Daily Archives: August 10, 2009

Needless to say the cunt is full of shit. But that’s the “news” business as practiced by this country’s leading fascist propaganda organ. The cunt knows nothing of Thundercrack!, its director Curt McDowell it’s screenwriter/star (and McDowell’s ex-lover) George Kuchar it’s rep as a “Midnight Movie,” or my book Film: The Front Line — 1984 a chapter of which is devoted to Curt.


Wikipedia has this hilarious summary of the plot.

“The story begins during a thunderstorm. The house, which is shown in the opening shot, named Prairie Blossom, is very clearly fake which lends itself to comedic value. A caller, Willene Cassidy, pays a visit to the house owner, Mrs. Gert Hammond, who is very drunk. She insists that she make herself presentable before she answers the door. This takes a very long time and she makes a bad job of putting on her makeup. In an effort to get the alcohol out of her system she makes herself vomit by putting her fingers down her throat. Finally, having retrieved her wig from the toilet, where it fell during her vomiting, she is ready to greet her visitor. Willene is shocked at the dishevelled appearance of Mrs. Hammond and insist on giving her a bath. Willene explains that her husband is a very famous country music star, Simon Cassidy, whose music is heard on the radio during the later scene and is terrible. During the course of the bath, Willene unintentionally masturbates Mrs. Hammond. It is also revealed that Mr. Hammond died and that their son “no longer exists”.
As the night goes on, more and more visitors appear to shelter from the storm. Among them is Chandler, widower of the incredibly wealthy Sarah Lou Phillips. The House of Phillips owns the largest girdle factory in the United States. Their popularity is such that few American women are without one. Chandler relates the story of his wife’s death. She burned to death at a cocktail party, where there was a freak accident and her girdle caught fire. This caused burning rubber to envelop her head, and finally she fell dead into the swimming pool, her head steaming. This causes Chandler to have a bizarre sexual dysfunction. Although initially attracted to women, they would invariably prove to be owners of House of Phillips girdles. When they took off their clothes before sex, he would be reminded of the death of his wife and would not be able to maintain an erection. For this reason he had been having sex with other men, as they don’t wear girdles that would remind him of the horrific immolation of Sarah Lou Phillips. Rather strangely, during the telling of this story, Chandler is being fellated by Sash and has no apparent erectile problems.
Chandler and Sash, while in the basement, discover that Mrs. Hammond had pickled the remains of her husband and kept them in a jar. She tells of the death of her husband, who had been working one day in the grain bin and got covered with grain dust. A swarm of locusts dived on him to eat the dust and in the process devoured much of Mr. Hammond’s body.
During the course of the night, many of the guests have sex with each other in various combinations. There are a great many sex toys at Prairie Blossom. Mrs. Hammond explains that her son collected them. They would be delivered in plain brown packages which she would take to him with his morning breakfast. This causes her to wistfully repeat that he “no longer exists”.
One of the guests, a man named Toydy, becomes obsessed with finding the key to a locked door in the house. One of the female guests, Roo, finds the key but will not give it to Toydy unless he agrees to ejaculate in her mouth. Despite not finding her attractive, Toydy agrees and manages to stay aroused by watching Bond and Willene have sex.
The final human guest at Prairie Blossom, Bing, arrives in an agitated state. He had come from the circus in a vehicle containing a toothless lion, a near-blind elephant, and a female gorilla named Medusa. He explains to the group that Medusa is extremely dangerous and is likely to kill anyone she comes across. It is revealed that Bing himself is the cause of the apes murderous tendencies. His circus-mates, having got Bing drunk, convinced him to have sex with a prostitute. Despite her being hirsute, Bing is too drunk to say no. The next morning, he awakens to the pleasant feeling of being masturbated, though to his horror, the act is being carried out by Medusa, who now has a severe crush on him. She soon realises that her feelings are not being reciprocated and becomes enraged with him, and indeed all men. However, subsequent mistreatment by a female circus-worker causes these feelings to spread to women as well. The only way to calm Medusa is by giving her bananas.
Toydy, having watched Bond and Willene have sex, decides to lie to Bond in order to have sex with him. Toydy says that he has a crate of bananas and will give them to Bond if he will have sex with him. Bond considers this carefully, not having had a homosexual encounter before, but agrees on the strength that he and Willene (who has by now forgotten about her husband) can use the bananas to escape the murderous primate. On discovering the deception, Bond takes it in his stride and tells Willene he had to be broken in sometime. He jokes that if things don’t work out between himself and her, he can always try for her husband.
Meanwhile, Toydy having gained the key to the locked door earlier opens it with Roo to discover Prairie Blossom’s terrible secret.
By morning, the fate of Roo and Toydy is unknown to the others. Chandler and Sash leave together, as do Bond and Willene, though Bond tells her he likes to sleep around too much to really settle down. Bing has married Medusa, though for some reason, he wore the wedding dress. Mrs. Hammond, alone with the jar containing her husband, proposes a toast to love, and pours Mr. Hammond’s drink into his jar.”

Well that ain’t the half of it.

Albert Fung in Senses of Cinema puts it succinctly:

Thundercrack! concerns itself with a group of people who are stranded in a house on a hill. The house is inhabited by a woman who keeps her dead husband’s organs preserved in pickle jars and has her son locked up in a dark room because of his gargantuan testicles. Her visitors are no less strange, one man is in love with a circus gorilla that later appears at the house in a wedding dress to consummate their marriage. All the characters are very horny and so a lot of exploratative sex occurs. The inclusion of the sex scenes in the film are also interesting because they are literally incorporated into the narrative as the characters, involved in the sexual act or not, continue to keep dialogue happening. Frequently other characters will walk into a session and strike up a conversation, usually unrelated to the sex that’s going on. Consequently, the sex scenes as not presented as the main feature of the narrative as is the case in other films that contain explicit sex. Thundercrack! treats sex as casual and free, and is not used as a tool for submission or blackmail usually seen in other conventional narratives. It also has to be seen for its five-minute intermission, which is a looped sequence of a person vomiting continuously. At first it’s quite shocking to watch, but as it’s repeated over and over it allows for desensitisation and becomes quite amusing.

It’s the casualness with which sex is treated that makes the film so exceptional. But the fascist cunt knows nothing of that — going so far as to claim that acts of bestility are depicted when the “beast” in question is a man in a gorilla suit.

One wonders what she’d make of the ur-text from which Thundercrack! is derived.

Hey it’s the work a a “pervert” isn’t it?

Wish I had some Thundercrack! clips, alas.

But they would mean nothing to the cunt and her employers — who’ve elected to bring the corpse of Jesse Helms back to life. I trust y’all remeber Jesse and the “N.E.A.Four — within whose ranks one finds the lovely Tim Miller

It’s a neat trick, really. The N.E.A. gives Framline a grant, and among the orgs screenings Thundercrack! is scheduled. The fact that the film is 34 ears old and its director died in 1987 is of no concern to the cunt.

But it’s of great concern to me. Hate lying cunts.

And all who support them.

You’re much too nice with that cunt, Dr. Dean.

(A hat tip to Mr. Cooper and Mr. Bernstein)

Sing us out, Fats.