Once
upon a time (August, 1999, to be exact) aficionados of popular culture
conjured a dream. They envisioned a "Jukebox in the Sky" -- a colorful,
shiny, neon-bedecked contraption that would allow them instantaneous,
universal access to all the music that had ever been recorded during
the entire history of the world since Thomas A. Edison started
scratching nursery rhymes into wax cylinders. And lo, it came to pass.
From Napster and the Creative Jukebox to eMusic and the iPod, if your
life needs a soundtrack, you can find it, program it, and wallow in it.
Of course, for some of us, that only whetted our appetites. What we really wanted was the Film Forum-in-the-Sky. And creating it is how I spent my holiday break... and my holiday heartbreak.
Look, let me admit it right off the bat: My cultural predilections are... aberrant. I loved the Napster phenomenon from the get-go not because it allowed me to steal popular contemporary tracks, but because it enabled me to reach across the globe to pull in my obscure, idiosyncratic objects of adoration, the love that dare not speak its name. The Les Baxter Orchestra. Julie London. Vic Damone. Spike Jones. Crooners. Lounge. Elevator music. I was hooked from my first search (the Cab Calloway-Al Jolson novelty number I Want to Sing-a, if you must ask).
And so, too, in film. Sure, sure, my list of favorites includes the standards -- Citizen Kane, The Third Man, Hitchcock's Notorious. We spent New Year's Eve watching the Fred & Ginger Marathon on TCM. But what I really crave are psychotronic movies.
