Tag Archives: roar

Tommy Tricker & The Stamp Traveller (1988)

Tommy Tricker is a children’s film about a society ordered on the basis of stamp collecting.  This is a world where all ages can identify a rare stamp on sight, and where everyone is constantly grifting and wheedling to get ahead to improve their collection.  Tommy Tricker is a young scam artist who excels in ripping people off by using stamps. The movie spends a lot of time building up Tommy Tricker’s character, only to pull a real switcheroo and have the actual lead character be some kid named Ralph who gets into black stamp magic and is granted the power to get animated, shrink down, and travel on a stamp. This takes him to both China, and more notably Australia, which has funnier stereotypes.

Though there are plenty of wild, inexplicable moments, these are pretty well-balanced with a lot of grind, where you’re watching the movie manage its pieces in a fairly normal way while you’re waiting for the good stuff.  While there is a specific type of thrill when you realize for instance that Ralph’s parents don’t seem to know or care that he has been missing for weeks, followed by Ralph’s father’s blood-curdling scream when he suddenly appears in front of them, I found sadly that these moments were eclipsed by the grind getting to them.

I definitely don’t believe that good art necessarily has be connected to how well it achieves its intentions.  We have plenty of master classes in greatness achieved by creating a desired effect, but the rarer and potentially more powerful finds are the movies where you’re called on to create a “house effect” of your own, transforming a bunch of ill-considered choices into a meaningful and enjoyable experience.  Tommy Tricker toes the line into this kind of experience, but unfortunately the movie’s ability to coast by as a just-good-enough children’s film handicaps it. This innate understanding of a simple form keeps it from getting to the heights of a Roar, or The Room, or one of Neil Breen’s films, etc., movies where the allegiance of their intentions can have more in common with a reflex test at the doctor’s than a carefully-made plan.

There are some very inspired moments. The depth of attention Tommy Tricker pays to stamp collecting is bonkers, and everything in Australia is great, and the film operates on a different level – a highlight here is when a character “driven mad by having all of his zoo animals poisoned” chains Tommy Tricker to a didgeridoo in a pen with a bunch of “lying kangaroos.” On the whole though, I feel like this one is strictly for the curiosity heads. The movie’s director made another film called The Peanut Butter Solution, which while i think has some of the same problems as this one, I’d recommend more as it has a deeper, wilder undercurrent that comes from subbing out stamp collecting for prepubescent body horror. While there can be transcendence in ignorance of form and quality, this film as a whole reminded me of watching a meandering improv set, one that has moments of brilliance and a strangely singular tone, but is ultimately buried under a cloud of directionless noodling.


Rock Demers produced 22 movies in the “Tales for All” series between 1984 and 2004. I’ve seen “Tales for All” #2, Michael Rubbo’s The Peanut Butter Solution (1985), maybe ten times and I absolutely recommend it. It’s a character caper with seriously convoluted plotting, endless, strange non-sequiturs, and a visual humor that casually edges as readily into the slapstick as the nightmarish; its “fully-realized but completely mysterious world”-mode connects it to everything from The Room (2003), to Nightbreed (1990), to Peewee Herman, to Paper Rad. The most accurate description of the movie I have is: It’s fun to ask people to watch it, and then ask them to describe it to you. “Tales for All” #7, Tommy Tricker & the Stamp Traveller, is Michael Rubbo’s second contribution to the series (of four total), and I loved this one too.

Tommy Tricker takes place on a planet Earth similar to this one, except that all people are inordinately interested, each for their own reasons, in stamps or the mail. Many people collect stamps for their beauty, or to take pride in their rarity; others deal stamps as a speculative commodity; some have pen pals; one guy tries to commit mail fraud. There’s also a small hobo subculture of people who travel the earth by casting a spell that embeds them on a stamp for the duration of its mail-time, to be transformed back into a person on arrival.

The basic plot, unifying an episodic collection of on-location hijinks shot throughout suburban Canada, Australia, and China, is that a kid trades his hothead Dad’s coolest stamp to Tommy Tricker, and eventually figures out that he can use stamp travel to get to Australia, where he suspects he’ll be able to recover a book of extremely rare stamps, which he hopes to bring home to mollify Dad… got that? As in The Peanut Butter Solution, there’re so many unnecessary details, quirks, asides, and unanswered questions that I’m tempted to go ham and add a second post listing my favorite fifty, and possibly a third with a deep dive on the rules, physics, and various implications of stamp travel. (Me, on stage in a dark and silent auditorium, addressing no one: “And I will, if anyone is actually interested.”)

I found the movie notably more coherent on rewatch. I’m reminded that as a kid I’d view movies by “having them on,” and familiarity with the characters and “what happens” would become both assumed and total throughout all parts of a viewing, such that any given movie’s scenes could be watched in any order, partially, and so on. I appreciate that Tommy Tricker feels structured to anticipate this immersed, kid-style repetitive viewing mode, and I enjoy the particular kind of confusion it creates for me, as an adult viewer, who now sits down and watches things straight through, and usually just once.

Roar (1981)

Most writing online abt Roar is largely “what a crazy production”-focused. The movie is “about” Dad writing/directing/starring in & forcing his family to be in a movie abt how living with big cats is beautiful & chill, when the irl fact is that it is not, as evidenced by the numerous, frequently gruesome injuries sustained by cast and crew. The banner factoid is that Speed (1994) director Jan de Bont needed 120 stitches after he was “scalped” by a lion working as cinematographer on this one. So on one level the movie is a lurid curiosity – a manipulatively-edited but absolutely transparent document of an abusive, violent, lived bad idea. This is clearly manifested on screen by everyone except Dad being constantly “not acting” terrified of the mortal danger they’re clearly in, as the jaunty soundtrack plays on. I don’t put on movies just to watch fucked up documents of irl suffering, so if it feels like that’s the unavoidable way you’d end up viewing this one, probably pass.

But if you can get past that, there’s a hugely hypnotic dreamtime energy very much on deck here. The movie’s central predicament is more harrowing and strange than any “animal threat” movie I can think of – a family find themselves stranded at Dad’s river research treehouse (because Dad forgot when they get to the airport), and they are somehow 100% unprepared for the realization that the treehouse is dripping with lions – which is presented as a fun misunderstanding? In terms of non-stop alien habitat and stalking threat, there’s more wild stuff here than any animal doc I’ve seen, including Grizzly Man (2005), but none of it is grounded by anything like a plot or character development. Instead you get two classic nightmares paired and stretched to feature-length: Dad trying to get home on time but making impossibly slow progress, the family endlessly running away inside a house but never getting anywhere. There’s also a “Dad’s best friend” character who repeatedly, disbelievingly tells Dad he’s crazy and the situation is way too dangerous (the only relatable perspective in the movie, presented as demented comic relief), and a barely-there subplot about poachers (a lion kills them).

The “plot” at the treehouse is looping, edge-of-sleep horror presented as straight-up family fun comedy, where the family members repeatedly hide, run away, endlessly lose track of and find each other, fall asleep, wake up surrounded by lions, run away, fall asleep again… now it’s day, now night, now day… they run up to the roof, fall off into the water, are inexplicably dry again in some new room, then back up on the roof falling in, then running up, again, and again, and again… as lions are continuously surging through all openings, pressed tightly together as they trample thru the treehouse’s small rooms, destroying furniture, smashing down doors, hanging from rafters, swatting and sniffing, and every vehicle is meeting its doom – at least three boats and a motorcycle get sunk, tigers playfully knock over cyclists, the car catches a flat – and anything humans get inside of, such as a barrel, icebox, cabinet, or locker, is knocked over and smashed by lions, all proceeding as if it’s totally normal hijinks, a comedic misunderstanding that “the lions are actually our friends,” with a jutting, unexpectedly beautiful, distant shot of Dad riding his bike across the plains at sunset and singing to himself, Fitzcarraldo-level demonic in his lack of concern or actual urgency around his family’s obvious mortal danger. When he gets home, everyone’s fine, and the movie pretty much just ends. Forget fakes like Mandy (2018) or whatever; this is the true bonkers psychedelic reality-melter material, what my own actual anxiety dreams are in fact regularly like. And I do for sure put on movies that go to that space and  strongly recommend this one to anyone else who does too.


Roar is perfect.  The story of a man late to pick up his estranged family from the airport quickly spirals into the fun zone when they show up at his home to find him gone, and replaced with 50-60 or so untrained lions, tigers and jaguars.  Over the course of the next 90 or so minutes we get to experience a cool world where large cats party in houses, on boats, on skateboards, and in the wild, while humans bide their time hiding in refrigerators and running for their lives. The film also stars a cool elephant who acts as something of a boss character for the family each time they try to make a break for it.  While this scene is playing out, the father, portrayed as something of a way less competent Grizzly Man for big cats, goes to the airport, realizes his family is not there, then makes his way back to house.

Though it can seem like the set up for a horror movie on paper, Roar is aimed at the family – boasting a PG rating, inappropriately uplifting music playing while the family is being hunted, and adorable baby lion footage to shore up its bonafides.  Contrasting this happy go lucky vibe with the near constant mauling of everyone on screen creates an incredibly deep reality chasm, a delightful zone where we as the viewer can let go of everything we think we know about human behavior.

This kind of unreality gives a nice texture to the near-constant violence hoisted on the cast by the gaggle of playful lions.  Roar has the reputation of being the most dangerous movie ever made, with something like 70-100 injuries incurred over the course of its 11 year production.  It’s all on the screen as well, bringing a visceral realness that contrasts powerfully with the actors’ performances, not so much remarkable for the believability they bring to their roles, but that they are able to believably affect artificiality in the midst of footage that otherwise can feel very dangerous and very real at all.

This purity of vision lifts Roar above being just a particularly rowdy nature documentary or pseudo-snuff curiosity.  A large part of the joy it creates was feeling the waves rippling through the film made by the rapid oscillation between “this is a movie” to “these animals do not care that this is supposed to be a movie.”  Intended or not, this deeply bakes the themes of nature versus man’s ambition into the film, and intended or not, Roar makes a very compelling case for man’s overall helplessness and folly. The end result is one of the funniest, most insane movies I’ve seen in a long time, and everyone should see it.