So there you have it- some of my favorite horror films. I can't really put them in order, you know? Let's see what we've got.
Candyman
Don't Look Now
The Blair Witch Project
Session 9
The Haunting
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
The Ring
What else would I add to that list? Hmm.
Halloween
Friday the 13th
Friday the 13th Part 2
The Brood
I've talked about those. What else makes the list but I haven't yet reviewed? Hmm.
The Thing
Creepshow
Event Horizon
Romero's zombie flicks (I can't pick just one!)
and the film I was going to watch last night and I will write about at some point but it still unsettles me so much that I put off watching it last night until it was too late:
The Exorcist
I feel that as someone who has her own horror site, I should be able to name my top 5 favorite horror flicks right off the bat, but it's hard. Umm, I'll try though.
Halloween
The Haunting
Friday the 13th
The Exorcist
Bah! I leave #5 open because it changes all the time. Suddenly this feels like my diary or something. Feel free to list your top 5 in the comments...I like to know what other people dig.
Oct 14, 2006
THE RING
Man, do I feel like a wimp! I had a mere two movies left to watch. Two! I chose The Ring because the other one...well, the idea of watching it all alone in the middle of the night in a dark, quiet house freaked me out. Had I made it through The Ring, I would've given it a shot for your sakes, but as it is, I made it to the scene where Naomi Watts falls down the well and then I passed out like a sorority girl after a night of butterscotch schnapps. I woke up disoriented and bleary-eyed, but a single thought managed to break through the haze: "Review...must write...review..."- I don't know whether to simply shake my head in disgust, or punch myself in the face in wicked disgust. Regardless, the final film on my list will just have to wait.
Anyone who doesn't know the story of The Ring (2002) has surely been living in a well themselves for some years now, but for the record, the premise is simple: Watch this creepy videotape and seven days later you will die.
Undoubtedly, the J-horror remakes and "dead girl with long black hair" flicks have been done to death, to the point where filmmakers (Asian or American) would have to come up with something pretty revelatory to get me to feel like I hadn't been there before. For me, however, The Ring came first. It was a revelation.
Because this marathon was all about some of my favorite horror movies, I get to tell you boring stories about them and you can't do anything about it. Ha! Anyway, I saw The Ring the first time in a theatre in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania during a weekend getaway. The theatre was packed, and I figured I was in for an experience something akin to the first time I saw Scream, which was basically a riot- people yelling and talking at the screen. For Scream it was the perfect atmosphere, but I didn't think it would work for The Ring. I was completely shocked, however, the the theatre fell silent during the first 15 minutes of the film and stayed quiet for the duration. That never happens with these kids today! I was all ready to shake my fists at them and everything, but the movie held the entire audience in thrall. It was, in a word, bitchin'.
Much later that night in the hotel, after everyone had fallen asleep, I woke up and hit the bathroom. Not wanting to wake anyone, I left the lights off. When I got back to bed, I lay there awake for quite some time, terrified. I swear to you, placing my right hand on a copy of Son of Mad Libs, that I couldn't and wouldn't open my eyes because I was convinced that Samara was in the room, an inch from my face, staring at me. I was absolutely petrified. Of course it's completely ridiculous in retrospect, pretty much to the point of embarassment. I give you all total permission to laugh at me, but my god...that feeling is exactly why I watch horror movies. It had been a long, long time since I'd had that severe a reaction to a horror movie- it's a rare thing, excruciating and somehow pleasurable all at the same time. Sort of like watching Walker, Texas Ranger. You're never sure if you're going to make it out the other side of the experience alive.
The film loses impact with each viewing, and while I do still find it supremely creepy, Samara no longer keeps me awake at night...last night (or earlier this morning, if you want to be a technical about it. Why do you always have to be such a stickler for such things?) is evidence of that. There's still so many aspects of this movie that I love, however, and it remains a pleasure to watch.
-I love the piecing-together-the-puzzle angle. It makes me feel like Jessica Fletcher, but in a good way, unlike my bursitis.
-I love that Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts) isn't really a good mom. She's selfish, a tad neglectful, and...human. She loves her son, but she doesn't really get the whole mom thing right. I've read that this character flaw is exactly why Jennifer Connolly (Requiem for a Dream) turned down the role, for which I stick my middle finger up at Jennifer Connolly.
-I love the timeline/deadline method of storytelling. Some folks gripe that it lessens the impact of events because you know nothing's really gonna happen for seven days. I think it heightens the drama...the urgency builds as the clock counts down and Rachel tries to figure shit out.
-I love the way the film looks, the blue tones and the pervasive rain. I do so like it when filmmakers pay attention to the work as a whole and not just the money shots.
-I love how unsettling the film can be at times. Anyone who's undisturbed by the horse sequence is...I don't know, a robot or something.
-I love that the film turns "ghost story" conventions inside out. Samara cannot be appeased; she won't disappear when you put her soul to rest. She has no soul. She's pure evil, seeking only to hurt others. Setting her free does just that- she's out and she hates you.
-I love Noah's (Martin Henderson) death sequence. The first time I saw Samara coming out of the TV, it was like having the floor pulled out from under me.
-I love Naomi Watts
I know the movie has a fair number of detractors, or people for whom it simply had no impact. They're crazy, of course, but that's ok. That's their trip. For me, whenever I see a horror movie for the first time, I try my best not to be cynical or jaded. Maybe I'm a simpleton, I don't know...but I try very hard to be a clean slate, to get in the mindset of my ten-year-old self, where anything and everything can be scary, where that little noise I might have heard might just be something waiting to get me. In other words, I try to get sucked in to the moment as much as possible, to let the movie sort of...take over. Sometimes the film still fails miserably and there's nothing you can salvage. But sometimes, every once in a while, a movie will affect me like The Ring- and that...that's just sort of magic, isn't it? A little? If you're not willing to have an innocence about these films, to allow yourself to have the intended reaction, to allow yourself to be scared by them, then really...what else is there? There's really no joy in watching people get killed, even if it's all a put-on. It's the tightening of the gut and the feeling that's the thing.
Anyone who doesn't know the story of The Ring (2002) has surely been living in a well themselves for some years now, but for the record, the premise is simple: Watch this creepy videotape and seven days later you will die.Undoubtedly, the J-horror remakes and "dead girl with long black hair" flicks have been done to death, to the point where filmmakers (Asian or American) would have to come up with something pretty revelatory to get me to feel like I hadn't been there before. For me, however, The Ring came first. It was a revelation.
Because this marathon was all about some of my favorite horror movies, I get to tell you boring stories about them and you can't do anything about it. Ha! Anyway, I saw The Ring the first time in a theatre in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania during a weekend getaway. The theatre was packed, and I figured I was in for an experience something akin to the first time I saw Scream, which was basically a riot- people yelling and talking at the screen. For Scream it was the perfect atmosphere, but I didn't think it would work for The Ring. I was completely shocked, however, the the theatre fell silent during the first 15 minutes of the film and stayed quiet for the duration. That never happens with these kids today! I was all ready to shake my fists at them and everything, but the movie held the entire audience in thrall. It was, in a word, bitchin'.
Much later that night in the hotel, after everyone had fallen asleep, I woke up and hit the bathroom. Not wanting to wake anyone, I left the lights off. When I got back to bed, I lay there awake for quite some time, terrified. I swear to you, placing my right hand on a copy of Son of Mad Libs, that I couldn't and wouldn't open my eyes because I was convinced that Samara was in the room, an inch from my face, staring at me. I was absolutely petrified. Of course it's completely ridiculous in retrospect, pretty much to the point of embarassment. I give you all total permission to laugh at me, but my god...that feeling is exactly why I watch horror movies. It had been a long, long time since I'd had that severe a reaction to a horror movie- it's a rare thing, excruciating and somehow pleasurable all at the same time. Sort of like watching Walker, Texas Ranger. You're never sure if you're going to make it out the other side of the experience alive.
The film loses impact with each viewing, and while I do still find it supremely creepy, Samara no longer keeps me awake at night...last night (or earlier this morning, if you want to be a technical about it. Why do you always have to be such a stickler for such things?) is evidence of that. There's still so many aspects of this movie that I love, however, and it remains a pleasure to watch.
-I love the piecing-together-the-puzzle angle. It makes me feel like Jessica Fletcher, but in a good way, unlike my bursitis.
-I love that Rachel Keller (Naomi Watts) isn't really a good mom. She's selfish, a tad neglectful, and...human. She loves her son, but she doesn't really get the whole mom thing right. I've read that this character flaw is exactly why Jennifer Connolly (Requiem for a Dream) turned down the role, for which I stick my middle finger up at Jennifer Connolly.
-I love the timeline/deadline method of storytelling. Some folks gripe that it lessens the impact of events because you know nothing's really gonna happen for seven days. I think it heightens the drama...the urgency builds as the clock counts down and Rachel tries to figure shit out.
-I love the way the film looks, the blue tones and the pervasive rain. I do so like it when filmmakers pay attention to the work as a whole and not just the money shots.
-I love how unsettling the film can be at times. Anyone who's undisturbed by the horse sequence is...I don't know, a robot or something.
-I love that the film turns "ghost story" conventions inside out. Samara cannot be appeased; she won't disappear when you put her soul to rest. She has no soul. She's pure evil, seeking only to hurt others. Setting her free does just that- she's out and she hates you.
-I love Noah's (Martin Henderson) death sequence. The first time I saw Samara coming out of the TV, it was like having the floor pulled out from under me.
-I love Naomi Watts
I know the movie has a fair number of detractors, or people for whom it simply had no impact. They're crazy, of course, but that's ok. That's their trip. For me, whenever I see a horror movie for the first time, I try my best not to be cynical or jaded. Maybe I'm a simpleton, I don't know...but I try very hard to be a clean slate, to get in the mindset of my ten-year-old self, where anything and everything can be scary, where that little noise I might have heard might just be something waiting to get me. In other words, I try to get sucked in to the moment as much as possible, to let the movie sort of...take over. Sometimes the film still fails miserably and there's nothing you can salvage. But sometimes, every once in a while, a movie will affect me like The Ring- and that...that's just sort of magic, isn't it? A little? If you're not willing to have an innocence about these films, to allow yourself to have the intended reaction, to allow yourself to be scared by them, then really...what else is there? There's really no joy in watching people get killed, even if it's all a put-on. It's the tightening of the gut and the feeling that's the thing.
THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
For all its repugnance (and it is a repugnant film, really, when you come right down to it)- or rather, maybe because of it- there's no denying that the raw power of Tobe Hooper's 1974 film The Texas Chain Saw Massacre makes it one of the best horror movies ever produced, if not the best.Five teens cruising around Texas byways on one fateful summer afternoon fall victim to a family of maniacs.
Yeah, that's about it.
Watching TCM tonight, I was surprised to see how much it had in common thematically with another film I watched earlier, Don't Look Now. While the two movies couldn't be more opposite in execution, both deal heavily with fate and the randomness of the universe- everyone's got their role to play in this game, and life is ultimately arbitrary and virtually meaningless in the face of the grand scheme of things. Madmen roam the earth, and there's not a damn thing you can do to avoid them if they've got your number.
Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) and his crazy grave-robbing, hitchhiking brother (Edwin Neal) come from a long line of slaughterhouse workers. For whatever reason, human life has become no more valuable to the clan than cattle: everyone is just meat. It's a terrifying concept, being de-humanized in the eyes of anyone, never mind in the eyes of a chainsaw-wielding maniac. Hooper emphasizes this by dispatching Kirk (William Vail), Pam (Teri McMinn), and Jerry (Allen Danziger) not only in rapid-fire succession, but also each in the same fashion. Each character wanders into the farmhouse and is quickly and brutally slaughtered by Leatherface. He doesn't toy with them, he doesn't taunt them...he clubs them and prepares them for a meal. It's simply business, and there's no room for bargaining.
I say the kids are "brutally" slaughtered, and it's absolutely true- and yet Hooper shows us far, far less than we think he does. Watch carefully- there's virtually zero explicit violence or gore in this film. The fact that it's wheedled itself into everyone's brains as one of the most explicit horror flicks simply draws attention to Tobe Hooper's deft filmmaking.
This is exactly where the Texas remake goes wrong- well, one of the places, anyway. How the newer film manages to be more explicit and more sanitary simultaneously baffles me. There seems to be a need to make everything bigger in the remake- more gore, more outrageous characters...what's lacking, though, is an understanding that it's precisely the smallness of the first film that makes it so terrifying. The clan doesn't live in fucking Stately Leatherface Manor, they live in a simple, small, ordinary white farmhouse. The fact that such an innocuous little house can hold such horrors within chills me to the core, because isn't that always the way it is? The serial killer lives next door in a house that looks just like yours. Here, Leatherface and Co. don't reside far removed from society- they're right there where Sally (Marilyn Burns) and Franklin (Paul Partain) hung out as kids, right on the other side of the swimming hole. Leatherface is a monster, but he's also terrifyingly real.
There are so many quiet, still, and absolutely horrifying shots and sequences in TCM that it's impossible to list them all. The speed with which Leatherface kills his victims, the room full of feathers and bones, the hitchhiker carving up his own palm, the slamming metal door of Leatherface's butcher room, the extreme close-ups of boiling sunspots and Sally's bloodshot, panicked eyes, Pam's vulnerable, exposed back headed for the meathook, and perhaps the most terrifying, Leatherface emerging from the shadows into the beam of a flashlight as his chainsaw roars.
I distinctly remember the first time I saw The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. My friend Elena and I managed to rent a copy from the video store, despite the fact that we were underage. The film had a reputation of being notorious, and watching it, it absolutely lived up to its reputation- far surpassed it, even. Something about the movie just feels wrong...maybe it's Marilyn Burns's relentless screaming, or Leatherface squealing like a pig. Maybe it's something less noticeable, something simpler beneath all the action, like the film grain or the discordant soundtrack, I don't know. Whatever it is, TCM has a snuff film-vibe to it. It all feels a little too real and far too illicit. I still feel naughty watching it, like I shouldn't be allowed- there's really no other movie that's done that for me. Tobe Hooper's incredible achievement simply doesn't lose any of its power over time.Speaking of time...my god, it's 4 in the morning. You're all asleep, aren't you? My whole house is asleep, and here I am trying to type coherent thoughts about The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. That's...cool, right?
THE HAUNTING
Of course...of course I'm referring to Robert Wise's 1963 triumph of supernatural terror. Not only is the 1999 Jan de Bont remake not only not worthy of the title The Haunting but it's also a plain ol' cinematic atrocity, Lili Taylor or no Lili Taylor. In my humble opinion, that is. You might like it. You might also enjoy having flaming matchsticks crammed under your fingernails and eyelids whilst stiletto-clad dwarves tap dance on your private no-no parts, I can't really say. Whatever floats your boat, baby.
What floats my boat, baby, is The Haunting. My brain is starting to glaze over ever so slightly and I'm sure that my brief posting about the movie will not do it justice. Let's just call it the mother of all haunted house movies, shall we?
It's simply an astounding piece of filmmaking any way you slice it. Only a master craftsman such as Wise be able to evoke such a huge reaction in an audience by giving the, really, so very little. A horror film with one special effect? How can that succeed? It works because the visuals, the lighting, and the sound are utilized to far greater effect than any CGI ghost could ever be. Robert Wise knows that we don't need to know exactly what's lurking on the other side of the door- it's the not knowing who or what is pounding and turning the knob that will make us cower in fear. The Haunting is definitely a film to watch with the lights turned off, and no matter how many times I see it, I still feel my heart begin to beat faster when the footsteps and the voices start.
I've really terribly glossed over the plot here because I'm going to assume that all you good horror film fans have seen this one. If you haven't, you're truly missing out on a classic, timeless exercise in terror. Four people, each in their own way wanting desperately to be accepted and to belong, staying in one very, very bad house. Hill House is simply born bad- there are no reasons for its malevolence, there is no appeasing the spirits within so they'll go away. It's purely an evil place, and as Luke (Russ Tamblyn) says, "It ought to be burned down and the ground sown with salt."
If you've yet to read the book upon which the film is based, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, then again- do yourself a favor and get a copy. Jackson manages to evoke more atmosphere and chills in a paragraph than other horror writers can in hundreds of overwrought pages:
Oh, and I'm totally in love with Claire Bloom in this movie. That is all.
What floats my boat, baby, is The Haunting. My brain is starting to glaze over ever so slightly and I'm sure that my brief posting about the movie will not do it justice. Let's just call it the mother of all haunted house movies, shall we?It's simply an astounding piece of filmmaking any way you slice it. Only a master craftsman such as Wise be able to evoke such a huge reaction in an audience by giving the, really, so very little. A horror film with one special effect? How can that succeed? It works because the visuals, the lighting, and the sound are utilized to far greater effect than any CGI ghost could ever be. Robert Wise knows that we don't need to know exactly what's lurking on the other side of the door- it's the not knowing who or what is pounding and turning the knob that will make us cower in fear. The Haunting is definitely a film to watch with the lights turned off, and no matter how many times I see it, I still feel my heart begin to beat faster when the footsteps and the voices start.
I've really terribly glossed over the plot here because I'm going to assume that all you good horror film fans have seen this one. If you haven't, you're truly missing out on a classic, timeless exercise in terror. Four people, each in their own way wanting desperately to be accepted and to belong, staying in one very, very bad house. Hill House is simply born bad- there are no reasons for its malevolence, there is no appeasing the spirits within so they'll go away. It's purely an evil place, and as Luke (Russ Tamblyn) says, "It ought to be burned down and the ground sown with salt."
If you've yet to read the book upon which the film is based, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, then again- do yourself a favor and get a copy. Jackson manages to evoke more atmosphere and chills in a paragraph than other horror writers can in hundreds of overwrought pages:
No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.
Oh, and I'm totally in love with Claire Bloom in this movie. That is all.
SESSION 9
The first time I saw the 2001 film Session 9, I can't say I was terribly impressed- and in retrospect, my unenthusiastic response was completely my own fault. The film simply isn't what I thought it was going to be. I went in expecting a balls-out scarefest, a real horror flick in a real eerie setting. But writer/director Brad Anderson's film is more akin to Don't Look Now or The Shining than it is to Friday the 13th, and expecting one type of movie but getting another left a bad taste in my mouth. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a bit obsessed with scary buidings, particularly dead buildings...more particularly dead insane asylums. Having visited the location used in Session 9, Danvers State Hospital, I decided to give the movie another chance- if only to take in the environment again. Knowing what type of flick this is going in, wow...I'm so glad I gave it another chance to thrill me, because the second time was a charm. I've been enamored with the film ever since.A small crew of HazMat workers spend a week inside Danvers State Hospital, cleaning out the nasty asbestos so the long-closed building can be converted into offices. As the week wears on, tensions build amongst the men and it seems that the hospital's dark past is about to awaken.
Anderson (along with co-writer Stephen Gevedon) has crafted a slow burn of a movie. There's no denying that the film oozes atmosphere right from the start- it'd be near impossible not to when you're shooting on location in an abandoned mental hospital. Through the use of overlapping timelines, foreshadowing, and extremely creepy voiceovers (courtesy of a series of doctor-patient session reels found in the basement), the film chugs along steadily building toward a surprisingly vicious climax. Anderson doesn't trot out the typical horror film cliches along the way- there's no jump scares, the body count throughout is low- but rather he assumes a patience in the viewer and rewards that patience as the events unfold and secrets are revealed. In other words, this is not a horror flick for the jump cut-ADD crowd.Aside from the location, the film succeeds largely because of the aforementioned session reels. As Mike (Gevedon) listens to the story of Mary Hobbes unfold on a dusty reel-to-reel in the asylum basement, the warbly sounds of Mary's "alters"- Princess, Billy, and ultimately, Simon- reveal the evil that can lurk within a damaged mind. As Mary's story parallels that of crew chief Gordon (Peter Mullan), we come to understand that there's the possibility that evil can lurk within any of us, waiting for a trigger to be released. Simon personifies that evil for Mary, and when the film closes with this exchange--
Doctor: And where do you live, Simon?
Mary (as Simon): I live in the weak and the wounded...doc.
--it's absolutely chilling.
Where Session 9 falls short, unfortunately, is in the characterization of the crew. They're all damaged men, yet we only get small glimpses into their lives. Learning more about all of them would serve to heighten the tragedy at the film's core. Overall, this is a minor quibble and Session 9 stands up just fine as an atmospheric psychological horror film.
THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT
Well, now, I reckon that mention of The Blair Witch Project oughta get tongues a-waggin'! Folks seem to love it or hate it- more leaning towards hate, I think, but rarely does the 1999 film not provoke some sort of reaction in people. In October of 1994, three student filmmakers disappeared in the woods near Burkittsville, Maryland while shooting a documentary. A year later their footage was found.
Those two simple sentences accompanied by a website detailing the case of the three missing students (Heather, Josh, and Mike) became nothing short of an advertising phenomenon. I remember word spreading about the upcoming release of the edited "found footage", and whether you knew it was all a hoax or not, The Blair Witch Project was a highly anticipated film. I scored tickets to a packed opening at the Angelika in New York, and man...what a night. The lobby of the theatre was filled with glass cases, inside which were things (supposedly, of course) found buried beneath the farmhouse in the woods- film reels, DAT tapes, Heather's jornal, bits of clothing...it was like a museum exhibit. The movie I'd been looking forward to seeing so much wasn't a letdown to me whatsoever. I was seriously creeped out, I was in the moment...I was scared and at the film's end I was suddenly not looking forward to my impending camping trip to the woods of Maine whatsoever. The film affected me greatly, despite the fact that I knew it was all a put-on. Imagine how my friend Jim felt, however...on the subway ride home that night, he turned to me and asked "So...was that all the actual footage they found under the house, or did they re-shoot it?" Yeah, the lucky bastard believed it the entire time. Never had there been (nor will there ever be again, I don't think) a film quite like The Blair Witch Project.
For plenty of people, they hype surrounding the film simply doesn't match up to the final product. I can understand that. Ultimately, not much happens in the movie- people get lost in the woods. They find some rocks. They see some sticks. They hear some noises. What they don't find is a witch. The end. What's so scary about that?
Undoubtedly, Blair Witch is a film that requires you to work a little. It's like audience participation, in a way- you get out of Blair Witch exactly what you put into it. If you allow yourself to be sucked in, to give in to that primordial fear of the dark and the unknown, the movie might just work for you. For me, it's quite simple. The woods are scary, infinitely more so at night when it's pitch black. Legend has it there's a monster in the woods. Now you're lost in the woods. Yeah, maybe I'm easy, but that's all it takes for me- the dark, the noises, the totems left behind. Given the proper context, sticks are scary, dammit. And I'm sorry, but if the idea of waking up in a tent in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night to the sounds of children screaming doesn't terrify you, then you have no soul.
All my gushing isn't to say the film is perfect- it's far from it. There are "plot holes", if you will, that you can fly a broomstick through (hi, the map incident, anyone?). But ultimately, I'm a big fat scaredy baby when it comes to things that go bump in the night- and in The Blair Witch Project, they're making noise right outside your door.
And I don't care what you say- you know the last 10 minutes of this movie...the 10 minutes in the fucking house- rock your face off.
DON'T LOOK NOW
Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now (1973) is not simply one of my favorite horror films: it's one of my favorite films, period. Anyone who's yet to see it should do themselves a favor and hunt down a copy; anyone who's yet to see it should stop reading this now lest I give anything away. Don't read now! Ha ha, that's ever so funny.If you have seen this landmark film then you already know the story, but it goes something like this. John and Laura Baxter (Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie) lose their young daughter Christine when she drowns in a pond on their property. Some time later, the couple heads to Venice where John has been hired to assist in the restoration of a cathedral. Laura meets a pair of sisters, one of whom is a blind psychic. The psychic tells Laura that Christine is very happy in the afterlife, but her husband John's life is in danger while the couple stays in Venice and they should leave at once. John poo-poos the prediction, but it's a fact that everyone's life is in danger in Venice: there's a serial killer stalking the streets.
Don't Look Now is so much more than a simplistic plot summary can ever make it seem to be. The film absolutely succeeds as a horror film, for so many reasons. Superficially, it works as any horror movie should. One character quips that Venice is like a "dinner party where all the guests have died", and that couldn't be a more apt description- the city is sinister...it's a tomb. As more bodies are found on the streets and in the waterways we're reminded that there's a maniac on the loose, and yet the serial killings are but a backdrop to the plot at large. Every so often Roeg provides us with a glimpse, with a simple shot to remind us that there's danger afoot. The film also touches on a number of horror movie staples, namely ESP and ghosts. Could the diminutive red slicker-clad figure John spies scuttling around a corner really be the ghost of his dead daughter?
This movie is horrifying on a much deeper level, however, one that affects human beings on a base level. As the events of the film are played out, right down to that final revelation- you know the one- we come to realise that the hand of fate controls everyone's destiny. No matter how much you try to steer events, no matter how much you think you have figured out in your life, you simply don't. There is a beginning, there is a conclusion, and there's the path you walk in between the two. Don't Look Now reminds us, however, that the seeming randomness of life leads everyone to one inexorable fate: we all meet the grim reaper. As John Baxter's life is played out in flashbacks during his final moments, we see that every moment, every step, every decision he made led to this one unavoidable moment: death. The "randomness" of a serial killer in a red slicker isn't random at all- it's fate. It makes sense, and it doesn't make sense, all at the same time. Don't Look Now provides a far more deeply profound sort of terror than any Jason Voorhees movie ever could; you will someday meet your fate and it could be like something straight from your worst nightmares. No one knows until they arrive, but you can be sure you're on your way.
Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie are simply amazing in this film. Both are such extraordinary actors that they can each convey more with a single look, with a mere facial expression, than most any other actor I've seen. And you know, I love Donald Sutherland- particularly 1970s afro Donald Sutherland. I've said time and again that horror films that succeed are the ones that make us care about the characters, and that's exactly what happens here. We care about John and Laura Baxter because they're real human beings. It's as simple as that. Because we've come to love them, when all the puzzle pieces fall into place during the last 15 minutes of the film, we're devastated. Good people are supposed to be rewarded, aren't they? As ludicrous as it may seem, we want John to be chasing his daughter through Venice, somehow brought back to life. Then, in an instant, Roeg reminds us yet again: even good people meet the reaper. That's fate, baby.
CANDYMAN
Based on the Clive Barker story "The Forbidden", Candyman is the story of Helen Lyle (Virginia Madsen), a graduate student in Chicago writing a thesis about urban myths, legends, and folklore. Helen's research takes her into the ganglands and the projects of Cabrini Green in search of "Candyman", a vicious killer with a hook for a hand. She finds out that Candyman is not only very much real, but is responsible for a series of grisly crimes for which Helen herself will be charged.Ah, Candyman. I love this movie and I have since I saw it in the theatre during its original run in 1992. In fact, after seeing it the first time, my friends and I were all so scared we immediately went to a cemetery and dared each other to say "Candyman!" five times. Yes it was a silly thing to do, and no- no one would say his name five times. While the movie doesn't scare me as it did then, I still think it's a fantastic flick and far underrated. I'd easily put in near the top of the list for horror films of the last 15 years.
As a horror film, it holds up just swell. There's gore, there's terror, there's Tony Todd's booming voice. More than sheer visceral thrills, however, Candyman works so well because it's a film that's got something to say: it's a meditation on racism, classism, fame, inner city economics, crime, and the power of myth. It's a very smart movie.
I mentioned Tony Todd's voice- his deep baritone is absolutely chilling, and as he stands at about 10'3", he cuts an imposing figure when he finally emerges from the shadows. Virginia Madsen is fanfuckingtastic as Helen, and I'm glad to see that she's finally getting some recognition for her acting- talk about underrappreciated. And then there's the haunting score by Philip Glass- Philip Glass! Scoring a horror flick! The spare piano refrains and gothic touches are among the best I've heard in a horror movie, and prove exactly what John Carpenter proved with his soundtrack for Halloween: that less really is more. Who needs pounding, blaring heavy metal? It doesn't heighten anyone's fear...but a mere 10 notes played on a piano will stay with you and draw you in to the atmosphere.
I saw the second Candyman flick, and I know there's more in the series, but...they just don't have whatever magic it is that the first film has. They're all A-1 without the steak, you know? Hey, I'm hungry! On to flick #2...whatever shall I choose?
Day 13- videos of fire
Did you know that it's quite simple to change the word "VACATION" into the word "MARATHON" in PhotoShop? It is! Try it sometime and impress your friends!Well, children, I'm almost ready to begin. I'm going to go get some fresh air and then come back and watch the first feature in my I Want To Be Scared, Dammit! Marathon...what shall it be? I haven't yet decided. For some reason I'm making the choice harder than it needs to be. I tend to make things harder than they need to be all the time, however...like when I put on my pants, I juggle flaming chainsaws at the same time. I'm always up for a challenge, after all. It's just how I am- life on the edge and all that.
Oct 13, 2006
Day 12- Where's the beef?
Today's selection, the 2004 Irish zombie horror-comedy-grossfest Dead Meat, comes to us from deep within Fangoria's "Gore Zone". It is my understanding that the Gore Zone is located right down the block from Vanessa Williams's Comfort Zone.
Martin (David Ryan) and Helena (Marian Araujo) are toodling around the Irish countryside in their Saab one fine day. Martin takes his eyes off the road for an instant and before you can say ker-splat, he's run over someone and done killed the poor fella dead. Spying a house just over a hillcrest, the distraught couple decides to take the body there and find some help. Before you can say holy fucking wow, I never saw that coming, the dead man springs back to life and takes a chomp out of Martin's neck. Martin dispatches his attacker in a noisy fashion and sends Helena on to the house to fetch help for him.
The farmhouse is empty but for some rotting food and one very dead owner, and before you can say this movie is simply FULL of surprises, Martin comes shuffling in ready to do some chomping of his own. After a struggle, Helena kills her boyfriend by...umm...sucking out his eye and brains with a vacuum cleaner, I think. At any rate, the immediate threat is over but there are more zombies shuffling in the door, intent, one can assume, on getting up to various deadly zombie shenanigans.
Helena beats feet and soon meets up with Desmond (David Muyllaert), a local gravedigger also on the run. As the two take off for the perceived safety of Desmond's house, we're treated to a long stretch of walk, zombies, walk, walk, zombies, walk, zombies.
Before you can say omigod I totally never woulda guessed that, the pair arrive at Des's place and find that it's not safe at all- it's been overrun! Fortunately, they meet up with a few more survivors. These folks have an SUV, and the group decides to head to the emergency shelter they'd heard about on the radio. At this point in the proceedings, we're treated to a long stretch of drive, zombies, drive, drive, zombies, drive, zombies. BUT! The SUV soon gets stuck in the mud, so we return to walk, zombies, walk...you get the idea, right?
As they attempt to reach safety, the group slowly dwindles in numbers until, in a shocking turn of events, the scant survivors remaining end up cornered and most of them die. Then a hazmat team comes in guns a blazin' and...the end.
So, Dead Meat. You may have gathered that watching it felt a little like I was watching a zombie movie I'd seen before, only at times the dialogue was indecipherable due to heavy Irish accents. It's true, all the zombie staples are present and accounted for: the various grody methods of disposing of zombies, the feast scene, the band of survivors, the final zombie siege, blah blah blah. It's worth noting, I suppose, that the zombies in Dead Meat aren't really zombies, but rather infected people- much like the "zombies" of Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later. This time around, the infection stems from a virulent strain of Mad Cow Disease which has leapt from the bovine ilk to the homo sapiens ilk, giving the infected bad skin and an odd new appetite. This could make for an interesting bit of social commentary, as the source of the outbreak is traced back to bad farming practices. The ideas are tossed around briefly but not really explored or given a chance to become anything meaningful- it's really just an excuse to get zombies onscreen.
Writer/director Conor McMahon follows not only the trail blazed by George Romero but also that of a young Peter Jackson and pours on liberal amounts of gross-out humor. At times it works well- there's no denying the joy that can be found in a zombified cow attacking a human. That's just cinematic gold, people. At other times, however, the humor feels forced and out of place, as when Helena suddenly turns all ninjas and kills a zombie by throwing her shoe at him with a newfound strength.
While a love for Romero's zombie films has spawned innumerable filmmakers who want to take a shot a telling a zombie tale, the majority of these efforts come up far, far short of hitting the mark. To me, it's because people seem to miss the point of Romero's films- that they're not about the zombies, but rather about the people trying to survive. Obviously Romero (and Tom Savini) don't shy away from explicit gore, violence, and zombie munching parties, but he spends far more time of character development and group dynamics. When Barbara is dragged to her death by her brother in Night of the Living Dead, we care because we've been with her from the film's beginning and we've seen her stuggle through the nightmare. When zombie Stephen emerges from the elevator in Dawn of the Dead, we feel for Franny and it seems like there's no hope left for any of them. The horror in Romero's zombie films is enhanced by the drama that surrounds it, and when a film lacks that drama and character development, we simply don't care. The movie becomes nothing more than an excuse to trot out all the aforementioned zombie set pieces. The plot shuffles from A to B to Z- we've seen it all before and it's just...sort of...there. This is Dead Meat's biggest flaw, in my opinion. It was an 80 minute diversion with a few highlights, but I didn't really care one way or another about any of it. I give it 6 out of 10 well, it's better than e coli, that's for sures.
In other news, I say enough. I've watched 12 movies so far this month and while I've certainly enjoyed my fair share of them, none of them have been scary beyond a brief sequence here and a creepy shot there. What the f, I say...what the f! I watch horror movies to get scared, dammit! And so...tomorrow I'll be taking the ultimate heart-stopping plunge to partake in the I Want To Be Scared, Dammit! Marathon. Whatever will I be watching during said endurance test? I'll be watching some of my favorite scary movies, that's what...movies that have actually kept me awake at night. Some of these flicks might not live up to my wide-eyed memories of them, but it's worth a damn try. Oh, and incidentally, I'll only be watching movies I haven't yet reviewed for Final Girl- maybe I've mentioned them, but I've never written much about them beyond that. This means there'll be no Halloweens or Friday the 13ths even though some of them are among my favorites, for I reviewed all those movies last October during my marathons of madness. Also like those marathons, I'll be reviewing each movie after I watch it, so check back from time to time during the day. Not only will you get to see me descend into sore-ass, sleep-deprived insanity, but you'll find out what some of my favorite horror movies are. Wow! What a Saturday!
Martin (David Ryan) and Helena (Marian Araujo) are toodling around the Irish countryside in their Saab one fine day. Martin takes his eyes off the road for an instant and before you can say ker-splat, he's run over someone and done killed the poor fella dead. Spying a house just over a hillcrest, the distraught couple decides to take the body there and find some help. Before you can say holy fucking wow, I never saw that coming, the dead man springs back to life and takes a chomp out of Martin's neck. Martin dispatches his attacker in a noisy fashion and sends Helena on to the house to fetch help for him.
The farmhouse is empty but for some rotting food and one very dead owner, and before you can say this movie is simply FULL of surprises, Martin comes shuffling in ready to do some chomping of his own. After a struggle, Helena kills her boyfriend by...umm...sucking out his eye and brains with a vacuum cleaner, I think. At any rate, the immediate threat is over but there are more zombies shuffling in the door, intent, one can assume, on getting up to various deadly zombie shenanigans.
Helena beats feet and soon meets up with Desmond (David Muyllaert), a local gravedigger also on the run. As the two take off for the perceived safety of Desmond's house, we're treated to a long stretch of walk, zombies, walk, walk, zombies, walk, zombies.
Before you can say omigod I totally never woulda guessed that, the pair arrive at Des's place and find that it's not safe at all- it's been overrun! Fortunately, they meet up with a few more survivors. These folks have an SUV, and the group decides to head to the emergency shelter they'd heard about on the radio. At this point in the proceedings, we're treated to a long stretch of drive, zombies, drive, drive, zombies, drive, zombies. BUT! The SUV soon gets stuck in the mud, so we return to walk, zombies, walk...you get the idea, right?As they attempt to reach safety, the group slowly dwindles in numbers until, in a shocking turn of events, the scant survivors remaining end up cornered and most of them die. Then a hazmat team comes in guns a blazin' and...the end.
So, Dead Meat. You may have gathered that watching it felt a little like I was watching a zombie movie I'd seen before, only at times the dialogue was indecipherable due to heavy Irish accents. It's true, all the zombie staples are present and accounted for: the various grody methods of disposing of zombies, the feast scene, the band of survivors, the final zombie siege, blah blah blah. It's worth noting, I suppose, that the zombies in Dead Meat aren't really zombies, but rather infected people- much like the "zombies" of Danny Boyle's 28 Days Later. This time around, the infection stems from a virulent strain of Mad Cow Disease which has leapt from the bovine ilk to the homo sapiens ilk, giving the infected bad skin and an odd new appetite. This could make for an interesting bit of social commentary, as the source of the outbreak is traced back to bad farming practices. The ideas are tossed around briefly but not really explored or given a chance to become anything meaningful- it's really just an excuse to get zombies onscreen.
Writer/director Conor McMahon follows not only the trail blazed by George Romero but also that of a young Peter Jackson and pours on liberal amounts of gross-out humor. At times it works well- there's no denying the joy that can be found in a zombified cow attacking a human. That's just cinematic gold, people. At other times, however, the humor feels forced and out of place, as when Helena suddenly turns all ninjas and kills a zombie by throwing her shoe at him with a newfound strength.While a love for Romero's zombie films has spawned innumerable filmmakers who want to take a shot a telling a zombie tale, the majority of these efforts come up far, far short of hitting the mark. To me, it's because people seem to miss the point of Romero's films- that they're not about the zombies, but rather about the people trying to survive. Obviously Romero (and Tom Savini) don't shy away from explicit gore, violence, and zombie munching parties, but he spends far more time of character development and group dynamics. When Barbara is dragged to her death by her brother in Night of the Living Dead, we care because we've been with her from the film's beginning and we've seen her stuggle through the nightmare. When zombie Stephen emerges from the elevator in Dawn of the Dead, we feel for Franny and it seems like there's no hope left for any of them. The horror in Romero's zombie films is enhanced by the drama that surrounds it, and when a film lacks that drama and character development, we simply don't care. The movie becomes nothing more than an excuse to trot out all the aforementioned zombie set pieces. The plot shuffles from A to B to Z- we've seen it all before and it's just...sort of...there. This is Dead Meat's biggest flaw, in my opinion. It was an 80 minute diversion with a few highlights, but I didn't really care one way or another about any of it. I give it 6 out of 10 well, it's better than e coli, that's for sures.
In other news, I say enough. I've watched 12 movies so far this month and while I've certainly enjoyed my fair share of them, none of them have been scary beyond a brief sequence here and a creepy shot there. What the f, I say...what the f! I watch horror movies to get scared, dammit! And so...tomorrow I'll be taking the ultimate heart-stopping plunge to partake in the I Want To Be Scared, Dammit! Marathon. Whatever will I be watching during said endurance test? I'll be watching some of my favorite scary movies, that's what...movies that have actually kept me awake at night. Some of these flicks might not live up to my wide-eyed memories of them, but it's worth a damn try. Oh, and incidentally, I'll only be watching movies I haven't yet reviewed for Final Girl- maybe I've mentioned them, but I've never written much about them beyond that. This means there'll be no Halloweens or Friday the 13ths even though some of them are among my favorites, for I reviewed all those movies last October during my marathons of madness. Also like those marathons, I'll be reviewing each movie after I watch it, so check back from time to time during the day. Not only will you get to see me descend into sore-ass, sleep-deprived insanity, but you'll find out what some of my favorite horror movies are. Wow! What a Saturday!
Oct 12, 2006
Day 11- Hooray, that someone is me!
Straight from The Amanda Collection into my heart goes the little-seen, little-known 1978 TV movie Someone's Watching Me! As I popped the DVD in, I thought..."Hmm...the title sounds a little familiar, yet I know nothing of this so-called "Someone's Watching Me". Is it because the Rockwell son "Somebody's Watching Me" immediately got stuck in my head when the title placard appeared? I hate that song. This movie better not suck."
Then the names started appearing on the screen...Lauren Hutton...Adrienne Barbeau...and John Carpenter. Yes folks, the film is written and directed by John Carpenter, he of the fogs and the shapes and the ghosts of Mars of which we do not speak. Thankfully, this is prime 1978 Carpenter, back when he was setting about making himself a master of the craft of filmmaking.
Lauren Hutton stars as Leigh Michaels, a New York to Los Angeles transplant who takes a new job as a director at a television station. She's the pluck, independent type...a little loopy, maybe, but Carpenter's written her so she has just the slightest whiff of a Hawksian dame. Ten minutes into this movie, I'm thinking...why haven't I seen more Lauren Hutton movies? There should be more Lauren Hutton movies. She's just so fucking rad, what with that gap and all. As Amanda herself would say...WHITE. HOT.
At any rate, what Leigh doesn't know is that there's a creepy peeping tom/stalker type living in the high-rise directly opposite hers and wouldn't you know- he trains his extremely long, extremely phallic lens on Leigh straight away.
It's not long before Leigh's...admirer makes himself known. He leaves her odd gifts, like a telescope of her very own. He calls her at home, at work...he leaves notes on her door. In two extremely tense sequences, he actually invades Leigh's home. At one point, she comes home and finds the door to her apartment open. She finds no one, and when the phone rings, she takes the call. Then, in a flash, we see a black-clad figure dart through a room behind her. It's a frightening shot- a subtle, understated shot- pure Carpenter.
Later, after having sought the help of the police (who, of course, can't do anything because Mr. Creep hasn't really done anything himself), Leigh comes home and hears the sound of her shower running. Thinking it's her boyfriend (David Birney- how bitchin' is that?), she heads into the steamy room only to find this terrifying message:
Someone's Watching Me! gets its Rear Window on towards the end as Leigh figures out which apartment across the way belongs to Mr. Creep and she goes to investigate as her pal Sophie (Adrienne Barbeau) watches from Leigh's apartment and talks to her via walkie talkie. Instead of coming after Leigh, however, Mr. Creep goes after Sophie. Leigh can only watch helplessly as Mr. Creep becomes Mr. Murderer.This early Carpenter effort is very Hitchcockian throughout. It's a tense movie, not an explicit one (it was made for television after all)- and Carpenter really knows how to use that camera to set up some brilliant shots.
As I said earlier, I liked Leigh- she's smart, she's funny- but she can be extremely frustrating as well. I mean, you know some pervo is spying on you from across the way and yet you refuse to close your drapes? Oh, Leigh, come on. I know you don't want him to control your life, but still. the supporting cast is fantastic too, from David Birney as Leigh's sweet, supportive new boyfriend to Carpenter mainstay Charles Cyphers as, of course, the detective assigned to Leigh's case. I do love a director who's loyal to his actors. Of course, let us not neglect to mention again Adrienne Barbeau as Sophie, Leigh's lesbian co-worker. Yes, lesbian. The beauty of it is that Sophie isn't there for titillation or social commentary- she just...is. Her sexual preference, when addressed, is handled with maturity- it's just another characteristic. From the outset, Sophie assures Leigh that she's "not her type". That's a good thing, because I'm sure a Barbeau/Hutton hookup would...I don't know, cause a rip in the very fabric of space and time or something for all its hotness.
The main problem I have with movies like Someone's Watching Me!, the stalker genre, is that you can be fairly assured that the protagonist isn't really in any danger until the film's end, during the confrontation with the stalker- and even then, you know that most likely the hero or heroine will escape. That's a small gripe that's aimed at the genre, however, and not so much the film itself. John Carpenter and his fine cast created a real gem of suspense here, and it makes me pine for the days when TV movies were awesome. I give it 8.5 out of 10 bitchin' gapped teeth.
Oct 11, 2006
Day 10- Peep Show
Romano Scavolini's Nightmare (aka Nightmares in a Damaged Brain) appeared on the scene in late 1981 (ah, that magical year...) and brought the slasher film from the realm of parody, dumb teenagers, and mainstream acceptance (eg Student Bodies) directly back into the realm of the gritty and of the dirty- back into the fringes of cinema.
George Tatum (Baird Stafford) is a particularly dangerous inmate at a mental institution in New York City. He's plagued by violent visions and nightmares, but doctors put him on an experimental drug treatment and are soon confident that he's ready to become a functioning member of society yet again. Upon leaving the institution, Tatum visits a sleazy peep show and...something in his brain breaks-- or re-breaks. Whether due to the visions from his past or simply the odor of an early-80s 42nd Street porn palace, we don't know. Either way, however, Tatum ends up writhing on the floor and foaming at the mouth as some chick with frizzy hair pleasures herself on the other side of the glass.
Tatum recovers well enough to hop in his giant early-80s car and head down to Florida in search of his ex-wife and his son, dispatching a few unlucky women along the way. At the film's end, Tatum's memory-nightmare-vision is played out in full and we finally learn the reasons behind his madness. When he was but a boy, George came home one afternoon and caught his parents engaging in a game of "tie me up and slap me around a little!", which freaked out the poor young thing. He promptly fetched an axe and got all Lizzie Borden on mom and dad.
Were the film not so bloody and, at times, explicitly gory, the plot could almost pass for a Lifetime movie starring the late Robert Urich of television's Spenser: For Hire as George Tatum and Meredith Baxter Birney of television's Family Ties as his estranged wife. Nightmare, however, is very bloody and just as seedy as the peep show George hits in NYC. Despite the relatively low body count, there are plenty of gurgling, gaping wounds on display and the blood flies freely- especially as little George gives mom and dad some well-placed whacks.
There's always been contention as to who exactly is responsible for the gore makeup FX in Nightmare, and even 25 years after the film's release, the mystery hasn't been resolved. Writer/director Scavolini insists that the effects are courtesy of the maestro himself, Tom Savini. Savini says that while he was contaced about the film while it was in the early stages, he never officially signed on and eventually went to work on Creepshow instead. He threatened a lawsuit to have his name removed from the credits but never followed through. While Savini disavows the film to this day, his name is still emblazoned on the screen: Makeup by Tom Savini. Where's Columbo when you need him?
I'm kind of torn about Nightmare. Whenever I think of something I like about it, like the truly creepy moment when a Polaroid picture of a house develops and there might be a man standing in the upstairs window, I think of something else about it that I hated, like the terrible acting- particularly from Tatum's bitchy ex-wife (Sharon Smith). This movie as the balls to kill a kid (albeit offscreen)- that's good. Ultimately, the plot is too drawn out and fairly dull- that's bad. Tatum is a truly insane psychopath- that's good. The film feels a little too trashy and exploitative for me to really say "Yeah, I like this movie!"- that's bad. See what I mean? A movie I didn't really like has some elements that I really did like. What am I supposed to do with that? Fine...middle of the road it is! I give it 5 out of 10 just call me Sybils.
George Tatum (Baird Stafford) is a particularly dangerous inmate at a mental institution in New York City. He's plagued by violent visions and nightmares, but doctors put him on an experimental drug treatment and are soon confident that he's ready to become a functioning member of society yet again. Upon leaving the institution, Tatum visits a sleazy peep show and...something in his brain breaks-- or re-breaks. Whether due to the visions from his past or simply the odor of an early-80s 42nd Street porn palace, we don't know. Either way, however, Tatum ends up writhing on the floor and foaming at the mouth as some chick with frizzy hair pleasures herself on the other side of the glass.
Tatum recovers well enough to hop in his giant early-80s car and head down to Florida in search of his ex-wife and his son, dispatching a few unlucky women along the way. At the film's end, Tatum's memory-nightmare-vision is played out in full and we finally learn the reasons behind his madness. When he was but a boy, George came home one afternoon and caught his parents engaging in a game of "tie me up and slap me around a little!", which freaked out the poor young thing. He promptly fetched an axe and got all Lizzie Borden on mom and dad.Were the film not so bloody and, at times, explicitly gory, the plot could almost pass for a Lifetime movie starring the late Robert Urich of television's Spenser: For Hire as George Tatum and Meredith Baxter Birney of television's Family Ties as his estranged wife. Nightmare, however, is very bloody and just as seedy as the peep show George hits in NYC. Despite the relatively low body count, there are plenty of gurgling, gaping wounds on display and the blood flies freely- especially as little George gives mom and dad some well-placed whacks.
There's always been contention as to who exactly is responsible for the gore makeup FX in Nightmare, and even 25 years after the film's release, the mystery hasn't been resolved. Writer/director Scavolini insists that the effects are courtesy of the maestro himself, Tom Savini. Savini says that while he was contaced about the film while it was in the early stages, he never officially signed on and eventually went to work on Creepshow instead. He threatened a lawsuit to have his name removed from the credits but never followed through. While Savini disavows the film to this day, his name is still emblazoned on the screen: Makeup by Tom Savini. Where's Columbo when you need him?
I'm kind of torn about Nightmare. Whenever I think of something I like about it, like the truly creepy moment when a Polaroid picture of a house develops and there might be a man standing in the upstairs window, I think of something else about it that I hated, like the terrible acting- particularly from Tatum's bitchy ex-wife (Sharon Smith). This movie as the balls to kill a kid (albeit offscreen)- that's good. Ultimately, the plot is too drawn out and fairly dull- that's bad. Tatum is a truly insane psychopath- that's good. The film feels a little too trashy and exploitative for me to really say "Yeah, I like this movie!"- that's bad. See what I mean? A movie I didn't really like has some elements that I really did like. What am I supposed to do with that? Fine...middle of the road it is! I give it 5 out of 10 just call me Sybils.
Oct 9, 2006
Day 9- Werewolves of Scotland
Remember when I picked The Descent for a Final Girl Film Club selection and it all rocked and shit? Me too! Neil Marshall's film about a spelunking trip gone awry was gritty, gory, exhilirating, and serious. I absolutely loved it and think it one of the best modern flicks available. You can imagine my excitement, then, when Marshall's debut film Dog Soldiers (2002) arrived yesterday in a little red Netflix envelope.
In the film, a group of soldiers head out for what should be a relatively simple military exercise in the Scottish highlands. In fact, their biggest worry is that their missing a big football match whilst traipsing around the woods. Everything goes to pot as the sun begins to set and they come across the corpses of their exercise opponents...well, it's more like they come across lots of red and goo where the corpses should be. Before long, the soldiers are holed up in a remote farmhouse as a pack of hungry hungryhippos werewolves closes in around them.
Dog Soldiers certainly bears a resemblance to the film that would follow along a couple of years later, The Descent. A small group of elite, trained professionals goes into the wilderness expecting a cakewalk for their scheduled activities. Instead, they're put on the defensive by a group of vicious monsters. Both films get the audience's blood pumping and don't skimp on showing the blood flowing...and both films owe a little debt to James Cameron's Aliens.
Where the films vary greatly, however, is in the amount of humor. The only humor found in The Descent was there to ease the tension- and even then it was very spare. The first two-thirds of Dog Soldiers, while peppered somewhat liberally with clever lines, are action-packed, brutal, and at times terrifying. In fact, I was surprised to find myself so enamoured with a werewolf movie. The werewolves here are huge and far more vicious than what you find in, say, An American Werewolf in London. They're much tougher and much smarter, retaining more than a little of their human consciousness.
Towards the end, however, the film begins to veer towards Evil Dead horror/comedy territory and it was a bit jarring. Rather than continuing as a straightforward monster movie (a genre which inherently has whiffs of B-Movies, I realize), the film almost becomes a parody of itself and American action films before you know what's happening. It manages to remain a bit shy of completely far-fetched, but it does begin to feel rushed, or as if Marshall wasn't sure exactly how to end this thing.
This isn't to say I didn't enjoy the film- it is a monster movie after all. I enjoyed it very much- I was simply a bit surprised when it shifted slightly off-course. Nonetheless, it gets 8.25 out of 10 furballs.
In the film, a group of soldiers head out for what should be a relatively simple military exercise in the Scottish highlands. In fact, their biggest worry is that their missing a big football match whilst traipsing around the woods. Everything goes to pot as the sun begins to set and they come across the corpses of their exercise opponents...well, it's more like they come across lots of red and goo where the corpses should be. Before long, the soldiers are holed up in a remote farmhouse as a pack of hungry hungry
Dog Soldiers certainly bears a resemblance to the film that would follow along a couple of years later, The Descent. A small group of elite, trained professionals goes into the wilderness expecting a cakewalk for their scheduled activities. Instead, they're put on the defensive by a group of vicious monsters. Both films get the audience's blood pumping and don't skimp on showing the blood flowing...and both films owe a little debt to James Cameron's Aliens.Where the films vary greatly, however, is in the amount of humor. The only humor found in The Descent was there to ease the tension- and even then it was very spare. The first two-thirds of Dog Soldiers, while peppered somewhat liberally with clever lines, are action-packed, brutal, and at times terrifying. In fact, I was surprised to find myself so enamoured with a werewolf movie. The werewolves here are huge and far more vicious than what you find in, say, An American Werewolf in London. They're much tougher and much smarter, retaining more than a little of their human consciousness.
Towards the end, however, the film begins to veer towards Evil Dead horror/comedy territory and it was a bit jarring. Rather than continuing as a straightforward monster movie (a genre which inherently has whiffs of B-Movies, I realize), the film almost becomes a parody of itself and American action films before you know what's happening. It manages to remain a bit shy of completely far-fetched, but it does begin to feel rushed, or as if Marshall wasn't sure exactly how to end this thing.
This isn't to say I didn't enjoy the film- it is a monster movie after all. I enjoyed it very much- I was simply a bit surprised when it shifted slightly off-course. Nonetheless, it gets 8.25 out of 10 furballs.
Oct 8, 2006
Day 8- It Takes Two
Oh dear...only eight days into this thing and I'm quoting Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock in the post title. Things could get messy, people...things could get very messy.Anyway, rather than watching two movies today, I decided to watch one movie with two baby movies inside. See how I found a loophole in yesterday's promise? Sneaky hobbitses! I simply can't be trusted. You won't be getting that engagement ring I promised either...nor will I divorce my wife. I'll simply string you along and continue this affair until---err, wait. Where am I? What was I saying? Uhh...ignore that last bit. I'm...uh, IMing someone in another browser window.
Though my nonsensical Sunday night ramblings might lead you to believe otherwise, I really did manage to watch a movie today. No really! I finally got around to watching Two Evil Eyes (1990), which I picked up on VHS for $3 at a book store some time ago. It was exactly what the doctor ordered on a chilly Sunday afternoon where I could barely get motivated to hit "play".
Two Evil Eyes is a collaboration between horror maestros George Romero and Dario Argento, each writer/director putting his own spin on tales from the master of the macabre himself, Edgar Allen Poe. While tracking down info on this flick tonight, I learned that originally it was intended to be a longer anthology with John Carpenter and Wes Craven also contributing stories. Obviously the Carpenter and Craven dropped out of the project at some point, but I like to think that if they had stayed on board, the film might have been called Four Evil Eyes. There would have been some unifying element involving a nerd. A very, very bad nerd. Alas, this was not to be. Anyway...
The first story, "The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar", belongs to Romero. Adrienne Barbeau stars as Jessica, a flight attendant-turned-trophy wife for crotchety (and wealthy, natch) ol' Mr. Valdemar. As the old coot nears death, Jessica and her lover Robert (Ramy Zada) conspire to get their hands on his money. Robert, acting as Valdemar's doctor, hypnotizes the man into signing over his. The catch, however, is that the paperwork will take a few weeks to clear. If Valdemar dies in the interim, Jessica gets zilch. Shockingly enough, Valdemar dies right away. The couple decides to literally put the body on ice until they can cash in. Unfortunately, Valdemar died while still under hypnosis...and now some evil beings from the other side want to use his body as a channel to enter the world of the living.
It makes sense when you're watching it, I promise. Romero's take on M. Valdemar is like a comfy old sweater. There's alot of scheming and buildup, and the audience can sit back and wait to find out how the greedy couple is going to get their comeuppance. The story bears some similarities to the "Something to Tide You Over" short in Romero's Creepshow when Mr. Valdemar's squishy corpse starts shambling around, looking for revenge. Like I said...a comfy old sweater. It's familiar, it's enjoyable, and this could easily have been an episode of Tales form the Crypt. In my estimation, that's not a bad thing.
For the second Poe tale, "The Black Cat", Dario Argento takes the reins and ups the ante. Harvey Keitel stars as Rod Usher (nyuk nyuk!), an artist who's specialty (or obsession, maybe) is photographing crime scenes. This conceit gives Argento license to construct some elaborate gore pieces, including a body sliced in half by a pendulum and a victim with all her teeth bloodily extracted by a crazy-haired Tom Savini.Usher's live-in girlfriend Annabel (Madeleine Potter...again, I say...nyuk) brings home a stray black cat who immediately takes a disliking to Usher. The feeling is mutual and Usher "takes care" of the situation, but the cat keeps returning. Eventually Annabel catches on that her boyfriend might not be the type of man she thought he was. As she tries to leave him, she meets the sharp end of a meat cleaver up close and personal. Usher seals her body up in the walls of the house, and you probably know how this story ends by now. This being a Dario Argento film, however, you can be sure that things soon spiral out of control into the absurd and the gory.
Undoubtedly, Argento's contribution is the more lively of the two. There's more action, there's more blood, and it feels less like another walk on familiar ground. Harvey Keitel gives a performance that's appropriately slimy, violent, and infuriating. Romero's visuals tend to be on the more subtle side, whereas Argento concocts original camera tricks and outrageous gore shots.Despite the fact that a notice from the Humane Society (embazoned across the screen immediately at the film's end) assures the viewer that no cats experienced any physical or psychological discomfort during filming, there are portions of "The Black Cat" that I found difficult to watch- so much so that I considered turning it off. Rod Usher strangles the cat at one point and photographs it while it dies, just to give you a taste. I knew it was all camera trickery, but it's still not to my tastes, to say the least.
Whether you prefer one half of Two Evil Eyes to the other is most likely come down to style preference. I mean, do you like your Cheetos puffed or crunchy? Either way, they both taste good on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I give it 7 out of 10 orange-stained fingertips.
Oct 7, 2006
Day 7- On the Seventh Day, She Rested...Kinda
Let's just get this out of the way: no movie or review today. But I swear, I have good reason, I promise! I'm currently in the midst of the 24 Hour Comics Day challenge, you see, and I thought I might have time to squeeze in a review at some point. The comics challenge, however, is kicking my ass- I'll be surprised if I can finish my book in 24 hours. To make up for this crappiness, I'll pull double duty tomorrow. I'm sorry I let you kids down today, but trust me...Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad isn't happy with me either, and he feels your pain.
Sometimes we must sacrifice the horror for other things. It's sad but true. Just be thankful you won't be here 10 hours from now when I still have to draw 10 pages of my book and I've gone mad. It won't be pretty...hell, it isn't pretty now.
As I said on Day 2, I'm a little obsessed with Death Valley, CA. It was second only to the Grand Canyon in most amazing place I saw during my vacation. Therefore, I feel it necessary to point out that tomorrow's Nature (check your local listings, kids!) is Life in Death Valley, and I am super duper wicked psyched.
Yes, I'm a PBS nerd.
So...I promise to get you some reviews tomorrow, but what's going to top a show about life in one of the most inhospitable- and bitchin'!- places on Earth? Whatever else I watch better be good...better be damn good. I give myself 1 out of 10 I'm a bigger letdown than Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad starring in Night of Bloody Horrors.
Sometimes we must sacrifice the horror for other things. It's sad but true. Just be thankful you won't be here 10 hours from now when I still have to draw 10 pages of my book and I've gone mad. It won't be pretty...hell, it isn't pretty now.As I said on Day 2, I'm a little obsessed with Death Valley, CA. It was second only to the Grand Canyon in most amazing place I saw during my vacation. Therefore, I feel it necessary to point out that tomorrow's Nature (check your local listings, kids!) is Life in Death Valley, and I am super duper wicked psyched.
Yes, I'm a PBS nerd.
So...I promise to get you some reviews tomorrow, but what's going to top a show about life in one of the most inhospitable- and bitchin'!- places on Earth? Whatever else I watch better be good...better be damn good. I give myself 1 out of 10 I'm a bigger letdown than Gerald McRaney of television's Major Dad starring in Night of Bloody Horrors.
Oct 6, 2006
Day 6- pass the peace pipe
Yup. Uh huh. So...I watched Scalps (1983), and I've been sitting here trying to think of something to say about it.
The plot goes something like this...stop me if you've heard this one before. A group of unappealing college students go on an archaeological dig out in the desert despite warnings about the bad mojo that would ensue if they should dig up any sacred Indian artifacts. The students dig up the artifacts and bad mojo ensues. Specifically, one of the students- the jock- becomes possessed by the spirit of the Indian warrior Black Claw and proceeds to kill all of his friends. The end.
It sounds better than it is, really...Scalps isn't good enough to be good and isn't consistently bad enough to be bad. There's this little Indian head that pops up in odd places, though- in bowls, in campfires- that did liven things up a bit.
The largest problem, I think, is the pacing. The movie is short- roughly 80 minutes- but the first 45 or so are incredibly dull. There go the unappealing college students driving in their giant station wagon! There they go walking up a hill! There they are- wow- talking! When the jock finally gets possessed and you think things are gonna actually start happening in the movie, he immediately proceeds to rape his girlfriend in an extended sequence. As the first real bit of violence in the movie, it sort of sets a tone...a scuzzy tone. I can't say I'm exactly a big fan of rape sequences, but that's just me.
After the girlfriend has been raped and killed, the rest of the gang are dispatched rather quickly. The kills alternate between realistically graphic and gory (the raped girlfriend gets scalped) and laughably fake (in one decapitation sequence, the head starts to fall off before the victim is hit).
Eventually the jock is killed off and only the trippy dippy hippy chick DJ is left. She's possessed and ready for action- action promised in the credits: COMING SOON! SCALPS II: THE RETURN OF DJ...a movie that never came to be. Given the bad taste Scalps left in my mouth, that's probably for the best. I give it 3 out of 10 well, I said something about its.
The plot goes something like this...stop me if you've heard this one before. A group of unappealing college students go on an archaeological dig out in the desert despite warnings about the bad mojo that would ensue if they should dig up any sacred Indian artifacts. The students dig up the artifacts and bad mojo ensues. Specifically, one of the students- the jock- becomes possessed by the spirit of the Indian warrior Black Claw and proceeds to kill all of his friends. The end.It sounds better than it is, really...Scalps isn't good enough to be good and isn't consistently bad enough to be bad. There's this little Indian head that pops up in odd places, though- in bowls, in campfires- that did liven things up a bit.
The largest problem, I think, is the pacing. The movie is short- roughly 80 minutes- but the first 45 or so are incredibly dull. There go the unappealing college students driving in their giant station wagon! There they go walking up a hill! There they are- wow- talking! When the jock finally gets possessed and you think things are gonna actually start happening in the movie, he immediately proceeds to rape his girlfriend in an extended sequence. As the first real bit of violence in the movie, it sort of sets a tone...a scuzzy tone. I can't say I'm exactly a big fan of rape sequences, but that's just me.After the girlfriend has been raped and killed, the rest of the gang are dispatched rather quickly. The kills alternate between realistically graphic and gory (the raped girlfriend gets scalped) and laughably fake (in one decapitation sequence, the head starts to fall off before the victim is hit).
Eventually the jock is killed off and only the trippy dippy hippy chick DJ is left. She's possessed and ready for action- action promised in the credits: COMING SOON! SCALPS II: THE RETURN OF DJ...a movie that never came to be. Given the bad taste Scalps left in my mouth, that's probably for the best. I give it 3 out of 10 well, I said something about its.
Oct 5, 2006
Day 5- Freddy Shmeddy
Wow! I can finally stop wringing my hands and lamenting that I’ve seen all the good slasher flicks that have ever been made! A little-known gem from the magical era known as the "early" "eighties", The Slayer (1982, from The Amanda Collection) made its way into my DVD player and then straight into my heart. It's renewed my faith that there are good movies I’ve yet to see…there are! There are, I tells ya, and I’m comin’ for ya, Elizabeth good movies, I’m comin’!
Sarah Kendall stars as Kay, one of those moody, fruity “artist types” who’s been plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams since childhood. Kay is convinced that the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality, and the thought is sending her rapidly down a spiral into depression. Her husband David (Alan McRae) decides that Kay needs a vacation before she goes off the deep end…and so along with Kay’s brother and sister-in-law, the couple heads to a barren island. Kay has seen the island and its few remaining buildings in her dreams- she’s painted pictures of them even- does this mean her ghastly nightmares will become to pass? Well, this is a horror movie, so one can assume that yes…yes they will.
Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA. Did I just type out “plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams” and “the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality”? What, you’re thinking, is this dude’s name Freddy Krueger by any chance?
The Slayer absolutely bears some resemblance in premise to A Nightmare on Elm Street, which would come down the pike 2 years later. The execution and tone differ between the two films enough, however, that we can all put down the pitchforks and douse the flaming effigy of Wes Craven. There’s no need to cry "ripoff", but you can totally feel like the coolest kid in the room when some yo-yo at a big fancy dinner party is going off on how bitchin’ Freddy Krueger is and how genius Wes Craven’s “don’t fall asleep” idea is and you bust out the “Pfft. JS Cardone and William Ewing totally came up with that idea YEARS before Craven ever did. What? You’ve never seen The Slayer? Don’t talk to me ever again!”. Then you can throw your drink in their face and walk away in a huff.
For a flick made on the cheap, The Slayer has plenty of atmosphere to spare. I was genuinely creeped out during every single kill sequence in the movie. The spooky sets are kept dark- just dark enough so you never know exactly what is making that tapping sound in the basement…
The gore is plentiful (but not turn-your-face-away over the top) and unsettlingly realistic. Composer Robert Folk’s score, recorded by the National Philharmonic Orchestra, is understated and helps add on the chills.
My biggest gripe with The Slayer is that I simply wish there were more of it; it clocks in at a quick 75 minutes. This is partly due to the fact that the cast is so small- Kay runs with a very tiny crowd. How long can it take to kill off four people? Overall, the acting was better than average, and it’s always refreshing to watch a horror movie that doesn’t rely on the stupidity of teenagers to provide tension- the characters, though mostly grating, are all adults.
As I stated earlier, there are definitely some similarities between The Slayer and the Nightmare series. Craven’s creation, however, has Freddy Krueger- a villain who forced his way, for better or for worse, into the consciousness of horror audiences and went on to become an icon of the genre. The villain of The Slayer is never clearly defined- just who is this guy? Is it even a guy? Does Kay really dream him into reality? Is Kay just a cuckoo nutso artist? Is this all her imagination? The film asks far more questions than it answers, and at the movie’s end we’re left wondering what’s what and who’s who. As for the nightmare man himself, that’s simply another question left unanswered. When we finally get a look at his gooey face (he’s wisely kept completely obscured throughout the proceedings), things become even more surreal…and yeah, he's kinda silly, but I just know that if I saw this dude when I was 10 I wouldn’t have slept for weeks. He is a nightmare come to life, after all.
The Slayer actually gave me the willies several times while watching it, and reminded me just how scary those things that go bump in the night can be. What more can I ask from a horror movie? I give it 8 out of 10 put that in your fedora and smoke it, Freddy- you chump!s.
Sarah Kendall stars as Kay, one of those moody, fruity “artist types” who’s been plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams since childhood. Kay is convinced that the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality, and the thought is sending her rapidly down a spiral into depression. Her husband David (Alan McRae) decides that Kay needs a vacation before she goes off the deep end…and so along with Kay’s brother and sister-in-law, the couple heads to a barren island. Kay has seen the island and its few remaining buildings in her dreams- she’s painted pictures of them even- does this mean her ghastly nightmares will become to pass? Well, this is a horror movie, so one can assume that yes…yes they will.
Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA. Did I just type out “plagued by a maniac stalking her dreams” and “the man from her nightmares will begin manifesting himself in reality”? What, you’re thinking, is this dude’s name Freddy Krueger by any chance?The Slayer absolutely bears some resemblance in premise to A Nightmare on Elm Street, which would come down the pike 2 years later. The execution and tone differ between the two films enough, however, that we can all put down the pitchforks and douse the flaming effigy of Wes Craven. There’s no need to cry "ripoff", but you can totally feel like the coolest kid in the room when some yo-yo at a big fancy dinner party is going off on how bitchin’ Freddy Krueger is and how genius Wes Craven’s “don’t fall asleep” idea is and you bust out the “Pfft. JS Cardone and William Ewing totally came up with that idea YEARS before Craven ever did. What? You’ve never seen The Slayer? Don’t talk to me ever again!”. Then you can throw your drink in their face and walk away in a huff.
For a flick made on the cheap, The Slayer has plenty of atmosphere to spare. I was genuinely creeped out during every single kill sequence in the movie. The spooky sets are kept dark- just dark enough so you never know exactly what is making that tapping sound in the basement…
The gore is plentiful (but not turn-your-face-away over the top) and unsettlingly realistic. Composer Robert Folk’s score, recorded by the National Philharmonic Orchestra, is understated and helps add on the chills.My biggest gripe with The Slayer is that I simply wish there were more of it; it clocks in at a quick 75 minutes. This is partly due to the fact that the cast is so small- Kay runs with a very tiny crowd. How long can it take to kill off four people? Overall, the acting was better than average, and it’s always refreshing to watch a horror movie that doesn’t rely on the stupidity of teenagers to provide tension- the characters, though mostly grating, are all adults.
As I stated earlier, there are definitely some similarities between The Slayer and the Nightmare series. Craven’s creation, however, has Freddy Krueger- a villain who forced his way, for better or for worse, into the consciousness of horror audiences and went on to become an icon of the genre. The villain of The Slayer is never clearly defined- just who is this guy? Is it even a guy? Does Kay really dream him into reality? Is Kay just a cuckoo nutso artist? Is this all her imagination? The film asks far more questions than it answers, and at the movie’s end we’re left wondering what’s what and who’s who. As for the nightmare man himself, that’s simply another question left unanswered. When we finally get a look at his gooey face (he’s wisely kept completely obscured throughout the proceedings), things become even more surreal…and yeah, he's kinda silly, but I just know that if I saw this dude when I was 10 I wouldn’t have slept for weeks. He is a nightmare come to life, after all.
The Slayer actually gave me the willies several times while watching it, and reminded me just how scary those things that go bump in the night can be. What more can I ask from a horror movie? I give it 8 out of 10 put that in your fedora and smoke it, Freddy- you chump!s.
Oct 4, 2006
Day 4- Mama...just killed a man...
I love the 1956 classic flick The Bad Seed.
No, really, I love The Bad Seed. Anyone who doesn't is a jerk.
I’ll get around to writing about it one of these days…I have this weird tendency not to write about my favorite movies because…well, I don’t know why. I always figure, like I said above, that I’ll “get around to it one of these days”. Maybe when I'm old and infirm, close to my deathbed. My helper monkey Otis can type as I dictate my thoughts on Killer Workout at long last.
Whilst perusing the ‘horror’ shelves at Ye Olde Videoe Store yesterday, wondering to myself if there was anything good and scary left out there or if it was all simply low-budget straight-to-video crap, I spotted Mommy (1995) and immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Don’t get me wrong- Mommy kind of IS low-budget straight-to-video crap, but I DON’T CARE.
This movie, you see, is an unofficial sequel to the aforementioned The Bad Seed and stars the bad seed herself, Patty McCormack. Couple this exciting news with my unabashed love of this horror/thriller sub-genre (see my Stepfather II review from last year's Shocktober!) and the only way I wasn't gonna love Mommy is if the DVD somehow turned into a deadly sawblade or something and started rolling around my house cutting up my cats and my prized Hummel collection. It didn’t, so don’t worry. Hot Cocoa is just fine, and so is Hummel Bells on High.
The she still looks awesome and I wish she was in every movie Patty McCormack stars as the unnamed, titular mommy of the precocious but praise Jebus not cloying Jessica Ann (Rachel Lemieux). Mommy sets about disposing of anyone standing in the way of her getting what she wants. That bitch teacher didn’t select Jessica Ann for Outstanding Student of the Year? So long, bitch teacher! Like any good psychopath, Mommy also “takes care” of any witnesses she may have left behind, like that white trash janitor who knows Mommy killed that bitch teacher and thought she was so big and totally threatened to tell the police.
Jessica Ann is no dummy, however, and very quickly realizes that Mommy might...be up to something. Something like killing! Everyone around her seems to die- including a line of wealthy “daddies”. Unfortunately for Jessica Ann, however, Mommy decides to go on the lam…and before she splits for good, she needs to take care of just one more loose end…
Writer/director Max Allan Collins (CSI, Road to Perdition) has crafted a fun little tribute to The Bad Seed that succeeds despite its ultra-low budget and noticeable lack of violence. The ‘kills’ are incredibly tame and there’s really no violence shown on screen, even though Mommy can do some major damage with her bare hands alone.
Collins utilizes absurdly dramatic lighting in places to bring out some cheeky humor- check out the way Mommy dispatches a jar of strawberries with those eeeevil hands!
Movies like Mommy succeed or fail based almost entirely on the performances of the leads- think of Terry O’Quinn’s fantastic performances in Stepfather and it's sequel, or Rebecca DeMornay’s icy nanny kill machine in The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. Because they’re folks capable of horrendous acts and will kill anyone in their immediate vicinity should the need arise but who seem totally normal when they're not...you know, killing, the lead actor or actress needs to be able to play "nice" and then turn psychotic on a dime…and it only works well if the actor or actress can keep the performance balanced right on the line between serious and campy. Patty McCormack proves she’s only gotten better at this type of role than she was 50 years ago playing sweet-n-psycho little Rhoda I’ll say it again, I wish she was in every movie.
McCormack is supported by a strong cast that includes Jason “Father Damien” Miller, B-Movie Queen Brinke Stevens, and Mickey “it’s Mickey frickin’ Spillane!” Spillane. In her screen debut as young Jessica Ann, Rachel Lemieux really holds her own. I need to track down Mommy 2 ASAP, I tells ya.
Keep my predisposition to seriously enjoy this type of flick in mind before you decide whether or not to give Mommy a chance. It’s a virtually violence-free cheapie thriller. Like I said, this simply doesn’t matter to me…but these…insightful comments from the IMDb boards will give you other opinions- quite the opposite opinions to mine- to chew on:
lequaietermaine: i think that this movie is quite possibly the worst movie that i have ever seen except perhaps for mommy 2. the murders in this movie are really quite pathetic i mean it is so utterly pathetic the way the first two people are killed. that old bat is pathetic. goodnite new york.
Anikan: yes you are quite right this is plain garbage
witty_pseudonym: I don't think this could have possible been worse. So cheap, so ludicrouse, there was not one positive to the whole film.
jeff-1250: I cannot even begin to describe how woeful this one is, well okay l'm reviewing it for an external site so guess l will be doing just that. Was it just my copy or is this movie too dark to actually see what's going down in places ?*
There you go, folks. I give it 6.5 out of 10 now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum…what might be right for you, may not be right for some! A man is born, he’s a man of means. Then along comes two, they got nothin’ but some dreams, but they got…diff’rent strokes. It takes diff’rent strokes to move the world! Everybody’s got a special kind of story…everybody finds a way to shine! It don’t matter that you got—not a lot! So what? They’ll have theirs, you’ll have yours and I’ll have mine…and together we’ll be fine! ‘Cause it takes…diff’rent strokes, it takes…diff’rent strokes…it takes…diff’rent strokes to move the world! MMMM!s.
*note: there is no "going down" anywhere in the film.
No, really, I love The Bad Seed. Anyone who doesn't is a jerk.
I’ll get around to writing about it one of these days…I have this weird tendency not to write about my favorite movies because…well, I don’t know why. I always figure, like I said above, that I’ll “get around to it one of these days”. Maybe when I'm old and infirm, close to my deathbed. My helper monkey Otis can type as I dictate my thoughts on Killer Workout at long last.Whilst perusing the ‘horror’ shelves at Ye Olde Videoe Store yesterday, wondering to myself if there was anything good and scary left out there or if it was all simply low-budget straight-to-video crap, I spotted Mommy (1995) and immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Don’t get me wrong- Mommy kind of IS low-budget straight-to-video crap, but I DON’T CARE.
This movie, you see, is an unofficial sequel to the aforementioned The Bad Seed and stars the bad seed herself, Patty McCormack. Couple this exciting news with my unabashed love of this horror/thriller sub-genre (see my Stepfather II review from last year's Shocktober!) and the only way I wasn't gonna love Mommy is if the DVD somehow turned into a deadly sawblade or something and started rolling around my house cutting up my cats and my prized Hummel collection. It didn’t, so don’t worry. Hot Cocoa is just fine, and so is Hummel Bells on High.
The she still looks awesome and I wish she was in every movie Patty McCormack stars as the unnamed, titular mommy of the precocious but praise Jebus not cloying Jessica Ann (Rachel Lemieux). Mommy sets about disposing of anyone standing in the way of her getting what she wants. That bitch teacher didn’t select Jessica Ann for Outstanding Student of the Year? So long, bitch teacher! Like any good psychopath, Mommy also “takes care” of any witnesses she may have left behind, like that white trash janitor who knows Mommy killed that bitch teacher and thought she was so big and totally threatened to tell the police.
Jessica Ann is no dummy, however, and very quickly realizes that Mommy might...be up to something. Something like killing! Everyone around her seems to die- including a line of wealthy “daddies”. Unfortunately for Jessica Ann, however, Mommy decides to go on the lam…and before she splits for good, she needs to take care of just one more loose end…
Writer/director Max Allan Collins (CSI, Road to Perdition) has crafted a fun little tribute to The Bad Seed that succeeds despite its ultra-low budget and noticeable lack of violence. The ‘kills’ are incredibly tame and there’s really no violence shown on screen, even though Mommy can do some major damage with her bare hands alone.
Collins utilizes absurdly dramatic lighting in places to bring out some cheeky humor- check out the way Mommy dispatches a jar of strawberries with those eeeevil hands!
Movies like Mommy succeed or fail based almost entirely on the performances of the leads- think of Terry O’Quinn’s fantastic performances in Stepfather and it's sequel, or Rebecca DeMornay’s icy nanny kill machine in The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. Because they’re folks capable of horrendous acts and will kill anyone in their immediate vicinity should the need arise but who seem totally normal when they're not...you know, killing, the lead actor or actress needs to be able to play "nice" and then turn psychotic on a dime…and it only works well if the actor or actress can keep the performance balanced right on the line between serious and campy. Patty McCormack proves she’s only gotten better at this type of role than she was 50 years ago playing sweet-n-psycho little Rhoda I’ll say it again, I wish she was in every movie.McCormack is supported by a strong cast that includes Jason “Father Damien” Miller, B-Movie Queen Brinke Stevens, and Mickey “it’s Mickey frickin’ Spillane!” Spillane. In her screen debut as young Jessica Ann, Rachel Lemieux really holds her own. I need to track down Mommy 2 ASAP, I tells ya.
Keep my predisposition to seriously enjoy this type of flick in mind before you decide whether or not to give Mommy a chance. It’s a virtually violence-free cheapie thriller. Like I said, this simply doesn’t matter to me…but these…insightful comments from the IMDb boards will give you other opinions- quite the opposite opinions to mine- to chew on:
lequaietermaine: i think that this movie is quite possibly the worst movie that i have ever seen except perhaps for mommy 2. the murders in this movie are really quite pathetic i mean it is so utterly pathetic the way the first two people are killed. that old bat is pathetic. goodnite new york.
Anikan: yes you are quite right this is plain garbage
witty_pseudonym: I don't think this could have possible been worse. So cheap, so ludicrouse, there was not one positive to the whole film.
jeff-1250: I cannot even begin to describe how woeful this one is, well okay l'm reviewing it for an external site so guess l will be doing just that. Was it just my copy or is this movie too dark to actually see what's going down in places ?*
There you go, folks. I give it 6.5 out of 10 now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum…what might be right for you, may not be right for some! A man is born, he’s a man of means. Then along comes two, they got nothin’ but some dreams, but they got…diff’rent strokes. It takes diff’rent strokes to move the world! Everybody’s got a special kind of story…everybody finds a way to shine! It don’t matter that you got—not a lot! So what? They’ll have theirs, you’ll have yours and I’ll have mine…and together we’ll be fine! ‘Cause it takes…diff’rent strokes, it takes…diff’rent strokes…it takes…diff’rent strokes to move the world! MMMM!s.
*note: there is no "going down" anywhere in the film.
Oct 3, 2006
Day 3- WHAT?
Well, they can’t ALL be gems in The Amanda Collection, now, can they? I guess I won't hold it against her. Like Meat Loaf says, "2 out of 3 something something".
Today’s flick, One Dark Night (1983; aka Night in the Crypt, aka Dark Night, aka Entity Force, aka Mausoleum, aka Night of Darkness, aka Rest in Peace, aka Moms Mabley and Her All-Star Jug Band), seems to have all the ingredients necessary to make a B-grade horror film for the ages. Sadly, the ingredients- Adam West, EG Daily, Meg Tilly, a creepy Phantasm-style mausoleum, satin jackets, and telekinesis- could barely muster enough thrills to merit being called D-grade.
Meg Tilly stars as Julie, your typical bookish ‘good girl’ type who wants to join a small group of "cool" kids called The Sisters. The Sisters is made up of the always-welcome EG Daily, a girl with an oral fixation who’s always chewing on a toothbrush, and Julie’s boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, aka the poor man’s Jenilee Harrison of television’s Three’s Company. I mean, who DOESN’T want to join a group like that, eh? Sure, on the one hand they’ve got matching satin jackets and that’s wicked sweet. On the other hand, however, they’ve got these pants, which are by far the most horrifying thing in the entire movie:
Why such high waists, ladies? I mean, those go far beyond even the high-waisted, gut-accentuating monstrosities known as “mom jeans” into “belt directly underneath the boobs” territory. Please note the helpful graphic I’ve created to emphasize the unnatural distance between waist and crotch. I hope to preserve this image in order to save future generations from such unflattering fashion trends.
The Sisters decide that if Julie really wants in the group, she must pass an initiation. In a…(ahem) sharp departure from horror film clichés, Julie’s initiation includes spending the night alone in a mausoleum. Even (ahem) more radical is The Sisters’ evil plan: to return to the mausoleum later in the night to scare Julie!
Little do they all know, the Russian psychic MalloMar Raymar was interred at the mausoleum earlier and is capable of using his deadly Russian telekinesis from beyond the grave. As the night wears on, the girls are running around the mausoleum, there are telekinetically-controlled corpses “floating” around, and Raymar himself puts in an appearance, looking like something you might find on the shelf at Spencers Gifts.
At this point, you may be thinking that One Dark Night sounds pretty bitchin’and I should quit thinking I'm so big and I should definitely lay off the crack pipe. And you know, in an alternate universe, you very well may be correct. Of course, I’m talking about an alternate universe where you are watching a complete cut of the film, not suffering through a director's rough cut as I did. I received an onscreen warning that I was about to watch a ‘rough cut’ and there was the potential for ‘imperfections’ throughout. Fancying myself one who lives on the edge, I said the hell with it! and continued on, thinking that a few rough edits here and there wouldn’t be a big deal. What I got, however, was a film largely without sound. Yeah, there was dialogue…but there was next to nil for music, long periods of silence, and no sound effects. This made it…uh…REALLY difficult to be excited about this movie. Jump scares simply aren’t effective when they’re fucking silent! Mood is difficult to establish without music, and the surprise of seeing Meg Tilly trip and fall is kind of LACKING when it’s prefaced by the director’s voice saying “Aaaannnnnd…fall!”
At one point during One Dark Night, I had an out of body experience. Suddenly I was floating high above my couch, watching myself watching the movie. Boy, did I look angry! I looked angry, and yet I also looked awful silly, watching a movie with no sound. I think at one point I heard myself exclaim “Why the fuck am I watching this?” and I saw myself flip off the screen with both middle fingers. Then I decided that while my body was clearly an idiot, my spirit was not and would be better off spending the time doing anything else in the whole entire world. Just as I was about to float over toward the bathroom and set about re-grouting the tub, however, the movie ended and I was able to rejoin my corporeal self. We had a Diet Coke together to help ease the pain and I promised not to make fun of myself for suffering so very much for a frickin' blog entry. I give this movie 2 out of 10 well, maybe with some fucking music and sound effects it would rate a 4 out of 10s.
Today’s flick, One Dark Night (1983; aka Night in the Crypt, aka Dark Night, aka Entity Force, aka Mausoleum, aka Night of Darkness, aka Rest in Peace, aka Moms Mabley and Her All-Star Jug Band), seems to have all the ingredients necessary to make a B-grade horror film for the ages. Sadly, the ingredients- Adam West, EG Daily, Meg Tilly, a creepy Phantasm-style mausoleum, satin jackets, and telekinesis- could barely muster enough thrills to merit being called D-grade.
Meg Tilly stars as Julie, your typical bookish ‘good girl’ type who wants to join a small group of "cool" kids called The Sisters. The Sisters is made up of the always-welcome EG Daily, a girl with an oral fixation who’s always chewing on a toothbrush, and Julie’s boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, aka the poor man’s Jenilee Harrison of television’s Three’s Company. I mean, who DOESN’T want to join a group like that, eh? Sure, on the one hand they’ve got matching satin jackets and that’s wicked sweet. On the other hand, however, they’ve got these pants, which are by far the most horrifying thing in the entire movie:
Why such high waists, ladies? I mean, those go far beyond even the high-waisted, gut-accentuating monstrosities known as “mom jeans” into “belt directly underneath the boobs” territory. Please note the helpful graphic I’ve created to emphasize the unnatural distance between waist and crotch. I hope to preserve this image in order to save future generations from such unflattering fashion trends.The Sisters decide that if Julie really wants in the group, she must pass an initiation. In a…(ahem) sharp departure from horror film clichés, Julie’s initiation includes spending the night alone in a mausoleum. Even (ahem) more radical is The Sisters’ evil plan: to return to the mausoleum later in the night to scare Julie!
Little do they all know, the Russian psychic 
At this point, you may be thinking that One Dark Night sounds pretty bitchin’and I should quit thinking I'm so big and I should definitely lay off the crack pipe. And you know, in an alternate universe, you very well may be correct. Of course, I’m talking about an alternate universe where you are watching a complete cut of the film, not suffering through a director's rough cut as I did. I received an onscreen warning that I was about to watch a ‘rough cut’ and there was the potential for ‘imperfections’ throughout. Fancying myself one who lives on the edge, I said the hell with it! and continued on, thinking that a few rough edits here and there wouldn’t be a big deal. What I got, however, was a film largely without sound. Yeah, there was dialogue…but there was next to nil for music, long periods of silence, and no sound effects. This made it…uh…REALLY difficult to be excited about this movie. Jump scares simply aren’t effective when they’re fucking silent! Mood is difficult to establish without music, and the surprise of seeing Meg Tilly trip and fall is kind of LACKING when it’s prefaced by the director’s voice saying “Aaaannnnnd…fall!”At one point during One Dark Night, I had an out of body experience. Suddenly I was floating high above my couch, watching myself watching the movie. Boy, did I look angry! I looked angry, and yet I also looked awful silly, watching a movie with no sound. I think at one point I heard myself exclaim “Why the fuck am I watching this?” and I saw myself flip off the screen with both middle fingers. Then I decided that while my body was clearly an idiot, my spirit was not and would be better off spending the time doing anything else in the whole entire world. Just as I was about to float over toward the bathroom and set about re-grouting the tub, however, the movie ended and I was able to rejoin my corporeal self. We had a Diet Coke together to help ease the pain and I promised not to make fun of myself for suffering so very much for a frickin' blog entry. I give this movie 2 out of 10 well, maybe with some fucking music and sound effects it would rate a 4 out of 10s.
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