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Some time after January 2000

In this issue:    Steele Haze    Dracula    Ash Wednesday    The Year in Review    Fountain Society   and    Disturbing Music Videos.
Andy Warhol's Dracula ***1/2

It's not that I don't like Andy Warhol, it's just that I hate him and everything he stands for with a passion. It stinks of coffee houses and bohemians. Thankfully he didn't have a whole lot to do with this strange vampire satire apart from lending his name to the title, so I was able to watch it without fear of turning to a career of interior decorating, if you know what I mean and I think you do. Udo Kier plays the infamous count, a sickly and pale vampire who speaks in a ludicrous accent that only adds to the surreality of the film, provided that surreality is a word. For some reason, Dracula requires virgin blood to survive, so he goes off to Italy, which made sense at the time but doesn't really scan right now, where he meets a house full of incestuously lesbian sisters and a communist farmhand who's named Mario even though he couldn't be more American if he were wearing a Yankees hat and scratching his genitals. Sounds like fun already, doesn't it? It sort of has a distasteful grainy look to it, like 70's porn movies, and I found it difficult to watch without a scowl on my face, but then again I find it difficult to do anything without a scowl on my face. Anyway, all the lesbian sex and anti-capitalist ranting eventually builds to a ludicrously bloody climax more than a little reminiscent of the Black Knight scene in The Holy Grail, but by then you're so brow-beaten by the deliberate cult-ishness you don't really care. Still, like most cult-flicks, it's something you should watch at least once in your life, although like fellow cult classics Rocky Horror and Pink Flamingos, you'll never quite be the same.


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