My first exposure to Sam Peckinpah

Was through Monty Python, and it was also contextless. As I've grown older and watched the entirety of the Flying Circus again, it's interestingto note that the show was a part of its time, as when I saw it it was timeless, whereas now I see the roots and its (often brief) moments of topicality. And my appreciation of the sketch Salad Days has transmogrified. I used to see that sketch as random bloodletting, and now I know its inspiration. I have to say it was funnier before I knew Bloody Sam, because nothing tickles the funny bones of a twelve year old like seeing someone staggering with a keyboard stuck in their body, or people bleeding profusely from getting hit with a tennis ball.

I often site Sam Fuller, Howard Hawks, Akira Kurosawa, Jean Pierre Melville and Jean Renoir as my top five (cause why not, and the shit comes up, believe it or not), but Peckinpah and Welles also figure into this list, and in both cases, there are the parallels of the abused enfants terribles, in both cases one has to try and find the true versions of their films; they are artists you have to work with to like, but in a more interesting and exciting way than is the case with some modern entertainment that lack proper motivation or gravitas. I watched The Getaway this weekend, and it's good. I can't say I love it, but it's like an El Dorado for me, a lesser picture I can appreciate simply because it's more entertaining that 90% of everything else.