I am overjoyed, as well as a little puzzled, to announce yet another patron-funded jaunt through the filmography of a cultural figure a little less distinguished than either David Bowie, easily one of the greatest and most important artists of the past century, and legendary auteur Peckinpah.
All that’s left is Peckinpah’s blood-soaked war movie Cross of Iron and I’m deep into a project on the films of the late, great, fervently mourned David Bowie. I’m nearly done with my patron-funded deep dive into the works of Sam Peckinpah. Or you can be like three kind patrons and use this column to commission a series of pieces about a filmmaker or actor. The price goes down to seventy-five dollars for all subsequent choices. It’s the career and site-sustaining column that gives YOU, the kindly, Christ-like, unbelievably sexy Nathan Rabin’s Happy Place patron, an opportunity to choose a movie that I must watch, and then write about, in exchange for a one-time, one hundred dollar pledge to the site’s Patreon account. Welcome, friends, to the latest entry in Control Nathan Rabin 4.0.
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