I watched stuff: Asian Invasion!

Man, I have been watching stuff like a crazy person, I tells ya! By which I mean I've been watching a lot of stuff...not necessarily that I've been watching stuff in the same manner a crazy person would watch stuff. Although I suppose I can't say that for sure, because I've never watched a crazy person watch stuff, nor have I watched myself watch stuff.

Or have I?

Anyway.

Ju-on 2 (2000)
I've mentioned before that I'm a pretty big apologist for Asian horror films, in particular the ghost stories. It really doesn't take much to get me on board with whatever vengeful spirit is going to essentially stare at people...to death! It's simply another of horror's subgenres that I've a weakness for; I realize that's a huge list (have I ever told you about the time I LOVE MOVIES WHEREIN ONE PERSON TRIES TO DRIVE ANOTHER INSANE FOR THEIR INHERITANCE?), but I am just saying. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I super wicked enjoyed Ju-On. It is what it is, and what it is is a bunch of really scary scenarios stitched together with the barest hint of a storyline. "Yeah, if someone dies when they're all pissed off, they come back as a ghost and whatever. Oh, this lady and her kid were murdered, so here they are being scary ghosts." Simple. I like it!

In fact, many people enjoyed it. So many that Ju-on blew up, becoming a franchise juggernaut with sequel after sequel after remake after remake sequel after, I think, maybe even a TV show. Despite this ubiquity, I'd never crossed paths with any of the numerous follow-ups- no, not even at Ju-on-Con 2009! (which was awesome, by the way. I cosplayed as the little boy and it was so cool! I posted pics on my deviantArt page if you wanna see)- until I plopped myself down in front of Ju-on 2 the other night.

But oh, how I wish I'd stayed ignorant! Ju-on 2 is...I don't know what the hell Ju-on 2 is. The framework isn't bad- house haunted, blah blah blah- but they try to cram every scare from the original film into the sequel and the results quickly descend into...well, pretty much parody. It's a film that proves the rule "less is more" by completely dumping on the rule and opting for the "more is more" approach instead. The ghost kid and the ghost mom are fucking everywhere. Everywhere! It's like, "Hey, the audience loved 'em in the first film, let's have 'em in every damn scene in the second!" and you know what? That shit wears off but fast! Getting a glimpse of the ghost kid lurking in the dark corner of a closet = scary. The ghost kid, like, sitting in your bowl of morning oatmeal = "What the fuck is this, Quaker? The box said 'apples n cinnamon', not 'apples n dead Japanese boy'. I want my money back!"

If- IF I SAY- you are as big an apologist as I am for this breed of film (and no, I'm not calling you fat), then it might- MIGHT I SAY- be worth watching solely for the "Is that...I think it's...yes, that's really happening!" ending, when the angry lady ghost crawls out of a most peculiar locale. And when I say "most peculiar", I mean "dannnnng, somebody watched some Cronenberg before they wrote this."

All that said, I saw Ju-on Black and Ju-on White pop up on Netflix and I was all "Yeaaaaaaah gimme gimme gimme!" I'm not sure what the point of mentioning that is, exactly. Is it that if I'm a sucker for these flicks and I say Ju-on 2 stinks, it's probably pretty damn stinky? Or is it that if I'm such a sucker for these flicks that my opinion should be completely disregarded? Or is it that if I'm such a sucker for these flicks, maybe I should just marry them? I don't know, I can't make all the decisions around here.

Ring 0 (2000)
Dudes, I had the weirdest dream! I know there's nothing more boring than listening to people talk about their dreams (I mean sleep dreams, not hopes-n-dreams...although honestly, those can be boring, too. "I just want to drive a nice sedan someday!" Oh really? GOOD FOR YOU), but hear me out.

I dreamt that someone made a prequel to Ringu that's supposed to explain everything but doesn't really explain anything! And Sadako grows up and becomes a shy theatre actress (oxymoron, I know, but it was a dream)! And the scariest part was...dun dun dunnn...the theatre people!

And then I woke up and I was, like, WHAT. I was in that weird state- not quite fully awake, not quite asleep- where I couldn't tell what was reality and what wasn't. For a moment, I thought someone actually had made a Ring 0, and it was as I described...but then I woke up a bit more and it became clear that it was all a bad dream- not a nightmare bad dream, but a bad bad dream. And not a good bad dream or a "'bad' means 'tough' like it did in the 80s" dream. Just...bad. I mean, who would make a movie like that? What a terrible idea!

Still, though- theatre people. Shudder!

Audition (2000)
YOU GUYS I finally saw Audition. After years and years of

"You haven't seen Audition? You have to see Audition!"
"I know."
"Why haven't you seen it yet?"
"I don't know, I just haven't."
"Well, you should."
"I know."
"No, really."
"I know."
"You should see Audition."
"I WILL."

I have seen it with my own four eyeballs!

Aside: Does the "four-eyes" taunt/slur/tease still apply if one wears contact lenses? Or does the "four-eyes" only refer to eyeglasses and not impaired vision? I think it's a combination- I mean, certainly, it's said to make fun of someone without perfect vision...otherwise, people just wearing sunglasses could also be called "four-eyes". What to do with the contacts wearer? They still bear an impairment, which is OBVIOUSLY worth making fun of, but- GASP- they don't bear the MARK of the impairment, and they blend seamlessly into NORMAL society. What to do? Calling them "two-eyes" doesn't quite carry the same sting, does it? And unless everyone present is even aware that the object of derision is even wearing contacts, then calling him or her "four-eyes" might actually make the accuser look crazy. What a conundrum!

Aside to the aside: I think for Halloween this year I will be One-Eye from They Call Her One-Eye. I don't know why I haven't done it yet, or why every girl doesn't do it. Or why every girl doesn't dress like One-Eye all the time! Or, as I've mentioned somewhere before, why every guy doesn't dress like Snake Plissken all the time. Hmm. I guess eyepatches are hot!

Aside to the aside to the aside: I have had way too much coffee today.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, Audition. I've seen it! I loved it! Now we can all move on with our lives.

No, really. What more can I really say about it? It wasn't quite as much of a gross-out as I was expecting- it's got quite the reputation- but that's fine with me. It's still squirm-inducing, no doubt, but I wasn't losing my lunch or what have you. I thought the way Takashi Miike played with time- the way the story unfolded and crossed back through and over itself- was genius. It was terrific, which is why everyone was telling me to see it. I'm just glad I've joined those ranks, because now I can bug everyone who hasn't seen it into seeing it.

Battle Royale (2000)
Another one crossed off my long list of I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVEN'T SEEN THIS YET films! I tell ya friends, I feel like such a brash young go-getter, it's ridiculous! I should be in that film about Wall Street called Wall Street.

Since I'm likely the last person reading this blog to have seen Battle Royale, you don't need me to tell you that it's about a class of high school students taken to a deserted island and forced to fight to the death with all manner of weapon and non-weapon, so I won't waste your time telling you all about the plot. I WILL waste your time, however, by telling you that man oh man I loved oh loved this movie. Loved. Lurved. Loaved. I don't think I've ever been quite so entertained by violence before, except maybe the first time I launched Lara Croft off a massive cliff in Tomb Raider and she hit the bottom with a sickening thud and ended up in a sickening, if pixelated, pile...mmm, nope. Battle Royale is way more entertaining. And violent! And violently entertaining!

I swear, I was twisting my handlebar moustache- my METAPHORICAL handlebar moustache, thank you very much- in glee the entire time, waiting anxiously to see what gory (and creative, it should be said) atrocities these kids would inflict on one another next. I became every non-horror fan's idea of a degenerate horror fan, always hungering for more violence, never satisfied! I didn't even recognize myself, but then I suppose Battle Royale brings that out in people. Or me, at least. It sees your true colors shining through, and they're beautiful...like a rainbow OF BLOOD.

That doesn't make any sense, but then, what does?

Okay, plenty of things make sense, whatever. The point is, I was not at all expecting to want to have Battle Royale's babies, but now I do, even despite the fact that the ending was a bit..."But how did they...? Eh, I guess a wizard did it.", meaning that either things aren't explained very well, or I'm completely daft. Since I watched the Special Edition, which includes an alternate ending meant to "shed fresh light on the events of the film", and I was still confused, then I'll cop to being completely daft. But no matter! I've still got babies to have.

I just realized that all of these movies are listed as having 2000 as the release year. Surely that means something.

Or not.

To the Mystery Machine!

Okay, baby geniuses, I need your help. Or, to be more precise, a Final Girl cyberfriend needs your help because I am unable to provide said help.

Can you name the movie from whence this GIF cometh?

I'd post the GIF here, but it's big and I'm having problems. (that's what she said)

Let's solve this!

Film Club: Cold Prey

Once upon a time, Final Girl was all about slasher films. I'd review nothing but slashers, deconstruct slashers, write poems about slashers, write slash fiction about slashers...

Okay, I never wrote poems or slash fiction about slashers, although in hindsight, that seems a big shame. My point is that I was all about slashers because I love them. I don't care that even most horror fans think slasher flicks are on the bottom of the genre totem pole! I don't care that most of them are terrible films and most of my love stems from a childhood nestled in the warm bosom of the genre's heyday! Love is totally blind, except when it's not.

I can't help myself. Along comes a film like Cold Prey (aka Fritt Vilt, 2006), and my love blossoms anew...and I don't even feel like I need to hide my ardor because Cold Prey isn't on the bottom of the totem pole. It's a damn fine horror movie that just happens to be a slasher flick. So there.

The film is full of genre tropes, and seasoned horror fans will likely roll their eyes as they check items off the list of...you know, genre tropes:

• a group of friends (two couples and the odd man out, natch) head off for a weekend of fun (in this case, snowboarding action)
  
• their cell phones can't raise a signal
  
• there's a sensible girl (the Final one, natch) and a not-so-sensible girl who makes out in the backseat with her man
  
• there's leg trauma when snowboarding action leads to snowboarding accidents for the odd man out
  
• the killer has a collection of mementos
  
• so on and so on and so on

Cold Prey, however, is all "whatever" about these tropes and turns most of them on their heads, making everything feel as fresh as a snow fall on a Norwegian mountaintop. Most of this oh-so-fresh feeling comes from the characters themselves: though they're not fleshed out with life stories and awkward narrative conversations, they're...solid, if that makes sense. In a shocking twist of events, they're not annoying! They're friends! The not-so-sensible girl is actually totally sensible! The odd man out isn't an irritating prankster! Jannicke, the Final Girl, is one for the record books! For the most part, they act like people would likely act when they realize that the abandoned hotel they're using for shelter isn't completely abandoned...because there's a killer in there.


Even the killer in Cold Prey is a delightful change of pace from the slasher norm. Sure, he's got a backstory (albeit just a tantalizing piece of one), a mask of sorts, and a weapon of choice- the pick axe- but he's not some backwoods mountaintop cannibal. He doesn't torture anyone. He doesn't try to sex up the girls. He doesn't arrange the bodies in some bizarre mise-en-scene for the Final Girl to stumble across, he dumps the bodies elsewhere. He kills people who stumble into his lair the way people kill spiders lurking in corners. It's self-preservation! And craziness, of course, but I appreciate the simplicity of it.


All of this bucking of trends is wonderful, but I wouldn't care a fig- not a single fig!- if Cold Prey wasn't successful. As it is, I find myself caring about it several figs worth. It's a beautiful film to look at, both inside and outside the abandoned hotel (which features a sly nod to The Shining's Room 237). The location is truly isolated, and the whole thing is right scary. Just enough gore, just enough everything.

Who says slashers are dead? Not me! My love remains an eternal flame- not unlike the one The Bangles sang of in "Eternal Flame". Or maybe it's completely unlike the one they sang of- I don't know the words to that song.


A wee note on the sequel: much like Halloween II (1981), Cold Prey 2 picks up where the first film left off and promptly moves the action to a hospital. It is really, really good. Surprisingly good. As good as the first film. In some regards, better. It might even be better than Halloween II. That's right, I said it! I loved it. I don't think it's gotten a Region 1 release yet (region-free DVD players are the best thing ever!), but it's definitely worth tracking down.

Film Club Coolies, y'all! Show 'em love.
----------------------------------------------
Goretical Stimulation
KL5-FILM
All Day Permanent Red
Smogo's Movie Journal
The Horror Review Hole
No Room in Hell
Soresport Movies
Scare Tactic
Full Moon Reviews
I Will Devour Your Content
Vegan Voorhees
Life Between Frames (reviewing the whole Cold Prey trilogy!)
Scarina's Scary Vault of Scariness
Man vs the Inevitable
Horror, Gore, and More
Post-Mortem Depression
Kitsch or Kill
The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense
Bloody Mary's Horror-i-flick Movie Revue

Slasher Studios

Cinema Gonzo

Not This Time, Nayland Smith

Eclipse Babies are here!

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

SO YOU CAN WATCH IT.

where the grass is green and the girls are grody

You guys, I'm not really sure what to say about Nightmare City (1980). You know how it is with those movies that don't make you feel strongly in any particular way. It's over and you can take comfort in the fact that if someone asks, "Have you seen Nightmare City?", you can respond with a resounding "Yes!" It is the small things in life, I suppose, that ultimately provide one with pleasure.

The zombies of Nightmare City are zombies of the 28 Days Later ilk, meaning that everyone calls them zombies but they're not undead. Here they're not victims of some virus but of radioactive contamination. No one gets a Silkwood shower fast enough after the exposure and because of this, the victims turn into meatball-headed killers constantly in a search for fresh blood to keep them alive. Hmm. I guess the zombies of Nightmare City are actually zombies of the vampire ilk.

4 out of 5 meatball heads chew Dentyne sugarless gum

So, the meatball heads run around wreaking deadly havoc, turning the city into a total nightmare city (SEE WHAT I DID THERE). It's all quite fun for a time, certainly. Even if you consider this a straight up zombie flick, there's novelty to these villains as the actually wield all manner of weaponry- from guns to machetes- in their search for blood. Though there's ample gore (including some really gnarly breast and eye trauma), I guess it wasn't as extreme as I was expecting, especially considering that the film comes courtesy of director Umberto Lenzi, the man behind the notorious Cannibal Ferox. Overall, Nightmare City is not even Fulci-level grody.

that's alotta meatball heads

I'd call the lengthy aerobic dance scenes gratuitous, but then, can an aerobic dance scene ever truly be gratuitous? Really, every movie should feature one. I mean, think of how much better On Golden Pond would be if Jane Fonda randomly put her aerobics skills to use at some point. It's a foolproof notion!

this is never gratuitous

Nightmare City's first half hour or so is energetic, chaotic, and had me swooning. Things slow down, as I suppose they must, and the fact that Hugo Stiglitz is an incredibly dull leading man doesn't help matters at all. Just as it truly wears out its welcome, however, there's a terrific finale atop a rollercoaster that includes a sequence I had to watch three times in a row. Then it's all over, and here we are.

Nightmare City? Why yes, I've seen that!

the gun is way more exciting than he is, trust me

hammer time

Holding true to the instrument of destruction for which it is named, the 1983 film Sledgehammer will bludgeon your psyche until all that remains is an unrecognizable pulpy mass. I'm not sure what I was expecting from this movie, purportedly the first shot-on-tape slasher flick made for the home video market...okay, maybe I expected a few things, considering it hails from David A. Prior, the writer/director of a little something called Killer Workout. I expected some laughs. I expected lots of, you know, 80s-ness. That "shot-on-tape" angle had me expecting crappy quality and the onset of a large bout of warm fuzzies (you know I loves my VHS). I got all of that, certainly, but then I got so much more, so much I had no way of anticipating. You see, you don't watch Sledgehammer, oh no. Sledgehammer HAPPENS TO YOU.

The film opens with a shot of a nice farmhouse nestled in a lush valley. After lingering on this farmhouse for 20 seconds or so, we become privy to the horrors that wait within: mom's a big ol' slut who's here with her lover, but also with her son. She finds a quick resolution to this problem by locking her son in a closet. At this point, we witness the Sledgehammer's first egregious use of slo-mo. The time it takes to zoom from here:


to here:


is 30 seconds. 30 seconds! It's obvious that the slo-mo represents the idea that being locked in a closet totally messes with the boy's mind; it takes longer for the viewer to realize, however, that it also means that Sledgehammer is messing with your mind. Sledgehammer plays by its own temporal and spatial rules, but the thing is, it actually HAS no rules. Sledgehammer does what it wants! Sledgehammer says FUCK YOU.

As mom and lover are about to get down, someone wielding a sledgehammer- go figure, right?- also gets down, but, like, in a death-making way, not a love-making way. That would just be sick!


Ten years later, a group of...of...people, I guess...okay. I know they're people, yeah, but that's the best I can figure out as to who these people are. In my notes, I wrote "Van full of___________?" They're a group of people. They're driven to the house in a van, then dropped off. I guess they're friends...? There are some couples. They're all too old for college. They unpack their bags from the van in slo-mo. They really enjoy going "Woo! Wooooooooo!" a lot. I guess it doesn't really matter who they are or why they're at this house, beyond that most horror movie of reasons: a weekend of partying. Woo! Wooooooooo! Sledgehammer plays by its own rules, period.

One of the couples, Chuck and...girl, are apparently having problems. Chuck insists that for this weekend, at least, they should forget their troubles and have a good time (Wooooooooo!). It's a good attitude to have, for it saves the writer of Sledgehammer the bother of things like "explanations" and "character development". All we need to know about Chuck is this: he is played by Ted Prior, star of Killer Workout and brother of director David. He walks around barechested most of the time. He plays the acoustic guitar whilst barechested. He looks like a walking, talking page from the International Male catalogue. I love Chuck! All we need to know about his girlfriend "girl" is this: she puts up with Chuck.

In a sequence meant to show that Chuck and girl are, I guess, forgetting their troubles, tender flute and guitar music plays as the couple walks...and walks. Then Chuck grabs a handful of girl's hair and yanks her backwards.


Then they walk some more, pointing to something offscreen. Then they walk. Then Chuck puts his beer can on girl's head, then their romantic walk is over. Oh, by the way- this all happens in slo-mo, and the scene takes TWO MINUTES.


Hold on, I just got a telegram from Sledgehammer!


After a party scene where the guys go "Woo! Wooooooooo!" and crush beer cans, there's a dinner scene. Chuck dumps mustard on girl's head, and this leads to a food fight and more "Woo! Wooooooooo!"-ing. This group continues to baffle me, particularly girl. Chuck, our hero, is an a-hole!


That night, Chuck decides they should hold a seance. He tells the story of Easy Mom, the Lover, and the Boy in the Closet, and we see...everything we saw at the beginning of the film. Again. Slo-mo included. Chuck and one of the other guys have set up some practical jokes to go along with the spirit summoning, but as you might expect, the real spirit of the boy in the closet is resurrected. I think? I don't know.



As you know by now, Sledgehammer does as Sledgehammer wants, and what Sledgehammer wants is not to explain squat. All I know for sure is that years of living in a closet didn't stunt the sledgehammer-wielding dude's growth at all, because he's 10 feet tall. No really...he barely fits in the hallway!





Is it the boy? Did he survive and grow up, like, in the closet? Where did the (admittedly creepy) mask come from? You'll never know what's going on- not ONLY because nothing is explained, but because like I said: Sledgehammer follows its own rules of time and space. The man is there, then he's gone, then he's the boy, then he's the man, then he's in two places at once. It's even suggested that the hammer itself is a ghost- a ghost sledgehammer!- I guess. At least, that's what I understood when it faded from view. There's no logic to ANY of it. Oh Sledgehammer, you so crazy!





All of this mindfuck is wrapped up in a fuckier mindfuck: the INSANE amounts of slo-mo and freeze frames used throughout, and oh honey, the score. The synth track drones and drones and drones and persists in your earholes until it becomes something akin to tinnitus. It's possible that you're not even really HEARING it anymore, but it's there, always there, knocking at the back door of your brain. There's a lethargy to the entire affair that you cannot escape. Eventually it's over, but then...it's never really over. Again, this is a movie that happens to you and once Sledgehammer is in your head, my friends, I fear it will never leave.

What's going on here? Your guess is as good as mine.

And that is nothing short of awesome! It's rare that you meet a movie that doesn't give a flying fuck about things like rules and logic and reality and what YOU think- and I mean all that not strictly in regards to filmmaking acumen, but more in regards to...I don't know, the accepted laws of SCIENCE. Sledgehammer just IS, and you can either get with that program or not. It's SO goddamn VHS, from the "Director of Videography" credit to the fonts used in those credits to the impression you get that it was largely edited in-camera to the feel...the feel of it! The sound of it! The slight blur, the white hallways, the washed-out colors, the tin can audio...Sledgehammer feels less like a horror movie and more like an ambitious home-made commercial you'd see on public access.

Chuck has had ENOUGH

If this has you on your knees crying "I need to see Sledgehammer!", then my work here is done, because you DO need to see Sledgehammer. Gather your friends, lock the doors, sit back, and let Sledgehammer pummel you into submission.

Kids, looking for a fun drinking game? Read this review aloud and drink everytime you say "sledgehammer"!

Review-O!

A few days ago, I mentioned that after watching Paura, I really didn't feel that I knew the director any more than I did before I watched the documentary about him. After watching Spine Tingler! The William Castle Story, I'd have to say the exact opposite holds true for me with regards to director/producer William Castle. Man, I feel like I know him so well now that I may actually BE William Castle!

If you're a horror fan, you know Castle's work. Even if his name doesn't immediately ring a bell, surely you've heard of more than a few films in his pantheon- movies like House on Haunted Hill, 13 Ghosts, The Tingler, Homicidal, and so on. While his movies seldom rose above the typical schlocky B-movie genre fare of the late 50s-early 60s, it was his ingenious marketing schemes that earned Castle's work a spot in the history books. Each film received a bit of a road show as Castle traveled with them, hanging out at theatres during shows to meet and greet fans. He'd hand out insurance policies as nurses stood by vigilantly lest anyone die of fright; he brought to life several gimmicks with names like "Percept-O" and "Emerg-O", the latter of which included a skeleton "emerging" from the screen and flying over the audience during House on Haunted Hill. A carnival-like atmosphere surrounded the theatre when a Castle flick came to town, and the dollars piled up.

During Spine Tingler, we learn about how Castle got started in the business and we follow his career through his A-list triumph as producer of Rosemary's Baby. Through interviews with friends, family, co-workers, fans, and admirers such as Stuart Gordon, John Landis, and John Waters (who, as my friend aptly put it, is always the most interesting person in the room), viewers get incredible insight into Castle's motivations, foibles, and personality. Film buffs, horror buffs, anyone who likes a good documentary...I can't recommend Spine Tingler highly enough. Of particular interest to Final Girl folk is the lengthy segment given to Strait-Jacket, a former (awesome) Film Club choice, and its star Joan Crawford. It's a delight, I tells ya. A delight.

Perhaps I should come up with a gimmick to really drive the point home? Maybe "Recommend-O", wherein my thumbs-up-givin' hand flies out of your computer screen into your face. Hey, whatever it takes!

exhibit A

It's a tough world out there for the indie horror filmmaker- even more so if you're giving a go at a subgenre that most fans are so sick of, they could puke their pants. How do you get noticed? How do you say "Hey, horror fans, don't puke your pants quite yet! At least wait until you see what I have to offer."? If you're director Dominic Perez, you send your P.O.V. horror flick Evil Things in some very clever packaging that includes a confidential letter purportedly from the FBI, asking for assistance in a missing persons case. The DVD, you see, is evidence and I, your humble horror blogger, will finally get a chance to get all Columbo up in the joint. Well, I get my Columbo on insofar as I get to watch the DVD. That's for the best, really, as I've recently spent some time playing L.A. Noire and if there's one thing the experience has taught me, it's that I'd make a pretty lousy detective. I'm pretty good at watching things, though, if I do say so myself...although since that sentiment goes for pretty much anyone with workable vision, I shouldn't brag.

While I was relieved that the "official" envelope from the government didn't contain a letter censuring me (for once), I can't say I was too gung ho about another new indie P.O.V. flick. Honestly, I should censure myself for that because dammit, P.O.V. is one of my favorite subgenres (there, I said it) and the best of the best tend to come from IndieLand. What can I say? My world-weariness (yes, I have that now) had me putting off and putting off Evil Things, but dudes and y'alls, the time has come for me to clean house! I'm watching all these movies I've been avoiding and/or ignoring, and so I hunkered down, quite eager to see if the witty packaging of Evil Things would distract from a craptacular movie or enhance a good one.

The setup won't surprise anyone who's seen...well, just about any horror movie (and certainly any P.O.V. horror movie): five college-age friends go away for a weekend birthday celebration, five college-age friends are now missing. One of the five, Leo, is an aspiring filmmaker and as such, totes his videocamera along, pointing it at his buddies at every opportunity whether they want him to or not. Evil Things follows the kids as they head out of Manhattan and journey upstate through a snowstorm, finally reaching their destination: a sprawling and isolated house owned by the birthday girl's aunt.

Their simple weekend of drinking and lite debauchery is thrown out of whack almost immediately upon leaving the confines of the city as some douchebag in a black van starts harassing them. Tailgating and honking lead to outright stalking: the van appears when the kids stop at a convenience store and again as they're eating at a diner along the way. The driver, however, is never caught on Leo's camera and his motives are never clear.


Once they arrive safely at the house, the kids convince themselves that the jerk in the van is long gone. But is he? Dun dun dunnnnnn! Hint: if the jerk in the van was long gone, then the FBI probably wouldn't need my help, now would they? WOULD THEY?

Again, this does all sound very familiar, doesn't it? Also again, though, don't puke your pants quite yet! Evil Things may be of a tried-and-true formula, but that certainly doesn't mean it can't be a good movie, and it boasts several strengths that many indie films can't, be they P.O.V. flicks or not. More often than not in this type of movie, the "aspiring filmmaker" character barely knows which end of the camera houses the lens. Here, however, the camera work and video quality are terrific, a particularly startling notion given the 1st-person conceit. Chances are that it won't immediately induce motion sickness- always a plus!


The acting was also a pleasant surprise, meaning that it actually leaned toward the good or, at least, the believable end of the spectrum. The dialogue likely comprises a good deal of improv and none of it was painful. Also a highlight is the fact that these actors look and act like real college kids, not Hollywood college kids. They've got spots and braces and little purple backpacks and they're going away for the weekend because-heaven forfend in a horror movie- they're friends who want to spend time together. This is a...you know..."missing persons" case so I figured that the five kids would meet bad ends, but they were likable enough that I didn't want them to.


But maybe they didn't! You'll have to check out Evil Things to see for yourself...and see it you should, when it gets its long-awaited release this summer. It's not without flaws, mind you; the sudden onset of ambient music takes some getting used to, although both the music and the ending suggest that Evil Things is more about the man in the van than it is about the missing college kids. I haven't yet decided if that's a mistake or not. More than a little time is spent on the setup- it's 40+ minutes before anything "happens". This may try your patience, but I found that instead, my curiosity as to what fate awaited the birthday girl and her friends kept climbing. The house feels truly isolated in its snowy environs, surrounded by (not always) quiet woods, and because of this Evil Things becomes quite an unsettling, creepy movie. I really enjoyed it, and I've kicked myself three times for waiting so long after its arrival in my mailbox to check it out.

Okay, I've only metaphorically kicked myself three times. Still though, I'm going to hop over to the FBI's official site and see if there have been any new developments. I'd really kick myself three times...no, four times!...if I could crack this case and I was busy watching, you know, fucking DeathBed or something instead.

Paura- Fulci Remembered: Volume One

Love him or hate him, there's no denying that even after his death, Lucio Fulci remains one of the most interesting filmmakers in the horror genre. That, of course, is putting it rather mildly. His films tend to be short on plot and long on total gross-outs and shocks. Ask anyone about, say, Zombie (aka Zombi 2) and there's a good chance you won't start talking about the story- you'll start talking about the underwater zombie vs shark fight, or the scene where a piece of wood goes through a woman's eye. You may not remember the character's name, but you'll remember the scene in City of the Living Dead where that character pukes up her own guts.

When horror fans are subjected to scrutiny for non-fans, the question that begins the barrage is often "How can you watch that stuff?" I consider myself to be a lite Fulci fan- that is, I really like some of his films, don't like others, and in the end, probably haven't seen all that much. Still, when I think about Fulci, I find myself asking "How can he make that stuff?"- not in a judgmental way, or a way meant to imply that he shouldn't be making these films, but rather that I'm fascinated by someone who would. Fulci's extreme approach to horror is doubly fascinating considering all of the work outside the genre, from westerns to comedies and everything in between. You'd think someone whose horror work is so hardcore would focus exclusively on that genre.

I don't know anything about Fulci, really, beyond his reputation as a hardass director and a misogynist. Does the latter stem from his actual beliefs and behavior offset, or is it simply fallout from the violence against women in his films? I figured that the documentary Paura: Lucio Fulci Remembered, Volume One (2009) should give me some insight and answer more than a few questions I have about this complex, enigmatic filmmaker.

Paura sets out to provide answers to only one question: What is your fondest memory of Lucio Fulci? Answers are given by men and women who fall into one of three categories: accomplices, peers, and victims. The interview clips aren't assembled into a cohesive whole as much as they're plopped onto DVD. You can choose to "play all", or simply jump to the response by a particular person. Each is introduced by a written mini-bio that lists his or her relationship to Fulci (ie, which films they collaborated on) over the same ten-second loop of Fulci-inspired (or, more to the point, Fabio Frizzi-inspired) music. I was glad I opted for the "jump around" approach, as listening to that loop for each of the near-90 interviews on the disc would have driven me mad.



I introduced some friends to City of the Living Dead the other night, and their response to scenes like the maggot storm and the aforementioned guts-puking-uppening was "Oh, those poor actors". By all accounts, Fulci's actors endured more than a few hardships during the making of his films- not just having, say, maggots whipped at their faces, but also the unpredictable temperament of the director himself. Given all this, I decided to jump in by checking out the "victims" section. I began with Catriona MacColl, who'd worked with Fulci on more than one occasion, and who I'd just seen in City of the Living Dead. Surely she'd have some insights.

And she did, as she talked about a photograph of Fulci that she feels is symbolic of the director: he sits on the memorable bridge used in The Beyond, sitting in his chair with his arms folded. According to MacColl, it's very representative of his isolation and his defiance. She hinted that she had much more to say about the man, but "you wanted my fondest memory". How frustrating!



As the subjects are answering the one question, the clips tend to be brief. The level of revelation about Fulci is quite varied: Cinzia Monreale of The Beyond gave a terrific, lengthy answer discussing the man's roughness, rudeness, and humor. They got along well and she found him amusing. On the other hand, Adrienne La Russa, titular star of Beatrice Cenci, shared a mutual enmity with the director. She told an amusing story about how she wouldn't do nudity in the film, so Fulci hired a less-than-flattering body double for her as payback. If that's her fondest memory of him...but alas, curiosity about the rest of the relationship is not to be satisfied on Paura: Volume One. Then there are responses that perhaps should have warranted the addition of a "deleted scenes" section. Barbara Bouchet's fondest memory of Don't Torture a Duckling is simply the fact that Fulci hired her, while director Bruno Mattei doesn't say much more than "I liked him".

Paura is indeed a noble undertaking, and Fulci fans will find much to love. With seven years of filming and more than 100 of the director's colleagues interviewed, the mountains of footage surely comprise an unwieldy, intimidating beast for Paura director Mike Baronas. Unfortunately, I don't that this beast was wrangled in the most effective manner. I don't feel I know Lucio Fulci much better than I did before I gave the DVD a whirl. Sure, some of the anecdotes are interesting and on more than one occasion it's said that Fulci should have been more recognized as a filmmaker, but his lack of diplomacy stifled his career. I wanted to dive into that idea. I wanted to get a real idea of this curious man. The limitations presented by the format simply don't allow for this. I imagine that Volume Two may feature everyone's "least favorite" memory of Fulci, and that will probably provide more insight into his nature. Still, the material would have been best served as a straight-up biography of the man, or perhaps a walk through his work in horror where more questions are asked and answered at once. As a companion to other, more in-depth works about Fulci, Paura is undoubtedly invaluable; as an ignoramus taking in the film on its own, however, I feel like I'm standing at a party where I don't know anyone. Like maybe they're all speaking Italian and laughing at inside jokes while I nervously sip my Riunite on ice and blankly smile. When oh when will I belong?

let's do this

By "this", I mean BRING BACK THE FILM CLUB! Yes, it's time. Because I have time! So let's take the time to watch...

Cold Prey (2006)

Can't lie, dudes and dudettes- I've seen this Norwegian slasher before. I've yet to see the sequel, though, so I'm using this as an excuse to have a "double" "feature". Cold Prey is quite good! At least I think so. It's widely available on DVD and it's on Netflix instant watch, so you can judge for yourself.

The movie: Cold Prey (aka Fritt Vilt) (2006)

The due date: Tuesday, July 19

What you do:

1. Review the movie on your site. Add a link to Final Girl in there somewhere. If you've reviewed the film before, that's fine- but you must retrofit your review with a link to FG in order to be included in my round-up.
2. Email your link to me at stacieponder at gmail dot com. Put 'film club' or some such in the subject line.
3. Bask in the warm, glowing, warming glow of Film Club Day. Easy, breezy, et cetera et cetera.

The Something That Somethings

If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked whether or not I've seen DeathBed (you know, the bed that eats), then I would have no fewer than two nickels. I mean, that title! People of a certain persuasion cannot resist a movie with such a title. Of course, by "people of a certain persuasion", I obviously mean "people with exquisite taste".

The thing is, though, in this case the title and tagline for the movie are almost enough...at least for me. Whenever I'm asked if I'm in The DeathBed Club, I have to respond with "No, I'm not...but do club members get jackets? Perhaps jackets meant for DeathBed Club members only?" In order to ensure that I'm perceived as a person with exquisite taste despite the fact that I've not yet seen DeathBed, I have to follow up my initial response with "B-but I have DeathBed! On my shelf! On a DVD with Castle Freak, which I love because, you know...who doesn't? I keep meaning to watch DeathBed, but there always seems to be something else to watch first."- and none of that is even a lie. Again, the title and tagline have always satisfied me. The film doesn't even have to exist, really, and there's always something I'd rather watch.

But I oh so desperately want to be "cool" and "with" "it"- not to mention I want to get my mitts on one of those jackets- so I finally decided to make my DeathBed and lie in it.

DeathBed opens with black and white footage of a couple getting up to some lite S&M shenanigans as Charleston-esque music plays. There's a shot of a Victrola so we know that director Danny Draven isn't simply attempting some artistic conceits- this S&M is happening in yon 1920s or 30s. The shenanigans quickly escalate to murdernanigans as the girl is strangled to death with a necktie.

black and white Victrola: not just art

In yon modern times, a young couple moves into a loft apartment and all seems well enough. However, anyone who's seen a horror movie knows that when characters move into a new house or apartment, bad things will happen. I mean, every time, right? Has anyone ever moved into a new place in a horror film and not had, you know, corpses pop up in the pool (because only the headstones were moved) or the house telling the new tenants to GET OUT or their child taken to some weird netherworld or they discover that a man's heart is stonier or whatever? NO. Something always happens, and it's always negative! So, as soon as landlord Joe Estevez (I love you Joe Estevez, you Kmart Martin Sheen, you) was all "Garsh, I don't know what's behind that locked door!", I knew what was behind it. It was the DeathBed, waiting. Patiently. Biding its time, as all evil beds do.

So our young couple- let's call them "the guy" and "the girl"- are enjoying a bit of fornication in their new apartment...or, should I say, the guy is enjoying it. The girl seems decidedly uncomfortable, complaining that it hurts. The guy is sympathetic and thinks she might enjoy it more if she would just get on top for once, as he's asked so many times. At this point, I feel that I know an awful lot about their sex lives.

When she hears squeaking bedsprings from beyond The Locked Door, the girl decides to find out what's what. Et cetera et cetera, it's the DeathBed.

it waits

She hauls it out, cleans it up, and promptly becomes the sort of girl who gets on top- if you know what I mean- much to the delight of her fella.

now she's one of THOSE girls

Blah blah blah, why hasn't the bed done any eating in this movie? This bed does not eat! "Man, they should have called this movie SexBed," I said to no one in particular. Then the light hit me: is this the wrong DeathBed? Can there actually be more than one? Have I had on my shelf all this time not DeathBed: The Bed That Eats, but instead DeathBed: The Bed That Bores? When it was all over and, you know, the girl learns all about the murderous history of the bed and goes crazy, it was apparently so. This bed is not a murderer. It's simply a soft, cushy place where murder happens! In the end, the only thing this bed ate was 80 minutes of my time.

My friends, disappointment does not even begin to describe what I was feeling. This was not the eating DeathBed of '77, no! This is The Bed That Lames (that doesn't make sense, but go with it) from 2002. This means I still haven't seen The Bed That Eats! STILL! And now when someone asks, I can't even claim to have a copy on my shelf waiting for me! At this rate, I'm never going to get one of those jackets.

don't ask

Castle Freak (1995) doesn't disappoint, though...but then, how could it? It's pure Stuart Gordon perverto magic, chock full of gore and sex (often combined) and Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton. A troubled American family inherits a castle in the Italian countryside...but little do they know that the castle comes complete with Giorgio, its very own freak chained up in the cellar. Like all good gorked out, chained up, and abused cellar dwellars, Giorgio goes completely nutso once he breaks free, chewing and screwing- or at least attempting to- his way through anyone around.

Giorgio: total yuck mouth

If it sounds like Hell Night, that's because...umm...it's reminiscent of Hell Night. Instead of Hell Night's horny teens, though, Castle Freak features a married couple dealing with guilt and alcoholism; instead of Linda Blair in a flouncy top, we get an Italian prostitute in a bikini top. Either way works for me, as I'm a sucker for weirdo locked away in the attic or cellar flicks. Maybe if DeathBed had featured such a weirdo relaxing on the DeathBed I would have enjoyed it more. Alas, it wasn't so.

"Castle Freak, please put on some clothes."

Say, does one get some sort of jacket or commemorative plate if one is a member of The Castle Freak Club? Because my dues for that shit are all paid up.

dewds

For reals! I'm imminently changing the location of Stately Final Girl Manor, and right now I'm simply trying to prevent this from happening to me:


And I don't mean that I'm trying to prevent turning into Michael Ironside, the Concentrating Very Hard Edition.

When I come out the other side of this chaos- that is, should I come out the other side of this chaos, cabeza intact- you will be the first ones I tell! The Film Club will begin again, and we'll be back to the way we used to be, only even better. Probably.

Semper fi(nal girl)!

awesome movie poster friday - the TRIBUTE edition!

Horror fans with eyeballs know that the movie poster business has been in the toilet for quite some time. Floating heads and overwrought Photoshop atrocities and blandness have become the norm because let's face it: posters simply don't play as large a role in getting butts in theaters as they used to. Mind you, I don't necessarily think that folks are sitting around spending time and money while saying "Bah! We need not make this poster enticing. Crap something out!"...although sometimes the finished product indicates just that. However, everything is fleeting now, and posters are here today, forgotten later today.

Or maybe I'm just old and I think that everything used to be better Way Back When. Regardless, citizens both pro and amateur with a keen eye for design and the ability to wield computers like...magic computers have taken matters into their own hands and designed horror movie tribute posters with a more artistic bent than the current crop at the AMC 842569. Simplicity...she is powerful, yes? Visit their websites for more awesomeness.

Sarah E. Kushner

Edgar Ascensao

Tom Whalen

Mark Welser

SamRAW08

Ollie Boyd

Sam Markiewicz