Julian Grant's F*ckload of Scotch Tape is the perfect film to watch at 3:00 AM with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and your favorite smoke in the other. It also plays wonderfully on a lazy Saturday morning over a plate of hash browns and greasy bacon. In fact, you can enjoy it at any time, it's that damn good. After the initial viewing, my immediate reaction was, "Where has this film been all my life?" FLOST is a breath of fresh air from the entertainment that seems mass produced for members of the Oprah Book Club.
So what is it about? Fans of Jim Thompson's, "The Getaway" (the novel, not one of the two butchered film versions) will recognize the surreal, hyper-violent, spiral descent into madness and demise thrust upon Doc, the main character. And while the ending might not be a happy one, it is certainly a deserved one. Likewise for Benji in FLOST, played brilliantly by the young Graham Jenkins. The choices made early in the film have consequences from which there is no escape. And, of course, there's a dame to provide comfort while hastening the inevitable price that must be paid.
Sounds like a typical noir plot, right? Well, yes. And it is. But it's not your typical noir film. Gone are the shadows, harsh angles and billows of cigarette smoke. In their places are stylizations bordering on mania, hard drugs and... MUSIC! That's right, it's a noir musical whose backbeat is blood and money. And boy does it entertain.
The man behind the original music is the director's longtime friend, Kevin Quain. As another reviewer stated, Quain's music has a Tom Waits quality when first heard. But listen closely and you'll hear a true original, an artist who writes and sings songs that could have come from the America of 1912 instead of 2012. Musicals are risky experiments. If the words, music, images and story don't all fit together just right, the whole film blows up. In FLOST, it is a match made in heaven sliding straight towards hell.
The stories upon which the film is based come from the writings of Jed Ayres, a pulp-fiction author whose just-released collection of shorts is titled, appropriately, "A F*ckload of Shorts." I'm eager to read these to learn more about Benji and his world.
As I understand it, F*ckload of Scotch Tape is about to hit the festival circuit. If you get a chance to see it on the big screen, don't pass it up. There is so much visual flair and gut-wrenching music to warrant seeing this in a theater. But if you can't make it, definitely catch it digitally or on DVD when it becomes available. And wherever you see it, keep that bottle of whiskey close by.
So what is it about? Fans of Jim Thompson's, "The Getaway" (the novel, not one of the two butchered film versions) will recognize the surreal, hyper-violent, spiral descent into madness and demise thrust upon Doc, the main character. And while the ending might not be a happy one, it is certainly a deserved one. Likewise for Benji in FLOST, played brilliantly by the young Graham Jenkins. The choices made early in the film have consequences from which there is no escape. And, of course, there's a dame to provide comfort while hastening the inevitable price that must be paid.
Sounds like a typical noir plot, right? Well, yes. And it is. But it's not your typical noir film. Gone are the shadows, harsh angles and billows of cigarette smoke. In their places are stylizations bordering on mania, hard drugs and... MUSIC! That's right, it's a noir musical whose backbeat is blood and money. And boy does it entertain.
The man behind the original music is the director's longtime friend, Kevin Quain. As another reviewer stated, Quain's music has a Tom Waits quality when first heard. But listen closely and you'll hear a true original, an artist who writes and sings songs that could have come from the America of 1912 instead of 2012. Musicals are risky experiments. If the words, music, images and story don't all fit together just right, the whole film blows up. In FLOST, it is a match made in heaven sliding straight towards hell.
The stories upon which the film is based come from the writings of Jed Ayres, a pulp-fiction author whose just-released collection of shorts is titled, appropriately, "A F*ckload of Shorts." I'm eager to read these to learn more about Benji and his world.
As I understand it, F*ckload of Scotch Tape is about to hit the festival circuit. If you get a chance to see it on the big screen, don't pass it up. There is so much visual flair and gut-wrenching music to warrant seeing this in a theater. But if you can't make it, definitely catch it digitally or on DVD when it becomes available. And wherever you see it, keep that bottle of whiskey close by.