Schadenfreude review: Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band
1978
Directed by Michael Schulz


I have seen deliberate rudeness. I have seen calculated acts of destruction. I have witnessed evil. I have been present at catastrophic events wrapped in the macabre and disturbing. I have shown and been shown images and pictures that have made the brave weep and the numb wince, and I have personal knowledge of certain actions that involve the deepest, most degrading aspects of human nature that have blighted entire regions of the mass consciousness.

But now, I have seen Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

This movie is the founding film of the Schadenfreude Order of The Scarred Collective Unconscious. To be rewarded the Schadenfreude OSCU, you must view a film judged to be a member of the Order. And that is the entire move, from first image to the last credit. No fast-forwarding, no bathroom visits, no cheating! Short trips to the fridge are allowed, but any absence longer than 27 seconds will invalidate the SOSCU, and mention of this failure will be added to your permanent record.

Generally, we try not to publish too many details of the movie we review. Previous knowledge of plot and the like dulls the pain, and invalidates the suffering necessary for the S.O.S.C.U. to retain the worth in its achieving. But there is no revelation that will prepare the mind for the utter devastation that is Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. If you have ever wondered how we at the At Schadefreuden Conclave set our standards, this movie is the yardstick with which we punish your inner child.

A high-scoring Schadenfreude Film ( such as My Body Hungers, 25 out of 30 ) delivers all the fun a really bad movie can in a milieu that is strange and foreign. Its that good natured romp through the imagination and depravity that makes one laugh and wonder ‘what were they thinking?’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, is not this. It is not fun. It is not easy. Viewing it is work. Hard work. And the sheer horror of each scene is only eclipsed by the sheer horror of the next scene. There is little time for fun or any pleasant mental activity during this film, as one’s mind is completely filled with the enormity of the mistake this film is, was, and always will be.

At least half of horror is the cast. Huge top flight talent such as George Burns, Alice Cooper, Peter Frampton, The Bee Gees, Billy Preston, George Martin ( the Beatles’ own record producer), Donald Pleasance and even Steve Martin all are in this movie, and all actively suck! Only Aerosmith and Earth, Wind and Fire escape the huge Suck brush as it smears its rainbow hue of filth across the faces of Hollywood. Adding insult to sucking chest wound, the movie ends with the scene of a large crowd of the finest talent the Seventies’ had to offer re-creating the Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s album cover. This mass of Inhumanity includes Tina Turner, the band Heart, Sha-Na-Na, several Carridines, Carol Channing, Johnny Winter, Helen Reddy, Gwen Verdon, Hank Williams jr., Al Stewart, Leif Garrett, Rick Derringer, Del Shannon, Donovan, Johnny Rivers, Jose Feliciano, Seals and Croft, Connie Stevens, Wolfman Jack, Dr. John, Wilson Pickett, Robert Palmer, Bonnie Raitt, Anita Pointer (of the Pointer Sisters ), Curtis Mayfield and mucho mucho mas! And then this group is given choreography. And, of course, the choreography fails, and sucks. There is the look of unwilling contractual obligation on many of the stars’ faces, and the camera has to hunt for close-ups that aren’t faces of overly made-up, strained, confused, drug addled Seventies icons that are having trouble with their left and the right. The camera’s hunt fails. This final moment of the movie is as jaw dropping as the first.

The first moment is that of WWI being ended by a four piece band. Just let that soak in for a second. Poison gas and the Kaiser all just give up because of a guy with a tuba. We are then shown a long montage, scored by the theme song being played in the style of historical periods that have never existed. This movie is so bad, it had to recreate reality to contain it’s evil. Then, with the two exceptions above, covers of The Beatles’s are performed horribly. They are linked with a plot that does not make sense even when hallucinating on acid (we checked). And there is no dialogue. Yeah. That’s right. No dialogue. George Burns narrates the whole thing, and then the lyrics of the songs tell us everything else we need to know, except for ‘there is a limit to how much cocaine you should do in one decade’.

The broad variety of stars ensures a special kind of pain, because someone you love or like is in this film; for if you don’t like George Burns, you probably like Steve Martin, or if you don’t like Aerosmith you probably like The Bee Gees. At least one stars’ untouchable illusion will be shattered for you, guaranteed! For us at the board, the Steve Martin dance number was particularly shattering, and yes, it was worse than The Pink Panther. The Pink Panther is frigging Citizen Kane compared to Sgt. Pepper. No that’s not extreme enough. Oh let’s face it, there is no Metaphor extreme enough to describe Sgt. Pepper.

Still doubt that the enormous suckatudalinous of this Sucking suck-munch of a Suckily made Suck-burger sucks? Get this, it was the second attempt by the Bee Gees to make a cover movie of the Beatles music. Yeah, that’s right! They had practice and they still made a movie so bad it burned it’s own picture out of the dictionary under ‘bad’, like in ‘Raider’s of the Lost Ark’! The art documentary, “All This and WW II” featured Beatles’ covers by most of the music artists in the final shot of Sgt. Peppers set to documentary footage of WW II and WW II personalities. Picture yourself watching Hitler at Berchtesgaden while Helen Reddy croons ‘Fool on The Hill'. That’s the whole movie, stock footage and Beatles’ covers. Then they go and make Sgt Peppers! What the. . .how could they. . . .couldn't they see the. . . .ahem. Sorry. Better now.

When bracketed by the Bee Gee’s “All This and WW II” and Julie Tamor’s ‘Across the Universe’, Sgt Pepper’s gets even worse. We now know it was possible to make a Beatle’s cover movie that does not violently suck the tailpipe of the Universe’s Pinto Hatchback. We also now know the same group tried it twice, and failed. Armed with this knowledge, the viewing of Sgt. Pepper’s becomes the type of psychological experience that could piss off Pollyanna, take Buddha out of nirvana and make Paris Hilton a decent person. We do not recommend this movie. We hope you see it soon.


Some fun stuff particular to this flick are:

Fun? Fun? THERE IS NO FUN!

Classsic bad movie elements contained in this Flick

How about too much budget, to much cocaine, too little control. Classic Hollywood!

THE DRINKING GAME FOR “Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts' Club Band”

Just keep drinking, man. Just keep drinking. If you don't drink, start.

IF ONE HAS TO WRITE A COLLEGE ESSAY FOR FILM CLASS

This film has done enough damage.

SCHADEN FREUDE SCORE
Elements: (X out of ten )
Titillation: (X out of five)
Wrongness: (X of five)
Style & Funness : (X out of five)
Extra points: (X out of five)
TOTAL: ( UNSCORABLE out of 30 )

Schadenfreuden Movie Review!

THE HOOKED GENERATION
1968
Directed by William Grefe


It’s important to bring up Beyond The Valley of The Dolls at the very beginning of this review. Firstly, it will get us more hits on web searches. Secondly, students of film must realize that no great work of art pops out of the cultural womb without parents; there are no virgin births in art.


On Pop Culture’s road to Beyond, The Hooked Generation was a bus stop floozie who tossed a little chromosomal freakiness into the milieu. Hooked is an example of Exploitation film called ‘Young naked Hippies running amok taking drugs and upsetting older people’, and they were a popular form of Exploitation film in the late Sixties and the early Seventies. The Stereotypical hippie icon was used to replace monsters like Godzilla, Dracula and the Blob, who had become drained of their power to terrify with every passing day of the Atomic Age. Vampires were
nothing compared to the living horror of the pot smoker just around the corner!


We start off slow, and for the first twenty minutes we are deceived into thinking this is a crime movie, with shoot outs, explosions, foreign drug dealers and even junkies shooting up during inappropriate times. The acting is passable and the special effects are of a decent quality. In short, who cares? It seems like just another Miami Vice Mutation. The Schadenfreuden Movie Conclave almost voted to walk away and dustbin the film, but our dedication to suffering held us firm, and held us true. And lo, we were rewarded with some incredibly bad cinema!


Our central characters are Daisey, Dum Dum and Acid. Acid is a heroine addict, Dum Dum is a violent psychopath, and Daisey is a guy with a girls’ name who leads them all! What more could you want? How about a bunch of Cubans, Coast Guard Sailors local and federal Cops? But wait! Our three villains shoot ‘em all! There are more dead authority figures in this movie than in Ice-T’s wet dreams. And just to make sure all the visual vice bases are covered, we have a young lady and her boyfriend who stumble upon the drug runners, and get caught up in their shenanigans. And yes, the young lady is clad only in a bikini.


The young couple are taken hostage and predictable things happen, though some ridiculously method acting choices keep us interested during the rather tame rape scene. A good example of this is Dum Dum biting off wax from a candle in response to a sexy Go-Go dance our young lady hostage is forced to perform, to her extreme shame as evinced by thick Glycerine tears!


The real treats of Hooked are the scene which take place at the private office of a psychedelic club owner and a large mansion full of hippies, both of which our intrepid triumvirate attempt to sell their drugs. The office stands for itself, it’s great! And the scene where owner stares at the pink phone, debating whether or not to turn the guys in, is truly inspired. Then, we have the scenes wherein Acid visits a Hippie mansion that should be cut into it’s own short film. It has junkies, stoners, flower children, gurus preaching, flute playing and backgammon. Yes! The counter culture terror of backgammon as you’ve never seen before! Acid dies a beautiful death in the mansion, redeeming the insulting normalcy of the first twenty minutes of this movie.


There’s all kind of death and stupidity to close out the film. The hostages do dumb stuff, the crooks do dumb stuff and despite the evilness of the three baddies, the ineptitude of the police almost makes you root for the criminals; those schmuck cops don’t deserve to catch ‘em! There are some odd law enforcement choices that just won’t fly with the Law And Order TV show generation, let us leave it at that. You’ll love the indignation you’ll feel.


The last half hour will feel like a Russ Meyer movie in it’s pace, sentimentality and violence. Which is why we brought it up in the first place. Though there is much to dislike, The Schadenfreuden Conclave would like to send a special Commendation of EatMe to the foley artist who chose the sound effect for the swamp scenes of this movie. Shame on you, and well done.


This movie won’t make you want to do drugs, but it also won’t make you want to quit them. It’s a great example of why actors should be given hugs, not the Method. Strap on your hose America and take a shot of The Hooked Generation!

Some fun stuff particular to this flick are:

The hippie Mansion
Coke snorting scene in office
Hippie lingo galore

Classsic bad movie elements contained in this Flick
Plot holes bigger than Shakespeare’s foot
Cops that can’t shoot
Method inspired over acting

THE DRINKING GAME FOR “The Hooked Generation”

DRINK WHEN:
You see a hookah.
You see any land line telephone
Whenever a joint is passed.
Any one says, “Beautiful.”

CHUG A WHOLE BEER WHEN:
When Glycerin tears flow
When Acid shoots up
When Dum Dum files his bulles
As the club owner looks at the pink phone, you have to drink during the entire scene until he picks up the receiver

IF ONE HAS TO WRITE A COLLEGE ESSAY FOR FILM CLASS
As Ken Kesey explores the subconscious of his generation, Grefe’s The Hooked Generation condemns this exploration with a dystopian yet doctrinal view of the Masochistic Chauvinism of the male psyche. The three leading men split all manhood into the Mythic truth of Creative Theology within the matrix of burgeoning economic upheaval as edified by the rise of the feminine mystique within the Cultural mainstream.

SCHADEN FREUDEN SCORE
Elements: 7 ( out of 10 )
Titillation: 2 ( out of 5)
Wrongness: 3( out of 5)
Style & Funness: 3 ( out of five)
Extra points: 4 ( out of five)
TOTAL: 19 ( out of 30 )

A GOOD REVIEW OF A BAD MOVIE: BY THE SCHADENFREUDEN CONCLAVE

Alley Tramp
Director: H. G. Lewis
1966
Released in the US 1968



Herschell Gordon Lewis, the director of Alley Tramp, has committed many aesthetic crimes in the landscape of the social milieu we call the media, and we in the Schadenfreude Conclave have applauded this brave warriors’ success in disfiguring the collective unconscious. But Alley Tramp does not scar anything except one’s perceptions of acceptable furnishings in the living room of a late sixties’ home. And though H.G. Lewis always pours a heapin’ ladleful of WRONG! in his films, the WRONG!ness is usually muted by the age of the film, by insanity as a plot device, or by NOT using Patty Duke look-alike’s to stoke pedophile’s fantasies. In Alley Tramp, we get an hour and a half of undiluted WRONGNESS.

Our Heroine is 16 and ready to experience the world of love and passion around her, in other words she wants to get laid. Now in a modern movie, she would be told that her feelings are normal but not to express them until she is ready, and then in very special moment/episode she gets the boy. In a sixties mainstream movie, the feelings would not ever be mentioned because woman don’t really get horny. In a HG Lewis movie, the girl’s carousing mother denies the girls’ reality completely and then makes out with Dad during dinner and then in the bedroom where our young lady watches them go at it which inspires her to seduce her cousin. So yes, The sky is a different color to HG Lewis.

The Schadenfruede Conclave understands it is supposed to call underage sex wrong in all circumstances. It understands, but it refuses. To take the morality of these movies seriously is as ridiculous as expecting a major sports star not to cheat on his wife. People between the ages of 14-17 have sex. Sometimes it’s wrong, sometimes it’s not. Just like when people between the ages of 18-130 have sex. What’s wrong in this movie is not the sex, but the deliberate call to youthfulness by the lead. It’s creepy. Way creepy. And the cousin thing is bizarre. We’re sorry to spoil the plot for you, but you needed to know, just in case you invited the Pastor over for Schadenfruede Tea. Don’t worry, there’s a lot more plot to inhale before this stinkburger is over! And a lot more WRONG!

One note on the mundane side. This movie has an extraordinary amount of great Kitsch furniture. The Standing lamps, the dining room chairs, the side lamps shades with the plastic covers; collectors will have a field day with this flick, if they can get past the constant stream of offensive behavior between the brick-a-brack.

Another mundane note for the linguist. This movie uses the word ‘jazz’ as a term for the act of sex. Our records show that this had not been used since the Tijuana Bibles porn comics of the 1920-1940’s. We believe this might be the latest sincere use of the word in this definition. Let us know if we are wrong.

Check out the WRONG score, on our Schadenfruede scale below. This movie should offend you. It is trying to offend you. And as its goal is to offend and not to entertain, it is an Exploitation (or Sexploitation) Film. It also does it very badly, which is what makes it a Schadenfruede Movie. But remember, we at the Schadenfruede do not judge, we only condemn.

On a final note, the credits are all pseudonyms. This is not unusual for these films, but here everybody used fake names, and they are outrageously French fake names. Even ole Herschel Gordon Lewis, the man who read Lolita and thought it would make a good musical, buried his head on this one.



SOME FUN STUFF PARTICULAR TO THIS FLICK ARE:

The Teen tantrum
Mom’s acting. Ouch!
The line, “ Unh-Unh, better than Mother!”


CLASSIC BAD MOVIE ELEMENTS:
Bad acting
Script is uh. . .underdeveloped.
Deliberate pointless stripping scenes
Bad camera work; stiff, slow to pan.

THE DRINKING GAME FOR “The Alley Tramp”

TAKE A DRINK WHEN:

When the Granny panties come out!
You see any lamp.
Constantly during any montage. Just, keep drinking.


CHUG A WHOLE BEER WHEN:
You see the teddy bear
When cousins kiss!!!
Any girl gets slapped.


IF ONE HAS TO WRITE A COLLEGE ESSAY FOR FILM CLASS

Steinem versus Freidan was not the first clash of Proto-Modern Feminism; it was the Mother- Daughter characters in “The Alley Tramp”. Herschel G. Lewis creates a stark black and white story of a young girl lead astray, or led to social relevance, by the excessive sexual imagery she is witness to. The incestuous elements of her passionate attempts to digest and synthesize the psycho-sexual energies released by the conflict of the hegemonic attitude of the Western Philosophies versus the rise of gender liberation becomes the spear point of realpolitik Buddhist political manifestation.

SCHADEN FREUDEN SCORE
Elements: 7(out of 10 )
Titillation: 4, but a creepy 4 ( out of 5)
Wrongness: 5!!!(out of 5)
Style & Funness: 4(out of five)
Extra points: 3 (out of five)
TOTAL: 23 ( out of 30 )

Will and Ariel Durant Tell it Like it Is!

FROM "The Age of Faith" by Will and Ariel Durant.

“A religion is, among other things, a mode of moral government. The historian does not ask if a Theology is true-through what omniscience might he judge? Rather he inquires what social and psychological combined to produce the religion; how well it accomplished the purpose of turning beasts into men, savages into citizens, and empty hearts into hopeful courage and minds at peace; how much freedom it still left to the mental development of mankind; and what was its influence in history.”


11.1.206
“Civilization is a union of soil and soul – the resources of the Earth transformed by the desire and discipline of men.”

11.2.217
“All religions are superstitions to other faiths.”

3.1.44
“Institutions and beliefs are the offspring of human needs , and understanding must be in terms of these necessities.”


I've been reading the Durants for about fifteen years now, and their observations on mankind and it's habits have blown me away. I am still processing some of the things they have shown me. Please let me know if these have any meaning for you, or if they ring false to you and your experience.



Thanks!

Beautiful Old Paper

The Beatles Attack

HI EVERYONE! HERE'S ANOTHER SAMPLE FROM EIGHT ARMS TO HOLD YOU. THIS IS FROM "PAUL IS DEAD". IT IS THE ONLY STORY THAT'S TOTAL LIE. ALL THE OTHERS ARE BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS, OR ACTUAL NON-EVENTS FORM THE BEATLES LIVES. NOT THIS ONE, IT'S PURE FANTASY. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.





Forty-eight hours later, the four men were crouched down behind several rusty drums of petroleum inside a make shift military camp deep within the Philippine jungle. Night had fallen and the camp was still and quiet. John Lennon was peering through a pair of enhanced vision binoculars, surveying the scene for the fifth time in three minutes.

“Time?” he asked in a whisper.

“Ten minutes til zero.” Said Paul.

‘Right. That’s our cue. Let’s go Ringo.” George hissed, as he and Ringo slid out of the cover, moving as silently as cats in the tropical night.

Minutes ticked by. Paul was silent. John was watchful. Without looking at him, John asked Paul, “So, you ready then?”

“Ready as steady, good to go, good to feel.”

“A bit jaunty, aren’t we?”

“Happy to be back, happy to be working. Worried?”

“A bit.” Said John, being honest.

“Didn’t I check out all right on all the fitness tests?”

“A-number-one you did. But still, some rusty old lab is no substitute for real action.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“That’s the truth. All right. Almost time.” John lowered his head and muttered softly to himself.

“You and your prayers.”, said Paul smiling. “You should have been a Priest.”

After a moment, John answered. “Amen. And you should be less of a heathen with all the dying you do. Now shut the hell up and let’s blow this joint. To the toppermost. . .

“. . . with the poppermost.” Paul finished, pulling a small black box with a red button out of his shirt. “Time for a fiendish thingie.” Paul said and pressed the button. Instantly, the camp and the surrounding jungle resounded with explosions. The night was tossed aside for the daylike intensity of the firey blasts that had erupted from several places all around the camp. Shouts of alarm could be heard, and some small arms fire.

“All right Paul, let’s go give God some business! Lock and load!!”

The two men leapt from their cover, their Thompson sub machine guns spewing fiery death as they went. The enemy soldiers were running and stumbling around, clearly in shock from the sudden and seemingly massive attack. John and Paul picked them off as they went, blasting apart the Philippine guerillas limb by limb, organ by organ. It looked like no one was organizing any kind of defense, which was the hope behind the explosions. Fires were burning and the smoke began to fill the camp, making it hard to see. The Beatles’ suits, however were covered with a special radium coating which allowed them to see each other in any kind of murky situation, thanks to special contact lenses. John looked behind him to see Paul throwing special hand grenades into several tents as he sprinted through the camp. John was busy picking off various targets, as they scrambled about, looking for someone to save them.

“Not today, you bastards. Not bloody today.” He pulled his trigger, and another man went down, spurting blood.

On the other side of the camp, Ringo and George were committing acts of equal barbarity in their own particular style. George was a fan of head shots while Ringo enjoyed the close up knife death. John began to come across soldiers with Ringo’s unmistakable work upon their necks and bellies. John had tossed aside his Thompson and was working with a couple of specially balanced Werther pistols, finishing off a number of writhing wounded and sending off a couple of soldiers who weren’t wounded at all. Soon, John was having trouble finding anything to kill. His radio ear piece buzzed with Ringo’s smooth drawl.

“Stars to Walrus. Quarry apprehended.”

John pressed his tie pin which controlled the miniature walkie-talkie inside his suit. “Copy that. Bring quarry to point Charlie. Rendezvous there. Walrus out.” John ran doubled over until he spotted Paul’s glow. “Hey there! They got him. Let’s burn and run!”

‘Right-o.”, responded Paul cheerfully. From his back pack he fished out four innocent looking canisters and placed them around the camp, setting the timers as he went. John followed, watching Paul’s back in case anybody had been inadvertently left alive. After the last fuse was set, Paul turned to John and said, “That’s it. Let’s make with the Beatlemania, shall we?” The two men turned and ran at top speed from the smoking ruins of the camp. Thirty seconds later, a near wall of flame shot up from behind them, sending a fireball of greasy smoke almost fifty feet into the air.

“A bit much, don’t you think?” asked the still running John.

“Almost.” Answered Paul, who then snapped his fingers, triggering an earth shattering ‘Kaboom’ from the direction of the ex-camp.

“Now, that’s a bit much.” Paul smiled. John did as well. Ringo and George loped into view, pulling along a handcuffed fat person in fatigues with a dirty sack on his head. George tossed the bagged man to the ground at John Lennon’s feet and looked at the flames in the sky.

“A bit much there, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do.”, said Paul.

“As long as we’re all in agreement.”

“That the bastard?”, asked John, nudging the bagged man with his foot.

“Yep. Found him in a tent filled with filthy lucre and whores.”

“Ah, the people’s General, eh? Well back to HQ for tea and whatnot, what?”

“Right!”

“Right!”

“Right!”

Three hours, one hike, two jeep rides and one fast helicopter trip later, the Beatles were in their Asian Headquarters deep under the Budokhan. Though less opulent, the HQ was fully equipped, along with an interrogation room, in which the Beatles’ current guest was ensconced. Ringo was currently in a debriefing session with the Gentleman who had a name, though none of the Beatles gave a crap what it was. The others were typing up their reports of the injection action when Ringo emerged, wiping his hands off of a cloth towel, talking in a silly workman voice.

“Well now, the transmission’s shot, but I think we can save the gear box for a few quid more, Miss.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Mechanic, sir.” Said George in a falsetto voice.

“Get serious.” Said John. “Anything?”,he asked Ringo.

“Yeah. Got three other locations of guerilla camps, already radioed to MI5 and a large lump of feces that I scared out of the bloke will be delivered to the Marcos’ by a very special air mail.”

“That’ll show the bugger not to mess with the Beatles.”

“It bloody well better have.”

“I’m not having that treatment again like we had at that airport.”

“Too bloody right.”

The anger of the Beatles faded away as the situation alarm flashed red. John ran for the televisorphonicon and flipped on the screen. Slowly fading into view was the large head of Brian Epstein, control executive of the Beatles.

“Good Evening, Lads.”

“ ‘ello Brian.” They all chorused.

“Good show in the jungle. That should keep Mr. and Mrs. Marcos in line for a while.”

“Let’s hope so.” Said John.