Chilling Classics Cthursday: JESSE JAMES MEETS FRANKENSTEIN'S DAUGHTER (1966)

As you may know by now, each week's Chilling Classic is chosen by a random number generator, lest I forever flip back and forth through all 12 discs trying to figure out which movie I'm in the mood for. It's best to put my faith, as always, into RNGesus's hands. And so it was Mill Creek's will that I sat down with Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter (1966), which is really the only way I ever would have sat down with it. The title alone screams "not my bag," and I will admit to a heavy sigh as I pressed play. It was a "lie back and think of England Chilling Classics Cthursday" scenario! Now, on the other side of having done my duty (or at least half of my duty: I still have a lot of post to write), I can say with a bold confidence that I have, in fact, seen Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter.

As is the case with the seminal 1985 film The Nail Gun Massacre, the title Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter tells you all you need to know. Famous outlaw Jesse James does indeed meet Frankenstein's daughter! Truth in advertising. A blessing in this chatbot-riddled world, amirite? Love it.

Dr. Maria Frankenstein  (Narda Onyx) and her assistant Rudolph have immigrated to the American southwest from Vienna. The desert lightning storms are great for their evil experiments, experiments that began attracting the attention of authorities in Europe. Now, tucked far away in a matte painting an abandoned mission, they prey on the local Mexican population; When young men die in the lab, they quickly dispose of the bodies, telling grieving families that it had to be done for fear of spreading a contagious disease.

Maria is a mad scientist who takes after her grandfather Victor, wanting to create a living automaton that will do her bidding. She makes it clear that her father was a wuss who--much like Rudolph--didn't have the stomach to do what it takes to get this unethical shit done. So she keeps bringing up her grandfather, which might make you wonder for a second why they didn't call this Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Granddaughter. But that's a more awkward title, no? Maybe someday future nerds will argue over this in some even lame-er parallel to the "it's actually Frankenstein's monster" arguments. Yes, she is still a Frankenstein's daughter, but that Frankenstein isn't the Frankenstein you're thinking of. The point is...WHO CARES, I guess. Especially when we have more important things to talk about, like the way her lab coat is more of an overcoat!

Meanwhile, Jesse James and his "friend" (I put those quotes there to fuel your imagination), the hulking lummox Hank, decide to rob a stagecoach with Butch Cassidy Curry and the Wild Bunch. But Curry's brother rats out the gang to the Marshall, who is played by STOP THE PRESSES none other than Jim Davis--no, not the inventor of Garfield Jim Davis. (Although how cool would that be?) I'm talking about the Jim Davis who portrayed none other than Jock Ewing on a little something called television's Dallas! Reader, I fell out of my chair, puked in my pants with excitement, and started spinning around in a circle going WOOB WOOB WOOB like whichever Three Stooge does that. I will never doubt the powers of the almighty RNGesus ever again!

Thanks to the ol' double cross, there's a shootout during the stagecoach robbery, and Hank takes a bullet for Jesse, as friends do.

As they're wanted by the law, they can't go to just any old doctor. The pair stumble across the Lopez family, who have left town after their son died at the hands of Dr. Frankenstein. The daughter, Juanita, reluctantly directs Jesse and Hank to Castle Mission Frankenstein. On the way, they are attacked by a single "savage injun," complete with headband and buckskin outfit; Jesse saves Juanita, which means they are now in love. (Sorry, Hank.)

Maria is excited by Hank's physique, as unlike the "ignorant" and puny locals he is sufficiently strapping enough to handle the brain transplant. There are no racial implications to any of this at all!!!

The mad doctor activates the artificial brain that she will put inside Hank's head (which gives it...a heart beat? I guess the science checks out), puts on her mad doctor helmet, gets the machines where the blue lightning spark goes "bzzzzrt bzzzzrt" as it travels up between two filaments (you know what I'm talking about), and the next thing you know, Hank is reanimated.  He is now christened "Igor," and Maria can command him around.

It all makes sense if you think about it.

Oh, speaking of other things that make sense, Maria is also in love with Jesse James. He spurns her advances (he's loyal to Juanita, whom he has known for fifteen minutes longer), so Maria wants Juanita dead. Hell hath no fury like a Frankenstein scorned!

The only reason any of this matters is because the Marshall eventually shows up, and I can pretend that the Marshall is actually Jock Ewing. So it's Jock Ewing facing off against Dr. Maria Frankenstein, which will color my viewing of every episode of Dallas forevermore. In fact, I think this makes Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter an official prequel to Dallas, which is all any of us could ever want from life.

Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter was...not as bad as I thought it was going to be. And I'm not even saying that because of the surprise Jock Ewing! It's a goofy-yet-solid, delightfully dumb lite horror-oater. Narda Onyx leans into her role as Maria, arching her eyebrows and managing to wear that helmet with a straight face. John Lupton makes for a dull-as-dishwater Jesse James, but it's not entirely his fault. The film portrays James as a Robin Hood-type, making it a point that "he's not the type to hurt women" while stressing the tragic love story between the heading-for-the-gallows outlaw and the headstrong Juanita.

Yeah, it drags in the middle. William Beaudine's direction is very workmanlike, mostly wide shots of folks standing or sitting around talking. This is par for the course for Beaudine, the insanely prolific director who began making Poverty Row pictures in 1915 and ended with drive-in fare like today's movie and Billy the Kid Versus Dracula half a century later. If you wanted a movie made in a week on the cheap, you called "one shot" Beaudine, who shot only what he needed and often edited in-camera. Little fuss, little muss, hundreds of movies and television episodes. But no Dallas! Except, of course, this prequel. Later this week I will be starting a change dot org petition to have the film officially renamed Jock Ewing Meets Frankenstein's Daughter. I hope you'll sign it and forward it to your friends.

some things

Hey guys, are you ready to hear about some things? Some things, yeah! Woo! Get ready, 'cause here are some things:

• I've been doing some writing in other places. I figured it's time to resurrect and once again sporadically update over at my video game blog, Jill Sandwich. If you like games, check it out! If you don't like games, what the heck is your problem, they're great! Also, last week I started a new blog/project thing that I'm super duper wicked excited about: Dallas Reviewed, in which I'll be reviewing every episode of Dallas in chronological order. If you've been reading Final Girl for more than two minutes, then you know how much I loves me some Dallas. It's a ton of fun to write, so check that out if you're so inclined. It updates on Fridays.
• I've been doing some art in other places. Once upon a long ago time, I did some stick figure illustrations of the death scenes of some Friday the 13th movies. Well, I've grabbed a hold of that idea again and I'm rebooting/revamping/rewhatevering it, in color even. I made a new tumblr for it and everything; Friday the 13th: Death Count updates just about every day, so yes...there's another thing to check out if you so desire.

• My webcomic, RPG, has at long last started up again, huzzah! For the foreseeable future, it will update on Mondays.
• Apparently that Michael Bay/Platinum Dunes-produced remake of The Birds is on again. You remember it, don't you? We clutched our collective pearls about it seven years ago. As it never came to be, I assumed that after all my trying, I'd finally wished something away to the cornfield. But noooo! It's back! I've mellowed much on the notion of remakes over the last seven years- if I don't want to see something, I just...you know...don't- but still, I feel the allure of outrage tugging where my heartstrings should be. It's the kind of project that should be put down before a single dime is spent on it. It's one of those, uh, whaddayou call 'em...an abomination! Yeah, that's it. Fart on you, Michael Bay/Platinum Dunes-produced remake of The Birds.
• In Movies That Shouldn't Be Farted On news, I partook in a delicious double feature last night: Hard Candy and Brian De Palma's Passion. The former is a fantastic character piece, all tense and claustrophobic. Has Ellen Page ever been better than as Hard Candy's Hayley? I say to you no, no she has not. It is an uncomfortable delight for sure. 

As for Passion, well, my goodness. It was an indulgent hot mess, I loved every minute of it, and I cannot wait to watch it again.

Hello, this is Murder calling

One of my favorite activities is boring A Young Person to the brink of collapse with a litany of things that used to be better and/or things they've missed out on simply because they weren't around to experience them. Sure, sometimes I'll pause in my droning and think, "Have I become an actual crone yet? Do I really need to lament the loss of Fudgalicious right now? If I do, could I not do so privately? Surely this Young Person would rather skateboard or drink a Four Loco than listen to me talk about The Good Old Days." Then I stop zoning out and realize that the Young Person wandered off because I was no longer talking but simply staring off into space instead.

Their loss though, amirite? Yes! By wandering off, they will miss my blathering about specific topics related to things being better decades ago. Topics including, but not limited to:

1. Fudgalicious gum
2. Freshen Up gum, which I guess is still around but no one buys it because when you think about it, the way it squirted into your mouth was a bit disconcerting, really
3. I don't know why I keep mentioning gum. I don't even chew gum. That's not really a topic for the list, I am just saying.
4. Dallas, Dynasty, Knots Landing, Falcon Crest, Arthur Hailey's Hotel, and why am I not writing a book about 80s nighttime soaps
5. Made-for-TV horror movies
6. Having to wait a year (at least) for theatrically-released movies to come out on video, and then only renting everything because movies were, like, $100
7. Comics were everywhere

NOTE TO SELF- a talking point to add to this list in these future "conversations" (let's be real, it's just me going on and on): telephones, specifically as they used to relate to horror movies.

Look, I am not so old as to not realize that phones are still around. But let's face it...when it comes to horror movies, the tiny portable computer camera phone devices everyone has nowadays are boring. "Oh no, I can't get a signal, we're doomed!" - snooze. "My cell battery is dead!" - oh no, feel the excitement. "A signal transmitted through our mobiles is turning everyone into zombies! Well, maybe not technically zombies, but I guess it depends on your definition of a zombie!" - You know, lots of things turn people into zombies, be they technically zombies or no. Cell phones are just Dullsville, you guys. And as far as I know, they are not readily available in sweet avocado or mustard colors, so again: what is the point of them?

In The Old Days, handsets were usually connected to bases, and bases were always connected to houses. Literally! Connected by wires! If someone knew your phone number, chances were good they knew where you lived. If you answered the phone, you were home. Sure, now folks change cell numbers frequently- but once upon a time, you were tethered to that shit for life. And in case you are a dummy, let me remind you that the "mobile" in "mobile phone" means that you can take your phone with you. How scary would the beginning scenes of Scream been if the killer had called Casey while she were at CVS instead of making Jiffy Pop in her own kitchen?

"Do you like scary movies?"
"What's that? Sorry, I can't hear you."
"I said, 'DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?'"
"Excuse me, can you tell me where the unguents are?"
"Hello?"
"Sorry, I'm at CVS and I need-"
"DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?"
"Who is this? Can you call back? I need to browse the salves aisle."
"WHEN YOU GO HOME I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."
"Well, I guess I won't go home, then."

Answer: not very scary, except maybe for whatever situation she's facing that requires the application of a medicinal balm.

"Send help, I have a rash!"

Just look at the way she's being harassed! It's much tougher to bother someone with weird questions or heavy breathing nowadays with this Caller I.D. business. If I don't recognize a number, I don't answer. If they keep calling, I turn my phone off. If they leave disturbing voice messages, I delete 'em instead of listening to them. Let me tell you, Billy and his "Don't tell what we did, Agnes" business wouldn't have gotten very far with me. This is why my life is not nearly as terrifying as Black Christmas. I love that movie, but I am not complaining.

See? AVOCADO.

As numbers were tethered to phones and phones were tethered to houses, so were people tethered to...phones and houses. If you left your home to escape whatever masked whackadoo trying to whackayou, you had to leave your lifeline behind. No rushing out to hide behind the garage and call for help! Kids today have it so easy. Why, even if you stayed home to call the cops, the kookadook could simply cut the phone line.

And then, of course, phones could also tether you to your death!

Yes, I drew this, so what

There are multiple ways for this: the obvious, as employed my Mr. Myers, above, and then like this, in the POSITIVELY DELIGHTFUL (so delightful I had to yell it) 1982 flick Murder By Phone, which I just watched and which is the reason I am thinking so much about telephones in horror movies:

Man oh man, this movie! Okay, when I say yell "POSITIVELY DELIGHTFUL", I really mean "largely terrible" except for all of the titular murders by phone. Yeah, there's some plot that involves environmental superprofessor Richard Chamberlain and his Mighty Beard trying to solve these murders by phones, but the plot really just gets in the way of the murders. You know, the murders by phones.

AND HERE THEY ARE. Now you don't have to watch 80 minutes, you only have to watch two. Although, be warned: it's so awesome, you may spend 80 minutes watching two minutes 40 times.


The beeping. The shaking. The bleeding from all the head holes. The lightning and thunder indoors. The people getting blasted off their feet and crashing into various things. The venerable John fucking Houseman getting murdered by phone! If there is a Heaven, my friends, it is this two minutes of cinematic history.

Also: see? AVOCADO.

Also also, it should be noted: the second death...that of Mr. Office Man, cements my new-found love of people flying through the air whilst remaining seated in chairs, a love that began with Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice. I want it to be in every movie forever from now on. And maybe retroactively put in every movie that's already been made. What am I saying, "maybe"? Definitely.

Wait, what was I talking about before I got distracted? Oh yeah, telephones in horror movies. Here are some others where phones play a pivotal role- if not in the movie itself, then in my mind, which is the only thing that really matters:

• When a Stranger Calls / When a Stranger Calls Back (I mean, DUH)
• Don't Answer the Phone! (this is also the title of a chapter from my forthcoming book, Hermiting 101)
• A Nightmare on Elm Street 

Yes, I drew this, too SO SUE ME

• The Ring
• 976-EVIL (Satan has a phone number, y'all!)
• Friday the 13th Part 2 (the phone is totally tied to Alice's death for me)

And, of course, One Missed Call, the poster for which only proves how unscary cell phones are.

What the hell is that? Who decided that was a good idea? It makes me feel bad for the film, because man, that poster really puts the film at a disadvantage from the get-go. How could it bounce back from being saddled with that image? It's like...I don't know, being born only a head or something. Maybe that's not 100% impossible to overcome, but it's got to be 99.5% impossible at best. If you were only a head, how would you breathe or turn the pages while you're reading Entertainment Weekly or be alive? It would be super tough. And with a poster like that, how could One Missed Call be good? The answer lies in its infamous 0% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I can't personally testify to its quality, because I've never seen it. Why would I? Life is too short, and it's much better spent watching people fly through the air on office furniture and boring The Young Folk.

And that's why you should avoid oriental crabmeat

The Landlady (1998) has been on my radar for years, ever since I spied it on a shelf at a video store, on sale for $1.99 or some such. But you know how it goes...sometimes $1.99 is simply too much for a movie. Sometimes free is too much for a movie, but that's a topic for another time. The point is, I'd pick up The Landlady and look at it every time I went a-trollin' and a-browsin' at that particular 20/20 Video, but then I'd leave her behind and it seemed that were were simply not destined to be.

But o, fate! Are we not all destiny's child, each and every one of us? Indeed we are, and at long last, the power of Instant Watch has united The Landlady and I. Though I am still reeling from the experience, let me say this: I don't remember what I spent that $1.99 on after leaving The Landlady behind at 20/20 Video- a pen? 0.24875000000000003% of my rent? 1/7 of a pizza?- but whatever it was, it was the better choice. Would that destiny were barren!

What is it that drew my interest to this film in the first place? Come on! Unless this is the first time you're reading Final Girl, you should be able to suss out the reasons by now. Talia Shire? Well, I have nothing against her. A nutso landlady killing tenants? Fine. And, you know, of course it's a nutso landlady and not a landlord. Sure, there have been nutso landlords in cinema...but there's just something about a landlady, ain't there? They're always so gossipy and nosy and they're always running boarding houses. They're evil or they're drunk or they're horny or they're evil and drunk and horny. From 'Salem's Lot to The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane, the cinematic landlady is a stock character I love.

Have you ever had a landlady? Out of all the places I've lived, only one of them came with a lady in charge. She was awful. But worse was the landlord who promised to put new windows in the apartment when I signed the lease. Of course he didn't. The windows didn't lock and I was on the ground floor...and surprise, someone fucking opened one of my windows one night and started to climb in. He was drunk and had the wrong apartment? I guess? I don't know, he split before the cops arrived and I had a nice sleepless night. The next day I told my landlord to fix my GD windows right now, so he came over and screwed them shut.

I'll just let that sit there for a moment.

When I realized what he was doing, I said "What are you doing?", followed by "Why are you doing that?" followed by "What if there's a fire and I have to get out through the window since this apartment only has one door?", and he responded by leaving his screwdriver with me.

That story has nothing to do with anything, but I figured I'd tell you about it because I can't believe I lived there, what the heck.

Anyway, The Landlady. The film begins as Melanie (Shire) catches her husband in flagrante delicto with some floozy. Melanie frets. We can tell a lot about Melanie from this brief opening scene: her plain and dowdy manner of dress imply a conservative, perhaps shy personality. She talks to herself regularly, indicating that she is perhaps mentally ill or mentally challenged.

Melanie heads home to cook dinner for her cheating lout of a husband, but upon seeing cans of "oriental crabmeat" in the cupboard, her mind turns to thoughts of murder. Her husband is highly allergic to shellfish, you see, and so after ingesting mass quantities of oriental crabmeat- carefully disguised as chicken- he dies. Since she has conveniently just inherited an apartment building in Los Angeles from her dead aunt Lydia, Melanie packs up and heads off to smoggier pastures 100% husband-free. She's a landlady now!

landladies be snoopin'

Melanie quickly proves herself to be an uptight prude to her new tenants, chastising them for using God's name in vain, doing sex, and smoking- just as you'd expect in a cinematic landlady. Despite her failed marriage (although is a marriage that ends in murder really a failure? amirite? heyoooo), Melanie still believes in true love and sets her sights on a the nice, bland, socially-conscious Patrick (Jack Coleman)...although Patrick is taken and seems oblivious to Melanie's ardor.

Can you guess where the story is going?

You sure can! People who discover Melanie's husband-killing secret (thanks to newspaper clippings OF COURSE) and must be killed. Patrick's girlfriend must be killed. People who discover that Patrick's girlfriend has been killed must be killed. You just know that eventually it will come down to Melanie confessing her love to Patrick and Patrick will respond with a "What? You're a nutcake!" and Melanie will likely try to kill Patrick but Patrick will kill her instead and her last words will be "I love you".

But first! She kidnaps him, ties him to her bed, and "marries" him. At this point in the proceedings, I almost turned The Landlady off because I was just embarrassed, like TALIA SHIRE YOU WERE IN THE GODFATHER AND ROCKY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

landladies be fake marryin'

That's right friends, make no mistake: The Landlady is terrible. Bad. Not good-bad, just bad. But here's the biggest problem with the film: several times throughout it, I had the sneaking suspicion that it was perhaps supposed to be satire. Some of the dialogue was too off-kilter to be serious: "Ever since Lydia had her colon removed..." There were scenes featuring Melanie cuddling with and talking to the urn full of her dead husband's ashes...but the "humor" was sprinkled sparingly, and the murders, though bland and nearly bloodless, were all played straight. What to think? Sometimes satire simply becomes the thing you are satirizing, you know? It's a fine line, and The Landlady ended up the side marked "misfire"...or, to be more accurate, "pile of crap I wanted to turn off at the 50-minute mark but I slogged through until the end".

And to tell you the 100% truth, I'm glad I did, because in the last minute- the very last!- minute of the film there is a line that is so unexpected and so well delivered that the humor worked and I could not stop laughing. Well, maybe I was punch drunk from the preceding 90 minutes, I don't know...but I rewound it about five times. Am I saying that it's worth sitting through The Landlady to get to that line? No, that is not what I'm saying.

Okay, that is exactly what I'm saying.

No, no it's not. Really. The Landlady is awful and no joke is worth the pain of it.

landladies be shushin' and shootin'

When The Landlady was finally over, Netflix suggested I next watch The Night Caller starring Tracy Nelson of Square Pegs and Mary Crosby of Dallas and Shanna Reed of The Babymaker: The Dr. Cecil Jacobson Story...and with a cast like that you don't say no! I started watching it and I swear, it was essentially the same movie as the one I'd just watched. The same writers, director, and production team. The same lead-actress-as-producer credit. The same dowdy woman kills the source of her ire and starts a new life and quickly becomes obsessed with someone she can't have storyline...is this some cottage industry I didn't know about? Because I want in!

No, I don't. I turned off The Night Caller after about twelve minutes to save myself from the inevitable pain.

Okay, I mostly turned it off because it was like 2:30am and I was tired and YES I know I'll go back to it especially because geez, I hadn't even gotten to the Mary Crosby parts yet. Now pass me the oriental crabmeat!

Film Club: The Initiation of Sarah

As I more than intimated when I announced The Initiation of Sarah as this month's Film Club pick, it's as if the film was made just for me. Seriously, this movie could have been borne from the Stacie Ponder Edition of Mad Libs. Let's fill in the blanks!

In this MADE FOR TV movie from 1978, a shy TELEKINETIC girl exacts revenge on bitches who tease her at a COLLEGE where the most important things in life are SHORTS, THE BRUSHING OF HAIR, and THE RUSHING OF SORORITIES. The film stars KAY LENZ and Morgan FAIRCHILD and Morgan BRITTANY (who was a total JERK on DALLAS and so Stacie was prepared to DISLIKE her immensely, but her character here was actually NICE), which is AMAZING enough...however, there's also ROBERT HAYS of AIRPLANE! (one of Stacie's favorite movies) and TISA FARROW, who is perhaps best known for her turn in LUCIO FULCI'S ZOMBIE, but she's also known for NOT BEING IN ENOUGH HORROR MOVIES ACCORDING TO STACIE. THE INITIATION OF SARAH also features SHELLEY GD WINTERS, who turns in one of her patented over-the-top IS SHE DRUNK? performances.

The best part of the film may very well be the recurring shots of a SCALE MODEL of a HEDGE MAZE that is supposed to be the REAL THING. It never fails to be completely EFFING AWESOME. NEVER. There's a bit of SATANISM thrown in and plenty of the requisite ROBES, DAGGERS of DESPAIR, and CANDLES, but then there's also this unexpected undercurrent of GAY. Seriously. There are enough LONGING glances between the GIRLS throughout the entire movie that it can totally be read as some sort of journey to SEXUAL AWAKENING if you're all, like, into SYMBOLISM AND SHIT. It's gay enough to be the lezzie version of A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2: FREDDY'S REVENGE. Sure, it's a bit of a rip-off of CARRIE (just substitute MUD and EGGS for PIG'S BLOOD) and in the end there's not much CARNAGE (though the end is still a total downer- it's DEPRESSING in the way all these TELEKINETIC REVENGE movies are), but there's no denying that SARAH and company were initiated straight into my HEART.

Film Club Coolies, yo!
------------------------------
Made for TV Mayhem
Kindertrauma
Betty Bloodletter
Film Shuffle
From Midnight, With Love
strange spanners
I Will Devour Your Content
Maynard Morrisey's Horror Movie Diary
Creature Cast
Cinema Gonzo

Day 18: "Nothing is forgotten."

At times, I'm pretty easy to please. Throw the words "TV movie", "1977", and "Lee Grant" into the same sentence and I know I'm gonna be in for a good time. I'll admit, though, I have no idea why the prospect of seeing Lee Grant makes me happy- she's always so damn cranky in every movie, but not in an Adrienne Barbeau delicious sort of way. Grant is just plain scowly and never particularly likable...maybe I like that? I don't know. Maybe she's the female J.R. Ewing for me- I love to hate her. It's very complicated, as you can tell.

Anyway, all those keywords I dig come together to bring me- and the world- The Spell, the tale of an "obese" teenager who strikes back at her tormentors with the mysterious powers of her mind.

Hey, maybe that's it! Maybe Lee Grant has mysterious mind powers, and compels me to watch her films.

The Spell opens during gym class, wear all the leotard-clad girls are picking on the oversized sweatsuit-clad Rita for being a "tubbo" (let's ignore the fact that Rita actually isn't particularly fat, shall we?). The teacher pairs up the girls for a little rope-climbing competition, and while Rita fails miserably at the task, her bitter arch-enemy Jackie has clearly enrolled in Advanced Cirque Du Soleil Theory...or, she moonlights at The Doll House or some such.

While Jackie spins and flips defies gravity and thinks she's so big, the camera repeatedly zooms in on Rita's face to the tune of several musical stings. When Jackie falls to the floor and lands in a broken heap, we can only infer that Rita has eerie mental powers.

Home life is just as much a drag for Rita as is school life. Her father also picks on her for being fat, perhaps as a way to overcome his insecurities regarding his obvious hair loss...or, perhaps, he's simply a dick. Mom Marilyn doesn't pick on Rita per se, but she's not very nice, either; then again, she's played by Lee Grant, so what do you expect? It's difficult to tell when she's not supposed to be a cooch. Rita's younger sister Chris (a little baby Helen Hunt) is pretty and popular though dim, but since looks are all that matter to this family she's the favored daughter. Sorry, Rita, it's tough being 15.

The fact that Rita is hounded by her father for being grossly overweight when she's not raises a question that pops up in my brain place, especially when friends of mine are expecting: what if you just...don't like your kid? What if you do your best to raise them right, and then they turn out to be racist, or homophobes, or Paul Reiser fans, or they hate everything you like, or they're just plain jerks? Even worse, Rita isn't really any of those things- she simply doesn't fit in with her family. Granted, her dad is a total a-hole - when his wife suggests they send their daughter to a shrink, he responds with "Or a firing squad!" - but still. You can't like everybody, and what if you don't like somebody you're supposed to? It's a depressing thought, and The Spell is probably the most depressing Carrie rip-off in existence.

Rita, meanwhile, starts to become a little more jerky by the day as she gets a little more witchy by the night, sneaking out at all hours in her finest capery to hone her telekinetic skills with the help of her mentor.

When Rita's face flashes on screen, you know that one of her tormentors is about to be on the receiving end of something or other. This is the case when Marilyn goes to visit a friend who silently chokes and spontaneously combusts as Marilyn looks on, more appalled than frightened (again, this is Lee Grant, folks).




This sequence is without a doubt the money shot of the film.

At home, however, Rita smiles serenely as she embroiders her "Hang in there, kitty!" wall decoration and remains preternaturally calm in the face of hideous nightwear.


The hijinks escalate as Chris almost drowns at a swim meet and dad is almost flattened by a car...and although Rita's not present during either incident, Marilyn begins to suspect that something's hinky with her eldest. Soon it's time for a showcase kitchen showdown for the ages!

Okay, so "for the ages" might be a bit of an exaggeration.

Okay, so "a bit of an exaggeration" might be a bit of an understatement. This is a made-for-TV effort that's fairly tame even for its time period. Again, I can be easy to please, and this bargain basement Carrie pleased me. It's little more than a pleasant 70-minute diversion, and what's wrong with that? Dammit...it must be Lee Grant and her witchy ways compelling me again. But how was I to know? It's not like she was wearing a cape!

For a limited time, you can watch The Spell on Hulu and judge for yourself if you're so inclined.

Day 3: "Death is not the end to life."

Audrey Rose (1977) is a film that's long been in my brain. From the undeniably creepy poster art to that time in art school when I was talking horror movies with a classmate and she told me she that the most terrifying film she'd ever seen like, ever, was Audrey Rose...well, it was always a film I had to see. My art school days, however, were the days before The Internet (yes, there was a time before The Internet) and DVDs; this little movie was difficult to find and so I relegated it to "I'll get around to it" status and that was that. After I began Final Girl in earnest and started really diving into the world of horror movies, reading about them and researching them and really just enveloping myself in them, I never forgot about Audrey Rose. It was still a fairly rare film, despite the advent of DVD, and I found it odd that no one seemed to talk about it much, given that that one girl that one time assured me it was pee-your-pants terrifying. So it was glee- glee, I tells ya- that I was feeling when I found a megacheap VHS copy recently. What's the verdict after all these years of searching and waiting?

Umm, if Art School Girl found Audrey Rose to be the most horrifying film in the history of ever, then her head would surely explode within 10 seconds of watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. That's not to say it's a bad movie, but to my great disappointment, this isn't some lost classic unknown sleeper gem that everyone should see right this very second. If anything, it's more drama than horror- which is fine and all, but it's not what I was expecting...and everything should be exactly as I expect forever and ever!


Audrey Rose begins with a fiery car crash on a rain-slicked road in Pennsylvania, then quickly jumps to Manhattan eleven years later. A man in full-on weirdo beard mode (Anthony Hopkins) engages in some lite stalking of the Templeton family: he follows dad Bill (John Beck) to work, he waits outside the school where mom Janice (Marsha Mason) picks up daughter Ivy (Susan Swift)...he never engages the family, but he's always lurking in corners.

Weirdo Beardo isn't the only problem facing this happy little family, however: as Ivy's birthday approaches, she becomes increasingly plagued with nightmares she cannot remember upon waking.

Eventually Weirdo Beardo contacts the Templetons and explains why he's been passively harassing them: his name is Elliot Hoover, and eleven years prior he lost his wife and daughter Audrey Rose in that fiery car accident. After years of talking with psychics and delving into Indian mysticism, Hoover became convinced that his daughter was reincarnated; what's more, he believes that Audrey Rose's soul resides within Ivy, who was born two minutes after Audrey Rose died. Ivy's nightmares are the result of her soul wrestling with its dual nature. Bill and Janice are skeptical, but when Hoover calms Ivy's sleep-yelling by calling her "Audrey Rose", Janice begins to have her doubts.

Then begins a cycle:

- Ivy has a nightmare
- Bill is either absent (working late) or simply can't calm the girl down
- Hoover is present and can calm the girl
- Bill and Janice argue over what's happening and what should be done about it

...repeat, repeat. Oddly enough, Audrey Rose becomes a courtroom drama towards the end, wherein the possibilities of reincarnation are discussed- what rights does Hoover have if Ivy has a piece of Audrey Rose's soul lurking within her? There's a bit of science vs religion that ultimately results in an ending that's supposed to be uplifting, I suppose, but really isn't.


Don't get me wrong- Audrey Rose isn't a terrible film. It raises plenty of questions (though it falls squarely on the pro-reincarnation side of things) and provides lots of food for thought. The entire affair is helmed by the venerable Robert Wise (The Haunting), so to call it competent filmmaking is a bit of an understatement. It's bolstered by some fine performances, particularly from Marsha Mason (this is really her film, after all) and Susan Swift, who's largely given the thankless task of screaming and whining ad nauseum. Anthony Hopkins is serviceable, though he manages to be simultaneously dead-eyed and twitchy as a man fighting to save his dead daughter's soul. I even managed to overcome my deep and abiding loathing of John Beck, who appeared on Dallas as Mark Graison, a guy who I suppose was nice enough but totally came between Pam and Bobby solely due to creepy, wealthy persistence.

No, the problem with Audrey Rose is that it's been miscategorized for decades, largely in my head. The Exorcism of Emily Rose comes to mind as a descendant, though that film is far more flashy and horrifying than its predecessor. In short, it's worth a watch on a rainy Sunday afternoon, perhaps, but take it from me: don't let it haunt your brain!

talk amongst yourselves!

I don't know what my problem is lately, but I've been having difficulty making up my mind about...everything. Maybe it's the onset of summer's scorching heat, which leaves one feeling as if one resides within a tramp's tube sock. Maybe it's my brain shutting down to reserve energy in anticipation of the coming weeks, which will be busy busy biz-ZAY. Whatever the cause, it's resulted in my spending a lot more time than usual staring off into space. It all goes something like this:

1. I look at my movies, trying to figure out what to watch
2. I can't decide between A, B, C and so on through ZZZ
3. Thinking becomes too much work
4. Brain go MEHHHH
5. Sit down
6. Stare off into space trying to try to decide to decide

Blah blah blah. I did manage to make it to a press screening of Orphan, however, and I really dug it...so, you know, whatevs. Go see it! It's fun with a capital no really it was. Speaking of orphans, I did manage to recently watch Safe Harbor starring Tracey Gold, wherein she portrays a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective tracking a serial killer who targets former residents of a children's home. I hate to say it, but not even the idea of Tracey Gold as a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective could save that stinker. I knew who the killer was the first time the killer appeared onscreen, and it was all a bit rote. Sigh. 'Twas a disappointment, but such is life.

Anyishouldwatchfaceofeviltomakeupforthatsafeharborshit, I'm only telling you all this because I'm sitting here trying to decide when to depart for San Diego Comic Con. I can't make up my mind, although I need to rather soon since...you know, the con has already started. I may leave late tonight...or tomorrow...or tomorrow night...or..................brain go MEHHHH.

But! I know for a fact that no matter when I leave, I'm 99.9999992% positive that I won't be posting any more until I return next week. I hope to catch the screening of Trick R Treat while I'm there, so I'll come back and tell you allllllll about it. I have no idea what else I'll be doing at the con- that's just way too much planning in advance and THINKING for me right now.

I know you'll miss me so effing much you'll hardly be able to stand it (and I you, kids...and I you), but fret not, pretties! Here are some Dallas paper dolls you can print out and play with while I'm gone. They'll keep you company as only paper drawings of Dallas cast members can.

Savvy readers (ie all of you) will SURELY note that Sue Ellen's black and white dress is the number she was wearing the night she was arrested for shooting JR. I mean, a-DOY.

Savvy readers will also note that under all his tough talk and shady business practices, that JR is a true patriot.

so i made a movie, part six

I'm, like, totally in "post-production" on Ludlow. Since I went way overboard with the info sharing regarding the shoot, I figured, you know, why not indulge myself and share way too much info during the entire process of putting this movie together? It's what The Internet is for. Well, it's for sharing too much information and it's for LOLcats.

So, WARNING: this is all about me and my big ideas for Ludlow and seriously, it’s so boring, I’m falling asleep whilst typing ittttttttttwiooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Oh, if you have no idea what the fuck a "Ludlow" is, click here and catch up. Or don't and remain clueless. Whatever, man, that's totes your beeswax.

During filming, Shannon Lark looked far into the future and yawned upon reading this boring post.

If you’ve watched any of my previous…uh, let’s call them “films” for lack of a better term, shall we?…then you may or may not be surprised to find out that they’re all edited on l’il ol’ iMovie5. See, I’m always about 6 or 8 steps behind the curve when it comes to computers due to the fact that I’m not a millionaire. It’s true! Though I exude exquisite class and glamour all over The Internet, I am little more than a humble pauper.

Another example of exquisite class and glamour.

As such, I plod along all humble pauper-style working with programs from 5 years ago and everything’s generally cool; I’m a big proponent of the idea that your equipment doesn’t entirely matter, but rather it’s all about what you can do with it. *sexual innuendo, wakka wakka* The point is, geez… the first three episodes of Ghostella’s Haunted Tomb were shot on VHS, and they’re…largely coherent, at least.

SHANNON LARK: Stacie never gives herself enough credit. "Lack of a better term?" Her movies are wonderful! And they actually make sense. Especially her latest with that wedding dress-thing.

In related news, did you know that NOBODY uses VHS anymore? Weird, right? I just don’t understand this modern world! VHS is so cool. Why I remember the day I stepped up to VHS from using this thing. Oh, what a day that was. Electric Youth!

I’ll readily admit that top of the line equipment would be swell to own- after all, there’s no arguing that stuff shot on the Red One (fancy, expensive) looks better than stuff shot on VHS (not fancy, obsolete). But again, I’m not a millionaire and thus I make do. Sometimes, though, you just gotta bite the bullet and upgrade your crap to crap plus.

Sorry, VHS. I mean, you don't look THAT bad and I still love you and all...

Sometimes, upgrading is all about ease. After those first three episodes of Ghostella, I dumped my VHS camera for a cheap (but kick ASS) mini-DV camera. In addition to superior picture quality, this meant I could simply import footage directly from the camera into iMovie rather than burning a DVD from the VHS tapes, extracting the footage from the DVDs, converting the file types, and THEN importing to iMovie. I still make out with my little camera every night as my perverted way of thanking it for saving me so much time and hassle. The making out is also my way of letting it know that I think it’s pretty.

...but this is a little sharper...and widescreenier...and insanier.

SHANNON LARK: I agree that you should make out with your equipment. It makes it function better (as long as no saliva hits the mother board) as the good vibes permeate its mechanical consciousness.

I’m trying to make a…well, a GOOD MOVIE here with Ludlow. Relatively speaking, natch. I want it to look beautiful, and I want as much as possible to avoid the deadliest of pitfalls that frequently lay waste to no-budget movies: shitty audio. Whether or not I’ll achieve these goals remains to be seen, but to give myself a leg up I used Shannon’s fancy-pants camera to shoot the film (although not wanting to neglect my own beloved camera, I brought it with me to capture behind the scenes shenanigans and, you know, to make out with). The second part of this mathemagical equation involves post-production and my decision to…dun dun dunnnnn…upgrade from iMovie 5 to Final Cut Express 4. This is roughly the equivalent of upgrading from sitting on your ass all day to going all nutcake and doing the Ironman Triathlon in under an hour.

I don’t know if that makes any sense, or whether doing the Triathlon in under an hour would indeed indicate a level of nutcakedness, but perhaps you get the point.

What? No, I’ve never done the Ironman Triathlon. BIG DEAL. It’s not like I’ve never done ANYTHING. I mean, this one time I stayed up for two days straight and lemme tell ya, it broke my fucking brain! It was during a road trip with my friend Jim, and the highlight of the trip was probably the moment when my mind completely melted and I couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant where we’d had breakfast. The restaurant was called Country Pride (gross, awesome), but the closest I could get to calling it that was to blurt out “Purity Face”.

SHANNON LARK: Hahaha! I went to a place like that recently. It had a giant pig in front of it, which I rode.

"Purity Face" is clearly not even close.

Anyway.

Look, I’m not trying to knock iMovie Version From 5 Years Ago, believe me. I’ve done some cool stuff with it, if I do say so myself (and clearly I do say so myself). However, the program is largely aimed at people who want to make a “movie” of their kids pooping at the beach and Ken Burns-style photo montages set to the tune of Jim Croce’s “Time In A Bottle” to give as a gift to Nana and Pap Pap for their 60th wedding anniversary- and that’s…you know, mega-cool. But for Ludlow, I want more control than iMovie can provide; I want to filter audio and correct colors and all that deluxe good-time jazz. Lo, I say unto thee, this is a story about control. Control of what I say, control of what I do- and this time, I’m gonna do it MY way. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Are we ready? I am- ‘cause it’s all about control…and I’ve got lots of it.

NnnngaaaahhhhhJANET JACKSON GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

"I will fuck up your dreams!"

Sorry, wait…mmm. Err, where the fuck am I going with this?

Oh yeah- so I upgraded my computer and now my stupid big fat scanner is no longer compatible with my system (it sits, useless and mocking) which means I can no longer scan in…you know…STUFF FOR MY LIFE which includes COMICS and I’ve got Final Cut Express but it’s super complicated and I don’t know what I’m doing and I hate not knowing what I’m doing and I feel my self-imposed deadline looming and I’m totally freaking out.

SHANNON LARK: Girl, you are gonna get the freakin' stupid editing system BLAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Just keep working at it. You are super smart and you do things and you have the BESTEST blog on the intarweb where people send you fanmail and some of them even try to look up pictures of me naked just because you have let me go blablabla on your blog about masturbation and Ludlow. This is just Ludlow trying to bring you down, man. Fuck Ludlow. Fuck it with an iron fist and conquer this program till you hit yourself in the face cause your fist goes right through it, all transparency-like.

SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP did I really write all this just to bitch about how my new editing program is OH SO HARD and WAH WAH WAHH and IT’S GOING TO TAKE ME SO LONG TO LEARRRRRRRRNNNN? Hmm. I guess I did.

Well, I SAID it was boring…and YOU read it anyway! SUCKER!

Sorry, that’s not very nice at all. I’m going to go make an iMovie video featuring a Ken Burns-style montage of all our favorite Final Girl pictures from over the years, and I’ll set it to the tune of Icy Spicy Leoncie’s “Man! Let’s Have Fun” as my way of apologizing.

Actually, that video sounds pretty cool. Wow, I should be a jerk more often!

And please don’t remind me that I’m bitching about editing movies on my computer while the world is riddled with people who have no homes or clothes or perhaps not even eyes, because I feel guilty enough about my meager entitlements already. I BID YOU GOOD DAY.