American Mary Comes To VOD!

Coming soon to Video On Demand, as in two days, American Mary will be ready to see you! Please watch it, tell your friends/lover/coworkers about it, please tweet it (#AmericanMary), please tell anyone and everyone to check it out. Spread the gospel and ignite the wildfire! Please, let’s go fucking nuts this week about the VOD, and then fucking nuts for the theatrical in Canada & the US at the end of the month.

How the film does in North America will set a precedent for films like this, thank you for your support in showing that a film like this has an audience and you want to see more original horror. Thank you, from myself, Jen and Sylvia Soska, and every other person who worked their asses off on this feature.

Much love.

Little Miss Risk

971595_10151383853841356_1599198059_n

Posted in American Mary, Photos | Leave a comment

I Missed The Memo

At some point in the recent week, I seemed to have missed an important missive. I’m not sure if the rest of the world got it and I was too busy in my own little blood/glitter covered world to see it, but I have mounting evidence. I didn’t want to overreact, but it’s hard to ignore the facts: The whole damn world has gone fucking nuts.

Three points that I’d like to draw attention to that has made me at large notice this comes from my gym. All our treadmills face the wall, and rather than let patrons just stare at painted cinderblock, the management has kindly mounted a series of flatscreen televisions. As I usually work out in the morning, I like to catch the news, and set the televisions to BBC, CBC, and CNN so I can have the facts and a ridiculously sensationalized version of what happened. Like listening to three people tell the same version of events, you can more or less scrapbook together in your brain what ACTUALLY has happened.

The first event came from furthest afield. It wasn’t even a full feature on any of the programs, just something that zoomed along the news ticker at the bottom of the screen. : ‘Nigeria ‘Baby Factory’ suspect arrested’. That was it. No follow up, nothing. It was so odd, awful and random that of course, I got on the Internet to look this up for myself. What I found was the following: ‘The Nigerian Security and Civil Defence Corps has arrested one woman for allegedly selling babies, after the rescue of 32 pregnant teenagers from a maternity home where they were being kept against their will in Abia State.’ I’m pretty sure the phrase ‘what the fucking fuck’ it totally appropriate in this context. The problem is, I’m having a tough time finding anything more – was it a way to help the teenagers who might have been raped? Was it an abortive adoption scam? Are they paying teenagers to carry babies for rich, bored barren American couples? Nope. It’s about as fucked up as you think it is. Because just when you don’t think news can get stranger… BAM the next news item you see is about Ariel Castro.

This has gotten an insane amount of coverage. For those not au fait with what’s happened, Mr. Castro kidnapped, raped, beat, tortured, and terrorized three women for a decade. The women, and one six year old girl are now free. But as this went down in a suburban Cleveland neighbourhood, the folks in the USA are pretty shocked. With most stories that happen in your backyard the shock is fairly palatable. When the women became pregnant after he raped them he’d beat and starve them in order to induce miscarriages. I’m not entirely certain what was going through his brain, though I’d love a chance to go through it myself (preferably with about 20,000 volts of electricity) but how can someone be so far removed from reality be so close to us and our neighbours, you ask?

Well…

This brings me to my next news story of the day. May 4th in the DTES of Vancouver, a man attacked two women separately, hours apart. Both victims fought back and the suspect fled. The suspect is described as white, between 20 – 30 years old, and 5’6 – 5’10 tall with a medium build. Surveillance footage with an image accompanies this from Vancouver police. Now the other two stories are horrific, but like all things that happen at a distance, nothing is more offensive than when this happens in your own backyard. I myself, walked home from Perch Friday night through that area. To have someone be so brazen pisses me off.

So since I missed the memo that the whole world is slowly going kind of crazy, I’m planning on sending this one out from Desk Of Risk: Watch your backs. I will not cotton to this kind of horse shit in my city. I catch you, I’ll pull out your spine so I can see how yellow it is. I’m sure every man out there right now is just as pissed at you too, because now every woman will look at him sideways, despite that the majority of guys aren’t out to rape anyone. Trust me, you’ve a lot more to fear from THOSE guys than you think…

Take care of each other people. These are the exceptions, and not the rule, but they are terrifying. But I’m not about ready to let the monsters win.

Little Miss Risk

Posted in Miss Risk | Leave a comment

The Horror Brat Pack

So, every once in awhile there is a movement… the 60′s saw Janice Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, Joan Baez, The Who as part of the Woodstock festival and flower power era, we saw in the 50′s the rat pack of Sinatra, Martin, SDJ, Bishop and Lawford, and so on. There are unconscious collectives that just kind of start up and have interests that aren’t just limited to their genre, but are the instigators of something a little bigger. They are supportive of one another’s projects, they are usually creating something more than a scene but maybe a community, and will make people twenty years from now go, ‘Wow, what it must have been like with _____ back in the day,’ in the throes of nostalgia. They wind up leaving a lasting mark on pop culture by just doing what they do.

Having observed the fresh blood of the horror genre these days first hand, I feel like there is the onset of this feeling again. Are you feeling it too? You are? There is a generation of new horror filmmakers that is making not just fresh celluloid with their takes influenced by the old school horror genre, but now with the social media in the mix, creating a new horizon. By having much more of a wide berth to interact with their audiences, the dawn of the independent horror filmmaker is rearing it’s bloody head. Cutting traditional filmmaking costs without having to sacrifice their vision, there are many more options open to their filmmaking. And big studios are hopefully waking up and paying attention. The larger studios might crack an eyelid to see that throwing copious dollars down a spectacular failure is no replacement for a film that excites and engages an audience, that is creative and original, and more to the point, has the strength of the new horror tribe behind it.

Some of the names in this are, obviously for me, the Twisted Twins whom I found through Dead Hooker In A Trunk, but from them found James Cullen Bressack (wonder brain of the noveau found footage films), the boys of Astron 6 (Manborg, Father’s Day) Jason Eisener (Hobo With A Shotgun), Nightwalker Cinemas, all dedicated to bringing independent horror out there, and connecting with their fans and supporters. It’s a grand thing to see. Especially the interaction and support that the filmmakers give one another – shootouts, reviews, props, and of course those drunken moments of abandon and film fests. You know the ones, that come in the wee hours where everyone has arms draped over one another’s shoulders sloppily claiming, ‘I love you, man!’. It’s a beautiful thing to behold.

The aspect that maybe makes it beautiful for me isn’t that this is an exclusive thing. You don’t have to be a filmmaker to feel part of the fold. Where once upon a time these were exclusive, slightly competitive clubs, the doors are open. You’ll often see horror film aficionados tearing it up alongside their favourite directors or performers. The genre hasn’t changed: it’s the players attitudes. After watching the massive amounts of love from the old school (Savini, Cassandra Petersen, etc) to the new school (Soska twins, myself, Punks VS Lizards crew) at Vancouver Fan Expo, I’m confident as long as the fans support, the filmmakers will keep finding ways to entertain them, the ‘big boys of the studio’ be damned. It’s a beautiful love affair between artists, muses, and patrons.

And the honeymoon is nowhere near over.

Horror crew, I love you,

Little Miss Risk

Posted in Miss Risk | Leave a comment

Burlesque History Lesson: The Striptease

Lois De Fee, gigantesque stripper, gained national attention by a pseudo marriage to a midget.” – Theatre Collection, New York Public Library. Source: A Pictoral History Of Burlesque, by Bernard Sobel, published 1956

It’s that time of year again: Dressew is getting ravaged by burlesque dancers, people hosting out-of-towners are putting fresh sheets out, and everything’s getting a little more covered in glitter than usual. The 8th Annual Vancouver International Burlesque Festival is on the horizon. So, with that in mind, I’ve gone back into my vintage burlesque library to unearth a bit of those that came before us. The preceding and following are both from A Pictoral History Of Burlesque, by Bernard Sobel. The chapter I’ve chosen to post here is  simply titled ‘Striptease‘. Given that it was published in 1956, it generally deals with burlesque during it’s time in the USA in regards to stripping and it’s roots…

‘Burlesque, to the man who has never seen it, generally means just one thing: striptease. One of the unsolved mysteries of the theatrical world is who originated it. If conjecture is dependable this spectacle in terpsichorean disrobing sprang, like Venus, full-blown from infinity.

Fleshly imitations of the oncoming striptease nudity were bared to the naked eye as far back as 1847. At that time Living Models or Tableaux Vivants drew audiences to at least five New York theatres where they were regaled with bare bodies and posturings that resembled classical sculpture.

A Dr. Collyer was the original sponsor of these pseudo-aestheic exhibits, and the participants included shapely women “without a blemish” and handsomely moulded men, usually acrobats recruited from circuses. The titles of these tableaux were descriptive of their intention and included “The Three Graces”, “Adam’s First View Of Eve” and “The Explusion from Eden” – “scrupulous delineations in every detail to the original works.” These tableaux might have continued doing a lucrative business forever, had it not been for the advent of a new medium, the Free Love craze, which probably percolated through the USA by way if France and the novels of George Sand.

This craze swept the country as did the subsequent Companionate Marriage fad, and usurped the halls of the living models. In their place, billboards carried announcements that the same lovely models would now serve as esoteric consultants, a racket which police speedily terminated. Though the first series of ladies came to an ignominious end, the tribe bobbed up again from time to time. One manager offered “The Temple of the Muses” and “The Favorite of the Seraglio,” and Mme. Pauline’s troupe presented ‘The Rape of the Sabines.” At the conclusion of one performance, twenty living models appeared in a cotillion. To enjoy this divertissement, certain male enthusiasts came to the theatre “carrying,” according to critics, “prodigious opera glasses and pocket telescopes. The audience as a whole was made up of sensual old rakes, scoundrels around town and, yes, a few bankers and brokers.”

In one instance, the gentlemen left their seats and jumped over the footlights, forcing the terrified models backstage and into their dressing rooms. Again, the police locked the doors. For a number of years after, living pictures continued as a feature of what was called the circus “concert,” a brief variety entertainment, admission, ten cents. These models appeared on a circular platform surrounded by a circular curtain which, when drawn, showed men and women in “plastic poses,” their hair covered by white wigs and their bodies with some sort of liquid that gave them the alabaster chastity of marble. In 1893, the popular extravaganza 1492 revived the models in the legitimate theatre. Gold-framed against a black background, the Kilanyi tableaux vivants were described by one critic as “by far the most beautiful arrangement of human beings ever seen in New York.”

In the summertime man’s Promethean effort to get a peek at what was once called “women’s hidden charms” and “the secrets of the purdah” were being rewarded in other theatrical directions. An early pioneer was Mlle. Francoise Hutin, supposedly a member of the Paris Opera. Her debut took place at the Thalia Theatre in 1877. Rumours concerning the “indelicacy of her costume and behaviour” preceded her appearance, whetting the public appetite. And the members of the audience got what they expected, perhaps a little more. Evaluating her performance, one reviewer wrote:

At sight of her scanty drapery floating in the air and her symmetrical proportions, liberally displayed, the cheeks of the greater portion of the audience were crimsoned with shame and every lady in the lower tier of boxes immediately left the house.

The next exponent of nudity managed to detain her audience, all male. Her name was Mme. Vestris (1797 – 1856) and she came to America fresh from triumphs in her native England and in France. Once arrived, she earned the title of “the first woman in modern times to teach burlesque to profit from the beauty of her legs.” Mme. Vestris was a woman of many accomplishments. As a theatrical manager she set an example for decent and generous treatment of employees. She effected imported changes in scenic design and found time to appear before the footlights as a singer and dancer. Her specialty was “breeched” roles. Her personal life was crowded with incident. After divorcing one husband, she fell in love with a prominent actor, Charles James Matthews, and created a great deal of excitement by announcing that before marrying him she would “tell all.” ”What candour,” remarked a member of her company while another cried, “What a memory!” Another colourful episode had to do with her famous legs. In New York a young man was brought into custody, accused of the theft of her “legs,” which had been stolen from a sculptor, the only person for whom Mme. Vestris had posed. The legs had come into possession of a shopkeeper who exhibited them in his window “in a shameful manner,” the court was told, “thus causing Mme. Vestris great embarrassment.” ‘

As an interesting side note, some of the performers pictured in this chapter are the following, and I’m not sure if these names ring any bells for our folks at the Burlesque Hall Of Fame Museum in Vegas…

Ann Corrio

Hal Skelly and girls in Burlesque, a play founded on the leg show

Faith Bacon (of Ziegfeld figurante)

Clair Luce

Margie Hart

Bonnie Kerr

Sherry Britton

Rose La Rose

Carmen Bridges

Lotus Dubois the “Shadow-Girl”

Pat “Amber” Halladay

Val de Val

Jeanne Adair, the Mystery Girl

Eunice Jason

Sally Keith

Irma the Body

Virginia Kinn, the White Orchid

Sally Lane and her monkey Fifi

Princess La Homa

Cynthia The Silhouette

Mia Lynn

Georgia Sothern

Honey Michel

As a note, if anyone has a scanner they care to lend me, I’m happy to scan these photos for the BHoF museum and digital archives and see if we can locate any of these ladies in our contemporary times.

Hugs and hisses,

Little Miss Risk

 

 

Posted in Burlesque History Lessons | Leave a comment

Behind The Scenes…

A picture can oftentimes be worth a thousand words. However, in my case and experience, usually something completely ridiculous is happening off camera that makes the story the picture tells pales in comparison. Some examples of this is the processes we go through in which to get said image. Some idea are great (the sexy/gross Cheezies shoot I did with Shimona) and others while good ideas in theory kind of fail when it comes to their execution…

Splosher porn at it’s finest.

So once upon a time, when Shimona and I were shooting at Haus Of Boudior, we got this great idea. As I was ‘Queen Voodoo’ at the time of my touring troupe The Voodoo Dollz, we would turn my bed into a big voodoo love trap. Since I’ve got all the props/trappings for such a thing we started to set up in my room. I stood there trying to think what it was that was missing. As I tapped my stilettoed foot against the floor in thought it hit me – in a moment of Angel Heart-like inspiration, I realized we had no bones. Not a single nod to the voodoo enthusiasts use of osteology was in the frame. Clearly, this would not do…

Some six months prior to this, I’d had the stroke of brilliance that I was going to make fringe out of chicken bones. It was during NHL playoff season and every bar was stuffed with hockey patrons sucking bird flesh from bones. I don’t eat chicken wings, usually because there’s not enough meat for me, but I’d solicit friends and bring home many cartons like so many mass avian graveyards. My roommate was very tolerant that the lower shelf of our fridge was stacked with all these little cardboard coffins, but in the interest of being a good housemate, I figured I’d better deal with them before going out on the road again.

Now, keep in mind I’d never really attempted this before, but I knew enough to know to clean the remaining flesh off the bones, you need to boil them. What I DIDN’T know was you usually need to do this more than once. I took my freshly boiled lot and put them in a large metal bowl. Not wanting to keep monopolizing the fridge, and not having time to make my fringe before the next tour, I stuck the bowl on the floor of my closet… and kind of forgot about them.

Until that moment during the shoot. So I grabbed the bowl and dumped the contents onto my bed. It took me a moment to register what Shimona was upset about – she was shrieking something about maggots on my bed. I was in the midst of reassuring her that there were no maggots on my bed – until I stopped and got a good look. Sure enough, there were many little maggots maggoting around on my bedspread. I’m kind of impressed, in retrospect how well I dealt with it. Shimona was having kittens, so I suggested she step out and grab us a bottle of wine while I dealt with my little ecosystem. I threw out the bones and flushed the infant silverfish. When Shimona returned, the set had been struck and we decided to go with a more traditional boudoir-style shoot.

Looking at the image above, you’d never know that twenty minutes prior I had a nursery full of wiggly, wriggly bug infants on my resting place. But it does make for a good story. I did find that there was a GIANT wolf spider (whom I later named Mr.Manyfoot) who was living off of the maggots and seemed put out to have me remove his food source. Like any patron who finds their favourite diner all of a sudden closed, he wasn’t too pleased with me. But I’ll save our encounter for another blog.

All of this was going through my head last night as I sat with my head encased in plaster, trying not to fall asleep or vomit from exhaustion. In that perfectly quiet little world inside my skull where I could hear my lungs inflate and deflate, I wondered if anyone who ever sees the finished product ever truly appreciates the stories, scars, and happenings behind it. I suppose that they do, otherwise all those extras found in DVDs, behind-the-scene specials and fan culture wouldn’t exist as they do now…

And speaking of fan culture (you knew this is where I was going with this, didn’t you?) two major things… Tonight, at MONSTERPALOOZA there will be a FREE screening of American Mary, from the wonderful people at Screamfest. 10:30PM at the Burbank Marriot in CA if your there. And I’ll be joining the Soskas at Vancouver’s Fan Expo April 19/20 to answer questions, scrawl my signature across things (or draw raccoons on them) and make a general nuisance of myself. I’m ridiculously excited for both things, since I’ve never been to a convention of that nature as a guest, and it’s always been a dream of mine.

So, if you see me there, looking all chill and composed, don’t be fooled. Behind the scenes I’m SQUEE-ing, doing the Snoopy Dance, and hand clapping/air-humping. I’ll see you there.

Hugs and hisses,

Little Miss Risk

Posted in American Mary, Miss Risk, Random Banter, Upcoming Events | 2 Comments