Morgan’s Favorite Firsts of 2022

Wow! For better or worse, what a year! Instead of reflecting on personal growth or future aspirations, I'm looking back on what’s really most important to me, to you, and all our lovely readers: the movies I watched. Is it truly three-hundred and sixty-five days well-spent if you can't celebrate the media you consumed? No, I say. So let's gather ‘round the fire and chat about some favorite first-watch films from this year – the ones which present something I'd never seen,  the ones which invigorate passion for movies themselves, and the ones which, honestly, are worth your valuable time.

After loving Donkey Skin back in May I declared the rest of my year would exclusively target films “meant for women or homosexuals,” because why bother with the rest when stuff like that or Josie and the Pussycats exists? I think, skimming this list of titles I loved enough to write about, I did surprisingly well sticking to that standard. Here’s to 2023! This one goes out to the women, the homosexuals, and all the rest of y’all.

Lair of the White Worm

This year – like every other film fan in America – I found myself completely charmed by Criterion Channel’s “‘80’s Horror” program. Among weirdo bangers such as Brain Damage and new underrated classics à la The Hidden, Ken Russell’s Lair of the White Worm sat coiled like a horny, expressionist snake. When it sprung, the venom proved potent and immediate. At the poisonous cocktail’s center is Amanda Donohoe as Lady Sylvia Marsh, strutting, seducing, drowning men in jacuzzis, and wielding a giant worm-themed strap-on. I'm sure there's a lot more I could say about this nutso horror comedy, but man. Does any of it matter when the evil hot woman is so evil and hot?

The Blob

The original Blob has been a favorite of mine since kid-times, so this extremely goopy, extremely gruesome remake featuring Saw superstar Shawnee Smith is like the New Testament of some personal psychological Bible. Everything you could ever want exists within the confines of this film: disgusting death scenes, Resident Evil corporate paranoia vibes, excessive amounts of the color pink, and a lead actor who looks for all the world like a butch on her eighth month of HRT. If you want to feel normal about the human body, this is not a film for you. But if you want to see bags of flesh sucked down drains, digested, and generally disintegrated in every possible way? Oh buddy, you’re gonna have a blast.

The Cremator

“Nasty little man” is one of cinema's longest-enduring and best archetypes; The Cremator’s Karel Kopfrkingl rocks right up there among the best of them with Dwight Frye’s Renfield and that guy with the haircut in No Country For Old Men. Perhaps it’s not shocking that an unstable weirdo with a death fascination could turn so easily to fascism, but Rudolf Hrušínsky’s off-putting performance is only one of many grease stains on The Cremator’s celluloid; a dirtying, hypnotizing film which feels like it bubbled up in black smoke from some fetid crater. A bad dream which leaves you disgusted, disoriented, and a little bit fascinated.

Frankenhooker

The only time I feel my gender represented in film is through freak shit like the aforementioned Lair of the White Worm, so of course I loved Frankenhooker, Henenlotter’s certified weird-science scum-bucket bolted-breasts banger. Some days you really do feel like the amalgamation of womanhood lurching down the street with her mismatched parts. Anyway, any movie which opens on jarred brains and lawnmower dismemberments is an easy sell where I'm concerned, but lead actress Patty Mullen’s turn as the titular experiment is superstar stuff, and Henenlotter crams this thing with the kind of unrestrained weirdo nonsense that makes me wanna clap and cheer. Those explosion effects! My god. 

Glen or Glenda

Few filmmakers have been done as dirty by critical consensus as Ed Wood, most evident in the remarkably sincere and stunningly original Glen or Glenda. For all the flaws, for all the choices which shake out into points of ridicule from uninteresting and unimaginative viewers, Glen or Glenda stands tall as a bonafide work of art; so achingly personal it threatens to incinerate the screen with a desire to be heard, to be seen, to be accepted. I won’t comment on what Wood was or wasn't working through here, but the more I think about it the sadder I get. This is essential queer cinema and I mean it!

Fleshpot on 42nd Street

Despite his reputation for bile and sadism, Andy Milligan’s Fleshpot on 42nd Street stands genuine and almost tender; chronicling queer melodrama in New York through fragmented sexploitation equal parts dire and hilarious. Too much in this porno theater odyssey which hits too close to home – the cattiness, the strange hookups, the quiet sadness – but also the community, captured by Milligan in hangout spots and conversations and people which feel ripped from the pages of a very odd diary. Pinning it all together are twin powerhouse performances from Laura Cannon as the woman in trouble and Neil Flanagan as the desperately funny Cherry, queen extraordinaire. I'm a big fan of the ending too – nothing says melodrama like a last-minute twist.

Vegas in Space

Possibly the only film with “BASED ON A PARTY BY” in the opening credits. Sincerity and heart go a long way where I'm concerned, so this absolute passion project; this triumph of gay creativity constructed over years on a microscopic budget in the confines of an apartment, really truly spoke to me. Glasses and salt-shakers stand in for city skylines, drag becomes the opulent dress of space-faring civilization, and at one point the whole thing shifts to black-and-white horror parody complete with big-titted Igor. It goes to show how much can be done with so little – but having such a good sense of humor doesn't hurt either.

Bound

There's little to say about Bound’s appeal which isn't communicated by the concept itself: a Wachowski sisters lesbian crime thriller featuring butch Gina Gershon and high-femme Jennifer Tilly. But beyond the surface sizzle Bound ties into a remarkably tight storytelling package; a one-location heater blasting through all hour-forty without a single second wasted. Tense, hot, funny, and affirming – here the Wachowskis preclude their Matrix mastery with a tremendous choice for crowd watches and first dates alike. Not to poke fun at Lana and Lilly, but come on… there's no way this was made by cis men.

The Adventure of Denchu-Kozo

Before Shinya Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo was The Adventure of Denchu-Kozo; a lighthearted, high-energy scuzz-shonen take on the same creative obsessions and techniques which would explode in his later work. Here a boy with an electric pole on his back travels through time to battle a gaggle of punk vampires, preventing the earth’s destruction and learning something about romance along the way. There's a true creative spirit and sense of artists honing their craft on display; some of my favorite touches are the use of stop-motion animation and the miniature sets with dark and stormy clouds which appear to be flashlights shined through cotton. It's all so good! Not just a B-side from one of cinema’s most unique directors, but a fully-realized work in and of its own. Runs a perfect, sumptuous forty-seven minutes.

Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters

I could write something about Paul Schrader, about the ways verbal communication and physical action often fail our intent, but the main reason this movie is on my list is because I'm completely enamored with the film’s fantasy sequences; the way excerpts from Mishima’s novels are plucked and rendered in expressionist stagecraft remains one of the coolest creative decisions I've ever seen. The moment when the camera first moves up from a conversation to reveal the massive “Golden Pavilion” set felt like a religious experience. In my quiet moments I still think about the interior of that pink apartment from the “Kyoko’s House” segment. Genuinely obsessed. Watch this movie!