Jim Jarmusch has another poem to read you.
Jarmusch made a doc about the Stooges. What more do you need to know?
Rend your rictus with screams of inchoate rage and explode my face with eldritch fire. I love you Stay Puft.
In which we discuss these two ’60s westerns oft-cited as the original acid westerns, and wonder whether “acid western” is indeed a genre.
There’s what a film appears to be and what a film is, and seldom the twain shall meet, alone, at night, in Iran, with a vampire.
There are few real artists left, suggests Jarmusch. And they are mostly vampires.