some things

Thanks to everyone who sent in their Top 20 favorite horror movies for the upcoming SHOCKtober celebrations. I'll begin counting them down on October 1 with new chunks o' lists appearing every day throughout the month. I don't really want to spoil the results, but I have to say that I'm super surprised The Bye Bye Man placed first by a wide wide margin, man. Guess it's a already a bonafide genre classic!

I recently spoke with the fine folks over at Achievement Oriented about Night Trap and scary video games and more, and I think it was good? You'll have to listen and tell me. I always go into a kind of fugue state when participating in these types of things, like I talk and my soul leaves my body and I keep talking and my soul looks down and is like "GIRL STOP YOU'RE LOSING THE PLOT" but I just keep going and then when it's all over I have no idea what went on or where my pants ended up. HASHTAG BLESSED.

And if that's not enough vidya games for ya, I also ranked Resident Evil games by their number of platform appearances over at Kotaku. It's kind of a post for Resident Evil nerds, aka it is a post for me.

Finally SHOCKtober is almost upon us! It's gonna be a good month, I think. Daily listing here at the ol' FG, some more surprises in store at the ol' FG, and some good content planned over at the ol' Kotaku that'll tie horror movies and horror games together. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year!

News You Can Use!

Dudes and y'alls, we all know that The Internet is the place to be. But sometimes one wants to hold The Internet their bosoms, yes? To carry it around and read it until one falls asleep in its arms not to sit in front of a computer all the time, but to have a tactile Internet experience anywhere one chooses. That is when one must turn to "books."

SO RUDE, ALWAYS SO RUDE.

Look, yes, fine, one can have a tactile Internet experience anywhere at anytime these days, and I am not just talking about Grindr. Phones are pocket computers, but who cares? They're just a fad! Books are where it's at, man. Books will be there for you after the apocalypse when there is no more electricity! Books. They're great.

Speaking of great books (what are the odds?) here's one:

Yes indeed! Alexandra West–surely you know her from the Faculty of Horror podcast, or any one of the million places she writes for (Famous Monsters, Shock Till You Drop, etc forever) lays down some smart writing about one of horror's most maligned eras. And YES that is my name there–surely you know me from what you're reading right now–credited with the foreword. I'm really excited about this! I'm sure you are, too, but here's the skinny if your appetite needs further whetting:

Many critics and fans refer to the 1990s as the decade that horror forgot, with few notable entries in the genre. Yet horror went mainstream in the ’90s by speaking to the anxieties of American youth during one of the country’s most prosperous eras.

No longer were films made on low budgets and dependent on devotees for success. Big studios produced summer blockbusters that made careers and big box office returns. Horror found its way onto magazine covers, fashion ads and CD soundtrack covers. “Girl power” feminism and a growing distaste for consumerism defined an audience that both embraced and rejected the commercial appeal of these films. This in-depth study examines the youth subculture, history and politics of the era, focusing on such films as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Scream (1996), I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), Idle Hands (1999), and Cherry Falls (2000).

The 1990s Teen Horror Cycle will be available this winter from McFarland Books. Pre-order available here. Take that, you lousy computer phones! Books rule!

Friday the 13th Part THE GAME: Final Girl vs Jason

As we all know, there's street smarts (gained via various life experiences) and and there's book smarts (gained via being a nerd), and it's not often the twain get to meetin'. "Sure, sure, maybe you know how to start a fire with nothing but two sticks and some hope," a nerd might say. "But do you know anything about the Teapot Dome Scandal?"

"Who cares?" the streetwise sassafras may reply. "I know all of the spots in my neighborhood where I can mooch off of someone's unprotected wifi. That's way cooler than something something quadratic equations."

My point is, as I have journeyed through life, as I have evolved from a nubile ingenue wizened crone into a full-on swamp hag, I have come to realize that I am severely lacking in street smarts, and nowhere is this deficiency more evident than in the realm of horror. Yes yes, I can talk about Amityville 4: The Evil Escapes all damn day (and I will, just try me)...I can bore dazzle you with some sweet-ass subtext analyzin' or maybe yet another list of obscure titles. But what good will all this nerd knowledge do me when I come face to mask with a deranged, homicidal wackadoo with copious mommy issues? Absolutely none.

You would think I'd know how to behave in Horror Movie Situations. You would think I'd be the last one alive, the one who gets away...geez, it's right there in my blog name.

You would think all that. But thanks to Friday the 13th: The Game, I've learned some cold, hard truths about myself. The biggest, perhaps, is that I should probably change the name of this blog to THE ONE WHO HAS TROUBLE OPENING DOORS AND MAKES BAD DECISIONS AND IS PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS THE FIRST TO DIE. It's not as catchy as "FINAL GIRL", but it's much more honest.

*record scratch* YES THERE'S A FRIDAY THE 13th VIDEO GAME.

*record scratch* YES THAT'S THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS POST.

Friday the 13th in an asymmetrical 3rd-person survival horror game for PS4, Xbox One, and PC that attempts–and often succeeds–at capturing the spirit of the wonderful, terrible, long-running film series. You can play as Jason Voorhees and stalk all the jerks your mommy has told you to kill, or you can play as one of the counselors, desperately trying to find some means of escape. The game maps and Jasons are pulled directly from the films (for example, Part 2's Baghead Jason might chase you through Higgins Haven, as seen in Parts 3 and 4), while the counselors are more simple homages to movie characters, such as the designer impostor version of Violet from A New Beginning.

Jason has a plethora of skills and tools at his disposal: he can teleport throughout the map, lay down bear traps, and sense where you are. Counselors have varying strength and stats–things like stamina and repair–and can find weapons and first aid sprays scattered throughout the numerous cabins. There are several ways to make it out alive: fix up a car and drive on home, fix up a boat and boat on home, fix the telephone and call the cops, or simply survive for the entire 20 minutes of a match. Chances are, though, Jason is gonna get you. This is Friday the 13th, man! That's what he does! The movies feature a "Final Girl", not a "Final Everybody", after all.

As I intimated earlier, I'm pretty bad at this game. I die. A lot. Should I play as Jason (the killer is randomly chosen as the match starts), I bumble around and the body count is low. Sometimes, salvation is within my grasp and it still slips away, like in this clip, where some dude can't wait one second for me to get in the boat and he drives away, leaving me to my (eventual) fate:



And despite all of my ineptitude and horrifying win/loss record, every single match is so much damn fun. I have screamed and been startled so many times that I'm sure several years have been taken off my life. I've been creeped out, I've cried from laughter...it's just a grand ol' violent time, particularly if you play with friends. I mean, there's more tension in this gif than there is some of the later entries in the film series:


Critical reviews for the game haven't been kind; in fact, they've been fairly excruciating. Many of the criticisms are fair: Friday the 13th was not developed by a AAA studio, and it shows. When you die, you become a spectator–leaving a match early means you gain no xp, and if you die early, well...you're gonna be spectating for a while, and that might bore you. There are glitches, bugs, and server issues that crop up somewhat frequently. These issues are being addressed, however, and a recent patch improved wait times dramatically. Essentially, the game is only going to get better, and bigger: there's a story mode planned for release later this year, and you can be sure the game will expand via DLC. There is a shit ton of potential for this game to grow and improve and enjoy a long lifespan.

While the critical reviews have been damning, player reviews have been stellar, generally boiling down to yeah, it's got some jankiness but I don't care, I'm having a blast. As a Friday the 13th fan, there is so much to love here: I can play as a designer impostor Chris Higgins or a Baghead Jason. I can find Jason's cabin and put on his mom's crusty old sweater. If you die or escape early, there's a chance you can return as Tommy Jarvis. Jason can punch my head clean off à la Part VIII, or he can finish me off with the famous sleeping bag death from Part VII. It's frequently scary, frequently hilarious, always bloody, and often captures the essence of what makes slasher films so enjoyable. Honestly, I'd only be happier if I could play as Ethel Hubbard or the Banana Girl Hitchhiker. I've got my fingers crossed they'll be available eventually.

Knock Jason's mask off and reveal the grossness underneath!

I'm absolutely addicted to this game, I'm telling you. If you want to see it in action, to see me make a complete fool of myself and get murdered in any number of disgusting ways, I'll be livestreaming with my video game super pal Travis this Sunday, the 11th, at 7pm EST on my new twitch channel. To be honest, it's kind of all I want to do with my life at this point...so hopefully I'll see you at Higgins Haven! (For the ten seconds before Jason rips my jaw off, yay!)

Speaking of actors...

...I recently watched this Hollywood Reporter Actress Roundtable and Tribute to Diversity in Cinema (ha ha just kidding, they're all super white!) and while an hour is a big commitment, I would sincerely like to draw your attention to one thing. Begin at 23:07 for context; the one thing happens about 25 seconds later.


Yes, I saw that and then I died, and I am now blogging from beyond the grave.

For those of you unable to watch, here's the lowdown: the interviewer asks Kate Winslet if there's anything she would never do as an actress. She replies that she wouldn't do a film that features violence against children, nor does she think she would ever do a horror film...

...to which Cate Blanchett (TRUE QUEEN) replies, very seriously and earnestly, "Oh, I love horror films. I love them."

She talks a bit about horror that feels too gratuitous or exploitative (particularly in regards to violence against women) and pointless, but I love that she's talking about them seriously at all. She loves horror films, you guys. How many A listers–particularly actresses–would even acknowledge the genre, never mind admitting to indulging in it? The reaction to her statement at the table is bafflement, it's so great.

Someone needs to give her a juicy horror script right this second. A del Toro joint? Something from Peter Strickland maybe? A re-team with Sam Raimi? Ooh, maybe she can reprise her role as Carol except now Carol is a Carmilla. Did any of you win that big lottery yesterday? Fund this shit, please!

Masterpiece Theatre...of, Like, Blood and Whatever

So listen, to be honest with you guys I have not watched a lot of horror lately. The things I am anxious to see have not made their way to my orbit yet (hey The Witch will you hurry up and get in my face, please please??) and everything that is currently in my orbit seems dull. Thus, I have been indulging hardcore in my other lifelong cinematic obsession, actresses acting the shit out of stuff. I could talk about these movies here–you know, write a million words about every frame and moment of Carol, or maybe a piece praising Marion Cotillard's posture throughout Two Days, One Night–but horror is Final Girl's wheelhouse and so I simply bother everyone around me with these other thoughts. The world is either richer or poorer for it, I am sure.

Anyway, this all got me thinking–what are some of the great performances in horror? What actors and actresses fucking kill it and make you grateful that cinema exists? It doesn't have to be a lead character, or any performer you've ever heard of. It can just be a single, small moment that rings perfectly true and leaves you breathless. Some of my favorites:

- Sissy Spacek in Carrie, obviously, heartbreaking even when she's terrifying
- Donald Sutherland wailing as he holds the lifeless body of his young daughter in Don't Look Now
- Essie Davis in The Babadook, a performance which would have been nominated for an Academy Award if the world were just. The movie isn't "the scariest thing you've ever seen" as the marketing promised, but it is an astonishingly honest depiction of depression and grief with some horror thrown in.

- Veronica Cartwright losing her shit in Alien
- All of Martyrs, of course, but the moment where Lucie stands on the bed and fires her shotgun at the daughter hiding underneath...it's such a fleeting moment, but Juliette Gosselin's reaction is pure, unadulterated fear–something that horror calls for so often and is so hard for actors to truly deliver.

I have some more in mind but I want to hear from you! What and who are your faves? And don't everybody say Lynda Day George in Pieces, we all know that flawless performance can't be touched.

Day 8: ALL CHEERLEADERS DIE (2013)

"Crazy wicca bullshit."

I knew nothing about All Cheerleaders Die before giving it the good ol' fashioned SHOCKtober go (which sounds a lot hotter than it is, trust me). Wait, that's not true: I knew it was co-written and co-directed by fan fave Lucky McKee, but that didn't get me all excited because I didn't dig May (2002) (holy shit, 2002? that came out in 2002?? how fucking old am I? *turns to dust*) as much as most people. I mean, yeah, I liked it. Of course I liked it! Anna Faris and Angela Bettis are in it, and so is the dude who played Elton in Clueless, and as we all know, Clueless rules. I just mean that everyone seems to hump May's leg, and I'm like, well I could hump it, but I've seen better legs. You know how it is. The point is, I thought this was going to be some postmodern slasher movie or something because nobody seems to be humping All Cheerleaders Die's leg, so I hadn't bothered to read up on it. Turns out, this is not a slasher flick, postmodern or otherwise. It also turns out that I loved this movie so much, why isn't everybody humping its leg??

Look, this imdb.com summary does a really good job of, you know, summarizing the plot:

A rebel girl signs up a group of cheerleaders to help her take down the captain of their high school football team, but a supernatural turn of events thrusts the girls into a different battle.

But there is so much waiting for you to discover, as All Cheerleaders Die goes to unexpected and delightful places. It reminded me of two other films that I heart oh so very hard: Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II and The Convent. All three movies have humor, sure, but more than that there's a kind of glee running through them. They are goofy and dorky and take their non-seriousness very seriously. The FX are generally fakey-looking, but it doesn't matter. All Cheerleaders Die is the tamest, least sort-of-gonzo of the trio, but it's a good time just the same. They're fun. And sometimes fun is fun! Yes, even when it's mixed with horror.

All Cheerleaders Die has a lot of the charms that make up the charm bracelet of my life and the things I love: supernatural horror, witches, lesbian witches, clearly defined "bad guys", the simple guilt-free catharsis you sometimes get from revenge movies, and more. The end of the film left room for a sequel–quite literally, in fact, as a title screen called this "Part One." While yesterday I didn't know All Cheerleaders Die from a hole in my head, now everything has changed and I hope that "Part One" business wasn't just a joke because let me tell you, I'm humping Part Two's leg already!

Day 1: STARRY EYES (2014)

"I am not a million other girls."

As someone who has done a fuck ton of theater, I have been on both sides of the table at an audition plenty of times. Each side is wonderful and excruciating. Everyone can imagine what it's like for an actor. You might be there for a cold reading, or maybe you've had time to rehearse. You could perform a scene from the show you're auditioning for, or you could bust out some monologue you've been working on forever. Regardless, you've got a few minutes (if you're lucky) to impress, then you're out the door.

Honestly, though, I found the other side of the table more difficult. Face after eager, hopeful face, doing whatever they can to get your approval, to be The One you cast. The ever-so-expensive headshots with poses chosen according to the audition; is it a comedy? Best to provide a picture where you're making a very slightly wacky face–a crooked smile, a wryly raised eyebrow–so they know you can be quirky and funny. Trying out for a lawyer role? Use the one where you're in a blazer, maybe wearing glasses with your hair up in a Sensible Bun so they know you can portray someone who can say things like "Habeus corpus, Your Honor!" or what-the-fuck-ever. Then on to the next, and to the next, and the next. I remember one time, an actor "just happened" to have a box of donuts with him, no really, he just stopped, and wouldn't we like to have some, he'll just leave them right there on the table, please, they're very good?

It was all that hope, my heart couldn't really take it. I mean, I loved it in that soul-crushing way, you know? These people, all trying. Whatever their true motivations were, however noble or superficial–whether they simply loved the creative process or they just wanted to tell stories or they only wanted to see their face on the cover of People magazine–whatever, they were putting themselves out there, hoping to be picked. I couldn't help but wonder about them all, where they'd end up. Some might go on to be regular working actors, on stage or on screen. There was always a chance they could end up FAMOUS. But for so many, there would likely come that moment where they say "Well, I tried." They would stop with the auditioning, they wouldn't get new headshots, acting would become a dream of the past. Sometimes they would go on to better things, to a career they're more suited for, a life more fulfilling. But that moment...I love making theater, I love love love it, but that moment is too much for me to think about every time someone walks into the room. I decided that I would rather find my own Dreamlanders and make my own shit forever than take a chance that someone would ever try to give me a box of donuts again.

I'm telling you all this because man, it all came flooding back to me last night whilst watching Starry Eyes, wherein hopeful actress Sarah (Alex Essoe) goes to...let's say extreme lengths in her bid for fame and fortune. "Dreams require sacrifice," says the mysterious and powerful film producer. When hard work and talent aren't enough, how far will Sarah go to prove she's worthy of a leading role? (SPOILER: she does more than bring the guy a box of donuts.)

Some of you suggested in the comments here that I'd love this movie and guess what: HOLY SHIT DID I. Starry Eyes begins as a slow burn character study and ends up a violent, super gory, body horror-flavored look at the price of fame and the history of Hollywood. It's like someone took some of the themes of Mulholland Dr., the movie that Contracted wanted to be (or should have been), a tiny dab of Suspiria, some actresses and other Los Angelenos I have known, and a splash of '80s-inspired soundtrack goodness and blended it all up. Alex Essoe gives a hell of a performance, the gore is insane, and it's a wholly original take on timeless legends on acquiring both fame and talent. I don't want to spoil anything! But it's highly recommended. SHOCKtober can only be downhill from here!

And just to prove that's true: tomorrow's film is ATM. I sure hope it brings me some donuts!

Now is as good a time as any...

...to make a wee bit of an announcement-thing, sort of a "Hey, this is happening so your eyes–keep them peeled!" Although honestly, now that I've started typing this, I am worried this is like a "save the date" email, or maybe when someone releases a trailer teasing the release of a trailer and you think, "Why not just wait for the thing itself and tell me about it, you assholes!"

So basically, maybe saying this now makes me a bit of an asshole? And maybe my penchant for calling people who invite me to things "assholes" is the reason why I don't get invited places? Or do you think that's because they're jealous of me? They're probably jealous.

Anyway, it was mentioned in the comments a few days ago, so I figured I'd might as well mention it on the "front page", as it were. Extry, extry, read all about it: I've been commissioned to write a book–well, a monograph, really, you know, like those things published by the BFI? About movies? They're these cool pocket-size works, running, oh, about 125 pages or so. I've got a few, like one about Night of the Living Dead, and one about The Birds (written by Camille Paglia! Can you believe that shit), and–about Martyrs. Yes! I've been telling you for years that I'm going to write about it, and now here we are. And instead of a blog post, I am writing a shit ton about it! It's super exciting. Super. I am so excited. Martyrs. Fuck yeah!

That's the opening of the book: "Martyrs. Fuck yeah!" Pretty good, right? *brushes off shoulders like a cool person*

Just kidding, that's not how it starts. But Martyrs, though. Fuck yeah!

It'll be published through Electric Dreamhouse Press, a new cinema imprint from PS Publishing. The lineup is killer, I have to say, and I'm proud to be a part of it and I want to dig in to all of these, because would you just look at the movies and the writers? WOULD YOU JUST LOOK?

EYES WITHOUT A FACE – Michael Brooke
THEATRE OF BLOOD - John Llewellyn Probert
CARNIVAL OF SOULS – Stephen Bissette
MARTYRS – Stacie Ponder
DEATHLINE – Sean Hogan
DRESSED TO KILL – Mike Sutton
THE KARNSTEIN TRILOGY – Angela Slatter
THE TENANT – Kevin Jackson
SINISTER – Mark Morris
FRANKENSTEIN MUST BE DESTROYED – Dennis Cozzalio
LET’S SCARE JESSICA TO DEATH – Lynda E. Rucker
ISLAND OF LOST SOULS – Jonathan Rigby
THE UNHOLY THREE – Johnny Mains
THE FURY – Howard S. Berger & Kevin Marr
MARTIN – Jez Winship
TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME – Maura McHugh
BLOOD ON SATAN’S CLAW – Kimberly Lindbergs
ERASERHEAD – Anton Bitel
THE BRIDES OF DRACULA – Richard Harland Smith
SPIDER BABY – Stephen R. Bissette
SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE – Stacie Ponder
BLACK SUNDAY – Angela Slatter
THE DEVIL RIDES OUT – Maura McHugh
BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA – Mike Sutton
FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE – John Llewellyn Probert
THE HILLS HAVE EYES – Richard Harland Smith
VALERIE & HER WEEK OF WONDERS – Jez Winship

Kimberly Lindbergs on Blood on Satan's Claw? Gimme gimme! Richard Harland Smith on The Hills Have Eyes? Is this a dream? A whole volume dedicated to Let's Scare Jessica to Death? Did I die and go to the afterlife or what. And yes! I am also writing about Slumber Party Massacre down the line. I'm so psyched. 95 pages will be dedicated to the pizza scene, I promise.

So the imprint is in its infancy, but here is the gist. You can email and, like, get emails and interact with the Facebook page if Facebook is something you do.

ELECTRIC DREAMHOUSE PRESS, a new cinema imprint from PS Publishing and Editor Neil Snowdon (We Are The Martians: The Legacy Of Nigel Kneale), specialising in Cult and Genre Cinema. 

Kicking off with MIDNIGHT MOVIE MONOGRAPHS, an ongoing series of in-depth writings about the less reputable side of the cinephile universe, and bringing together genre authors, film-makers and some of the most interesting critical voices in the field, this is passionate, incisive, entertaining film writing of the highest order. If you have a taste for Cult and Genre movies, this is for YOU. 

Pre-Orders are not yet available (release dates TBA), but you can register your interest by emailing: editor@electricdreamhouse.co.uk or Liking the Facebook Page and leaving a comment.

This is exciting, right? You guys. You guys. YOU GUYS.

VHS Week Day 7: Q- The Winged Serpent (1982)

Y'all've been telling me since the beginning of time to fix my peepers on Q, but for whatever reason I never took the advice to heart. Maybe it's because I always want to like movies from writer/director Larry Cohen more than I actually do? Maybe I was never in the mood for a monster movie?

MAYBE I'M JUST A MORON BECAUSE HOLY CRAP Q IS SO GREAT WHY DID I WAIT SO LONG.

Is it overstating things to say that it's one of the best B movies I've ever seen? I don't know, and I don't really care. All I know is that I was not expecting to have so much fun watching it...yes, even though you guys have been telling me. It's a humbling lesson I've learned, I'll never doubt you again, etc etc.

A series of Aztec-flavored human sacrifices leads to the resurrection of the Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent deity. Quetzalcoatl roosts in the Chrysler Building and flies around Manhattan chomping on New Yorkers whilst the police try to stop Quetzalcoatl and the human sacrifices, the end. This is the stuff dreams are made of, my friends! Especially when it's early-80s Manhattan, full of gangsters and assorted other bada bing baba dook types, and especially especially when the cops on the case are played by David Carradine and Richard Roundtree.

And especially especially ESPECIALLY when things like this happen:

THOSE GANGLY LIMBS. Glorious, ain't it? Scenes like that are why movies were invented.

I love that everyone plays the material straight (especially Michael Moriarty as a weaselly two-bit crook), but a little twinkle in their eyes belies the fun they're having with the material. I love that every random kill scene is set up a bit like the opening scenes from Law & Order–you know, like, two construction workers will talk about sandwiches on their lunch break when OH MY GAHD THERE'S A DEAD BODY. In Q, it's more like two construction workers talk about sandwiches on their lunch break when OH MY GAHD ONE JUST GOT HIS HEAD BIT CLEAN OFF BY AN ANCIENT AZTEC GIANT FLYING LIZARD BIRD. It happens over and over again, and I could never get enough of it. Ever.

Boy oh boy, what a way to end VHS Week, I tell ya! Listen, I'd really like to thank you all for introducing me to Q. You're all invited to our nuptials, which will of course take place on the roof of a skyscraper. I can't promise that you won't die when Q flips out and tosses you off that roof, but it will fill me with so much delight that it'll be worth it!

This is the best thing.

YouTube user gigerbrick has done gone and made a trailer for the trashtastic 1977 film The Car (honk, honkhonkhoonnnnnnnk) using in-game PS4 footage from Grand Theft Auto 5. I bow before the perfection!

a gallery of lurid lit

I spend a lot of time thinking about Clamato...juice? Beverage? Well, okay, maybe I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it, but I certainly a fair amount of time thinking about it. Too much time! Which is to say, more than no time. Most of this thinking is ruminating on exactly how disgusting Clamato would taste; for those of you who are blissfully ignorant, it is "a light, refreshing beverage and an intense flavor, seasoned with a mixture of tomatoes, onions, celery, spices and a touch of clam."

A TOUCH OF CLAM.

If that's not the name of a lost album by Vanity 6, then the world is lesser for it.

Anyway, I'm sure all my questions would be answered if I would just partake in some Clamato, but that would involve...you know, partaking in some Clamato.

Also, if "partaking in some Clamato" doesn't become a standard euphemism for something I don't want to type here because my mom is probably reading this, then the world is lesser for it.

I began thinking about Clamato in earnest in college (*insert women's college joke here*) because I had a painting teacher who must have imbibed that shit by the fuck ton. There were empty Clamato bottles all over the place for us to use to hold turpentine or whatever- I mean, even if they were empty apple juice bottles, you would have thought it was weird because there were so many of them. But Clamato? So much Clamato? It was a mystery I wanted to get to the bottom of, but I never did and it obviously haunts me to this day.

Another mystery that will no doubt plague me forever is how this introduction about Clamato was supposed to tie into the main content of this post. Seriously, I have absolutely no idea where I meant to go with that when I started typing, but I'm not going to just erase it all because I feel as if I've exorcised some demons. Or, at least, I've pointed at the demons and said "I notice you", which is a step towards something. Maybe? I don't know. This is getting weird.

So hey, horror books! I can't resist 'em, and I thought I'd put up a wee gallery of cover scans in all their lurid glory. Some of these are novelizations, some provided the basis for movies, some are just books. Some of them are okay, most of them are crap! But those covers, baby, make 'em worth it no matter what, not unlike the sensational VHS boxes of yore. A skeleton in winter gear riding a tricycle? An apartment building whose entire first floor is a big mouth? That pig on the cover of The Farm? Gold, all gold!

SHOCKtober: 30-21

Holy crap, the Top 30. How is it all almost over? SHOCKtober, I'm mourning you already.

Each of the following films received six votes:

30. Friday the 13th -- 1980, Sean S. Cunningham

29. 28 Days Later -- 2002, Danny Boyle

28. Martyrs -- 2008, Pascal Laugier

The following films received eight votes each:

27. Insidious -- 2010, James Wan

26. Night of the Living Dead -- 1968, George Romero

25. Suspiria -- 1977, Dario Argento

24. The Thing -- 1982, John Carpenter

23. The Omen -- 1976, Richard Donner

These received nine votes each:

22. Candyman -- 1992, Bernard Rose

21. Black Christmas -- 1974, Bob Clark

Oh look, what's the one lonely movie up there without a corresponding link, meaning I've never reviewed it, nor have I written anything much in depth about it? Martyrs. Damn you, Martyrs! I've been saying I'm going to write something about it for years now. Maybe it's just too much of a thing, I don't know. There's too much to say about it. I don't know! But it's one of my favorite horror movies. Sigh.

As I've said before, it's interesting to see how this list compares to SHOCKtober 2010, how "what's scared you" compares to your "favorites". Here we've got Suspiria at #25...it was #8 in 2010. And The Thing, #24 on your scaries list, came in second on your faves list. See? Interesting. It doesn't always take many actual frights to make a horror movie a favorite. THAT IS SO PROFOUND.

Oh, and speaking of Suspiria...it was a Film Club choice way back when and you should check out the post because Jessica fucking Harper left a comment on it and that is a very awesome thing.

Film Club: The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh

I don't know what things are things anymore, so I ask: is complaining that there's no original horror on the market nowadays still a thing? If it is, everyone should stop that right now. RIGHT NOW I SAY. There's been massive amounts of original horror on the market for, oh, the last five-six years or so. Sure, maybe the good stuff doesn't always make it to your local cinetheatermultiplexateria, but it's out there. The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh (2012) is one mighty fine example.

After the death of his mother Rosalind (Vanessa Redgrave), Antiques dealer Leon Leigh (Aaron Poole) returns to her home to take stock of whatever she's left behind. A night spent in the house he hasn't seen in years leaves him grappling with memories of childhood abuse, attempting to suss out his mother's involvement with a angel-worshipping cult, and perhaps running from the evil forces of the same.

You won't be wrong if you expect that writer/director Rodrigo Gudino's pedigree as the founder of Rue Morgue magazine means he knows a little something about crafting an effective horror film. Rosalind Leigh is unsettling throughout, building to a final twenty minutes or so of pure terror. Mind, this ain't one for the blood-n-guts jumpscare jump cut crowd. Rather, it's quiet, cerebral, and yes, the slowest of slow burns. Patience is rewarded, as I assume repeat viewings would be. To put it bluntly, Gudino's film make those of Ti West look like action-packed thrill rides, and that's certainly not going to cut it for every genre fan.

I've never seen anything structured quite like Rosalind Leigh. It may not make any sense, but it plays a bit like a feature-length short film. It's very confined in both time and space: it's one man spending one night in one house. There are other characters but they are only voices on the phone, voices hidden behind doors, perhaps glimpsed in a video or a flashback. Although she's dead, Rosalind's presence weighs heavy in every scene, sometimes amplified by the sadness and longing in Redgrave's terrific voiceover work.

Religion is at the forefront of Rosalind Leigh, and her sprawling, angel-filled house is like Margaret White's wet dream mansion. If you've ever found Christian iconography disquieting, this film is going to get your panties in, like, ten twists. The camera lingers on faces, in corners, in the dark, and you're never quite sure what's going to move. This place is a nightmare and were I Leon, I'd have nuked it from orbit.

nope, no thank you

Gudino lays down some ideas about faith and superstition, about the loving God/vengeful God dichotomy and belief: does it make things happen, or prevent them from happening? (I found myself thinking that it must be pretty stressful to live as a hardcore True Believer, always worried about pissing off the dude in charge, you know?) While it opens the door to discussion, however, Rosalind Leigh ultimately doesn't provide a true resolution to the goings-on. Whether or not the film satisfies you in the end may be in direct proportion to your willingness to let questions go un answered. To me, the ride was most definitely worth it.

And if there's one thing that The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh taught me, it's that under no circumstances should you ever drop your fucking fork.

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While you're waiting for tomorrow...

...here is a thing you can do besides simply stuffing your face with candy corn. Perhaps you remember- or perhaps you don't, I wouldn't know, I'm not your mother- In Satan's Closet, which is a fake trailer that I made once upon a time. It's an ode to Italian horror movies from the 70s, particularly the ones about possession. And yeah, it's a "trailer" that's longer than many short films. So sue me!


Anyway, the point of me talking about myself is this: tell me I'm pretty! friend o' Final Girl and illustrator extraordinaire Chuck Ramos made a friggin' poster for In Satan's Closet, and it's just so good, you guys. Then he went and submitted the design to Threadless for a contest they're holding. Contests mean that The People of the Internet must unite, and by "unite" I mean "fucking vote".

But hey, like I said: you're looking for something to do, right? Then make with the click-click, and let's get this shit on a shirt! Because it's awesome!

Yeah! The contest runs for four more days, so tell your friends to put down their bite-size Baby Ruths for a minute and get ta votin'. Every time a vote is cast, an angel gets punched in the face by a possessed nun!

Film Club: Deadly Blessing

I'm...not exactly sure how to write about Wes Craven's 1981 shocker Shocker Deadly Blessing. It's kind of a seven-layer dip of a movie: all these different flavors competing with each other but trying to work together, turning into a big mess that sits in your stomach like a gelatinous lump of regret. Mind you, the regret comes later; while you're eating it, your eyes focus on some distant, imaginary point and you find yourself saying a little too loudly, "I don't know what's happening to me and I'm not sure if I entirely like it, but I might and so I'll just keep going." Yes, in this way Deadly Blessing is exactly like a seven-layer dip.

So you've got Jim (Douglas Barr) and his wife Martha (Maren Jensen, who was Athena on the original Battlestar Galactica and what more do you need to know) tending to their farm in a young, carefree fashion. To one side of their land they've got the Hittites, a wackadoo religious sect led by Isaiah (Ernest fucking Borgnine). On t'other they've got Louisa (Lois Nettleton) and Faith (a pre-nosejob Lisa Hartman), a wackadoo mother and daughter.

And then stuff happens.

I mean really, it's true- a bunch of stuff happens and I swear, I was scratching my head trying to connect the dots to basically no avail. Stuff. Just. Happens.

• In the dead of night, Jim gets run over in his barn by his tractor. Was someone driving the tractor? We don't know.
• Hittite Michael Berryman lurks a lot, and for a while you think "Okay, so Deadly Blessing is about this creeper..." but then he's stabbed and killed by someone. BUT WHO, DEADLY BLESSING? BUT WHO.
• Isaiah calls all the non-Hittite women "incubus". What? Does he mean "succubus"? Does he mean anything? We don't know.

Isaiah about to slap the Satan right outta dat William Katt-alike

• Lana (Sharon Stone) and Vicky (Susan Buckner), old pals of Martha, show up to help the young widow ease into young widowhood.
• A dog gets a blast of mace to the face!
• "You are a stench in a nostril to God." - Isaiah
• Lana starts dreaming about a guy and spiders and a guy who is a spider, and everyone is like "Shut up, Lana."
• Sharon Stone, amirite? I mean, in this movie a spider goes in her mouth! She did a shit ton of work before 1992, when a simple flash-o-vagina brought her stardom in Basic Instinct. I am just saying, let's give that broad some credit. If not for this, then for 1984's Calendar Girl Murders.
  
• Ill-timed, overblown music cues turn ordinary moments into big exciting movie moments, like, say, Martha putting her hair in a ponytail.
• Lana has a run-in with some spiders and maybe a guy in the barn and she cries a lot, and everyone is like "Get over it, Lana."
• Someone is killing people! Sometimes by practical means, like stabbing or setting a car on fire with the driver inside...and sometimes by nonsensical means, like putting a snake in a bathtub. And I'm going to pretend that the shot of Nancy in the tub in A Nightmare on Elm Street was Wes Craven saying "Hey guys, remember when I had this same shot in Deadly Blessing? What the heck was with that movie, anyway? That was some seven-layer dip shit!"

• Lana goes to pour some milk only to discover that someone has replaced the milk with Folgers Crystals blood! She screams and makes a mess everywhere, and everyone is like "Lana, GO HOME."
• There's a coffin full of chickens.

Y'all, this movie is really as all-over-the-place as I've made it out to be. Deadly Blessing is a hot mess, a bunch of storylines competing for dominance and making practically no sense.

But then...the last ten minutes. I'm not going to give away anything here, because...the last ten minutes of this film should not be given away. Let me just say that it's jaw-dropping. It is women punching, shooting, flying around due to punches and/or gunshots, and making crazy faces. It is a big pile of total what-the-fuckery, and it completely redeems all that came before. And just when you think it is over, it is not. And then your jaw- still dropped!- will say "fuck this" and throw itself out your window. It's amazing.

So for that and also this production still of Martha, Lana, and Vicky? I will certainly regret you later, Deadly Blessing, but for now...you win. You win.

Totally lezzed out together in college.

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Eclipse Babies are here!

YOU GUYS. Do you know what came out on DVD this week? Umm, only one of the best ever movies about killer kids: Bloody Birthday, duh. I just thought you should know.

SO YOU CAN WATCH IT.

What the spambots are saying about...

(click it and it will grow!)

bonding over furniture

Sometimes you watch a movie and it's such a transcendent thing, it makes you feel so damn happy just to be alive. I AM SO HAPPY I EXIST, you might say, IF ONLY SO I CAN PARTAKE IN THIS FILM. You feel connected to humanity; you remember that we're all together in some way, struggling and thriving during our all-too-brief time on this planet. It's like the feeling embodied by that old Coke commercial; you know, the one about being a hippie and having communal carbonated beverage experiences.
This is how I suddenly find myself feeling about Amityville 4: The Evil Escapes. You know, the one about the evil, possessed floor lamp. I just love that someone came up with that ridiculous idea and wrote it down and passed it on. All the way down the line, people said AN EVIL, POSSESSED FLOOR LAMP? OKAY! to this idea, from the money men to Patty Duke to the TV stations that bought the rights to me and everyone else who bought the DVD or video or watched it on television. We all said YES to the evil floor lamp and cheered loudly when the evil floor lamp went over a cliff and exploded at the bottom.
An evil, possessed floor lamp! This, my friends, is life.

Other people make things, too!

I have this friend named Brent Engstrom, and he's one of my favorite artists, straight-up. STRAIGHT-UP, people. He does sketch cards and illustrations for stuff you've heard of: Mad Magazine, Star Wars, Garbage Pail Kids, Wacky Packages...all the weird, twisted stuff I ate up as a kid, the weird, twisted stuff that was highly influential in making me the...person I am today. Brent's work is, as you might expect, largely weird and twisted and full of black humor. You know, kids with smiles full of rotten teeth and worms in their ears. In other words, awesomely delightful, and I love it.

He's got some horror/Garbage Pail-flavored mashup cards up on his blog. I'm posting only a couple; check out the rest and explore his site- lots of goodness abounds. And if you're in the market for a sketchcard or some such, hit him up. The dude can do anything!

Happy Anniversary to The Silence of the Lambs

That's right kids- as my pal JA pointed out at My New Plaid Pants, The Silence of the Lambs is 20. Twenty. Twennnntyyyyyy GD years old. This doesn't seem possible- why, I saw Silence in the theater (a couple of times, in fact) and I'm only 18.

Anyold, I felt like giving Silence some love today. But how? I've already reviewed it. I've already talked about how it's one of my favorite horror films. I could go on and on about the genius way Jonathan Demme puts the audience squarely in Clarice Starling's cheap shoes by having every character who speaks to her look directly into the camera, making eye contact with the viewer. I could talk about how and why it's really the best work Jodie Foster's ever done in her lengthy career. I could talk about how the true sneaky ninja superstar of the film is Kristi Zea's impeccable production design. But, you know, it's raining outside and so I feel like going to browse at the used bookstore (it's this weird primal reaction I have to rainy days...I don't get it, so don't worry if you don't get it)...therefore, I will simply post up a gallery of delightful images from the film. Happy Anniversary, The Silence of the Lambs! Don't worry- I can't smell anything.