Got sidetracked from sewing together my Phoenix costume doing this, whoops. I mean hey, at least this was sort of productive. That's two Phantom tracks down, 43 to go.
Happy 49th anniversary, Phantom Of The Paradise!
We're aiming to have the digital copy of the zine and pre-orders of the physical copies up October 31st, 2024 (the date of the film's actual anniversary!) Profits after production costs will to go charity (organization TBD)
We need somebody super like YOU! Apply to contribute at the link below (18+ only, please!) Any and all art forms are welcome!
Application closes March 31st: https://forms.gle/jRsepkvBThbNEmcC8
Let's be in business together... forever!
update: it's gone from a semitone to roughly 58 cents off but it's still really really annoying. never thought there would come a day when i'd wish to be tone-deaf
my family and i have been fighting a nasty bronchial infection for the past week and a half and today i woke up with an earache from sleeping on my side
AND NOW EVERYTHING IN MY RIGHT EAR SOUNDS A HALF-STEP LOWER THAN IT SHOULD BE
i can't listen to music because it sounds exactly like this
like i'm bummed but it's also extremely funny
winslow crafting recipe. based on an image by @bonzly on a potp discord (that is penguin classics Faust part 1 in the middle)
context:
No more sanity‼️ (theres sort of a suggestive??drawing in the mix of this, so be careful if you don’t want to see that type of thing!!)
There's something about seventies horror that reminds me of live theatre, actually. The sets and costumes are often cheap, and when it comes to period pieces, more 'inspired by' than accurate; the makeup is big and visible; even when the effects are really good, the blood is usually unnaturally red. The acting tends toward the broad and stagey.
And yet, it's also clear that realism is not the goal. Rather, the movie works to draw you in to a unified fiction, to get you to share in its nightmare. The best seventies horror I've seen has a dreamlike, Vaseline-lensed quality, a sense that it doesn't matter whether or not everything that happens in the movie is likely or even possible in real life. We've stepped outside of real life into a self-contained bubble with its own logic and its own sense, a dark fairy tale where the corpses of young girls might transmute into hares or eternally hungry floating heads, or the night of All Hallows might summon a stalking, unkillable masked evil from the past, or a ballet studio might be entirely controlled by witches. Even the lowest-budget, most exploitative Hammer flicks don't escape the touch of that dreaminess, that velvety, enfolding unreality. The movie suggests a world, and we, if we are wise, gladly succumb to the power of that suggestion.