The Decline of Western Civilization (July 9 at 9:10 p.m. and July 10 at 6:30 p.m. at the Cleveland Cinematheque)

 

In 1981, this famous look at the American west-coast punk-rock musical underground was an eye-opener in those halcyon, post-disco days of Olivia Newton-John and the Bee Gees. Fights broke out frequently at screenings (imagine that; today people would only be shot). Shock-rockers of later years may have raised the bar of ridiculous indulgence and post-adolescent nihilism (or, if you're a fan, heroic revolt against yuppie consumerism), but there's historical import here for those interested in the time period. Or the mere concept of musicians who don't seem to care about Billboard charts or Red Bull sponsorship.

Ron Reyes, the frontman of Black Flag before Henry Rollins came along, shows us the spray-painted closet where he lives for only $16 per month. Exene Cervenka, back when she was still dwelling in domestic bliss with fellow X member John Doe, displays her collection of fire-and-brimstone Christian evangelical tracts picked up off the streets of LA. Staff of the essential punk journal Slash assemble an issue, despite the typesetter complaining about all the cigarette burns on the pages (thanks to desktop PC publishing not a problem much anymore).

Beijing Punk (now on video)

Review by Charles Cassady, Jr.

China will be owning and running everything pretty soon, so why not punk rock music as well? The ultimate form of musical rebellion in a Peoples Republic that, not too long ago, was a Maoist horror-show dictatorship close to North Korea in chilly doctrinaire-Marxist total control...? That's the come-on in Shaun Jefford's rockumentary, and an appealing one it is, though for me, anyway, the concept (and the deceptively sexed-up movie poster) is more interesting than the result.

On the eve of the 2008 summer Olympics in Beijing, Jefford and his shoestring film crew find a nascent punk-rock movement active in the Chinese metropolis, mostly centered around a rock club and tiny record labels managed by Western expatriates. Many of the punkers dwell in a downscale neighborhood called Tongzhou, and it is quite a revelation to be told this is one of those slum areas where one hears random gunfire at all hours. One did assume that the Forbidden City, even in these days of free-market "democracy" (or whatever it is our Chinese future masters got going over there for a government) kept tighter policing.

Repo Man (October 1st at the Cedar Lee Theatre)

[REPO MAN screens October 1st at 9:30pm and midnight at the Cedar Lee Theatre.]

Review by Charles Cassady, Jr.

When the 2010 futuristic thriller REPO MEN came out, with Jude Law among medical mercenaries who repossess transplanted organs when the new owners fail to pay them off, I liked the premise (bet the Cleveland Clinic will go that route, in the end) but hated the title. It would only eclipse the 1984 cult classic REPO MAN, the debut from emigre British director Alex Cox, beloved of a generation of moviegoers as the ultimate in "punk" cinema, yet with the novelty of not taking place in a rock-club background, like you'd expect. Fortunately, I do believe REPO MEN sank like a stone, while REPO MAN is still there to be appreciated in all its nihilistic glory, quotable dialogue and restless energy. Not so much screwball comedy as screw-it-all comedy.