FINAL GIRL explores the slasher flicks of the '70s and '80s...and all the other horror movies I feel like talking about, too. This is life on the EDGE, so beware yon spoilers!
Showing posts with label 1985. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1985. Show all posts

Oct 3, 2019

THE MUTILATOR (1985)

I tells ya, o reader mine, it is not often these days that I'm in the mood for a slasher movie. I know! They used to be my bread and butter, the very reason I started this here blog in the first place. But what can I say? That was nearly 15 years ago. I was only 13, of course I was into slasher movies! The slasher kingdom is ruled by teenagers. Since those long-lost days, sure, I'll put on a classic once in a great while. Many slashers–Black Christmas, My Bloody Valentine, Hell Night, and so on–have a special place in the hole where my heart should be. But new slasher films? No thank you, I say.

But last night, I don't know, a mood came over me. Maybe it's SHOCKtober, maybe it's the Spooky Season in general, who can say. But I had a hankerin' for a hunk o' slasher, and there was The Mutilator, trying desperately to get my attention with its "I'm from the mid-80s, when the slasher was past its prime! Look at my poster, it's so 80s video store lurid! Me! Pick me!" So finally I was like "Okay, The Mutilator, fine! Let's get to know one another." I mean, the poster does exemplify 80s video store luridness, does it not? That tagline! The bikini! The dead bodies! The bloody logo! It's great.


The film begins, as all good slashers must, with the inciting incident, that which gives motivation to the killer. As a birthday gift to his father, young Ed decides to clean his dad's numerous guns. A super great idea! Until Ed accidentally kills his mother. Dad celebrates The Worst Birthday in the History of Ever by getting angry at his son (understandable, but maybe do not keep the cabinet filled with your 465 loaded guns unlocked? Also why all the guns, DAD) and drinking with his wife's freshly-dead body.


I want to start storing all of my liquor in one of those old timey trick globes! The Mutilator is already proving aspirational.

Anyway. We jump into the future (don't get excited, we only go, like, 15 years into the future) and Ed is a college student...or a law school student? it's not entirely clear...and he and his friends are about to embark on their fall break. This fall break is so important that the movie's original title was Fall Break. It's also the name of the movie's theme song, which sounds like a sitcom theme song. It will play approximately 12 times over the course of the film. It's been stuck in my head for about 15 hours now. The Mutilator has changed me.


The "kids" can't decide what they're going to do for this fall break, but then a call comes from Deus Ex Dad–although he's largely ignored Ed since The Worst Birthday in the History of Ever, he desperately needs his son to come close up his beach condo before winter sets in. And so, just like that, Ed and the Gang have something to do.

They arrive at the pigged out condo and marvel at all that awaits within, from the empty booze bottles to a framed photo of a dead body hanging on the wall. Apparently dad ran over the person in the photo with a ski boat and killed him. What better way to show regret than taking a picture of the bloody body and hanging it up, I guess? No one seems to think this is too weird. Also not too weird: the shitton of taxidermied animals, the giant gaff hanging on the wall, the empty spot where dad's "battle axe" should hang.

We've got the gang where all slasher gangs need to go: an isolated location! That can only mean one thing...yes, it's time for sex and partying and murder. We kind of get all of those things. Look, this gang is the absolute squarest fucking gang you will ever encounter in a horror movie. From time to time they drink from a can of Natty Light, sure. One of them even burps one time! But oh my lawd are they square. I love them.

NERDS

Now then, about that murder I mentioned. It eventually arrives. There is no mystery whatsoever about who the killer is. Ed's dad has lured his son and his son's friends here to kill them. Dad does not wear a mask. We see him front and center all the time. We even watch him set up the requisite corpse party! It takes forever for the killings to start, and while they're not nearly as lurid as the poster might lead you to believe, they are pretty clever for the $0.50 budget this film had. Decapitations, bifurcations, guts and blood...it's got some fun gore. Yes, the battle axe comes into play, and so does the gaff, right through one poor nerd's vagina.

Is The Mutilator scary? Absolutely not. Is it "good"? Not particularly. It's roughly 84 minutes long, but it feels at least five times that. There are long stretches with no action that will likely turn off impatient horror fans. And when said "action" kicks into gear, it's about as scintillating as when the waitress refills your coffee at the diner.

All that said, I love it when the waitress refills my coffee, and so it stands to reason that I love The Mutilator. It 100% has that certain charm that can be found only in some vintage off-brand slashers. I'm talking Don't Go in the Woods...Alone! or The Nail Gun Massacre, you know? They don't always succeed, but they often try to have some inventive kills. For the majority of the cast and crew, the movie in question comprises the entirety of their resume. Some "actors" simply came along with the shooting location; just like Nail Gun MassacreThe Mutilator has a pair of shopkeepers who awkwardly deliver some lines and then look at the camera. (I love them.) The dialogue throughout the film is often a delight, such as this exchange between two nerds about to get hot-n-heavy at the pool:

"What's wrong with the water?"
"Looks like it's been loaded down with chlorine."
"Will that hurt you?"
"No. In fact, it probably prevents herpes."

It's always just this side of completely nonsensical and/or inept, like this sequence, where the room is supposedly so dark the character can't see two inches in front of her:


Either you will succumb to this weirdo slasher charms and you will love The Mutilator, or...well, I guess you won't. As for me, I'm going on a fall break!

Oct 11, 2017

SHOCKtober: 427-406



Hey, if you assumed that each film listed today received ONE VOTE, then you didn't make an ass out of u or me! Because they did receive one vote each. Good job.

427. Saturn 3 -- 1980, Stanley Donen & John Barry
426. Scanners -- 1981, David Cronenberg
425. Seance on a Wet Afternoon -- 1964, Bryan Forbes
424. Shallow Grave -- 1987, Richard Styles
423. Shock -- 1977, Mario Bava
422. Signs -- 2002, M. Night Shyamalan
421. Silver Bullet -- 1985, Daniel Attias
420. Sinister -- 2012, Scott Derrickson
419. Sisters -- 1972, Brian De Palma
418. Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers -- 1988, Michael A.Simpson
417. Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland -- 1989, Michael A. Simpson
416. Sleepy Hollow -- 1999, Tim Burton
415. Slut -- 2014, Chloe Okuno
414. Sorority Row -- 2009, Stewart Hendler
413. Southbound -- 2015, Roxanne Benjamin, David Bruckner, Patrick Horvath, Radio Silence
412. Splatter University -- 1984, Richard W. Haines
411. Spookies -- 1986, Genie Joseph, Thomas Doran, Brendan Faulkner
410. Spring -- 2014, Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead
409. StageFright -- 1987, Michele Soavi
408. Stake Land -- 2010, Jim Mickle
407. Starry Eyes -- 2014, Kevin Kolsch & Dennis Widmyer
406. Stephen King's Riding the Bullet -- 2004, Mick Garris

Stephen King's Riding the Bullet, eh? Well good for him, I say!

Listen, I don't want to victim blame but you really can't attend Splatter University and not expect a mess everywhere at best, to be murdered at worst.

If you haven't seen Starry Eyes yet...you really should see Starry Eyes.

And remember, kids, Angela is always watching!


Aug 30, 2010

Film Club: Hellbound

My friends, when this...

...and the name Yoram Globus appeared on my screen at the beginning of Hellbound, everything felt right in the world- right, and decidedly 1985. Now, if you're all "What's the bigs?", then let me tell you: The Cannon Group and Golan-Globus Productions were responsible for a huge chunk of genre output in the late 70s-late 80s, action flicks in particular. From Lifeforce to Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, from American Ninja to American Ninja V, from Breakin' to Electric Boogaloo, from He-Man to every Chuck Norris opus, Cannon simply IS the eighties to a lot of movie nerds, myself included.

Hellbound
hit in 1994, after Menahem Golan left Golan-Globus Productions, and it's terrible, terrible, terrible...by which I mean it's the most awesome thing I'll never watch again. Well, okay- it's not truly awesome, but it's so thoroughly drenched in the essence of awesome that it's a bit hard to tell the difference. It's like the shittiest frozen pizza- you may make a note (mentally or literally) that you'll never buy that brand again...and yet, it's pizza and therefore it's still better than anything that's not pizza.

Oh...fine. Hellbound is crap on a crap stick and there's no getting around it. My love of Cannon, though, makes me a total crap denier. Or not a denier, exactly, but my view can be summed up thusly: yes, it's awful, but it's a Cannon film. So, it's awful but I don't really care. I'll never watch it again, but when I talk about it, I'll probably say things like "Oh, Hellbound was great! You should totally watch it." I'm not sure what kind of person that makes me- obviously not one who can be trusted, but there you go.

Hellbound opens with a text crawl, which lets you know that shit is about to get epic up in here. It begins with "The legend says..." and tells of Prosatanos, an emissary of Satan who's going to bring Hell to Earth and blah blah blah. What legend, exactly? It's THE legend, and that's good enough!

To reinforce the epicness, the action starts during the Crusades, with Knights Templar and King Richard the Lionheart on horseback, heading off to stop Prosatanos from...you know, doing everything the text crawl said he was going to do. They seal him up in a tomb and smash his scepter. There are monster-types in Satanic robes to be defeated, and I begin to think this movie is going to rule my world.

Fast-forward to 1951! The tomb is raided (not by Lara Croft, unfortunately) and Prosatanos is set free.

Fast-forward to Chuck Norris, A.D. and the seedy neon-lit streets of Chicago. Norris is Sergeant Shatter (YES I SAID SERGEANT SHATTER), a tough cop, and he's partnered up with Jackson, a Rick James/Whoopi Goldberg-hybrid stereotype who has GOT to be one of the most irritating characters ever put on any screen of any kind, anywhere. Ever. I hated him. I would rather watch a remake of My Dinner with Andre starring Franklin from The Texas Chain Saw Masssacre and Shelly from Friday the 13th Part 3 than suffer through another second of Jackson's antics.

Anyway, here's what we get in Chicago that had me excited...and mind you, we've already seen Knights Templar. This all just reinforced my hopes that Hellbound would become master of all my children days.
  • a hooker, with a HORRENDOUSLY dubbed voice, who gets all chiropractical on herself
  • said hooker, defenestrated
  • Prosatanos, looking a bit like Phantasm's Reggie Banister, acting a lot like Silent Night, Deadly Night 2's Eric Freeman
  • A heart ripped out of a chest
  • Chuck Norris kicking the shit out of a dude wearing a snakeskin tanktop
  • Antiquities kept in fannypacks
  • A hardass police captain who surely would have been more at home raping female convicts with broomhandles in some women-in-prison exploitation flick
  • Chuck Norris in a high-waisted, shoulder-padded teal suit

I mean...I mean...SEE WHAT I MEAN? Hellbound could do no wrong, but then suddenly it started doing everything wrong. I got a return of "utter disappointment" on my investment of "high expectations" which rivaled that one Christmas where I had totally convinced myself that my parents got me a huge TV- these were the days when having your own TV was still a big effing deal, and I knew for sure that the big box under the tree was a television just for me- but then it turned out to be...I don't even know what it was. I unwrapped it and found it was not a TV, but, like, a blanket. I was crushed for five minutes! Hellbound brought back those feelings, but my state of crushed-dom continues, even several five minuteses later.

I don't know what happened. How did things go so wrong, when they were going oh-so right? Well, maybe I do know what happened: Hellbound got a bit zany. Madcap, even, as our Chicago cops trotted the globe all the way to Israel to figure out the deal with Prosatanos's scepter pieces. There was this...this...piano music and one-car car chases and street urchins and too much Jackson and not enough demons. Granted, any Jackson was too much Jackson, but the minions of Satan were so nonexistent that I had to get my Clara Peller on and bust out a "Where's the demons?" once or twice. For reals, Hellbound could have been the best movie in the history of things that could have been, but lo, the middle hour was just. So. Bad.

And then the last ten minutes happened and suddenly Chuck Norris was slo-mo punching and kicking an emissary of Satan and I thought YES. Yes, this is what I wanted all along. It's all I wanted from Hellbound- well, Chuck Norris beating up demons and maybe an explosion.

Then I got an explosion, as Prosatanos- showing his true, rubber demon face!- exploded all over a tomb in a shower of sparks and smoke. The only way it could have been better was if Jackson had exploded as well. Or instead. Or if he was never there to begin with.

Ah well. Things are rarely as good as we dream them to be, and Hellbound is no exception. By which I mean Hellbound was great! You should totally watch it.

---------------------------------
Film Club Coolies, y'all!
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Mondo Bizarro
Cinema Gonzo
I Will Devour Your Content
Haiku Film Reviews
The Horror Digest
Horrorful
From Midnight, With Love
Aphorisms and Ectoplasm
nijomu
Scarina's Scary Vault of Scariness
From Beyond Depraved!

Aug 24, 2009

dream a little dream

Okay okay okay...you guys...I had the best dream last night. See, it was about Jack the Ripper, right? Well, in a way it was. Okay, so, the cops were chasing him across London Bridge...and I know that London Bridge isn't anywhere near Whitechapel, but it was a dream, so gimme a break! Anyway, the cops were chasing him and they shot him and he fell into the Thames...only on the way down, this, like, big rock from the bridge came loose and it, too, fell in the river. And yes, I know that Jack the Ripper was never shot, but again...dream. I mean, I've never met Madonna either, but this one time I had a dream that we sat next to each other on the bus, so clearly in Dreamworld anything goes.

Then, all of a sudden, I was in freakin' Arizona! And it was 1985! Dreams are so crazy, lol. Soooo, there was this, like, recreation of an English village or something, except it wasn't very English-y...you know how it is when, in your dreams, you know it's supposed to be something even though if you were awake you'd be like, "Okay, this is not at all like it's supposed to be!"? It was like that. What I mean is, the English village had a gift shop with severed wax heads which, as I said, isn't very village-y, but I remember seeing a sign so I guess it was a village- or at least the Arizonian concept of an English village. But I'm getting off track!

Okay, so London Bridge ended up in the Arizona fake English village. Like, they shipped it over stone by stone...which seems like a really stupid idea, I know. And you're all "Okay, now I know it was a dream!"...but dudes and dudettes, the whole bridge thing really happened. I remember reading about it on The Internet, which I guess is how it leaked into my dream. Weird, right? But it gets weirder!

So, remember that stone that fell into the Thames alongside Jack the Ripper? Yeah, well, the next thing you know, it was found, brought to Arizona, and put in place on the bridge. Next thing you know, someone's bleeding on it- I know, kooky!- and I remember, like, a puff of smoke or fog or some shit and POOF. Jack the Ripper was alive again, in Arizona! I know, it totally doesn't make sense, but there you go.

The best part about this dream, though, was that there were so many cool people there...like Clu Gulager and Rose Marie and Randolph Mantooth and Stepfanie Kramer of television's Hunter and Adrienne freakin' Barbeau! The last time I had a dream featuring all those people, it was like I was a contestant on some game show that was like a cross between Hollywood Squares and Press Your Luck. I was about to win BIG MONEY, but then I woke up. I hate that! Last night, though, my dream went on and on AND ON...and David Hasselhoff was there, and he was a cop who was all "troubled" because he shot a kid who'd robbed a store- Hoff thought the kid was carrying a gun, but it turned out he was actually holding a can opener. Ha ha, dreams be so crazy!

Anyway, the dream was exceedingly boring and stupid and not scary and most decidedly NOT a nightmare, but right before I woke up David Hasselhoff got into a fist fight with Jack the Ripper, so I guess that was cool. Plus, I was sleeping anyway- and what else is there to do while you're asleep then have stupid dreams?

Oh God...that was no dream...that was really happening!

Apr 29, 2009

1985 wasn't so bad

So today I was thinking about, you know, like, stuff and stuff, and I was all...hmm. Yeah. "Horror kinda nosedived as the 1980s went on and on." Then I thought about 1985 and I was all, "Well, that wasn't such a bad year." Then I thought about the fact that I used to wear nylon pants in the mid-80s, and how that was a terrible, terrible decision on my part...especially when one considers that I would generally couple said nylon pants with Chuck Taylors and Hawaiian shirts. What the fuck was I thinking?

Anyway, yeah, horror in '85. Some good movies, and a turn toward black comedy. Notable, perhaps. Perhaps not. I guess that's a decision you'll have to make for yourself, consequences be damned. Not unlike opting to pull up some nylon pants.

Return of the Living Dead

This film completely cordoned off a piece of my heart reserved forever and always for Linnea Quigley.


Re-Animator

Gordon + Lovecraft + Combs + Crampton are mid-80s Fab Four as far as I'm concerned.


Lifeforce

SAKES ALIVE. Why oh why can't I zip around the universe all nude-like, shooting lasers out of my eyes? It's all I want in the world!


Fright Night

Three things always spring to mind when I think of Fright Night: 1) Amanda Bearse's magically-lengthening vampire hair; 2) "Oh, you're so cool, Brewster!"; 3) Chris Sarandon's off-white cable-knit sweater.


The Stuff

I've never seen The Stuff. There, I said it.


Demons


This movie makes no sense and it's wicked gross. I fucking love it.


Day of the Dead

Oft-maligned, but I've always dug Day of the Dead. Maybe because it was the first Romero zombie pic I was allowed to see...saw it at the drive-in. Brain chaos ensued. "Yes, sir...fuck you, sir!"


The Company of Wolves

Saw this once upon a time- and when I say "a time", I mean "a horror movie sleepover pizza party time"...meaning, I thought it stunk. Undoubtedly, I need to revisit it.


So...1985. Whatchoo tink?