a gallery of lurid lit

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

A TOUCH OF CLAM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

totally obsessed

Anyone who's been hanging out at the Final Girl Facebook page knows that I've been totally obsessed with Friday the 13th Part V for a while now. I think it started when I named Ethel Hubbard Victim of the "Week"- suddenly I was looking at the most-reviled Friday film with nothing but love in my eyes! It's only gotten worse since I revisited the film for the Friday the 13th Death Count tumblr (by the way, victims from A New Beginning began yesterday!) and I can't help myself, I've got Part V Fever...and I don't think I care!

And so, I just want to take this moment to talk about two things in this movie, aka my new best friend. First, it's so awesome that Roy carries a photo of himself in his wallet.

Second...who took this picture?

Was it some intrepid AP photographer we never met? Was it the vanishing Paul from Part 2? No wait, that's not possible...it must have been someone from midway through Part 3 to the end of Part 4. Mind, Parts 2-4 take place in one weekend, right? It's so delightfully confusing. Such a rich mythology these movies have!

Hold the phone...

...you know, I watch these videos and I wonder why Slumber Party Massacre 2 isn't my favorite movie ever. Heidi Kozak, Juliette Cummins, and Crystal Bernard in some Designer Impostor version of The Bangles? I should have this movie on a loop forever, even if the killer is still the worst.

Two sentences and a verdict!

Gather 'round, children, and live vicariously through this exciting update about my movie-watching habits: I've watched a shit ton of stuff lately! You see, once "internet" "streaming" became a viable option, I largely did away with buying and renting DVDs. I even cancelled my Netflix DVD subscription. I mean, Digital Video Discs are so last century, right? I am far too hip and modern to be tied to physical media that forces me to wait- sometimes up to two days!- to watch something. I wanna watch and I wanna watch now. 

Months and months later, I hardly stream any movies at all. TV shows, sure. I can easily "just one more episode" a night away, and I've indulged in more than a few binge-watches. Movies, though, are a different story altogether. My instant watch queue has a couple hundred films in it, but I'll be damned if I ever want to partake in any of them. As sad as it may sound (and it may sound sad sad sad), there have been plenty of times I've gone to watch something, ended up scrolling through my list for 15 minutes, and turned it off altogether. It seems that whenever I search for something specific, it's unavailable to stream. I'm left with stuff that is interesting enough to "add to list", but I'm rarely in the mood for any of it.

So...while I have not given up completely on streaming, I have recently reunited with physical media and golly gee, it feels good! Netflix actually has everything I search for on DVD, it's great. And man, the tactile just works for me. My brain probably releases endorphins or something when I put a disc in the player- you know, something something science. The act is somehow tied to fond memories of video stores and "movie night"s. The ways I consumed film and music as a yoot left such an indelible mark on me that I generally find experiences lessened by instant gratification. I certainly don't need to, like, become intimate with every song or movie I encounter, but without the tactile I find it all but impossible. Those hours spent reading VHS and DVD boxes or poring over the liner notes were nearly as essential to my enjoyment as the films and albums themselves. Sure, I can dig a record without knowing every little thing about it. If I just have ones and zeroes to hold onto, though, it feels too ephemeral for my liking. A digital download of Like a Prayer ain't gonna smell like patchouli, you know?

We all consume things differently, and no two relationships to a piece of art are the same. This is profound, I know! If I had a headache and you were all "Here, Stacie, have an aspirin" and I was like "No thanks, leeches work for me!" well, then maybe that would be a good opportunity to tell me to get with The Times. But this is not about headaches and/or leeches. I am just saying that I'm old and this works for me, and realizing what works for me has led to my rediscovering and re-falling-in-lovening with movies. You kids keep your instant watch, I'll just sit here, suckin' on a Werther's Original, waiting for a DVD to arrive in the mail.

Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist (2005, Paul Schrader)

Father Merrin vs Pazuzu, round one! FIGHT!

Two sentences: I knew this would be no Exorcist, but I gave it a fair shot- there's a lot of story to mine, after all, and I do love a possession flick. It started promising, but quickly devolved into laughable nonsense riddled with some of the worst CGI I've ever seen.

The verdict: It shouldn't take the power of Christ to compel you to stay the hell away from this piece of garbage.

Contracted (2013, Eric England)

A young woman is date raped at a party and soon discovers that she's caught something far worse than yer run o' the mill STD.

Two sentences: Fantastic practical FX and a solid lead performance by Najarra Townsend are the highlights of a disappointing film filled with unlikable characters and plot contrivances. Contracted is a fucking great idea hampered by mediocre writing and so-so execution.

The verdict:  Boy, it's way tougher to watch a film that coulda been so damned beautiful than one that's outright bad. I really wanted to love this! Still might be worth checking out, though, particularly for fans of body horror.

Amityville 1992: It's About Time (1992, Tony Randel)

A clock from the original Amityville house ends up in a house in California and look the California house kind of resembles the original Amityville house isn't that weird and all kinds of stuff happens!

Two sentences: There is no universe where this movie makes any sense: not our universe, not a parallel universe nor a perpendicular one. But who needs sense when a demonic clock wreaks havoc?

The verdict: This movie is a wackadoo delight. Like I said, it makes not a single lick of sense, but it is totally enjoyable, off-the-wall crazy schlock. Well, I could have done without the insanely sweaty sex scene, but still. It's surprisingly gory at times, there's a toddler with a mullet, and there's a scene where a girl gets fingerbanged by her own reflection. WHAT THE WHAT.

Amityville: A New Generation (1993, John Murlowski)

A mirror from the original Amityville house ends up in a loft apartment in Los Angeles and look the original Amityville house appears in the mirror isn't that weird and all kinds of stuff happens!

Two sentences: Ah, the 90s- those halcyon days where women wore dark lipstick, bowler hats, and hadn't yet discovered the tweezed eyebrow. Richard Roundtree, David Naughton, Terry O'Quinn...what are you doing here?

The verdict: Okay, I'm not gonna say I didn't enjoy this because I so did. It is a firm slice of 90s time capsule cheesecake (whatever that means) and of course it doesn't make sense. But all the familiar faces (also including Barbara Howard of Friday the 13th Part IV, holla) help transform crap into craptacular!

Sinister (2012, Scott Derrickson)

From imdb: "A true-crime writer finds a cache of 8mm home movies films that suggest the murder he is currently researching is the work of a serial killer whose career dates back to the 1960s."

Two sentences: What can I say, I'm most afraid of things that go bump in the night and Sinister is full of 'em. It threatened to go off the rails into cheesetown but it stayed the course and finished as one of the best new horror films I've seen in quite a while.

The verdict: I fucking loved this movie because I am totally afraid of noises in the dark, full stop. It's beautifully shot and the power of the soundtrack/sound design cannot be overstated. Sure, it was silly that Ethan Hawke never bothered to turn on any lights...but man, I'm so glad he didn't. I was surprised by how much I dug this. Wicked highly recommended!

Godspeed, Mr. Sleaze

Prolific producer Harry H. Novak bought a ticket to the Great Grindhouse in the Sky earlier this week, leaving behind a legacy of lurid flicks. From nudie cuties to hardcore smut to trashy horror flicks, throughout the 60s and 70s, Novak had a hand in virtually every genre that ends in "-ploitation".

Over the span of 1976-77 alone, Novak gave the world Rattlers, cult classic Rituals, and one of my personal favorites, The Child. They may not be good movies, but that matters very little when they're so goddamn entertaining. So raise a glass to The Sultan of Sleaze...they just don't make 'em like Harry Novak anymore.

Boy oh BOOOOYYYY!

I admit, the recently-announced Phantasm: Ravager (that's Phantasm V to you!) elicited no more than a shrug and an "I probably won't see that." from me. The original film scared the absolute crap out of me when I was a yoot and therefore occupies a sphere-shaped place in my heart forever. My only other foray into Sequelville was the dreadful Part IV; after that, I decided to leave well enough alone and keep my interactions restricted to one film and one film only.

However, the trailer for Ravager is making the rounds today and damn, if it doesn't look good! Sure, teasers are designed to look good, and I'll bet a skilled editor could make something enticing composed of footage from the the biggest piece of shit movies (yes, perhaps even for The Cavern). This trailer has me interested, by gum, and the details available at Entertainment Weekly are adding fuel to my fiery movie loins (I don't know what that means). Original cast members Reggie Bannister, Michael Baldwin, and Angus Scrimm have returned, as has series creator Don Coscarelli, who says "This film is a real turning point in the series. There’s real closure for the core characters that I hope fans will respond to.” Closure! I like it!

Oh, and there's “an extended sequence on the Tall Man’s home world.” Okay, fuck yeah, sign me up. I can't resist a planet full of hooded weirdo space dwarves!

Here's the trailer. For more info, check out Entertainment Weekly or probably every other website on The Internet.

props

Quick, name a Final Girl!

Who came to mind? Laurie Strode, I bet. Nancy Thompson. Sally Hardesty? Maybe Sidney Prescott. Ginny Field, I hope...or perhaps you simply blurted out "This blog!" I'm willing to bet, however, that you didn't name Chris Higgins, the Final Girl from Friday the 13th Part 3D, did you. DID YOU. DIIIIIID YOOOOOU. Well, friends, I think we need to change that. It's time to give Chris Higgins her props!

I realize it's too much to hope that Chris is added to the FG pantheon; there's something about her character that's oddly unlikable for a "heroine", isn't there? I'm not sure if that's owed to Dana Kimmell's performance or if Chris is underwritten (boy, that would be so shocking in a slasher movie), charmless, and cold or what- not that a character has to be charming and/or warm for me to root for him or her, but you know what I mean. She lacks whatever it is that lets the audience connect to her. She must, otherwise she'd forever be the #1 Final Girl because let's face it:

Chris Higgins gets shit done.

Jason Voorhees has pummeled and squeezed and chopped all her friends to pieces and everything has gone to hell, but Chris keeps a level enough head to really fight back. Though terrorized, she doesn't just run away and hope against hope that she'll be rescued. Let's take a look at what she do do to rescue herself. Mind you- this is the second time she's faced Jason. By the time Part III rolls around, she's already survived an encounter with him. She's such a badass!

• she knocks over a giant bookcase onto Jason
• she pulls a knife out of her dead friend and slashes at Jason, driving him backwards down a hallway, then stabs him with it
• she smashes a second storey window and jumps out
• she clocks Jason with a log
• she hops in a van and drives away (only to be foiled by an empty gas tank and an unstable bridge)
• when Jason reaches in a van window and strangles her, she rolls it up on his arms and escapes out the other door
• she dangles off a barn roof beam, hiding, then drops onto Jason when he walks underneath her
• she clocks him with a shovel, ties a rope around his neck, and throws him out of the fucking barn loft door
• she buries an axe in Jason's head

Damn! That is some Nancy Thompson boobytrap-level shit all done on the fly, no planning or forethought. You guys, Chris Higgins might be the best. Let's remember that forever and always from now on!

THE GRUDGE is getting a reboot

The 2004 film is getting a reboot. 2004. 2004. 2004. A REBOOT.

some things

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

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

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

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

The Seventh Victim (1943)

Finally got around to watching The Seventh Victim (1943) and man, it's terrific. Maybe you knew that, as it's generally regarded as one of the best horror films of all time. That's me, always late to the party! Well, hey, at least I still show up. Now point me to the snack table, and on the way we can talk about this super boss Val Lewton production.

• The Seventh Victim boasts three of my very favorite themes in both cinema and life: Satanism, urban isolation, and ennui!
• Even if you're some kind of freak who thinks this movie stinks, you cannot deny the effect it's had on the genre: its influence is obvious in horror classics Psycho and Rosemary's Baby.
• Speaking of an influence on Psycho, the shower scene in this film is full of dread and menace like nobody's business. NOBODY'S I SAY
• There are some gay undertones in the Frances/Jacqueline relationship, no? It certainly seemed like it could be read that way. Then again, I think most things could be read that way, so.
• Speaking of Jacqueline, let's talk about her white hot, outré Cleopatra wig! It's perhaps the most startling thing in the movie. I looked up actress Jean Brooks because once you see that wig, why wouldn't you? The results were not as I'd hoped, to put it mildly: a few years of floundering outside the studio system until an untimely death of malnutrition caused by alcoholism. I was reminded of Gail Russell, whose equally sad tale I discovered after watching the superior ghost story The Uninvited (1944). It's always shocking when "I wonder if _______ is still around?" and some internetting deliver a depressing life story that's in complete contrast to the perceived glamour of Hollywood's golden era.
• I understand there were a few scenes scrapped during production, and I'd really like to see 'em because this shit wraps up in about ten seconds, and some ideas come out of left field in the final moments.
• Man, what a delightful downer of an ending!

I think perhaps the greatest lesson in all of this is that you really can't go wrong with a Val Lewton horror production. Also, that I love snacks...but unless this is your first time here, this is not surprising.

The Final Frame

This is the final frame of what horror movie?

Nope, still the worst

I know that y'all know that I love The Haunting (1963). I mean, I've said it so many times that even I'm sick of hearing it. It's like, man, we get it, if you could marry The Haunting you would, now let's all move on.

I also know that y'all also know that I loathe the 1999 remake about as much as I adore the original. Why, I have such a vendetta against Jan de Bont's The Haunting, you'd think that it chews its gum too loudly or it murdered my family. Why, I was just talking about it fairly recently!

Last night, however, I had a thought: what if I'm being too hard on it? Is it really so bad, or am I just holding on to a 15-year grudge for no reason? Is there hope that The Haunting '99 and I could ever come to some sort of a ceasefire? To find out the answer to all of these questions, I did something I never imagined that I'd do: I watched it again. I watched it again and tried to keep an open mind, tried not to compare it to the 1963 masterpiece, tried to treat it as its own thing, tried to enjoy it.

I tried.

And guess what? I failed because this movie is so terrible! I found myself completely unable to stop comparing it to the original (and to the book both films are based on, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House) because it's such a...such a...twisted perversion of that film that I can't ignore all of the differences, the oh so wrongness of it. This movie is obscene like that defiled statue in The Exorcist. It's the worst stereotype of an American: it's fat, loud, and stupid. It's an abomination! I've said it before and I'll say it again, because after watching The Haunting again, these sentiments are forever sealed in my heart place: If it were up to me, though, every copy of it would be placed in a big pile, and then the pile would be burned down, and then the ground would be sown with salt.

All that said, the film is not without its highlights. Let us peruse them!

1. Lili Taylor, because Lili Taylor.

2. Virginia Madsen! I'd totally forgotten she makes an appearance, but isn't she just the best? (yes)

3. This guy on the left, who has one word of dialogue.

4. Luke gets fucking decapitated in front of her, and Eleanor responds by calmly saying "Oh no."

5. Goodness gracious but Catherine Zeta-Jones is so pretty.

6. Eleanor's morphing teeth

7. Eleanor's hair vagina

That's it! Those are the highlights. Well, okay, so maybe Eleanor calling Hugh Crain "grandpa" could be a highlight but my god that is just so so so despicable, I can't. I can't.

When it comes to movies, music, any of that stuff, I tend to have a "live and let die" attitude. Everyone likes different things! The heart wants what the heart wants! There's no accounting for taste! You do you, girl! But for fuck's sake, if you think this is a good movie or- Charles Nelson Reilly forfend- you think The Haunting '99 is better than The Haunting '63...you really need to see your doctor because there is absolutely something wrong with you. It could be a blood clot, demonic possession, or worse and I worry about you, get it checked out.

awesome movie poster friday - the JAMIE LEE CURTIS edition!

Sometimes I take Jamie Lee Curtis for granted. It's just not raging all the time, you know? If I see Adrienne Barbeau's name in a film's credits, you can consider my shit lost. Same with Charles Napier and Joan Collins and anyone from the cast of Dallas or Melrose Place. But if JLC comes up, my shit remains totally under control. Maybe it's because I've seen everything in her horror oeuvre countless times, or maybe it's because she's too familiar now that I know so much about her regularity issues. Maybe it's because she's made so many movies I'll simply never see (I mean, Christmas with the Kranks combines like ten things I hate, and that level of negativity can only be partially mitigated by the presence of Ms. Curtis and M. Emmet Walsh).

I was recently reminded, however, that my love for her is an eternal flame burning so bright that even The Bangles are all "Tone it down, Stacie". This is thanks to the JLC documentary on the recent 35th Anniversary Blu Ray edition of Halloween. I know...I know! You could have a very sizable movie library consisting solely of the various releases of that GD movie. Every five years- at least!- there's a new one with fancier packaging or cruddier packaging, more special features or no special features, better picture quality or a plush Lester (I WISH), and so on. This 35th Anniversary edition has to be it, though, the version to end all versions. It has to be. It's chock full of everything (commentaries, the television edit, blah blah blah), so what else is there?

Best of all- and what put me back on the Jamie train- is "The Night She Came Home", an hour-long documentary chronicling Curtis's first and only convention appearance, at HorrorHound 2012. The feature, shot by Curtis's sister Kelly, basically just follows the star around as she arrives and works at the show, posing for photos, signing stuff, and talking with fans. An inconsequential event for those of us relegated to watching it all unfold on a TV screen, perhaps, but, as corny as it may sound, there's a lot of love going on throughout. It made my coal black horror fan heart beat at least one time! And by the end I remembered that despite the dilution of the title "Scream Queen" in recent years, she really is the Super Ultra #1 Scream Queen For Real. How could I ever take her for granted? ILU JLC!

What better way to celebrate than with an Awesome Movie Poster Friday? None. There is no better way. Except pizza.

Halloween

Halloween II

Halloween H20

No, no Halloween: Resurrection posters because fuck Halloween: Resurrection!

Terror Train

Prom Night (what the heck, that Japanese one looks like a car ad)

The Fog (ow, my bursitis is flaring up no wait, that's just my love of The Fog)

Road Games

Mother's Boys (have you seen this? It is some Lifetime Movie-level thriller shit and I love it)