Day 10: DARKNESS (2002)

"Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Is it better? I'm not so sure. After all, if you've never loved anyone, you don't really know what you've missed. You live day to day without regretting or missing or pining or loathing the past. You don't wait for "the next" and compare him or her to "the last." You just sort of exist–but is your life truly lesser for it if you're ignorant as to what "it" is and what it feels like? I suppose Tennyson is saying yes, that even mucking about in the pits of despair is better than not doing that, for the despair is what lets you know you're a human and not, say, a rock. It's like bringing a dog or a cat into your life: we all know by know that they are just tragedies waiting to happen, timebombs ticking away to heartbreak. "I have, at most, about 20 years with you until you're gone and then I have to deal with you not being around anymore and what that feels like." It all comes down to those 20 years, right? Whether or not they're good enough to make the eventual enduring of the crushing blows of mortality worth it?

Okay, before I suck you into the temporal vortex of my ongoing existential crisis, let me assure you, this all super vaguely ties into Darkness, a rather forgettable Dimension Films film! You see, when Darkness was over, I says to meself, I says: "Hmm, I wonder, is it better to have loved the last five minutes of this slog of a movie than to have hated it all the way through?" Those last five minutes were a teasing glimpse of what we could have had together! Had those minutes not existed, I could have written Darkness off entirely...but now I'm saddled with the crippling knowledge* of what could have been.

*By "crippling knowledge" I mean "the brief thought: 'dang, that movie woulda been better if it had more of the last five minutes and less of the everything before that last five minutes. Also, let's be real here: in a year, if someone brings up Darkness I'll say 'Yeah, I saw that' and my brain, having purged nearly everything about it to make room for something else, will react with but a whiff of disappointment."

A family moves into home that used to be an orphanage or something maybe, I don't know, there were some kids there and six of the seven kids were killed for some Satanic ritual to bring about the "Darkness" but because the seventh kid lived the ritual failed and the dad of the family is the surviving kid all grown up and it's time for the ritual again because there's an eclipse coming.

There, that's the gist of it, and it sounds pretty good, right? I'm all about a Satanic ritual! But aye yi yi, Darkness takes forever in the getting there. I don't mean it's some slow burn–I'm all about a slow burn! No, rather this movie likes to tell rather than show, so it's largely a bunch of people talking in circles at each other...which might be fine if not for the truly fucking leaden performances. It's time for me to come clean: look, I just don't get Anna Paquin. Yeah, I know she won an Oscar when she was a baby or twelve or whatever, and sure, The Piano, as I remember it, is good. But since then, I don't really get how she has a flourishing career. Her facial expression never changes and she rarely makes eye contact with her fellow actors and everything is sort of mumbly and monotonous, and it's like she's more an actor computer program from Looker than a real human who actually won an Oscar that one time. I don't know, maybe she's great in things I've yet to see, but here she is like a big loaf of Wonder Bread taking up space.

But really, everyone is sort of Wonder Bread-y in that they're lifeless, even when yelling really loud. Everyone is awful in their own way, and the idea that these four people constitute a "family" is ludicrous. Dysfunction is fine, nuclear families are fine...but they don't relate to each other as anything beyond "four strangers in a house"; there's more warmth and familiarity, in fact, between "seven strangers in a house" on the first episode of any season of The Real World.

So overall, a huge disappointment. I was hoping for some hidden gem, particularly since Darkness was written and directed by Jaume Balagueró, who gave the world my beloved [REC]. Well, at least the last five minutes was pretty good. Tis better than the whole thing stinking...or is it? Ah, my existential crisis is flaring up again. Damn you, SHOCKtober!

Day 9: A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT (2014)

I've been trying to suss out my feelings regarding A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night and it's tough, man, it's tough. "Mildly disappointed and slightly misled coupled with a dash of 'aw, dang' but I still enjoyed it and gosh it was pretty" is the best I can do to sum it up. Everything about this movie was so damn intriguing. The Girl (Sheila Vand) is a captivating figure as she stalks the dark streets, her pale face striking in her black chador. The film was touted as the "first Iranian vampire western", which...come on! Who doesn't want to see that? Yeah, it's Iran by way of southern California (Taft is a stand-in for the fictional Bad City), and while I'm not sure exactly what I expected regarding the "western" bit, but I thought it would translate to something beyond a Morricone-esque soundtrack.

At least the "vampire" part is true. The Girl does indeed sprout fangs and make with the bite-bite on occasion. There are also figurative vampires who suck the life and souls from everyone around them...why, there's even a plastic-fanged imitation Dracula. It's a metaphor-riddled quasi-horror film more than a straight bloodsucker flick though, closer kin to Abel Ferrara's The Addiction (1995) than Nosferatu. There are strains of Let the Right One In here, too, in the central love story that explores how far a young man will go in his devotion to a monster. Unfortunately, the relationship between The Girl and her suitor Arash (Arash Marandi) lacks passion of any kind...and you know, that's sort of my problem with the film as a whole. It's gorgeous. Stunning, even. Bad City is an interesting, if unexplored place; the glimpses we get of its freaky inhabitants and...uh, the ravine full of bodies...call to mind some kind of David Lynch city/circus of the damned. Ultimately, though, the entire affair comes off as cold and lifeless as The Girl herself. I like a sense of mystery–we learn nothing about our protagonist beyond her apparent affection for pop music–but the framework surrounding that mystery is too thin to support it.

All that said, I look forward to whatever writer/director Ana Lily Amirpour cooks up next, because A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night certainly has a lot going for it. "I wanted more from it" ain't a bad complaint to have.

(Side note: this was the real star of the film. A++ kitty acting for sure!)

Day 8: ALL CHEERLEADERS DIE (2013)

"Crazy wicca bullshit."

I knew nothing about All Cheerleaders Die before giving it the good ol' fashioned SHOCKtober go (which sounds a lot hotter than it is, trust me). Wait, that's not true: I knew it was co-written and co-directed by fan fave Lucky McKee, but that didn't get me all excited because I didn't dig May (2002) (holy shit, 2002? that came out in 2002?? how fucking old am I? *turns to dust*) as much as most people. I mean, yeah, I liked it. Of course I liked it! Anna Faris and Angela Bettis are in it, and so is the dude who played Elton in Clueless, and as we all know, Clueless rules. I just mean that everyone seems to hump May's leg, and I'm like, well I could hump it, but I've seen better legs. You know how it is. The point is, I thought this was going to be some postmodern slasher movie or something because nobody seems to be humping All Cheerleaders Die's leg, so I hadn't bothered to read up on it. Turns out, this is not a slasher flick, postmodern or otherwise. It also turns out that I loved this movie so much, why isn't everybody humping its leg??

Look, this imdb.com summary does a really good job of, you know, summarizing the plot:

A rebel girl signs up a group of cheerleaders to help her take down the captain of their high school football team, but a supernatural turn of events thrusts the girls into a different battle.

But there is so much waiting for you to discover, as All Cheerleaders Die goes to unexpected and delightful places. It reminded me of two other films that I heart oh so very hard: Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II and The Convent. All three movies have humor, sure, but more than that there's a kind of glee running through them. They are goofy and dorky and take their non-seriousness very seriously. The FX are generally fakey-looking, but it doesn't matter. All Cheerleaders Die is the tamest, least sort-of-gonzo of the trio, but it's a good time just the same. They're fun. And sometimes fun is fun! Yes, even when it's mixed with horror.

All Cheerleaders Die has a lot of the charms that make up the charm bracelet of my life and the things I love: supernatural horror, witches, lesbian witches, clearly defined "bad guys", the simple guilt-free catharsis you sometimes get from revenge movies, and more. The end of the film left room for a sequel–quite literally, in fact, as a title screen called this "Part One." While yesterday I didn't know All Cheerleaders Die from a hole in my head, now everything has changed and I hope that "Part One" business wasn't just a joke because let me tell you, I'm humping Part Two's leg already!

Day 7: MANIAC (2012)

It's been 35 years since Maniac was released, but the film's notorious reputation clings to it still. Its explicit, hateful violence continues to shock even the most jaded horror fans; it's a wholly repellent movie that–while undoubtedly deserving of its place in the genre's hallowed halls–is perhaps more appreciated than enjoyed. I can't say I was surprised when the remake was announced, as every movie in the history of ever is up for grabs as far as that goes. But, with a finger on my chin and a faraway look in my eye, I certainly wondered: would it be as hardcore as the original? And what of the casting of this so called "Elijah" "Wood"–could he sweat and mumble enough to make an adequate replacement for Joe Spinell, or would his Frank be something else entirely?

Well, let's get this out of the way: Maniac '12 is French, so yeah, it's pretty hardcore. If you're looking for gore and violence, it's as typically stomach-churning as most other horror films hailing from that country. As for the rest of it...

Frank is a part-time restorer of antique mannequins and a part-time maniac. He stalks women he sees on the street, or women he picks up through an online dating service...just basically any woman who catches his eye. It's not long before Frank's copious mommy issues rise to the surface and he moves from stalking the women to butchering, taking their scalps and clothing as a prize. Back home, he puts the matted, bloodied scalps on clothes on the mannequins and talks to them as if they were real women. Soon he meets Anna (Nora Arnezeder), a pretty photographer who wants to use Frank's mannequins–the ones in the front of the shop, natch–in a gallery project. They strike up a friendship, but how long can Frank keep his serial killer urges in check?

Make no mistake: this isn't some dopey slasher flick where a masked psycho offs teenagers for regressions real or imagined. Maniac is about the violence perpetrated against women on the regular. It's a cautionary tale that plays on the fears nearly every woman accepts as a part of life: don't go home with that nice guy you met on the dating site. Don't walk home alone, especially after dark. It reinforces every "don't" that women are taught ("I warned you not to go out tonight.") if they want to stay safe. There are maniacs out there, and they often seem harmless, like Frank does. Maybe you'll have dinner with him first. Maybe he'll stare at you on the subway and then follow you home. Maybe he's hiding under your car. Maybe he's your friend. Beware, ladies! The danger is real.

As I noted in my review of 1980's Maniac, I don't think that a movie about misogyny is always misogynist in and of itself. It's the approach to the subject matter employed by the remake and not necessarily the subject matter itself that I found severely lacking. In both versions, Frank is a victim of abuse at the hands of his mother, which renders him unable to relate to women on a level of basic humanity. It's a horror tale as old as Psycho, and I don't know, I guess I'm a bit over the "castrating mother" trope...or, again, the way it's used in Maniac '12, which is shot in the first-person view for most of its runtime. We're forced to see the world through Frank's eyes, to somehow identify with him, which...well, why force the audience to do that? Is it just to make us uncomfortable? That's a thing, I guess. Was it simply a "Hey, let's do the opposite of what they did in the original version!"? That's a thing, too. In 1980, first-person perspective was also used, but generally in order to see through the eyes of the victims. We saw tables turn as this unremarkable man suddenly became a maniac, and not only was it was a more terrifying technique from a "horror movie" perspective, but it made us empathize with the women, not the killer.

Although we did empathize with Frank in 1980, too. He sickened himself with his behavior and was tortured by his demons. They hint at this in the remake, going so far as to give us a literal vomit scene after Frank kills his date, but again...the first-person P.O.V. gets in the way. We never see Frank as a normal, average guy the way Anna does because we're relegated to glimpses of him every once in a while in a mirror, only seeing Frank staring blankly at himself. Sure, he hems and haws and gets headaches which make the camera go blurry, but ultimately it doesn't come across as anything more than a gimmick.

While the film didn't work for me overall, I would like to give a shoutout to the hardest working extras in Maniac '12: the green Bath and Body Works-looking hand soap and lotion who showed up in nearly every apartment in Los Angeles.

Day 6: OMEN III: THE FINAL CONFLICT (1981)

"Liquidate the Nazarene."

Just lie back and think of Heaven

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzwhaHUH? Oh, sorry. Guess I must have dozed off whilst trying to make it through this interminable slog of a film. A trilogy following the life of Damien Thorn from his cherubic childhood to his time as a prep school punk to his adult life as an ambassador and head of a corporation sure seems like a good idea. By the time Omen III: The Final Conflict came about, though, that idea had run completely out of steam. Who knew that the ascendancy of the Antichrist would be so friggin' dull?

Though he's in his thirties now, things haven't changed much from the time Damien was a boy. He's still got a Rottweiler and minions who do his bidding. He's still waiting to bring Hell to Earth and claim his place as leader, or as the leader's son, or...look, it's a little vague. But it'll be bad! And that's why a bunch of priests wave around sacred knives and try to stop him. Prophecy this, stars lining up that, ho hum. You've seen it all before, from the closeups of eyes both canine and human to the frightened grey-haired dudes who pull their trench coats tighter and cast furtive glances behind them as they scuttle away from creepy feelings, it's...you know. The Omen. Cue the hosanna-laden bombastic score.

It's a franchise that always seems to be classier than it actually is, thanks to its self-serious tone and formidable actors, but its trashy, lurid side is never too far from the surface; the shocking moments in the original film are still, well, shocking. The Final Conflict has a few memorable scenes for sure–I mean, one of Damien's schemes involves wiping out any baby that could possibly be the second coming of Christ–but these scenes are too few and too far between the copious minutes spent with either Good or Evil as they fret.

Surprisingly, the obvious political allegory is left to wither on the vine. The President brushes aside the laws that don't suit Damien's desire to be an ambassador and a UN council head and a corporate chairman, but then it's all dropped. For all the running time (this shit clocks in at almost two hours) and use of the word "machinations", there's virtually no political machinations to speak of and it seems like a missed opportunity. Maybe now would be a good time to remake this movie, particularly if–Charles Nelson Reilly forbid–Donald Trump ends up in the Oval Office. Hmm, maybe those knife-wielding priests were onto something. Someone check the back of Trump's head for the telltale birthmark!

Day 5: ASMODEXIA (2014)

While horror fans complain about–and indulge in–the endless zombie movies released over the last few years, another subgenre has quietly flooded the market: the exorcism movie. Where the frig did they all come from, and how did we never notice that they were massing? From high budget, mainstream efforts with stars you recognize (such as The Possession) to bargain bin indies, it seems that lately, possession is the new black. It's a veritable glut, I tells ya. Not that I'm complaining! I love an exorcism movie, the grosser the better. Yeah, they're rapidly approaching dime-a-dozen land, and–okay, they're already there. I've seen plenty of efforts that think a good possession flick only requires some girl contorting in a bed while foaming at the mouth and going "rarrrr!" but...wait, were those horror movies I was watching? With titles like Beyond the Back Door, I guess you can't really tell.

Anyway, my point is, I was both excited and not at all excited about Asmodexia. I can't help but look forward to a movie that features exorcisms, but the ratings for this one are pretty low and the "cover" on Netflix is exactly the kind of Photoshopped monstrosity that I loathe. (I know, I know, I should get over them but it's taking time because I just HATE THEM SO MUCH.) My hopes weren't high, but my secret hopes sure were, if you know what I mean.

I don't want to keep you in suspense any longer about this movie and my feelings toward it, so let me sum up for you how it went whilst I watched:

"Hmm, okay...yehhh, alright...oh, I like that...what's going on?...wait, this is pretty cool...I'm digging this, I think?...I'm digging this!...fuck yeah!...hey, I really liked that."

When you dig a movie way more than the masses seem to, it could make you wonder if you have low standards. If you're me, however, you wonder why the rest of the world has such bad taste.

As a clock ticks down to an event called "The Resurrection," a rash of demonic possessions sweeps through Barcelona, and it's up to door-to-door exorcism salesman Eloy (Lluís Marco) and his granddaughter Alba (Clàudia Pons) to stop them. As the end of the Mayan calendar and the Resurrection approach, the temperature rises and patients at a local institution are all worked up in a demonic frenzy. One of them, Ona (Irene Montalà) is an accused witch...but she may also be the only one who knows what's up and is capable of stopping it.

You, too, may figure out what's up fairly early on, but you won't know how it's all gonna shake out. What I'm saying is that Asmodexia manages to be glaringly obvious and maddeningly obtuse, often simultaneously. Perhaps this is where the low ratings come in–very often I found myself wondering how things tied together and where the movie was going, even though I totally knew where it was going. That sort of thing can be frustrating as a viewer, but I was so into this movie that it didn't bother me a bit. It pushed so many of my horror cinema buttons–possession, witches, mysterious hooded figures, shiny happy religious cults, doomsday cults, Satanism–that I was firmly on board for the ride. For all the secrets and mystery throughout, Asmodexia wraps up rather quickly. If you're not on board, those last 10 minutes may not be worth the wait...but I guess it depends on whether or not you've got good taste.

Day 4: WES CRAVEN'S NEW NIGHTMARE (1994)

Ah, 1994. The best of times in fashion for sure, as it was the times of vests, plum-colored lipstick, and McDonald's golden arches-looking hair on guys. As for horror movies, however, it was the worst of times. 1994 brought us tepid sequels of tepid original films (okay, sure, I love Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings) and some of those weirdly neutered "Hollywood" horror movies, you know, like Kenneth Branagh's Frankenstein. Who was that supposed to appeal to? And then, out of nowhere, comes Wes Craven's New Nightmare, a so-meta-it-will-blow-your-mind entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise. Well, it's not an entry in the franchise exactly; it sort of sits outside the franchise and points at it and comments on it, like a Statler and Waldorf unto itself.

It turns out, you see, that the 1991 film Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare wasn't final at all ("I know that feeling!" - Friday the 13th Part IV); instead, "killing" Freddy in the movie merely severed the ties that bound his evil force to fictional worlds. Free from the constraints of the screen, Freddy manifests in the real world and terrorizes those who helped bring him to life in the first place: actors Heather Langenkamp, Robert Englund, and writer/director Wes Craven. The original film gradually converges with reality, and much as Nancy Thompson battled the child killer in her dreams a decade earlier in A Nightmare on Elm Street, so must Langenkamp face off against him again.

Yes, it's as goddamned clever as it sounds. New Nightmare is many things: a commentary on actors forever linked with a role, the effects of horror on audiences and children (won't someone think of the children?), the effects of horror on the people who create it, the propensity of audiences to idolize the killers, and more. While it is, by its nature, as self-referential as a film can possibly be, it doesn't play like a deconstruction or rulebook along the lines of Scream, another Wes Craven work that revitalized the slasher genre two years after New Nightmare.

The numerous callbacks to A Nightmare on Elm Street are entirely welcome and well done, not the elbow-to-the-ribs get it? wink wink references they could have been. They're not there exclusively so audiences will say "Hey, I remember that!", à la virtually every joke on your average episode of Family Guy. They can be read as loving nods, sure, or–if you're feeling less generous–examples of filmmakers being burdened by their past work, unable to move on. Of course, while Langenkamp comments in the film that Craven has moved on from horror, he opines that they never should have killed Freddy. (And again, Scream was right around the corner. Craven clearly loved the genre even if his scholarly past likely had him questioning it from time to time.)

Proving as fearless as Nancy Thompson, Heather Langenkamp also descends into Freddy's world of nightmares to get shit done and take him out. My heart grew three sizes when she let out a vicious "Fuck you!" and hauled off and clocked the burnt-faced pussy. As we all know, however, even the best of the Final Girls can't keep a horror icon down for long. And as the late, great, Mr. Craven noted, maybe we shouldn't. After all...evil never dies.

see what I mean

SHOCKtober: The Week to Come

Listen y'all, I ain't got the whole month of watchings all planned out, but I did put my brain on overdrive to come up with the next week's viewings if you can't handle living life by the speed of your pants. Without any more ado, here are the movies and the days I'll be talkin' 'bout said movies, Willis:

Monday, 10/5 - ASMODEXIA (2014)
Tuesday, 10/6 - OMEN III: THE FINAL CONFLICT (1981) (fuck yeah, 1981)
Wednesday 10/7 - MANIAC (2012)
Thursday 10/8 - ALL CHEERLEADERS DIE (2013)
Friday 10/9 - A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT (2014)
Saturday 10/10 - DARKNESS (2002)
Sunday 10/11 - DEVIL SEED (2012)

S'gonna be a good week! Although this month's experiment is a good way for me to catch up on newer movies, I do wish Netflix had some older titles I've yet to see. All the ones that were on my list mysteriously vanished at the beginning of the month. Hmm, maybe they were dead the whole time!

Day 3: BABY BLUES (2013)

An example of the superior baby acting found in this movie

Although James Wan floods the market and tries his best to turn me off of killer doll movies, my love for them is too strong and my will is too weak; in short, I am a sucker for them. So when I fired up Baby Blues last night and realized that the film hails from China...well, I was psyched. Asian horror and a killer doll? Those are two of my favorite tastes and surely they must taste great together. Surely they must. Surely. I was sure.

And man, was I wrong! Baby Blues suffers greatly from an identity crisis of sorts: it dabbles in several subgenres but doesn't commit to any in a truly impactful way. The result is a mish-mosh story that goes everywhere and nowhere. And also it's just plain, you know, not very good.

Young marrieds Hao and Tian Qing move into a beautiful house despite the fact that the homeless man across the street warns them away. The house is evil! And so is the weird doll left behind by the previous tenants! Probably! The couple is undeterred, however, and for a while things are great. Tian Qing continues writing her successful blog, while record producer Hao gets the opportunity to write a new song for a popular singer named Bobo. (According to a poster in the record label headquarters, one of Bobo's previous hits was called "Kiss My Leg", and that song title is my new everything. Perhaps it was the lost theme from Witchery...?)

Soon Tian Qing is pregnant with twins, hooray! Everything is still great. Sadly, one of the twins is stillborn, but this doesn't register with the new mother, who breaks from reality and treats the creepy doll like her second newborn son. But the doll is evil! Kind of.

It all sounds simple enough, sure, but Baby Blues is all over the fucking place. It plays with the "killer song" idea as Bobo nearly dies after listening to Hao's tune (as did I–it was smooth jazz! *shudder*), but the idea is dropped. The time-tested "new mom flips out" genre is represented but not given enough room to really breathe. The house itself isn't evil at all. And the doll...is sort of possessed? Maybe? We learn a bit about its origin, but its motivations aren't clear–and yes, I realize that saying a killer doll's motivations aren't clear enough seems ridiculous, but this is the world I live in as a horror fan.

Baby Blues just doesn't know what it wants to be. I could forgive that, however, if it wasn't so bad. At times it straddles the line between "serious attempt" and "deliberate camp", and I found myself unable to decide if it was trying to be some kind of comedy. How else to explain the egregious use of terrible, over-the-top computer effects? (Gawd, so much computer.) Or the egregious use of a wig–one that always seemed on the verge of falling off–on Tian Qing for the second half of the film? What of the living twin baby, who was dropped from a second story window, held on mom's lap in the front seat of a car, and, at one point, tossed into the air like something out of a Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker production? Or the scene where the tiny doll tries to nudge the baby into the pool using his little doll feet? WHAT ARE YOU, BABY BLUES?

Ultimately, I doubt that the filmmakers had enough self-awareness for this to be anything but a genuine attempt at horror and as such it's an abject failure. Ugh, that is so painful to say! It hurts me in my heart place to say such terrible things about a movie that heavily features a bad wig and a killer doll. It's like I don't know what to believe anymore.

Tomorrow's movie: Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994) - let's class this joint up a little and mourn the recent loss of a horror legend.

SHOCKtober bonus track: Halloween candy ranked

It has been some time since I have gone trick or treating, but man, I still should because it's just such a great idea: put on a mask and demand candy from your neighbors! What's not to like about that? And while sure, free candy is the best candy and there's "no such thing as a bad gift," I think we can all agree that there is, in fact, a hierarchy of candy. As my gift to you, here is the INDISPUTABLE ranking from worst to best. Print it out and keep it in your pocket!

"Nature's Candy" aka FRUIT

Don't even try with this healthy shit. Apples are for any day besides October 31st! Even if they didn't fly in the face of everything that is good and proper with regards to the All Hallows spirit, are you crazy? You think I'm going to bite into this? Please, I've seen Halloween II.

CANDY BUTTONS

Is this a joke? Because I don't like jokes. This is the absolute worst candy. It looks like a mistake, like they were cleaning the nozzles on the machines that squirt out some superior candy, and some fat cat at Big Candy was like "Hey, that's still candy. Fuck it, let's sell it!" Seriously, the paper sticks to them because they're basically just garbage. Get this shit away from me and count yourself lucky if I don't come back to burn your house down after you try to put this shit in my plastic pumpkin. Anyone who buys or enjoys candy buttons is an asshole, THE END.

CIRCUS PEANUTS

Just call them by their real name, "SATAN'S TESTICLES." Don't go near these abominations.

DUM DUMS

What am I, Kojak? So gross, and then I have to deal with the stick when I'm done. I don't need my candy to be a hundred-step process, just let me cram it in my mouth and be done with it. (Yes, that is what she said.) The root beer ones are the only ones that are passable, and they will be the last thing left at the bottom of the plastic pumpkin. So you reach in, thinking YES I have some candy left, and you pull out a fucking Dum-Dum. The disappointment is crushing–it proves Halloween is well and truly over and you have, like, a bunch of days to wait for the next one.

MARY JANES

What in the depression era shoe leather-looking HELL are these things? These are some Dust Bowl treats for sure, and...wait, these are actually kind of good.

TIE: WHOPPERS AND REESES PIECES

Now we're talking. Thank you for giving me these instead of wasting my time!

CANDY CORNS

YES, "CORNS." Look, candy corns are actually kind of gross but they are also delicious and you have to have them at this time of year. They are like a horror fan's communion wafers! Still, though, if you try to give me the ones with the brown instead of the yellow I will throw them in you face so BEWARE.

MOUNDS

Besides the corns, this is the only candy that is needed. It has been scientifically proven! I can't find the link right now, but you should trust me, I read it.

Day 2: ATM (2012)

The first time I read about ATM I thought "By golly, that sounds dopey." In the ensuing months, no one was talking about how it was surprisingly really great. No one has ever recommended that I watch it. So why, then, after a stellar SHOCKtober Day One would I opt for something that would likely be garbage at best? Because, you guys, I have been dying to see this. DYING TO I SAY. To me, ATM is the equivalent of, like, a 70 pound baby. A 70 pound baby?! No way! Where? I want to get a look at it. Oh. Huh, yeah, that's...that's a 70 pound baby all right. Look at it just lying there.

And so: a movie where people are forced to remain in an ATM kiosk and not let it drop below 50mph or else they will die?! This conceit is kept up through the whole film? No way! Where? I want to get a look at it.

I just...had to see how this would be done. I wanted to know how many times help would be right there, but oh no the killer is right behind you! Behind you! WHAT I CAN'T HEAR YOU! Behind you! Oh no, the help is dead! (SPOILER: that happens 1.5 times.) I wanted to know how many of them would decide FUCK IT and run for help and not make it for some reason, death or otherwise. (SPOILER: that happens 2 times.) I wanted to know how many times the situation would make stress levels rise SO HIGH that the little group would be on the verge of tearing itself apart. (SPOILER: that happens 1 time.) I simply had to see this 70 pound baby.

The action doesn't begin at the ATM, but rather in the high-rise offices of a banking firm. Yes, our protagonists are investment bankers! This really excited me because I can't think of anything I'd rather do than watch a movie about attractive, young, straight, white investment bankers. Okay, there's one thing I'd rather do, and that one thing is pound nails into my eyes. But just my luck, I'm all out of nails. That's a good thing, though, because it turns out that the three investment bankers are actually incredibly interesting:

• one is the douchey one; if you couldn't tell this by his pomaded hair, then you'd be able to tell by the way he talks about women and the way he insults men by comparing them to women because women are the worst
• one is the nice one, who feels bad about the way his job makes him sometimes, like, totally fuck over the working class by wiping out their savings
• one is a girl

So there you go, a truly diverse group. Anyway, the douchey one's insistently douchey behavior leads the three to an ATM kiosk at one in the morning and once inside...a menacing man in a parka shows up in the parking lot and he...menaces them. He kills an innocent bystander walking his dog nearby–honestly, the good doggie acting is probably the highlight of ATM–and so the investment bankers are like, if he killed that guy, he'll kill us, too! And thus they are forced to remain inside the little glass cube as the temperature drops and the man continues to menace them.

Who is the mysterious menace? Is he an investment customer who lost his life savings thanks to these assholes? Is he a random wackadoo? Is he the spirit of Occupy Wall Street manifesting in weather-appropriate gear like a vengeful manitou for the 99%? Late in the movie, The Girl philosophizes that it's just, like, fate, you know? How you make a million little decisions in your life only to end up menaced in an ATM kiosk in the wee hours. 

Yes, ATM really makes you think. All those little decisions you make in your life, only to end up watching ATM in the wee hours. And you may ask yourself...where does that highway go to? And you may ask yourself...am I right? Or am I wrong? And you may tell yourself...my God! What have I done?!

I suppose, however, that I was "entertained." I laughed frequently at the sheer ridiculousness of the entire thing, and I admit that I did want to see how it all turned out. I mean, you can't get mad at the 70 pound baby when you see it and it just lies there–what did you expect? And so I can't get mad at ATM for being as mind-bogglingly stupid as I figured it would be. You do you, ATM. You do you.

"I'm like...way scared right now."

Tomorrow's movie: Baby Blues (2013) - you had me at "sinister-looking doll"!

Day 1: STARRY EYES (2014)

"I am not a million other girls."

As someone who has done a fuck ton of theater, I have been on both sides of the table at an audition plenty of times. Each side is wonderful and excruciating. Everyone can imagine what it's like for an actor. You might be there for a cold reading, or maybe you've had time to rehearse. You could perform a scene from the show you're auditioning for, or you could bust out some monologue you've been working on forever. Regardless, you've got a few minutes (if you're lucky) to impress, then you're out the door.

Honestly, though, I found the other side of the table more difficult. Face after eager, hopeful face, doing whatever they can to get your approval, to be The One you cast. The ever-so-expensive headshots with poses chosen according to the audition; is it a comedy? Best to provide a picture where you're making a very slightly wacky face–a crooked smile, a wryly raised eyebrow–so they know you can be quirky and funny. Trying out for a lawyer role? Use the one where you're in a blazer, maybe wearing glasses with your hair up in a Sensible Bun so they know you can portray someone who can say things like "Habeus corpus, Your Honor!" or what-the-fuck-ever. Then on to the next, and to the next, and the next. I remember one time, an actor "just happened" to have a box of donuts with him, no really, he just stopped, and wouldn't we like to have some, he'll just leave them right there on the table, please, they're very good?

It was all that hope, my heart couldn't really take it. I mean, I loved it in that soul-crushing way, you know? These people, all trying. Whatever their true motivations were, however noble or superficial–whether they simply loved the creative process or they just wanted to tell stories or they only wanted to see their face on the cover of People magazine–whatever, they were putting themselves out there, hoping to be picked. I couldn't help but wonder about them all, where they'd end up. Some might go on to be regular working actors, on stage or on screen. There was always a chance they could end up FAMOUS. But for so many, there would likely come that moment where they say "Well, I tried." They would stop with the auditioning, they wouldn't get new headshots, acting would become a dream of the past. Sometimes they would go on to better things, to a career they're more suited for, a life more fulfilling. But that moment...I love making theater, I love love love it, but that moment is too much for me to think about every time someone walks into the room. I decided that I would rather find my own Dreamlanders and make my own shit forever than take a chance that someone would ever try to give me a box of donuts again.

I'm telling you all this because man, it all came flooding back to me last night whilst watching Starry Eyes, wherein hopeful actress Sarah (Alex Essoe) goes to...let's say extreme lengths in her bid for fame and fortune. "Dreams require sacrifice," says the mysterious and powerful film producer. When hard work and talent aren't enough, how far will Sarah go to prove she's worthy of a leading role? (SPOILER: she does more than bring the guy a box of donuts.)

Some of you suggested in the comments here that I'd love this movie and guess what: HOLY SHIT DID I. Starry Eyes begins as a slow burn character study and ends up a violent, super gory, body horror-flavored look at the price of fame and the history of Hollywood. It's like someone took some of the themes of Mulholland Dr., the movie that Contracted wanted to be (or should have been), a tiny dab of Suspiria, some actresses and other Los Angelenos I have known, and a splash of '80s-inspired soundtrack goodness and blended it all up. Alex Essoe gives a hell of a performance, the gore is insane, and it's a wholly original take on timeless legends on acquiring both fame and talent. I don't want to spoil anything! But it's highly recommended. SHOCKtober can only be downhill from here!

And just to prove that's true: tomorrow's film is ATM. I sure hope it brings me some donuts!

'Tis the season

Kids, the best time of the year is finally upon us, huzzah! Horror movies available for cheap at the grocery store, skulls on sale at CVS, I have exchanged my summer gramma slippers for my winter gramma slippers, and I'm about to bust out the totally spooky red font, so pull up your pants, my friends: yeah SHOCKtober! Thursday marks the beginning of a month-long celebration here at Final Girl and also at every other site on the internet. But will those other sites have...movie reviews??

Probably most of them will. SIGH.

But here is the pitch, y'all: I'll be reviewing/talking about movies I've never seen before that are currently available on Netflix. It's true, I'm going to have to get over my fear of horrible, generic Photoshopped cover images, vague descriptions that don't tell you anything, and the worst rating system ever and indulge in some streaming horror. I'm looking forward to finally seeing some stuff that's been a-lingerin' in my queue forever, stuff I'm forever putting off. Everyone knows that movie-watching is a most enjoyable pastime when you force yourself to do it! Ha ha, just kidding. But really, my queue is a bloated, unsightly thing, and so often I will scroll by the horrible, generic Photoshopped covers and think "Not today...not today..." But during SHOCKtober I say YES TODAY. Or tomorrow, or at least by the end of the month.

I'll announce the movie I'm gonna talk about the day before I talk about it, so if you want to watch and feel like we're hanging out you can do so. If you have a site and you also write about the movie, you can pimp yourself until your hand falls off in the comments here! Look man, we're all gonna have a good time this month, okay. SHOCKtober rules!

DAY 1: STARRY EYES (2014)

I have no idea what it's about and I don't care! October 1st...be here or be squeeyer.

Horror Without People: THE CHANGELING

Spoiler alert: you are gonna need some industrial-strength oven mitts to handle the extremely hot take I'm about to lay down. And that is: for my money ($0.36), the very best haunted house movies establish a real sense of place. Crazy, right? It should go without saying. But I'm saying it anyway, because saying things that people should already know is one of my favorite pastimes. In related news, pizza: so good!

But look, sure, you can have a successfully interesting and/or frightening supernatural horror film wherein you say a place is haunted and then you just plop some characters any-ol'-where and throw in some ghosts or whatever. (I don't want to brag, but I'm obviously pretty good at pitching stories.) But this is not the case with, say, The Shining or The Haunting, where the Overlook Hotel and Hill House are essential characters in the stories. Would the Torrance family have been as terrorized had they spent the winter at your local Motel 6? Yes, obviously, but for very different reasons: the rotting lady in the bathtub would have been high on krokodil, etc. It's just not the same!

The Changeling (1980) features a grand old haunted house that's rather reminiscent of Hill House. Why, it even comes with a warning, given by a Mrs. Dudley-esque dour, stern-faced matron.

That house is not fit to live in. No one's been able to live in it. It doesn't want people.

But no one ever listens to dour, stern-faced matrons–even though they always know what's up–and so John Russell stays in the sprawling manse. The exterior looms menacingly while inside there are seemingly endless hallways and staircases. Rooms are boarded up and hidden away, and the house is full of secrets. The visual cues in The Changeling are so abundant and the setting is so well-established that the tale is all but told without the need for dialogue.

awesome movie poster friday - the 1980 edition!

I gave The Changeling a peep for the first time in a long while last night and man, it's still so good. Good enough, in fact, to warrant its very own Awesome Movie Poster Friday. What an honor! But here's the thing...The Changeling hails from 1980 and 1980 was a great year for horror. It's no 1981, of course, but it gave us a veritable embarrassment of genre riches for sure and that is also good enough to warrant an Awesome Movie Poster Friday. Can you feel the love tonight?

Some other movies 1980 blessed us with have been featured with an AMPF before: Terror Train, The Fog, and Prom Night; City of the Living Dead; Inferno; Friday the 13th. There's also The Shining, but look, there are so many minimalist and modern posters for that movie that I honestly can't be bothered. It feels like it was an assignment for a graduating class of budding graphic designers or something, there are so many. But hey, the film itself is another reason why 1980 makes most other years look like total suckers for being so lame.