so i made a movie: VOYEUR, part three

Yes, another installment of So I Made A Movie. Voyeur is a short film written by, directed by, and starring Shannon Lark. I acted as cinematographer.

We just know how much you dug our silly write-ups for Ludlow, so we decided to continue the series. See what you've wrought? This is what happens when you pay attention to us. Part One can be read here, part two here.
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SHANNON LARK: Stacie and I hit the fucking streets like crazy wide-eyed hippies, fighting traffic with one fist between the two of us, and landed across the street from Harry’s apartment. Slowly we moved everything out of the car, again fighting traffic with one single fist, and started the ridiculous process of moving everything up to Harry’s apartment at a snail's pace. Stacie drove all the way down the street to park at the garage (F-YOU San Francisco parking!) and the “camera guy” arrived and started to unload the equipment I rented.

STACIE PONDER: First of all, I think San Francisco learned its lesson right quick: the power of our combined fist is not to be trifled with- The One Fist is strong, particularly when we shake it in a menacing fashion. Which we did.

Yes, Shannon sent me off to a garage to park the car while she waited with our piles and piles of crap; mind you, I had no idea where I was or really where I was going. I exited the garage…err, really not close to where I entered. Nothing was familiar (totally shocking, as I'd never been there before) and I had to wander the harsh afternoon streets of San Fran, stranger in a strange land…for ten minutes. Then I remembered I'd left a trail of Reese's Pieces to follow back to Shannon and our crap. The trail was helpful AND delicious!

SHANNON LARK: We met Harry in the lobby and followed him into the elevator, up to his pad. He showed me the ropes of the antique building, informed me of all their rules, and also made sure to let me know there was vodka in his cabinet before he took off at lightning speed into the wilderness.

STACIE PONDER: Harry's apartment is madness, like I've never seen. If Liberace was a living space and not a human being, he would be this apartment. The amount of stuff crammed in there was overwhelming! It all had this rococo, scallop-edged, ambrosia salad and gold leaf feel to it, which I found fascinating. It was immediately clear why Shannon chose this as her location- it was fashionably insane.

SHANNON LARK: Stacie and I slowly got everything into the service elevator (the other elevator was broken), up 6 flights, down the hall, and into Harry’s apartment. The crew began to show up and I gave out directions like a madwoman while Stacie sat down with the “camera guy” to figure out the camera and lenses she’s never worked with before in her life.

STACIE PONDER: Yeesh. YEESH I SAY. This is where my true anxiety came in: it's one thing to shoot someone's movie. It's something else entirely- something way more flop-sweat inducing- to shoot someone's movie with someone's zillion-dollar, super-fancy ass camera. I realize I'm ghetto, but…my camera has one button. This camera had buttons with…other buttons, and secretaries to make appointments to see the buttons, and it takes, like, three months to get in to see the buttons because they're so important and busy.

Okay, that doesn't make sense. The point is, though, this was a super sweet professional piece of equipment and I'd been freaking out for days and days over using it. But then, as I watched "camera guy" sort of bumble his way through putting an adapter on his own camera, as I told him what certain functions were all about and how to use them, as I got the gist of what was going on in a theoretical manner of speaking, I felt better. I was not going to be intimidated by some extra stinking BUTTONS, no- I was to become the Button Master. I relaxed, hefted that 30-odd pound bad boy up onto a tripod, and I was finally ready to roll.

SHANNON LARK: The other Stacy (whom we call Pippi) showed up and I appointed her Production Manager. After about 2 hours of Stacie (not Pippi, Ponder) learning the equipment we shot our first scene in the elevator. Oh boy. To those of you who have never worked with a Letus 35mm lens and adapter before, we have some information for you: move 6 inches and you're screwed. Stacie struggled to keep pulling focus but if I moved at all within the frame, I would go fuzzy. So we took the camera back upstairs and talked to the “camera guy” about our situation. Supposedly when working with the Letus, you will need someone to pull focus the ENTIRE TIME. We were informed that the Letus was really used for scenes where “people sit down and have a conversation.”

Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
STACIE PONDER: Fuckin' Letus. It makes a beautiful picture, sure, but oh, the focus. Without the focus contraption thingy- yes, that's the technical term- and a Focus Puller, it quickly proved impossible for me to shoot. Actually the shooting was fine- it was…you know, the blurriness that was a problem. Although maybe we could have done the whole film out of focus and claimed it was some sort of artistic statement, and that if the audience went home with a headache, well, that was intentional.

SHANNON LARK: After disagreeing with the “camera guy” that we should just use the Letus “sometimes,” I informed everyone in the general vicinity that we are shooting a horror film and we do not have someone to pull focus nor do we have the time. The Letus was taken off and Stacie, Audrey (the wonderful sound girl), and I dashed into the elevator once again. We quickly moved on to the next scene and Stacie had me look through the viewfinder after we set the lights up. I knew from that very moment that Stacie was doing such a phenomenal job, and she had a secure idea of how I wanted the image to look: I wanted it to be pretty, dammit.

STACIE PONDER: Ugh, it was taking me for-fucking-ever to set up. The equipment was unfamiliar, I wanted everything to be as perfect as I could make it, and everyone was LOOKING at me whilst I was doing all this. Once we got that first REAL shot done and in the bag and everyone thought it was swell, I breathed a sigh of relief and settled in a bit. But just a bit…we'd only shot about five minutes of footage at this point, and we were so far behind our already-tight schedule…

SHANNON LARK: From that moment we were moving so fast that I couldn’t actually tell if I was doing a good job acting or not. I just had to trust Stacie to let me know if I wasn’t doing an action as well as I could be. We had to push for time since the camera fiasco put us back by about 2-3 hours, and we were supposed to be done no later than 2am. I cut shots to make it easier and Pippi kept me going by shoving coffee and avocado in my mouth.

STACIE PONDER: It became a mildly-controlled frenzy. One of the very first scenes we shot after the hours-long Letus fiasco was little more than an insert; I could read a sort of…I don't know, a mildly disappointed resignation on Shannon's face that things got off to a rocky start. I didn't blame her, as we'd been prepared to hit the ground running only to have, like, our shoes explode when the starting gun went off. I knew she'd bounce back quickly, but I wanted to make sure we didn't end up sacrificing quality or getting things exactly how she wanted them because of the time crunch. In other words, I didn't want Voyeur to become "Eh, that's good enough" when we both wanted it to be…well, fucking pretty.

SHANNON LARK: That’s exactly what Stacie did. Through the frenzy of needing to get the shots done, she refused to let me sacrifice the prettiness of the project. The crew was absolutely excellent, which is something I wanted Stacie to experience: like…where people help out and stuff. They were patient when they needed to be and they moved quickly when the crunch came. It was all women, which made it A-MAZING. The set was absolutely luxurious, and everyone seemed to understand stylistically what we were going for.

Around 11:30pm I was in the middle of doing the rape scene on Harry’s bed and had Bodhi, the Stylist, call Harry to let him know we might need more time (heh). He then said the glorious words, “I’m getting a hotel room, so take your time, and lock up when you are finished.” From that point, my brain just…relaxed. We were not going to get kicked out and be denied the final shots. We were golden!!

STACIE PONDER: Once we got the okay from Harry that we could stay, the room got a bit more energized. I don't care, I'll shoot all night long. It was good to know, however, that at the stroke of two we wouldn't turn back into pumpkins or whatevs.

The crew was indeed fantastic, but in a way they stressed me out- not because of anything anyone did, but because I loathe making people wait. I realize that movie-making is, in large part, people standing around waiting for things to happen, but I can't stand that feeling of not getting a piece of equipment to work, or needing to spend lots of time getting the lights just so, or dealing with the other irritating minutiae in every set-up…especially when everyone's standing around gawking at me. I suppose that's something I'll just have to get used to, especially if I intend to continue to make films with so-called "actual crews".

SHANNON LARK: I think one of the most annoying things that happened during the shoot was the camera, and feeling the pain of Stacie trying to make the stupid thing work. This was a 20 thousand dollar piece of plastic and lens, but it refused to white balance and would actually turn from a red to a blue hue WHILE WE WERE SHOOTING! This took Stacie a long time to get lighting right, because it was a tricky bastard. We began to believe that the camera and the “camera guy” was actually cursed.

We continued shooting and after a couple hours let the crew go; after going through what we did for Ludlow, Stacie and I knew we could do the rest ourselves. Pippi fell asleep on the couch while Stacie and I fought the camera’s evil white balance issues and continued to shoot. We wrapped up at about 3am and hugged.

STACIE PONDER: Another one down. It was such a huuuuuuge fucking relief when Shannon said something to the effect of, "I think that's it." I knew we'd get it done, but my brain was quickly slipping into the notorious Jello Zone. My contact lenses felt like salt and vinegar Pringles stuck on my eyes, and my arms were tired from holding that camera all night.

It's strange, these movies we do together (all two of them…so far) always end so quietly. Not that I expect confetti and balloons- if anything, I'd want a laser light show- but we seem to wrap in the quietest part of the day, when the sun is just starting to make itself known. It's generally just the two of us, and it's a little eerie-feeling to me…then there's that last shot and someone says "I think that's it."- then we start cleaning up. Well, we hug and then we clean up. One of these days we'll wrap early enough to actually give ourselves a toast with the friggin' bottle of tequila we always bring but never drink.

SHANNON LARK: It’s true. I think these last two films we’ve done together have been such a whirlwind of insanity that by the time we get to the last shot, we don’t know if it really IS the last shot. It creates that silent pondering on everything we’ve done: our minds trying to conceive of the idea that we were able to create that much in such little time. It’s like the light of heaven opens up, and everyone is speechless. I think it’s pretty fucking beautiful.

While we silently speculated I got my sweats on and joined the “camera guy” in the kitchen at 3:30am to extract the footage from the camera. Oh, how positively naive it was of me to believe I could just…I don’t know…get the footage from the camera onto my computer?

This is when the freakin’ universe stuck out its large middle finger and said “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

STACIE PONDER: The universe is such a jerk sometimes.

awesome movie poster friday - the FULCI edition!

Wow, this is the 50th Awesome Movie Poster Friday! Just think, if I actually did one every week, this would be, like, number 288.

In related news, I desperately want to see Murderock, even though "they" say it's not very good.

In other related news, check out my reviews of some Fulci-tastic flicks:

• The Beyond
• House by the Cemetery
• The Psychic

In unrelated news, I watched Mimic right before bed and I dreamt about big bugs.

In related unrelated news, what the hell ever happened to Mira Sorvino? I like her.

other places, other times

As I'm sure you're well aware, I cheat on you all the time. Why you continue to put up with it, I have no idea. Is your self-esteem really so low? Have I convinced you- and I hope I have- that no other blog will ever want you? And that it's your fault that I have to go and write for other places because all you do is nag and besides, you look like you've gained a little weight?

Well, guess what, suckers- I'm flaunting my dalliances yet again! Wednesdays are AMC days and over the past few weeks I've written about:

• awesome drive-in double features
• terrible tag lines
• B-monster field guide redux

Yes, I'm aware that today is Thursday, not Wednesday, but the best thing about The Internet (besides this) is the fact that you can use it to travel into the past, even if you're only wearing your underwear. Mind you, I would never do that because it's perverted.

I'll also have a movie review in the forthcoming Rue Morgue #91. Reading Rue Morgue is also something you can do whilst clad in naught but your undies. But again, that's perver-- no, actually it's quite fun.


And with that, I bid you good day. GOOD DAY.

No, wait! Start your movie mogul career by donating to the Ludlow fund. To those of you who already have, you're such superstars and THANK YOU. If I ever saw you on the street, I would hi-five you so hard my hand would fly off. Perhaps it would comically land in the soup of someone dining at an outdoor cafe and oh, how we would laugh!

And so are the days of our lives.

I just realized I have two pictures of Macdonald Carey on my harddrive. I'm not quite sure what this says about me, but let's just assume that it's something cool.

so i made a movie: VOYEUR, part two

Yes, So I Made A Movie: Voyeur, which is a short film written by, directed by, and starring Shannon Lark, which we shot whilst I was away. We just know how much you dug our silly write-ups for Ludlow, so we decided to continue the series. See what you've wrought? This is what happens when you pay attention to us. Part One can be read here.
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SHANNON LARK: I woke up the next day (I think it was Thursday) with a massive hangover. It was baaaad, and Stacie greeted me with the best cup of coffee I had ever had in my life! I asked her what she put in it, and she looked at me oddly, “uhhhh….coffee?” I agreed with myself to agree, although I still believe that she put some sort of magical-ness into it then I can only hope to harness one day.

STACIE PONDER: Dammit, that hangover was supposed to be mine! We'd agreed before Shannon even left New Mexico that she'd be the one giving ME water and nursing my drunkenness after the party and during the long drive to San Fran. It just goes to show, something something something.

In related news, that coffee was pretty fine. You MIGHT say that the secret magical ingredient is unicorn milk, or as it's more commonly referred to, "soy creamer"…which sounds vaguely like a porn star name. Roy Creamer, maybe…hmm. Anyway.

SHANNON LARK: I sat on the couch and we talked while the pain from my noggin’ was slowly lifted. We decided to hit the road and we had breakfast in an ultra-70’s style coffee shop that Stacie was in love with and made a visit to the grocery store, where we bought one can of almonds for our trip.

STACIE PONDER: Oh my God, I do so love the Lamplighter- born in 1977 and it hasn't seemed to have been altered since. It's totally full of grey-haired folk all the time; it's the only place I've ever been where all the handicapped parking spots are ALWAYS full. And I dig that it's half diner, half cocktail lounge. I LURVE the cocktail lounge with its cranky old bartender and the chairs that roll. They roll because they have WHEELS on them! Whenever I have to "take a meeting" (which has happened…err, once, I think) I do it at the Lamplighter cocktail lounge so I can feel as if I'm at the Cattleman's Club on Dallas.

And yes, we pushed a cart around the grocery store for 15 minutes only to emerge with a single can of almonds. I can't decide if that's pathetic or awesome.

SHANNON LARK: It was totally awesome! Stacie drove like a maniac out of LA, onto I-5, where we got to see the sights and smell the smells of California’s dustbowl. Mmmm….

I sang and danced and looked at people through my binoculars as we neared San Francisco. All the old feelings of seeing SF came back to me, and I was perfectly happy I didn’t live there anymore. I love the place, but it was just time to leave, you know?

Stacie is an expert driver, so we parked at the downtown garage and hit Union Square to work with Jane, the other actress, through some blocking. There was a peace rally for Iran happening and people kept coming up to us because they thought we had the petition due to my trusty production folder. Little did they know it had images of rape all over it. Heh.

We could only do so much out in the open air (although in SF you can get away with a lot), and Jane parted ways with us shortly after the meeting. Stacie and I headed off to stay at a residence of an old friend of mine, Darren, and found rock star parking. WOO! Seriously though, Stacie had never been to SF before and she took on those hills like they were nothing. I was amazed and somewhat hypnotized.

STACIE PONDER: I was totally channeling the late, great Karl Malden in The Streets of San Francisco! But really, Shannon had warned me that people freak out driving around SF for the first time, intimidated by all the hills. Meh. I'm definitely not a driver who gets intimidated by much…after living in and tooling around New York and Boston, what else is there? Besides, the hills are meant to be conquered…and they're rather fun, if I do say so myself.

I will admit, though, that we found kick ass parking the whole time we were there. My Parking Fu was quite strong.

SHANNON LARK: We lugged our baggage up to Darren’s, hit the Starlight Room for some wonderful hospitality, and then passed out like two peas in a pod. We awoke after a good sleep and went to breakfast with Darren at a local café. Stacie and I jumped in the car and checked out the local Video rental house on the search for a monitor to hook up to an HD camera. Oh boy…they had the worst monitors, with missing knobs and screws. It was pretty terrible and overpriced (ahhh…San Francisco). We decided that going with a computer monitor would be even better than renting the ones available. We got everything packed up and played the waiting game until 2:30pm. The waiting is truly the worst thing about filmmaking. Neither of us are very patient (except with each other, I’ve noticed), so it was difficult to wait around: rechecking my notes and storyboards for the 16th time.

STACIE PONDER: The very idea of getting a monitor for this shoot let me know that it would be quite…well, different than what I was used to on my own films. A monitor and a crew? These are things that are entirely foreign to me. Shannon doesn't fuck around, and while it's awesome, it was honestly only adding to my secret anxiety about shooting her film. There would be people watching shit on a monitor, JUDGING ME. What if it stunk? What if these people were laughing at my work, or even worse, at my hair? Shannon's biggest requirement for Voyeur was that I "make it pretty", and it was getting to be time to see if I was up to it.

file photo of Final Girl

SHANNON LARK: I had no doubts that everyone was going to love Stacie's hair. 2:15 hit the clock and we were off to Harry’s place, which was conveniently 2 blocks away. We were ready to rock!

Alright, but can I go with someone else?

Oh. My. Crapping. Crap.

Once upon a recent time I bought a copy of the most perverse, most bestest Bigfoot movie ever, Night of the Demon, via yon Internette. The seller was so effing amazing that he/she/they included a free bonus DVD- the 1981 slasher Don't Go in the Woods...Alone!. Well, my friends, I watched that bonus DVD tonight and...again I say, oh my crapping crap. I think I'm in love.

Right away I had an inkling that I was gonna be in for a treat, as the film proclaimed itself "Spectacular Entertainment".


I don't want to keep you in suspense: they weren't lying.

As best as I could discern, the plot goes something like this: some tools go camping for some reason, a bunch of random people wander around the woods, most of them die, and then the killer gets killed. It sounds totally by the numbers, right? Well, fret not, friendos, for the true delights of Don't Go in the Woods are in the deets*.

Not only is DGitW entirely dubbed, it also boasts the worst acting in the history of ever. EVARRRR. I'm not kidding. Here's a simple math equation to help you grasp the depths of awfulness acheived: think of the worst acting you've ever seen in a movie. Now take out your science calculator and multiply that bad acting by a million. The result will still only be roughly two-thirds as atrocious as what you'll witness in DGitW. These actors defy all logic; I understand that acting is indeed an art and not everyone will excel at said art, but...it was as if these people had never spoken before. At all. Their inflections were off, they were stressing the wrong words, repeating words over and over...it's truly SPECTACULAR ENTERTAINMENT.

"Do you know? At this verrrrminnit. I am missing. As the World TURNS?"

"How do you tell. The rabid from the. UNRABID?"

Don't Go in the Woods is populated with countless random characters, most of whom don't have any lines, never mind a name or a reason for existing. Take, for example, this woman, who is hiking in the woods with her photographer son/friend/weirdo person, who is there to shoot photos of a train.

A train which makes a stop.

In the woods.

We don't see the train, but we hear a train whistle, so I'm sure it was really there.

Or take this woman, who WEARS ROLLER SKATES WHILST HIKING.

Or this broad, who doesn't say a word but is clearly cooler than you or I will ever be.

See, she's out in the woods a-paintin'. Mind you, she's not exactly painting what she sees, but who am I to judge? Art is feeling, man, and it ain't safe.

Like most other hikers, Coolie Painter falls victim to...something. Or someone. Up until this point, the stalking sequences progressed like this:

1. There is no ambient noise, but a character says "What was that??" and looks off-screen.
2. Cut to a shot of a moving tree branch, while the character says "Aah!"
3. Cut to a shot of the character, bloody and dead.

What was killing these poor nameless fools? Was it the branches themselves? Was it a bear? Suicide? The first real clue flashed before my eyeballs during Coolie Painter's death: as best as I could figure, it was a knife-wielding Sasquatch who was responsible for all the murdering!


I figured wrong. Much later, after many a sequence wherein we follow people walking through the woods and they're suddenly killed by something just out of frame, the culprit is revealed: it's a wackadoo mountain man, apparently the offspring of Captains Caveman and Lou Albano! He's a right filthy kookadook with a penchant for wearing Mardi Gras beads on his face and poking people- poking them TO DEATH- with sticks.

The music is as horrendous as the acting, a thunking and constantly repeating Casio soundtrack featuring swells that build to nothing and stings present for no reason. The less said about the end credits music (set to the tune of "The Teddy Bears Picnic", featuring lyrics such as "Don't go into the woods tonight, you probably will be killed..."), the better.

Were the last twenty minutes of Don't Go in the Woods...Alone! not so damn padded- and they really were- I'd probably be proclaiming this film to be the love of my life. It's gloriously, uproariously inept filmmaking at its finest...in other words, it's SPECTACULAR ENTERTAINMENT.

As further proof of my assertions, I'd like to provide you with some screencaps from the sequence where the cuckoo nutso cave dude decapitates the wheelchair-bound hiker, but my computer has had enough of this shitty movie and freezes up when I try to play it. My computer has such high standards, you see.

YES I SAID A WHEELCHAIR-BOUND HIKER. He made the mistake of wheeling into the woods...alone!




*That's young folk talk for "details"...once again, I strive to prove my youthful vigor, my "with it-ness", and my relevance.

LUDLOW needs YOU!

Alright, people, this is it. As you may well be aware because I won't shut up about it, Ludlow is finished. It's been slapped on a DVD and screened for some friends. In fact, I thought I'd reached a time when it would no longer rule my days and haunt my nights...and I'm sure you all thought you could just watch the fucking thing and be done with it, right? That's nice, in theory, but...



See, the final cut of the film turned out to be a whopping 63 minutes. 63 MINUTES, a result that was rather unexpected, to say the least. After all, the script was only 20 pages.

Now, as you may notice, 63 minutes is quite close to the running time of a feature film, yes? And a wee too long a run time for a comfortable short, yes? Yes. Obviously, this only means one thing: I need to write some more, shoot some more, and make Ludlow longer. I need to expand the elastic waistband on the comfortable short(s) and make this into a feature, which will be easier to get into the grubby mitts of audiences. Stronger, faster, better!

Shannon Lark (ze star) will be back here in Los Angeles in early August. Once more, we're going to truck out into the Mojave Desert and, barring any typical Ludlow-related shananigans, we're gonna finish this puppy.


Here's where you come in, o dear reader. We need to raise funds to complete our arduous task. Travel, lodging, FX, these all need to be covered, so we're asking for donations.

Donate $10 and your name gets in the credits of the film. The person who donates the most by Friday, August 7th will also receive a 16" x 20" painting by me, subject matter of the donor's choosing.

Yes, I feel a bit presumptuous offering up a painting by me as a "prize", but I have no idea what else to offer. Check out my work here to see if that's something you'd be into.

We don't need much money, but we do need some. All proceeds will go towards the making of Ludlow- however, should we receive money over the amount we need to finish the film, it'll go towards whatever's next on our slate- and Shannon and I have a good four projects lined up to make together.

Any amount will help. Alright, frankly a penny won't help that much, but I'll still take it and give you my eternal gratitude in return.

Now, if you're saying "That's all fine and good, but you haven't shown us crap beyond that teaser trailer. What am I getting myself into? I don't even know what this movie is about!" Well, here's what the skinny be, as best as I can tell ya...or Heidi at Pretty/Scary can tell ya, 'cause she told it just right:

Shot in the California desert in just a few days under grueling circumstances, Ludlow's plot involves a woman (Shannon Lark) stalked by her abusive ex boyfriend and aided by a well-meaning sister (Elissa Dowling) which quickly turns deadly.

There you go. And here's a little clip. Oh, this shit is NSFW, but then so is Final Girl, so...



So. Give if you can, or if you want to, even if it's only well-wishes. Repost this or link to it on your own website and spread the indie horror love. The movie-making flame BURNS!

Film Club: Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror

Burial Ground: The Nights of Terror (1981) typifies that which we folks around here call a "Tiffany"- that is, this Italian zombiefest coulda been so beautiful, but you simply can't hold what coulda been, dig? The film tackles the standard spaghetti-n-eyeballs formula, at times throwing a few innovations into the genre; somehow, though, this movie that coulda and shoulda been a cult classic ends up just sort of...there.


An archaeologist who bears a striking resemblance to comic creator Alan Moore discovers "an incredible secret" whilst mucking about in a crypt beneath a mansion; one can only assume that it has something to do with the living dead, for soon reanimated, rotting corpses are biting his bearded ass.

Well, not literally. The zombies do make with the munch munch, though, despite the professor's pleas of "Stand back! I'm your friend!" NOTE TO SELF: Zombies care not for friends.

Soon thereafter, a bunch of people show up at the mansion because...umm...they're friends with the professor, I guess, and he wants to tell them all about his incredible secret. It's never fully or clearly explained, but no matter! What's important here is that we get plenty of scenes with a bunch of unappealing people almost having sex, classic lines of dialogue such as "You look just like a little whore- but I like it!", and we're introduced to Michael (Peter Bark), the 40-year-old 12-year-old who looks just like a mini-Dario Argento.

Yes, he's supposed to be a child...a child with some serious mommy issues- but we'll get to that later.

Don't worry, it won't take long to get to Michael. There's not much else to explain in Burial Ground, because there's no story. Zombies show up, people kind of run away or sometimes fight, and that's that. Mind you, I've never seen the walking dead walk slower (seriously, even the Romero Shufflers are all "Can you guys please hurry the eff up? We're hungry, here!"), nor have I ever seen a stupider ragtag group of survivors. They stand there and say things like "They're coming towards us!" as the zombies slooooowwwwly do just that.

By the way, this zombie (whom I nicknamed Marty Feldman) was my favorite:

As I stated earlier, writer Piero Regnoli and director Andrea "Strip Nude for Your Killer" Bianchi add a few welcome innovations to the mix. First, the zombies take to using tools to aid in the pursuit of their prey: from farm implements (!) to battering rams (!!) to a random power saw left plugged into the wall of a rural monastery (!!!), these dudes will do whatever it takes to get their munch munch on. The best sequence, perhaps, comes when the foolish housekeeper dangles herself out the window to check out the happenings, only to have her hand impaled when a zombie- surely some ninja zombie, or perhaps a zombie who was a circus knife-thrower at one time- chucks a spike through it. Then, as you'd expect, the rotters slowly cut her head off with a giant scythe.

Yeah, it's silly, but it's also a frightening twist; zombies are supposed to just stand there, or mill about, or- worst case scenario- run. They're not supposed to throw things, or poke at me with...pointy pokers. And for Charles Nelson Reilly's sake, they're certainly not supposed to climb up anything except maybe stairs! They're not allowed to scale buildings, dammit, but in Burial Ground they do, and it's sort of my worst nightmare come to life. Or unlife. Or whatever.

One element that seems to distinguish Italian zombies from their non-Italian counterparts is the fact that these bastards are fetid corpses, all oatmeal-faced and maggot-covered, who rise from the ground. Elsewhere in cinema, the walking dead are generally just sort of blue-faced and shambling about. I want hands busting through turf a la Creepshow, and I want to smell 'em coming before I see 'em. In this respect, Burial Ground totally delivers.

And now it's time: undoubtedly the most ridiculous and notorious element of the film is l'il pervy Michael. A scene of a mother comforting her son quickly devolves into the viewer crying "Why the fuck is there about to be incest happening on my screen?!" as Michael attempts to feel up mommy, wondering why she refuses to offer some boobage like she did when he was a baby. He's a determined 40-year-old 12-year-old, though, and when Michael is later bitten and transformed, he immediately takes advantage of the situation to get what he wants. It's an absolutely shocking sequence, the dubious highlight of Burial Ground upon which the movie's entire reputation is built.

There's plenty of gut-munching and maggots and zombies galore, but in the end Burial Ground never seems to gel completely into a satisfying whole. I didn't really care about much of anything going on, although it's an interesting piece of Italian zombie cinema, to be sure (if only for the sideshow that is Michael). If nothing else, the film proves one thing: sometimes movies need a plot! Oh, and that zombies care not for friends. So...two things.

Let's put it this way: the typo in the quote that marks the end of the movie somehow makes perfect sense.


Film Club Coolies, y'all!
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The Hougly Film and Beer Journal
Kaedrin
Dave's Blog About Movies and Such
Brutal As Hell
The Film Reel
Banned in Queensland
Full Moon Reviews
Zombie Cupcake
The Verdant Dude
The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense
namtab
Askewed Views
The Horror Section
The Inevitable Zombie Apocalypse
Rogue Dave
Sam Hawken
Invasion of the B Movies
Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies

so i made a movie: VOYEUR, part one

Dear y'alls,

I bet you've been worried about me, right? Wondering where I was and if I'd ever come back from my vacation...why, I'm sure you weren't even able to celebrate July 4th to the fullest because of all the concern. "No, friend, despite the fact that I love American independence and the thought of powdered wigs, I cannot even fathom a hot dog right now for I am concerned about Final Girl. What if she never comes back? What if she's taken to the woods like Nell and she's off doing nudie midnight swims and tayyynnnn innna wiinnnn-ing ? Which useless website will I read then, friend? WHICH I SAY."

Well, don' worr', chickbayyyyy, I'm back...although the prospect of fleeing to the woods and finding a lake for my nudie midnight swims was indeed tempting. Tomorrow, as you may recall, is Film Club Day, so go get yer Italian zombie action on!

But first, behold, Part One of So I Made A Movie: Voyeur, which is a short film written by, directed by, and starring Shannon Lark, which we shot whilst I was away. We just know how much you dug our silly write-ups for Ludlow, so we decided to continue the series. See what you've wrought? This is what happens when you pay attention to us.

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SHANNON LARK: It seems as though the filmmaking process of Ludlow went so well between Stacie Ponder and I, that I decided to call upon her to film a short script I wrote titled Voyeur.

It was a perfect situation: I had just enough money to film this small beast, and Stacie had an itching to get the hell out of LA for a couple days. We made a deal for the exchange of services: she does the cinematography for my short and I see some big ass trees with her.

Fuck yeah.

STACIE PONDER: I learned two things (and two things ONLY) whilst making Ludlow: 1) Peperoncinis and peanut butter is a fucking delicious combo, and 2) Shannon and I mesh together creatively, like, super duper wicked awesomely. I’ll jump at any chance to work with her, and the fact that Voyeur came along so soon after Ludlow wrapped had me psyched. I was duly honored that she asked me to DP for her, but after saying yes I have to admit to a little panic. I’d never shot anything for anyone else before. I was going to be essentially responsible for her film (particularly since she’s also the star and wouldn’t be behind the camera with me), and for a while I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task. If I shoot my own movie and it sucks, I can just bury the tapes out in the New Mexico desert next to all those Atari E.T. game cartridges and no one ever has to find out. If I shoot someone else’s movie and it sucks, I’ve ruined her movie and I’m a big jerk. It’s a lot of pressure especially since, as I mentioned, it was my first time. I could only hope that Voyeur would be gentle and would still love and respect me in the morning.

Besides, the idea of seeing the big ass trees in Sequoia National Park after the shoot was too delicious to pass up, so it was on.

SHANNON LARK: I had written the script last November while I was still living in San Francisco (more like surfing on friend’s couches) and I was working at the Starlight Room in downtown SF. My boss, Harry Denton, who is like…famous and stuff, has an amazing apartment in a 40’s motif that I had read about in the papers. I wanted to write a story about a woman who is raped, and it’s really fucked up. I’ve always felt there weren’t enough rape films, especially male on male sodomy scenes. There aren’t any male on male sodomy scenes in the movie, but Harry Denton had the perfect apartment to match, so I was sold on the idea of shooting in the city.

I left San Francisco on January 1st, and drove like a madman straight to New Mexico to live, and like…have a home and a shower and stuff.

STACIE PONDER: Fucking diva.

SHANNON LARK: Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors hit and the shooting date fell though on two separate occasions for different reasons. Ugh. It’s a short film for Christ’s sake! And dammit, Christ wanted me to make this movie!!

STACIE PONDER: It’s true, Christ wanted her to make this movie. I read about it in the Bible.

Okay, not in the BIBLE Bible, but I read about it on a website about the Bible. It said something like “And lo, Shannon Lark shall maketh a film about a woman who is raped, and lo, it shall be good. And fucked up.”

SHANNON LARK: I got the crew together (which is all female, so it kinda rocks) and cashed in a free flight from Southwest, due to my nifty little rewards card. Stacie picked me up from the airport in Burbank and we hit the grocery store. I don’t eat gluten anymore and I had a great time telling Stacie allllll about it.

STACIE PONDER: Holy crap, if I hear about gluten one more time I’m gonna puke my pants. Shannon is worse than a born again! Actually, it’s kind of amazing how she managed to work it into virtually EVERY conversation:

“Shannon, what time is it?”

“Umm, it’s 5:30. That’s so weird, because I stopped eating gluten at 10:30 three weeks ago!”

“How is that weird?”

“I don’t know, it just is. By the way, I don’t eat gluten anymore.”

SHANNON LARK: She had arranged a screening for Ludlow and the Ghostella films that evening so we grilled up veggie shishkabobs and I drank wayyyy too much wine. I don’t drink that often and since I don’t eat gluten anymore (hehe), I can’t drink beer. C’mon! I grew up on beer!!

Stacie just drank herself sober…on beer.

STACIE PONDER: My goal for the evening was basically to get drunk. This would serve two purposes: one, the booze would soothe my jangled nerves and I’d be able to watch Ludlow and all my other crap in front of people. Two, I was looking to relax after countless hours and long nights editing that fucking movie, and three, it was also a sort of birthday party and to celebrate my FINALLY turning 21, I thought it would be neat to get drunk legally for a change.

Yes, I realize that’s three purposes but I’m a girl so math is hard.

My plan worked for a while, and I was indeed drunk. In fact, I was going around letting people know as much: “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m a little bit drunk.” The next thing I knew, however, I was unexpectedly and disappointingly sober. The sudden transformation truly counts as one of life’s mysteries.

SHANNON LARK: Everyone loved Ludlow, I think. Except maybe that one guy who wandered off into the night when it started to play.

STACIE PONDER: No one knows who that guy was! No one claimed the random drunk guy. Maybe he was a mass hallucination, or a ghost. That’s probably it. He did talk about peoples’ auras an awful lot.

SHANNON LARK: The crowd went crazy over Stacie’s short films and I ended up passing out on her bedroom floor directly after Ludlow screened. I spilled wine on her favorite blanket and water on her bed before falling asleep under a curtain that I pulled from my suitcase.

STACIE PONDER: Yeah, I think people had a good time. It’s an amazing feeling to have people react positively to something I made- it kinda makes me feel like a three-year-old who busted out some glitter-covered macaroni art and mom loves it- or claims to- and hangs it on the fridge.

After the movies were over, people wanted to tell Shannon that she was fantastic in Ludlow (because…you know…she IS), but she’d disappeared. I found her drunk on my bedroom floor, managed to get her outside to greet (read: slur at) her public, then tucked her in for the night under her beloved curtain. The wine spillage wasn’t discovered until a week later, after we’d returned from our Voyeur adventure. It really doesn’t matter to me- it’s just a fucking blanket- but what I find most amusing is that Shannon tried to convince me that the blanket wasn’t even mine and that she’d brought it with her.

SHANNON LARK: It looks just like the blanket I was supposed to bring! Honest!!

And so the adventures of Voyeur began, just like Christ said on that one website about the bible.