LifeForce

Steve Railsback, an actor who starred in the 1985 science fiction classic LifeForce (a "classic"apparently being any film that is over 20 years old, since this incomprehensible piece of crap had no other qualities which one might use to apply such an honorific) which I saw last Friday with Jonny Award winner Jesse Merlin and his entourage. Mr. Railsback portrayed Colonel Tom Carlsen, an American astronaut in charge of a joint English/American space mission (England being internationally renowned for its space program) who discovers a coven of extraterrestrial vampires lodged at the head of Haley's comet. Tragically, the celestial nosferatus are hell bent on sucking the "lifeforce"out of everybody living on good old Earth so that they can maintain their smokin' hot good looks and massive, gravity-defying tits for all eternity. Colonel Carlsen has no guilt issues over unleashing the vampires unto our planet because he is in love with the head vampire (who is, coincidentally, a 19 year old chick with perfect boobs who spends most of the movie running around buck naked, which makes his role in the destruction of his entire species slightly less of an ethical dilemma). Nevertheless, he agrees to team up with an English colonel (played by Peter Firth, who portrayed the troubled youth in Equus and apparently had all his acting talent trampled on and killed by the horses in that film) by giving suspects massive injections of some kind of a drug that a hospital orderly told them was truth serum and slapping around a few chicks. Colonel Carlsen continues to seek out the naked vampire (including a really weird scene where he tries to French kiss Patrick Stewart in the belief that his body is possessed by her) before he and his tough-but-wooden cohort track her down in a cathedral where Colonel Carlsen is finally able to put an end to the carnage which has been devastating humanity, but not before getting in one last fuck.

Following the screening, Mr. Railsback came onstage and took part in a Q&A in which he shared his memories of making LifeForce. The narrative he spun was so vibrant that it seemed like he had shot the film only last week, assuming that he spent last week high out of his mind on hallucinogenics. In the end he wasn't able to shed much light on the making of the movie except to recall that each and every individual connected with it (from director Tobe Hooper to the assistant caterer) was "incredible" and "a genius," and occasionally mutter a mildly amusing half-told anecdote, only to cut himself off after pondering that he didn't know why he thought it was so funny. The one tidbit of interest that he did share was when he insisted that he did not endure an erection while performing his sex scenes with Mathilda May, the actress who played the naked space vampire (although I did; the only aspect of the screening I really enjoyed). To change the subject, Mr. Railsback began giving an account of his career, for which he is most well-known for playing roles like Charles Manson and Ed Gein (the real-life inspiration for Norman Bates) and after only a few stories, it became apparent to me that Mr. Railsback is far more disturbing than Charles Manson and Ed Gein combined. I beat a hasty retreat out of the theatre with only a mild appreciation for the artistry of LifeForce, but with an eternal gratitude for the erection I endured while looking at a naked Mathilda May. I was so erotically keyed up that I only wish Patrick Stewart had been around to French kiss.

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Enemies List favorite Mara Marini, who has been vacationing in Hawaii this week and giddily posted "A local jumped on my board and took me on an Hawaiian adventure! So nice!" I fail to understand why she considers a chiseled beach bum waylaying her conveyance and transporting her to unknown parts is "nice" but when I do it, she chooses to get the police involved. Granted, Island Joe jumped on her surfboard and redirected it to some corner of the tropical paradise hitherto unseen by human eyes whereas I hijacked her pink Miata and drove her to a cabin I rented in the woods for reasons that the court agreed I don't have to disclose provided that I stay at least 500 yards away from Ms. Marini for the next five years. The point is that there's clearly a double standard going on here and if I looked as good in a Speedo as Mr. Margueritaville, I'd be getting flattering captions written about me on Instagram instead of having to report to a parole officer twice a month.

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Stephanie Fredricks, Amy Ball and Misty LaRue. I occasionally try to brighten the day of my acquaintances on the Social Network by using my genius with PhotoShop to depict them in guises associated with me and then posting them as my Facebook Cover Image, thereby giving the flotsam and jetsam with whom I cyber-associate a veneer of respectability. Such was the case this week when I created the Team Jonny cheerleading squad and populated it with annoying yentas Amy Ball, Jeebus Burbano, Misty LaRue and the afore-mentioned Ms. Fredricks (as well as Enemies List favorite Mara Marini, who falls short of being a true yenta but who I continue to suck up to for reasons that can be found in any high school textbook on human sexuality). I was expecting my little image to be greeted with flattered cackles of delight, but was instead bitched at by Ms. Fredricks with "Ugh. Who put me on the losing team?" At first I was offended to have my efforts so demeaned, until later in the day when Ms. Ball and Ms. LaRue piped in with their own comments of "Gimme an F!" and "Gimme a U!"I determined Ms. Fredricks with right; I had depicted a bunch of losers. So I spent hours working and reworking the picture until I finally deleted Ms. Fredicks, Ms. Ball and Ms. LaRue and replaced them with the faces of Playboy centerfolds. Then, what was a gaggle of depressing also-rans suddenly became triumphant champions. In truth, we still wound up losing all our games after we had to forfeit them because we never left the locker room showers. But that's a win in my book.

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The Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Awards, an honor given by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences to an "individual in the motion picture industry whose humanitarian efforts have brought credit to the industry." But this isn't who the award celebrates at all because no assistant director or grip who spends their off-hours tirelessly working for human rights or a cure for some heinous disease would even be considered as the recipient. The Hersholt Award is for a rich, ûber-powerful executive or world-famous celebrity who lends their wealth and fame to some pet charity, with this year's recipient being superstar AIDS baby advocate Angelina Jolie. It's hard for me to take it seriously when the Academy pats the rich and famous on their already well-patted backs by giving out a Best Humanitarian award the same evening that they announce the winners for Best Sound Editing and Best Documentary Short Subject. Jean Hersholt, the man who the award is named after, was an obscure character actor (best remembered for playing Shirley Temple's grandfather in Heidi) who founded the Motion Picture Relief Fund and served as president of the Motion Picture Academy. Ironically, today Mr. Hersholt probably wouldn't even be considered as a recipient for the award that bears his name since his career didn't quite have the Q rating that the Oscars like to see in their humanitarians. If only Leonardo DiCaprio had a cause.