…to the Road to Hell: Interview with Cynthia Curnan

Posted on September 11, 2008 by Alex in Albert Pyun, Cynthia Curnan, Michael Pare, Road to Hell, Streets of Fire | Leave a comment

A couple of days ago, I blogged about my affection for the 1984 film Streets of Fire, and my excitement at learning a follow-up, Road to Hell, was in the works. While Road isn’t an official sequel (the makers term it a “dark tribute”), it does have Michael Pare’ back in that duster, and promises a unique riff on the original.

Screenwriter Cynthia Curnan was kind enough to speak to me about the project, and patiently endured my endless fanboy speculation.

Alex: The film Streets of Fire took its title from a Bruce Springsteen song. Does Road to Hell reference the Chris Rea tune?

Cynthia: I had not heard Chris Rea’s song until reading your question. I told Albert [Pyun, director]; he knew of the song but hadn’t heard it either. We just looked it up on YouTube and we both love it.

You brought back the characters of McCoy, Tom’s sister and Ellen. Why not Raven as well?

The Road to Hell characters are their own people; they are not resurrected from Streets of Fire. Viewers expecting this will be disappointed. That said, when you see the movie you might notice a small indication of a family tie.

You mention on the official website that “Albert thinks it (Streets of Fire) is the most romantic film ending ever. I thought the ending was tragic and wanted them to get together.” I confess I share Albert’s view, especially in context: to me the climactic song, “Tonight is What It Means to be Young,” comments ironically on Cody, who seems doomed to be stuck in perpetual adolescence. After all, Ellen was willing to give up her career and run off with him, but he “ain’t the kind of guy to be carrying your guitars around.” How do you read the original film’s climax, and how did that give you a jumping-off point for Road to Hell?

This difference of opinion about the ending to Streets of Fire might just be a guy/girl thing. It was a tragedy for me because star-crossed love causes me pain. But I did understand why they could never get together. That said, I saw both of their futures, without each other, as ultimately tragic.

In the song “Tonight is What it Means to be Young,” Ellen heads straight for the next best thing. If she can’t get an angel she can still get a boy and a boy is the next best thing. I see Cody as an angel, not from Ellen’s world. My Cody is not a ‘Peter Pan’ boy; he’s larger than life. Cody came arrived on an empty subway because he came from another dimension to which he must return.

As much as he might want to stay with her he knows he can’t. She was willing to give up her career because she didn’t yet know what that would mean to her or to them. He knows Ellen’s situation better than she does. She has stardom in her future and if he tried to fit in, carrying her guitars is all he’d be doing. He knows it’s too soon for her to know what she wants; he can’t let her make a deal neither of them could live with. But if she ever needs him, he’ll be there.

I think you underestimate Tom Cody; at least my Cody. Back to the guy/girl thing: Maybe I fell in love with Cody and you fell in love with Ellen?

You’ve got two new characters described as “spree killers.” Can you describe them and how they fit into this world?

Road to Hell takes place in its own world. The spree killers fit in that world.

Finally, I’m a huge fan of Michael Pare’, and according to the website this film sprang from a conversation you and Albert had with him. Was he involved in the writing process at all? How did he feel about the way you saw the character a quarter-century on?

Michael Pare’ was not involved in the writing process but he was involved in the character development. He understood that Albert wanted to see him return to his iconic roots with characters like Eddie [from Eddie and The Cruisers] and Tom Cody in a story reminiscent of early noir thrillers.

Michael Pare’s performance is astonishing – much darker, more nuanced and mature than Tom Cody’s character from Streets of Fire. He’s less pretty, more handsome and sexier because he’s more dangerous.

***

Thanks to Cynthia Curnan for taking the time to talk to me. Road to Hell is currently in post-production with the release date to be determined.

Interviewed with other reviewers from Guys Lit Wire

Posted on September 10, 2008 by Alex in blogs, Guys Lit Wire, interview | Leave a comment

Over at Innovative: A Word for the WriTeen, I’m interviewed along with some of the other ace reviewers from Guys Lit Wire.

http://innovativeteen.blogspot.com/2008/09/behind-blog-guys-lit-wire.html

Stop by and leave Gabrielle a comment!

From Streets of Fire….

Posted on September 8, 2008 by Alex in Albert Pyun, Cynthia Curnan, Jim Steinman, Michael Pare, Road to Hell, Streets of Fire, Walter Hill | 1 Comment

In 1984, director Walter Hill was riding high on four successes in a row: The Warriors, The Long Riders, Southern Comfort and the mega-hit 48 Hours. Having earned carte blanche, he used it to create a strange, one-of-a-kind pet project that blended genres, eras, and musical styles in what he termed a “rock and roll fable,” Streets of Fire. His high concept description: “The Leader of the Pack kidnaps the Queen of the Hop, until Soldier Boy comes to the rescue.”

And how did it do?

It tanked. Man, did it tank. Produced on a then-hefty budget of $14 million, it took in a paltry $5 million at the box office. It confused critics and audiences alike. I saw it during its theatrical run, and could feel the audience around me having a collective WTF moment.

I loved it. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. I mean, hell:

it’s a musical….

…with a sledgehammer duel.

Here’s the trailer:

And time has been kind to it. Whereas in 1984 the contemporary influences (clothes, hairstyles and music) jarred against the Fifties retro elements, they now blend seamlessly; after all, twenty-five years and sixty years both qualify as “old.” The main musical numbers by Jim Steinman, of Meat Loaf and “Total Eclipse of the Heart” fame, now sound bombastically timeless instead of crassly contemporary. Ry Cooder’s buzzing guitar score, sadly unreleased to this day with the exception of one track on a compilation, rocks harder than any comparable soundtrack. And the film has acquired an all-star cast: subsequent Oscar nominees Diane Lane, Amy Madigan and Willem Dafoe, as well as Rick (Ghostbusters) Moranis and Bill (Titanic) Paxton.

More crucially, even nearly a quarter of a century later, the film remains unique. Nothing else has come close to this combination of music, action and filmmaking style, which doesn’t so much embrace MTV cliches as sidestep them and approach the same sort of material as if from a parellel universe. In fact, to my knowledge no one has even tried.

Until now.

Director Albert Pyun and screenwriter Cynthia Curnan are putting the finishing touches on Road to Hell, what they term a “dark tribute” to Streets of Fire. Only Michael Pare and Debra Van Valkenburgh return from the original cast, but the other main characters (sidekick McCoy and rocker Ellen) are back, played by new actors. Jim Steinman songs will again be featured. And while it’s not an “official” sequel, it’s as close as we’re likely to get, and more than enough reason for Streets of Fire fans to get excited.

Click on the links to read exclusive interviews with Road to Hell screenwriter Cynthia Curnan and director Albert Pyun.

"I see you marrying a corpse…living in a grave…!"

Posted on August 24, 2008 by Alex in Dracula, Son of Dracula, Universal Horror Films, vampires | 1 Comment

As we near the April 2009 release date of my vampire novel Blood Groove, I’ll periodically discuss favorite vampire-themed books and movies, looking at what makes them special.

It’s not every movie that can overcome the total miscasting of its titular character, let alone a title that is completely misleading. Yet 1943′s Son of Dracula, starring Lon Chaney, Jr., does exactly that. Not only does the beefy roughneck Chaney attempt the role of the sophisticated Eastern European count, but there is no “son”: the story features Dracula himself. But if you can look past these shortcomings, a surprisingly easy thing to do, there are some real treats in this second-tier Universal film.

Dracula arrives at Dark Oaks, a plantation somewhere in American’s Deep South where no one has an actual Southern accent. Since he’s apparently a well-known fiend, he calls himself Count Alucard (the first use, I believe, of this popular hiding-in-plain-sight anagram). He has been brought back as a souvenir by Kay (Louise Albritton), an American tourist and proto-Goth just returned from Hungary.

Kay’s nefarious but ingenious plan: have Dracula turn her into a vampire so that she can then vampirize her childhood sweetheart Frank (Robert Paige); together they can kill Dracula and live forever. But she neglects to let Frank in on her plot, which leads to misunderstandings and apparent murder.

It’s hard to imagine an actor less suited to Dracula than Chaney. Thick-necked and with the diction of a factory worker, he looks out of place and uncomfortable in Dracula’s dinner suit. Luckily the film keeps him mostly off-screen and builds its story around the gradual freak-out of hero Frank Stanley. Frank begins the film as a standard dishwater-dull young male lead, but as things go to hell, he goes to pieces. Albritton makes a deliciously strange heroine, and as her chilling plan emerges she becomes far scarier than Dracula. Still, I defy anyone to really watch the film and not get a twinge of heartbreak at the abrupt but poetic ending.

What makes this film exceptional, and different from all the other Universal Dracula films, is that ultimately Dracula is as much a victim as anyone else. In effect he’s outsmarted by one of his own brides, and part of me wishes the film had him join forces with the other mortals against Kay. But that wasn’t the story the Siodmak brothers (director Robert and screenwriter Curt) chose to tell; instead they remained in the realm of fairy tales, telling an Orpheus-istic story about love that transcends, for a while, the grave.

The trailer:

Soon I’ll Be Stuffed in Your Mailbox

Posted on August 21, 2008 by Alex in advertising, Lemery House, Readings | 3 Comments

This postcard will be going out from the cool-as-heck folks at the Lemery House to promote an upcoming reading. I’ve never been the subject of a direct-mail campaign before.

Gateway Characters (in Hell or Alaska)

Posted on August 18, 2008 by Alex in gateway characters, Hellboy, Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, Myers, Northern Exposure, Rob Morrow, storytelling | 1 Comment

Lately the mater familias and I have been watching Northern Exposure, a show I caught only haphazardly during its network run in the early 90s. At the time I much preferred the grittier fantasmagoria of Twin Peaks to the bucolic magical realism of Northern Exposure; as I’ve mellowed (i.e., gotten older), though, I find that Northern Exposure (hereafter referred to as NX) has a charm and depth I completely missed before. But it developed a fatal flaw, one I also recently encountered in the otherwise-brilliant Hellboy 2: The Golden Army.

NX shows us the quirky citizens of Cicely, Alaska through the eyes of Joel Fleischman (Rob Morrow), a newly-minted Jewish doctor from New York. He is completely at odds with everything Cicely represents, and isn’t afraid to say so. The show’s effect comes from the clash between Fleischman’s Woody Allen-ish nebbish and the unflappable folks around him, especially tomboy pilot Maggie O’Connell (Janine Turner), who verbally gives as good as she gets.

In the final episode of Season 3 (“Cicely”), we learn about the founding of the town itself from a century-old eyewitness (the great Roberts Blossom). It’s a brilliant episode on a number of levels, and ends with Joel alone in the local bar, hearing these voices of the past and taking his first big step toward assimilation. It promised great things for future episodes.

Unfortunately, by the start of Season 4 Rob Morrow ran into difficulties with the show and his role in it. As a result, Joel’s importance was significantly minimized, and the momentum built up during Season 3 was completely lost. Worse, the show itself floundered because without Joel as the pivot, the other characters became a group of people who were merely quirky for the sake of being quirky. Some fans insist the show changed organically from being about Joel’s situation to being about the town itself, but what made the show compelling was the tension between Joel and the residents of Cicely. Without it, the show lost its rudder and the viewer lost his or her guide.

Now we jump to Hellboy. In the original 2004 film, Rupert Evans played Myers, a normal, straight-arrow FBI agent assigned to be the liason between Hellboy and the rest of the world. Myers’ responses to the characters and situations gave the viewer something normal to hang onto amidst the weirdness, in the tradition of many other SF and Fantasy stories (one reason Luke Skywalker was made a simple farmboy). As Myers warmed to Hellboy we did, too, and as he kept faith in Hellboy’s essential goodness, we did as well.

In Hellboy 2: The Golden Army, we have no Myers (he’s been transferred to Antarctica) or, more crucially, no Myers-type figure. Everyone in the story is a monster or creature of some sort (Jeffery Tambor’s Manning is human, but so clearly comic that he can’t take on the gateway role). As before Ron Perlman makes Hellboy into a likable blue-collar schmo, and the other performers bring emotion and heart to their creature-feature characters. But it’s all a little disorienting without a Myers to guide our responses. We’re not immediately sure which monsters should be considered outlandish and which ones commonplace.

There are still many great things in Hellboy 2 and the later seasons of NX. But with the loss or minimizing of these gateway characters, we’ve lost our way into these worlds. I miss Joel, even though he’s technically still around for Seasons 4 and 5, and I hope Myers gets back from Antarctica in time for Hellboy 3.

Possibly the best review I’ll ever get

Posted on August 11, 2008 by Alex in blogs, reviews, Sword-Edged Blonde | 2 Comments

A special belated shout-out to gladiolii, whose blog post discussing my novel The Sword-Edged Blonde contains what may be the best review I’ll ever get:

“The main character is cooler than I’d have expected, for an old guy.”

Thanks, Kit, and I hope you like the next one as much.

Heroes: the Dragon Hunter

Posted on August 3, 2008 by Alex in China, Dinosaurs, heroes, Roy Chapman Andrews | 2 Comments

I don’t have a lot of real-world heroes as an adult. There are people whose work I admire, and whose accomplishments I find impressive, but for me a hero is about being as much as doing. The late Steve Irwin and Charlton Heston were heroes; among the living, Bruce Springsteen and George A. Romero currently qualify.

But no one is a hero the way they are when you’re a kid. I grew up before the new wave of historical revisionism that provided much needed context for the allegedly “heroic” deeds of our forefathers. Back then, Columbus was a great explorer and Andrew Jackson was a brilliant leader; their genocidal crimes against native populations were considered the cost of doing business and never mentioned. But one of my childhood heroes survived this sea change in how explorers and leaders were judged, and remains one of my heroes both for his accomplishments, and for the kind of man he was: Roy Chapman Andrews. And a recent (2001) book does a great job explaining why.

In Dragon Hunter : Roy Chapman Andrews and the Central Asiatic Expeditions, Charles Gallenkamp tells of Andrews’ trips into the Gobi Desert of China in 1922-1930, leading expeditions in search of fossils and other scientific information. Among the many significant discoveries were the first confirmed fossilized dinosaur eggs. At the time, it was the equivalent of the moon landing in popular culture, and everyone knew of Andrews and his work:

Half a century later, his desert-traipsing bravado, encyclopedic knowledge and snappy headwear helped inspire one of the great movie heroes, Indiana Jones.

What Dragon Hunter explains, though, is how much real courage and resourcefulness Andrews demonstrated behind the scenes, negotiating with the Chinese government both before and after the encrouchment of Communism. Andrews, a native of Beloit, WI, adored Asia, learned its languages and customs, and had nothing but contempt for both the desert warlords and the later Communist bureaucrats. He saw both as exploiters of China’s people and resources. He also compiled one of the first comprehensive studies of the world’s whales, functioned as a spy for the U.S. during World War I, was president of the famous Explorers’ Club, and found time to write books both for adults and children.

I owned All About Dinosaurs, written in 1953, when I was a child in the early Seventies. Chapman described his Mongolian expeditions in simple, exciting terms, concentrating on the battles with the elements and the discovery of huge numbers of fossils. There were no politics, only the hands-on wonders of exploration. It crystallized my love of dinosaurs, even though at the time its science was already fifteen years out of date. Under its spell, I wrote to Andrews at the Museum of Natural History, and experienced the kind of disappointment only a child can feel when the letter was returned marked DECEASED (Andrews died in 1960).

Andrews was not without flaws; he was, after all, a real person. But he stayed true to his principals until the end of his life, by all accounts tried to always do the right thing, and enjoyed both the respect and envy that only true pioneers can inspire. More importantly, he inspired others to follow in his footsteps. Now that I’m facing middle age in a world where heroes are in shockingly short supply, it’s nice to be reminded of someone like Andrews. He did his job, remained a decent human being and, in his own way, changed the world.

Less Than Meets the Eye

Posted on July 28, 2008 by Alex in children, evil, marketing, toys, Transformers | 1 Comment

Recently a friend mentioned that she loved the Transformers movie, and I said I disagreed. When she pressed me for an explanation I demurred, for a couple of reasons: I wanted to marshal my thoughts with more clarity, and I didn’t want to sully an otherwise delightful group lunch with what could easily become a semi-coherent rant.

But yes, I hated the Transformers movie. It goes beyond my dislike for director Michael Bay, who is only Uwe Boll with a megabudget. It’s more than my dislike for the charmless, gormless Shia LeBeouf. As pretentious and snotty as this may sound, I hate the Transformers on moral grounds.

Here’s why. The original Transformers were Japanese toys first.

Then the animated U.S. show was created around them. That made the program essentially a commercial aimed at the members of our society most vulnerable to advertising, children. And, since it debuted in the ultra-materialistic Eighties, it was a huge success, paving the way for many Japanese shows designed strictly to sell tie-in products (Pokemon, Digimon, Cardcaptors, etc.).

Consider why this is wrong. There has always been tie-in merchandise connected to popular art, going back, I believe, to Dickens, who called it the “Whoosh.” But the merchandise always came after. Something hit the public consciousness and then was exploited, often far beyond the line of tacky. Just look at the things Lucas has licensed for Star Wars over the last thirty years. Yet Star Wars came first, then the toys and bedsheets. Transformers cynically reversed that, and then took aim at kids far too young to know their chains were being yanked. In the process, it altered the whole concept of childrens’ programming, which up until then at least had to pay lip service to the concept of educating its viewers.

Creating what is essentially a half-hour toy commercial, then disguising it as a “tv show” aimed at the least discriminating audience demographic, is a form of societal child abuse. Parents aren’t blameless in this–after all, they paid for the toys. But it inculcated a whole generation with the idea that nothing of value exists if it isn’t accompanied by a parade of merchandise. The experience of enjoying something on its own has been subsumed in the desire, culturally across the board, to acquire things inspired by it.

So now we have Transformers, the live action movie, which actually starts with the credit “Paramount Pictures and Hasbro present…” It stars this week’s Sexiest Woman Alive (Megan Fox), features state-of-the-art effects and, as most movies aimed at children do nowadays, pushes the sex and violence as far as its PG-13 rating allows. It cost $151 million to make, and grossed over $700 so far.

Think about those numbers, and think about the state of the world today. Think what the initial investment could’ve done for, say, victims of Hurricane Katrina. Think what a difference the box-office returns would make if they were given to, say, famine relief. Now think about that money poured instead into a toy commercial.

Yes, movies are made to turn a profit. Yes, the same complaints could be made for all big-budget fantasy epics, from Star Wars to Pirates of the Caribbean to The Dark Knight. But goddamn, people: it’s not a cultural icon like Superman or a beloved franchise like Indiana Jones, it’s the goddamned Transformers, created for no other reason than to sell toys. Yes, there’s more than meets the eye here, and it’s the utter blank core of the typical American satisfied to become part of this obscene, in the truest sense of the word, revenue stream.

And that is why I hate the Transformers.

And it appears I’m not alone.

The Music from Hell’s Waiting Room

Posted on July 21, 2008 by Alex in Bryan Adams, Debbie Boone, Hell, Kenny Rogers, Michael McDonald, music, Sheena Easton, You Light Up My Life | 5 Comments

Last night the family went out for post-dinner ice cream at the local Culver’s. We sat outside, since in the shade it was quite pleasant. However, we could still hear the background music, probably more clearly than the lucky folks packed inside. And so, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, in order, the music from Hell’s Waiting Room*:

Ever Changing Times by Michael McDonald & Aretha Franklin

You Light Up My Life by Debbie Boone**

Morning Train by Sheena Easton

When You Love Someone by Bryan Adams

The Gambler by Kenny Rogers

Another Day in Paradise by Phil Collins

I felt the most sympathy for the young man in the Motorhead t-shirt; he might actually need therapy. True metalheads can only survive a few seconds of exposure to The Gambler. Luckily it’s July, and ice cream melts quickly, so I think he left before the song reached toxic levels. I hope we did, too.

* As designated by my brilliant wife, the Mater Familias.

** Unless you lived through it, you can’t imagine how ubiquitous and omnipresent this song was. In 1977 it dominated the radio. Your parents loved it, your Sunday School teacher approved of it, Ms. Boone (daughter of white-bread born-again rocker Pat) performed it on each of the many TV variety shows, and it was just plain inescapable. Not even Meco’s discofied version of the Star Wars theme could overpower it. It spent ten weeks at number one on the Billboard chart. Fortunately Ms. Boone also won the Best New Artist Grammy Award, often the kiss of career death (i.e., Starland Vocal Band, Christopher Cross, A Taste of Honey, Jody Watley, Mark Cohn, Paula Cole, and most recently, Amy Winehouse), and thus disappeared from the national scene.

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