When you think Mambo, you probably think of shit like Australian Jesus and the artist who created it, Reg Mombassa. Yet, its only today that I learned that that isn’t actually his real name. Which is Chris O’Doherty.
Anyway, I caught this short flick, Golden Sandals, about the man himself on my Qantas flight and was happy to learn that this crazy dude had so much behind the funny pictures. He quips poker faced about his childhood and how his mom and dad’s constant building of houses affected him and his distorted sense of suburbia and humanity.
My favorite scene was when he describes the idea behind Australian Jesus, which is a sort of reaction toward Aussie culture and not so much of a theological statement. Another scene where he sketches after revisiting one of his childhood homes is also breathtaking, in how he forms an idea and fills it up about houses with legs and progress progress progress. All that mashed in with an apocalyptic future where American jets might bomb the shit out of everything.
Cool guy.
I finally caught Control, the film by Anton Corbijn and only because Qantas were good enough to have it on their in flight entertainment system. My previous efforts to catch the film were largely foiled by the location of the cinema where it was showing in Sydney being out of the way with regards to my location, my inability to find anyone to watch it with and also procrastination. Which means I procrastinated and never caught the film on the big screen so I settled for a tiny one instead. I did try to download it but the great Australian internet connection told me to fuck off.
Anyway, its a beautiful film. I just love the contrast, the black and white, the relation to the characters, their distance, their proximity, their emotional state… I also love the graphic insight into one of my favorite bands and the coloring of their story. Stuff like Tony Wilson signing a contract in his blood or Hooky mentioning how he hated the word cocks in The Buzzcocks.
Yet, nothing detracts from the tragedy that is the heart of one of the greatest rock’n'roll stories of all time and the pure depression that results from it. Watching the film gave me a chance to fully visualize what had till then been simply words on a page. I felt like I had my heart wrenched from my ribcage as I watched the inevitable ending. Its just so fucking sad and yet you also realise how Ian Curtis was always going to be like that and at the end of the day, he left a wonderful legacy.
RIP Ian.
