Beneath the Darkness (2011)

     I guess I am a bit of a fan of Dennis Quaid.  If I were to look at it objectively, I would realize that there is no reason to be.  Sure, there are films like Breaking Away (1979), The Right Stuff (1983), D.O.A. (1988), and Smart People (2008) that are in the decent to great range where Quaid's performance matters.  But there are many more awful – albeit some in a very enjoyable way – movies featuring Quaid.  The brief list is Jaws 3D (1983), Enemy Mine (1985; I respect what they were going for, but Enemy Mine drags for its entire running time), Innerspace (1987), Flesh and Bone (1993), DragonHeart (1996; now, if you didn't go in expecting the action movie the trailers promised, you are likely to view DragonHeart as a fun fantasy action-comedy with heart), Switchback (1997), Traffic (2000; I know Traffic was widely praised, but I found it to be a disaster that was simultaneously too obvious and lacking in having a substantive point addressed by the material), Cold Creek Manor (2003), The Day After Tomorrow (2004), Flight of the Phoenix (2004), the remake of Yours, Mine, and Ours (2005), Vantage Point (2005; I don't want to fault Quaid for the overall quality of the film – the plot is just rife with holes), Legion (2009), and G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra (2009; see Vantage Point for fitting criticism).  But there is something likeable about Quaid, a rough charisma that works when he is the man forced into the 'heroic' role.  As a villain, he has a tendency to overact to the point of ridiculousness.
     Put Beneath the Darkness (2011) in that category.  Quaid plays Ely Vaughn, who runs the local funeral parlor in a Texas small town.  It being in Texas is kind of thrown in as an aside, as no one has much of a Texan accent (from any part of the state) and the people certainly don't seem as devoted to high school football as they are suggested to be by TV, movies, and real life.  The sheriff does where a cowboy hat, but a lot of lower budget movies struggle to find distinctive headwear for small town sheriffs.  Anyway, Ely is mildly creepy guy who recently lost his wife.  Well, she is dead but decidedly not lost.  Movie wouldn't work if she were dead and lost.
      Ely is also a kind of obsessive whose tendencies are restricted to one particular province of his life.  While I'm sure somebody thought this was a good idea – because many obsessives can lead functional lives – it plays as both false and as being an obvious plot device.  What kind of guy would Ely be if he didn't keep his dead wife's body around for company?  What movie would there be?
     Chances are, a much better one.  Much of the time given to the Ely character is utterly wasted, especially given how Quaid has no consistent physicality for the character.  Is he the guy who can shrink into himself, blend in to a crowd, and appear to be the mild-mannered minder of the dead, or the brute who can lift a high school athlete off his feet by grabbing him – one-handed – about the neck?  Similarly, the teen protagonists/potential victims are given a fair amount of screen time only to be developed in clichéd broad strokes.  Even the circumstances that should make Travis (Tony Oller) unique come across like they were borrowed from The X-Files (1993-2002) and number of supernatural themed low-budget horror movie.
     For some reason, it isn't supposed to matter that Travis steals the star QB/kind-of-friend's girlfriend.  Now, if I am going to be honest in my recollection, my friends in high school didn't mind going after girls other guys (even friends) were dating.  How much more miserable would I be today if I had followed that route?  But seldom is this kind of behavior endorsed as being appropriate for teen heroes in a (soft) horror film.  The girlfriend in question is Abby, played by Aimee Teegarden.  Teegarden comes across as the kind of actress forced upon audiences, the kind that is serviceable but not quite ready for a good deal of screen time.  Moreover, she comes across as though she were playing an updated Topanga Lawrence from Boy Meets World (1993-2000).
     The are holes in the story that could have been covered with better dialogue and maybe two days of reshoots.  Instead, they stand as a testament that Beneath the Darkness was operating well beneath the desired budget.  The action, what little there is, is lifeless; the suspense nonexistent.  There are worse movies, certainly, but few that seem to be fighting every chance to elevate themselves from sub-mediocrity every step of the way.  I'm not sure Beneath the Darkness has enough of its various elements to satisfy any crowd.  It is too soft for horror fans, too lacking in suspense for thriller junkies, and too stingy with the emotions of the teens to satisfy younger viewers. 

Underworld: Awakening (2012)

     Loud, poorly lit, and clocking in with less than 80 minutes of real movie, Underworld: Awakening (2012) is a prime example of a sequel that comes about not because there is a compelling story to tell in the existent setting but because there is still money to be made from attaching the title to it.  Other than Kate Beckinsale still looking good in the leather outfit and (one would assume) not complaining about the generous amount of wire work necessary for the stunts, I cannot say that there is much going for this movie.  But I could say that about all of the Underworld (2003) movies. 
     Seeing as how I am more than a decade removed from the last time I played or ran a White Wolf Storyteller System game – Vampire: The Masquerade, Werewolf: The Apocalypse, Mage: The Ascension, Wraith: The Oblivion (very under-loved), or Hunter: The Reckoning were the ones I considered worth playing – it should not be surprising that I don't have much passion left for the general high-energy vampire vs. werewolf concept.  These are beings that live quite a long time and can act rationally, but we never get to see clever politicking or subtle manipulation of the enemy.  Everything is machine-pistols, weird swords, unbelievably dangerous (to the user) whips, and bouncing off the walls.
     I remember the first movie at least being consistent within itself and setting up a coherent story.  Then Underworld: Evolution (2006) introduced the problem of geography (just where exactly were these characters?) and relied heavily on the something is after the heroes device to eat up screen time with chases and fights.  I skipped the next film (I guess I really do just want to see Beckinsale in the outfit) because I assumed that by going into the past, it would simply be going over material that the audience already thought they knew enough about.
     The only positive thing I can say about this movie is that it shows that Charles Dance was wasting his talents in The Golden Child (1986), where he was the best actor in the cast.  He again shows that a skilled actor can take over a scene without needing CGI or a tight leather outfit.  Not that I want to bash Beckinsale.  I have seen her act in movies and know that she can do better than this.  I just think Underworld: Awakening offered a better paycheck than Snow Angels (2007).

How to Write Tales of Horror, Fantasy & Science Fiction (1987)

     How should I describe How to Write Tales of Horror, Fantasy & Science Fiction (1987)?
     Dated?  Sure, to a degree.  Unlike Crawford Killian's Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy (1998), it doesn't waste time with instructions on how to set up a web browser.  It does, however, include at least separate cautions against submitting dot matrix printed manuscripts.  I can view this more nostalgically since I was stuck with a dot matrix printer into the late 1990s.  And while I had no qualms about submitting school work from it (stupid me), I would like to think I would have popped for the $6 to have a decent print job from Kinko's if I were submitting a manuscript from that era.
     The contributing authors, all of whom were members/contributors of the Writer's Digest classes or workshops, were surprisingly willing to demean and criticize not just the work of other authors (and most certainly filmmakers), but those writers themselves.  This strikes a much different note from more recent books that stress such concepts as not looking down on (other) published authors.  Apparently, in the early-to-mid 1980s, it was fine for there to be pure way to write horror – which is the primary format in which the contributors worked – and it was different from the way all those successful, mass market appeal authors.  Except for when they wanted to sing the praises of a Writer's Digest member who also sold a lot of books.
     There wasn't much in practical advice in terms of how to develop horror, fantasy, or science fiction.  I guess that is kind of par for the course with these books; an assumption that one writes in a genre because they have a deep and abiding love of it and can draw from their experiences of what other writers have done with it.  Sure, How to Write Tales of Horror, Fantasy & Science Fiction does encourage prospective writers to read both good and bad genre writing.  How else is one supposed to know what to avoid?  More than that, one is supposed to gain a perspective as to which ideas have been ground into lifelessness – relying on an acceptance of cliché rather than anything the author could shape on his or her own.
     Even with its somewhat nebulous advice, I still found myself believing that I was better informed about different approaches to writing.  It is not filled with writing exercises that bog down writing classes (which have disputable positive impact beyond forcing one to write something), nor is it the how to format your manuscript book (very general advice on that topic).  It is mostly a varied group of authors – some quite famous – being somewhat joyful on the subject of writing.
     It is in giving me some insight into some of the published authors of the era (many of whom I had never heard of, let alone read their material).  As someone who is way behind in terms of his overall familiarity with what has been written – which comes from taking a decade long break from serious reading – I can use something like this as both a resource and a kick in the pants.  
     Now, for the quotes:

          "Technology poses no threat to the future of the book," said a 1984 

           report from the Library of Congress; but dull, uninspired or safe 

           fiction does. – p. 22, J.N. Williamson
     It is funny not just because technology is kicking the printed book's ass, but also because also because how how poorly the book was doing in Orwell's 1984.

           As with introducing a human character, you will need to bring out 

           the oddities of your alien gradually; remember that long strings of 

           adjectives are more like inventories than descriptions. – p. 58,
           Ardath Mayhar
     I would love for someone to print this out and paste it to the keyboards of certain writers.  Henry Lopez comes to mind.  "Heavy is the Head" is a prime example of a violation of this general principle.

          Don't mistake action for suspense.  A good novel must be filled 

          with action, and the characters must be kept in meaningful motion; 

          however, a tale can be composed of one gunfight and wild chase 

          after another yet be totally lacking in suspense.  Action becomes 

          suspenseful only if you write with a full understanding of the 

          following two truths: (1) suspense in fiction results primarily from 

          the reader's identification with and concern about lead characters 

          who are complex, convincing, and appealing; and (2) anticipation 

         of violence is infinitely more suspenseful than the violence itself.
         – p. 60, Dean R. Koontz

          There is nothing wrong with [daydream fiction].  (The only people 
          opposed to escape are jailers.) – p. 81, Darrell Schweitzer
     I just really like this general idea.  That fantasy (however one applies the term) is not inferior because it is fantasy.  It can only be inferior if it is written worse than the alternatives while having less to say.

          No writer has orchestrated terror in prose more carefully than 

          Lovecraft, but you won't learn how to write dialogue or deal 

          with character from him. – p. 97, Ramsey Campbell
     And now I understand why I don't think much of H.P. Lovecraft as an author.  Because I am all about character and dialogue (usually to the point that the plot gets washed away, which is a problem); I want those elements to be strong in what I read.

          Always have a rough idea of your first paragraph before you sit

          down to write, and then you won't be trapped into fearing the 

          blank page. – p. 99-100, Ramsey Campbell
     This may be the best general advice on how to proactively deal with writer's block.

          Unless you're fairly sure that you have an unstoppable need to 

          write, you're probably better off putting this book down and 

          going about your business. – p. 147, Alan Rodgers
     No need to sugar coat it, right?  Seriously, the contributors make quite a few efforts to let the reader know that the life of a writer may not be a great or profitable one.  Indeed, one of them died of carbon monoxide poisoning in his mobile home (using a gas powered generator for electricity because the power had been turned off).

The Darkest Hour (2011)

     Wasting little time establishing characters or their lives, The Darkest Hour (2011) does everything it can to get right to its alien invasion and special effects.  Then, surprisingly, the aliens are largely relegated to the background and the characters who haven't been developed are left to wander through largely undamaged Moscow.  And it is a Moscow full of clean streets – except for people-ash – and upscale shopping malls.  The shots of Red Square essentially scream out "Come visit Moscow, Western tourists."
     Despite its many flaws (some of which I will address), I mostly enjoyed The Darkest Hour.  Even with the cast seeming like they were left on their own, I thought they did a serviceable job in moving the story along with something resembling a human element.  Director Chris Gorak (I've seen both of his feature films!) may have been more concerned with his camera angles and lighting than consistent emotion, but I suspect that the underplaying of the obvious end of the world fits with the target audience's attitude about everything that isn't them. 
     The Darkest Hour rates ahead of many other films that have been set behind the old Iron Curtain, not in small part because it had a decent production budget.  However, the limits of that budget can be seen a little too often.  There is the time killing not-quite montage that lets us know the prospective heroes have spent five days in a storeroom (that always has light, even at night, despite the fact that the electricity wasn't working at the time), the complicated overuse and under-use of the aliens making electronic devices function just by being near them (we all know that when a cell phone powers up, it rings...right?), and the very disappointing reveal of the aliens once they are made visible – it is not as awful as the CGI shark that eats Samuel L. Jackson in Deep Blue Sea (1999), but it is not much better.
     There is some poor understanding of history (or at least the presentation of it) with the Russians who will not retreat from their homeland and who will battle the aliens no matter what.  Then again, I have no idea what kind of factual history was taught during the waning days of the U.S.S.R., so maybe this is a good representation of what those characters would believe.  Of course, the story also features a pack of characters who are in Moscow (on purpose) who cannot speak nor read Russian.  But rather than have this contribute to the strangeness and sense of danger or doom, most of the Russian characters can speak English so as to move the story along.
     I do like that the film doesn't mind killing its characters, but there is one character who was screaming to be killed (in gloating over the aliens) and it didn't happen.  That kind of bummed me out, but I guess whether that death happened or didn't, it would be the same cliche.  The Darkest Hour doesn't run from cliches, but it does try to keep them in their place; they help establish the world more than the expectations of the story.  Okay, the entire plot is essentially a kind of cliche by now, but wholly reworking it would just be an avant-garde experiment. 
     Gorak tried a little bit of that in his first feature, Right at Your Door (2006).  It felt forced there, and I would like to think he thought that being more traditional approach would be more palatable.  What I think he needed was a larger cast of starting characters, and for those characters to have been developed.  The Darkest Hour is, essentially, a disaster movie.  The formula is to get us to care about the characters and their situations, and then to watch their struggles after the disaster.  Like in The Grey (2011), it is acceptable to slowly kill off those characters.  Actually, it would make a hell of a lot more sense to do it in an alien invasion movie than a trek-through-the-wilderness-while-not-being-smart-enough-to-make-spears-to-fend-off-the-wolves movie.
     The Darkest Hour – it doesn't require much thinking or commitment to its characters, not does it have the best effects (but the people turning to dust it cool), but it is a fun diversion. 

Fear the Fever – Hot Blood #7 (1996)

     Do erotica and horror go well together?  Should they?  I know that there has been a steady stream of sexuality in horror, but most of that seems to be there for the plausibility of having a moral to the slasher (sexual stalker) story.  It should appear valid on its face that we would not – if we have any interest in healthy psychosexual development – wed horror or terror to sexual arousal.  Because we can train ourselves to be aroused by things that just aren't right.
     Having written that little self-important cautionary note, I still went and read the seventh book in the Hot Blood Series, Fear the Fever (1996).  Not that I had ever heard of the series or read the other books.  I may be a fan of (well done) horror films, but I don't have much experience with the genre in short story or novel form.  Same with erotica; as a guy, I am much more acquainted with pornography.  Mind you, I don't mind pornography with a story (I think that there should be a reason for whatever is going on/being described/visually depicted, and that usually is accomplished by having some kind of plot-like element), but erotica seems to be of the mind to titillate without having the end purpose of serving as a masturbatory aid.  Who has time for that when there is so much in the realm of Literature I have yet to read?
     No, I went and had my library hunt this book down because Stephen Woodworth – author of the Violets series, starring Natalie Lindstrom – had a short story in it.  Same reason I went and read the book of zombie short stories back in December.  Sure, I could learn my lesson; read Woodworth's novels when they come out, avoid his short stories because I find the books (on the whole) lackluster.  But if I did that, how would I know what shape the erotic horror short story had been in 16 years ago?
     Like all of the short story anthologies I've seen, it was quite uneven.  The book opens with what is, effectively porn.  Porn with a story, sure, but porn.  Then it moved on to a werewolf sex story (where the werewolves were members of the undead, and that just pisses me off; I know there is a school of though that places them there, but I come from the D&D mold, and lycanthropes simply ain't undead...try turning one) which seemed to fit both the horror and erotica elements, but also fell short of explaining one key point.  Next was the story that drew me to the book, Woodworth's "Purple Hearts and Other Wounds".  Not great.  There are hints at what his writing style would become, sure, but it is too quick to move through its paces to develop any sense of dread or horror.  And Woodworth's Vietnam seemed to be one drawn from half-remembered scenes of Hamburger Hill (1987) or Platoon (1986) than any research on the war itself.
     From that point on there were some good stories sprinkled in with the bad.  Wendy Rathbone tried to turn the pain and struggle of a boy fighting his sexuality into entertainment (and it reads as unpleasantly as one would imagine).  Jack Ketchum and Edward Lee team up to write a story that would be a fitting episode for an erotic version of Creepshow (1982) or if Playboy TV did a version of Tales from the Darkside (1983-88).  It is also full of odd technical lingo (specific to fungi), which is infuriating because of the total disregard to actual functional biology.  John F.D. Taff plays with the idea of a magical tattoo in a story that really doesn't deliver.  He struggles with setting and characters – his forced imaginings of Bohemians feels worse than false, it feels like a purposeful lie.  And the moment that should be the most important, touching event in the story is glossed over in favor of moving the character to a sense of nothingness – he has no identity but wants to give his love to someone? – and then to being nothing.  This apparently is a problem for a lot of younger writers, but one that an editor should have caught and corrected.
     Lois Gresh doesn't bother to do any research on actual fetishists (she drew on her own, one-time experience with a man who professed a foot fetish) for her story, and it makes it unbelievable.  There are moments of decent erotica in it, but overall it is a disappointment.  Editor Jeff Gelb fills his story with interjections of music from the era in which he set it (why?) and doesn't bother to make any connective tissue between his long set-up and climax.  It is another story that plays false.
     "Two Hands are Better than One" by J.N. Williamson?  Here are my notes on it: Inarticulate writing meets...well, I don’t know what.  It reads a little like a masturbatory version of “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment”.  It takes a long time to tell no story, and it isn’t ever erotic.  It is just kind of sad.
     James Crawford delivers a better than average piece with "Untamed Sex".  I wonder if this was pitched to The Outer Limits (1995-2002) when it was on Showtime but they turned it down because – well take your pick between hints of bestiality and budgetary concerns.  It works more as a Sci-Fi story (kind of rote, but not poorly done) than erotica or straight horror.  Unfortunately it is followed by Patricia D. Cacek's "Metalica", which was more disturbing than anything else.  I took it – hopefully quite wrongly – as a woman living out the fantasy of being raped by her father (or reliving the event) by use of a speculum.
     It gets worse with Tom Piccirilli's "Call It".  He has a problem with tense (I often do, but I try to find my errors before I think I'm finished with a piece), which is problematic for the reader.  What is the greater offense is that there is not point for the story, other than to give the writer a chance to have a character listen to two people fucking over the phone. It still gets worse.  Michael Garrett takes a tender subject and tries to make it shock-entertainment, this time a boy discovering something terrible about his parents.  But it is all narrated (with absence of the responses of the other person in the room) by a boy who can only refer to his father as "My Daddy".  The ending is a prime example of a cop-out of the worst order.
     Nat Gertler tries for horror-humor with sexual elements in "Restin' Piece".  I guess if I found any of it funny I would have liked the story more.  I also would have liked there to have been a reason why the character hearing the story had a reason to be buying drinks for the fellow telling it.  “Flesh and Blood” by Elsa Rutherford was predictable, jumped around for no reason, and had a real high creep factor at the end.  Alan Brennert's "Fantasies" felt undeveloped, and had a bad ending.
     That left “The Secret Shih Tan” by Graham Masterson.  This story was overtly moralistic and exceedingly unerotic – the sex scene felt like it had been imported from something else – but what hurt it most was the absolutely modern setting, coupled with the uncle’s acceptance of the requirements of the book in question.
     Now, I know that nobody else is going to take the time to track this book down.   Well, I suspect more than I know.  I would caution against it.  For the few decent stories, there is just too much crap to make it worthwhile.  Yes, I know that regular folks can just read the good and leave the bad alone (in which case it may make a pleasant diversion).  But taken as a whole, Fear the Fever just left me fearing another collection of erotic horror.

▸    “The Five Percent People” by Lucy Taylor
▸    “Feeding the Beast” by Bruce Jones
▸    “Purple Hearts and Other Wounds” by Stephen Woodworth
▸    “The Sinister Woods” by Wendy Rathbone
▸    “Love Letters from the Rainforest” by Jack Ketchum and Edward Lee
▸    “Orifice” by John F.D. Taff
▸    “Sole Man” by Lois Gresh
▸    “The Portrait” by Jeff Gelb
▸    “Two Hands Are Better Than One” by J.N. Williamson
▸    “Untamed Sex” by James Crawford
▸    “Metalica” by Patricia D. Cacek
▸    “Call It” by Tom Piccirilli
▸    “Daddy’s Dirty Books” by Michael Garrett
▸    “Restin’ Piece” by Nat Gertler
▸    “Flesh and Blood” by Elsa Rutherford
▸    “Fantasies” by Alan Brennert
▸    “The Secret Shih Tan” by Graham Masterson

"The Hour of the Time" (2010)

     I gave a very brief review of Vincent Hobbes' short story "The Hour of the Time" on Goodreads.com on 29 March, 2011.  Very brief.

     This really feels like a story written in a single session with minimal
     revising. And it is entirely too easy to see where it is going because
     I've seen this story before (in different iterations).
     Hobbes manages to find a tone after the first couple of pages, but
     it is so brief that there isn't much to do with that tone.  I think he
     would have been better off developing the setting more and trying
     to see if he could have found a way to convey to the reader that
     the character of Charlie Hoag is one anyone should give a damn
     about.
    Okay for free, but if Hobbes were a friend I would have sent back a
    heavily edited version with notes on what may (because I'm not an
    expert) have made it a better written piece.

     Even with my name attached to it, I feel somewhat protected by the anonymous nature of posting reviews to places like Goodreads or Amazon.  However, in this instance, the author of the piece went and read my (if we are going to be frank about it) less than helpful review.  Worse – from my perspective – rather than rejecting my conclusion or commenting on where I may have missed the point, he decided to like the above review.
     Dammit, Hobbes!  Don't encourage my overly negative, hyper-critical style of commenting on...well, everything.  Seeing as how most of the people who left reviews for it were very pleased, I was clearly in the minority.  But I did read the story, and I'm not without some kind of expectations.  (I didn't pay anything for it because it is available for free on Kindle and Nook.)
     The real question becomes not what I think of this Hobbes' short story (which I do think is a little too obvious in its endgame and not interested enough in developing the setting or singular character), but rather how does one tell a story that the reader most likely has seen before in some other presentation?  As soon as I see that I am writing a story, or part of a story, that I know I am drawing from a single source, I get freaked out and either scratch-out/erase that passage or set the piece aside for a good long time.  I want to avoid frustrating the potential reader so much that my work ends up having little chance of ever getting to them.
     Hobbes finished this story.  It is readable and, after a rough start, finds a decent pace.  But I think he could have developed the specifics of it more to help me (and maybe other readers) get something new from this type of story.

The DVDs I haven't reviewed

     Apparently, I don't give an opinion on everything.  Here's what I haven't posted about, either because I was too lazy or didn't care enough.

AUGUST

Blessed (2006) — So, this was pretty awful.  It is slow, overly low-key, and Heather Graham puts close to nothing into her performance.

Heartland: The Complete Second Season (2008-09) — I only watched one episode, out of devotion to Katharine Isabelle.  But it looked like a decent, mostly wholesome show.  Better than most of the other Canadian offerings as of late.

Snow Angels (2007) — It is hard to make a movie that doesn't note just how unbelievably attractive Kate Beckinsale is.  But there is too much going on in this one, to the detriment of the two major stories at play.  Not a bad movie, but not as focused as it should have been.

SEPTEMBER

Rec (2007) — Good, but I still prefer Quarantine (2008).  There is certainly a different central element at play here.  Much more horror in concept than its American cousin.

The Resident (2011) — This was horrible.  Plodding.  Predictable.  Completely lacking in tension.  I have a hard time believing that both stars wanted to do this movie, but it is hard to criticize working actors when it comes to taking jobs.

Fanboys (2009) — There is a good concept at work here, but the delivery is lacking.  Maybe it would have been better if the movie hadn't be reworked and scenes re-done in an effort to make it more mainstream.  But my main problem was the idea that more Seth Rogen is ever better.

The Special Relationship (2010) — This was a disappointment.  It essentially shows how necessary, but not always friendly, the relationships between Great Britain's Prime Minister and the American President.  Too much time was spent on tidbits and too little on the meat of the relationship.  Really felt more like an old-school Network TV movie.

Limitless (2011) — Not bad, but I found myself eager for this one to end.  If Cooper weren't so charismatic, I don't know if it would have gotten a release.

Thor (2011) — I hated this movie.  Just hated it.

X-Men: First Class (2011) — I liked this prequel, but will continue to wonder why starting the X-Men as the comics started is an impossibility.

OCTOBER

Definitely, Maybe (2008) — I have a man-crush on Ryan Reynolds.  He is great in this, as is Isla Fisher.  This could have been tighter, but it is one of the better rom-coms I've seen in a while.

Scream of the Banshee (2011) — Ugh. 

Mirrors (2008) — Too much early action, not enough of a slow build for my tastes.  I also couldn't understand why prime real estate was just sitting there waiting to claim victims with its haunting.

Ann Rule Presents The Stranger Beside Me (2003) — Yeah, this was a TV movie that did nothing to give a better idea of how the people close to Ted Bundy had no idea he was a serial killer.

NOVEMBER

Feast (2005) — Hey, Krista Allen keeps her top on.  I actually like Feast, but it is a flawed horror film.  One of the better creature features I've seen from the modern era, but too casual with how the characters are disposed of.

Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda: Season One (2000-01) — Much worse than I remember.  Hard to see how this ran for five seasons.

Killshot (2008) — Mickey Rourke as a Native American hitman.  If the film had centered on him, I think it would have appealed to me more.  The victim characters are underdeveloped (but played by likeable actors), and that means that there isn't any investment in terms of what happens to them.

DECEMBER

Bond of Silence (2010) — TV movie that wastes the talents of Kim Raver and Greg Grunberg.

Red (2010) — A little too over-the-top for me, but at least Red was entertaining.

Gene Roddenberry's Earth Final Conflict: Season One (1997-98) — Wow.  There was actually a good show here in the first season.  Sure, it had too many campy moments, but it really looked like it was laying the groundwork for a great humans vs. aliens, cloak and dagger series.

Attack the Block (2011) — I was rooting for the aliens for most of this.  Just couldn't root for the wanna-be thugs.

JANUARY

Adventureland (2009) — Hey, its Ryan Reynolds having sex with Kristen Stewart.  I kind of expect that to happen in real life.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011) — Somehow, this was worse than the original trilogy.  And they managed to add a bunch of characters I couldn't be bothered to care about.  Note to Disney: these movies can all be an hour shorter.

Gene Roddenberry's Earth Final Conflict: Season Two (1998-99) — Robert Leeshock (not pictured above) takes over as the lead and the show goes to hell.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  But killing off the main character and removing the subtlety made this show go from good to awful in about two episodes.

Shark Night (2011)

     Had I seen Shark Night (2011) in the theater, well it would have have a ridiculous 3D attached to its name and I would have gotten up to go ask for my money back (or a ticket for a different show) once the time lapse montages started.  I really don't want something that screams mid-1980s without honoring that era.  The rules for watching a movie at home are quite different however, and I found myself able to make it most of the way through the film without wondering why I had gone through the trouble to see it.  Seriously, I made it 1:17:31 into the film before I had to pause it and just figuratively scratch my head.  What else should have filled up the slot I used to make sure I got this movie?
     I guess my biggest complaint is that director David R. Ellis (former actor, former stuntman) has no idea what kind of tone he is setting.  In what should be a ridiculously funny, over-the-top absurdist commentary on horror films that rely on creatures and scary Southerners, Ellis instead seems to be all ahead full on dull and listless.  What I suppose were meant to be scary moments have all of the plausibility of the shark eating the gorilla from The Simpsons (1990-present) episode "Lisa the Vegetarian".  If you find the video scary, then Shark Night will work for you.

     It isn't as though Ellis' record is a straight string of abject disasters.  Both Final Destination 2 (2203) and Cellular (2004) are decent, engaging flicks that find a way to mix humor with tension (more humor in the former than the latter).  But one also has to look at Snakes on a Plane (2006) and The Final Destination (2009), both quite properly loathed movies.  I would have thought that TFD was so poorly received that it would have kept any studio from even thinking about letting Ellis helm a film with a budget over $20 million. But if TFD didn't kill the Final Destination series, I shouldn't expect to be strong enough to derail Ellis' career.
     The problem with Shark Night is that there is no horror, nor terror, and not really any gore.  I am not going to complain that it isn't chock full of gratuitous nudity, but it threatens to be that kind of movie without wanting to cross the threshold into being an R-rated movie.  Why is anyone making a PG-13 horror film?  The answer is because it means more teenagers can pay to see it, and that is where horror films make their bank at the box office.  The problem is that unless the writer and director commit to a slow, steady building of threat and tension, horror films need real violence, gore, and some fucking cursing.
     Borrowing too heavily from Jaws (1975), Shark Night starts – after a lengthy, off-putting title sequence – with a female swimmer getting all eaten by a shark.  Fantastic.  Because it isn't as though Jaws was about managing economic interests versus protecting the innocent people from a man-eating shark, and the struggle from three different men to work together to end the threat.  Except that it is.  Shark Night is about a bunch of leaping sharks being able to swim faster than boats and the people who apparently have some ability to dictate there whereabouts so that the sharks only pose a danger when it is convenient for the plot.  Or what passes for a plot.
     Personally, I spent a good portion of the film wondering if Chris Carmack was somehow created by splicing the DNA of Marc Singer and Casper Van Diem, or if he was just told to have his character act like he was the result of the unlikely mating of the two actors.  That happily distracted me from the fact that his character never sued the ultra-rich parents of the girl who ripped half his face off with a propeller and then used those proceeds to fund his miscreant schemes.  None of the characters are well developed, but at least the actors help that out by not doing much to make the audience care about them.
     Shark Night could have been incredibly worse, but it would have to try to be to get there.  As an attempt at competent film-making, it fails (of gets a low D), but that has to do with the undercranking (or whatever causes fast motion on digital cameras) that makes for shots that evoke memories of The Munsters (1964-66) intercut with overcranked shots (resulting in slow motion).  Then there is the poor alterations of the coloration to make scenes shot during the day look like they were done at night.  And that the shots that were done in front of a green screen can't match even that horrible look.  Here's my advice for a film that has only a $25 million budget.  Spend less on shots of sharks leaping out of the water and more on making sure the shooting script can allow for us to give a damn.

The Host (2006)

     It seems like only a half a decade ago that I was roaming about inside the local Blockbuster video when I came across the box for The Host (2006), a mildly praised Korean creature feature.  It looked like it may have been worth seeing, but at the prices the old blue & yellow used to charge, I never took the plunge and actually gave it a chance.  Now, there is no local Blockbuster (there actually is, but it is not very accessible and the idea of driving to and from a store to rent a movie feels a little ridiculous at this point) and the cost to see The Host has dropped to $0.  That made it much easier for me to sit down and watch it.
     I don't think I can give a fair review of The Host, though.  The humor went beyond just not appealing to me; I actually was offended – intellectually, not culturally – by it.  It wasn't just that the humor was juvenile and dependent on the idea that the single father is a total loser (from a family of questionable abilities), but that it stood in an odd contrast to the monster horror that was competing for screen time in the movie. Rather than serve as a counterpoint to the tension of the terror of a beastie running about, the humor undercut the supposed seriousness of the situations and made it harder to simply give a damn about the characters.
     As far as the horror element went, I found it lacking.  The creature is appropriately havoc-inducing when it is introduced to the people on the banks of the Han River, but quickly becomes a beastie that seems to have an agenda.  That would be awesome if it were true, but beasties don't get to have agendas.  So it becomes a monster that has several filler scenes and can't figure out an efficient or logical way of killing the inhabitants of the film world it is destined to kill. 
     I was more than a little surprised by how anti-American the film was, though in a mild way.  The beastie is the result of an American doctor deciding it was a good idea to dump toxic materials down the drain (and thus into the local river).  Then again, there is some heavily implied that there were Koreans who were also complicit in these activities.  An American serviceman is first seen as the supposedly heroic foil to Gang-du (Kang-ho Song), but then becomes a means to introduce a type of panic that results in a government crackdown on the people that is supported by the American military and CDC.  The Americans are not so much concerned with saving any Koreans from the beastie or some sort of plague that may be spread by the beastie as they are in keeping the oppressive regime in charge (and maybe American troops within the country).
     I don't know that I have been as mildly disappointed in a movie as I was with The Host.  I have no idea what the people who gave it high praise were thinking or expecting.  I am not the type to be so easily impressed that a foreign film has a budget of more than $100,000.  While I may be missing out on so much by not being fluent in Korean (though I'm betting that the jokes are largely the same as many rely on the physicality of the scenes), I think that the lack of consistent central tone (humor with shades of horror or horror with shades of humor) make it an inherently flawed movie.

The Caller (2011)

     Playing like an overlong and underfunded episode (specifically "Sorry, Right Number") of Tales from the Darkside (1983-88), Matthew Parkhill's The Caller (2011) manages to be mildly entertaining even as it strains whatever passes for credibility when the central premise is that a phone can connect callers separated more by years than miles.  Unfortunately, it cannot build or maintain any amount of tension, both of which are necessary for a story like this.
     Part of the problem may come from an inability to develop the story in a more nuanced manner.  Mary (Rachelle Leferve) is going through a divorce with a mildly abusive (more menacing and overbearing than anything else) mistake of a husband, Steven (Ed Quinn).  This is handled in a rather obvious, straightforward manner, which deprives any kind of slow build up of the level of threat Mary feels in her just walking around world.  As such, the would-be ex-husband never resonates as anything other than filler material.
     Another part of the problem is that Mary is not consistent in regards to temperament.  She has weird, seemingly random moods swings between being sweet, suspicious, skittish, and oblivious.  She also has no visible means of support or manner to kill time other than the one night class for which she signs up.  More than that, Mary isn't very bright.  In her few fits of being too trusting, she brings all too obvious ruin to her future past-self.
     While The Caller is set on Puerto Rico, in the town of Ceiba.  We mostly know this because Mary's father was stationed at the nearby naval air station Roosevelt Roads.  There is also an off-hand remarks about immigrants getting on the wrong boat and missing New York harbor by quite some distance.  What we don't see are many Puerto Ricans or people speaking Spanish.  While the territory is multilingual, the film makes no effort to make much of the setting.  I felt that not making the most of the setting robbed the movie of an opportunity to escape the generic city setting that many lower budget horror films effect.
     There isn't any gore or gratuitous violence in The Caller.  Indeed, Parkhill does try to make it a supernatural suspense thriller.  The problem is that neither he nor screenwriter Sergio Casci break far enough out of the mold to not have a succession of telegraphed scenes.  On the other hand, it is far more satisfying as a film than many of the larger budget horror/suspense films that have been trotted out over the past few years.

The Dark (2005)

     John Fawcett directed one of my favorite movies.  Actually, it is the only movie that I wish I had directed (and I am not a director, nor am I anywhere near being a director), flaws and all.  That movie is not The Dark (2005).
     Not that I can entirely fault Fawcett for the problems I had with the movie, but his use of some of the camera techniques – and I am going to presume his hand is at work with some of the editing – that have been ruining modern horror films draws much of the moodiness and all of the etherealness from the film.  John Carpenter noted that he fucked up his version of The Fog (1980) by having it feel too grounded and solid.  The Dark may not be either of those, but instead of ghostly or dreamlike, it goes for washed-out color and moldy-looking.  Maybe that is Welsh Hell, but it isn't scary.  Worse, it isn't particularly engaging.
     No, the real problem comes from having a victim who just sort of is – Sarah (Sophie Stuckey) is both underdeveloped and unlikeable – and a mother (Maria Bello) who needs absolutely no nudging to full-on acceptance of the supernatural events.  That could work for me, but it would require setting the story around the beginning of the 20th Century, not the 21st.  There is no development of the mythology driving the supernatural forces.  Oh, and there is a prime assumption that sheep are scary.
     I do remember when this film was in theaters and how much I wanted to see it.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it was because I hadn't learned that Sean Bean isn't given much to do in movies (at least not in the ones I've seen).  Maybe I thought it would be a slow, moody, psychological examination of a parent descending into madness because of the loss of a child (I think this is what the ads promised).  Instead, it comes across as a film that spent its budget in an odd fashion – those boat searching scenes probably cost more than any special effects sequence – with an obligatory unhappy ending.

Red State (2011)

     Kevin Smith's Red State (2011) stands as a near perfect example of how not to tell a story in film.  From its awkward imposed monologues to insert expository material to its inconsistent, schizophrenic emotional tone, to its thorough lack of any point or entertainment value as a whole, this movie is an unabashed disaster.  That is not to say that there have not been worse movies made, but I seriously doubt the directors of those have been as smug or self-satisfied as Smith seems to be with his own work.  If I were more generous, I could point out that Smith could have broken this into three separate films – each of which would have allowed for traditional storytelling or plot structure – and been better off for it.  His attempt to mash the disparate elements together comes off as amateurish and unimpressive; he should definitely be beyond the first by now.
     The sole bright point of the movie was the character of Cheyenne (Kerry Bishé), who has some depth and meaning beyond the leaden sermons and grindhouse style action sequences.  That writer-director Smith does not know what to do with the character – with any of the characters – may prove that Smith just isn't fit to be making films at this point.  Bishé stands out against the more established actors in being able to depict internal conflict without being obvious or dropping into caricature.  That may just be the writing, or Smith may have just decided that there only needed to be one role that really made the idea of conflicted loyalties and obligations well.  (I don't want to rag on Michael Angarano, an actor I usually enjoy, but he is not given enough to do – and what his character is allowed to do is often poorly shot – and his character feels thoroughly false.)
     There are many bad things I could write about this film, but what's the point?  It has the one bright spot.  Think of it as the cupcake in the pile of shit.  No matter how much you like cupcakes – and if you aren't starving – you aren't going for the one steeped in manure.  There isn't any social commentary here (though I'm sure Smith thinks there is).  It isn't the "actor's catnip" he thinks it is – who would want to be a part of something like this? – and it isn't going to matter in the space of a year.  All Red State did for me was convince me that Smith has no voice past Clerks II (2006).

Stake Land (2010)

     Sure, the impetus behind calling the film Stake Land (2010) seems to be to cash in on the success Zombieland (2009); the awkward announcement of a vampire-ridden America as "Stake Land" feels not so much self-aware as aware of the zombie-themed flick.  Stake Land also fails to explain how Mister (Nick Damici, who also co-wrote the script) knows so much about the various types of vamps while the general population breaks down rather easily into victims, huddled masses, and cultists.  But even with its flawed storytelling – and seeming to borrow from Kevin Costner's The Postman (1997) – the movie is rather enjoyable.
     The story is straight forward, with a few complications along the way to draw it out.  There are the vampires – and everybody should be afraid of them.  There are people trying to survive – they are very afraid of the vampires, and often their victims.  There are a few hunters – Mister being the one featured in the movie – who are unwilling to wait out the end of the world in quite desperation.  Then there are the religious crazies – claiming a brand of Christianity that has the vampire plague as God's means of cleansing the Earth for the True Believers and what I presumed to be their New Jerusalem – and they are the real bad guys.  They are the ones who take the situation from 'oh, this is bad' to 'well, the President's dead and all of the cities have been infected'. 
     It may help to think of Stake Land as a road movie with lots of dangerous, bloodthirsty obstacles.  The buddy-buddy element may play a little false (Connor Paolo's Martin is too slight a character to be any kind of equal to Mister), but there is a believable dynamic between the two main characters.  As one might expect in a horror film, not everyone is in it for the long haul.  But most of the deaths and slayings have a purpose beyond mere horror convention.  The action is a little more comedic than I would have preferred, especially given the more mature themes director and co-writer Jim Mickle is striving to explore, but it is effective.
     Damici plays Mister in a way that makes one think he could be Harvey Keitel's younger brother.  There is menace and sensitivity at the same time, almost all the time.  Paolo keeps Martin emotionally restrained through most the movie – which makes sense given his traumas.  The rest of the cast is serviceable, never overshadowing the leads or drawing away from the immersion in the setting.
     I say give Stake Land a chance if you haven't seen it.  This is the kind of independent horror that comes around too infrequently; we certainly don't see it from the studio films.  It may not be a cinematic classic, but it certainly isn't the dreck that constitutes the majority of horror offerings.

TV Shows That Didn't Change the World

      There is a lot of pretension that comes when people evaluate the TV shows and movies they like.  Many insist that their favorite shows somehow changed the world. Some people have (quite incredibly) made that claim about Firefly (2002), a show that was entertaining but flawed enough that FOX couldn't attract any viewers even with constant promotion (fans who discovered the show on DVD make the claim that FOX killed the show by airing episodes out of order or insisting on a pilot episode that would entice people to want to see more of the show, but as they didn't watch it when it was on I ignore their ill-informed repetitions of other people's opinions).  Likewise, people have made the claim about The Cosby Show (1984-1992) – a show that may have changed Middle America's attitude about black families – but seeing as how I watched about 80% of the first four seasons and all I can remember is that Theo tried listening to MacBeth on a record and Ridy had a friend named Bud, I am not going to treat it as a game changer.
      I would dare say that most of the shows that I spent my time watching were so much fluff that I couldn't ask anyone to believe that they have had any kind of lasting impact or deeper meaning.  Such is the fate of anyone who has dedicated entirely too much time plopped in front of the tube, effectively doing nothing.  But there are some shows of which I am quite fond that never really seemed to get their due.  None of them were high art, ratings darlings, or critically acclaimed.  Still, these shows – all of which aired at some point in the 1990s – that didn't change the world deserve a few words. 

5) Tour of Duty (1987-1990)

     No doubt put on television in an attempt to cash in on the success of Oliver Stone's Platoon (1986), Tour of Duty (1987-1990) started off as a promising in the bush combat show, one that would allow for something beyond the allegory Stone employed.  Unfortunately, cast changes – some due to character death – and altering the tone to allow for soapy romantic interplays (not really necessary in a TV show about how the men of Bravo Company endure the war) robbed the show of its distinctive feel.  Moving the filming location from Hawaii to a Hollywood backlot also made it feel less authentic.
     Still, there is something raw (for the era) about Tour of Duty.  It addresses racial inequity and tension, and not in some kind of enlightened way.  Lt. Goldman (Stephen Caffrey) and SSgt. Anderson (Terrence Knox) may have great affection for their black soldiers, but they take almost no action to limit the racism of the white soldiers; it is the late 1960s and they don't have the answers.  This is a show that aired before "nigger" became the n-word, as is evidenced by it being used on multiple occasions (including in the pilot).
     Sadly, for all the good of Tour of Duty – it has good production values for its era, the action (especially in the first season) is compelling, the characters feel real – it simply feels lifeless once the period appropriate music is removed from it.  So much of the mood is killed that it makes the show seem second rate.  That, and the knowledge that the producers felt a need to compete with ABC's China Beach (1988-1991) for female viewers (not a battle they were going to win) by making it less of a combat-focused show keep it from being an all-time favorite.  But there are more than enough great episodes (mostly from Season One) to keep this show in mind when it comes to thinking about a time when the networks didn't have cable competition and were still willing to take chances.
     I have actually met and had brief conversations with series regular Miguel A. Nuñez, Jr. and guest star Tim Thomerson ("They Good, the Bad, and the Dead", 1987). Both felt that Tour of Duty never got its proper due from critics but that fans – especially those who have served in the military – have continued to be enthusiastic about it even 20 years after its cancellation.  I cannot speak for the critics of the era, but I do know that Tour of Duty started off as a show that was willing to let the soldiers be afraid of the threat of combat and desiring little more than making it through the day in one piece.  It wasn't the rah-rah piece that Combat (1962-67) or Baa Baa Black Sheep (1976-78) were, but it fell short of giving the audience a real feel of the dangers of war (I blame the era) while striving to be more realistic.
     I say give Season One a chance.  Forget that it doesn't have the period music and concentrate on the relationships between the characters or how nothing is ever as simple as a TV show of the time should have had it.

4) The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. (1993-94)

     Back before Bruce Campbell got fat or producer Carlton Cuse found success with Nash Bridges (1996-2001) and Lost (2004-10), there was a show on FOX with cowboys, rockets, and prostitutes.  And it wasn't Firefly.  Sure, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. (1993-94) had some issues balancing the campy humor with western action, but Campbell was perfect as the Harvard educated lawyer who turned bounty hunter to avenge his murdered father.  There were elements of the supernatural and science fiction, but the show mostly existed to give a humorous take on the dime novel stories of cowboys and villains.
     The cast – limited as it was – could not have been better.  Campbell knows how to play charming, bordering on (but stopping short of becoming) smarmy.  Fit and young, he plays the role like a Han Solo in the fading days of the Wild West who is unburdened by a Luke Skywalker.  Filling in the Chewbacca role was Julius Carry's Lord Bowler, though Bowler begins the series as a friendly adversary of Brisco.  Christian Clemenson rounded out the regulars as the uptight lawyer for the Westerfield Club, Socrates Poole.  All seemed to luxuriate in their roles without crossing the line into self-involvement.  Recurring characters like Dixie Cousins (Kelly Rutherford), Professor Wiskwire (John Astin), Whip Morgan (Jeff Philips), Pete Hutter (John Pyper-Ferguson, perhaps the ultimate TV guest star of the 1990s-present), and John Bly (Billy Drago) provided a sense of continuity and always matched the main cast in terms of tenor and tone.
     Brisco County was like the Deadlands RPG without the need for giant monsters or a Southerner's fantasy about the CSA enduring. It debuted in the same season as The X-Files (1993-2002) – and served as the latter's lead-in – and was actually the more enjoyable show of the two.  What The X-Files had was a monster-of-the-week formula it could through in to break up the alien mythology episodes, and that was wholly lacking on television at the time.  Brisco County had the additional burden of people thinking that it was a Western – a genre that draws less interest on television than mild sci-fi – and that kept some people at bay.  I would assume that anyone looking for a traditional Western would have been downright angry at the mix that Brisco County offered.
     I think there are only three or four dud episodes in the single season of Brisco County.  It was on its way to building a much more accessible and compelling mythology than The X-Files or Lost (2004-2010) with the "device" that set most of the events in motion, but Cuse has made public comments about how he imagined a second season of Brisco County would have moved in a different direction, so maybe it is for the best that it is all contained in the 27 episodes.  I only wish that TNT had produced a TV movie for the last adventure of Brisco and Bowler.

3) Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995-99)

     I remember when I was watching the first run of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995-99) that it was rather silly stuff.  And it still is.  But Hercules is much more fun and consistent than its spawn, Xena: Warrior Princess (1996-2000).  Kevin Sorbo was a more likeable lead than Lucy Lawless (at least at that point in her career) and his Hercules didn't need to spend endless episodes making up for his past misdeeds. One can argue that the Action Pack telefilms and Season One offer little reason to invest in Hercules.  Maybe.  But the show does go on to get better.
     It is never high art.  I don't think anyone ever had any illusions that it was supposed to be.  Sorbo and semi-regular Michael Hurst (as Iolaus) do their best to not let the humor undercut the dramatic tension.  Both managed to make the choreographed combats look interesting (if not realistic in any way).  Recurring guests Robert Trebor (as Salmoneus), Bruce Campbell (as Autolycus, King of Thieves), Alexandra Tydings (as Aphrodite), and the late Kevin Smith (as Ares) managed to match the energy and tone of the regulars in such a way that it was surprising to think that they were not always present.
     Given the limited production budget – somewhat maximized from shooting in New Zealand – it is amazing how good most of the episodes look.  Okay, maybe not some of the costuming, and definitely not the wigs and beards that look like they came out of a high school drama department's stash, but the overall photography and set design are well above average.
     Sorbo went on the make the vastly inferior Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda (2000-2005) and is apparently in the process of making a television show that seems eerily similar to My Name is Bruce (2007).  However, he will likely forever be thought of as Hercules.  And with good reason.  It was a fun show that relied almost entirely on the charisma of its star, and to good effect. 

2) Farscape (1999-2003)

     Nobody makes a soft Southern accent in space sexier than Ben Browder, and not in any intentional way.  Browder's John Crichton character is an RPG player's wet dream – the guy who gets to live the adventure and make constant pop-culture references and in-jokes during the action without breaking the mood.  He is the All-American hero, a Ph.D. and Astronaut who is good looking and (on Earth, at least) suave.
     Sure, Farscape (1999-2003) could have used a much larger production budget and less puppetry, but it endures as a quality show nonetheless. Creator Rockne S. O'Bannon and producers Richard Manning, David Kemper, and Robert Halmi, Jr. were never afraid to throw some darkness into the adventures of the earthling cast out amongst an alien universe.  At the same time, there was always a fair amount of humor to be found.
     The only bad things I have to say about Farscape are that there are four or five episodes that do nothing to drive the story forward or develop the characters and that the wrap-up film, Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars (2004) is too compressed to allow for the character interplay that made the show one of the best programs on during its run.  Browder, Claudia Black, Anthony Simcoe, Gigi Edgely, Virginia Hey, Lani John Tupu, Tammy McIntosh, Raelee Hill, Jonathan Hardy (voice), and Wayne Pygram all seem to find something deeper in the characters than what is on the page. 
     I have never been happier to own a series on DVD than I am with Farscape.  I cannot figure out how it was not picked up for a fifth season (the show's producers and the Sci-Fi Channel – now SyFy – could not come to terms on the production costs), yet Stargate SG-1 (1997-2007) ran for ten seasons.  Maybe having a movie tie-in and an established TV star like Richard Dean Anderson makes all the difference in the world.  But Farscape remains one of the better shows that cable television had to offer at the time, and it didn't need to use frequent swearing or gratuitous nudity and sex scenes to impress critics.

1) Friday the 13th: The Series (1987-1990)

     Sure, there is a pale imitation of Friday the 13th: The Series (1987-1990) on the SyFy channel called Warehouse 13 (2009-present), but the latter has a much lighter, comedic tone.  This is not to say that there wasn't humor in the old Friday the 13th: The Series, but not all of it was intentional.  No, Friday the 13th: The Series was about as close to a horror film as one could sell on American television in the late 1980s.
     The set-up is wholly implausible in every regard.  Antique shop owner Louis Vendredi (R.G. Armstrong) makes a deal with the Devil to sell cursed objects that both wreak havoc in the world and deliver the souls of those who use them to, you guessed it, the Devil.  For some reason, Louis decides he doesn't want to do this anymore and that doesn't want sit well wit Satan.  That sets it up for his distant relatives – this is never clearly established and how they are related changes over the course of the series – Micki (Louise Robey) and Ryan (John D. LeMay) to inherit his shop.  They meet former magician/item procurer/WWII hero Jack Marshak (Chris Wiggins) and find out that they have just unleashed a flood of cursed items into the market.
     The rest of the series is supposed to be an effort to limit the damage these relics can cause, recover them and lock them away.  Louis reappears from beyond the grave a few times to menace the trio, but the show focuses much more frequently on the discovery of one of the items sold well before Micki and Ryan took over the shop.  Ryan exits after a two-part episode that is much more evocative of The Omen (1976) than slasher horror, making room for Johnny Ventura (Steven Monarque).
     While Ryan was really the heart of the series, Season Three has some of the best written episodes and the Johnny character may have developed into a compelling one given more time.  Instead, Paramount shut down production when they had enough material to sell the show in half hour installments overseas (under the name "Friday's Curse").  It would have been nice for Friday the 13th: The Series to have come to a proper conclusion, but that wouldn't be fitting for the horror genre.
     The effects may be cheesy.  The stories may use too many shortcuts that seemed obvious even in the era.  But there is something compelling and fun in the show.  It is one that could use a revisit, provided the right casting and respect of the characters as originally written.  Until then, we are left with the homage on SyFy.