Article: Spending Time with Mr McMahon

This blog rarely talks about television. However, as a lapsed fan of sports entertainment, I took the time to binge-watch the recent release of Netflix’s limited series documentary Mr McMahon. This in-depth look at Vince McMahon, the former World Wrestling Entertainment owner, has coincided with the WWE merging with Zuffa, creating the new company TKO. The WWE’s flagship show, RAW, is also soon to be appearing on Netflix. However, during the 3-year filming of Chris Smith’s documentary, McMahon resigned from TKO after allegations of sexual assault and sex trafficking. Rather than throwing the series into disarray, the documentary is updated with details of the allegations. Most of the interviews that appear in the series are shown before the allegations with Vince’s final interviews never taking place.

The six-episode docuseries delivers an overview of his life. Detailing how he took the once territorial wrestling federation from his father, turning it into a global entertainment phenomenon. It also charts the creation of Mr McMahon; a wildly exaggerated television character of Vince who plays the main villain for the WWE. Mr McMahon asks whether there’s a difference between Vince the character and Vince the man. 

Considering the real-life allegations now attributed to Vince, the differences seem slight. Early on, Vince remarks that he doesn’t want to show anybody the real him. This is an unfortunate remark as Vince’s own self-aggrandising ego, toxic masculinity and unrepentant capitalist viewpoint underline his true nature at nearly every turn. While many of the film’s interviewees have an alliance with Vince, the documentary has done enough homework to highlight much of Vince’s questionable behaviour. And the term questionable is too light a word. When under the microscope Vince can be seen as a vicious Tyrant who rules over his bread and circus soap opera with an iron fist and engorged loins. No one is really spared from his oppressiveness, wiliness or lack of moral fibre. Huge musclebound Titans shed a tear for Vince at points. Granted that this takes place before the allegations and stepping down, it’s still hard not to see this as Stockholm Syndrome.

Like so many Netflix documentaries, Mr McMahon is hampered by how it is presented. It’s clear that many livelihoods have been lost or destroyed due to Vince’s actions, yet there isn’t a lot of breathing space for those who have suffered over Vince’s tyranny. Instead, the questionable antics are almost shrugged off with arguments over different values. Possibly because there’s so much dirt and there’s only so much time. This becomes tough to swallow during the midway point when the tragic story of Owen Hart comes to the forefront. The Hart family have suffered great turmoil under the WWE, with Owen’s death being the peak of their heartbreak. Listening to Bret speak about his dealings with Vince and the WWE is still as troubling as it was in the 90s. The fact that Owen dies on a live pay-per-view and Vince orders the show to continue speaks volumes. The images of distressed wrestlers continuing to fight over the only just dried blood stains of their dead friend are more haunting than any horror film. Yet that might even be the worst of it.  

But the difficulty here lies with the talking heads who still favour Vince. To many, Vince McMahon is still seen as a father figure who launched their careers. Countless people owe Vince for where they are today. Late on, Senior Vice President Bruce Pritchard takes offence to what he’s seen from the documentary, with a strong feeling that the only things the filmmakers are doing are showing Vince as a villain. Pritchard notes how Vince ensured the best care available for his wife who was diagnosed with cancer. The defence given feels like the moments in Peter Biskind’s Down and Dirty Pictures in which filmmakers who found success with disgraced producer Harvey Weinstein still gave him an amount of protection despite his bullying. With this, Mr McMahon has more of an element of balance than expected at times, because so many of the ex-wrestlers interviewed don’t hold a grudge against Vince, because why would they? 

For wrestling fans, Mr McMahon doesn’t tell you anything they already don’t know. Those who didn’t realise how much of a conceited megalomanic Vince McMahon is will be shocked at what they see. The film only drains half of the swampy waters. Some will be shocked at how guarded Vince is. Many more sordid details could easily be found on the many well-researched YouTube channels or by listening to the 4-episode deep dive of McMahon on the Behind the Bastards podcast. But those other outlets aren’t as slick. The backing that Netflix provides, softens matters because, as mentioned, the company now have a stake in the WWE. So, the documentary becomes a history highlight reel of Vince and the WWE for the uninitiated.

However, Vince’s corrupted story of the American dream plays out on a scale as large as films such as There Will Be Blood (2007) or Citizen Kane (1941). Honestly. Vincent Kennady McMahon’s story is that operatic. He is Daniel Plainview for the lovers of spandex. Nothing stands in his way. With pop culture influenced in ways many couldn’t even imagine. As a docu-series, with the interviewees that Smith manages to sign off and get time with, Mr McMahon is the most comprehensive, mainstream look at the WWE of recent times.

Wrestling journalist Dave Meltzer, who is often a voice of reason through the series, delivers a throwaway comment which rings true not only about Vince and wrestling fans but also the complicated relationship that many have with celebrity idols: “People will support an entertainment product and not care about the moral fibre of the guy running the product.” It’s not a profound statement, but an incredibly accurate judgment on where many are with modern celebrity culture. An unexpected moment in a series full of expected moments for wrestling fans.

Mr McMahon is streaming on Netflix

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Article: The Dirty South

A favourite podcast of mine that I often have filling my earholes when I am preparing the Sunday roast is the highly informative, often funny podcast Behind the Bastards. Hosted by former Cracked Writer Robert Evans; each episode documents an infamous grifter, villain or dictator from the world’s rogues gallery. A recent episode dealt with the recent phenomenon of Tiger King. If you’ve not got Netflix and have been living under a rock, The Netflix show depicts the beyond the bizarre tale of a polyamorous, gay wild cat owner, whose increasingly insane antics ended up with the aforementioned Joe, banged up in Federal Jail for violating the endangered species act and the attempted murder of another Big Cat owner Carole Baskin. The limited series delves into the outrageous lives of a variety of eccentric characters. Joe’s nonconformist lifestyle is as much of the documentaries focus as his grifting and obsession with Baskin. Everything seems to hold itself in a twisted sense of balance. 

Much has been said about the show and the background of the people for whom it is about. But the thing that really picked my brain about the show came from comedian Billy Wayne Davis who guested on the Behind the Bastards Podcast. With his origins based in a more rural, part of southern American, Davis’ reaction was one of near passivity. To him, he had met so many people like the cast of colourful characters on the show, that while he found the show funny, he was non-plussed by their behaviour. Remarking in a near throwaway comment that folks like Joe Exotic only shock city folk due to the little knowledge they hold of locations that the likes of Joe inhabit. Such criminality is common. Crooked lawmen. Hired hitmen. Dubious means of obtaining sums of cash. And always wrapped up within a lifestyle which goes beyond the fringes. Davis also stated on the podcast; The Daily Zeitgeist, that the likes of Jodie Hill and Danny McBride nailed the rural, southern way of life way before the hit Netflix show in their films The Foot Fist Way (2006) and the sitcom Eastbound and Down (2009). Personally, a part of me thinks that we should have been primed for the likes of Joe Exotic in films such as the 1998 Florida noir, Wild Things.

There is plenty of southern fried features with questionable escapades that could easily make an enjoyable overnight binge along with Tiger King. But for me, it’s Wild Things that sticks out as the crown jewel. True Crime has made a splash in the podcast and streaming world with its lurid elements and forensic details. However, a film like Wild Things was indulging itself in the same type of sociopathic chicanery way before Joe Exotic hit the zeitgeist. There is a clear love of the sensationalised indulgences that true crime shows, and podcasts enjoy playing into. But while a show such as Making a Murderer (2015) still can claim an element of moral justice. Tiger King leans into the outlandish mechanisms that also lie within John McNaughton’s humid cult hit. A backcountry playground removed from a so-called civilised world far to up its backside. Non-conformist sexual behaviour, crooked cohorts and the feeling that everyone not only for personal gain but are also a law into themselves. Likable characters are not what you watch either Tiger King or Wild Things for, but the needling desire to see thorn filled rabbit hole leads for these creatures is a strong pull.

In an article for The Ringer released around Wild Things’ 20th anniversary, bestselling author Shea Serrano recounts the amounts of double-crosses that occur in Wild Things’ 108-minute running. Shea notes the number of deceptive shenanigans with glee, yet it’s not noted at how well the film manages to do this. Wild Things comes out in an era where plot-twists and post-modern monkeyshines are well noted. Let’s not take into account Neve Campbell popping up in Scream (1996) or the question of Who is Keyser Soze. Wild Things still comes out a year before The 6th Sense (1999) a film in which that film's major plot twist leaves the audience shook for years to come. Wild Things has TWELVE double crosses within its running time, with Shea averaging that at a double-cross every 9 minutes. Doing for plot twists what Airplane! (1980) did for sight gags. This is, however, a showcase to how drum-tight the movie’s narrative is and how well-oiled the mechanics play out. John McNaughton (Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) is not a directorial name that features often in circles of social media, those who know the name, know that he is no slouch. Watching Wild Things again, it is fascinating to watch how characters are blocked in scenes to foreshadow hidden agendas and to keep the audience guessing. The positioning of characters, as well as cutting and story shaping from editor Elena Maganini, are a great example of “the seen unseen”. A character placed behind a gated fence, but only after certain aspects play out first. A coupling of characters suggesting an unfortunate outcome for one, but almost signaling out another character who is running out of view. It’s also worth noting aspects such as casting Theresa Russell as the rich bitch Sandra Van Ryan. Russell who had a notable role in crime drama Black Widow (1987) in which she plays a murderous sociopath who murders for money. The film’s sheer audacity to cast Robert Wagner in a film that obtains mysterious boating incidents as set pieces is a clear note of the film’s gallows humour.

Poor Taste? Of course. But Wild Things is a film that knows what it is playing at. Salacious is the order of the day. Both Tiger King and Wild Things embrace taboo and scandal with loving arms. They ride on the idea of the guilty pleasure. Itching at spots that many would like to claim they do not have. The infamous threesome is a moment with a decent amount of sleazy steaminess yet is sneaky enough with the ages of the female students that no one appears to care that they are sleeping with their former teacher that should know better. However, as the camera gleefully glides slowly over the wet body of Denise Richards midway through the film, you see that the film is playing you like a flute. Roger Ebert in his review of the film asks people to refrain from telling him the film is in bad taste. It is quite clear. It makes no excuses. Ebert also remarks that the film is designed for “connoisseurs of melodramatic comic vulgarity”. How do you feel when you see Richards’ washing a dirty jeep in short shorts? Do you note that she is a school student in the film? Your answers will guide you on whether you would want to watch the film. It may also dictate your feelings towards something like Tiger King. The only difference (thankfully) Wild Things is fiction. 

Listen to the Fatal Attractions Podcast episode of Wild Things here

Review: Escape From Tomorrow

Year: 2013 (U.K Release 2014)
Director: Randy Moore
Screenplay: Randy Moore
Starring: Roy Abramsohn, Elena Schuber, Katelynn Rodriguez, Annet Mahendru, Danielle Safady, Alison Lees-Taylor

Synopsis is here:

Despite suddenly appearing on Netflix awkwardly, like a Vine comedian whose has been deemed sexist, Escape from Tomorrow caused quite a stir within cinephiles due to its conception. Its director; Randy Moore uses a combination of iPhones for scripting and consumer grade DSLR cameras to create an entire feature film within Disneyland, Florida, without permission from the owners. Moore's film holds more footage of Mickey's merchandise, rides and scenery than a regular Hollywood feature would be able to legitimately pay for. When viewing the film in its entirety, you can see it's not just a gutsy move, but a logistical nightmare. The film was clearly planned in a way to conceal what Moore and his crew was actually doing. Moore himself was so worried that someone might catch what he was up to, he edited the film in South Korea.

While one could deem the shoot problematic, you can't say that all the work wasn't worth it. Moore is able to show the "happiest place on earth" in a negative view, while avoiding Disney's notorious lawyers. Fair play to the man. Yet despite this, I found Escape from Tomorrow's origins to be more interesting than the film itself. Moore's film; a deeply personal film that delves into a newly unemployed man; Jim White, descending into madness during his family's last day at Disney, is often hampered by the guerrilla tactics that allow the film to even be. The film's blurry, out of focus monochrome visuals were considered by the director not only to ease the pressure of editing, but to shape the bizarre imagery itself. This brings mixed results, as the film is a blend of artsy home video and rushed student production. Unlike the early fixtures of the mumblecore movement, the film never feels at ease visually. Yet in a ludicrous catch-22, the film could not be produced in any other way. At one point, a family argument ends with the camera fumbling gracelessly at the infamous castle merely to establish that once again, Disney is the backdrop.

Escape from Tomorrow also suffers from a flaky narrative which nods towards the surreal but lacks true cohesion. We witness Disney Princesses shown to be high class hookers to Asian businessmen, how does this connect with hypnotising evil queens, cat flu outbreaks and a regressive sci-fi experiment? The connective tissue is irritatingly loose. There's clearly a way of making all this ambition gel, but possibly not by having the protagonist father ogling underage teens. Making this one of the driving factors of the plot does little to drive compassion. Then again, the White family is difficult to draw any empathy from in the first place. 

I found myself comparing EFT to Clare Denis' Bastards (2013), a film which starts out as equally as oblique as this one, albeit not as surreal. Bastards also follows an unsympathetic family, and yet the film's tone, the performances and mosaic editing had me absorbed in its puzzle. Escape from Tomorrow struggles under the weight of what it is, and so never truly comes together emotionally or conceptually.

Escape from Tomorrow never really gains a sense of self, although it does well to push the "sinster Disney" angle. This only ever feels like part of the puzzle. Moore; whose childhood clearly has ties to both Disney and his own father (their relationship deteriorated as Moore grew), clearly wishes to excavate some demons with his piece. Some elements work conceptually while the underlying themes could speak volumes if Moore had more time to work on the film's flaws. At a time in which critic A.O Scott laments at mainstream America's arrested development, Escape from Tomorrow's setting and ideas set a troubling reminder of how childhood fantasy, adult mortality and capitalist ideals can converge and warp the sense of family intimacy. Watching the film after the Sony Hack also help illustrate how one can take a pot shot at corporations by using creative methods or destructive ones. One does hope that more can distil some of his ambition and implement his talents into something that won't have him looking over his shoulder constantly.

 

Geek Planet Online: Lost and Found

"I feel some will agree with me that there was something so enriching, as a film fan, scanning the rows and rows of titles for something to pique your interest. I still love going into bricks and mortar stores, looking for deals or hidden gems, or picking up a title with great cover art."

I've had an article posted about missing those old ways of finding and watching films. Please click the quote to view.