What to Drink While Watching “Her Other Rancid Thoughts”

hachiro-seito

Heen says:

 

This is perhaps the least well-known of the movies that I’ve reviewed here. I borrowed it off a friend (thanks, Simon) who manages to get hold of films that never make the big time thanks to his contacts in Berlin, which seems to be the epicentre of the bizarre film world.

 

Please don’t feel embarrassed if you have never heard of this movie, just as I shall feel perfectly authorised to talk about it as though nobody had. If this post has any aspirations at all, they can only be to encourage people to search for it and enjoy its wonderfulness.

 

The credits say it was made in 2002, directed by Walter Furtz and produced by Alison Molina and Klaus Blanco. I’ve Googled on these people and can find no information whatsoever. (Well, OK, there was a Venezuelan porn actress called Alison Molina, and a certain Walter Furtz teaches marine biology in Anchorage, but I don’t suppose they have anything to do with this film. Still, you never know.)

 

None of the actors in this film are well known, either. There’s somebody called Leonardo di Caprio or something, another called Glenn Close (what a ridiculous name – sounds like a village in Scotland!) and one called Jennifer Lopez. They obviously never made the grade.

 

The story is set in a small fishing community in Oklahoma. The local yakuza boss, Hachiro Seito (di Caprio) mistakenly kidnaps a 12-year-old girl (Close), thinking she’s the reincarnation of Lev Yashin, a.k.a. The Black Spider, and it takes a lot of detective work by Inspector Nkuma, (Lopez), the Nigerian private eye, to track them down.

 

Seito plans to set up a football team based around Yashin, the legendary Russian goalkeeper. (For those of you who think this is far fetched, click on this:   http://www.123football.com/players/y/lev-yashin/index.htm ) Wolfgang, the young girl, pleads with him as her mother (Gary Cooper) leaves no stone unturned in her search, consulting unscrupulous mediums (Paris Hilton and Javier Bardem), corrupt policemen (Ingrid Bergman and Macauley Culkin) and even the retired criminologist who just happens to live next door (Hannah Montana). Eventually, her mother turns to Inspector Nkuma, who is on holiday in Oklahoma, and he blows up a Starbucks with the help of a Trotskyite Maori freedom-fighter group (controlled by one Commander Desmond, played by one Buster Keaton), and Nkuma is able to hand over the charred remains of Wolfgang to her tear-smeared mother.

 

The film is hilarious from start to finish. The gags are tasteful and chic; the dialogue is so scintillating that I can’t resist quoting this excerpt:

 

Hachiro Seito: You are going to make me a very rich man.

Wolfgang: I don’t think so. I can’t even play football.

Hachiro Seito: Ha ha you are very funny.

Wolfgang: No, honestly. You’re making a big mistake.

Hachiro Seito: Shut up and save a penalty.

 

The music is by a certain Brian Eno, another loser who disappeared without trace, which is hardly surprising with that daft name.

 

As far as drinks go, (and this post is filed under the category “The Movie and the Beverage”, don’t forget), there’s a truly brilliant scene where Lopez’s gay taxi driver (played by Marlon Brando, as if anyone could have such an absurd name!) drinks a bottle of carpet shampoo, thinking it’s a banana milk shake, but my favourite scene in this film is when Seito’s deaf mute psychotherapist, played by some obscure actor called Tom Hanks or Yanks or something, tells him an anecdote about when he was sunbathing on a beach in Switzerland, and he had to choose between buying a second hand car from Bill Gates or waltzing with Leire Pajín. As he narrates this, he opens six different bottles of wine, tastes each one in turn and says, “Pure vinegar!” in his unmistakeable Norwegian accent.

 

That got me thinking about vinegary wine and, indeed, winy vinegar. I wondered if I ever were confronted with the grim dilemma of opting for wine that tasted of vinegar or vinegar that tasted of wine, which should I go for?

 

Then I was reminded of that famous quote attributed to Beyonce Knowles: “If you count the tail of a dog as another leg, how many legs does a dog have?”. Her sagacious reply was, of course, four, because even if you count it as a leg, a tail is still a tail and not really a leg.

 

It’s these little snippets of folk wisdom that make the world go round, I always say. Well, sometimes.

 

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