The Sunday Edition

Check it, yo: the nominee list for those 31 Willies Flicks- a whopping 180 films in total- went up at Ed Hardy's Shoot the Projectionist today. Git yerself over there and vote vote vote, then tune in on Halloween to see who takes the cake and who...doesn't. I'm pleased- pleased as punch, I say- that every one of my 31 choices made the list; I choose to think that this is because I have my finger on the pulse of everything that's cool and good and scary in the world of horror, not because I'm unoriginal.

Phase two of this Willies List project- the voting- is going to prove to be much more difficult than simply coming up with 31 films to nominate, because the voting is weighted. That means I have to rank my choices, and that seems impossible. I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot of time staring off into space and pondering (ha ha ha...get it? PONDERing? My name is a verb!) for this task. Damn you, Ed Hardy! Damn you!

In other news...in other BIG FAT HUGE NEWS, I got to interview Elvira about her reality show, The Search for the Next Elvira.

Let me repeat...I spoke to Elvira. Trust me, I am not exaggerating in the least when I say it was a bit like talking to Jesus for me. Early on this October, your pal and mine The Retropolitan wrote all about the Mistress of the Dark in a post titled Why I Love Elvira, and reading his thoughts were like...uh, reading my own.

I have such fond memories of staying up late to watch Movie Macabre- I got to watch crappy horror movies (which sometimes scared me despite the crappiness) and I got to hear wisecracks and bad jokes from...gasp...another girl. Little Final Girl found a bit of a role model in Elvira, what with her love of all things spooky and her fucking impeccable comic timing, and getting the opportunity to actually tell her as much was priceless. Yes, I couldn't resist gushing a bit during the interview- honestly, it was all I could do not to simply giggle like a simpleton and blurt out "You're Elvira!" the whole time; had it been anything but a phone interview, I likely would have done so. I could barely contain myself whenever she uttered a word in her trademark inflection- and if you're familiar with Elvira, you know what I'm talking about: "haaa-larious", "hell-lo!", and "l-l-l-looooves", for starters.

Read it here, peeps...I'm still giddy.

Day 13- "Don't tell what we did, Agnes..."

If there's one film I've gone on about here at Final Girl...on and on and on, that is...without ever really exploring it in-depth, it's Bob Clark's 1974 genre masterpiece (yes, I said it) Black Christmas. Even now, when I intend to write about it, I find myself unable to conjure up much more than a slack-jawed "Durrrr...it scare. Me got scared and like. Merrrrrrr...."

I realize that's ridiculous, of course. But it's like, the more I love a horror movie, the less I want to talk about it. In fact, the more I love a horror movie- when I find one that really, truly frightens me- the less I want to see it. Films like Black Christmas are so...well, special to me as a horror fan that I try to tuck them away and pull them out maybe once a year to watch, lest the scare factor fade away. The more I analyze and discuss, the less terrifying they become. With repeated viewings comes a sort of numbness and the frights simply aren't so effective anymore. I mean, at this point I've seen Halloween (1978) so many times that it works for me in theory- I still appreciate it and love it and remember all the scares- but I'm no longer frightened by it. And you know what? That sucks.

Last year, when I did the "movies that actually scare me" marathon, I found it difficult to write about films like The Haunting and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre for all the reasons I've described above, but I did it anyway because you were all obviously forcing me to. Don't get me wrong, I'll talk about movies I love with you until I'm blue in the face...but there's something about writing, that whole having to lay out paragraphs and coherent ideas thing that makes me reluctant. It's akin to pulling back the curtain and finding the Wizard, or learning how a magic trick is done, I think, and sometimes that ruins all the fun.

So, what can I say about Black Christmas? It's not a film I watched when I was young; I have no memories of it scaring me out of my footie pajamas. Though I'd read about it numerous times, I saw it for the first time relatively recently, after the first DVD release appeared...and had I been wearing footie pajamas at the time, then yes, I would have been scared right out of them. This film is one of the very very few I've seen (for the first time)- and certainly the only slasher film- in the last, oh, ten years that's truly frightened me to my core. I was taken back to my childhood, to the days when Michael Myers still terrified me by simply standing next to a shrub, to the days when nothing was more frightening than Harry Warden stalking the tunnels of a mine, to the days when I'd lie in bed wondering if Jason Voorhees could scale the outside of my house and climb in my window. What a find, this Black Christmas!

What is it about this film that got- and gets- to me so much? There's plenty- the fact that the killer did scale the outside of the house and climb in the window; the psychopath hiding in the house; those damn phone calls and the eye behind the door.

I could go on and on here about set design and cinematography and Bob Clark's direction; I could talk about all the characters and give you a plot synopsis...but I'm not going to (though I will give a small shout-out to Margot Kidder; fuck Lois Lane: Barb, that foul-mouthed, chain smoking, choker-wearing asthmatic boozehound sexpot is my favorite Kidder character).

I could ruminate about the nameless killer and what exactly it was that he and Agnes did with the baby- but then they tried that last year and we all saw how well that went.

There are plenty of people who've watched Black Christmas (some even seeking it out because I have gone on and on about it so) and found it...lacking. I don't know what that proves- just that the world don't move to the beat of just one drum, I suppose. Then again, the ranks of Black Christmas fans includes Steve Martin and Elvis Presley, and if it's good enough for Steve Martin and Elvis Presley, then it certainly ought to be good enough for you. You just think you're so big, don't you?

However effective you find the film, however, there's no denying its importance in the genre- its influence can be found in countless horror films, from When a Stranger Calls to...well, every post-1974 slasher film. I can't wait to watch it again...in a year or so.

Day 12- "You'll enjoy Mr Barlow..."

The unbelievable awesomeness of the 1979 TV miniseries Salem's Lot gives me the urge to start droning on and on about how made-for-television movies used to be so good and so scary and why don't they make 'em this way anymore and why does everything suck now and these kids with their rock n roll and they don't make that gum Fudgalicious anymore either and I used to love that stuff but it doesn't really matter because even if they did still make it I bet it would cost like a dollar and can you believe the cost of gum nowadays? Seriously, if you've been here for any length of time, this isn't the first incident of my prattling on about made-for-TV movies you've had to endure. And once again, I ask: why don't they make horror movies for television anymore? I'd like to place the blame squarely on Janet Jackson's nipple, but in all honesty, the made-for-TV horror heyday was over long before we were all subjected to Ms Jackson's headlight.

But for reals, y'all...Salem's Lot? That shit rocks.

Author Ben Mears (David Soul) returns to Salem's Lot, Maine to write about the Marsten House, a reputedly haunted house that gave Ben nightmares during his childhood in the sleepy little town. The house now belongs to Mssrs Straker and Barlow, though only Straker (James Mason) is seen about town; the dotty-n-creepy ol' chap is about to open an antique shop.

Not long after Straker's arrival, the residents of Salem's Lot are disappearing, falling ill, and dying. It's as if a disease is consuming the town itself, and the evil seems to be emanating from Marsten House, high on a hill overlooking Salem's Lot. Can I get a "What the--?"

The town, you see, is being taken over by vampires. And guess what? The mysterious Mr Barlow (Reggie Nalder) is the head vampire! Yes, it's true. And guess what else? He's really fucking scary.

Salem's Lot, along with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, serves as a reminder that director Tobe Hooper can actually make a superlative horror film. The film is absolutely full of tension. Sure, we get plenty of scares and vampire action, but by the time Barlow makes an appearance- after the film has passed the two-hour mark- the audience is full of anticipation, not knowing what to expect- and wow, what a pay off. Barlow shows up at the county jail to dispatch poor Ned Tebbets (Barney McFadden), and Hooper frames Barlow's disgusting face in extreme close-up; it's flat out one of the most jarring and effective sequences in any horror film.

As for Ned, he's so frightened he can't even emit a sound...can you blame him?

There's just so much that's right in this movie, and it holds up flawlessly almost 30 years after its initial airing. Everyone who's seen Salem's Lot has a favorite set piece, whether its Ralphie Glick (Ronnie Scribner) floating outside his brother's window, beckoning...

...or Mrs Glick rising from the table at the mortuary- a scene I love because although Ben has figured out what's going on in Salem's Lot (and he's even gone so far as to fashion a makeshift crucifix out of tongue depressors), he's still petrified. Though it's a natural reaction, too many times in horror films characters don't seem deeply frightened by what they're witnessing or encountering- but when an actor just nails it, as David Soul does here, it leaves the audience cowering as well.



Then, of course, there's my favorite scene, in which Barlow comes to the Petrie house and faces off against Father Callahan (James Gallery). The room shakes, the lightbulbs burst, and "The Master" rises from a dark heap on the floor. Hooper shoots the sequence from a low vantage point, and it renders Barlow this massive beast, seeming to fill the entire kitchen.

We don't learn much about Mr Barlow- he travels alone. His first name is Kurt. We don't come to know how he was made a vampire, how old he is...and I say, hallelujah. He's a monster, a parasite who spreads death; aesthetically he's unbelievably repulsive, grotesque and frightening...to learn more about him would take away the mystique, would make him just someone who used to be a man. Where's the fun in that?

awesome movie poster friday- the SOME VAMPIRES edition!

Day 11- "You know me and blood..."

In 1987, writer/director Clive Barker burst onto the scene with Hellraiser, a deeply disturbing meditation on human desire, sadomasochism, and hedonism. Barker created an entire universe within a single film- a universe where pleasure and pain are intertwined and flesh is weak. Who could have predicted that Hellraiser would go on to spawn 7 sequels, that Pinhead would go on to become a bonafide horror icon?

I don't know...maybe Micki Dahne?

It's a tale as old as time itself: unsatisfied with the pleasures available to him in our dimension, Frank Cotton (Sean Chapman) seeks out and purchases a puzzle box from a mysterious dealer. Upon opening the puzzle box, the Cenobites appear- they're demons from another dimension, natch- and tear Frank apart with chains, hooks, and all manner of pain-inflicting paraphernalia. The puzzle box closes and Frank disappears.

Frank's mousy brother Larry (Andrew Robinson) moves into Frank's empty house with his frigid wife Julia (Clare Higgins); before long, Julia is reminiscing about her brief-n-torrid affair with Frank. Larry can't satisfy her with his gentle ways- Julia needs a man who gets things done! By "things", of course, I mean "her".

After Larry accidentally cuts his hand and spills some blood on the floor, Frank is resurrected- but not completely. Though he's gooey and grody, Frank convinces Julia to provide him with bodies on which to feed; their blood will make him complete. Once he's complete, he and Julia can once again get it on, and Frank promises they'll run away together to escape the Cenobites, who will no doubt be pissed that Frank managed to elude their grasp.

Into the midst of all of this wanders Larry's daughter Kirsty (Ashley Laurence), who soon enough finds herself battling both Uncle Frank and the Cenobites. What's a girl to do?

I always enjoy watching the earliest films in a horror franchise- it gives you a chance to check out the movie maniacs before they were stars, so to speak. You know, back when Freddy Krueger was more frightening than funny...and when the atrocities inflicted by Pinhead and Company played second fiddle to the atrocities humans inflict on one another in the name of selfish pursuits. Yes, that time long ago, before the Cenobites were depicted on t-shirts and reduced to Lego-size.

Admittedly, though, those Lego Cenobites are kickass and cute as Hell- though I'm sure Clive Barker never intended them to be cute. These demons are at their most frightening in Hellraiser, and that's largely thanks to Barker's direction. They're kept largely in the shadows, they're mysterious, intimidating, and fucking scary. The threats the Cenobites make- or are they promises?- make something as innocuous as a small puzzle box a frightening tool of eeeeevil, a gateway to a dimension you might not want to visit. That said, however, it's still not as terrifying as the time I finally solved a Rubik's Cube and this dude showed up at my door:

With the exception of the laser light show at the end of the film, the effects in Hellraiser are top notch. There's blood and goo and gross chunks galore, and Frank's resurrection scene is a gory joy to behold (though I couldn't help but think- "Man, that's going to be all CGIed in the remake...").

Clive Barker created a world that horror fans simply wanted to see more of, and so Pinhead and His Peeps have gone on to all sorts of wacky adventures through time and- Charles Nelson Reilly help us all- outer space. It's understandable, in a way, that the Cenobites would move to center stage in subsequent films in the series, but they're at their most frightening when they act as a sort of Greek chorus, when they show us the true horrors of human nature.

Le Choice

Now that The Burning has come and gone, it's time for me to put on my choosing cap and pick another Film Club selection. Unfortunately, there's no sequel to The Burning (if there were, I'd hope it would be titled The Burning 2: The Reburnening), so I'm going to have to name a Cropsy-less film. It just so happens that a movie I've been dying to see- dying, I tells ya!- has finally been released on DVD. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

Eyes of a Stranger! The DVD box art, of course, is completely different than the original (and awesome) movie poster art, but the tag line is the same. This 1981 slasher flick has long eluded my grasp, but no more! I'm so super-psyched- I mean, The Love Boat's Lauren Tewes starring as that beloved horror staple, an anchorwoman in peril? Jennifer Jason Leigh (in her first big-screen role) starring as her deaf, dumb, and blind sister? Effects by Tom Savini? 1981? How can we lose?

Well, it might suck. But at least we'll all be in it together, my Film Club Coolies! Speaking of Film Club Coolies, I'm implementing a new rule with this next installment: if you want your review to be linked here, your review must, in turn, provide a link to Final Girl. I don't care how it goes down: "This is my review for the Final Girl Film Club..." or "The character of Elizabeth reminded me of Final Girl because she was so smart and pretty..." or "The character of Hagatha reminded me of Final Girl because she was irritating..."; anything will do, but you gots ta link to me. We'll form a big cyber-circle of love and horror.

So! Eyes of a Stranger. I've provided the Netflix link for you, but beyond that, you're on your own. Let's rock it with Lauren Tewes!

The film: Eyes of a Stranger
The due date: Monday, November 5

Day 10- "Did she see you?"

Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to include The Woman in Black (1989) on my Willies List because it's a made for (British) TV film. Here at Final Girl, however, I can do whatever I want...and what I want is to tell you about The Woman in Black, for she's indeed a Willies runner-up.

The film, based on the book by Susan Hill, is set in the early 20th century and concerns the good-hearted young solicitor and family man Arthur Kidd (Adrian Rawlins). He's sent to settle the Drablow Estate after the last of the Drablows passes on.

At the elderly Mrs Drablow's funeral, Arthur is surprised to find a fellow mourner, for Mrs Drablow was rumored to be a rather solitary old broad. Nevertheless, a mysterious woman in black keeps to herself in both the church and the cemetery and manages to creep Arthur out sufficiently.


After the funeral (and despite local advice against it), Arthur heads to Marsh House- a lonely manor that's only accessible during low tide, as one must use a causeway across the marsh to reach it.

Before long, Arthur finds himself haunted by the same woman in black. She appears in the dilapidated cemetery behind the old house, and the poor fellow grows increasingly fearful as there are noises and screams coming from the foggy marshlands. He slowly pieces together the sad story of the house and the woman he's been seeing as he reads Mrs Drablow's papers and listens to her cool old-timey audio diary. It seems that Arthur isn't the only one who's been haunted by the spectre as Mrs Drablow relates tales of late-night encounters with the woman in black: "She has become wicked..."

I'd read numerous accounts of this film, about how terrifying it is; I managed to track down a copy some time ago, and I was both excited to see it and prepared to be let down. Thankfully, I wasn't let down in the slightest: this is one scary movie, definitely worth searching out (it's currently out of print with no release date in sight). It's a superlative ghost story, plain and simple- there's an old, creaky, isolated house...there are voices and noises both inside the house and out...there's unreliable electricity...and a cranky spirit you don't want to make eye contact with.

I love ghost stories...I love love love them, and I find that supernatural horror tends to frighten me the most. The Woman in Black is no exception. Apparently there's a stage version as well, and it's even better than the film. Now if I can just track down tickets to that...

Day 9- "Boy!"

Let's just get this out of the way: Phantasm (1979) really really scared me when I was a kid. There was no doubt I'd put it on my Willies List, but I wonder how someone seeing the film for the first time today might find it. Is it actually a scary movie, or is it simply that it fucked with my impressionable young mind? I'm not objective enough to tell the difference.

The plot is sort of simple: a group of young lads do battle with an evil mortuary attendant known only as The Tall Man. Phantasm is so much more than that, obviously (in fact, if you want to put on your magic analyzing hat, it's a film about fear of abandonment, loss, and death...but who's got time for that right now?), but the more you pick it apart, the less sense it seems to make. All I know is, from the weird purple-clad broad who transforms into The Tall Man to the dwarves scuttling around to the mustard-oozing finger that turns into a flying bug to the mortuary setting to the dwarf world to The Tall Man himself and of course to the ball, this film unsettles me like few others can- even as I simultaneously find the whole thing unbearably silly.





This is perhaps going to sound strange to anyone who's not...well, me...but Phantasm is like watching a Pink Floyd double LP unfold before my very eyes- particularly their album Ummagumma. More particularly, the track "Several Small Species of Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict". I can't tell you why, exactly, but that...err, song, if you want to call it that...left me completely fucking terrified whenever my parents listened to it. Terrified as in I would have to go sit outside until it was over. Terrified as in I still can't listen to it (and believe me, I've tried) without the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. As I said, I can't really pinpoint why that is; most likely, everyone's got his or her own Ummagumma, that innocuous thing that scars his or her brain. It's completely irrational.

And there's something about Phantasm that makes me feel that way, too, despite its ridiculousness.

Isn't that awesome??

In related news, Phantasm's Mike (Michael Baldwin) was the winner of the 1979 Nellie Oleson Looky-Likey Contest.

Day 8- "You think I'm insane?"

Wow, another black and white public domain flick made it onto my Willies List! What are the odds? Actually, Carnival of Souls (1962) is the third such film to make it onto my list, along with Night of the Living Dead ('68) and Nosferatu ('22). It just goes to show you something or other, I'm sure.

One fine afternoon, some crazy kids decide to engage in some impromptu drag racing. They gleefully ignore a "road closed!" warning sign, and eventually the car filled with girls pitches off the side of a bridge, ending up in the drink. Pfft- women drivers, am I right or am I right? Unfortunately, only Mary (Candace Hilligoss) survives- she emerges from the muddy river in an understandable state of confusion.

Shortly after the accident, Mary is off to Utah to embark on a new career as a church organist, though she makes it eminently clear to all involved that her new occupation doesn't mean she's the churchy type: "I'm not taking the vows, I'm just playing the organ." This is disappointing news for her new boss, who insists she try to put her soul into the gig- a church organist can't get by on talent and skill alone, after all.

During the long drive to her new home, Mary sees creepy figures-n-faces along the road; is she crazy, or is there something...sinister happening in Utah?

There's an abandoned amusement park and pavilion in town to which Mary seems inexplicably drawn. The visions of ghostly figures seem to follow her around everywhere, and in one well-executed sequence, Mary herself seems to be invisible to those around her; while shopping, the saleswomen cease responding to her. Both in the store and out, all is silent: a jackhammer runs soundlessly, and Mary hears no footsteps save her own. What the eff is going on here, and will the answers be found at the eerie pavilion?

Let's be honest here: we all know what the eff is going on here. It's been 40-odd years since the film's release, and the central idea of Carnival of Souls has been addressed countless times. If you've seen at lease one episode of The Twilight Zone, then you can pretty much guess the plot withing the film's first ten minutes. But who cares? The fun is in the getting there, right? And Carnival is a damn spooky little film that's critically acclaimed but often publicly ignored. The critical acclaim is well-earned, however, as director Herk Harvey (who also plays the role of the 'main ghost' throughout the film, pictured above) squeezes everything he can out of a modest budget to create an atmospheric ghost tale.

The acting, for the most part, is undeniably amateurish and audiences not enthralled by "mood" pieces (such as Let's Scare Jessica to Death) will likely be yawning. But people like that are jerks, so who cares?

Should you feel like scratching beneath the surface, I suppose Mary's plight throughout Carnival of Souls could be seen as a metaphor for a woman who dismisses traditional ideas of what role she should play in society, not unlike that of the nameless protagonist in Charlotte Perkins Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper. Mary isn't a church-goer, she doesn't care what the other "ladies" think of her, she hasn't had any desire to have a boyfriend or a child, she leaves her family behind to take on a new job in another state, and she just plain can't seem to relate to people. She must be crazy! None of those characteristics seem particularly notable today, but wholesome young women simply didn't act that way in 1962. Of course, we horror folk know that she's neither crazy nor attempting to strike a blow for women's rights, right? Right.

In related news, star Candace Hilligoss was the winner of the 1962 Anne Heche Looky-Likey Contest.

And yes, the Anne Heche Looky-Likey Contest was created before Anne Heche was.

As I said, Carnival of Souls is indeed in the public domain, which means you can buy shitty copies at your local dollar store, you can download it off the internet, or you can seek out the (naturally) pricy and super-sweet Criterion Edition. Drool. There's even a colorized version of the film out there somewhere for those of you who can't deal with black and white; I've yet to see it, but I can't help but assume that it won't be on par with the gorgeous cinematography of the original.



The film's score, which relies heavily on organs (whether Mary is playing them or not), gives Carnival a nice touch of the gothic. The ghostly/zombie-ish figures become increasingly aggressive throughout the film; in a scene recalled later in numerous horror films (recently in Romero's Land of the Dead) they finally rise from the water and eventually give chase in a horrifying sequence in the empty, decaying pavilion.

Again it's proven that you don't need much to make an effective horror film! Again it's proven that you can find some gems in the public domain!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to prove, once again, how much I love pizza.

Day 7- "..."

Many a moon ago, as I'm sure you recall because you hang on my every word, I posted a bit about vampires and my feelings on them. The short of it is: I'm not that into 'em, but I like the scary-looking ones because...umm...they scare me. Piper over at Lazy Eye Theatre touched on this same notion yesterday, and I'm pretty much in the same boat he is: the look of Nosferatu scares me, but the idea doesn't. Having said that, though, there's not much imagery out there that terrifies me more than Max Schreck as Count Orlok in Murnau's Nosferatu: eine Symphonie des Grauens (A Symphony of Horror). This guy is straight outta Compton your worst nightmare.

There's one other on-screen vampire that's made me cower in fear, and his look is based on Murnau's leading man (yes, I'm sure you know what film I'm talking about, and yes, I'll be posting about it later this month); nearly 100 years on and Orlok still rules. However did Murnau do it without CGI?

Nosferatu almost vanished from the face of the Earth forever as the courts ruled in favor of Bram Stoker's widow, Florence, when she sued for copyright infringement: all existing prints of the film were ordered to be destroyed. The movie was already making its way around the world, however, and several copies survived. As the film has long since been in the public domain, it's readily available- often of the poor quality you'd expect to find in a movie anyone can distribute for a buck. There are restored fancy-pants editions out there, but you can even catch a version in its entirety on YouTube (it's a...uh, Stokerized version, as the character names are all pulled directly from Dracula, which is cited as source material).

So what flavor of vampire floats your boat? The debonair, nicely-coiffed romantic type who sneaks into your bedroom, seduces you, and turns you into a vampire? Or the grotesque rodent-like monster who brings on da plague and only bites to kill kill kill? One I'd rather meet, given the choice...but as for watching, bring on the ugly!

Film Club: The Burning

First off, a confession: though I chose The Burning (1981) for the Film Club because it's been recently released on DVD in all its uncut glory- uncut glory I've never seen- I procrastinated, ran out of time, and ended up watching my dusty old VHS copy. I'm such a big lame.

Mean old camp caretaker Cropsy is trying to sleep off a bender when some fed-up kids decide to play a prank on him. As can be expected, the prank goes awry- Cropsy ends up engulfed in flames, but he miraculously survives. The poor guy spends five years in a hospital subjected to unsuccessful skin grafts and smack-talk from the least sensitive nursing staff ever, who refer to Cropsy as a freak, a monster, and a Big Mac. If you think that's bad, though, you should hear how they talk about the peeps with renal failure!

Eventually Cropsy is deemed fit enough to return to society, though he's got a bit of mental scarring to go along with his physical scarring. By "he's got a bit of mental scarring", of course, I mean "He's filled with anger and bloodthirsty rage, and he'd going to seek vengeance on lots of innocent teenagers frolicking at summer camp- not even the same summer camp where Cropsy used to work, but whatevs."

Yes, indeed, Cropsy kills a prostitute after she gives him the Big Mac treatment...uh, by which I mean she's horrified by his appearance. "The Big Mac treatment" isn't a euphemism for some hooker specialty, although now that I think about it, that would be kind of cool. Witness:

Easy Iris: I feel so gross! That last guy demanded The Big Mac Treatment.

Onion Annie: Damn, girl, you gots to draw the line somewhere. The Big Mac Treatment? Hells no!

Easy Iris: Hey, ten bucks is ten bucks.

Anyway, Cropsy leaves the big city for summer camp, garden shears in hand. At this point, The Burning becomes Meatballs as we're treated to a good 40 minutes of horny teens, full frontal nudity, and lite pranks galore- pranks which culminate in what has to be the official Least Appetizing Moon Shot ever, thanks to Fisher Stevens's ass.

Eventually one of the kids and counselors (it's difficult to tell which is which, because there are ample actors doing that I'm 25 but I can totally play 16! thing) head downriver on a canoe trip, and Cropsy finally gets his groove back. Friday the 13th-flavored hijinks ensue.

Well, not quite Friday the 13th-flavored, I should say. As Stop & Shop brand "Cola" isn't Coke, The Burning is not Friday the 13th. The ingredients are all present and accounted for- and The Burning is nothing if not as straight-up a slasher flick as they come- but it seems that as the years have passed, Cropsy ain't as scary as he used to be and this film strikes me as being a little...I don't know. Soulless? That seems to be an odd choice to use to describe a slasher film, of all things, but that's all that comes to mind. This film feels like one of a countless number of post-Friday cash-ins, but it's lacking that special something to make it an interesting film in its own right.

Undoubtedly, however, The Burning is an interesting film, one that's earned a spot on the list of "must-see" slasher cinema, an inclusion that stems more from the unique aspects of the movie rather than the movie itself. Does that make sense? I haven't had my fill of coffee yet, so it may not. What I mean is, The Burning's plot is basically inconsequential; the film's notorious reputation (the infamous "raft scene", in particular, rendered the movie banned in the UK and heavily cut-up elsewhere) and massive "before they were stars" factor mean that The Burning will be sought out for years to come despite its rather pedestrian story.

Sure, Friday the 13th has its Kevin Bacon-ness, but there's never been a little horror movie as filled with people who would go on to much bigger and much better than The Burning: I already mentioned Fisher Stevens and his terrifying derriere, but the film also features Jason Alexander and Holly Hunter amongst the campers. Behind the scenes, The Burning boasts an even more extensive list of future filmmakers: this is the first movie from Miramax, founded by Bob and Harvey Weinstein (The Burning's co-writers and producers); editor Jack Sholder would go on to direct a slew of horror films including Alone in the Dark, Arachnid, and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2; writer Brad Grey has become a big producer muckity muck, his resume including shows and films such as The Sopranos and The Assassination of Jesse James. Then, of course, there's FX guru Tom Savini- he'd already established himself as the premiere goremeister by 1981, but this film is a notable point in his career.

Oh, and the Final Girl in The Burning is actually a Final Boy. I'm not talking about some sort of Crying Game shenanigans, either- it's just a nerdy, creepy, pervy boy. I'm not sure if it's the pacing of the film (Final Boy Alfred [Brian Backer] spends a lot of time running through the woods alone), the fact that Alfred is fairly unlikeable, or the fact that he's a Boy and not a Girl and how the amount of audience investment correlates to character gender (which is an interesting topic that deserves some...dare I say it...pondering), but...not to get all erudite here, flat out- Alfred sucks and I couldn't have cared less what happened to him.

So, Film Clubbers, what's your take on this flick? Yup, it's a slasher classic, though I find myself pining for Baghead Jason...which is totally ironicalistic since Tom Savini passed on Friday the 13th Part 2 to make The Burning.

Film Club Coolies- post 'em if you got 'em!

Micah's Movie Calendar
Askewed Views
Evil on Two Legs: Corey
Evil on Two Legs: Jon
The Film School Dropout
Emma Blackwood
Kindertrauma
Mermaid Heather
Something Wicked...
No, But I Saw the Trailer