![]() The knitting, dying and manufacturing are carried out in established facilities in Tamil Nadu, renowned for high ethical labour standards and low environmental impact. These are then blended with locally recycled polyester and spun into yarn. The cotton waste from normal production is saved ("salvaged") and shredded until broken into individual fibres. The fabrics are produced in India from 60% recycled organic cotton and 40% recycled polyester. Our ground-breaking recycled t-shirts are made from 100% recycled materials and are, to our knowledge, the first commercially produced t-shirts made from recycled cotton. If you have very specific size requirements please contact us to discuss. in the event of garments from our usual supplier being unavailable/out of stock, we will substitute for an equivalent or better quality garment from an alternative supplier. (Height = top of collar to bottom of garment Width = armpit to armpit) Our women's v-neck t-shirts are a longer, looser fit than our standard round-neck women's, and are 100% cotton.Īll our garments are ethically produced: read our full ethical policy here. *Available in black only Women's V-Neck T-Shirts (Height = top of front collar to bottom of garment Width = armpit to armpit) The movie never stops appearing as DVD reissues (four times so far), in rap songs, as a computer game, and now, again, at the cinema.Our round-neck women's t-shirts are all high quality, 100% organic cotton.Īll our garments are ethically produced: read our full ethical policy here. No one does lines of cocaine (a loathsome drug for a loathsome era), they do piles of cocaine chainsaws are brandished, not switchblades the vague, censor-baiting hints at Borgia-syle incest in the original morph here into Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio screaming at her brother, "Ya wanna fuck me, huh, Tony? Huh?"īut Tony is a fully-fledged 1980s-style unzipped capitalist go-getter, worthy of admiration given the Friedman-fundamentalist economic fumes wafting through the zeitgeist back then he's a Horatio Alger hero with a hole through his septum, he's Arkan in the making.Īnd he must be doing something right. Scarface is a movie with all its dials twisted up to 11. And Al Pacino, whose Tony Montana haunts his oeuvre in the same way that Jack Torrance in The Shining does Jack Nicholson's: these were the hinge-moments when both came perilously close to undermining any notions of seriousness we may hitherto have entertained about their talents. There's De Palma himself at the helm (his achievements there would net him a Razzie nomination), while behind the typewriter lurked Oliver Stone, whose scripts have always emitted the chemical reek of amphetamine (Scarface's doppelganger movie is Wall Street). The remake is a perfect storm of over-the-top contributors all united on the same numbing, deafening movie. The Howard Hawks original is a spitting, howling rollercoaster ride, anchored by a joyfully unhinged Paul Muni. In Blow Out, De Palma branched out, this time stealing more venturesomely from Coppola's The Conversation and Antonioni's Blow-Up, larding both with his patented brand of visual ugliness, bullshit "homage", and screechy, millimetre-deep performances. Obsession was Vertigo crudely retro-engineered Dressed To Kill had two shower scenes and a tranny psycho-killer. To say Brian de Palma was born for that kind of culture is an understatement he had already plundered other people's work mercilessly, particularly Hitchcock's. The 1980s was, among other things, the decade in which Hollywood began the serious work of strip-mining its own history, emptying the archives and remaking everything old and good with that special reverse-Midas touch that turns gold into shit. ![]() It's as irreducibly 80s as Reagan's black plastic hairdo, Madonna's bustier and the Jane Fonda Workout. It's not the best film of the decade (that might be Raging Bull) or the most influential (except among gangsta rappers), or the most elegantly crafted (good god, no), but somehow Scarface manages, both intentionally and utterly accidentally, to capture the 1980s' atmosphere of unflagging greed, moral emptiness and materialistic crassness to a tee. ![]()
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