A little glass vial?

That four days have passed since my last updated might suggest that I’ve forgotten about the legion of devoted readers for whose satisfaction I am responsible, but allow me to allay any suspicion that this is the case. I’ve just started a new job and will be beginning my sophomore year of college in a few weeks, and therefore I will be unable to post to OMGABAT with the frequency my immense following may have become conditioned to expect. Rest assured, however, this change will not be dramatic– I pledge that only very rarely will three days pass without my rendering an entry of some kind, and never will a pause in activity exceed a week’s length.

Today, I feel compelled to call the public’s attention to the upcoming release of a screen musical titled Repo!: The Genetic Opera. Articulating an explanation as to why anyone should care about any screen musical is a daunting task, but if anyone can carry out that task, I can.

I trust that the majority of individuals who posses a reasonable familiarity with contemporary cinema have experienced the exhilarating sensation of utter astonishment induced in a film’s audience when that film introduces a certain actor, song, or oblique reference in a context in which he, she, or it seems gloriously out-of-place, the sensation inspired by a young Clint Eastwood’s small role in Revenge of the Creature, or by David Duchovny’s voiceover work on the video game Thirteen. I project that Repo!: The Genetic Opera will embody the quintessence of this feeling. The following trailer will corroborate my assertion:

Less than a second into the preview, we observe that this rock opera is produced by Twisted Pictures, the enterprise responsible for gore-porn franchise Saw. Repeat the end of that sentence to yourselves: “this rock opera is produced by Twisted Pictures, the enterprise responsible for gore-porn franchise ‘Saw'”.  Even before the girl from Spy Kids appears, I’m shitting bricks.

Astoundingly, former child star Alexa Vega is the member of this cast least likely to elicit an audible ” ‘the fuck?”. Anthony Stewart Head of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame attempts growling vocals and dons on a glowing helmet. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ex-wife and originator of The Phantom of the Opera‘s lead female role, Sarah Brightman, conceals an alabaster face with a goffik hood. Nivek Ogre of seminal industrial band Skinny Puppy, singing opposite venerable horror player Bill Moseley, has someone else’s face paper-clipped to his. Though this was difficult for me to determine at first due the black wig she wears, the woman who conducts a drug deal with a man as he is ensconced within a dumpster is, in fact, Paris Hilton, whose appearance in this film nearly seems the result of some divinity’s sense of humor, as I can’t conceive of any reason for which anyone would involve themselves in Repo! The Genetic Opera beyond genuine interest or desperation, neither of which I imagine to be an influence on that particular wealthy heiress. Moreover, as goth as I am, I must note that David J and Daniel Ash of Bauhaus contributed to sound production.  

I suppose most would consider me remiss were I not to provide some elucidation as to this movie’s plot, but I’d rather just refer my readers to more absurdity: 

Check out that overdubbing on Paris. Hopefully, that this picture is only screening in a few theatres will prevent related merchandise from being sold at Hot Topic, so that I can still love it and be cool at the same time.

-Gothicus Maximus

PARTY TIME

In my extensive travels throughout cyberspace, I have encountered many a disturbing spectacle, but no to which I have yet borne witness can rival the expressible atrocity embodied in a particular four minute excerpt from director Camillo Teti’s 2001 work, Titanic: The Animated Movie. Yes, a cartoon feature, intended for children, based on what is perhaps history’s greatest maritime tragedy. This notion in itself is problematically ambitious, but not inherently flawed– I can conceive of a movie that treats the events in question with sufficient respect while retaining the capacity to entertain children. Teti, however, chooses to pursue an entirely different direction, one involving dogs that rap.

If I recall, the Titanic’s fateful voyage took place in 1912, which fact would indicate that our canine best friends are the true founders of Hip-Hop. Even beyond the disarmingly stupid idea that a movie about the Titanic should feature a dog performing an impossibly inane song in a style that would not emerge until at least 50 years from the time of the events the film depicts, the animation itself is abysmal at best and genuinely frightening at worst, exemplified by the inexplicably mexican banjo-playing mice, the poster reading “Rap Music” adhered to the brick wall before which characters suddenly appear at random, and particularly those eyes at around 1:28. 

To accentuate the discrepancy between Teti’s attitude and the nature of the subject he’s chosen to tackle, and in part for my own perverse amusement, I took the liberty of juxtaposing “Party Time” with a few scenes from James Cameron’s 1997 live-action Titanic, a somewhat more tactful piece of historical fiction.  

Even still, the most harrowing aspect of Party Time is not the horridness of the content itself, but rather that its existence deprives me of the ability to ignore the possibility that, within my lifetime, I may witness 9/11: The Animated Movie.

– Gothicus Maximus

I Exalt a Record Store

My impromptu visit to the Keystone State at its end, I arrive once more on my parents’ couch. Video documentation of the foresaid visit, which I suspect will be of no interest whatsoever to anyone outside of an extremely small group, will most probably be displayed here following its review by certain concerned parties, but in the meantime I’ll fulfill my obligation to mention Digital Ferret Compact Disks, whose storefront I visited while away. The enterprise of which I speak is a music retailer whose merchandise is exclusively goth or goth related, staffed by active members of the subculture who also organize a weekly club night each wednesday. That such a venture can sustain itself in this age of iTunes, when even those independently owned record stores far broader in their focus often flounder, is to me so genuinely miraculous as to bring an obsidian tear to my gothic eye. A store such as this is to goth kids what the Holy Grail might be to people who believe that the earth has existed for only 6,000 years, a shining beacon of hope for both goths disillusioned by the advent My Chemical Commercial Counterculture and record store enthusiasts disillusioned by the rise of the MP3. These folks, so dedicated as to painstakingly type out blurbs that synopsize Bauhaus for the benefit of the uninitiated, maintain and online catalog here and a MySpace page here. Go, but bear in mind that any support for Nightwish DVDs, Tim Burton claymation, or Combichrist demonstrated by those endorsed by OMG A BAT does not reflect the views of OMG A BAT.  

I kick ass at issuing praise almost as much as I kick ass at meting out ridicule, people should pay me to do this.  

– Gothicus Maximus