I JUST 'cause you'rethe director it don't meanthe rest ol us can’t have some tun! Yet anotherlarnily squabble breaks out between brothers Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez on the set at Mon at Work. Meanwhile, a minor member of the cast has unlucklly drowned while waiting torthe scene to start. See Film index page 20.
I HANGING out togethertor the lasttlrne are the Men They Couldn't Hang. They'll be hanging up their guitars for good atterthe current string at dates. Catch them on Wed 13 at Edinburgh’s Caiton Studios or Thurs14 at Glasgow College at Building and Printing.
We’re just receiving reports that the reports we received before receiving that last report may in fact . . . yes,the reports before that have in fact been confirmed as being
unconfirmed . . . and, um . . .overto you,Jeremy.
THOSE READERS who‘ve noticed the recent multiplication in our Recruitment ads section may have been disappointed not to see a notice which appeared in The Scotsman. If you've ever thought of yourself as a good semen salesman (and we know a few people who are of that mind), then you‘ll be kicking yourselfthat you missed it. Genus Breeding — an ominous-sounding subsidiary of the Milk Marketing Board - are looking for a travelling rep to disseminate information about the advantageous qualities of the Genus AI Stud. Would—be applicants are warned. however, that anyone thinking about a career lining others up with a lumber would be as well to see Cyrano de Bergerac first.
READERS too young to remember 3-D movies may be alarmed to see Scotland’s groovier hipsters roaming the M8 wearing peculiar optical equipment. Be not afeared: there is a simple explanation. Long. long ago. when Steven Spielberg was in short trousers, some Hollywood boffin with too much time on his hands started footering with discarded sweetie wrappers. He discovered that by placing a red one over one eye and a green one over the other. and then doing some really boffiny things with the film, he could make images appear to leap out at cinema audiences. who in due course agreed that this was a jolly good idea. Everyone got bored of3-D quite quickly, but not before the scientist had become very rich. Now those crazy Slam boys have reinstated 3-D specs as a fashion accessory. Their Massive Allnighter (see back cover) is the first ofits kind in the galaxy (sic) and by all accounts it should be a pretty fair rave. Those lucky enough to win tickets (see page 38) or rich enough to buy them, get given a free pair of the specs to wear on the night. But what we want to know is how many boxfuls of Quality Street everyone else has to unwrap to enjoy the full effect of the posters.
NICE JOB ifyou can fill it. Applications are now open for the coveted post of Rector of Edinburgh University, but suitable nominations are dribbling in at a disappointing
rate. So far, the running is being made by Fish (former Marillion frontperson) and Runrig‘s Donnie MacLeod. This is all very well and good, but we feel sure the incumbent Muriel Gray would be more at ease handing over the reins to reliable Vic Reeves. the favoured candidate of a growing lobby ofstudents. One shudders to imagine the consequences. however, if another much-sought nomination comes through. Imagine: M. Thatcher (rtd). Rector. Wrecked or what?
ON A LIGHTER note. news reaches us from Glasgow‘s Third Eye Centre that the Norwegian company Dans Design will be presenting an unusual piece for both the New Moves Across Europe season and Scottish Norwegian piece. Entitled Film. Dance To Be Murdered By, it features performers including two actors, three dancers, 16mm film, slides, music and design. We were just wondering whether the Third Eye‘s resident stray performing snake might be appearing when we noticed that Dans Design's previous show Kraft had employed a cast including ‘electric power stations’. Disappointingly, the National Review of Live Art will not be taking place this year, but applications from buildings, trees and discarded sink units are invited.
IN THE DAYS when Sarah Hemming stood at our helm, she waged a tireless campaign for typographical accuracy on behalf of George Wyllie. Back then, of course, he was a mere sculptor. Now that he terms himselfa scul?tor, the pedants among us are once again at war with over-zealous proofreaders. But consider, ifyou will, the complications which present themselves in the case of a certain Glaswegian accountant-turned- comedian. No, not Arnold Brown. We're talking about Fred. Fred McAulay? Fred McCauley? Fred MacCaulie? In a recent Traverse brochure. he is dubbed both McCaulay and McCauley in one breath. Both are wrong. The correct spelling of Fred MacAulay is — urn — F-r-e-d M-a-c-A-u-l-a-y.
The List 8— 21 February 19913