Posts Tagged ‘Groupie Girl’

Secret Rites: witchcraft night at BFI Flipside

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

Shortly after I’d settled into my seat at BFI Screen 1 for the Flipside Halloween shindig, a ‘real-life witch’ came and sat next to me. I figured this woman was a Wiccan because she looked completely out of place among hordes of trash film fans. A few minutes later Geraldine Beskin from the Atlantis Bookshop joined her. Among many other things, I overheard the pagan immediately to my left make the following observation to her occult book dealing friend:

“A lot of people said they would have come any other night of the year but not tonight because they need to be alone to communicate with the spirits. It’s a shame. I’ll get my brazier out when I get home and I’ll still have plenty of time to see who’s running about…”

Eventually, Flipside’s mainstays Vic Pratt and Will Fowler did their comedy act. After this short introduction, it was straight into the films, starting with a ten minutes segment about witches from a BBC programme called Twenty-Four Hours. In this, Bernard Falk introduced Alex and Maxine Sanders in sky-clad action (i.e. ritual nudity) with their coven. Sanders was treated as a comedy item in this 1970 production and deadpan observations along the lines of him being ‘a former chemical worker from Chorlton in Manchester’ got plenty of laughs. At the time this was made, Sanders had perfected a piercing stare but otherwise appears somewhat lacking in the necessary charisma to be a really successful cult leader.

Next was a 25 minute TV programme from 1957 directed by Geoffrey Hughes entitled Out of Step: Witchcraft. This was presented by Daniel Farson, a Soho drinking legend in his own ‘rite’ (oops, I mean ‘right’)… as well as a TV personality of yesteryear, and an almost iconic gay figure to boot. First up, he interviewed an elderly Margaret Murray, whose unreliable and extremely far-fetched book The Witch Cult In Western Europe (1921) is the source of much modern paganism. She was followed by the hugely entertaining Gerald Gardner, whose bulging eyes and maniacal laugh when asked in a slightly veiled manner about nudity at his Wiccan ceremonies, were particularly pleasing. It was, of course, Gardner and his circle who synthesised Murray’s highly speculative claims with rituals cribbed from Aleister Crowley and freemasonry (and a few other things, including Gardner’s business and leisure interests in nudism) to create witchcraft as we know it today. Thus there is no reason to give any credence to the spurious assertions of modern witches – including Gardner and Alex Sanders – that their practices are the continuation of a pre-Christian tradition. The last of Farson’s interviewees was the writer Louis Wilkinson (AKA Louis Marlow), who was presented as a relatively sensible secular friend of Aleister Crowley with little sympathy for occult ritual or belief, but a deep personal knowledge of its most famous practitioner.

However, the highlight of the night was undoubtedly the screening of Derek Ford’s mockumentary Secret Rites (1971). The print from the BFI archives runs to 47 minutes, and while there are rumours of a longer cut, I have no idea whether a feature length version of the film actually exists. Ford is probably best known as the director of ultra-low budget British sexploitation flicks such as Groupie Girl (1970) and The Wife Swappers (1970): and while I love scenes in both these movies, they would definitely have benefited from being trimmed in terms of running time. In Secret Rites, Ford appears to have teamed Sanders up with some professional actresses, put them on a movie set (in Film House Studios) and run them through cinematic variations on some spurious Wiccan rites. As long as you are happy to accept everything is utterly fake, and Alex Sanders is the biggest flake of them all, then Secret Rites is a groove sensation (including the assertion at the end of the film that what you have just seen is completely ‘authentic’). As the rites get going and the robes come off, we are treated to some particularly trippy mirror distortions and a glorious soundtrack of psychedelic funk from the Spindle (as well as possibly the worst faked orgasm ever committed to celluloid). If you liked Luigi Batzella’s Nude For Satan, and I know I did, then you’ll love Secret Rites!

For the record, the credited ‘coven’ consists of Jane Spearing, Penny Beeching, Shirley Harmer, Tony Barton and Wendy Tomlinson. The narration is handled by Lee Peters – whose other credits include appearances in Michael Reeves’s Witchfinder General (1968) and the English TV series Dixon of Dock Green. I suspect that Penny Beeching is the early-seventies starlet of that name who can be seen in various episodes of Up Pompeii and The Morecambe and Wise Show. If anyone can pin this down for me, I’d appreciate it if they can add their information to the comments section below. The intonation of some of the ‘coven’, not to mention their suntanned breasts, certainly suggest to me that they are more likely to be actresses or models than ‘real-life witches’.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

What Can It All Mean?

Sunday, April 5th, 2009

I was playing a bunch of old records today, and wondering why I don’t hear so many new ones that really groove me. The thing that really got me going on this was the Steinski double CD retrospective What Does It All Mean? on the Illegal Art label. Back in the day I had a 12 inch white label of The Lessons, and I particularly love Lesson 3 coz of the way it’s build around Herman Kelly’s Let’s Dance To The Drummer’s Beat. These days The Lessons don’t sound quite as hot as they once did, possibly due to this near legitimate CD release – but they still shake the walls a lot harder than the recent radio mix on the second disk. Don’t get me wrong, Nothing To Fear the Steinski DJ set is a toe-tapping groove but it ain’t The Lessons.

From Steinski I moved on to Beat Dis by Bomb The Bass, which cranked up still sounds like a real mother for ya! I’ll be playing Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson latter. From Beat Dis I moved along to Rebel MC. I loved Street Tough when it came out, and Michael West just got better year after year. Since I’d got onto a London trip, I stuck on Walk & Skank by Jah Screechy, and next I couldn’t resist playing the greatest Slade cover of all time, Mama We’re All Crazee Now by Denzil Dennis, which led to Johnny Reggae by the Piglets.

I recently said by way of reply to a comment on my blog about the Stanley Long film(s) Screamtime: “And when is some clever record company gonna click onto the idea of doing a CD (maybe double CD) of Long soundtracks? Bread and Groupie Girl have plenty of good tunes, not to mention the theme songs from the Aventure series – mind you the one Adrienne Posta sings would work well on a best of compilation of her tunes, she’s brilliant on non-Long stuff like Johnny Reggae too!”

And from a Jonathan King production it was just a short step to playing Hot Butter by Popcorn, then I was spinning If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot, Cherry Cherry by Neil Diamond, The Pushbike Song by The Mixtures, and merrily singing along to Lobo’s Me & You & A Dog Named Boo. Next I put on the first Damned album and that sounded pretty good too…. I don’t have a copy of the follow up Music For Pleasure, and I don’t rate it very highly although Lol Coxhill appears on it. Which got me thinking about how I heard this free jazz saxophonist playing in The Foundry last week, just a few weeks after I’d booked him to play the South London Gallery, and that I first caught him live 32 years ago onstage with The Damned! And he still sounds great!

What I’m getting at here is that I don’t get as excited by new records as I do by old tunes. I still hear good new tracks but they don’t send me like the rhythms of yesteryear… The last ‘new’ musicians to really excite me were minimal techno acts like Plastikman and Panasonic, but for the past ten years there has been nothing that has really got me going in the same way. So is contemporary music losing its edge? I don’t mean indie wank, which was always rubbish, I mean chart records and dance tunes. Obviously part of the problem is the older you get the more you’ve heard, so nothing is gonna have the same effect on me as when I first heard You Can’t Sit Down by The Phil Upchurch Combo when I was 12 years-old (more than a decade after it was recorded) or Get It On by T. Rex when I was 9 (when it hit the charts).

Asked the other day what I’d like in terms of entertainment at an event to promote the Semina series of books I’m editing, I said The Flirtations – who these days are based in London and advertise themselves as for hire. Turns out they cost three thousand quid for an hour show, which is way beyond our budget, so as compensation I’ve got the b-side/album track How Can You Tell Me? blasting out right now. I was just reading back through this blog before posting and now I’m onto Once I Had A Love on the Sounds Like The Flirtations album, and that is just such a groove too! I still go nuts for music but the new stuff ain’t doing it for me no more… why?

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!

X-Rated: Adventures of an exploitation filmmaker

Sunday, March 22nd, 2009

This is the autobiography of British exploitation legend Stanley Long, London’s answer to Russ Meyer, as ghosted by by Simon Sheridan.  Long started out as a photographer, then moved onto stag films for the 8mm home market, before making a couple of non-sex documentary shorts in the late 1950s. However, it was his nudie cuties Nudist Memories (1958), Nudes Of The World (1961) and Take Off Your Clothes And Live (1963) that first made him into a figure that anyone with more than a passing interest in cinema would want to check out. Long went on to make a very notable trilogy of mondo films: West End Jungle (1960), London In The Raw (1964) and Primitive London (1965), which take in both a series of night clubs and the commercial sex scene in Europe’s leading city. A good deal of the footage is faked, but these flicks are nonetheless crucial documents of London in the early to mid-sixties. Long is only listed as cinematographer and producer, but claims he was effectively their director; and that his business partner of the time – Arnold L. Miller – who took the main credit, had only a nominal role in the creation of these trash classics. Long certainly has plenty of interest to say about them. I’ll quote some blurb about West End Jungle to set the tone : “A journey into the dark heart of London, filmed in the actual places of vice…. West End Jungle offers the definitive insight into the seedy reality and cunning artifice of the sex workers of early 60s Soho.” (That’s from the sleeve of the recent DVD rather than Long’s autobiography).

Long’s first big successes were a couple of late mondo movies he made after splitting from Miller: The Wife Swappers (1969) and Naughty! (1971). The former is a series of vignettes about wife swapping, while the latter deals with pornography. In his book, Long details how he developed these projects without ever getting bogged down in boring detail. Less satisfactory are the accounts of the films from around the same time that were directed by his business partner of that era, Derek Ford. Movies like Groupie Girl (1969) simply aren’t as good as the more strictly documentary-style material over which Long appears to have exercised far greater control. X-Rated fails to make the point that Ford’s more fictional efforts are markedly inferior to the faked documentaries at which Long excelled.

Likewise, while the slightly later film Eskimo Nell (1974) is fun, Long talks it up rather too much. It isn’t nearly as good as the series that followed on from it: Adventures of a Taxi Driver (1975), Adventures of a Private Eye (1977) and Adventures of a Plumber’s Mate (1978). Long makes no bones about the fact that these films were a knock-off of the hugely successful Confessions comedies staring Robin Askwith. Personally I prefer the Adventure flicks, they show lots of London locations as I remember them from back in the day; Long didn’t have a big enough budget to hire a film studio. However, the section of Long’s autobiography covering these movies was a slight disappointment to me because I’d already heard most of the stories he relates on the commentaries he recorded for their DVD reissue. That said, Long very honestly admits that Private Eye is the weakest movie in the Adventures trilogy. With that one he moved away from blue collar jobs that lent themselves to picaresque narration. The strength of these films lies is their visual comedy, but the best scene in Private Eye takes place in a hostess club, and hinges on a series of verbal misunderstandings. Fred Emmey believes he is buying the services of a high class call girl, but this is actually Christopher Neil in drag, playing a private dick who is trying to purchase blackmail photographs from the wrong man.

Earlier on in his book, Long  provides some cool insights into a couple of cult film-makers via his work as a cinematographer on both Repulsion (directed by Roman Polanski) and The Sorcerers (directed by Michael Reeves). Unfortunately, towards the end he tails off into a snore-fest of anecdotes about John Mills. Since Long surely knows he is far more interesting than a luvvie like Mills, I assume he ends his autobiography on this show-biz note in the hope of flogging a few extra copies to celebrity obsessives (one should not be surprised by this, it goes with his background as an exploitation film-maker). Despite the disappointing ending, X-Rated is still a fun read and useful source book on British exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s.

And while you’re at it don’t forget to check – www.stewarthomesociety.org – you know it makes (no) sense!