Mel Brooks'gloriously tasteless 1965 comedy, with Zero Mostel's shabby producer and Gene Wilder's timid accountant hatching a plan to make a fortune from a sure-fire Broadway flop, Springtime For Hitler. Brooks' play-within-a-film structure is fiendishly clever, while Kenneth Mars' bug-eyed, paranoid Nazi playwright and Dick Shawn's way-out hippie Hitler steal the show. Superb.
Fifth solo outing for fiftysomething Nashville maestro MILLER'S MORE ILLUSTRIOUS work as guitarist/musical director with Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle has sometimes put his solo output in the shade. A pity, because there's much to discover in the Ohio native's back pages. Earle swears he's "the best country singer working today", while Robbie Fulks calls him country's only living auteur.
Leaving aside for a moment the issue of whether an unshown TV special from '68 could capture, as the opening credits suggest, "the spontaneity, aspirations and communal spirit of an entire era" any more accurately than, say, Catweazle or Do Not Adjust Your Set, and regardless of whether you think Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed are the fulcrum points of a generation or just something that music critics of a certain age should learn to get over, the portents of this cryogenically preserved moment in rock time are undeniable. Look!
TARANTINO RECENTLY suggested Scorsese's best days are behind him. Kundun, Bringing Out The Dead, Gangs Of New York—it's not just that these movies struggled to connect with audiences, Scorsese himself seemed unable to get a firm grasp on them. Is this still 'the greatest living American film-maker'? At least this long-overdue three-film box set reminds us how he earned that title. Check out his 1969 debut, Who's That Knocking At My Door?
This deeply schizophrenic teen vampire movie classic from Joel Schumacher has dark ambitions, not least in its child-murder subtext and blood-red lighting hues from Raging Bull cinematographer Michael Chapman. But too often it's railroaded by Schumacher's baser window-dresser's instincts, and ends up like a goth Goonies on acid.
So, the greatest album never made has finally been made. Thirty-eight years on from its conception, Brian Wilson has painstakingly gathered up all the shattered mosaic pieces, and with the help of the best little tribute ensemble in the world, The Wondermints, has produced a reasonably faithful facsimile of the bold, ambitious masterpiece that nearly cost him his sanity back in 1967. The resulting work, rigorously road-tested during this year's tour dates, is a 17-track song suite in three movements which clocks in at a second over 47 minutes.
