Compassion is a luxury to those that can’t afford it. Tucked away, far away, in the back of one’s life, is the idea that what drives, what motivates, is the survival instinct. It is in the basic fundamental building blocks of most life forms on this rock, and it certainly digs into the heart of man. We wake up, we breathe in and out, and we seek food and shelter, and then? What next? Ahh…that depends on the person, right? Nurture? Nature?

And what if one is focused on some sort of self-centered, narrow-minded set of goals? Does it truly limit, or does it make one merely a well-educated creature, barely living like some sort of half-mad monster? We dig into the deep recesses of the human soul, pondering these expensive questions, in this week’s Hidden Flick, Tsotsi.

Filmed in South Africa, directed by Gavin Hood, from a novel written by Athol Fugard, which Hood adapted for the cinema, and winner of the 2005 Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, this dramatic story of one man’s redemption has been chosen because a) I believe that despite its international accolades, most people in the West have not seen it, nor relate to its premise, b) it is an unsentimental definition of a spiritual rags to riches tale, and c) the level of compassion achieved by the lead character is quite astounding after one witnesses the evil at the root of his soul in the opening sequences. READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick, Tsotsi…

This one is for an old friend with an odd name…a Seal amongst Men. A Brit, neither Spanish, nor French, wandering through the night with a German…

Nocturnal dissonance swirls into a fine point of clarity. Sure enough, you’re on the set of your own paper mache talk show. Psychedelic tendencies of abstract imagery abound. Give me something from a dream whence I breathe. Wander into sealish dives, backing away from the avatar, away from unconditional unconscious dreamscapes. Bring IT on.

We ponder the French because…well…someone has to, and it’s been a while since we’ve wandered away from the American shores of self-examination in this third season of Hidden Flick. Indeed, we also gaze upon the dreams of a young man with a wild imagination who can not focus his creativity into any form of daytime productivity.

We all dance along the precipice of daydreams, and some of us fall over the edge, the precipice which divides reality and fantasy, cross that bridge, but not getting burned, you may not know what you are going through, but time is the space which implodes…a prayer for the dreaming…life carries on with this week’s Hidden Flick, La Science des rêves, literally The Science of Dreams, or as marketed in the west, The Science of Sleep.

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WARNING: This week’s edition attacks all cherished earthbound concepts as if some alien intelligence, some Trickster, is looking down and laughing at us all. I blame Mike.

As the Aught decade comes to a close, most people take a look back at not only the last ten years, but—as humans dwell within the holiday season at the moment—what exactly fuels mankind’s collective metaphysical engine, and, alas, what should be left behind.

The 2000s will be forever remembered as the decade where the United States of America was brought to its knees, its outlook crippled, and as the era when centralized and focused greed and corruption finally toppled the Empire, pushing the dust far outside its own borders, cascading down and around for all to breathe; indeed, encircling the entire globe. Oh, but this is the time of Cheer and Good Will towards all Men and Women, no?

Well…let’s look at that concept, with a nod back to the FEAR that gripped this nation for nearly the entire decade, and think about what it is to be a HUMAN, and what motivates them, and what strikes deep anxiety within its mortal frame. Yes, let’s gander at our final Hidden Flick of the decade, the 11th of season 3, and 41st overall. I suppose it isn’t a stretch to describe the chilling film, Fire in the Sky as a subliminal holiday tale, as well.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick – Fire in the Sky…

Not being a Christian—or a Clausian, for that matter—some of the holiday film imagery is totally lost on me. I don’t always get all of the players, either, or WHO was who, and WHEN they did WHAT, and whether John the Baptist was beheaded upside down, or Moses played for the Rockets, or Brian was really the Messiah, or if that spaceship that he rode in during the Monty Python film PROVED the existence of extraterrestrials.

I also don’t get what role this old Jerry Garcia wannabe plays. Is his name St. Nick, or Kringle, or Claus? What the fuck? And how did this fat ass that parties with elves become a saint? Answer me this—in the Lord of the Rings, the elves were normal-sized pseudo-humans, who also happened to look like Aryan wanktards who have pointy ears, and were all conceived by Johnny Winter and Spock. In Santa’s Frat House up north, elves are these little mutant munchkins who are either nerds with goatees, or gay (uhh…Hermie, the blonde kid, who wants to be a dentist in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Drunkard? HELL-LOW. Red flag). Jesus, get me a Tylenol, will ya?

Well, enough of that. It’s the holiday season, and THIS time, we’ve got ourselves a bit of a minor masterpiece, which then morphed into a cheesy 70s television series about a family with 174 kids. Uh…birth control, people! This week’s little holiday Hidden Flick charmer is The Homecoming, and it starred Patricia Neal (a sublime actress who survived cancer and being married to the great eccentric author Roald Dahl).

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick – The Homecoming…

And that sound you hear isn’t a bowl of mashed potatoes splattered against the wall, or a brandy bottle breaking in the back alley, or even a dessert cart wheeled off the balcony. No, that’s the sound of the Great Beast Itself. Yep—the traditional Thanksgiving Turkey.

Don’t get your forks, spoons, and knives out, or your sporks, for that matter. This bird ain’t exactly edible. Hell, I’m not even sure if your loved ones should even see it, which explains why I had to clear the room when it was on full display. Yes, this week’s Hidden Flick is a real turkey of the cinematic breed, and I apologize in advance for its placement in the hallowed halls of our little film collection, but sometimes a clunker makes everything else that much better. Either that, or Cabin Boy is cheese classic-worthy.

Um, no. Turkey is as Turkey does, and this film contains nary a redeemable scene. However, that sort of critical thinking hasn’t stopped us before, right? As long as one can see the true spirit of filmmaking at work, scenes can sort of jump out in their own way, and produce a lasting memory. Well, let’s not get carried away. We are talking about Cabin Boy, and it does feature Letterman alumni Chris Elliott in his lone “star vehicle.”

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…

Hidden within the soul of certain cops is the feeling that they’re above the law. I’m not saying they’re not, mind you. They do get to sample the best dope, beat on the innocent and drive way past the speed limit. To Protect and Serve, as it were. But whom?

And speaking of The MAN, we slither into the City of Lost Angels in our latest thrill ride (and this one has a manic drive down the wrong way of a very crowded freeway), directed by William Friedkin, who made his name in the ’70s with two classics, The French Connection, and The Exorcist. The former, a tale about the devil on the outside; the latter, about the devil inside. In this week’s Hidden Flick, there is a sinister combination of the two wrapped into one character played by ex-CSIer William Petersen.

To Live and Die in L.A. should have been a comeback film for Friedkin, and a breakout performance for Petersen, who was a Chicago stage actor at that time (and, actually, went back to that role before, during, and after, his stint on that popular television show), while the director was mired in films that didn’t seem to capture the popular Zeitgeist. And who really gives a shit? What is popular? What is a stupid German term like Zeitgeist but an excuse to whip out the Andy Warhol card that says ‘15 minutes of fame happening’?

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…

This week’s edition was not written by a Wolfman. He’ll deny it, but…

The Eight Legged Beast moves as one brain-twisted entity like a Group Mind flailing around in the dark until all is silent—terrified, befuddled, looped, and not alone in these sinister thoughts. Suddenly, a voice, a series of whispered voices, echo through the cavernous depths. A Wolfman jogs Loaded up ahead, a pied Piper has some worm-y legs, and a Ghost appears and disappears—run asunder by bad acid, or a sign near the cave entrance that reads: “Turn Back! Beware! This is the Beginning of the End!”

Meanwhile, I direct my eyes forward, and turn down the Brother from Another Planet. How can I feel stoned, high, drunk, and out in deep ecstatic space even though I’m clean?

Saw IT & Esther again, and a Sleeping Monkey with 8 legs & 4 heads eating 1 PHISH!

Ahhh…yes, Vegas. We were somewhere outside Lemonwheel when the chaos took hold. In the Court of the Crimson King as Big Red bends our collective noodles, I turn down:

Wolfman’s Brother> – 10/31/98 – and the LAST Halloween show until…

Yes, until now. I had no great need for the almighty Bug to Come. But here, HERE, I find it appropriate to nod at Halloween as we check out this week’s Hidden Flick, Eight Legged Freaks, and an homage to all that is unholy about old school horror cinema.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick – Eight Legged Freaks…

Watching 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back for the gazillionth time made me think about the golden years of animation, past and present. Frank Oz, puppeteer and future director, painstakingly created the original Yoda and helped move him within each scene, in the back-breaking old school way, making the classic fifth Star Wars film a rewarding trip. Yes, Lucasfilm later computer-generated the Jedi Master in the prequels and Clone Wars animated series, but it was Oz who first breathed life into the ancient peaceful warrior.

That, of course, would change. Why put your hand up a puppet’s ass if you can spin the light fantastic on a computer, creating whole new worlds like a Geek Demigod? Why, indeed. A few years after Empire, 1988 to be exact, along came a Japanese anime film that would become a classic in its own right. Akira, the manga-inspired gem, is still considered to be one of the elite of its genre, and it helped move cinema from a world of four-eyed dipshit cartoons into grand mythical landscapes with rich, legendary stories.

This week, we deal with a Hidden Flick within a trio of films. Memories, a 1995 anime compilation featured the work of Katsuhiro Otomo, the co-writer and director of Akira. The series of three films contains an anime masterpiece, and two lesser works that don’t hit the mark. The pearl is the initial film, Magnetic Rose; whereas the other two, Stink Bomb and Cannon Fodder, are visually intriguing, but not as artistically compelling.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…

One of my favorite bands was, is, and always shall be Pink Floyd if you haven’t noticed. And like the psychedelic pioneers of space rock, I never met an idea I couldn’t use more than once or thrice. So, here, this week, we present an amalgamation of several Hidden Flick thought patterns as we continue our thesis study on “What is Cinema?” Why are the alleged great films usually bores, while the weird flicks are the post-everything gems?

And yes…a mixture of patterns sleeping in the dirt outside the Hidden Theatre as we wait to get inside to start an evening of unexpected fun and heady pre-Halloween no-goodery. Press replay, repeat, and then play the new stuff, please (“thesis” is used in jest, brah).

Well…time for more popcorn, Red Vines, Raisinettes, and a refill of that 97-ounce soda. We take a break from our regular look at obscure films with another edition of Intermission, which means another look at a cinematic chestnut that may have been lauded or groundbreaking in the past, but has since been forgotten in history’s hourglass.

READ ON for more of this week’s installment of Hidden Flick…

In Quentin Tarantino’s World War II film Inglorious Basterds, Brad Pitt’s character wears the patch of a very special unit on his uniform. This unit is discussed and amplified in a much older film, and here is where we detail their history to a certain degree. It was the little American film that could. Placed at an inopportune time in the middle of the release schedule during the slow-rising anti-Vietnam war era of 1968, the slab of very old school celluloid still resonates with a…well, devil-may-care leer and assault.

Neither revolutionary, nor profoundly artistic, the film contains bits of hidden truths that are often forgotten, but not for very long. One of those is the little slice of wisdom stating that the universe is built upon a specific template, and progress is sometimes motivated by the actions of one’s polar opposite. And so we turn to this week’s Hidden Flick, a World War II film released in that anarchist flashpoint year, 1968, The Devil’s Brigade.

Based on a true story of the 1st Special Service Force, a unit essentially featuring the most misfit-laden, criminally-inclined, and dubious gang of rat bastards this side of either Attica, or San Quentin, depending upon which side of the switchblade one lives. At the beginning of the story, the outstanding American actor and iconic anti-hero William Holden is a Lt. Colonel assigned to an isolated outpost in the middle of Swinging Dick, Nowhere (Fort William Henry Harrison in Helena, Montana). The fort will serve as a makeshift training camp to a new squadron being prepared to fight in European campaigns in WWII. Yeah, good luck with that, Bill.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…