Corey Feldman Has Found His Calling

Alright, picture this.

It’s early June, 1985. You’re thirteen years old, sitting around in your Indiana Jones t-shirt, watching The Empire Strikes Back for the 90th time, and listening to Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” on loop. Maybe, you’re even snacking on a bowl of Cookie Crisp because it’s pure, unadulterated sugar and you deserve it after putting up with an entire year of sixth grade history projects and book reports. In this particular moment, your thirteen year-old self is at total peace with the world.

And then mom gets back from the grocery store and the moment is gone forever.

Within seconds, you’re being scolded for watching tv and playing video games all day when your room’s a mess and the yard is in desperate need of a trim. So you spend your entire afternoon, time that should be wasted in relaxation because you’re only thirteen after all, doing chores for a measly allowance that everyone knows is probably unlawful in the eyes of numerous child labor statutes. And right around the time your contemplating the formation of an adolescent union to demand fair compensation for one’s household duties, your older brother gets home from his shift at Sears (he’s just a stock boy, but he’s hoping to get bumped to register duty in a few weeks).

So you drop the hedge clippers (what’s the point of hedges anyway?) and run to catch your brother before he gets inside.

“Hey, did you get it?” you ask, eyeing the paper bag in his hand anxiously.

“Where’s the money?” he responds, pulling the bag away from your grimy, outstretched fingers.

Without hesitation, you reach into your pocket and pull out a crumpled five dollar bill.

“Take it,” he says, grabbing the money and tossing the bag in your general direction.

Ravenously, you tear open the bag while walking inside, revealing the new issue of “X-Men,” still in its protective plastic cover.

So you spend the next hour, hedge clippers unmoved from the lawn, pouring over the latest escapades of Professor X and his gifted pupils until your mother finally calls for dinner.

At the table, eating the most wholesome meal imaginable and definitely not a TV dinner, your brother lays out his plans for the evening. Nothing all that notable, he informs your parents of his intentions to see a movie with his friends on this fine evening. By this point, you’ve pretty much tuned out of the conversation, but are brought back to attention when your father remarks, “Why don’t you take [your name] with you?”

Immediately thoughts of Atari vanish from your brain, as you recognize you’re actually involved in this boring conversation now. Despite ardent protests from your brother, within the hour you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his Pinto on the way to the local Cineplex.

Upon arrival, you’re promptly abandoned by your brother and forced to attend a screening alone (tragic). Scanning the board to see what’s playing, you eventually settle on a title and proceed to appropriate theater, grabbing a box of Milk Duds along the way (they were out of Peanut M&M’s).

Roughly two hours later, you stumble out of the theater, armed to the teeth with fresh references like “Hey, you gu-uys,” “I’m setting booty traps,” and “Do the Truffle Shuffle!” You may not realize it at the time, but you’ve just watched the quintessential film of the decade.

And deep in your heart, you know that Mouth (AKA Corey Feldman), whom you vaguely recall from that Gremlins movie you watched a few months back, is a future star who’s going to produce stand out films for decades to come.

Flash forward to the present day.

Almost two months ago, that seminal classic, The Goonies, celebrated its 31st anniversary.

Looking back on the cast, it’s not tough to find a few actors still making their presence felt in Hollywood. Josh Brolin (Brand) starred in the Coen Brothers’ Hail Caesar a few short months ago. Sean Astin (Mikey) is the voice of Raphael on the current Lego Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles animated program. Martha Plimpton (Stef) is bouncing from sitcom to sitcom, currently starring on ABC’s The Real O’Neals. And, of course, Joe Pantoliano (Francis Fratelli) is still hanging around the fringes of the Hollywood mainstream, with over a hundred film credits to his name.

And where is the fast-talking, scene-stealing Corey Feldman now?

Well, in the last year he’s voiced a recurring character alongside Sean Astin in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and recently released a ridiculously insignificant horror flick, Intrusion: Disconnected. But more importantly, June 22, 2016 marked the release of one of the year’s defining musical masterpieces: Corey Feldman’s third full length album, Angelic 2 the Core: Angelic Funkadelic / Angelic Rockadelic.

Now, if you’re like most, you probably didn’t even realize that Feldman had released a new album a little over a week ago. I mean, the mainstream, musical elite like Rolling Stone and Pitchfork don’t want to advertise for independently released artists residing outside the music industry establishment. Thankfully, this champion of the people and musical connisuere has discovered the sound of 2016.

Sure, there’s been a plethora of great music through the first seven months of the year, but nothing quite encapsulates the modern psyche quite like Angelic 2 the Core: Angelic Funkadelic / Angelic Rockadelic (Man, what a great title).

It’s bold. It’s brash. It challenges the establishment. It’s also messy. It lacks a message. It’s erratic and senseless. It’s terrifying. It’s a plane crashing into a train that’s crashing into a bus that’s filled to the brim with rabies-stricken mongooses. It’s the musical equivalent of equine feces. It is 2016.

Want a taste of Feldman’s brilliance? Look no further than the lead single, “Ascension Millennium.” (Also, do yourself a favor and read the video description that was clearly written by Feldman himself). It’s chock full of lyrical brilliance, such as “Giving peace and giving love, like the feathers of a dove” or “Our souls are held captive no more, like opening a magic door.” Feldman’s poetic wordsmanship is akin to Lennon-McCartney in 1967. Adele’s got nothing on the former Stand by Me star.

Move past the lyrics, though. Listen to the Snoop Dogg collaboration, “Go 4 It!” With a piano note intro reminiscent of Wiz Khalifa’s “See You Again,” followed by a drop worthy of an unreleased Skrillex demo, the track is a banger through and through. Not a fan of 2012 hip-hop remixes? Try “Seamless,” a track featuring Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst and a horn-and-guitar riff that would feel right at home on a Bruno Mars album. If one thing is absolutely certain regarding Corey Feldman’s musical career, it’s that he’s not afraid of failure.

He’s also clearly averse to success, if his new album is any indication.

At least he’s got top notch album artwork…

Alas, the tale of Corey Feldman is just another in an incredibly long line of failed child actors. Drugs, death, a continuous battle with sobriety, and ultimately, a destroyed career.

But at least he’s still putting himself out there. Even if his latest project is ghastly enough to make one’s self physically ill with just a solitary listen, he still gets points for trying. However, please DO NOT BOTHER with this album unless you absolutely hate yourself.

This has been Stars of the Eighties: Where Are They Now? As always, if you don’t already know what happened to a long forgotten entertainer, assume they’re toiling away on something unworthy of anyone’s money or time.

The Lord of the Rings: NBA Edition

Ages ago, in a land foreign to all but the most elite, there was a time of prosperity. Across the farthest reaches of civilization, every man could work their way to success with perseverance and cooperation. But alas, all good things must end and evil forces did arise to destroy the land, led by an almighty King.

In the time after the fall of Lord Jordan’s Kingdom in the City of Wind and the end of the Kobe & Shaquille alliance in Lakertopia, the realm became a raging battle between multiple armies, all vying for the throne. While Lord Wade recruited the former King O’Neal, their rule was brief. The long simmering Army of the Spurs lashed out and seized control before retreating back to their desert kingdom. The suffering Lords Garnett, Pierce, and Allen then aligned to charge at the crown, before King Mamba, reinvigorated from his days as Kobe, resurrected Lakertopia from the ashes of desolation. However, through this constant shift in power in the land, a dark alliance had formed between Lord Wade and the most powerful force the kingdom had ever witnessed.

In the year of reckoning, 2012, the alliance led by the wicked King James came to power and the rest of the kingdom shuttered in fear, for the dark lord had arrived to dominate with a hand of sheer destruction. His kingdom, while not impervious to siege, had clearly brought James into a rarefied class of ruler.

And then, to combat the all-powerful James as he laid waste to the land, Prince Curry, in the long-forgotten Golden State, banded together with Lords Thompson and Green to concoct an army that could dethrone the omnipotent King James. Yet, when they attacked and swept across the land with a fury unbeknownst to the kingdom since the long-past Days of Jordan, they found that even their impressive Strength in Numbers was no match for the sheer presence of James and his faithful Cavaliers of Domination. Humbled and weakened by their defeat, the Warriors of Golden State found themselves at a loss and seemed ready to cede control of the land to King James for eternity.

That is, until the Warriors were approached by a powerful knight from the desolate wasteland of Oklahoma, who pledged to join their still-powerful army in another attempt to thwart the rule of James. However, in adding Sir Durant to Golden State’s forces, an unforeseen shift in the opinion of the commoners in the land did occur. Fearing a new dictatorship from the Warriors in the West, the commoners looked at Golden State, not as saviors, but as a new enemy equal to that of their mighty King.

And so it was that the peoples from across the land, regardless of long-standing tensions, began to organize in secret and develop a plot to destroy the powerful armies in the East and West.

But what men could stand up to such a task?

A Fellowship was proposed, uniting the people of the land in their quest for liberation. To prepare the travelers for their daunting journey, the council of the wise elected Carlisle the Graying leader of the Fellowship. The great wizard then set forth to scour the kingdom in search of the noblest and bravest to conquer the powers of evil.

Traveling to the cold North, Carlisle sought out Karl-Anthony Towns, King of the Wolves of Timber, to front the party. The young king, with a growing army of forces, gracefully accepted the Wizard’s request and began a recruitment stage of his own.

Meanwhile, Carlisle continued on his quest, traveling to the fallen Lakertopia. Arriving in the once-great City of Angels, Carlisle sought out the young warrior, D’Angelo Russell, an over-confident gunner with “ice in his veins.” While not an ideal choice for such an important task, Carlisle felt assured that the thirst to bring his people back to their former glory would motivate and focus the arrogant Russell.

Traveling on, the Wizard crossed many a land before arriving at the foot of another fallen empire, the Celtics of Bostonia. Meeting with the Celt High Council, Carlisle found a hard-nosed, gritty warrior with a nasty Napoleon Complex, Jae Crowder, a man not only with terrific work ethic, but with motivation to bring an end to the glory of Sir Durant of Golden State. While not overly fond of the youngster Russell, due to a long-standing hatred between the two peoples, Crowder put aside past differences to focus on the present threats throughout the realm.

Last, Carlisle traveled to the New City of York to seek the formerly great warrior, Sir Derrick Rose. Cast out of his rightful kingdom after many starved, disappointing years, Rose fled to York to train and band together with other past legends of battle, such as King Melo and Joakim of Arc. However, intrigued by the Wizard’s proposition, Rose agreed to meet the rest of the Company in a hope of finding an even better “super-army” to fight alongside.

Setting the final meeting for preparation in the October of Reckoning, Carlisle assembled his warriors in the mountains of Colorado under the lights of the oft-deserted Pepsi Palace. Armed with Russell, Crowder, and Rose, the Company awaited their soft-spoken leader, Towns.

Arriving at dusk, King Towns approached the Company with four small men from the Southwest. With much suspense, Towns unveiled his slight-of-stature soldiers as Men of the Sun, hailing from the arid land of Phoenix. One by one, the Suns introduced themselves: cousins Tyler Ulis, Devin Booker, and Eric Bledsoe of the Wildcat bloodline and close friend, Brandon Knight (ironically, not an actual knight). The men, none taller than even the smallest of the others in the Fellowship, were clearly young and unprepared for the harrows of battle, but King Towns insisted that what they lacked in size, they would more than compensate for with heart.

Setting out on their long journey across the land, the Fellowship traveled far and wide, dispelling attacks from the local tribes in order to reach the land of the King. Arriving in the long-forgotten city of Louis the Saint, the party was forced to disperse, much to their dismay, with Sir Rose succumbing to injury and sadly fading into oblivion, though leaving words of encouragement for young Bledsoe.

The Fellowship disbanded, Bledsoe and his faithful friend Booker proceeded towards the dark Kingdom of Cleveland with Westbrook, the saboteur, in close pursuit. Meanwhile, Ulis and Knight, abandoned from the others, were forced to travel lonesome southward, armed with little in means of defense. All the while, Towns led Russell and Crowder north to his kingdom to unite the Wolves of Timber and prepare for the oncoming army of Golden State.

Gathering and galvanizing the armies of Minnesota, King Towns and his followers marched south along the River of Mississippi, preparing for battle with the massive Warrior army, or Dub Nation, as it had come to be known.

Outnumbered and untested in battle, Towns’ army began to fear defeat as Lord Curry, Sir Durant, and the rest of Golden State’s forces rapidly approached. Little did Towns know that his tiny warriors, Ulis and Knight, had found refuge in the South, marching forward with the ancient, mighty army of the Spurs. Flanking the cannons and sharp-shooting archers of the Warriors army, Ulis, Knight, and the Spurs arrived just as King Towns’ defenses were about to collapse. Working in unison, a reinvigorated Towns and the Spurs soft-spoken ruler, Kawhi, were able to narrowly defeat the Warriors army, releasing the West from terror. With one army of darkness dispelled, the Spurs forces calmly retreated to their homeland of San Antonio, while Towns led the remains of his forces to the gates of The Land.

With the small Wolves army gathered at the Gates of the King, the almighty James directed his powerful forces, led by Dark Riders, Kyrie and Love, to conquer the debilitated and outnumbered forces of King Towns.

Yet in focusing on attack from the West, King James made a fatal mistake, ignoring events transpiring from the East. For Bledsoe and Booker, united by friendship and driven by duty, had traversed around the edges of Cleveland and approached from the vulnerable Eastern entrance. Storming into the Larry O’Brien Tower, where the Rings of James resided, a hobbled Bledsoe approached with an endgame at last in sight.

Alas, the saboteur emerged and overpowered the weakened Bledsoe, seizing the Rings for his own. Facing the possibility of a more terrifying ruler coming to power, slender Booker mustered his courage, drew his weapon, and unleashed a vicious attack on the beastly Westbrook. Seizing the Rings and vanquishing the tenacious and betrayed Westbrook once and for all, the source of King James’s power was stolen and his terrifying reign came to an end, though resounding finality could not be accomplished, as the primal power of James can never truly disappear.

Exhausted, the brave Suns returned to King Towns, whose forces were able to overpower King James’ following Bledsoe and Booker’s heroics. Faced with an opportunity to establish his own empire, the noble King Towns opted to divide the Rings amongst the land and promote prosperity throughout the realm before returning to his Northern kingdom.

And last, but certainly not least, the valorous and diminutive Suns returned to their quiet Phoenix while peace, parity, and tranquility reigned supreme.

The End.

The King of Crime: Martin Scorsese’s Legacy

I love the crime film genre. Pulp Fiction is undoubtably my favorite film of all time. The Godfather is an absolute masterpiece. Fight Club, The Usual Suspects, Fargo, Scarface, and on and on. For whatever reason, Hollywood and movie-goers adore stories about murder, deceit, and corruption. Whether it be detectives, mobs, heists, or straight up police thrillers, crime sells. And in the world of crime cinema, no director does it better Marty.

In a filmmaking career spanning over forty years, Martin Scorsese is a member of the most exclusive class of directors in the business. Nobody has consistently directed masterworks for as long as Scorsese, and there’s a very small class of directors with bodies of work that compare to the Italian-American genius.

No, Scorsese is not exclusively a producer of violence. From The Last Temptation of Christ to The Aviator to The King of Comedy, Scorsese has released plenty of highly successful films that avoid acts of the criminal persuasion. Hell, he even directed the film adaptation of Brian Selznick’s “The Invention of Hugo Cabret,” or Hugo as it’s better known. Scorsese has the chops to direct a solid film about almost anything (I’d love to see a Scorsese rom-com, personally), but he’s at his best when the subject matter creeps toward the decrepit.

Scorsese on the set of “Taxi Driver”

The general public seems to agree. Say what you will about IMDB’s rating algorithm, but the facts don’t lie. Of their esteemed Top Rated 250 list, six films are Martin Scorsese productions. Four of those films fall under the crime genre and the other two are borderline criminal in their own rights. Among his contemporaries, the Coen Brothers and Quentin Tarantino are the only arguable competitors, but neither have the volume of top-notch work to match Scorsese.

Where’s the evidence, you may ask? After all, I’ve just piled on praises for Scorsese without even referencing any of the films that this argument is built upon. Well, the answer is two-fold. One, I’m making this case based on my personal beliefs, mostly, with the occasional public opinion statistic to back up my assertions. Two, I’m obviously going to discuss his films individually. After all, what kind of fan would I be if I couldn’t point to specific moments of specific films that form my own opinion?

Let’s start with the first major production of Scorsese’s career and the film that kickstarted Robert De Niro’s extensive career. Released in 1973, Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets was akin to Michael Jordan’s rookie season. A glimpse of greatness, but nothing remotely close to his forthcoming peak. Mean Streets, with De Niro and Harvey Keitel, established the filmmaking style that would lead to Scorsese’s immense success. Intertwining crime, personal relationships, and religion into a neat package, Scorsese’s first crime foray was brief and unpolished, but full of promise.

“You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets.”

For one, Mean Streets introduced the rock and roll soundtrack that set apart Scorsese from his peers. An avid music lover who recently produced HBO’s Vinyl, Scorsese essentially introduced the film industry to the Rolling Stones as soon as De Niro walked into a bar clad with two women as “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” drowned out the sounds of the bustling, rowdy establishment. Ingraining rock music into the crime film genre, Mean Streets was Scorsese expanding the borders of the genre for essentially the first time since Steve McQueen. He also flashed some of the film techniques that would come to define the most memorable moments of his most popular films, including the unparalleled use of tracking shots and sound editing. It’s no Godfather, but Mean Streets is the personal film that Scorsese needed to find his voice as a director.

Three years later, Scorsese and De Niro teamed up for the minimalist masterpiece that transformed the pair into the premier dynamic duo in the film industry. Moving away from the joking, fool of a character in Mean Streets, De Niro’s performance in 1976’s Taxi Driver was the superstar solidifier. Sure, playing young Don Corleone in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather: Part II was the role of a lifetime for De Niro, but working with Scorsese for the second time was where De Niro officially became the face of crime film.

“Here is a man who stood up.”

Straying from the flamboyance that allowed De Niro to overshadow the main character in Mean Streets, the mentally unstable Travis Bickle proved that young De Niro could handle heavier subject matter with more complex characters. Every moment in the film, from the interview securing his taxi driver position to the pained, unbearably desperate phone call to Cybill Shepherd’s Betsy, established a deeply broken, mentally fragile protagonist who doesn’t bother to earn the sympathy of the viewer. Scorsese’s intention in Taxi Driver isn’t to make Travis Bickle a likable, sympathetic character; he only cares about examining the emotional state of a veteran unable to readjust to civilian life. The famous “you talkin’ to me?” scene may carry the most memorable line, but it serves to masterfully illustrate the way Scorsese uses intimate moments within his films to establish the true story.

A fourteen year hiatus from the genre, spanning the entirety of the 1980s, did nothing to depreciate Scorsese’s brilliant handling of violent subject matter. If anything, 1990 watched the famed director release the Sistine Chapel of his career. Goodfellas, another De Niro classic that brought back Joe Pesci from his earlier role in 1980’s Raging Bull, is Scorsese pulling out all the stops. From Ray Liotta’s narration throughout the film, a Scorsese staple, to the blend of humor and violence brought by Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito to the incredible nightclub tracking shot, Scorsese’s brilliance is on full display. However, it’s the dead body montage set to Derek & the Dominos’ “Layla” that truly illustrates the trademark mix of gore, emotion, and tongue-in-cheek devastation that so many Scorsese classics work to capture.

“You understand? We were good fellas. Wiseguys.”

1995’s Casino, another De Niro and Pesci pairing, is somewhat of a victory lap for Scorsese and his longtime “partner in crime.” The last film pairing Scorsese and Robert De Niro, Casino brings together every trick in the filmmaker’s extensive book. The intertwined narration of De Niro and Pesci over the first forty odd minutes of the film is a directorial gimmick taken to the extreme that overlays an overlong montage of short clips to provide exposition. The beginning of the movie is Scorsese bucking the established filmmaking norm simply because he can. You say avoid expository dialogue, he’s going to take exposition to the extreme. Honestly, the storyline and cast repetition does invoke Goodfellas to a point, but the directorial extravagances allow for Casino to breathe on its own and establish a singular legacy, while simultaneously representing the end of Scorsese and De Niro’s partnership to date.

“From now on, I want you to put an equal amount of blueberries in each muffin.”

So what? Scorsese worked with a talented actor in Robert De Niro to achieve his success, one might surmise.

Sure, but finding talented actors for his films should not detract from the brilliance of Martin Scorsese. Plus, as evidenced by his films since Casino, De Niro was not carrying Scorsese in any sense.

Picking up post-Titanic Leonardo DiCaprio, the Scorsese machine kept right on chugging in 2002. Releasing arguably his worst crime film (which is still damn good, for what it’s worth), Gangs of New York introduced Leonardo DiCaprio to the world of true A-List celebrities while simultaneously reintroducing Martin Scorsese to the mainstream after a seven year absence from a true blockbuster.

Yet it was his third offering with DiCaprio (and second in the crime genre) that finally brought home Martin Scorsese the ultimate prize, the Academy Award for Best Achievement in Directing. Assembling an all-time cast, including DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen, and Alec Baldwin, The Departed delivered Martin Scorsese the award for best director after nearly 35 years in the business. What took so long?

From the beginning voice over with Jack Nicholson’s mob boss Frank Costello, it’s obvious Scorsese is working at peak creativity levels. With the entire scene set to the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” (imagery that is forever associated with that song in my mind), debauchery and evils are presented as sleazy with a hint of class, an almost impossible balance to strike. The use of repeated shock cuts randomly cutting off non-diegetic music is both jarring and brilliant on the part of Scorsese. The game of cat-and-mouse between DiCaprio and Damon is ridiculously well-written, but the true brilliance of Scorsese is his willingness to accept new ideas. Letting Jack Nicholson make alterations to his character, including an executive decision to throw cocaine on strippers in one scene, is what truly elevates this crime flick to the upper class of the genre. I could go on, but The Departed is one crime film that must be seen to be fully appreciated.

From there, Scorsese got ahold of the executives at HBO and created one of the cable service’s greatest television successes, Boardwalk Empire. Executive producer for one of the most successful crime television shows of all time is pretty impressive, even if Boardwalk Empire is still overshadowed by fellow HBO products like The Sopranos and The Wire. If anything, the foray into premium television simply proved that Scorsese brilliance is suitable on any platform.

Lastly, Scorsese most recent box-office smash is the epitome of film decadence. Addressing white collar crime for the first time in his long career, The Wolf of Wall Street is an over-the-top three-hour victory lap for DiCaprio and Scorsese. Emphasizing the comedic aspects of the film, The Wolf of Wall Street is jet-fueled, quaalude-infused wackiness based on a true story, like most of Scorsese’s work. From an impaired DiCaprio trying to open a car door with his foot to Matthew McConaughey pounding his chest while humming, Scorsese doesn’t shy away from the absurd. I mean, Scorsese has DiCaprio directly address the camera like he’s Ferris f’n Bueller. If Casino was essentially a victory lap, The Wolf of Wall Street is Martin Scorsese telling the filmmaking community that he can do whatever he wants. It’s the rare freedom that so few directors ever get their hands on.

“Good luck on that subway ride home to your miserable, ugly wives!”

Martin Scorsese has a resume befitting of a man who need never work again. And yet, he’s currently got projects lined up for ages, including a Jimmy Hoffa-inspired film set to bring De Niro and Pesci back into the fold, as well as reintroduce Al Pacino to the crime film world, and a project posing DiCaprio as a serial-killing doctor in 1893. He’s 73 and showing no signs of slowing down. And you know why? Because true geniuses have a duty to share their talents with the world for as long as they shall live.

Already the master of the crime film genre, Martin Scorsese is going to keep making films until the day he dies. And we, as an audience, do not deserve this good fortune.

To paraphrase Sam “Ace” Rothstein in Casino:

“There are three ways of doing things around here: the right way, the wrong way, and the way that Martin Scorsese does it. You understand?”