💊³ ENTIRELY MY SHIT
When I say “ancient art of blogging”, sometimes that’s just going to mean “glorified Tumbling”.
I bang on about Preacher a lot - it’s the only show I actually make time for in these fraught, moments-poor days of proto-toddler.
I reckon the show will be remembered as an addled mess, but, for mine, it’s ticks a load of boxes marked ENTIRELY GARTH’S SHIT.
Obviously the iconography of the desert and Ozploitation means a lot to me, with the show leaning into it and headed outback into my home turf in these final episodes.
The George Miler is thick with episode six, and absurdist touches like New Zealand being hoodwinked into declaring war on Australia feels particularly of the moment.
Why the fuck wouldn’t they?
As you’re maybe aware, the original Vertigo comic definitely counts as a germinative influence on my novel, Home Brewed, Vampire Bullets - as my old pal Justin Hamilton said, “it could fit into the Preacher via George Miller hole we need filled!”
Anyway, here're a bunch of images (™ + © AMC) that tickled my whatever from this week’s episode - check out all that driving up the wrong side in Melbourne, and more than a few cheeky nods to Andrew Dominik and John Hillcoat.
Even better, the Australia depicted in the show’s universe seems to be frozen in some sort of perpetual Rennie Ellis via Wake In Fright meets Sir Les Patterson drongo purgatory.
Which, when you think about it, is pretty much spot on in these wearying early days of Anno Scummo.