Nether-Hours in PARTY-WORLD

Not all of the after-life can be drudgery, can it? Midnight at the ball and Beetlejuice would inevitably pose “as a valet”, driving off with people’s cars in a chauffer’s hat. The vehicles would be turned into twisted Tim Burton sculptures at the graveyard junk lot, incidental to the Bio-Exoricist sign down at the office. Crazy carousels and pitch-black skies, “just a night down at the bug-zapper” or just a fool’s paradise in unincorporated purgatory…… sleazy and corrupt like rotten nutball commercial time, graveyard hours only. I wouldn’t count on it, but “paid sandworm rides” aren’t a good idea in the “snake farm” business to recent arrivals. Don’t walk through strange doors and never lose the handbook…… you could die, laughing.

 

Advertisements
Nether-Hours in PARTY-WORLD

“Otho” of THE ARTS

  

Glenn Shadix plays “Otho”, the masterful interior decorator with a jowly air of presumption and tremendous self-control. “Just so”, with hints of Alfred Hitchcock and lugubrious, droll wit.

I see a lot of Charles Addams in this guy—as the culture required boundaries and class distinctions to make such a world to exist, kind of a “mirror image” of the uncanny, propitious, classy, and weird.

The actor who played Otho “has passed on”, but that isn’t to say WE COULDN’T FIND AN IMPERSONATOR to make a cameo, perhaps in a low-rent “infomercial sequence” that shows you, even in The Netherworld, that “the more things change the more they stay the same”.

Ambulance chasers, “medical malpractice” shenanigans—the low-rent man is impressed by the trappings of class, if even the yuppie Dietz’s “lulled by appearances”.

Do the funky art school robot, German expressionism and severe artifice to dazzle, beguile, and confound. “A paranoid Android?”, Lydia would relate to this……

“Otho” of THE ARTS

Virtual Netherworld, “LEVEL-EDITS”

Hats off to the creators of this extraordinary creation in the old “Minecraft” game-engine.

I wrote this in their YouTube comments section:

You two creatives totally KICK-ASS!!! Love the sort of “dubstep” remix of the main Beetlejuice theme. With extra programming chops, I could see “a game”, inside THE GAME (– Minecraft)…… like the bonus levels in the old StarFox for SNES with looming, galactic slot-machines and a netherworld flag-rally, outpacing the sandworms.

Here’s an idea…….

However, this is way beyond the scope of “Beetlejuice, himself”……. probably still back on “PONG”, Asteroids, and FoozeBall in like, “the 4-bit swamp” of primordial gaming. If there’s money in it, why not a game on the smart-phone?

Here’s Beetlejuice trying to outpace the desperation of modern existence– you can say he’s being chased by “REMCO, the-goheadandgitit” repossession office for delinquent payments on his junky furniture. More, “my speed”……

http://loderunnerwebgame.com/LodeRunner/

 

“Smokey & The Bandit” lives here….. “Convoy ’77”

 

Virtual Netherworld, “LEVEL-EDITS”

Workprint Burial Grounds…..

More obscurities……

A bootlegged work-print (– or “work-in-progress”)

Watch, as they were toying around with how to edit the ending. (A very “rough-cut”) before all the effects were “wrapped” in post-production.

You get a sense of “filmed possibilities” or unexplored tangents “mostly left on the cutting-room floor” like outtakes and miscues, taking on the appearance of an early student film.

This is called “coverage”, as in “COVER-MY-ASS” to hit all the bases once the essential celluloid is “in the can”, and what they director and editing team “have to work with”.

The moving image….. MOVIE MAGIC.

Somehow, this is all cobbled together by genius “big picture” thinkers to make a completed product, thanks to the contributions of hundreds.

You only see “the cream” on top…… as THE SLOG to get there is completely taken for granted by hyper-active 9 year-old’s. They say, too much “low-hanging fruit” will only make a youth SPOILED and quite sick with a media diet that leads to indigestion when they encounter the brutal facts of life.

Pass the NES controller, Bart Simpson!!

Workprint Burial Grounds…..

A Montage of Industry Politics

       “Joker, here……”

 

   

1) “Accept no Imitations or Substitutions”

2) “Writer’s Room, by Committee”

3) “Premiere, Audience-Tracking”

4) “The after-math”

5) “Spun-off to Netflix”

 

 

“The horror, the horror!”

  

…… Don’t let that happen to your franchise!

A Montage of Industry Politics

“Could Be”……

Credit where credit is due……

https://movieweb.com/beetlejuice-2-trailer-fan-made/

  

Smoke ’em if you got ’em…… no more reflective than a maggot at feeding-time and twice as verbal. Ashes-to-ashes & Dust-to-dust as the property is not dead, only “on break”.

And remember, hell is Universal– only worse for “fresh meat”, right-off the slab in the misbegotten scheme of things.

Life is a gas station and a bag of chips. He puts “The Jerk” in beef-jerky and will jerk-around “the cast-off’s” hapless enough to say the name of he-who-cannot-be-named.

  

“Video Graveyard”…… Netherworld Obscura…… Do you call on the dark?

 

Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!

   

“Could Be”……

Tower Grove Inferno, ’79

  

There was an interesting part, in both their proto-careers when Michael Keaton & James Belushi almost starred in the same sit-com about roommates, perhaps in the industrial brown-stone civic beer-hall of Pittsburgh. Or maybe “it was Cincinnati”.

But that sort of blue-collar/ethnic comedy? Speak to me about the run-down, Democratic cities and you wouldn’t have to tunnel “too deep into the netherworld” to find yourself in good ole’ south St. Louis.

Lots of beer breweries, mesh baseball caps, handle-bar mustaches, and gonzo Jim Henson Children’s Television Workshop value “this side of Cheech n’ Chong….. Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever” wailing on the record player as they knock back dark-brown Busch bottles.

Furniture? Thy name is a milk-crate and a big-bellied, droop-earlobed plaster Buddha statue like an altar to pot and “DEATH TO DISCO”, if not an amateur herpatologist’s snake-cage humming in the corner under a pink light as simple house-plants beat in the pungent breeze by the sun-dappled window and smell of BBQ’d pork steaks.

Call it “the crash pad”…… eeking out a hole-in-the-wall existence amid the tumbled, jutting-up sidewalk where weeds grow in-between the cracks like Popsicle juice and New Left murals of peace & togetherness, ecumenical Cathedral mass and the bleeding thorns of Italian-Roman Jesus and hokey parochial school by the scratching quill of St. Aquinas.

You’d better believe it…… your day-job at ole’ “Channderson Electric” like something out of DANTE’S INFERNO with trenches of molten-metal and flying-sparks. Your roommate, in mustard-yellow and green coveralls smelling of fried wires and arc-welded ozone.

And Friday? A good ole’ party. Beetlejuice will see you there as he crashes on someone’s couch like some foul, work-shy scheme by which a dream floats like armpit stench and dark circles under his eyes. It’s the night-shift in the morgue, if you working-stiff’s didn’t know enough to gather your beer-bottles close “from free-loader’s” and faster, ingratiating talk.

Does anybody know this guy? He just “sort of showed-up” and no one knows for sure…..

And this is for all you animals, INFERNO-ROOM style at the ole’ Delta House. Don’t be “that guy”…..

Tower Grove Inferno, ’79