FEAR NO EVIL (1981)

...or, Satan is a Homo.

I've been jonesin' to see this one forever, thanks to fond memories of its yearbook exploded to heck box art and the fact that it hails from horror's finest year. Seriously, those two points were enough to sell me–I had no idea what the film was about (possession, maybe?) until I fired it up last night. That's right, I didn't even read the back of the box! As you know we (me) at Final Girl live life on the edge, always but especially during SHOCKtober, and what is more daring, on the edge, and, if I may say so, thrill-seeking than watching a movie that you don't know shit about? Nothing! Except maybe doing that whilst eating a hot pepper. I did not eat a hot pepper whilst watching it, but my adrenaline was pumping as if I did!

I tells ya, SHOCKtober is a time of thrills and enlightenment. Here it is, but Day 1, and already I have solved The Ancient Riddle of What is Fear No Evil About. Sorry, I know, that sounds like the worst, most disappointing Nancy Drew book of all time, a one-paragraph book where she just...reads the copy on the back of the Fear No Evil Blu-ray and solves the mystery, the end. Also I realize this whole entry so far is the worst, most disappointing movie intro to a movie review of all time, but that's par for the course around here so you only have yourself to blame for reading it.

ANYWAY. You know how it goes: a baby is born, he's a baby of means. Then along come two, they got nothin' but their jeans. No wait! That's the Diff'rent Strokes theme song. What I meant to say is that a baby is born, he's the Antichrist! Lucifer has been reborn, you see, in wee little Andrew Williams (Stefan Arngrim), and somewhere out there the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, also reborn, are waiting for Lucifer to show his dumb Lucifer face so they can kill him good. It's a cycle, you see, an eternal holy battle of good and evil and all that.

18 years later, Andrew is a weird, smart, shy, creepy, gangly high schooler who seems largely unaware of his true nature and/or powers, although his parents are absolutely terrified of him. Mostly Andrew spends his days glaring at his unruly classmates–and when I say they're unruly...boy, do I mean it.

Everyone in this school is 45 years old, horny, surly, and dumb. It's great! There's a girl gang–The Queen B's–replete with satin jackets à la One Dark Night. There are ne'er-do-wells who decide to bully Andrew in the locker room shower by...kissing him? Uh, sure, that's a thing, I guess.

Listen, there's a lot of gay in this movie, and I'm still trying to figure out what it all means and what it's trying to say. (See photo exhibit #1, of a very fabulous Andrew-Gone-Lucifer up at the top of this post.) Andrew is very obviously gay. There is copious fella nudity here, basements both front and rear (so many butts). The ne'er-do-well, Tony (Daniel Eden) is a real misogynist tough guy who smacks his girlfriends around, fucks her with a gun barrel (!! this movie!), and as I noted, kisses the kid he's bullying. Late in the film, when Andrew fully comes into his Satantastic powers (and dons lipstick, natch), he summons some oatmeal-faced zombies to rise out of the dirt, and they mostly shuffle around and hassle all the hetero couples that are scattered around. Andrew also...uh...gives Tony a pair of breasts (!! this movie!), which causes Tony to promptly kill himself. The Archangels Michael and Gabriel, in this cycle, are women.

Is Fear No Evil homophobic, making the evil Lucifer a homosexual? After all, the gay devil is killed by holy light beams at the end. Good wins the day. Or is the message the opposite of that, showing that religion is oppressive and repressive, snuffing out Lucifer's effeminate, flamboyant gayness? I suppose that's up to you to decide. I've decided it's the latter. Religion ruins everything, of course those drab Archangels wanted to squash Andrew's self-actualization. They're so boring.

Unfortunately, so is this movie! It's definitely a worthy curiosity to add to the queer horror canon, but aye yi yi it's mostly a slog and a mess. It's all over the place tonally, and there are serious pacing issues as it cuts between Andrew's journey and that of the Archangels. There's a disjointed feel to it, like writer/director Frank LaLoggia was trying to cram too much in; plot threads are underdeveloped and there's no build to the overarching story. The hints of The Omen, Carrie, and Rosemary's Baby throughout make you wish Fear No Evil went as nutso as any one of those. Still, for the budget there are some nice effects (I do so love an oatmeal-faced zombie), gothic-lite touches, and the soundtrack–which includes The B-52s, The Ramones, Sex Pistols, Patti Smith, and much much more–fuckin' rules. If only those Archangels and filmmakers alike would have let Andrew be his fabulous self!

Sisterhood of the Traveling Christian Fashion Nightie

The 11th (eleventh!) episode of my podcast Gaylords of Darkness is now a-LIVE and a-VAILABLE. In "Sisterhood of the Traveling Christian Fashion Nightie," my co-host Anthony and I discuss, fawn over, and fall for the terrific telekinetic trio: Carrie (1976), Jennifer (1978), and Thelma (2017).

I don't know if the episode is any good--well, scratch that. I think it's good, but who cares what I think? What I mean is, I don't know if there are any, you know, trenchant insights or whattheheckever. There might be. But I am kind of in a fugue state while we record, and then I come out of it and I don't know what happened. Look, if you've listened to Gaylords, then you know what to expect, I guess. I'm not trying to neg myself here! But what I do know is that my (our) passion for the subjects overfloweth and it's perhaps the one episode I was most amped for, and the one I had the most fun researching.

Side note: yowza, we watch a shitton of stuff for this show. Sometimes that's great, and one of us is introduced to a gem. (Hi, I now love the Child's Play series more than I ever could have anticipated I would.) Other times, we have to sit through Mother of Tears. (Or another movie that we'll be talking about later this month, one I am not looking forward to watching for the second time, one I can't even believe I'll be watching for the second time.)

Oh man, I actually forgot that I endured The Haunting (1999) again for a previous episode! Seems my brain is starting a purge (not to be confused with The Purge). Until it purges something vital (like my feelings about Suspiria (2018) or how to put on pants or whatever) I suppose I should be thankful.

Anyway. The point of this is this: yes, new episodes of Gaylords of Darkness magically appear on The Internet every Wednesday when the clock strikes 6:66. No, I haven't been very good at reminding you about that! Nor have I been very good about anything else here, and here sure is gathering dust. So I thought, rather than simply posting "new episode, here's a link" every week, why don't I write...something? A supplement piece, you know? Because even though talking for the show is way, way (way) easier than writing (who knew??), well, I'm not ready to purge that ability quite yet. So, two tastes, tasting...something together.

Carrie, Jennifer, and Thelma are three women who wield unearthly powers so strong that not only can they kill you with a mere thought, they have whole movies named after them. Each character (and her respective film) stands on her own in a multitude of ways, but considering them as a triad is the way to go, baby, as it reveals a beautiful evolution of empowerment.

Everyone, of course, knows Carrie White. She eats shit, she burns in Hell, everyone is going to laugh at her, et cetera et cetera. Heck, if you want to know just how famous she is, you only need to check out the archives here: she won the first (and only) (so far) Maniac Madness tournament in 2014, beating out horror luminaries like Michael Myers and the Possessed Floorlamp from Amityville 4: The Evil Escapes. Here's what I wrote when she was crowned winner:

You know, I take Carrie for granted a lot of the time because it's become this thing bigger than the movie itself. Does that make sense? I mean I reference it all the time (see "get out your dirtypillows and clap 'em together in celebration"), telling my friends "they're all going to laugh at you" or talking about dumping pig's blood or whatever. I've suggested so many times that someone plug it up, you feel me? It's so easy to forget what a brilliant film it is, or how intense and perfect the iconic prom scene is. And Sissy Spacek, man. Her Carrie is the most terrifying person you just want to hug.

It's all true. Carrie is still one of the greatest horror films of all time, perhaps the best of the many, many Stephen King adaptations out there. Brian De Palma's vision is simply fucking brilliant, a masterclass in creating tension through pacing, editing, and direction. The entire prom and the build-up to the tipping of the bucket is brutal, even if you know it's coming and precisely when. The slow-motion...Sue Snell putting it all together, trying to save the day, and being thwarted by the well-intentioned Miss Collins...Chris Hargensen crouched under the stairs, licking her lips in anticipation...and Carrie, poor Carrie, resplendent in her homemade gown, crown on her head, beaming beneath the sparkly cardboard stars. Her moment--finally, her moment!--seems as if it will last forever.

But it doesn't. (I know it doesn't, we all know it doesn't, but I never stop hoping that it will.) The blood pours down, the pointing and laughing begin, and so does Carrie's revenge.

It should be cathartic for us, watching the outcast, picked-upon, downtrodden, telekinetic underdog stop her tormentors for good.  That's why we watch Death Wish, or Mandy, or I Spit on Your Grave, or any other revenge flick. The good guy suffers, and the bad guys eventually get theirs. If good guys must suffer, this is how we want it to go. So when Carrie turns her impossibly wide-eyed, somehow vacant power gaze on her bullies and the sparks start to fly--literally--we get ready for the sweet, sweet comeuppances. And we get them, but we also get a lot we didn't ask for.

Carrie's rage is indiscriminate. Either she can't control her powers once they're fully unleashed, or she simply no longer gives a fuck. She imagines slights and mockery where there is only kindness, as is the case with Miss Collins, the one person who tries to help Carrie simply to help Carrie with no personal gain, the one who pays a brutal price simply for being present. No one is spared from Carrie's wrath, and what should be a liberating triumph becomes a devastating tragedy.

It's compounded when Carrie returns to her mother, who is also a tormentor...but a tormentor she knows. Carrie begs for comfort, but Margaret White is incapable of providing. You know how it ends. Again, I always hope it'll end some other way, that Carrie will be able to salvage some kind of a life, find her place, and make her way in the world. But no, she dies a pathetic death in the Jesus Closet, clinging to the body of the mother who tried to murder her only moments earlier.

It's just...it's so damn depressing.

While Sissy Spacek and Nancy Allen are GD perfect and Carrie is a sight to behold, it's not a film I turn to time and time again because it's too sad for my frail ol' heart. Perhaps I'll take a cue from my co-host Anthony, who largely enjoys the camp maelstrom that is Piper Laurie as Margaret White. She really is too much, isn't she? Practically rending her garments as she growls about her husband's whiskey breath that one time she enjoyed sex, going on about dirtypillows, gobbling reminding Carrie that they're all gonna laugh at her.

I don't know. I love the film. But at this point I'm incapable of looking at it solely as a camp piece, and I'm less in the mood for "sad girl with powers dies" than I am in the mood for "sad girl with powers isn't so sad, really, and claims her powers and lives her best fucking life." And so my impossibly wide-eyed, somehow vacant power gaze turns to Jennifer and even moreso to Thelma.

The first time I saw Jennifer was...sheesh, like a decade ago (how fucking old is this place/this me?) when I reviewed it for this here blog. I'm ashamed to say I wasn't super enamored at the time! I only saw the similarities to Carrie, which was released just two years earlier. Girl whose name is the movie title has a religious parent, she's picked on, she wields powers, the mean girl dies in a fiery car crash.

Sure, Jennifer is a Carrie riff. It's an American International Pictures picture, after all. But watching it in preparation for Gaylords of Darkness...well, it was like seeing it for the first time all over again, but, you know, with different eyes. Or a different brain. Maybe it's because my relationship with movies (particularly horror movies) and writing about them is so different now. Maybe it's because I watched it within 24 hours of watching Carrie. Maybe I was a dum-dum back then, and I'm marginally less of one now. Who knows? But the result is one that DOCTORS DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW.

But I'll tell you the result anyway: man, I loved it this time around. It wasn't the similarities to Carrie that really grabbed my attention, but rather the stark differences. (Besides, they're more interesting to talk about.)

Side note: it's good, isn't it, to reassess things every once in a while? Sometimes it can be a letdown: that movie you loved no longer seems so great. Sometimes you find something new in a bad movie and it redeems itself. Sometimes it's The Haunting '99 and it's forever beyond redemption. Sometimes time and experience and whatever other alchemy makes up your life makes you see differently and appreciate what you may have overlooked. Makes me feel like I should watch everything I've reviewed here again! Except The Haunting '99. Three times is a fucking crowd and I am done with it forever.

The largest divide between the two titular high schoolers is agency. Carrie has brief flashes of independence, most notably when she tells her mother to sit DOWN, cuz like it or not she's going to the dang prom. Outside of this, Carrie is little more than a victim throughout her film: bullied by her peers, abused by her mother, and sabotaged by herself. She is pathetic--not that that makes me love her any less, mind you. But that's what Chris Hargensen and Co zero in on: Carrie's meek nature. They sense her weakness, they despise her for it, and Carrie never stands up to them. She only scurries away, whether it's from Chris's insults or Tommy Ross's prom invitation. She never comes into her own, and she certainly never takes control of her powers; at the end of the film her powers are completely beyond her and bring about the literal downfall of the White home.

Jennifer, on the other hand, refuses to play victim, even though her bullies--well, "bullies" is too light a word for these sociopaths, actually--try to murder her on several occasions, take (and post) nude photos of her, make fun of her, try to get her kicked out of school, kill her favorite kitten, and then frame her for its murder. It's only that last one--the kitten murder--that really gets a rise out of our heroine. Everything else, she just deals with. She speaks up for herself and stands up to them all without hesitation, sure, but once the kitten-killin' line is crossed, Jennifer busts out her snake powers and gets her revenge.

But her revenge is not an indiscriminate, wild one. Sure, it's wild in that she summons snakes during an extended disco-lit sequence. But she stays in full control of her powers, she doesn't kill everyone who crossed her, and no innocents are caught in the serpent-laden crossfire. At the end of the film, she isn't burning in Hell far below the rubble of her destroyed house, no sir. At the end of Jennifer, Jennifer is footloose and fancy-free, tossing scarves with her new sidekick (not a euphemism) (maybe), doing her thing, and living her best life, the life Carrie was denied (and denied herself). It's a GD power fantasy, and I am here for it.

The film also as a few things to say--intentionally or otherwise--about class and social issues. Jennifer is the "hayseed" scholarship student at the posh private school, trying to co-exist with superwealthy supersnobs. She battles with the daughters of politicians and a headmistress who values reputation and money above the welfare of her students. Her allies in this are other outcasts: the black women who work in the dormitory kitchens alongside her, and the "dykes" who welcome her to the swim team. The minorities know what's up, they're on Jennifer's side, and no harm comes to them. In fact, Jennifer cleans house and makes it better for all of them. She's a hero, and she doesn't have to stand alone.

This is a huge step up from Carrie, surprising in its message (particularly as an AIP joint) and the agency it allows its title character to have. In short, Jennifer is a treasure. A treasure! I was oh so wrong all those years ago, and it serves as further proof to what we've all suspected from the start: you should never trust my opinions! Except for the opinions in this piece, which are impeccable. Don't listen to old me, listen to now me: Jennifer is pretty effing great.

If we set aside the Carrie...uh, expanded universe?...of remakes and sequels and Broadway musicals, the "telekinetic queen has a movie named for her" lay fallow for decades until Thelma, the 2017 Norwegian stunner. "Decades" is a long time to be sure, but good lawd was Thelma worth the wait.

Thelma is a country girl starting a new life at a college in the city. Well, starting a new life as best she can while remaining tight--like, multiple daily phone calls tight--with her Christian parents. It's not long before she contracts a big ol' case of The Gays, as she's immediately smitten with female classmate Anja. Thelma suffers terrible, frightening seizures at the mere thought or sight of Anja, but the seizures belie something besides repression and fear of sin: Thelma's got mind powers, baby, and she doesn't know she has them.

Religious parents, mind powers, the suffering of a public indignity...yeah, Thelma's right in line with Carrie and Jennifer. But while there are nods and homages and light similarities to the other films in this tiny, lovely subgenre, Thelma is also the endgame of progression in the same. Ultimately it's the story of a young woman who fully embraces who she is and her place in the world. Thelma claims her stake (and her girl) and frees herself from repression, oppression, and all notions of internalized sin. She accepts her powers, loves who she loves, and is who she is. It's a beautiful horror-flavored coming of age story, one that's still remarkable in this day and age for centering on a lesbian who doesn't die, who doesn't commit suicide, who doesn't ultimately find herself redeemed or saved by the love of a decent man.

It's also straight-up genre masterpiece if you ask me, which you sort of did by, you know, reading this. It's a gorgeous film that absolutely rewards repeat viewings: every single scene feels so deliberate, laden with symbols and metaphors and layers and more layers to unpack and unravel.

It's not a flashbang riot--you're not going to get a Carrie flips out at the prom setpiece in Thelma. It's a quiet, thoughtful film that's also incredibly tense. First viewing, you won't know what to expect or where it's going in such a way that you'll suddenly realize just how nervous you are. Then let it settle in your bones and watch it again, looking for clues and angles and colors and try to unravel its secrets. What's this shot mean? What's this motif? It's a gift of a film and it just keeps giving.

Eili Harboe is a revelation as Thelma. It's a physically and emotionally demanding role, and she is an actor who conveys so very much without showiness, with a mere tilt of her head or a single look. It's the kind of performance I love; I revere actors who somehow pierce through and hit a nerve with you, who communicate a truth that removes the barrier between "audience" and "cinema." You know what I mean? It's rare. It's nice when it happens. It reminds me why I love movies. Thelma fucking transcends, you dig? 

Hmm, I kind of like doing this sort of supplemental piece to the podcast, because nearly every week I find myself going "Oh, I wanted to mention this!" or "I shoulda said that!" or "What the heck was I thinking when I said that" after we've recorded. There's often more I want to say, so I guess this is the best place to say it. After all, if you've listened to Gaylords then you know that it's the place for bad amazing Debra Hill impressions and railing against Halloween H40 in between the glimmers of serious discussion. Here at Final Girl and I can still do all that, but now you're forced to read it with your eyes! Think of them as companion pieces, separate experiences that don't need each other but enhance the flavor of one another. GASP just like Carrie and Jennifer and Thelma.

Also, hey: we take listener questions! And we answer them! On the show! Got a question for us about any ol' horror-related nonsense? You can leave it here in the comments, if it pleases you. Or post it on our Facebook page. Whatever, man. I'm too blissed out on these telekinetic queens to worry about it.

The Nightmare-ening Day 2: FREDDY'S REVENGE (1985)

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge is a fascinating film. I mean, a sequel to the wildly successful first Nightmare was no doubt a given. But who could ever have predicted that...this would be the direction they'd take the series in the second film? In other series, the crazy ideas are held onto for a bit: Halloween III, for example, or Jason Goes to Hell. One would expect that Nightmare 2 would feature, you know, something rote, just more nightmares and more dead teens. We get nightmares and dead teens, sure, but Freddy's Revenge takes the entire rule set established by its predecessor and tosses it in the furnace. So brash!

A new family has moved into the Thompson home on Elm Street and it's not long before teenage son Jesse (Mark Patton) is experiencing lots of topless, sweat-inducing nightmares.

Freddy doesn't want to kill Jesse, however–rather, he wants Jesse to kill for him. Via some sort of possession. I guess so that Freddy can cross over from nightmares to the waking world? He's just sort of around in this one, terrorizing teens and the like, some sort of supernatural being made flesh. And The Old Thompson Place is kind of haunted? It's all a bit jumbled and nonsensical and unexplained and as I said, it throws out virtually all the rules from Part One. But let's face it: anyone who's seen Freddy's Revenge knows that all of that is secondary to the most engrossing thing about it, and that's holy shit this movie is so gay.

I'm far from the first person to acknowledge this, but it's sort of impossible to discuss the film without talking about it as an allegory about a young man figuring out that he likes other young men. It's so full of subtext that it's basically just text. It wouldn't be wrong to call it Tom of Finland's Revenge, you know?

"He's inside me and he wants to take me again!"

I mean, where to start? There's the way Freddy tenderly strokes Jesse's face as he tells him how much he needs him. You know. For killing.

There's Jesse's weird relationship with Grady–they antagonize each other in gym class until finally Grady pulls Jesse's pants down and they tussle on the ground...and they spend a lot of time together doing push ups. You know. As punishment.

Jesse has more chemistry with Grady than he does with his ostensible girlfriend Lisa. While he keeps Lisa at arm's length, Grady is the one he turns to when he really needs to talk. (There's a kind of heartbreaking moment in a scene in the school cafeteria where Grady essentially asks Jesse out–just to a movie to, like, get Jesse's mind off his troubles–and it's promptly lost in the chatter as Lisa and her friend arrive at the table.) The most telling, of course, occurs during the pool party late in the film. Jesse and Lisa are finally, maybe going to do it...but Freddy interferes so Jesse freaks out and flees. He flees straight to Grady's bedroom and they have this exchange:

"Something is trying to get inside my body!"

"Yeah, she's female and she's waiting for you at the cabana...and you wanna sleep with me."

I mean, is it so crazy to read this all as super gay? Have straight teenage boys ever really into Limahl and Tina Turner?

This is just the tip of the big gay iceberg, y'all! There's also Jesse really subtly getting...attacked? confronted by?...a snake that coils up from between his legs.

There's the sole board game that Jesse owns, the one he keeps in the closet, natch:

There's Jesse waking or maybe still sleeping but either way, he finds his lamp or whatever that is all melted and looking like a dripping phallus. Next to (and onto) a copy of On the Road.

And then there's the boys' gym teacher, Schneider, the one who's rumored to be into "queer S&M stuff." The one who really is into queer S&M stuff, as Jesse finds out when his nocturnal wanderings lead him to the local bar for gays and weirdos. Ol' teach is sporting a leather vest (of course) and takes Jesse back to the school to take a shower...and of course the teacher dies, but not before he's assaulted by balls and jock straps thrown in his face. And not before he's stripped naked, tied up in the shower, and whipped with a towel.

While a couple of nameless males are quickly killed at the pool party, the only characters of substance that are killed throughout the film are Grady and Schneider. If this is the tale of Jesse figuring out his sexual identity, it's rather significant that he murders only the person he loves but isn't "supposed" to and the "pervert" he doesn't want to be.

At the film's end, Jesse is "saved" by choosing heterosexuality. Lisa's declarations of love literally defeat Freddy, the man who's been trying to take Jesse away from her, the man trying to lure Jesse to the dark side. But this is a horror film, so this is quickly followed by a Horror Movie Coda™ that shows the nightmare isn't over. The allegory extends right up through this ending: Jesse's battle still rages within him because you can't just choose a sexuality and live a life that goes against who you are. I mean, you could, but it's a super bad idea. Just look what happened to those kids at the pool party!

Speaking of the pool party, this nameless, dialogue-less girl with the hair rules so hard.

Other stray thoughts:

I love love love that Grady has posted a sign to make it clear that NO NERDS are allowed in his room.

I also love love love that in this film, Nancy has become something of an urban legend, the girl who saw her boyfriend get murdered, was locked in her house by her mother, and went crazy. I want an alternate version of Freddy's Revenge where Jesse has to find Nancy to learn what she knows and Nancy lives in a big, creepy house and everyone's afraid of her but she's just an ass-kicker who doesn't have time for your shit. Basically she's like Christine in The Convent.

Finally, while it has no bearing on anything beyond being a complete and total clusterfuck of an eyesore, I thought you guys might enjoy the absolutely hideous menu screen of my DVD, as it's quite possibly the worst one I've ever seen. You're welcome!

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!

Let me tell you about some stuff I watched

Boy I tell ya, this life as a well-versed horror fan is indeed a hard knock one, for I generally feel that I've seen all the good horror movies there are to see. I find myself totally envious when I learn that someone has yet to see a time-honored classic such as Halloween or Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell. "You there!" I say. "Your face is about to be rocked off by unbelievable heights of terror. I remember that feeling well, and I find myself totally envious!" Then they say "Get away from me, old woman," and I go back in the house.

Listen, I ain't got time to be a cynic anymore and I try to give every movie a fair shake. I certainly don't add The Curse of Lizzie Borden: Prom Night to my Netflix queue with any notion that it's going to end up in the Criterion Collection of my heart (its title most definitely will, though, I mean oh my god). Still, when I decide to give a film my eyeball virginity, I want to believe it has the potential to blow me away but good. It happens very rarely, but when it does my eternal horror flame burns a little bit brighter.

Well. Said eternal horror flame is now an eternal horror bonfire thanks to Who Can Kill a Child? (1976), which blew my mind so much that I'm still trying to process it.

A third pregnancy has Tom (Lewis Fiander) and his wife Evelyn (Prunella Ransome) feeling a bit overrun, so they leave their two little ones at home in England and head to a remote Spanish island for a brief vacation. After a four hour journey in a small powerboat, they arrive at Almanzora and find it eerily quiet and empty save a few children who do little more than stare at them. There is no one in attendance in the shops, houses, and hotel in the small village; food left on tables and a television tuned to static indicate that folks must have left in a hurry.

The truth is much darker: the island's adult population was murdered by the children, and Tom and Evelyn are next.

Now, now, before you go thinking, "You were blown away by some Children of the Corn shit?" let's get a few things straight. Sure, on paper Who Can Kill a Child? sounds similar to the best part of Children of the Corn (come on, everyone knows that the part where the kids kill their parents is the best part of that movie), but trust me, man, this is no Corn-ening. Who Can Kill a Child? is depressing and shockingly brutal, if not necessarily graphic. It's a fantastic watch but a tough one, particularly the lengthy opening credits sequence, which consists of several minutes' worth of vintage newsreel footage depicting the atrocities committed on children in concentration camps and wars the world over. Honestly, it's too much; I managed to resist the strong urge to fast-forward, and I nearly turned the whole thing off. I get the point that director Narciso Ibáñez Serrador was trying to make with it, but it still feels exploitative and largely unnecessary.

Don't let it dissuade you from watching this film, because the rest of it is must-see, a primo slice of 70s horror and an incredibly tense experience. Still, be warned: this movie does push boundaries and break some of mainstream cinema's last taboos by answering the very question it poses in the title.

On the exact opposite end of the spectrum from this film is Spooked, a brand new Internette Comedie Programme from Geek & Sundry.

The show gives a gentle- and I do mean gentle!- ribbing to the horror genre and those ubiquitous ghost hunter-style programs as we follow the exploits of a rag-tag group of Dollar Tree paranormal investigators. The premiere episode follows the group as they suss out some poltergeist activity and bust some ghosts at the home of a newlywed couple.

As it's only one episode in, Spooked has yet to find its legs thanks to the "getting to know the cast" bits that weigh down nearly all first episodes. It's off to a promising start, though, particularly as it's co-written by Felicia Day, whose webutainment (let's pretend that's a word) pedigree can't be beat. Make no mistake, the show is a comedy with the lightest sprinkling of horror...but I'm down to see where the show goes. If I were to write Spooked one of those open letters that seems to be de rigueur nowadays, it'd go a little something like...this, which totally counts as writing an open letter, I guess:

Dear Spooked, 

Don't be afraid to have a bit more bite if you want to reel in the horror crowd; after all, the best horror-comedies feature the genres living together in perfect harmony à la ebony and ivory. Take a cue from Sam Raimi's playbook (or hell, Edgar Wright's) and get your hands dirty!  

Also, please, the Annoying Tech Guy stock character is so irritatingly overplayed in paranormal horror movies, you don't need him, too. 

Kudos on a diverse cast and featuring women who are married- to each other!- in the episode without making it, like, a thing. Someday mainstream entertainment will catch up to the people who simply make the kind of shit they want to see and put it on the web. 

Oh, and after her fucking brilliant performance as Ellie in The Last of Us, Ashley Johnson has an Ultimate Lifetime Forever Free Pass from me, so casting her in this ensures that you will always have at least one viewer (me). I would even go see, like, Black Christmas 2 if she were in it, even though the very idea of a Black Christmas 2 is an abomination and makes me want to kill myself. I mean, I hated the first one so much, a sequel would just- but wait, this isn't about me, it's about you. What was I saying? I don't even know anymore. Well, bye.   

PS - there should be a horror vlog on Geek & Sundry, I am just saying.

You can watch Spooked on Hulu and/or on Geek & Sundry's YouTube channel.

In other Internette news, check out We Come in Pieces: The Rebirth of the Horror Anthology Film, a short documentary about...wait for it...horror anthologies. Familiar faces such as that of Joe Dante discuss what makes a horror anthology so great. Because they are! You should know by now that I love 'em so hard. Any fan who knows what's up should give this one a whirl...at the least, you'll be reminded how super fucking rad the soundtrack for Creepshow is. And you can feel superior when none of the talking heads mention that the segment they go on about in Tales from the Darkside: The Movie is a remake of a segment in the Japanese anthology Kwaidan (1964). Geez, pffft, everyone knows that, like why didn't they uh ohhhhh my anti-obnoxious pills are wearing off, I gotta go!

Juliette Cummins Week Day 4: DEADLY DREAMS

Jeezalou, the late 80s were a dark time for horror. Despite an unwillingness to let go on the part of a few franchises, the slasher cycle was well and truly over, and it would be decades before the genre regained some of its bite. With the exception of a bright spot here and there, it's as if the world was simply horror-ed out for a while, you know? And while I'd like to say that Deadly Dreams (1988) is some lost classic or undiscovered gem...sigh. It is not.

But it is the movie crammed with the most homoerotic subtext since A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge, so hooray, all is not lost!

The story begins on a magical Christmas Eve. While his father argues on the phone about someone named "Perkins", young Alex opens an early gift and is thrilled that he's received what every boy- nay, what every child- wants: a glass reindeer.

This idyllic celebration is interrupted by a knock at the door. Alex opens it to reveal Perkins himself, wearing a hunter's outfit and a wolf mask and brandishing a shotgun. He blows away Alex's mom and dad like something out of Martyrs lite! Like, really, really, really lite!

Perkins tells Alex to run, then takes potshots at him as the kid escapes, which is really not a nice thing to do, if you think about it. Right as he's about to blow Alex away...

...Alex wakes up! Phew, it was just a dream, and Alex (Mitchell Anderson) is now all grown up and safe and sound in his college apartment that he outfitted exclusively with items from the Pier 1 Imports clearance bin.

Yes yes, Alex is plagued by dreams of Perkins the hunter. Or is Perkins actually hunting him? Well, Perkins is long dead. But what if he isn't? But he is. But then he's over there! Oh wait, that was just a dream. But then there's Perkins! Oh, but that was a dream, too. And so on.

There is a lot- and by "a lot" I mean "a metric fuck ton" of this "oh, it was just a dream" shit throughout the movie. Sure, maybe the title might give it away...but geez, the pattern gets so boring after a while when you realize that no one is ever really in jeopardy. Or are they?

No one believes that the hunter from Alex's dreams is real- not his best friend Danny (Thom Babbes, who also wrote the script), an obnoxious, self-professed ladies' man who uses his pre-med schooling for access to prescription meds. Cops assume Alex is on drugs. His new girlfriend Maggie (Juliette Cummins) thinks he probably just needs more sleep. Older brother Jack (Xander Berkeley) thinks Alex needs to "man up", you know, and quit with these lofty dreams of being a writer. Instead, he advises Alex to invest the trust fund he's about to receive into the family business. I just love that Jack has furnished his office with one of those lightning balls from the Executive Collection at Spencer's Gifts.

But Perkins keeps showing up at the darndest times, in Alex's dreams and in his reality. What are dreams? What is reality? Damn, Deadly Dreams will mess with your head!

Well, I don't want to give too much away here, because there are some pretty decent and nasty twists throughout. Then again, Deadly Dreams isn't that great. It's more thriller than horror. it's never received a DVD release and it's fairly obscure even on VHS, so are you really gonna track it down to check it out? I guess you'll just have to live in suspense until you do!

At this point, you're probably thinking, "Okay, so where's all this gay you were talking about?" Hmm, where to begin.

Let's begin with Danny, who is immediately jealous of Maggie for no apparent reason. "What can you possibly see in her?" Danny whines at Alex, who gives some blah blah answer when he should have just said, you know, who wouldn't fall for a girl who can do this? It's Cynthia Rothrock meets Fame, fer cryin' out loud.

Danny and Alex snipe at each other like an old married couple, which culminates in Alex yelling "I jinx you, pig bitch!" during a game of pool. After taking a Polaroid of a sleeping, topless Alex (because, uh, he thought Maggie was there, too! Even though she's clearly not!), Danny hops in for a cuddle.

Later he tries to convince Alex to go hunting with him. As he enthusiastically cleans and brandishes his rifle, he begs Alex to come along since he clearly "needs a little release."

Then he aims the gun at Alex and talks about the way "you can feel this rush come over you!" But he's totally only talking about hunting. Yes. Hunting.

There's just so much more, even beyond that Mitchell Anderson (who actually is a big gay) spends most of the film shirtless for one reason or another. And I mean, come on...

That shirt! I'd say I'm reading too much into it but it's all pretty obvious if you watch the film. And anyway, subtext is the best (well, second best after...text...I guess), so tough!

It's too bad that Deadly Dreams is so GD lethargic, because there's a decent movie in there somewhere, and when the film's nasty side shows it's enjoyable (and I'm not just talking about that spinning bed sex scene) (you guys, there's a spinning bed sex scene). Unfortunately, it's buried beneath a big pile of too many dreams and it's not remotely "horror" enough.  Alex is a rather annoying leading man- when he's not yelling, he's whining- and you don't ever really care if Perkins is only in his mind or not. I will say, however, that he has my sympathies for continually being given shitty, shitty gifts, from the glass reindeer to the mounted deer head that Maggie buys him.

Most of all, it's good to finally see Juliette Cummins in a lead role instead of relegated to basically "Victim Number 4" status.

Is the payoff at the end of Deadly Dreams worth all the drowsy downtime it takes to get there? Probably not. Then again, what else are you gonna do with your life, hmm? Even sub-par 80sVHS horror is better than what you have in store, I'm sure.