Together, Forever - Music and Movies

What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man, you  are B.A. Baracus.

Recently an imaginary friend of mine asked me an intriguing question: would I rather live without music or movies?  To which I said, "B.A. Baracus Khan that is an intriguing question."  But I found a fatal flaw in his brain-beater, what would movies be without music.  If I chose movies, then mood-altering scores would theoretically be erased from classic films.  Music-less movies would eradicate classics like West Side Story and "What Would Brian Boitano Do?" from South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut.  Either way the conclusion I came to on this question, flawed logic aside, was that I could not live in a world without music.  Exhibit A: No matter how terrible Vanilla Ice's music career was, it is Grammy Award worthy compared to the alternative.  Exhibit B: see Exhibit A.  Sure there are plenty of terrible actors who tried to cut it as singers, looking at you Hasselhoff this ain't Germany.  But Vanilla Ice's role in Cool As Ice portraying a James Dean wannabe who clearly was kicked in the head by a horse as a child, gives more than a few reasons for Hollywood to close its doors forever.

I'll try to leave Vanilla Ice alone for the remainder of this piece in exchange for making an actual point.  Movies and music are interrelated in ways other than just Patrick Bateman debating the latest Genesis cassette tape or the amazing soundtrack to Space Jam.  They touch on a number of similar artistic motifs like loneliness, rebellion, or defeating the performance-enhanced aliens from Moron Mountain in a game of basketball, and deal with these issues through very different means.  I took a moment to match up some albums that I view as classics with films that approach similar themes briefed in those albums and will release them in a series the next few days.  I can't promise they will match up like The Dark Side of Oz, but that is only because I don't know how to put an album on repeat on my iPod, so I couldn't test that theory.

Blonde on Blonde on Pulp Fiction

I would have preferred he titled this album Goofy White Guy Afro on Goofy White Guy Afro.

Uma definitely looks a little better pre-cardiac arrest in this one.

 













By the time this Blonde on Blonde hit the shelves Dylan had already alienated himself from those "fans" expecting him to strum his acoustic on the back of food carts for the rest of his life by going electric.  Dylan got more backlash for introducing this newfangled and wild technology called electricity into his act than Michael Jackson ever did for inviting children over for "Jesus Juice" "cock"tail parties (excuse the crassness but I couldn't refuse).  Blonde on Blonde signified his total transformation from pigeonholed strummer into full-blown bummer to the trust-fund folkies in Newport, but what this album really signified was a sprawling, innovative masterpiece.  Dylan drew from blues, country, and yes, folk music and paired that with surreal lyrics to create a multi-cultural music stew.  A mix-and-match concept also favored by Tarrantino.


Alluding to different areas of influence is a characteristic that has landed Quentin Tarantino with numerous high-paying movie deals and good-looking women that weren't drawn in by his rolling pan face.  Pulp Fiction and Blonde on Blonde are both pastiches that clearly reveal their creator's inspiration and their respect for their elders.  PF weaves together multiple characters and story lines together to form a pastiche within the pastiche.  I think I've just been incepted.  Also I said the word pastiche too much and now have a craving for quiche.  

Similarly, Dylan's album changes lanes that may seem erratic to some, but a master and commander like Bobby D guides the wheel beautifully like Steve McQueen, or for my lamer friends who never saw Bullitt, like Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) in Fast and the Furious aside from all the explosions and half-naked ladies.  Folkie ballads like "Visions of Johanna" and "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" lie in stark contrast with the unrestrained fun of "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35."  Would I be stretching it with a pun like "Every Uma must get stoned?"   

PF follows this same up-and-down margarita blending of genres and tempo by employing long and tongue-in-cheeky conversations between hitmen about hamburgers followed by ultra-violent general badassery by Bruce Willis.  Then mixed and repeated without the ball gag.  

Both these works were inspired by their creator's predecessors, then infused with their own diversified interests to give birth to a whole new type of cool.  The only missing link would be Harvey Keitel singing  the nonexistent backup vocals on "I Want You."

Check back tomorrow when I explain the relation between Wilco and robot movies. (p.s. it will not be about Real Steel)