Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films,
2014
Images from the Internet
The Lost Realities of Hog Caller
Written, directed and edited by Tom Richards
TPR Productions
Wild Eye Releasing
85 minutes, 2011
www.wildeyereleasing.com
www.mvdvisual.com
Tight
Written and directed by Shaun Donnelly
Mind Engine Productions
Wild Eye Releasing
114 minutes, 201X
www.wildeyereleasing.com
www.mvdvisual.com
The band (left to right in picture above:
Tuesday Cross: bass
Alicia Andrews: drum
Monica Mayhem: vox
Bree Olson: manager
Layla Labelle: guitar
Images from the Internet
These exploitations seem to go together
for a number of reasons. First of all, they’re supposed documentaries about
real bands that are not your average run of the mill groups. Second, they both
came out around the same time. Third, they are both award winners of dubious
prizes. Finally, the odds at success for the bands are a bit farfetched. Other
than that, these two groups are worlds apart, as are the styles of the film.
And enjoyment levels.
Written, directed and edited by Tom Richards
TPR Productions
Wild Eye Releasing
85 minutes, 2011
www.wildeyereleasing.com
www.mvdvisual.com
This “found footage” mockumentary
about a grindocre duo called Hog Caller is a nearly psychedelic ride into the
backwoods of Middletown, PA, home of Three Mile Island, and apparently Osama
bin Laden. Who knew?
With just a little too much fondness
for pig heads and David Lynch’s Eraserhead
(1977), this real (?) band of two lunatics live out in the woods. A local
television reporter, Skip Jenkins, is doing a piece on “Where Are Hog Caller,”
and has apparently bought a box of video (yes, VHS) tape home Hog Caller
movies, and we watch them interspersed with Skip, and a whole mess of messed up
crap.
Words used to describe this on the
box include “Repugnant” and “Sickest,” and yeah, it is that. Lots of pig bodies
and disembodied heads with flies flying around them are shown in various stages
of decay. One little one is dressed in a bonnet and hauled around as if it was
a baby, on a playground swing or getting ice cream by one of the Callers.
There is also something about a guy
in a bad rubber George W. Bush mask (actually supposed to be Bush) giving money
to a way-too-short guy dressed in Arab garb with a very fake beard (an obviously
blond dude), who has a shooting camp just outside of town where the targets
have pictures of Jesus and Mary in the middle of them. Yep, it’s designed to
offend more than succeeds in being funny. I wasn’t offended, and didn’t find it
funny, either. Just too obvious. Osama is taken out by one of the Callers who
is out huntin’.
Everyone here has only this film to
their credit, but I’m pretty sure that’s because most people use fake names
that one could call Moe’s Bar with, such as Phil Morehole, Stinky Puscadero,
Brenda Paxil, Emily Zoloft, Sandy Seroplex, and Suzy Jihad.
Lots of drug mention/use, lots of alcohol,
lots of fast editing, many dead animals, and little of anything else, such as
story (again, the Eraserhead homage).
But the problem with the film isn’t that it’s “repugnant” and gross, which it
is at times, the biggest issue I have with it is actually the same one I had
with Eraserhead: it’s pointless. I
don’t mind weirdness, and I don’t mind psychotropic filmmaking, but at least
keep it interesting.
I’m not sure if Hog Caller is an
actual group, but for the purposes of this film, they are the duo of Tom
Richards (bass and vocals, aka the Dirtfarmer, aka the director of this film)
and Steve O’Donnell (guitar, aka Vomitrocious). The instruments and vocals are
fed through a synthesizer to make it into noise. They call it grindcore. Okay.
There are also a lot of real animal carcasses (mostly pigs). The gore that is
shown as bodies are chopped up toward the end, are obviously some of the animal
parts from the animal butcher shop where the rest of the carcasses are bought.
Extras are the trailer and a making
of documentary.
All in all, I found this more
annoying than disturbing, and equally boring as gross. I am annoyed because I
feel like I just watched two guys masturbating for 84 minutes in their own ego.
Written and directed by Shaun Donnelly
Mind Engine Productions
Wild Eye Releasing
114 minutes, 201X
www.wildeyereleasing.com
www.mvdvisual.com
The band (left to right in picture above:
Tuesday Cross: bass
Alicia Andrews: drum
Monica Mayhem: vox
Bree Olson: manager
Layla Labelle: guitar
I have seen this described as both a
documentary and a mockumentary, and that’s just on the same DVD cover! And yet,
they both feel accurate.
Porn actress Bree Olson tries her
hand in “reality” filming. Mixing the biz she knows and the idea first fomented
through the Monkees, she enlists four of her colleagues to form an all-girl
pornstar rock band. Most of the women knew their craft musical before (albeit
somewhat limited), and in Micky Dolenz fashion, Alicia Andrews learned to play
the drums just before joining in the group.
From there, it starts to feel like
most other reality shows. The four women are put up in a house together so
tension can both build through familiarity (remember, pornstars tend to be
grown on body image and ego) and induced situations. Here, they have five days
from forming to their first performance. The first piece of armor scratching
comes when Monica Mayhem wants to rehearse (i.e., sing) no more than three
hours a day to save her voice. This is actually not far off standard, but it
causes a supposed ruffle in the band while the other three bond without her.
What I would have done is sing the three hours, but stay with the band while
they rehearse to form a collective, rather than stay home. We don’t see where
the decision not to be there comes from, be it from Monica or the producer(s)
(Olson).
During that first gig, where Tight
are told they are going on first rather than headlining (well, duh, they’ve
only been together for five days, and the now-headliner is fellow pornstar and
more established awful pop singer, Brittaney Starr), it feels like a planned
set-up to see their reactions. During the gig, Monica tells the bassist,
Tuesday Cross, to flash her ass, which she does. They then show an insert of an
interview with guitarist Layla Labelle (and her lovely Montreal accent)
rightfully saying, when up on stage they should separate the band from the
porn. This is thrown out the window as by the second show Monica is shown
singing topless.
There is a lot of nudity and sex
(sometimes from porn shoots especially, and a supposedly spontaneous scenes that
seem way too…convenient with a camera going a foot in front of the action) from
everyone involved. The sex is all hard softcore, i.e., no male body parts shown,
but does not shy away from it or give any indication that is it faked). Which
brings me to this topic: this is not a horror film, so why is it on this blog?
Well, for a number of reasons, but specifically because this is not limited
only to blood and gore, but also to exploitation and sexploitation as well, and
this definitely fits into those two categories, especially since it is an indie
production. True, I had to look just about everybody up to find information on
them, but hey, it’s all in the line of duty, right?
So, speaking of formulated situations
to get reaction, Olson brings her sex-obsessed and Ichabod Crane-like cousin
Joel as Assistant Manager. He’s a creepy guy who likes to see Olson on-location
filming sex scenes while eating sardines from a can with his fingers, who is
brought into the producing of Tight’s first music video. Naturally, Olson goes
and leaves the guy (real or a written character, I’m not sure) there to foster
more angst among the group. This just feels too fabricated and planned, but at
the same time it’s like an accident where you can’t avert your eyes. If you
decide to see this, I guarantee you will utter, out loud, “ewwww.”
Brittaney Starr, in a totally see
through top and looking a bit worn, shows up at a rehearsal tells Tight they
sound “rusty.” Again, this feels like Starr and Olson planned this to rattle
the women for the camera.
An ill-fated tour to Denver strands
the ladies with lots of misadventures and a solo bubble rub in a tub (again,
does not feel spontaneous). To make some money, of course there’s some porn
filming. Shouldn’t Bree, as their manager, send them some cash? I’m beginning
to wonder if there is a more hardcore version of this planned? Will I see it?
Nah, but I’m curious to know if I’m right. For me, that’s one of the biggest
issues about the video is that all the sex is so unspontaneous, and most of the
situations they are put in feel scripted. There are some moments that feel
real, like Layla being mad at Tuesday for whipping her with her studded belt buckle
when Tuesday is wasted. It is almost like she doesn’t know how to express her
anger because it feels real. A lot of the other anger that is expressed,
though, I don’t know if it’s normal band-on-tour-tight quarters kind of stuff,
or triggered by things that we don’t see, or there is someone off-camera
saying, “Okay, you and you fight this time.” The line between real and script
is sometimes easy to see, and sometimes not as much.
Lots of mayhem (pun unintended) as
the ladies drink and slug it out both figuratively and literally, leading up to
a record producer hearing them play on day 37. What happens then, you’ll have
to see, but it’s pretty clear.
But, you are probably asking, this is
about an all-woman pornstar rock band. How are they? Well, I have certainly
seen a lot – and I mean a lot worse
over the years. The playing is rudimentary, the songs are kinda repetitive, the
vocals are okay, and, well, they’re not bad though not great. Considering we
follow them together for the mere 37 days of this shoot, and they have their
first live gig within the first week, it’s actually pretty impressive. I don’t
think they could go anywhere on just
being a rock band, without the gimmick of their other life, but yeah, they’re
decent.
The closest I have come to the
reality of this is seeing Penthouse Pet of the Year Cheryl Rixon front a band
in the early 1980s or so. That was pretty good, but she was helped along by her
co-Australian bandmate, who used to be in the Easybeats (“Friday on My Mind”).
Tight don’t have that option (that we see).
There are lots of cool extras
including many deleted scenes which
are enjoyable, a couple of music videos, photo shoots, multiple trailers for
both this film and the wonderful Wild Eye Releasing, and so much more.
So, this m/d/ocumentary smacks of
reality TV, including the incidental music and pacing, but it sure beats out
some of the other fakes, such as Honey Crap Crap and Duck Shit, whatever they’re
called.
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