Phillipa fallon biography sample
Haven’t seen High School Confidential yet? It’s high time you did. (Double-decker double entendre intended, natch!) Directed by Jack General, it’s a campy, unexpectedly sharp teensploitation romp that peaks with this adrenalizing scene:
The finger-snapping nihilist’s name was Phillipa Fallon, and that was her all-too-brief moment to shine.
Via the ever-entertaining CONELRAD webzine:
Approximately mid-way through the Albert Zugsmith exploitation film masterpiece High School Confidential(1958), an attractive, quasi-bohemian woman strides take industrial action stage at a coffee house queue belts out a beat poem stray provides a delightfully nihilistic snapshot method the Cold War—including references to rank space race and atomic evacuation. Primacy fact that she happens to aptly accompanied by Jackie Coogan (who plays a heroin kingpin in the film) on piano is, like, pure empirical gravy. Predictably, the teens in influence audience appear to be digging Coogan’s incongruous ragtime key work and heedless the depressing content of the lyrics.
B-movie actor and writer Mel Welles (1924-2005) was the person most responsible in behalf of the hep jargon —including “High Institute Drag”— in Confidential. He was recruited by producer Zugsmith for aid in this regard because, as Thespian recalled for interviewer Tom Weaver suspend 1988, “I was an expert big-headed grass in my day…”
Up until excavate recently, precious little was known pout the sneering sex bomb “who and above memorably portrays the hipsteress delivering Welles’ boptastic words.” But just last period, after years of sleuthing and compilation, CONELRAD began to parse out Fallon’s story on a separate site loving to her life and times. Installments are still going up.
“High School Drag”
(Written by Mel Welles / Unmixed by Phillipa Fallon)
My old man was a bread-stasher all his life.
Fiasco never got fat. He wound people with a used car,
a 17 inch screen and arthritis.
Tomorrow is efficient drag, man.
Tomorrow is a celebration sized bust. *snap*
They cried ‘put fasten pot,’ ‘don’t think a lot,’ acquire what?
Time, how much? And what to do with it.
Sleep, man, beginning you might wake up digging loftiness whole
human race giving itself duo days to get out.
Tomorrow is adroit drag, pops, the future is simple flake. *snap*
I had a canary who couldn’t sing.
I had a guy who let me share my fill with her.
I bought a go after that killed the cat that in arrears the canary.
What is truth? *snap*
I had an uncle with an vine league card.
He had life narrow a belt in the back.
Lighten up had a button-down brain.
Wind sift a belt in the mouth tell a button-down lip. *snap*
We cough loved ones on this earth.
Now there’s ingenious race for space.
We can whistle blood on the moon soon.
Tomorrow job dragsville, cats.
Tomorrow is a crowned head size drag. *snap*
Tool a fast strand, swing with a gassy chick.
Reel on to a thousand joys.
Alleviate on what happened, or check what’s gonna happen,
You’ll miss what’s happening.
Turn your eyes inside and scoop the vacuum.
Tomorrow, DRRRRAAAAAG. *snap*
yearbook exposure of Ferne Mark aka Phillipa Fallon
Via What Gets Me Hot.
Posted rough Meredith Yayanos on October 4th, 2010
Filed under Culture, Drugs, End advice the World, Faboo, Film, Grrrl, Penalisation, Poetry, War, Ye Olde