Just because a script is cheesy doesn’t mean the direction has to be that way. So in taking the Samurai Cop challenge, I’ve decided to re-imagine the “head on the piano” scene originally played by Cranston Komoru and Robert Z’Dar.
And be sure to donate to the sequel today on Kickstarter.
This show is about . . .
Um, well, it’s
Basically, it’s like . . .
I don’t know
After four years in the film business, Jimmy Chow comes home to Hawaii and visits his local nudist club, where a teenage girl’s reputation forces him to re-examine himself and his naturist affiliation.
The short film, KELLY DEERDALE, NATURIST written & produced by T.L. Young, directed & shot by Ramzi Abed and starring Andromeda and Wendy McColm opened Friday, August 28, 2009 at the Laemmle Grande 4-Plex in Downtown Los Angeles. “Kelly Deerdale, Naturist” is about a teenage girl’s behavior at a Hawaiian nudist club who jeopardizes a young poet’s life. Filmmakers and cast were present in person at the Friday (August 28, 2009) & Saturday (August 29, 2009) evening shows
Calling it a Godless Religion, these over the hill hippies even created their own bible, entitled the “Nude Beach Etiquette.” With rituals like Burning Man, who is to say this batshit crazy bitch doesn’t have a point, even if it is on the top of her head.
This scene is an excerpt from my upcoming feature film, “Micky’s Summer Resort.” Filmed in 2008, production proceeded very slowly due to lack of funds. Surprisingly the premise of a nudist resort suffering from lack of young members slowly became outdated with the rise of at least two nationwide nudist groups, communicating mostly on social media. The naturist world changed rapidly but this film still packs a comedic punch.
Click on the link below to watch the clip:
We are desensitized to violence on the news. It’s expected. We’re inundated with it all the time.
But the story of Elliot Rodger’s manifesto and subsequent massacre of six sorority girls should scare the bejeezus out of anyone.
It’s easy to think that the goofy male virgin that tries to ask you in a painfully awkward out only to be shot down is comedy gold. How many of us know that the same male virgin goes home every night and pounds his fist into the mattress over and over again or literally bangs his head against the wall until he starts bleeding?
How many of us know that the shy goofy kid curses God after the ninety-ninth attempt and even changes his religion, if he’s lucky enough to find one that resonates with him? How many of us realize that many so-called mature men have attempted suicide or even succeeded because they didn’t want to live one more day as the dreaded “V” word.
But the main question remains.
How many of those virgins realize that in their desire to find love, the real reason they can’t get laid is simply because they are unlovable, self-absorbed douchebags?
Elliot Rodger died without ever knowing why girls found him “creepy.” He will never know that the manifesto he spent preparing and recording was NOT a cry for help, It was a methodical plan to regain some kind of personal power. It was the result of years of bitterness and jealousy over what he felt was “the power of the pussy,” a desire for an object, something to be possessed, and he never once admitted, “I’m just looking for someone to love.”
If love was what he was looking for, he could have gotten professional help with that. He could have tried dating services. He could have even paid for prostitutes, because after a dozen of them, those hookers will bond with him and can tell him what he’s doing wrong, because obviously no one informed him.
I don’t know Elliot personally, but all of the things above if you haven’t figured it out by now pertains to me from my teens to my thirties. It’s easy to be caught up in romance, because it’s all we ever see in the movies, or on television, even in literature. When I watch, “Sixteen Candles” I relate to the male lead, not to the geek and certainly not to Long Duk Dong.
Everyone does. Even geeks don’t relate to the geeks unless they get the girl in the end. But the reality is, a douchebag is still a douchebag, no matter how geeky he is.
And Elliot Rodger, above all, was a douchebag, like myself. We objectified women, cast them as the prize in our quest for love and call it romance. But if someone had just bothered to tell him, “Dude, that’s not love. That’s lust. It’s objectification, and no woman wants to be the object of your fantasies.” Then maybe he’ll think twice.
If his father had encouraged him to write his feelings down, maybe publish a book or an independent film — he certainly had the connections, then maybe this would have been a different story. With a different ending.
But Hollywood producers are in it for the money, not the art and certainly not vanity films.
So what do we take from all this. If we have a collective sigh from the male population, thinking, “Thank God, I’m nothing like him.” Then we’ve failed. I would never deny that I’m very much like him, even though I never wanted to harm other women. I have thought about it, and yes, I would have violent dreams (often comically violent) after I’ve been hurt. But I would never think that it sets me apart from someone like him. Because the anger stemming from loneliness and false feelings of entitlement is very real. And without the right guidance, we’ll only have more incidents like this.
PACIFIC INVASION MEDIA PROUDLY PRESENTS
The lost world of Hawaii’s nudist clubs and nude beaches from the 1970s & 1980s come to life in this beautiful hardcover book, Naked Hawaii, featuring the work of renowned nudist photographer, Leif Heilberg.
Active in the 70s and 80s, Leif traveled to Oahu and the neighbor islands often, capturing idyllic images of Larry and Pru Beck’s Hawaii Nudist Park in Kahuku and its successor, the North Shore Naturist Park. While visiting the neighbor islands, Leif photographed his mainland friends, visitors and their families frolicking on the sands of unofficial “nude beaches” and clubs such as Hale Makala, Honokohau Beach and Kua Bay on the Big Island; Anahola Beach, Donkey Beach, Maha’ulepu Beach, and Mola’a Bay on Kauai.
Many of these photos have appeared in the pages of naturist magazines which were never widely distributed in Hawaii. Long forgotten by local islanders, our current generation has little or no knowledge of the existence of these clubs and beaches. Leif captured a free spirited and innocent lifestyle that no longer exists in the same form in modern day Hawaii, as every beach he captured on film is no longer nudity friendly. The North Shore Naturist Park no longer exists, and most of these photographs have never been seen in decades.
Edited by T. L. Young, author of American Nudist: The Lost Journal, Naked Hawaii is a fine coffee-table book that celebrates the beauty of the islands complemented by the nude human form. The serenity and innocence of Heilberg’s photographs gives the reader a clear understanding of why naturism appealed to so many, and continues to do so today.
Naked Hawaii is the first of three volumes. The other two are titled, Naked USA and Naked World. An ebook titled, Naked Voices, collects all of the essays from the aforementioned three volumes, and includes a bonus section on the nudity protests in present day San Francisco.
Naked Hawaii is a 70 page hardcover, available on Blurb.com at the retail price of $68.99.
Being a fan of the Justice Society of America when I was a teen only alienated me from the mutant loving classmates who raked me over the coals for supporting DC Comics. More than one close friend indicated that DC was a sinking ship and it won’t be long before they go bankrupt and sell their characters off to Marvel.
Well that hasn’t happened and young cosplayers are sharing their love for the Golden Age as well, as witness this year’s Kawaii Kon, Hawaii.