bad… because I really enjoy a good cappuccino… and I guess I hate to admit it?? In a later post I will go over proper drink terminology. Cappuccinos from most places in our little city are not cappuccinos at all…

Fistful of Dollars, the first of the “Man with No Name” trilogy and the film that popularized what came to be known as the “Spaghetti Western” lives up to its legacy. From the opening scene with the Man with No Name riding into San Miguel to the bloody ending the film is incredible. San Miguel is the town where the only way to get respect is by killing so the only men who work anymore are the undertaker and the unsuccessful Cantina owner. Everyone else works for the Baxters or the Rojos with Eastwood in the middle. The Man with no Name plays one family against the other protecting the few innocent people and eliminating the towns two ruling families.
The movie is beautifully made from Leone’s signature scenic shots to Ennio Morricone’s haunting score . I particularly enjoyed the shot when the Baxters are crossing San Miguel to meet with the Rojos. A long shot of the Rojos house from about where the Baxter’s house is. The Baxters cross into the shot and walk away from us across town towards their enemies. The score sets the mood to match Leone’s shots and builds the tension in the right moments. It does what any good score should do. The movie’s theme music is great and the hook is haunting.
Eastwood’s Man with No Name is appropriately frightening and charming when he plays the families against one another. The other actors aren’t all that much to watch. They’re not bad, but none of them really compare to Eastwood’s performance. Even Gian Maria Volontè as the main villain Ramón Rojo isn’t really all that impressive. He pulls off the ruthless monster well, but there’s not much else to it. Not that that’s entirely his fault, the script doesn’t give the character all that much depth. The script isn’t bad but it’s not great either. Pretty standard for westerns of the time with the slightly corny dialog, but honestly not nearly as bad as other westerns I’ve seen. What will probably get most people who’ve never seen a Spaghetti Western before is the dubbing. The dialog comes off a little bit more awkward when the only lips the words match are Eastwood’s.
Overall, the film is great. Beautifully shot with a great score, solid characters, a good plot, and a good performance by Eastwood. If you’re looking to watch a western, then you will not be disappointed by this movie. I’d give it 3 1/2 out of 4 stars.

PHILIP
“Tony, have I asked you about that murder by the four homeless people last week?”

TONY
“Hey, Phil, can we talk about it tomorrow? I need to get some money for some dinner.”

i used to be really into clubbing. when i first moved to london i took the opportunity to abandon the cheesy townie clubs of my hometown. after several years of rectangular bouncers, snakebite and black and guest appearances by aussie soap stars desperately seeking that panto contract, london’s thriving 1994 club scene was an eye opener.

no carpeted walls to be found, these clubs were either impossibly cool in a hacienda, minimalist fashion or impossibly glitzy, like malibu stacey. then there was megatripolis.

as students forever seeking a bargain night out, we would arrive at heaven on a thursday and enter a different planet. megatripolis was not so much a club as an experience. you could use the internet, which was a revelation in 1994.

i have absolutely no idea which dj’s i heard there, it was all you could do to find the dancefloor via the labyrinth of chillout rooms, bars and market stalls. megatripolis was more than a club - there were fortune tellers, poets and the soundtrack was early trance.

early trance was nothing like the genre most people love to hate, gatecrasher-style hands-perpetually-in-the-air trance. it wasn’t too fast, too cheesy or too produced,  it was minimal, rhythmic and experimental. i loved early trance but i remember danny rampling playing a trance set in 1996 at the leisure lounge that killed the vibe and it was all over for me beyond that point. it had become a wall of noise, a characteristic of the music I loathe, such as rock and metal. 

him indoors loves all trance, he doesn’t seem to mind (or realise) that he can’t dance to it cos its too fast, and forgives the cheesy ‘i’m an angel, flying higher’ lyrics and tiresome 80s covers. so I made him this mix to remind him of the good old days sucking on lollipops and buying complicated bongs down under the arches…

proper trance – download here

slam  – eterna

gipsy – i trance you

leftfield – song of life

gat decor – passion

hardfloor – acperience

rising high collective – fever called love – hardfloor mix

robert armani – circus bells – hardfloor mix

bedrock – for what you dream of

klatsch – god save the queer

mory kante – yeke yeke – hardfloor mix

jaydee- plastic dreams

leftfield – open up

robotman -do da doo

felix – don’t you want me – mars plastic remix

ramirez – hablando

poltergeist – vicious circles

age of love – age of love

jam and spoon - stella

grace – not over yet

man with no name – paint a picture

dance 2 trance – power of american natives

quench – dreams

pete lazonby – sacred cycles

jam and spoon – follow me

art of trance – prana

westbam – wizards of the sonic

pete lazonby – sacred cycles

jens – loops and tings