Word: warholism
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...little bit of everybody here," observed Acid Queen Tina Turner doubtfully, "and not everybody has soul." She spent most of the evening seated next to bugle-beaded Ann-Margret. Invitations called for "black tie or glitter funk," a dress code broad enough to bring put Pop Artist Andy Warhol ("I just wanted to see Ann-Margret"), Marion Javits, wife of Senator Jacob Javits, Actor Anthony Perkins and a sampling of transvestites, tuxedoed Hollywood agents and blue-jeaned rock freaks. The glitter blitz blared until 2 a.m., leaving Columbia Pictures with a bill of some $35,000 for food, flowers...
Your treatise on the American pet was well researched and must have been a real "love feast" for all pet lovers. But when I see Mr. Warhol posing with the stuffed Great Dane, I begin to wonder where fancy ends and grotesqueness begins...
This movie, made virtually in tandem with Andy Warhol's Frankenstein (TIME, June 10), is not quite so spectacular: it is not, like Frankenstein, in migraine-inducing 3-D, and Director-Writer Morrissey goes a little easier on the gore. As a result, the movie is actually funnier-although Morrissey is never going to be a master of restraint...
Like previous Warhol-Morrissey collaborations (in which Warhol appears to furnish mostly his name and a little spiritual guidance), Dracula features a cast of actors who look like stragglers from the Apocalypse. Most are anonymous, possessing a similar flexibility of gender. The one readily identifiable figure, Joe Dallesandro, plays - badly, of course - a servant in a rich, decadent household. In such surroundings his New York street accent is in vigorating: "What's the count doin' with you two who-ahs?" he inquires of two sapphic sisters, and gets only a glazed sneer for a response...
...acting and primping as broadly as he does, lends the proceedings a few fleeting moments of dignity. Morrissey has little time for dignity, how ever. He has, for the moment, forsaken his customary languor; it is this rejuvenated spirit - perhaps a result of all the blood - that gives Andy Warhol's Dracula its few silly, phantom pleasures...