Mister Density
(the unofficial Crispin H. Glover fanzine)
#7 $2 (PO Box 172 Westview Station, Binghamton, NY 13905)
by William Ham
According to editor Brocktoon (isn’t that a Boston suburb populated solely by claymation figures?), this may well be the last issue of Mister Density. What? Does that mean we’ll be deprived of the only periodical to fully chronicle the whys, wherefores, and what-the-hell-was-he-thinkings of the finest thespian ever to thrust an eighteen-inch platform heel into David Letterman’s face? Has the world lost all meaning and purpose? (Trick question – I know it has. I got the memo.) If so, then this is one glorious death rattle. Crispin Hellion Glover puts the “character” back in “character actor,” as anyone who’s seen his unforgettable turns as the speedfreak accessory to murder in River’s Edge, Andy Warhol in The Doors, and Horny Teenager #3 in My Tutor can attest. But he’s much more than that – author, recording artist, fledgling director and lover of waterskiing cats, a Renaissance man for a very fucked-up time. In short, the kind of stranger in an even stranger land that deserves the kind of lunatic obsessiveness fanzines were made for. In this issue, read the synopses for his upcoming directorial debut It Is Mine (where he plays a man tormented by Down’s Syndrome kids all his life – sure to be a hit with the family crowd) and an obscure Polish flick, 30 Door Key; a paean to his as-yet-unreleased second album; interviews with Trent Harris (director of Crispinfamous flix like The Orkly Kidand Rubin and Ed) and Pseu Braun (of the band Children in Adult Jails, creators of the tribute 45 “Crispin Glover, Can I Come On Over?”); and some truly metaphysical morsels (like how “Glover, Crispin” and “God” share a page in the L.A. phone directory – I don’t know what that says ’bout His Crispiness, but it does prove that Christians pray ’cause they’re too cheap to make a toll call). Hurry the hell up and buy a few dozen copies so this mag will survive – us Gloverians need our quarterly fix. You don’t wanna see our withdrawals, I assure you.
