Reflections on ... David Hurles of Old Reliable (12 September 1944 – 12 April 2023)

“David Hurles, the photographer and filmmaker whose models were plucked from the obscurity of the seedy streets and onto rolls of film shot for his small company Old Reliable, has died today, April 12. Hurles’ longtime friend, author and editor Dian Hanson announced his passing to The Bob Mizer Foundation this afternoon. Hurles acted as the sole employee of Old Reliable, a pornographic media company that he founded in the 1970s in San Francisco. Prior to its founding, Hurles shot his first professional model in 1968. As a photographer, Hurles focused his lens on the unsavory dregs of society – notably, tattooed, shaggy-haired, and sneering drug addicts and convicts – a far cry from the cleaner-cut models who had appeared throughout the magazine pages and film loops until that time ...” 

/ From the latest Bob Mizer Foundation e-newsletter dated 14 April 2023 / 

“Danger is a turn-on for Mr. Hurles. Marines aren’t butch enough or scary enough. No, David likes psychos. Nude ones. Money-hungry drug addicts with big dicks. Rage-filled robbers without rubbers. And of course convicts – his ultimate Prince Charmings. In the last three decades David Hurles has picked up rough trade off the streets of California, out in front of Doggie Diner and Flagg Brothers shoes in San Francisco and the Oki-Dog in Hollywood. Bars like the Old Crow and the Spotlight were his own personal Schwab’s Pharmacy. Only David wasn’t looking for an unknown Lana Turner in a tight sweater to turn into a star; he was looking for handsome criminals … Hurles took these outlaw studs, who may have never even realized they could be sexy, to his home like a fool-saint, paid them money and photographed them for your sick, self-loathing enjoyment. Old Reliable models snarled at the camera nude. They gave you the finger, bent over with their assholes showing, looking through their legs. And in what became Mr. Hurles’ signature photo pose, they smoked a big steaming cigar, nude, with an angry leer … All glaring into the camera looking like they wanted to rough you up … Without these pioneering Old Reliable photographs, homoeroticism in the art world couldn’t have existed. Robert Mapplethorpe was a pussy. Mr. Hurles is the real thing.” 

/ From the book Role Models (2010) by John Waters / 

Adieu to maverick “outsider pornographer” David Hurles (12 September 1944 – 12 April 2023). The gentle-faced model above is not typical of Hurles’ oeuvre, but it’s the only image I could find safe for social media! To really explore Hurles' work, this lovingly maintained blog is an essential starting point. 

Reflections on ... lemon and coconut muffins

 

I’ve been on a baking binge lately (and sadly, I have the waistline to prove it). My manager at work is running in the London Marathon soon and held a bake sale at the office to fundraise. I volunteered to contribute – and made these fool-proof old favourites: lemon and coconut cupcakes. (They make such a huge quantity of cupcakes I could “donate” some to the bake sale and keep most of them at home!). As a public service, here’s the recipe. 

250 grams softened unsalted butter (as in: the whole package!)

1 tablespoon grated lemon zest (I ignore that and just use the zest of the whole lemon without measuring)

1 cup caster sugar

3 eggs

2 ¾ cup of desiccated coconut (I ignore that and chuck in the whole package)

2 cups self-raising (NOT plain) flour

1 can coconut milk 

Preheat oven to 180-degrees 

Cream butter, lemon zest and sugar in large bowl with electric mixer until fluffy. 

Add and beat the three eggs one by one. Gradually alternate between mixing in the can of coconut milk and the flour until all combined. Finally, add the bag of desiccated coconut and combine. Spoon batter into lined muffin tin. It makes 24 muffins – a huge amount! Bake for approximately 45 – 50 minutes until the tops are pale gold, firm in the middle and a stick of spaghetti comes out clean. (That’s a Nigella Lawson tip: using spaghetti as a cake tester).

 

The Next Lobotomy Room Film Club ... Secret Ceremony (1968) on 20 April 2023

 

Prepare to be comprehensively freaked-out this April when the free monthly Lobotomy Room film club (our motto: Bad Movies for Bad People) presents the peculiar London-set late 1968 psychodrama Secret Ceremony! It's precisely the type of film John Waters would describe as a “failed art movie” – but that’s one of my favourite genres, and if you’re going to make a failed art movie, make it this wildly baroque, inscrutable and claustrophobic! 

Screen diva Elizabeth Taylor (costumed by Dior and coiffed by Alexandre de Paris) stars as Leonara, a blowzy middle-aged prostitute tormented by the death of her young daughter by drowning. One day profoundly disturbed poor little rich girl Cenci (post-Rosemary’s Baby Mia Farrow at her most waif-like) latches onto her, decides Leonara represents the return of her recently deceased mother and drags her back to her haunted art nouveau mansion in Holland Park. Once installed there, Leonora soon clashes with Albert (Robert Mitchum), Cenci’s sexually predatory stepfather. From there things just get progressively more twisted … (To put Secret Ceremony into context: the same year, Taylor and director Joseph Losey collaborated on the even more berserk Boom! (1968), the flop film based on a Tennessee Williams play - another movie I love!). 

So, won’t you join us to watch Secret Ceremony downstairs in the glittering surroundings of Fontaine’s bar in Dalston on Thursday 20 April 2023? Perhaps the £6 cocktail menu will help make Secret Ceremony more comprehensible!  Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email bookings@fontaines.bar to avoid disappointment! The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered on time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest.

Read more about Secret Ceremony here. 

Reflections on ... Pearl (2022)

Recently watched: Pearl (2022). Spare a thought for teenage newlywed Pearl (Mia Goth). It’s 1918, the US is plagued by a Spanish influenza epidemic and her husband Howard is away fighting in Europe in World War I, leaving her toiling on the isolated rural farm of her austere German immigrant parents, disabled father (Matthew Sunderland) and sternly disapproving mother (Tandi Wright). Pearl aspires to be a dancer and her sole consolation is going to the cinema. But she also displays hints of madness and a capacity for violence. On the farm, pitchforks and axes are readily available. How can someone so outwardly cherubic be so frightening? 

Pearl lovingly recreates the lush orchestral score and gorgeous faux retro Technicolour (with - inevitably - a focus on the colour red) synonymous with Old Hollywood. Director Ti West stylishly evokes The Wizard of Oz, Psycho and hagsploitation classics What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and What’s the Matter with Helen? (Pearl is a prequel to West’s excellent earlier film X (2022), but you don’t have to have already watched X to appreciate Pearl. In fact, it might be interesting to watch Pearl before watching X!). 

And boy does Pearl cement angel-faced Mia Goth as a megastar. I venerate her as the Barbara Steele de nos jours. (Or as The Guardian’s savvy critic Peter Bradshaw declares, “Goth is now the Judy Garland of horror”). She also possesses the gawky, pop-eyed charm of Shelley Duvall in films like Thieves Like Us (1974) and The Shining (1980). Her performance here equals Toni Collette’s in Hereditary (2018). (And like Collette's you'll wonder how this didn't get Oscar nominated). Goth has two particularly remarkable moments (these aren’t spoilers!). When Pearl’s well-intentioned sister-in-law Mitsy (Emma Jenkins-Purro) unwisely encourages Pearl to unburden herself and tell her what she’d confide to Howard if she could, it unleashes a torrential soliloquy of pain, self-loathing and alienation – which gradually becomes a serial killer’s lament. Later, in extreme close-up Goth maintains a deranged frozen rictus grin until her eyes well with tears, her lips quiver and a vein in her temple visibly throbs. The concluding macabre feast of suckling pig will haunt you forever. Pearl is a modern horror masterpiece!

/ Mia Goth snapped at the premiere of Pearl at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival /

Reflections on ... The Horror Show! Exhibit at Somerset House

 

/ The entrance to the exhibit at Somerset House suggested a gaping demonic mouth. Come on in! All photos by me unless stated otherwise! / 

As every UK resident knows, contemporary Britain is a total hellscape. The recently closed exhibit The Horror Show! A Twisted Tale of Modern Britain (27 October 2022 – 19 February 2023, co-curated by the duo of Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard and Claire Catterall) embraced that concept and ran with it! 

From the Somerset House website: 

“The Horror Show! is a landmark exhibition that invites visitors to journey to the underbelly of Britain’s cultural psyche and look beyond horror as a genre, instead taking it as a reaction to our most troubling times. Featuring over 200 artworks and culturally significant artefacts from some of our country’s most provocative artists, the exhibition presents an alternative perspective on the last five decades of modern British history in three acts – Monster, Ghost and Witch. Recast as a story of cultural shapeshifting, each section interprets a specific era through the lens of a classic horror archetype with thematically linked contemporaneous and new works.  

The exhibition offers a heady ride through the disruption of 1970s punk to the revolutionary potential of modern witchcraft, showing how the anarchic alchemy of horror – its subversion, transgression and the supernatural – can help make sense of the world around us. Horror not only allows us to express our deepest fears; it gives a powerful voice to the marginalised and society’s outliers, providing us with tools to overcome our anxieties and imagine a radically different future.” 

/ Pal and I at The Horror Show! /

Anyway, the exhibit was a dense, swirling nightmarish swoon that cast a spell on me. As The Guardian’s art critic Jonathon Jones concluded, The Horror Show! was a “witch’s cauldron of an exhibition”, continuing, “There is another Britain, this exhibition convinces you, that exists only as a web of imagination, a phantom realm that defies the reality of the everyday like a ghost channel taking over your TV.” 

The Horror Show! was split into three themes: Monster, Ghost and Witch. Each section had its own unsettling “theme tune” / soundscape, designed to induce maximum dread: “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” by Bauahaus (Monster), “On the Wrong Side of Relaxation” by Barry Adamson featuring the panicked whispers and wails of Diamanda Galas (Ghost) and finally, Mica Levi’s “Lipstick to the Void” from the Under the Skin (2013) soundtrack (Witch).

 My personal highlights: 

The Horror Show! pretty much incorporated all my favourite people and cultural movements (Siouxsie, Jordan, Leigh Bowery, Public Image Limited, Princess Julia, horror movies, punk music) so it was virtually impossible for me not to be enthralled. 

Any time I see old Vivienne Westwood /Malcolm McLaren punk apparel from their SEX boutique in an exhibit, it's like witnessing sacred religious artifacts! 

Sue Webster's customized Siouxsie black leather biker jacket (above. Via). 

“Return of the Repressed3” by Jake and Dinos Chapman 

I could have watched the seemingly endless loop of clubbers arriving at club night Kinky Gerlinky from beginning to end. My boyfriend Pal used to be a Kinky Gerlinky regular, and I was hoping he might appear! He didn’t but I did ask him to describe the wildest outfit he ever wore to Kinky Gerlinky. Totally blasé, Pal recalled, "Oh, one time I dressed as a zebra. Another time, a friend's sister was pregnant, so I made a mould of her tits and pregnant belly and then covered it in flesh-coloured rubber and turned it into a bodysuit and added a wig to the crotch, so it looked like wild pubic hair ..." (That sounds almost like Silence of the Lambs!). 

The footage of members of the public responding to drag terrorist / performance artist Leigh Bowery displaying himself as an exhibit at the Anthony D'Offay Gallery in in 1988 (including some famous people like bad boy of dance Michael Clarke and Brix Smith of The Fall). 

Loved seeing the giant portrait of a pouty young Princess Julia (middle) by Derek Ridgers projected on the wall. 

/ One of Leigh Bowery's costumes /

/ Exterminating Angel by Pam Hogg  /

The whole video installation room devoted to the infamous BBC 1992 broadcast of Ghostwatch, complimented with disturbing music clips from 1990s acts like Prodigy, Portishead, Tricky and Aphex Twin. (The day Pal and I visited, there was a surprising amount of children present in what was most definitely a not “child friendly” exhibit. I truly hope the Ghostwatch room gave them nightmares!). 

Kerry Stewart’s “The Boy from the Chemist is Here to See You” (1993) (Above). 

The Witch room made me reflect on what a totemic film The Wicker Man (1973) is in British culture. In the early seventies it flopped big time and was little seen, and yet The Wicker Man went on to have so much influence, open a whole can of worms and invent "rustic horror" as a genre. Also represented: Nicholas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now (1973) and The Witches (1990). The spiked “self-flagellation” / punishment shoes from Saint Maud (2019). (If you haven’t seen Saint Maud, it’s the most significant British psychological horror film of recent times). The bridle scold from She Will (2021). The oeuvre of maverick British director Ben Wheatley. 

Cathy Ward’s corn husk dolls entitled "Home Rites" (2009) (pictured above) were very Blair Witch Project. 

/ Puppet from the 2018 British horror film Possum / 

And I loved that the finale was a darkened red-lit “decompression room” but rather than offer any consolation, it was a disturbing experience eerily soundtracked by “We Wax. We Shall Not Wane” by Gazelle Twin, featuring actress Maxine Peake channeling the tortured psyches of women accused of witchcraft!   

/ Above: Pal and I at The Horror Show! /

Honourable mentions: Juno Calypso. Helen Chadwick. Gavin Turk’s self-portrait as Sid Vicious. Jamie Reid. Rachel Whiteread. Derek Jarman.  

This is a pretty superficial trawl through a fascinating exhibit! I wish I'd taken more photos. (I tried to go back again before The Horror Show! closed, but it didn't work out). 

Further reading:

The analysis by Jonathan Jones in The Guardian. 

My friend from New York, gal-about-town Emily Colucci swept through London earlier this year and visited the Horror Show! while she was in town. Read her in-depth and perceptive account in the essential Filthy Dreams blog. 

Reflections on ... Mae West: Dirty Blonde (2020)

 

/ Mae West in 1928 when she was appearing in her play Diamond Lil (which she later adapted for the screen as She Done Him Wrong (1933)) / 

Recently watched: the 2020 documentary Mae West: Dirty Blonde, a breezy, stylish and concise (only 52-minutes) valentine to cinema’s high empress of sex. Among the hipper than usual talking heads:  Dita Von Teese, Lady Bunny, Natasha Lyonne, Candace Bergen, gossip columnist Rona Barrett, Sex and the City’s Mario Cantone and the late Andre Leon Talley (who disappoints by lamely suggesting West foreshadowed “women who dare to be sexy” like Cher, Madonna, Rhianna and Beyonce. Let’s be grateful he didn’t include a Kardashian), plus film historians Jeanine Basinger and Molly Haskell. (And Bette Midler is an executive producer). 

/ Portrait of  Mae West by George Hoyningen-Huene, 1933 /

As Dirty Blonde underlines, West was already 40 years old when she made her film debut in Night After Night (1932). By the time she arrived in Hollywood the Brooklyn-born daughter of a bare-knuckle prizefighter and corset model turned vaudeville performer turned censor-baiting playwright (one review of West’s scandalous 1926 play Sex wails that it’s “a monstrosity plucked from garbage can, destined for sewer!”) had already amassed over three decades of show biz experience. This gave West the confidence to demand creative autonomy from Paramount, and her first starring vehicle She Done Him Wrong (1933) was such a smash it saved the studio from the brink of bankruptcy.

/ Mae West when she appeared on The Red Skelton Show on 1 March 1960 /

You can’t help but get the impression directors Sally Rosenthal and Julia Marchesi (understandably) yearn to hail the tough, independent West as a protofeminist, but she resists that interpretation. (They include audio of West explaining to an interviewer she’s always preferred male company and finds other women hard to relate to).

/ West with young male starlet Tom Selleck in 1970 when they both appeared in the film Myra Breckenridge /

Highlights: Dirty Blonde nicely scrutinizes the complicated depiction of Black maids in West’s 1930s films. While Talley notes that they are kindred spirits and co-conspirators who joke with West and have romantic lives of their own, someone else argues these characters speak in a “Hollywood version of Black vernacular” and Mel Watkins asserts there’s nothing to indicate West supported the civil rights movement in the sixties. But then West fought to have Duke Ellington cast in Belle of the Nineties (1934) and – although not mentioned – it’s widely understood West enjoyed interracial sex relationships long before they were deemed acceptable. And the doc also makes you reappraise West’s reviled later films Myra Breckenridge (1970) and Sextette (1978), asking the viewer why we are so horrified by West still flaunting her sexual appetites into old age. As Basinger claims, “There’s a wonderful courage and defiance” to West’s sheer stubbornness in taking what she had in the 1930s and trying to make it work in the 1970s.  Finally, Dirty Blonde frames West’s long-term relationship with bodybuilder Paul Novak as the great love of her life. (Novak met West when he was one of the oiled muscle men in her Las Vegas revue in the early 1950s and stayed loyal right up to her death in 1980). I watched Dirty Blonde on the streaming platform NOW TV. 

/ Mae West and Paul Novak in the early 1950s / 

Dolly Parton’s Southern Style Perfectly Moist Banana Flavoured Cake Mix – Part Deux!

 

In February our much-missed ex-pat friend Louise (aka “Weezie”) blew into London from her adopted home of Galloway, Ohio for a whirlwind visit. As you may recall, for Christmas 2022 Weezie posted me two packs of Dolly Parton’s illicit Southern Style Perfectly Moist Banana Flavoured Cake Mix (accompanied by two tubs of her buttercream frosting). I say “illicit” because Duncan Hines has licensed the whole Dolly Parton baking range for US consumption only – none of it is available in UK grocery stores and non-Americans are blocked from buying it online! I whipped up one of the two banana cake mixes in January, and it was a fluffy light-as-air triumph – exactly the kind of cake a 1970s hostess would produce with a flourish after a dinner party! 

So the day before Weezie arrived to spend the weekend with us, I baked the second cake mix. And this time it was bumpier! I made the cake mix the same as before, using the same cake tins, etc. In the oven, they rose a bit as they baked - and one pan began pumping batter down the sides of the parchment paper onto the baking tray below (which of course began burning). I didn’t “overload” it – both pans were evenly distributed. I'd say about 30% of the cake mix pooled down there and there was nothing I could do to stop it. A total mess! I wondered how much "cake" would be left? Damn, I thought - Dolly Parton has REALLY let me down this time! 

/ Seriously ... what the hell?! / 

But … despite that, after they cooled, and I turned the layers out of the pans … they came out pretty damn perfect. In fact, one layer being slightly smaller made the resulting finished cake more symmetrical when I assembled and frosted it, and the results were prettier than in January. Apologies, Dolly – I’ll never doubt you again!

Postscript: Weezie herself doesn’t possess a “sweet tooth” and doesn’t actually like cake! So, she just sampled a sliver! And she brought with her a treasure trove: two more packs of the banana cake mix AND two of the coconut version! (Plus, more buttercream icing). I’ll let you know when I make the still-untried coconut mix.

/ Weezie and I at The Glory in Haggerston on 26 February 2023 /