The film consists of a live DJ (Jätten - The Giant https://www.facebook.com/musikfantast) who plays at a illegal rave party where a dark, but also funny, story takes place. In the crowd, a group of actors move around and interact with the party participants. Most people are unaware that the person they are talking to has a microphone and is a character in the movie. So much of what you hear and see is improvised. The cohesive thing is that everyone pretends to be at an underground rave for criminals. A bit like the Boiler Room.
The story is about Sandra who has robbed a jeweler's shop and will flee the country with the loot. Her plan is to find someone with a boat that she can pay for. She tries her luck at an illegal rave, which goes as it goes.
Directed by Samuel Olsson
Producer: Quinn Cordukes
Sound: Niclas Carlén
Production by: JAQ Studios
English and Swedish subtitles available! (click on Settings at the bottom of the video and select language)
The entire 1964 documentary about Sydney's Kings Cross "The Glittering Mile*. David Low's classic narration says it all: King Cross is a "glittering mile of dreams, delusions, hopes and headaches, where life comes out of an espresso machine and you can have it any way you like it."
In some ways, Kings Cross, described as Sin City, hasn't changed at all. One Sydney alderman wants to clean it up, another says it's worth a million dollars a year the way it is.
American singer Wayne Newton, the so-called King of Las Vegas, has just flown in and is seen rehearsing for his opening night at the Silver Spade Room at the Chevron Hotel. He's singing Danke Schön — "Thank you for all the joy and pain."
Outside, the people celebrate the bohemian way of life and complain about the weirdos who congregate there. A dancer at the Pink Pussycat tells a reporter, "Well, you get a lot of creeps around here, I know that. You get pestered walking from one club to another." A New Zealander and his mates perform an impromptu haka outside one strip club.
Dancing girls. Another voiceover demonstrates the way women were portrayed in the media in the '60s: "If it's company you're after, there are plenty of girls at the Cross. The place is full of girls, coming and going. It's hard to understand what keeps them busy all night long." And another: "You can be catered for at places where the girls are provided to please you, but you mustn't touch."
The manager at the Pink Pussycat, "Last Card Louie" says, "I've seen the (striptease) show 39,000 times. It's just one of those things. I don't know what to think about it, to tell you the truth."
Another sign that some things never change is the "frequently heard demand around the Cross" for more police ... and for more police on the beat. One resident even keeps a diary of all the crimes that she hears and sees from her flat.
An interviewer speaks to the infamous "witch of Kings Cross" Rosaleen Norton at the Apollyon Lounge, a cafe that she used to frequent. A robed Rosaleen Norton performs a banishing ritual by inscribing a pentagram in the air with her ceremonial athame, or dagger, thereby purifying and defining the ‘sacred space’ associated with the ritual. However we know that Norton was not always robed during her ceremonial performances because she confirmed in her interview with D.L. Thompson that ‘ceremonial attire ranges from nakedness to full regalia – robes, hood, sandals and accessories...’. Norton appeared during her interview with Thompson clad only in her dark leather ‘witch’s apron’, naked from the waist up, although she later posed for a photograph wearing a cat’s mask in addition to her apron. During Norton’s interview with Thompson her fellow coven members wore ritual animal masks to disguise their identity and referred to each other by using code names like the Rat and the Toad, thereby remaining effectively anonymous. (see Neville Drury's article on Roie)
The excerpt ends with an all-male revue. The narration reads: "A few years ago an all-male revue like Les Girls would have been out of the question in Sydney, as it would in most places where people like the differences between the sexes to be clear and obvious. Today, it's part of the Kings Cross scene." And now years later, it still is ... with the Gay Mardi Gras now one of the highlights of Sydney's social calendar.
The Glittering Mile is a fascinating stroll down memory lane ... looking at Kings Cross as it really was in 1964.
Built around the earliest, until now unseen, footage of The Clash in concert, filmed by Julien Temple as they opened the infamous Roxy club in a dilapidated Covent Garden on 1 January 1977, this show takes us on a time-travelling trip back to that strange planet that was Great Britain in the late 1970s and the moment when punk emerged into the mainstream consciousness.
Featuring the voices of Joe Strummer and The Clash from the time, and intercutting the raw and visceral footage of this iconic show with telling moments from the BBC's New Year's Eve, Hogmanay and New Year's Day schedules of nearly 40 years ago, it celebrates that great enduring British custom of getting together, en masse and often substantially the worse for wear, to usher in the new year.
New Year's Day is when we collectively take the time to reflect on the year that has just gone by and ponder what the new one might hold in store for us. Unknown to the unsuspecting British public, 1977 was of course the annus mirabilis of punk. The year in which The Clash themselves took off, catching the imagination of the nation's youth. As their iconic song 1977 counts us down to midnight, we share with them and Joe Strummer, in previously unseen interviews from the time, their hopes and predictions for the 12 months ahead.
Robert George "Joe" Meek (5 April 1929 – 3 February 1967) was an English record producer, musician, sound engineer and songwriter who pioneered space age and experimental pop music. He also assisted the development of recording practices like overdubbing, sampling and reverberation. Meek is considered one of the most influential sound engineers of all time, being one of the first to develop ideas such as the recording studio as an instrument, and becoming one of the first producers to be recognized for his individual identity as an artist.
Meek became fascinated with the idea of communicating with the dead. He would set up tape machines in graveyards in an attempt to record voices from beyond the grave, in one instance capturing the meows of a cat he believed was speaking in human tones, asking for help. In particular, he had an obsession with Buddy Holly (saying the late American rocker had communicated with him in dreams). By the end of his career, Meek's fascination with these topics had taken over his life following the deterioration in his mental health, and he started to believe that his flat contained poltergeists, that aliens were substituting his speech by controlling his mind, and that photographs in his studio were trying to communicate with him.
Meek was affected by bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and, upon receiving an apparently innocent phone call from American record producer Phil Spector, Meek immediately accused Spector of stealing his ideas before hanging up angrily. His professional efforts were often hindered by his paranoia (Meek was convinced that Decca Records would put hidden microphones behind his wallpaper to steal his ideas), depression, and extreme mood swings. In later years, Meek started experiencing psychotic delusions, culminating in him refusing to use the studio telephone for important communications due to his beliefs that his landlady was eavesdropping on his calls through the chimney, that he could control the minds of others with his recording equipment, and that he could monitor his acts while away from the studio through supernatural means.
Meek was also a frequent recreational drug user, with his barbiturate abuse further worsening his depressive episodes. In addition, his heavy consumption of amphetamines caused him to fly into volatile rages with little or no provocation, at one point leading him to hold a gun to the head of drummer Mitch Mitchell to 'inspire' a high-quality performance.
Meek's homosexuality – at a time when homosexual acts were illegal in the UK – put him under further pressure and he was particularly afraid that his mother would find out about his sexual orientation. In 1963 he was convicted and fined £15 (equivalent to £316 in 2019) for "importuning for immoral purposes" in a London public toilet, and was consequently subject to blackmail. In January 1967, police in Tattingstone, Suffolk, discovered two suitcases containing mutilated body parts of Bernard Oliver. According to some accounts, Meek was afraid of being questioned by the Metropolitan Police, as it was known they were intending to interview all of the gay men in London. This was enough for him to lose his self-control.
Meek always walked everywhere outside the studio wearing sunglasses, fearing recognition by local gangsters such as the Kray twins, who he feared would attempt to steal his acts or blackmail him regarding his homosexuality.
Meek's depression deepened as his financial position became increasingly desperate. French composer Jean Ledrut accused him of plagiarism, claiming that the melody of "Telstar" had been copied from "La Marche d'Austerlitz", a piece from a score Ledrut had written for the film Austerlitz (1960). The lawsuit meant that Meek did not receive royalties from the record during his lifetime, and the issue was not resolved in his favour until three weeks after his death in 1967.
On 3 February 1967, Meek killed his landlady Violet Shenton and then himself with a single-barrelled shotgun that he had confiscated from his protégé, former Tornados bassist and solo star Heinz Burt, at his Holloway Road home/studio. Meek had flown into a rage and taken the gun from Burt when he informed Meek that he had used it while on tour to shoot birds. Meek had kept the gun under his bed, along with some cartridges. As the shotgun had been owned by Burt, he was questioned intensively by police before being eliminated from their enquiries
