Happy Halloween!

No pumpkins in my corner this year, but I did manage to grease my wheels in time to move Dorothy along her way. 

Hope everyone else has a wonderful high holy day filled with full-sized candy bars, crunching autumn leaves, and especially gooey silver shamrocks!

The Cinematic Black Holes Found Footage Built

Inevitably spoken dialogue in every found footage horror movie ever made:
"I can't see shit!"

Inevitably felt emotion by the audience of every found footage horror movie ever made:
"How do you think we feel?"

Quick Plot: A white guy with a beard, a white woman named Brandy, and two or three additional non-distinguishable white men decide to drive their RV across the country to document their search for the ultimate Halloween haunt.

Naturally, their camera-happy ways irk some ringmasters who proceed to follow the group on their journey, playfully leaving what could be interpreted as either death threats or invitations to the best haunted house you can imagine.

Since this is a horror movie, it's easy enough for the audience to guess which. Our characters, however, are still motivated to find the perfect Halloween experience, leading them into some bad(ly lit) times.

The Houses That October Built starts with an absolutely terrific premise. Halloween haunts get bigger every year, and the idea of using real-life ones across the country makes perfect sense for your average target audience, particularly when you're working on a limited budget. I would have loved to see that film.

But you know, I didn't actually see anything.

Like many a low budget found footage genre flick, The Houses October Built isn't particularly gifted at lighting. Night vision is fine, but when that method produces the clearest shots in your movie, there's something of a problem.

I could forgive some technical glitches if the content made up for it, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I caught absolutely nothing about this story or characters. The actors are natural to the camera, but that doesn't make them interesting onscreen. One guy had a beard. One guy was a woman. I assume another was her boyfriend. I think there was one more. Or maybe two. Or maybe the guy with the beard shaved halfway through production.

My point is, I just didn't care. There was nothing charming or unique about these characters to ever make me invested in their fate. (On the positive side, there was nothing Crowsnest awful about them to have me actively root for their downfalls.) They drink beer. They eat pot cookies. They talk with food in their mouths.

So maybe they KIND OF had it coming.

High Points
Not surprisingly, the film has plenty of fun making use of the creative design involved in these kinds of haunts, from the creepy doll masks and evil clowns to the joy of zombie paintball (an idea I KNEW I should have patented back in 2000)

Low PointsCan't. See. A. Thing.

Lessons LearnedBourbon Street may be more tolerable on Halloween, when the vomit of frat boys can be confined to masks and not on every corner of the sidewalk

Dive bars are way more fun when filled with zombie prom dancers

When you meet a group of self-aware white twentysomethings, always assume they're filming you. Trust me: they are

Rent/Bury/BuyThe Houses October Built is far from the worst way to spend 90 minutes via Netflix Instant Watch. In the realm of found footage horror, it ranks somewhere right in the middle, mostly because the concept is just so interesting in itself. The rest of it, well, what you can SEE of it has its moments, but this isn't a diamond in the rough.

What Day Is This? Why, It's Halloween Day Of Course!

Here's to a happy, safe, and not at all healthy October 31st, courtesy of my 2013 Halloween alter ego.

NAILED IT!

And if the Bluths don't float your Seawards, I'll let the cast of Season 3 of Beverly Hills, 90210 say it best.

Whether it's a toilet papered trail or candy corn coma, I wish you all the best on this always special day. Just don't let it go to your head!

Oh, Canada

Martyn Burke’s The Clown Murders is one of those titles that gets tossed around horror movie discussions for two reasons:

-It features a killer dressed like a clown

-It costars a young Canadian named John Candy

Both of these reasons would be valid motivation for seeking out a film. And yet...

Quick Plot: After an extended game of polo, a group of wealthy men with a complicated history (or not? I DON’T KNOW) come up with a dastardly plan for Halloween night. Philip, a work-obsessed lawyer with a bad back, Rosie, a silver spoon-fed jerk with a girl’s name, and Ollie, a John Candy with a sandwich glued to his hands, conspire to dress like circus clowns and help world traveler Charlie kidnap his ex-girlfriend Allison just long enough so she can’t help her entrepreneurial new husband sign some time-sensitive papers at midnight to sell her farm to greedy land developers.

Or maybe that didn’t happen. I mean, what business deal takes place at midnight? And not a minute after? As if there’s a slim window before the harvest moon experiences a lunar eclipse when any signature is rendered obsolete? It doesn’t make sense, you know? And truth be told, characters mumble in this film with less clarity than Liv Tyler in a library, so for all I know, the actual plot involved a chess tournament or creating the perfect recipe for tiramisu.

Mmmm...tiramisu

Assuming that the movie is indeed about the detected plot, it still makes zero logical sense. After the men HILARIOUSLY kidnap Allison and beat up her husband, it doesn’t take more than one newscast to reveal the authorities are, shockingly enough, taking this quite seriously. Rather than go to the police to say “Hey, we played a realllllllly stupid joke and are sorry,” (even though their ‘victim’ is the one who suggests it) the men decide to suspiciously retreat to Allison’s secluded farmhouse and build tension amongst themselves for the rest of the night, occasionally pausing to satisfy monstrous little trick-or-treaters, have super confusing flashbacks in Barbara Walters’ fog filter, or make a fat joke at John Candy’s expense.

Oh, and also, at about 90 minutes into the running time, to elude the level 1 Boy Scout traps of a crazed clown killer whose identity is adorably foreshadowed earlier by a bombastic score and the fact that said suspect is constantly shown cutting the heads off of chickens.

There’s also an Irish leprechaun playing the part of the farmer’s very Irish caretaker.

And did I mention John Candy likes to eat?

Seriously, the last point cannot be ignored. I do not exaggerate when I say that every single line said by or directed at Ollie involves food, be it croissants, doughnuts, peanuts, or a giant ham sub. The only exception? When Ollie sees a light in the distance. That’s not food related at all! Except when Rosie points out that Ollie is probably just spotting a refrigerator door that is opened, and you know what’s inside refrigerators? FOOD THAT FAT OLLIE CAN EAT!

Yup, this is a strange film. And a fairly terrible one, at least based on what dialogue I could make out. Even looking past the film’s lack of technical quality, we’re still stuck with a meandering storyline that spins its rusty wheels until it randomly decides to do something about its horror movie classification. It doesn’t do it well, but at least something actually happens.

Eventually.

High Points

You know, men dressed like clowns is always KIND of creepy, even when the men are stupid and the clowns set traps that Franklin Delano Roosevelt could probably elude

Low Points

Oh goodness. The fact that this is a terrible movie. That’s about it

Lessons Learned

Cars are not picnic tables (though they’ll work in a pinch)

Nothing ruins a party quite like an unexpected  kidnapping

In Canada, cops trust the men they arrest to just seat themselves in the backseat of police cars

John Candy REALLY likes to eat

The Winning Line

“I can’t figure out what’s going on,” says a befuddled police chief upon The Clown Murders’ finale. Was ever a more meta line of dialog spoken? I think not

Rent/Bury/Buy

Gluttons for punishment will find plenty to enjoy in The Clown Murders, be it horrifically unlikable characters in extreme closeup, barely audible dialogue, a plot that a toddler could probably rewrite more sensibly, or a gloriously WTF ending that solves nothing. This is a terrible film, one that seems to wander around dumb character decisions until it gets more bored than its audience and decides, ‘hey, I’ll just be a horror movie! It’s not too late!’ 

It’s not too late, it’s just still bad.

A Sorority Is Only As Good As Its Wardrobe

Much like a good portion of the human population, I've had a rather serious case of Olympic fever over the past few weeks (much to the chagrin of NBC, who seem to be aggressively trying to cure this worldwide ailment with such antidotes as selective airing, ignorance of badminton, creepily leering broadcasters who can't hide the boners beach volleyball produces, lack of suspense, poor editing, and of course, Ryan Seacrest teaching your parents about Twitter). 

The result of this condition is that my moviewatching has been, shall we say, spotty. I don't feel guilty about this. After all, I can queue up The Unborn any day. I only get evil pummel horses stoically destroying the dreams of the Bronx ever four years.

That being said, I can only watch coxless rowing for so long before deciding it might be a good time to squeeze in a brisk 74 minute horror film, namely the fashion show spectacular that is 1986's Sorority House Massacre. Nowhere near a gold medal, but still far more interesting than coxless rowing.

And no, I'm not just repeating "coxless" because it sounds scandalous. As a public school graduate who's never watched a professional crew, I find the sport fascinating but only because it includes one team player three feet shorter than his or her teammates who does nothing but shout at his or her players to go faster. It's as if I missed my calling for the one Olympic event I might have stood a chance at.

Sigh.

Quick Plot: College student Beth returns to her sorority house following the death of her aunt. Despite the girls just wanna have fun vibe of her sisters, Beth can't seem to shake a series of powerful nightmares that involve a mystery man slicing his way through her comfortable party digs. Meanwhile, a seriously disturbed mental patient gives his doctors some worry across town. Could these two insomniacs have something in common?

Is an '80s final girl afraid of sex?

As you probably guessed, Sorority House Massacre treads no new territory in unfolding a very simple (yet somewhat convoluted, if the two can coexist) plot. It should surprise no one that Beth has mentally blocked some horrific childhood trauma that, whaddya know, involves the same man slashing his way through her gal pals and their terribly dressed boyfriends. Today's cinematic self-proclaimed purists can cry all they want about the moral perversion of remakes and Saw sequels, but when the only real thing separating Sorority House Massacre from the Halloween franchise is the holiday of Halloween, I can only roll my eyes.

That being said, I actually enjoyed this film quite a bit. Lead actress Angela O’Neill is a solid center for a surface story, and though none of the kills come with any real surprise, the cast is surprisingly likable in a way that makes their deaths linger sadly. Director Carol Frank opens the film with some eerie dream imagery that I found unsettling, but then again, it could just be because said imagery involved weird My Buddy-esque female dolls. Not that I have any relationship to things like that.

But really, if we need to examine what makes Sorority House Massacre worth watching, it's simple:

-A flannel shirt paired with checkered pans and complemented by an oversized cardigan
-Shoulder pads

-A Working Girl smart business dress suit accented with white cowgirl boots

-The classic two-piece Hawaiian dress
-Monochrome jumpsuits that call to mind Morgan Fairchild's cameo in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

If that wasn't enough to get you off the couch and into the mall, Sorority House Massacre features that tried and true staple of any 1980s girlcentric film: the fashion show montage.

During which, you get boobs. See? Everyone wins! 

High Points

In case I was too subtle, let me be clear: THIS MOVIE INVOLVES A FASHION SHOW MONTAGE WITH JUMPSUITS SET TO OVERENTHUSIASTIC SAXOPHONE MUSIC

Got it?

Low Points

Look, I remember the '80s well enough to know that no killers died on the first try, but after about three false "the killer is dead!" moments, I couldn't muster much more sympathy for the squeamish survivors

Lessons Learned

Dream imagery is a challenging, yet occasionally practical and life-saving college major

When the house mother is away, sorority sisters will play…by trying on each other’s clothing and—GET THIS—eating the missing girls’ ice cream. It’s a “once in a lifetime” opportunity!

One rather skinny mental patient with a mid-sized knife is a force to be reckoned with, so much so that even if there are four of you (including one muscular man), banding together to take said skinny mental patient down is a far worse idea than separating and running for your lives unarmed

Stray Observation

Despite being set in, you know, a SORORITY, Sorority House Massacre stars the least horny male college students ever to be put on film. At least two of the boys decline 'staying the night' despite the cooing pleas of their ladies, while another preaches patience with his virginal girlfriend. What is going on here?

Oh. That.

How '80s Is It?

There's a blond, and her name is Linda. That's basically a birth certificate 

Rent/Bury/Buy

Sorority House Massacre isn’t particularly good, but it’s fairly high caliber quality in the realm of forgettable ‘80s slashers. The gore isn’t outstanding and the story is as original as Ryan Seacrest’s interview questions, but the cast is stronger than average and the utter ‘80s factor is enough to warrant a brief—74 minute!—stream on Netflix Instant. Then go back to gymnastics. Because it can’t be long before that pummel horse makes his real powers of evil known.

KattHouse

House is one of those ‘80s VHS staples that nobody actually seems to remember. While few could forget those luscious mulleted curls exploding out of William Katt’s head, the movie itself always felt more relevant as a perennial fixture (along with its three sequels) on video store shelves. We all THOUGHT we saw it at one point in time, but did we care?

Quick Plot: William Golden God Katt plays Roger Corbett, a successful horror novelist stuck with writer’s block as he struggles to pen his memoirs of his dark secrets in Vietnam. Following the earlier death of his son and subsequent divorce from his primetime soap star wife, Roger moves into the mysterious (and titular) house of his aunt, a batty artist who hanged herself in the film’s prologue.

It doesn’t take long for gooey monsters to pop out of closets and mounted trophy swordfish to flop about-

-yes, just like Billy Bass

It's tough being a writer, as Roger now has to balance ghost hunting/tolerating with remembering his days of combat beside good old genre stalwart Richard Moll. Despite the amusing/annoying aide of nosy neighbor George Wendt, the misdirected flirtations of a sexy foreign neighbor, and the sympathy of his ex-wife, Roger can’t seem to catch a break.

House is a most definite horror comedy, a subgenre that can degrade faster than almost any other with the passage of time. Any comeror or horromedy (yeah, I’ll stop doing that) generally relies on the gameness of its cast and willingness of its audience to let loose and laugh at what, with the removal of a few musical cues or altered facial expressions, is expected to incite fear in another title. 

Does House work? Yes and no. Released in an age rife with haunted homes on camera (the Amityville series and Poltergeist were already sequels in), House has plenty of fun poking around at the squishy goblins and floating tools so identified with ‘80s suburban horror. The monster designs aren’t aiming for a Thing-like iconography, but there’s a great sense of personality about their look that finds a nice balance between the scary and silly. William Katt is one of those innately likable actors with a natural charisma that makes him easy to watch, an important factor since he’s in every scene of the film.

So what doesn’t work? Well, it’s not so much about what fails as much as it is what doesn’t go far enough. House is a tame film, one working hard for chuckles rather than laughs. Directed by Friday the 13th Parts 2 & 3 and Halloween: H20’s Steve Miner, it plays in the shallow end of the gorgeously kept inground pool without daring to cross the deeper territory of Evil Dead 2 or Dead Alive. That’s fine, as an attempt for all-out goofiness that fails can be painful for all involved. But ultimately, it makes House--which went on to slowly reap three sequel(ishe)s--fairly forgettable entertainment.

High Points

Even though he doesn’t get to have quite as much fun as I’d like to see, it’s always pleasant to see Richard Moll working in a film not tarnished by grain on a Mill Creek transfer

There’s a wonderful passing moment where Roger sits down to watch his wife’s Dynasty-like soap, a fine reminder of how great those storylines could be. Sample line of dialogue: “I can’t hide the fact that I’ve been a male prostitute for most of my life.” Can I watch THAT movie please?

Low Points

The tone is more than a bit confusing, especially when we consider the fact that there’s suicide, Vietnam trauma, and a dead child lurking around the peripheral of House’s main plotline

Lessons Learned

The best way to get over an ex you still harbor feelings for? Shoot a monster wearing its clothing

Solitude is always better with someone

When the sexy blond neighbor asks you if you like to play, she might indeed be referring to Chutes & Ladders or Hide ‘n Seek

Fashion Alert

Hey able-bodied men: whenever you’re ready, the world is welcoming of the sexy deep V-neck sweater to make its triumphant return

Rent/Bury/Buy

House is currently streaming on Netflix Instant, which makes it fine for a fluffy afternoon with the kids (minus the suicide and PTSD). It’s light, goofy, but not over the top comedy with the look of a horror film. Nostalgic ‘80s fans will certainly appreciate some of its references, while younger audiences may just find it on their level. Don’t ring the bell expecting to be scared, but do take comfort in knowing you’ll be staring at William Katt’s baby blue eyes for 90 minutes. 

To each her own.