Film Club: Spider Baby

You know what people love? People love Jack Hill's Spider Baby. It's got a certain something something that appeals to the monster kid in all of us (yes, I'm speaking for all of us). It's not just a movie one admires, hates, or feels decidedly "meh" about; no, Spider Baby (1968) is a movie you want to hug. What can I say? I do so love a family of homicidal cuckoo nutsos.

The cuckoo nutsos are the Merrye clan, consisting of siblings Ralph (Sid Haig), Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn), and Virginia (Jill Banner). The Merrye "kids" suffer from a genetic disorder that causes mental deterioration over the course of a lifetime. They're adults but they act like children; well, children who are into rape and murder and stuff. Their exaggerated innocence belies their violent tendencies- they'll smile sweetly one moment and stab you viciously the next. Those Merryes, they're so unpredictable!

Their chauffeur and guardian Bruno (Lon Chaney, Jr.) is well aware of their condition, how it's eventually going to render the siblings feral. He keeps them tucked away from society, up in the Merrye mansion on the hill. It's not unlike the Bates residence in Psycho; it would be a nice enough home in most circumstances, but here- untended and isolated- it simply looms menacingly over everything below. It's the kind of place that haunts neighborhood kids, the kind that makes them dare one another to go knock on the door. Adults know to stay away.

Unfortunately, deliverymen must do their jobs. When one (Mantan Moreland) comes a-knockin' and "Uncle Bruno" isn't home, the Merryes are left to their own devious devices. Virginia plays her "spider game" (it involves a lot of poking with knives) and ends up with one of the delivery man's ears to keep and call her own.

Distant relatives Peter (Quinn Redeker) and Emily (Carol Ohmart) show up at the Merrye manse with a lawyer in tow, hoping to prove the children mentally unstable and seize the family residence and money. It would certainly not be a difficult task for Peter and Emily to prove their case, but unfortunately Bruno loses control of the children. Overnight, events quickly spiral out of control and the Merryes' visitors end up traumatized and/or dead. Realizing that their isolated life on the hill is no longer a possibility, Bruno does what anyone would do: he blows 'em all up, ending the Merrye Syndrome once and for all. But is it really over? Mua ha ha.

So just what is it about Spider Baby that everyone loves so much? Perhaps it's that Spider Baby is a film that's truly the sum of its parts. It works as a gothic nightmare movie- from the cobwebs in the basement to the dead daddy kept upstairs to the feral relatives living below the basement to the idiot man-child lurking in the dumb waiter, Spider Baby is downright creepy at times. There's no denying its obvious influence on films such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, House of 1000 Corpses, and even Hell Night. The loving family of killers who mind their own business until you intrude on their turf have become a horror movie staple (too much so, in fact: if I never see another modern "crazed cannibal family" movie again, I'll be happy), but in the late-60s they were still a frightening novelty.

Then there's the undercurrent of eroticism running through the film. As Emily, Carol Ohmart turns in a performance that screams "broad"- and believe me, I mean that in the best possible way. Maybe it's her hair, peroxided within an inch of its life, or maybe it's her random dance in black lingerie...whatever it is, Emily is all no-nonsense, worldly-wise sex appeal.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is young Virginia, the girl who emulates and consumes bugs, captivating her victims with both a sexuality that's more deliberate than she'd have you believe, and some good old-fashioned rope. Everybody who watches Spider Baby comes away from it in love with Virginia. Yes, I'm once again speaking for everybody.

Of course, you can't talk about this film without talking about the humor. Well, you can, but you'd be neglecting a large part of its charm. The opening credits, featuring a "Monster Mash"-style theme song sung by Chaney himself, clue us in that we're going to have fun with these kooky cannibals. And we do: they crack jokes and even bizarrely mug at the camera. It all works so well thanks to the performances. Everyone dives into his or her role with complete abandon and glee; the Merryes are hilariously over-the-top, while Chaney turns in a surprisingly heartfelt performance as their kindly, long-suffering caretaker. There's an Addams Family vibe to the entire affair, and in the end we're left to wonder who's more horrifying: the sadistic, murderous family on the hill, or their greedy, square, city-dwelling relatives.

This film lingered in limbo from 1964 (its production year) 'til it was finally released in 1968. By that time, black and white films were becoming a thing of the past, as if from an era that was quickly being left behind. Spider Baby withered on the vine (or web, or what have you), a flop during its initial run. As often happens, though, it was resurrected decades later and is now one of those "cult" movies the kids go on and on about these days. I'm going to speak for everybody one last time: Spider Baby is all sorts of awesome.
-------------
From Midnight, With Love
The Verdant Dude
Dark Romance
United Monkee
Less Than 3 Film
The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense
The Trunk that Dripped Blood
Hey! Look Behind You!
The Hallucenogenic Toreador
Acidemic Film
The Horror Section
emma blackwood
Kill Everybody in the Whole World
Eve Tushnet
Things That Don't Suck
In the Garden of the Death Orchid
Good Old Fashioned Nightmare Fuel
Pussy Goes Grrr
Catalogue of Curiosities

Day 27: "Nothing's going to hurt you now."

Wowee, what to luck to happen upon yet another film that begins with a gang rape! First it was Nail Gun Massacre, and now the 1973 Curtis Harrington film The Killing Kind; boy oh boy, I've practically got a theme week here. While Nail Gun Massacre veered off into sub-sub-sub-par slasher territory, however, The Killing Kind veers off into a Psycho-on-steroids kind of squidginess that's bound to leave you in need of a shower when all is said and done.

Terry (John Savage) was forced by his friends to partake in the gang rape of young Tina (Sue Bernard) under the boardwalk on that fateful day. It's questionable whether he could actually "perform", but regardless he ended up doing a 2-year term in the clink. Once he's out, he heads to the boarding house run by his mother Thelma (Ann Sothern) where he's treated to gallons of chocolate milk and sexually-tinged oppression.

Thelma's constant deriding of anyone else on the planet with a vagina (they're not good enough for Terry, they're all whores, blah blah blah) coupled with "affection" that's a bit too...affectionate for a mother and son have clearly rendered Terry with a muddled idea of sexuality.



He's plagued by visions of Tina under the boardwalk, and anytime he's confronted by a woman- whether a magazine photo staring back at him as he tries to masturbate or a repressed, older neighbor coming on to him, Terry flips out and loses control. Before too long, he takes revenge on those who put him behind bars, including his defense lawyer as well as Tina herself.

Terry's homicidal ways begin to worm their way into his home life once Lori (Cindy Williams) moves into mom's boarding house. Events escalate until there's a dead Shirley Feeney-to-be in the bathtub, and Thelma must finally face up to the fact that her beloved son is a certifiable cuckoo nutso.

The Killing Kind features the most inappropriate familial relationship I've had the "pleasure" of watching since I popped in Night Warning some time back. While the Terry - Thelma dynamic is going to send you running for your toothbrush the moment the credits start rolling, it's thanks to veterans Savage and Sothern that their relationship isn't just a sideshow. Each actor gives a performance hinting at the pain and loneliness that are part and parcel of what results in such antisocial behavior. It's almost impossible to like either one of them, but they're also hard to hate.

All in all, it's an expectedly solid effort from the underappreciated Curtis Harrington. The Killing Kind has the feel of an especially lurid TV movie- and that's certainly not a bad thing.

Day 7: "I call it 'the sucker'"

I've let it be known far and wide for a long, long time: I loves me some anthology movies. Just a couple of days ago, I introduced some friends to Creepshow- yes, horror movie fans who've never seen it. It's just. So. Good. I manage to appreciate it more and more as the years wear on, and I can't imagine there'll be a day when I don't love Creepshow. Even if "The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill" finally wears on my nerves (if any segment is ever going to, it's gonna be that one), I'll just have to watch 30 seconds of Adrienne Barbeau as Wilma Billie in "The Crate" to fall in love with the movie all over again. After all, she knows all the best stores.

Folks, can't I talk about Creepshow today instead of the movie I watched to fulfill my SHOCKTOBER obligation? Wouldn't you rather I go on about Creepshow rather than Creeptales? No? Well, damn you! Damn you all to hell I say! Siiiiigh...fine.

Yes, I said Creeptales. Surprisingly, it's also an anthology movie. It's available in the same multi-pack as Slash Dance and Knight Chills...and if you've read my reviews of those movies, then you can surmise that Creeptales pretty much stinks. But does it stink in a delightful fashion? That's the real question here.

The wraparound story is one of the most irritating I've ever witnessed: some doofus hunchback ghoul-types set about trying to find a copy of Creeptales, but unfortunately for them the video store is closed. Then they remember that their Uncle Munger was buried with a copy, so they dig it up, then invite all their doofus monster friends over to watch it.


I know- it doesn't sound so bad...a little corny-cute, even. But it dragged on for so long and was so full of irritating doofus chatter, I almost couldn't take it. My finger was even on the STOP button, but then at last the first segment began...in hindsight, I wish I'd pressed the button.

Story #1: Warped

Elizabeth goes to stay with her much-older cousin Viola and crippled Aunt after a lengthy hospital stay. Viola has a secret: after she was raped by Elizabeth's father (yes, her own brother) she gave birth to a still born baby, and later went a bit cuckoo nutso. She kills a nosy cop and Elizabeth, then cradles her skelebaby. See? Cuckoo nutso. The end.

It did, however, feature this line, which I'm going to use with regularity whenever anyone starts bitching at me: "You're making my gallbladder act up!"

Story #2: Snatcher

A purse snatcher steals the handbag of a "helpless old lady"...but it turns out that the purse is a monster, and it eats him. Brief and sort of cute, but mostly notable because the snatcher is played by Tom "SpongeBob" Kenny.

Story #3: The Closet

A little boy is afraid of the monster in his closet. His older brother tries to convince him that there's nothing in the closet, but the monster is real and it attacks the older brother...the end. It took me longer to type this than it took for the segment to play out.

Story #4: Groovie Ghoulie Garage

Two guys are on their way pick up the sister of one of them, when their car breaks down in Tower Springs. Everyone is a little weird, but nice enough- they invite the boys to a Halloween party, blah blah blah. Their car gets fixed and they split, but on the way out of town they pass a sign informing them that everyone in Tower Springs died due to a horrible chemical spill in 1969. Egahhhhhh!

Though this segment was fairly pointless, the garb of the two guys (as seen above) made me a bit nostalgic for my junior high days. You know, being "punk" but not at all punk, and wearing lots of buttons on a tweed trench coat. Also, when they got in their car, one of them said "Come on, let's rap some more!" and then they rapped...and I don't mean they talked. I mean they rapped.

Story #5: Howling Nightmare

A bunch of hunters are chasing what one assumes is a werewolf- finally, one of them shoots it with a silver bullet, killing it...but it was all a dream! A man wakes up from this nightmare, all sweaty, and he promptly begins turning into a werewolf. The hunters show up and kill him before the transformation is complete.

Huh?

Story #6: Sucker

"Sucker" began with this shot...

...and so I thought I was in for a a music video from the long-lost love child of Bonnie Tyler, Stevie Nicks, and Stockard Channing...but no, it was just a dream wherein a woman shoots her husband with a bow and arrow.

She's awakened by a ringing doorbell, and we see that the woman is not all flowy and ethereal like her dream-persona; actually, she's a big slob. The man at the door is a traveling salesman who gives her a magic dustbuster that she can use for one day to rid her life of all the filth, which she blames on her husband. The only caveat is that she can't point the vacuum at people, and she can't use it for more than 30 seconds at a time, lest there be eeeevil consequences. In the course of cleaning her entire house, however...well, I guess she uses it longer-than-30-second intervals or something, because all of a sudden she's gained 500 pounds. By the time her husband (who's not at all the jerk she's made him out to be, by the way) gets home, she looks like this:

Then she sucks herself into the magic dustbuster, the end.

"Sucker" was probably the strongest of the bunch- the best of the worst- and it felt like it probably could have been an episode of Tales from the Darkside when the show was hobbling along on its last leg. That should give you a clue about this whole affair; I realize I've skimped on the descriptions, but there wasn't much to describe in any of these. Creeptales is a low-budget anthology flick, and the stories are middle of the road at best. The framing narrative was excruciating, and when the film cut back to it between segments, I hit fast forward.

The late Forrest Ackerman was listed as a "Creative Consultant", but I have no idea what that means. As anthologies go, this isn't enjoyably bad like, say, House of the Dead, and it certainly can't hold a candle to Creepshow or the Amicus efforts.

There, now I've written about it, so leave me alone...you're making my gallbladder act up!

Alright, but can I go with someone else?

Oh. My. Crapping. Crap.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

A train which makes a stop.

In the woods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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




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

Film Club: The Car

"We've got a crazy on our hands."

Why yes, officer...yes you do. Honk...honkhonkhonnnnnnnnnnk! That sound can only mean one thing- it's...THE CAR! What does it want? Why does it kill? Will it ever stop? Who's driving it? Who's Johnny? You'd might as well relax right now, Asky McGee, because none of your questions will be answered. All you need to know is that AutoJaws hates you and will run your ass over faster than you can yell "Cat poo!"

Don't worry, I'll explain that in a minute.

This 1977 awesome-piece of cinema opens with an All American-looking couple (the female half of which is Melody Thomas, who you may know as Melody Thomas Scott of television's The Young & the Restless- dazzle your friends with trivia!) giggling as they ride the roads of New Mexico in their short shorts. What could go wrong on such a beautiful blue day? Plenty, that's what, for here comes...The Car!

Director Elliot Silverstein only shows us fleeting images of the car- mostly he keeps it hidden or utilizes evil red car vision cam as it hurtles through Looney Toons-style tunnels towards the unsuspecting bikers. He treats the car like it's a monster and sets up some Friday the 13th style tension, which is the last thing I'd expect in a movie about a killer car.

The car wastes no time taking down the bikers by knocking them off bridges and cliffs, then speeding away with a puff of exhaust in search of more victims- at this point, I believe I turned to my friends and solemnly stated, "This has the potential to be the best movie ever made." Then the next five minutes happened, and I was no longer sure what to think.

Wade Parent (James Brolin) and his girl toy Lauren (Kathleen Lloyd) flirt and wrestle and engage in weird accents and nut play and I suppose we're supposed to find it charming or something, but my thoughts only turned to "I can't fucking wait until Lauren gets run over." Wade heads off to his job at the police department, Lauren heads off to her job doing something that I hope will put her immediately in the path of an oncoming car, and we head off to an even weirder five minutes.

Some French Horn-clutching, Leo Sayer-looking dude is ostensibly hitchhiking when he breaks up a domestic violence situation. I applaud the French Horn-clutching, Leo Sayer-looking dude for helping out the abused wife, but then he has to go and be all annoying, almost more annoying than the wife beater. Once the French Horn-clutching, Leo Sayer-looking dude quips "Wouldn't that be fantastic? Farting music for a year!", I get the feeling that he spends a lot of time in the exclusive company of his French Horn...and I get pretty excited when I see the plume of dust down the road. The plume gets bigger- 'tis the car, natch, on a mission to run over the annoying French Horn-clutching, Leo Sayer-looking dude! This car is all right by me, even if I happen to agree with French Horn-clutching, Leo Sayer-looking dude's views on farting music.

The police force (which is fucking huge considering that the town only has one street) is baffled by all the dead bodies. Witnesses, including the wife beater and some old Indian broad, say all sorts of crazy things- the car has no license plate! The car has...honk honkhonkhonnnnnnnk...no driver! No matter, though- like all good animal attack movies (see: Jaws, The Swarm), the townsfolk in The Car refuse to cancel the...the...parade festival or whatever the hell it is just because some cuckoo nutso guy is on the loose mowing people down in his sedan.

Boy, will they rue that decision! At a parade festival rehearsal, a positively unearthly wind heralds the arrival of THE CAR, which tries to run over young and old alike.


The group takes refuge in a cemetery and stupid Lauren tries to act all tough. She starts taunting the car, calling it an "upside-down bathtub" and spouting other equally scathing put-downs. Again I think, "I can't fucking wait until Lauren gets run over", but the car can't seem to do anything but get mad and do donuts- the cemetery, you see, is hallowed ground, and the eeeeevil sedan cannot enter!

I'll tell you who can enter the graveyard, however- the most awesome lady I've seen in a movie since the Poole sisters, that's who! In a moment of pure cinematic glory, this woman shakes her fist at the car and yells...well, it sounds like "Cat poo!", although I've been told that in subtitles it's said she exclaims "Tadpole!" Neither makes much sense, and so I'm sticking with "cat poo". I love this woman- and when I get older, you can bet your ass that I'll be busting out some flip-top glasses and standing at bus stops, shaking my fists at people and calling them cat poo. Hitch your wagon to a star, I say!

The police continue to be baffled, although they're at least attempting to catch the car by setting up roadblocks and the such. James Brolin manages a face off, but soon discovers that bullets do no damage to the satanmobile. Windshields remain intact, tires remain inflated, and the car remains mysterious and evil. James Brolin approaches the driver's side, and the door suddenly opens and whacks him unconscious. Why the car doesn't run him over and finish the job, I have no idea. Another mystery of life, I suppose.



James Brolin wakes up in the hospital, and there he remains as Lauren heads home before spending the night taking care of his young daughters (played by Kyle and Kim Richards of Halloween and Escape to Witch Mountain respectively- how rad is that?). She stands in the kitchen whining to James Brolin- she can hear the engine of that damn car!- when finally- FINALLY- she gets taught a lesson about sassin' the devil's sedan. The car drives through the house to run that bitch over, and I believe I let out a cheer.

James Brolin, of course, does not cheer...and now, his battle with the car is personal. He comes home and finds the car in his garage, just sitting there. Eyaagh! The scene is absolutely reminiscent of vampire movies like 'Salem's Lot, when our intrepid heroes come across the eeeevil bloodsuckers slumbering in their coffins. Everything gets all tense, and we're just waiting for the bad guy to spring to life- and The Car doesn't disappoint...mostly.

Again, rather than simply running over James Brolin, the car just sits there, honking and revving its engine; apparently it either wants to kill him slowly via carbon monoxide poisoning, or it wants to annoy him to death with noise. Just as I was getting ready to shake my fist and yell "Cat poo!" "Enough with the fucking horn already!", the car busts out of the garage and speeds off.

The police have gotten their shit together and they've come up with a plan to lure the car into a canyon and explode it with explosives; after much car versus motorcycle chase action and men running with wires running action, their plan comes to fruition. There's a massive explosion and eeeevil devil faces appear in the fire as...I guess as the eeeevil devil spirits are released from the car!

One thing's for sure, though, the scene features overacting of a caliber I haven't seen since Silent Film Zombie! Awesome. Except, that is, for the dude on the upper left, who looks a bit bored with the devil fire clouds.

The Car ends rather ambiguously as we see tires barreling through city streets and hear the ominous honk...honkhonkhonnnnnk. Did the car survive? Does the devil have a massive fleet of evil sedans, a la Elvis and his Cadillacs? Isn't it funny when the devil has cars and dogs doing his bidding? It seems as if he's taking the really hard approach to world domination.

But no matter! The Car is awesome, surely the finest film of its kind. My only wish- and it makes me feel a bit funny to say it- is that there was more explicit carnage. I really wanted to see Lauren and Leo Sayer get run over but good.

Honk...honkhonkhonnnnnk!

Film Club Coolies, y'all!

The Blood Spattered Scribe
namtab
The Good, the Bad, and the Wonky
Awesomeness for Awesome's Sake
Gorillanaut
Dinner With Max Jenke
Evil on Two Legs
That Will Teach Them To Be Bad
The Horror Section
StinkyLulu
Film Experience
Acheter et entretenir sa tronconneuse (c'est French ca!)
Zombie Cupcake
(mim-uh-zeen)
Monstruos Calientes
Askewed Views
Overthinking It
House of 1000 Courses
Lazy Eye Theatre

diminishing returns

I try as best I can to shy away from posting useless news item after useless news item about films in production (or pre-production, as the case may be). Sometimes tidbits get me amped and I don't want to spoil anything for myself (see: Silent Hill), and sometimes there's simply an information overload as new, pointless minutiae is released daily on MySpace or something (see: Rob Zombie's Halloween). Either way, the less I know, the better- and speculation is just an exercise in frustration until you see the finished product.

Sometimes, though, you just say to yourself...COME ON.


Today, Bloody-Disgusting posted some (alleged) details about...sigh...The De2cent, the forthcoming sequel to Neil Marshall's caving-expedition-gone-awry flick you may have heard of before. I mean, it's not like I've ever mentioned it before. But anyway, back in the heady days of July the film was announced and I did a bit of ruminating on the plot possibilities:

Will another group of hapless cavers get trapped and eaten underground? Will a group of paramilitary commandos head into the caves to do battle with the crawlers? Will the crawlers emerge from the dark depths and wreak havoc above ground? Will they try to assimilate in a wacky fish-out-of-water style comedy? The possibilities are endless!

Rumor has it that the creators of The De2cent (man, I hate typing that) are taking the Aliens approach. Quoth the B-D:

Shauna Macdonald's character of Sarah returns as a rescue crew finds her and takes her back into the cave to find survivors - where terror ensues once again. We've also been tipped that in the sequel you'll get to see "little" cave monsters in action.

I just...I can't...I have to remember to breathe. Who knows what the film will be when all is said and done? Still...I have to say...I'm not terribly excited beyond the fact that Shauna Macdonald rocked the house in the first film and I'll be happy to see her on screen again. But...it kind of defies all logic, doesn't it? Even Ripley didn't want to go back into the fire- is Sarah, who's a tad bit completely cuckoo nutso at the end of The Descent, really going to return to the cave to look for survivors- especially considering that she knows that all her friends are dead and there are no survivors? Ah, well. Again, speculating like this is an exercise in frustration.

However, what little we know for sure doesn't bode well either, at least in my opinion. It was known from the get-go that Neil Marshall wouldn't be directing, but now it seems he won't be writing, either. And supposedly Lionsgate isn't interested in distributing the film, which kind of boggles the mind. Wasn't The Descent a success for them? Given some of the shit that Lionsgate does distribute, their turning it down is a big red flag. Yet again, speculating like this is an exercise in frustration, and we'll just have to wait and see. These tidbits, however, are leaving me decidedly unamped.

Film Club: Eyes of a Stranger

"Let's talk about you, Mr Phone Freak."

Do you ever glom onto a film for some reason- usually some unknown reason- to the point where you're all "I really, really, really have to see this movie. Nothing else matters until I have seen it! My desire to see this movie supercedes all of my other desires...I can concentrate on nothing else! Only after I've seen this film can I finally focus on other important matters, like curing cancer or perfecting my fudge recipe"? I totally do. And for some reason, I glommed onto Eyes of a Stranger (1981) a looong time ago- I don't know, I read about it somewhere or something and it became this movie I just had to see. No one had ever said that it was particularly good, or particularly scary, or even very notable for anything at all. Yet there I was, every so often on eBay or Amazon or whatevs, toying with the notion of buying a copy of the long out-of-print videotape. In the end, it was always way too pricy for me and Eyes of a Stranger continued to elude my grasp.

No, I don't get it, either.

Finally my desires to see this film have been whetted, thanks to the magic of DVD. And...? What of it? Was it worth the wait?

Fuck yeah! Are you kidding? No, it wasn't great...but then, yes, it was great. A tracksuited Lauren Tewes as that old slasher flick staple, the mouthy anchorwoman in peril? Jennifer Jason Leigh as a blind-deaf-mute? Head in a fishtank? 1981? Yes folks, Eyes of a Stranger has it all, including the best strip club routine EVAR.

Some creep is raping and killing women all around Miami, and it's up to intrepid and opinionated anchorwoman Jane Harris (Tewes) to stop him! Why is it up to an anchorwoman to stop a rapist/murderer, you ask? Because she says so, that's why. It seems that Jane has a real problem with weirdo rapists, after an incident in which her little sister Tracy (Leigh) was kidnapped and, one assumes, raped. The trauma rendered Tracy a blind-deaf-mute (it's all psychological, see), and Jane harbors huge amounts of guilt since she left Tracy alone that fateful day.

At any rate, Jane gets her Nancy Drew on and after discovering a bunch of circumstantial evidence, decides that Stanley Herbert (John DiSanti), the creepy weirdo who lives across the way, is Miami's serial rapist/killer.

Are Jane's deductions correct? Will she turn the tables on the cuckoo nutso? How many times can she break into Herbert's apartment before she's caught? Will she move in with her pushy boyfriend? Will Tracy ever see, hear, or speak again? The answers to all of these questions- and more!- can be found at the business end of a pistol wielded by an anchorwoman in a track suit.

Though Eyes of a Stranger leans more toward 'thriller' than it does 'slasher', it's not without its effective sequences. There are echoes of Black Christmas (1974) as the killer calls and harasses his intended victims; there are echoes of Friday the 13th in the musical score, and there are echoes of He Knows You're Alone when someone's head ends up in a fishtank (which is totally gonna throw off the pH levels in the water; killing humans is one thing, but killing goldfish is quite another, Mr Rapist Killer Weirdo!). The stalking sequences are lengthy and tense (particularly the one in which Herbert is alone in the apartment with Tracy), and the rare instances of gore are all the more shocking- thanks, of course, to Tom Savini.

In addition to the nods to other films (whether they're intentional or not, I have no clue), there are also a few Easter eggs for horror fans hidden throughout: Jane and her boyfriend David take in a showing of Dawn of the Dead, while in another sequence Shock Waves is playing on t.v.- Shock Waves, of course, is another film by Eyes director Ken Wiederhorn.

Wow, nerd alert.

I hope the next film on my "must see for whatever bizarre reason" list is as much fun as Eyes of a Stranger. But more importantly, what has happened to the anchorwoman in peril motif? If there's one thing the world needs now- now more than ever!, it's more sassy anchorwomen fighting weirdos. Let's start an online petition!

Give it up, y'all, for the Film Club Coolies!

Something Wicked...
7 Dollar Popcorn
Askewed Views
More Than Meets the Mogwai
Kindertrauma
Mermaid Heather
Exclamation Mark
Evil on Two Legs
Johnny LaRue's Crane Shot

Day 18- "Why is he so different?"

In 1972, director Bob Clark and writer Alan Ormsby teamed up to make a largely goofy (but still scared the bejesus out of little Final Girl) zombie flick with one of the best titles ever: Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things. No one could have guessed that two years later they'd join forces again to create a subtle, spooky film with a distinct and serious message: Deathdream (aka Dead of Night). Both men went on to have wildly varied careers; before his untimely death earlier this year, Clark directed such disparate films as the groundbreaking slasher film Black Christmas, another holiday-themed classic (A Christmas Story), and seminal teen sex comedy Porky's. Ormsby, meanwhile, has continued to write horror films (Popcorn, Cat People), but he's also taken a shot at the Porky's saga (Porky's II: The Next Day) as well as the cult classic coming of age film My Bodyguard.

After a brief but harrowing opening sequence in which we watch a soldier die due to gunshot wounds, the scene moves from the battlefield to the dinner table as the Brooks family receives the late-night telegram no soldier's family wants: the one informing them that their son, Andy, has died. Andy's father Charles (John Marley) and sister Cathy (Anya Ormsby) are grief-stricken, but Andy's mother Christine (Lynn Carlin) simply refuses to believe the terrible news. She sits up night after night, praying and whispering "You'll come home, Andy..."

And she's right- Andy does come home, appearing unannounced in the Brooks home in the middle of the night. The family is overjoyed and assumes that the telegram must have been a mistake. It soon becomes apparent, however, that Andy is very, very different than he was before he enlisted in the Army. He doesn't want anyone to know he's home; he doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep; he sits in a rocking chair all day long staring off into space...oh, and he seems to have developed a bit of a temper- so much so that he single-handedly strangles the family dog in front of a gaggle of neighborhood kids.

Though Christine is gentle with Andy and thinks he simply needs some time to readjust to civilian life, Charles's patience wears thin quickly; he served in World War II, after all, but you don't see him acting like a homicidal weirdo. Family relations are strained as Andy grows increasingly cuckoo nutso, and eventually we learn his terrible secret- I'm not going to give it all away here, but I will say that it's safe to assume that it's not good.

Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is horror film as metaphor. It's often said that the horror films with a "message"- Dawn of the Dead ('78), for example- are among the best. They're not just about slicing up horny teens, you see; rather, there's a little more substance to these films that make audiences feel all smart and decidedly not guilty about enjoying a horror film. Deathdream is no exception to that rule- it's an effectively creepy...well, zombie movie wrapped in an atmosphere of dread, but it's also an indictment of war, showing us how war changes everything- not just the lives of the soldiers, but also those of their loved ones as well. Veterans coming home are indeed different than they were before battle, and the readjustment to civilian life can be incredibly difficult, to put it mildly. Deathdream is every bit as heartbreaking as it is horrifying.

Trivia time! Dazzle your friends with knowledge!

Deathdream marks Tom Savini's first big-screen foray into the mysterious world of FX!

Shriekfest, yo.

Well, babies, here I am after 12 ass-numbing hours of indie horror and sci-fi cinema. There were the usual dizzying highs, depressing lows, and oh so creamy middles you'd expect from...err, 12 ass-numbing hours of indie horror and sci-fi cinema. Here's some lo-down on what I caught during yesterday's schedule- because, as you know by now, I care.

The French Call Them..."Les Shorts":

Iron Bird: I shouldn't even mention this one, as I came in somewhere towards the middle. Mayhaps it was interesting, I can't really say. What I can say, however, is that when the CGI ghost appeared at the end I thought "Hmm. I'd rather see a little girl in ghosty makeup than a CGI ghost." Yes, "ghosty".

Gay Zombie: Wow, zombies are still the new black! In the first zombie-flavoured short of the day, there's this zombie, right? And...wait for it...he's gay! Will the gaggle of homo stereotypes accept him despite his undead tendencies? That's pretty much it. My pals were more enamoured with this than I was; I thought the joke was played out in the first 2 minutes.

The Frolic: An effectively creepy story about a convicted child killer who plays mind games with the psychiatrist assigned to his care.

Final Run: This was...umm...I don't really know what to say. Honestly, I can't say it was good, but I was into it- but that's because I'm into sci-fi films made on a dollar ninety eight budget, you know? The plot was familiar yet confusing: a "hardened" mercenary goes on a final run (omigod, that's the name of the movie!) before retiring, but there are double crossings and things that don't make much sense and who cares, because it's a sci-fi flick made on a dollar ninety eight budget! Sit back, enjoy the computer effects that look straight outta 1996, the California desert doubling as a distant planet, and minature spaceships that go "pew pew pew!".

Perpetuum Mobile: I enjoyed this silent animated ode to Leonardo Da Vinci. What I remember most now, however, is that the credits were about 3 times longer than the film itself.

Zombie Love: Oh no...did I just say "zombie"? Can I get a holla? Yes, folks, pull up your pants and prepare yourself for the zombie musical. This was actually pretty funny and quite enjoyable, but you know...zombie musical. What is there to say, really?

Pig Tale: You know what? Fuck zombies. Ghosts anally raping rapists with beer bottles is totally the new black. The next time I see you, ask me to provide the sound effect that accompanies said rape-age. Fun for the whole family!

Wretched: You know what's awesome? Having friends who make good stuff. Great performances and disturbing subject matter = a film I don't have to lie about when offering my opinion to the filmmakers. Yay! Not that I lie, of course, but sometimes it's hard to think of a way to put a positive spin on a movie when you didn't like it, you know? My standard is usually "Wow, you...you did it!"

Death's Requiem: A fairly stylish film about a comic book artist who is...uh, sort of smoking himself to death. He realizes that he can see the grim reaper, who looks just like the grim reaper character in his comic books aaahhhhhh!

Drip: It begins with the words "based on actual events" appearing onscreen, but then it's simply a retelling of an extremely familiar urban legend. But, I must say, it's well-done and the tale is told in a way that makes it seem fresh. Now if someone would just make a short about that one where the woman brings home a cactus and the cactus starts moving and then it bursts open and then spiders spill out of the cactus and then the spiders lay eggs in her vagina, that would rule!

I missed two feature films when I went out with my pals to get some chow...I paid waaaaay too much money for one of the worst enchiladas I've ever had. I found this irritating. I still do, actually, though I'm just gonna let it go. I'm not going to let that enchilada ruin my life! Right here, right now, I'm taking back my life. In your face, overpriced cheese enchilada with no cheese! You know what? I'm even going to try to forget about the "free" soup that accompanied my overpriced enchilada, because I'm the bigger person here. When I said "Is this soup vegetarian?" because I'm a vegetarian, right? And the waiter was all like "Yeah, it's lentil" and I was all "Okay" and then I had a spoonful and yeah there were lentils, but the lentils were accompanied by chicken and I had to be all "Eww!" and I couldn't eat the soup. But...I'm letting it go. I am. Tomorrow, if you see me and you go "Stacie, how 'bout that soup and enchilada and paying like 26508973 dollars for them, huh?", I swear I will just be like "Peace be with you!" and I'll go on my way. I rise above...I rise above, my friends.

After The Enchilada Incident, I caught two features. The first, Netherbeast Incorporated, was...I don't know. It's vampires in an office. It was funny, but I wasn't rolling around peeing my pants and clutching my sides. Well, I was peeing my pants, but that was because I was wasted, not because I was laughing. Anyway, everyone else was rolling around, so whatevs. Maybe I'm a tough customer when it comes to comedy, who knows. Or I was too drunk to get it.

The last feature of the evening was The Cellar Door, an intense flick that puts a spin on the "Hooray, let's torture women!" trend. If you've read Final Girl for any length of time, you might know that I'd rather buy 50 overpriced enchiladas than sit through something like Captivity- not that I'm still hung up on the overpriced enchilada or anything, but you get my point. The Cellar Door is different in that it focuses on the characters and their interactions- the relationship between the captive and the captor- more than trying to derive "thrills" from showing women being brutalized. The serial killer, Herman, doesn't have an elaborate tunnel system underneath his house, and he hasn't devised a series of traps- each more sinister than the last!- with which to victimize his prey; rather, he's simply made a cage. Herman isn't an over-the-top cuckoo nutso; he's the guy next door. His house is located in an average suburban neighborhood, he shops at the dollar store, he drives an SUV, and he looks like the kind of guy you wouldn't normally give a second thought to...and that's what makes the cage in the basement so terrifying.

Two girls, Rudy and Crista, catch his eye one afternoon; Herman follows them around and kidnaps Rudy from her bed. Rudy wakes up in a cage in Herman's basement and has to figure out how to escape- that's pretty much it. As I said, The Cellar Door is about the characters, and Michelle Tomlinson (Rudy) and James DuMont (Herman) really drive the film with their performances. The range displayed by each is welcome in an indie production, particularly from Tomlinson, who spends virtually the entire movie locked in a box. Neither Tomlinson nor DuMont pulls out the over-the-top histrionics you might expect to see for these types of roles. Director Matt Zettell and DP Skye Borgman avoid the far-too prevalent music video/shaky cam/handheld/jump cut style of filmmaking, and I couldn't be more thankful.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to head back to Shriekfest for another day of overpriced enchiladas indie horror.

I'm over the enchilada thing, I swear.

Hello, Dolly! - Day 4

Before the FBI "don't steal" warning was finished rolling on my video of Pinocchio's Revenge (1996)- yes, I said video- I found myself deep in thought about how the word "revenge" automatically makes a movie something I want to see. Though I don't consider myself to be a particularly vengeful person, there's just something about that word, a je ne sais quoi, if you will, that piques my interest. Take, for example, The Facts of Life Goes to Paris. Now, you might not want to touch that film with ten foot...umm...eyeballs. But what if that title were instead The Facts of Life Goes to Paris: Natalie's Revenge? What if the sequel was dubbed The Facts of Life Goes to Paris 2: The Revenge of Edna Garrett? Tell me you wouldn't be all over that shit. You know you would! I'm telling you, it's irrefutable: revenge makes any movie more interesting. I don't even care if there's actually any...revengening taking place in the film- if the word is in the title, then the movie is awesome and that's that. Not interested in Jane Eyre? Who can blame you, what with all the "governess this" and "I heart Mr Rochester" that...but call it "The Revenge of Mad Bertha Mason" and it sounds exciting! You feel me?

By the time I snapped out of my reverie, I realized that I'd missed the first ten minutes or so of Pinocchio's Revenge and I had to rewind. What can I say? I am but a humble philosopher.

A long time ago (5 years) in a galaxy far, far away (Florida), a man is stopped by police as he buries a child and a mysterious package in the woods during a rainstorm. The movie promptly cuts to the present day and we learn that the man, "local wood sculptor and accused serial killer" Vincent Gotto (Lewis Van Bergen), is on death row: the body he was burying was that of his son, and the mysterious package contained a large Pinocchio puppet. His attorney, Jennifer Garrick (Rosalind Allen), is convinced he's not a serial killer and she fights to keep him alive...but it turns out that she's a single mother, so what does she know? Gotto, however, just wants to be put to death for killing his son. Eventually he gets his way and takes a trip to visit Ol' Sparky, and the Pinocchio doll ends up going home with Jennifer.

"Say what?"

Jennifer's young daughter Zoe (Brittany Alyse Smith) gets into a fight at school and pulls a Mike Tyson on the other girl: she chomps on her frickin' ear! Clearly, Jennifer is a failure as both an attorney and a mother- see, this is what happens when women divorce. Zoe is only grounded until her birthday, however, and then it's party time! When Zoe's real present fails to show up on time (Jesus, can't single mothers do anything right?), Jennifer gives her daughter the Pinocchio doll- but only temporarily, since, you know, it belonged to a serial killer and all that. Once the girl gets attached to her new toy, mom will take it away. Seems like a great plan!

And boy oh boy, do Zoe and Pinocchio get attached! Maybe I'm reading too much into things, or maybe writer/director Kevin Tenney meant for things to take a disturbing turn, who can say? But when Zoe lies in bed listening to her mother and her mother's boyfriend David (Todd Allen) have sex, then turns to Pinocchio and says "I wish you were a real boy so I wouldn't have to be alone", I think it's a little weird. There's also plenty of sequences wherein Zoe and Pinocchio lie together exactly as Jennifer and David do- and shall we talk about the scene where Pinocchio watches babysitter Sophia (Candace McKenzie) in the shower? According to Zoe, he just "wants to learn about women's bodies" after hearing Jennifer and David boinking. Clearly, Pinocchio's Revenge is going to be a different sort of killer doll movie.

Zoe brings the doll to school and he falls into the hands of the same girl Zoe fought with days earlier. The girl tosses Pinocchio over a fence and makes her getaway on her bike. The next thing you know, someone shoves a rake handle into her bike spokes, sending the girl flying over her handlebars; she lands and promptly gets run over by a school bus. But who was wielding that rake? Who, I ask you? oooEEEEEEooooooo!

According to Zoe, it was Pinocchio. According to Zoe's psychiatrist, it was Zoe, who is totally cuckoo nutso. I don't know what to believe any more! Sweet Mother of God, I'm coming apart!

"Me too!"

Oops, wrong movie. Anyway, Zoe scolds Pinocchio for being kind of a jerk and Pinocchio exploits Zoe's fear of abandonment, telling her that he just wants to be her real brother and they'd be together forever if only they could just get rid of her mom's boyfriend. Zoe's a little unsure, but the next thing you know, someone is pushing David down the stairs. David ends up in the hospital and Zoe scolds Pinocchio again. The doll counters with "Pfft- hey, maybe it was you. No one saw me do it!" and you know, he kind of has a point. In fact, Zoe's doctor feels the same way and wants the girl committed; he shows Jennifer a video of Zoe having a decidedly one-sided conversation with her puppet companion. The girl's mother balks, however, for she knows that Zoe is simply a misunderstood moppet with a heart of gold and ringlets of off-gold. It makes MUCH more sense that the puppet is killing people.

It's always something: Pinocchio promises Zoe that things would be so much better if she'd only cut his strings...and if they got rid of that pesky babysitter! Zoe complies and the puppet promptly takes off for the hospital where he finishes what he started with David by unplugging the dude's...medical thingamajig. Shortly after returning home, Sophia gets a fireplace poker upside the head repeatedly (Poker? I hardly knew her!) and it's bye bye babysitter. Still, however, we're not entirely sure if it's Zoe or her doll doing the dirty work...the dirty work of killing, that is.

It's another dark and stormy night, so eerily reminiscent of the dark and stormy night at the beginning of the film, when Jennifer comes home to find the babysitter's body and have a showdown with Pinocchio once and for all. Finally, we get some doll running around action! The puppet chases Jennifer, brandishing a butcher knife and I ask you: what's better than watching the drama of actor vs puppet unfold on screen? Nothing, that's what!

She gets stabbed a few times here and there, but eventually Jennifer prevails...however, Pinocchio's Revenge has an ending that will shock you! Shock you to your very core!

All right, maybe it's not that explosive...but it's a decent twist. This film is an interesting entry in the killer doll genre thanks to the relationship between Zoe and Pinocchio. It's established before the doll comes home that the girl is tapped, and the kill sequences leave the audience guessing as to who's...dare I say it...pulling the strings (feel free to groan). The idea of an "evil force" is explored briefly; Jennifer posits that maybe demons and evil can take any form- maybe Son of Sam wasn't "crazy", but rather maybe the neighbor's dog really was telling him to kill kill kill. Unfortunately, no one countered with "I see your point, Jennifer. However, that doesn't mean that Mr Berkowitz had to kill all those people. If the neighbor's dog told you to punch yourself in the face, take off all your clothes, and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you do it? Does doing what a dog tells you to do make you crazy?"

Undoubtedly Pinocchio's Revenge is more of a thriller than a horror film (it's really really not scary whatsoever), but hey- who says killer doll movies can't have a bit of substance and character development sometimes? I'm holding out for a sequel, hopefully titled Pinocchio's Revenge 2: The Revenge of Zoe. According to my science calculator, the double use of the word "revenge" means that such a film would have the potential to be the best movie evar!