I'm choosing to fill a small part of the gray area in my life with random reviews from the realms of cinema, music, and more things that are generally looked down upon by society. And you've chosen to read them apparently.
Wow. Just wow. I didn't realize that it has been a little over an entire month since I last updated this blog with a new film review. If my memory hasn't completely faded, then I recall saying that a post-Unseen Terror wrap-up was coming very soon. Searching through my drafts, I did see what was to be, but never came about. So, maybe I'll do something like that with any upcoming free time (it has been fairly hellacious at work).
*looks at the post title* Ah shit, there's a review to do right now though, isn't there?
Divorced dad Larry wants nothing but the best for his eight-year-old daughter Noel. Though he provides her with plenty of free time, fun, and social activities, he just can't compete with her rich, new stepdad Victor. Attempting to think of ways to please the young lady, he secretly peeks at her letter to Santa Claus. In it, he discovers that her utmost desire is this season's hottest toy: an electronic, voice-recording item called The Harrison Bear. When Victor also discovers this request, he sets out to beat the trailer-bound Southerner to the demanded plaything. Over the course of several nights, the two begin a race to Noel's heart, hoping that she will thank one of them for the best Christmas ever.
If it wasn't known to all of my friends who occasionally frequent this page, I reviewed one of WWE Studios' latest attempts at making themselves a more respectable commodity in the rather crowed movie industry. Around that time period, two more straight-to-video releases found their ways to the Redboxes and On-Demand channels of the world in the form of See No Evil 2 and Jingle All The Way 2. For reasons that I am honest-to-god not sure of, I've decided to sit down and watch both within this past week. A review for their horror-themed flick should be coming within the next few days, but for now, and before I head off to see Crowbar and Unearth play in Wilmington, North Carolina tonight, let's get this one out of the way.
There isn't a whole lot that I personally like about 1996's Jingle All The Way, though I can certainly understand as to why it has a fairly decent following among connoisseurs of bad cinema. Much like a good portion of sequels released far after their predecessors' times have passed, the news of a second installment being released in this new decade befuddled me. Sure, Arnold Schwarzenegger has fallen on hard times, and most of his recent projects have bombed critically and financially, but I doubted that he would sink to a level this low. That and he did have an unmistakable presence that kept you watching throughout its ninety two minutes of mediocrity.
To the surprise of abso-fucking-lutely nobody, standup comedian Larry The Cable Guy (whose protagonist is also named Larry) is not Arnold Schwarzenegger. Truth be told, he isn't even Michael Dudikoff. For most of Jingle All The Way 2's running time (it runs only one minute longer than the prior picture), he is playing an even stupider version of his on-stage persona, with traits and pratfalls borrowed from the late Jim Varney. Most of Larry's scenes consist of him getting physically abused by children, the elderly, or by some unseen deity who hates bad jokes and the overuse of the "womp womp"-style of humor. Also unlike Arnold's fourth attempt at a comedic role is his lack of a true rival. Sure, you might be looking at the cast list and see that actor Sinbad is nowhere to be found (when you can say that he of all people has more dignity than this, you know you're in trouble), but professional wrestler Santino Marella is. After all, his own personality on television is that of an exaggerated, goofy Italian stereotype, so maybe he can bring something worthwhile to this treatment of excrement. Well, you are gravely mistaken. He serves as a pseudo-sidekick, and save for a mere bit of foreshadowing in the first ten minutes, only pops in here and there to say something of absolutely no merit or importance. Worst of all is that he isn't even in character when he does enter the fray. The picture's central antagonist is Victor, played by occasional Michael Bay buddy Brian Stepanek. Until the thirty minute mark had passed, I didn't even suspect that he had any nefarious schemes or tricks whatsoever, as they spent a good portion of the first act making our "hero" out to look like an annoying redneck and making Victor look like a struggling, eager-to-please stepfather. Then again, expecting consistency in a film written by the man who brought us Without A Paddle: Nature's Calling and directed by the individual who shat out Chairman Of The Board seemed like something that was utterly, utterly hopeless.
As if this wasn't obvious, there is nothing redeeming about Jingle All The Way 2. The flick barely even appeals to followers of the "Redneck Comedy" group, as it is extremely watered down for family entertainment. It's also too painstakingly boring and derivative of better Christmas-themed films, so mom and pop might actually fall asleep if they insert it into their DVD or Blu-Ray player any time soon. Let's just forget that this even exists, alright? If you're thinking about spending any currency on it, give it to the nearest homeless person that you find. Chances are that he'll spend it on something more productive, buy a sandwich, a beer, or may even have bought the movie as a gift, only to be thrown out on the streets as a result of that decision.
On the plus side, it is infinitely better than Delta Farce.
Elizabeth Driscoll, an employee at the San Francisco health department, awakens one random day to find that her boyfriend is acting unusually cold and seemingly distant. Upon contacting Matthew Bennell, her colleague from work, they discover that even more individuals around the city have been seemingly sucked of all emotions. Though others are more believing of the fact that maybe it is just pure coincidence, the two are decidedly convinced that something is awry, and begin to investigate further. After a mutual friend comes across a blank-looking, rapidly-changing body in his bathhouse, the trio uncover the reason for these odd occurrences: alien organisms from a dying planet that are intent on replacing the entire human population.
So, we've finally come full circle. We've reached the end. With these upcoming paragraphs, I will be concluding this year's Unseen Terror, my yearly, though not only foray into horror movies that I have never seen. When I began piecing together this year's October blog-o-thon, I couldn't have imagined that I'd be opening and closing with essentially the same story, even if they are written and directed by two entirely different grown men. True, their release dates are separated by more than a few years, but Philip Kaufman's remake/re-imagining of the classic Invasion Of The Body Snatchers should not be thought of as just another hollywood revamp. In some ways, it equals or rivals the original film released twenty two years earlier, and certain aspects could arguably be superior to its previous adaptation.
For starters, the score is a lot more straight up horror-based, which I didn't think was possible given that Carmen Dragon did a phenomenal job himself before this version came out. Denny Zeitlin composes pieces that don't feel completely confined to their own decade. It doesn't sound like a soundtrack from the 1970s, but rather like something that could fit in at nearly any time or year. This is all the more surprising when you consider that it's done by a man whose primary media-related work outside of this was Sesame Street. The fear and underlying message of conformity still remains from the 1950s, as does some of the same plot elements and sequences (there's even a Kevin McCarthy cameo!), but it ultimately plays out more like a traditional suspense/horror flick than a science fiction shocker. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
The '78 version of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers is immediately more open with showing the viewer how these creatures have arrived on our planet, expanding on their reasoning and logic behind why they choose to do what they're currently doing. Never before have I been so creeped out by watching flowers bloom and plants grow. We're also given an explanation and answer for what exactly happens to the original bodies once the replicating process has wrapped up (something that the original never made completely clear to the audience), and it is fairly unsettling, if not a tad bit disgusting. I've never wanted to see a naked woman less in my entire life. Thanks folks. Another standout moment is the extraterrestrial beings emitting a very shrill, slightly animalistic cry when a human is discovered hidden in their group or walking in the streets, which bears a similarity to the cries of the Nazgul from The Lord Of The Rings trilogy.
Though I was fully and begrudgingly aware of this iteration's ending going in (do not partake in a google image search if you want to avoid spoilers), I feel that it is far more appropriately bleak than the original's, with a final act that simultaneously breaks your heart and somewhat restores hope. This prior knowledge proves to be an irrelevant factor in the overall entertainment of the motion picture, since the build up and main story is incredibly well done, with the tension becoming nail-bitingly fierce. Now that I think about it, and as blasphemous as it sounds, I may just recommend Philip Kaufman's version of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers over Don Siegel's 1956 picture of the same name. There's a great cast full of equally exceptional performances (it is so bizarre seeing Leonard Nemoy in something that isn't related to Star Trek), it tones down some of the blatantly old-school"heebie jeebies" vibe that could unfairly be classified as lame by today's youth, and is, to quote Marge Gunderson, pretty darn good.
Yeesh, did that dog with a human face look really, really stupid though. And it doesn't make the best amount of sense. Scratch that, it makes NO sense whatsoever. But shit, I watched a movie with a caterpillar-dog not that long ago, so perhaps I'll cut it some slack.
Tomorrow, I shall spend a good portion of my day NOT watching any horror films, and will be giving my senses a break. That being said, I will be happy to discuss my final thoughts on this year's iteration of this "blog-o-thon" that I thoroughly enjoy doing, and will even disclose information about pictures that didn't make the cut!
New home owners Jesse and Kate have arrived at the residence of his now-deceased parents, who were murdered when he was an infant. They settle in fine, and soon, their friends Charlie and Lana decide to pay a visit, primarily hoping that Kate will give the latter a chance to be signed to her record label. When digging around in the basement, the two men come across an old photograph of Jesse own great-great-grandfather, holding a crystal skull and posing in front of a Mayan temple. Curious as to the whereabouts of this artifact, they dig up the old man's casket and are attacked by his corpse, though "Gramps," as he will soon be known, settles down once he discovers Jesse's lineage. With this revival, however, comes an unearthing of strange forces who also wish to possess the skull, and the younger men will have to traverse many worlds connected to this house in order to protect it.
Despite watching and posting my thoughts on last year's House, which I came away from fairly satisfied and happy overall, I remember virtually nothing about it. I don't suspect that this was the movie's fault, but more or less my own since I'll be the first to admit that I don't have the strongest memory sometimes when it comes to movies that don't blow me away upon first time viewings. What I do recall is that it spawned three sequels in six years, and that the franchise is generally regarded as the type that gets significantly worse with the more installments that are released (here's looking at you Jaws and Hellraiser). But heck, House II: The Second Story actually has direct involvement with most of the crew who worked on the first film, including writer Ethan Wiley (who is also sitting in the director's chair for this one), initial story creator Fred Dekker (of The Monster Squad and Night Of The Creeps fame), and producer Sean S. Cunningham (Friday The 13th). How bad could it truly be?
Well, perhaps to House II's credit, it isn't as terrible as I imagined that it would be. Wiley's sequel may currently be sitting at a frighteningly bad 0% on RottenTomatoes.com, but I don't think that the rating is completely fair or justified. After all, this penned project should not be viewed as a horror-comedy, but rather as the complete opposite: a comedy with the occasional element of horror peeking in from around the corner. I didn't expect to make a comparison to infamously-ridiculous followups to beloved horror entries such asSam Raimi's third entry in the Evil Dead trilogy, Army Of Darkness (House II coming out the same year as Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn could not have been a coincidence), but it isn't unwarranted. There is very little that will scare audiences of any age, and save for one moment of a head being blow off by multiple shotgun shells (which is still done without a single drop of blood being spilled), I wouldn't be entirely upset if parents today showed this to their own children. The supporting characters, be they once-human or never-human, are way too delightful to be frightening. That does work against House II at times, since the comedy is occasionally pretty dreadful or just too sitcom-like for someone such as me.
On the subject of sitcoms, I'm starting to wonder if there is going to be several recurring themes in these flicks should I choose to watch numbers three and four in the near future. Once again, we have a performer from Cheers in a supporting role (George Wendt in the prior installment, John Ratzenberger this time around). The poster is a severed hand ringing a doorbell. The antagonist is an older enemy with a closer connection to the hero than we originally realized. Don't get me wrong, I see these type of things all of the time in various motion pictures (see Transformers 1-4. Actually, don't see those, stick with the Gamera movies from the 60s and 70s. Maybe), but you have to wonder if Dekker might have just been running low on time, especially since this was released only fifteen months after the first film was. The climax also feels incredibly rushed, as if the crew forgot that they were strapped for time, and thusly had to write a more serious finale that takes a radical 180 degree turn.
As long as you're willing to kick back, take off your shoes, grab a big bag of popcorn, and enter into the picture with a mentality of "just go with it," you could have a decently fun time with this inferior, though still slightly amusing sequel. There's some wacky comedy, some nice stop-motion homages to long-time greats and pioneers such as Ray Harryhausen, and a baby pterodactyl brought to life by veteran voice actor Frank Welker, who has too many notable characters on his resume that I care to name now.
And tell me that you don't want a pug-a-pillar. He's the cutest creation that I've seen since the Dorats in Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah. Just look at him. LOOK AT HIM I SAY.
A collector of rare books, Dean Corso is puzzled by a request to meet with literature connoisseur Boris Balkan. Though primarily motivated by greed, Dean is attracted by the older gentleman's task that is given to him. Within a short period of time, Balkan has attained a copy of the infamous title "The Nine Gates Of The Kingdom Of The Shadows," a book that was rumored to have been co-written by Lucifer himself, and even has a rumored incantation that will summon the dark lord to this plane. He assigns Corso with the command to track down two other prints of this work stored around other parts of the world, intending to prove that his copy is authentic. Should it not be, he must acquire the one that is. Such a desire shall not come without mystic occurrences or consequences though.
Well, hello Mr. Roman Polanski, it sure is nice to see you again after I was essentially blown away by my first time viewing of Rosemary's Baby last year. Why I haven't chosen to take a gander at another entry in your "apartment" trilogy is beyond me, but as it stands, I'll try sitting through a screening of your 1999 project, the occasionally derided, yet equally praised The Ninth Gate. Sure, you still may be a scumbag for what you did in the past that caused you to flee the United States, but I've watched films by Victor Salva and listened to records from radically insane black metal bands, so why wouldn't I give you another chance in the department of cinema, especially after I adored your most well-known piece?...Okay, I'm nowhere near clever enough for a review to be done in that smarmy style, so I'll just stick with what I know and what I do best.
But what do I know after watching The Ninth Gate? Well, it's kind of hard to say what one comes away with after watching a motion picture as odd and somewhat messy as this one. As a screenwriter and director, Roman Polanski has always been able to use the "slow burn" effect to his advantage, keeping his fans and critics intrigued while building up to what ultimately ends up being a pretty damn powerful conclusion. This flick proves to be no exception to his trademark, but even through some of its moments of creepiness, it is quite lethargic by his standards. It's actually a little misleading to call this a pure horror film too, as the journey and investigation for the books plays out more like an old-time mystery, complete with some "whodunnit" parts and enigmatic, unidentified characters popping up here and there. Wojciech Kilar's (Bram Stoker's Dracula) wonderfully eerie score helps build upon this assumption too, but hey, as long as I'm not bored, then I don't particularly care what you choose to call or classify your picture as.
In the acting department, Johnny Depp is doing what pre-Pirates Of The Caribbean Johnny Depp does. He is somewhat restrained for most of the time that he's in front of the camera, but when you consider that the character of Corso is so damn intent on just getting his job done and going home again, you can't really act surprised by this choice to play it safe. On the opposite side of things, Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon) and Lena Olin (Alias, Mystery Men) seem to be having a lot more fun trying to make their portrayals of Boris and Liana that much more interesting, especially in the case of the latter. Olin starts to dive into campy territory, but despite this and a decision to have a buffer-looking version of rapper Sisqo as her bodyguard, it's saved by her resurgence and fairly dark true intentions towards the end. And if we're talking about people reentering the movie, if you remove the main gist of the plot, the here-and-there appearances of French actress Emmanuelle Seigner (the current wife of Polanski himself) prove to be the most fascinating thing about the entire ordeal. Simply referred to as "The Girl," she's fairly captivating to look at, and even by the end, I wasn't quite certain as to who, what, or why she was involved with Depp's protagonist. In terms of further compliments, there's also one potential misogynistic spoiler far down below as well. I'd list it in this paragraph, but I'm too much of a gentleman to do so.
When I was writing my notes down for this review, I was initially confused as to why so many critics at the time compared it to Rosemary's Baby and his earlier works. Outside of the involvement with Satan and some general occult shenanigans, I saw very little that it shared with its "predecessor." If anything, it plays out not unlike an episode of Master of Horror that genre legend John Carpenter would direct eight years later, the disturbing "Cigarette Burns." Then, the conclusion came. This was the absolute defining moment for The Ninth Gate, since it barely makes a lick of sense, and seeps into the disappointing, truly scary realms of the bizarre and the somewhat clunky. I had to look up several interpretations of the ending and still couldn't quite piece it together. And yet, this one is still worth a watch, though I don't imagine that most frequently-impatient viewers will be able to stomach a large portion of it. Most hardcore Johnny Depp fans will probably get a kick out of seeing him in his first horror-based role since A Nightmare On Elm Street, and it's enough to make up for some of the dreck he's been attached to recently.
There is no bit of silliness to add this time. Because tomorrow, we're going to be done with this shebang. And tomorrow's final entry will come full circle…
Oh boy, did Emmanuelle Seigner look good naked. And I do mean REALLY GOOD.
Young Marylee is mauled by a neighbor's dog, only to be saved by her large, gentle, and simple-minded friend Bubba. While she is taken to the hospital, a local courier named Otis rounds up a group of men, assuming that Bubba has harmed this little girl and potentially killed her. During their manhunt, the handicapped innocent runs to his mother's, and she disguises him as a scarecrow in her cornfield in order to evade punishment for something that he did not commit. Tragically, it fails to work, as Otis and his cohorts shoot him repeatedly. Shortly thereafter, Bubba's name is cleared, but the murderers get off in court, claiming self-defense. It isn't long, however, when the scarecrow that Bubba had been killed in starts to reappear around town.
Much like my experience with the original version of The Town That Dreaded Sundown, I was completely incorrect about my previous assumptions when it came to this 1981 made-for-TV horror flick. If one were to take a glance at the cover of its home video releases (since there is no theatrical poster that I know of), you would think that the film would be a supernatural-based slasher with a scarecrow at the center of all of the bloodshed. Much to my (pleasant) surprise, I was only partially correct. Dark Night Of The Scarecrow does indeed have elements of the aforementioned description, but it is a lot more well-rounded and doesn't need to rely on the cliches or mass carnage that befell most horror movies released in the 1980s.
Okay, so most of those cliches wouldn't have made the cut anyway, since this had its premiere on CBS Television. To my knowledge, there were plans to make this into an independent feature film, but for various reasons, it seems as if its low budget and semi-old school feel was deemed appropriate enough for home viewers instead. There was also the plan to cast veteran actor Strother Martin (last seen on this countdown in Sssssss) as main antagonist Otis Hazelrig, but he passed away before the production was getting ready to start. This proves to be anything but a problem since fellow experienced actor Charles Durning (The Sting, Dog Day Afternoon) turns in a delightfully sketchy and slimy performance as the postal worker who helps murder a childlike grownup. Oh goodness did I get chuckle when he tells young Marylee that "you can trust the mailman." No matter which decade in which something like this is uttered, you can't help but laugh. Truth be told, save for a few random moments from some of the supporting cast, nobody is really doing a bad job acting-wise. They don't treat Dark Night Of The Scarecrow as a standard throwaway picture, but rather as a creepy, if not simplistic tale of revenge.
Speaking of the very basic, but effective elements discussed above, writer J.D. Feigelson creates a script that utilizes minimalism and the tactic of confusion when it comes to the kills (save for Bubba's death). There are very few shots of the monstrosity that stalks these men, and sometimes, we don't even see its own shadow when it does its dirty deeds. I'll bite and say that as entertaining as its performers are, specifically Durning and Lane Smith (The Mighty Ducks), they aren't the most complex or original creations you'll see. Maybe it was just me, but Scarecrow also does seem to boast an unintentional anti-southerner vibe, at least judging by the absolute cruelty and apathy of some of the townsfolk when it comes to the manhunt for Bubba and its slightly-infuriating aftermath. But again, that might have been something that I assumed I had seen, and nobody else did.
I have to wonder what could have been had Dark Night Of The Scarecrow been given a theatrical release or bigger budget. Don't get me wrong, there isn't a single thing that I would change about the final product, but perhaps a longer, slightly bloodier remake couldn't hurt? Either way, if you want to take a look at how to do an exceptional job in the horror field with little-to-no money at your disposal, and see where other underrated gems like Pumpkinhead got its inspiration from, then look no further. And if none of that convinces you, then be aware that a brief part of the picture takes place on Halloween night, upping the entertainment factor!
But oy, it sure is difficult to watch anything with grown men playing mentally challenged individuals after THIS was released six years ago.
Tomorrow, it's back to the past, with a sequel to a surprisingly good entry from last year, House 2!
Yep, we have another twofer here folks. I won't waste time on an explanation this time around, since you're here just to read on about the movies after all.
When two miners from a small village vanish, Shigeru Kawamura, the head of security, goes to investigate. One of the bodies is discovered, having died from severe and unusual lacerations. The culprit is revealed to be a giant insect larva, and soon thereafter, the second body is found inside of the mine, having perished via the same means. While attempting to rid themselves of this harmful pest, an earthquake hits the area, trapping Shigeru inside. Later on, he is found wandering the area, though the man has suffered amnesic trauma. Through unexpected means, his memory is jarred, and he reveals that a greater, ancient threat, also dwelling inside of these caverns, is about to be unleashed.
1956's Sora No Daikaiju Radon, also known by its more fun-sounding and more memorable names of Rodan and Rodan! The Flying Monster!, is my first "cheat" film that I've discussed on my yearly marathon. By my own definition, it means that I have previously watched this little monster flick in the past. So why did I choose to include it this year? Well, for starters, I have not seen Rodan in almost twenty years, so my memory was quite poor of everything that didn't revolve around the titular beast. The other reason had to do with having never seen the film in its original Japanese language and cut.
Then I remembered one critical thing: how can I make a comparison between both versions when I have virtually no recollection about the original cut? Eh, screw it. Rodan is one of Toho's more well-known kaiju pictures, featuring one of Godzilla's more recognizable allies and occasional foe, though I've come to find out that a large portion of fans that I've talked to over the years have never sat down and actually watched the flying monster's starring vehicle and debuting picture. This is a real shame, since you have more than just a fun creature feature flick, and is serves as a surprisingly good followup (in terms of destruction, anti-nuclear message, and tone) to the original Gojira. It's also the first Kaiju-based motion picture produced by Toho Studios to be filmed and released in color, and it went on to gross a significant amount of money in North America.
Since I know that most of you don't care a lot about the cast of human beings in pictures such as these, I'll just get my analysis of the main characters out of the way right now. Toho veterans Akihiko Hirata (Dr. Serizawa in Gojira) and Kenji Sahara (of Terror of Mechagodzilla and The Mysterians fame) are competent and fairly likable, though not as memorable as I had hoped that they would be. Mind you, it isn't necessarily their fault, but outside of the latter having some good reactions (or lack thereof) during his scenes post-cavern exit, they just doesn't connect with you in the way that you would expect either of the men to do. But now that they're done for, let's talk about these pteranodon antagonists. Rodan itself has never been the most complex-looking creation, but this is undeniably the best he/she has ever looked. The facial features look menacing, with the addition of visible teeth and a broader, jagged-looking beak really helping to bring this to life. Coupled with this, Rodan's own wingspan isn't too absurdly long either, and hell, even the costume's skin tone doesn't look distorted or too off-puttingly ugly. It's one of Toho's more expressive creations of the "Showa" era, ranking up there with the designs of fan favorites such as Anguirus, Mothra, and peculiar oddball Gigan. I wish that I could say the same for the giant insects (aka the Meganulon) though. I was going to try and be nice about this, but simply put, they just look terrible. The color schemes are fine, but the expression on their faces is so damn goofy, and the puppeteering and body movement just don't convince you that these could be a threat whatsoever. They also come across as a poor man's version of the giant ants from Them!, even going so far as to constantly screech when they are encountered by the public. At least the main perpetrators were portrayed by veteran suit actor Haruo Nakajima, and if that man could make Gojira's legendary creation look impressive, as well as bring life to the prominent namesake of Rodan, then why not let him work on these bugs too? Wait a minute….I just checked online and saw that the Meganulon WERE in fact played by Nakajima-san. Well, I guess someone just wanted to get that work out of the way while they had the chance to.
To go along with a memorable horror that terrorizes both the skies and the ground below, Rodan boasts some nice set pieces and fairly good effects work. I've never quite understood why people such as Eiji Tsuburaya and his crew are lambasted by snobbier movie fans these days. The man knew how to do a hell of a lot with what he had, and despite a lot of this material looking dated in the day and age of CGI, they can put together some great action sequences and create some iconic images (the shot of a post-Rodan Fukuoka engulfed in flames is tremendous). There's also the rather fantastic score of Mr. Akira Ifukube, a brilliantly underrated composer who could always make these type of films feel more epic than they probably deserved to be. His ending theme, the obviously-titled "Finale," is a somber, moving piece that I think deserves to be heard by most fans of foreign cinema.
Despite some little technicalities and complaints that I may have, including Toho's own decision to reuse the flying monstrosity's roar for future creations such as Varan and Battra (not a real knock on this flick though), Rodan has every right in the world to be considered a classic by not just fans of the Toho universe, but by fans of science fiction in general. It boasts a lot of the best work from the "Four Horsemen" of classic Japanese movies, contains a powerfully tragic ending, and just makes for a great time all around.
And before you ask the question, I can assure you that I will not be reviewing Valley Of The Dragons, wherein Rodan makes a "cameo" via stolen stock footage. You know that doesn't count as a real motion picture anyway.
While retrieving treasure off the coast of Ireland, a sea captain and his crew are interrupted by an erupting volcano. At first, the boat is almost sank by the incoming waves, but once it has subsided, and the men return to shore, they notice that an abundance of marine life has been killed, and they fear that something has awoken from the blast. Their assumption proves to be correct, as a leviathan rises up from the sea to attack, but is instead repelled and eventually captured. Taking the creature back to London, and having dubbed it "Gorgo," they sell it to a circus for the public's amusement. During this imprisonment, local scientists discover an odd little fact: Gorgo is still an infant, and his guardian may be searching for him.
Unlike most of the giant monster pictures being released around the time of Godzilla and its ilk/sequels, 1961's Gorgo was filmed and set in the United Kingdom, making it one of the few exceptions from this period to not have a backing from high-profile studios such as Toho and Daiei. Thankfully not feeling deterred or intimidated, this British picture was distributed stateside by the far more well-known MGM, and boasts a surprising list of somewhat-notable names who would go on to work for more prestigious theatrical projects, including Dr. Zhivago (cinematographer Freddie Young), 2001: A Space Odyssey (costar William Sylvester), and Orson Welles' Othello and Chimes At Midnight (composer Angelo Francesco Lavagnino).
Not mentioned above, mostly due to him already having years' worth of experience in the creature feature department, is director Eugene Lourie. Previously the man heading productions such as The Giant Behemoth and the now-legendary feature-length flick The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (which along with King Kong, was the inspiration behind the creation of Godzilla), he does a mostly good job of commanding his leads and helps to keep them from getting too bored by the occasional silliness that surrounds them. Keep in mind, I did say "mostly," since there are quite a few instances of every performer, be they adult or child, resorting to the old-time acting from back in the 1940s and 1950s that I've repeatedly stated to not being a fan of.
Speaking of entertainers, and I do hate to speak ill of the dead, Mick Dillon's performance as the titular beast is one of the reasons as to why I champion the art of suit acting. IN JAPAN. Over the years, I've come to discover that this is such a lost art to those who aren't involved with Eastern cinema, and while its more-advanced cousin can be utilized to great effect no matter which country is involved, there just doesn't seem to be much life coming from Gorgo other than typical "Rarrrr, I'm angry." Take for example the admittedly-stupid Son Of Godzilla. The monsters in that aren't just destructive and angered, they have a wide array of emotions told just through simple body language. Like its Japanese counterparts, Gorgo does possess the same usage of miniature sets and special effects that were pioneered by Eiji Tsuburaya, and some of them, dare I say, look rather good. The mother's rampage throughout London has some very good backdrops and shots (except for a brief moment where she smashes Big Ben), which almost made up for the sheer amount of green screen that I had to suffer through for the first twenty or thirty minutes.
In terms of a plot, and the message of not assuming that humanity could be the greater and more horrific of monsters, it does bear a striking resemblance to Toho's own production Mothra, even though both pictures were released in the same year (and only a few months apart from one another). The choice to make the monster a "freak show" attraction to the general public is also borrowed from King Kong's infamous final act. There's also that distinct feeling of dread and panic from the city once the beast attacks, trying to evoke the same feelings from Gojira. Hell, save for the amphibian ears and more demonic-looking eyes, the Gorgos even LOOK like Godzilla. So, despite all of that nitpicking, would I recommend Gorgo to anybody outside of the obvious diehard kaiju fanatics? At this time, I'd probably say that it's leaning slightly towards a yes, but with an extreme amount of caution.
At the very least, should you not want to suffer through it alone, maybe these three guys below can help you out.
Tomorrow, we're turning on the TV for a trip to the cornfields with Dark Night Of The Scarecrow!
Yes, I am doing reviews for both days in one post. Why? Because I was more occupied with assorted things than I expected to be. Actually, I believe that is another way of saying that friends were in town and I was also called in to work when I didn't expect to be. Oh well. I actually think that it's fitting considering that both pictures I'm reviewing today have to deal with the upcoming holidays that we simultaneously gleefully await and dread immensely.
On one Christmas Eve, eager and enthusiastic children Harry and Philip Stadling are awaiting the arrival of Santa Claus. Hearing strange noises, Harry peeks out into the living room, only to see his mother being groped and seduced by a man dressed as jolly old St. Nick. Thirty three years later, the now-older Harry works a rather monotonous job for a toy factory, often finding himself to be easily taken advantage of by coworkers. After an office party, Harry comes to the realization that nobody takes this holiday seriously anymore and there are more bad people out there in the world than there needs to be. With that, he dons a Santa suit, setting out to reward the nice and punish the naughty.
The very small sub-genre in horror that consists of movies based around the holidays of Christmas and/or Christmas Eve is, to put it lightly, incredibly miniscule. There are the ones that most people know about, such as Black Christmas (both the original and the remake), Silent Night, Deadly Night, and Santa's Slay. Okay, maybe I'm the only human being in this town who is an unabashed fan of that last one, but 1980's Christmas Evil, known originally as You Better Watch Out, has quite a following in this odd community that relishes the chance to watch something this absurd. Not quite a slasher film, but often grouped in with them, it makes for one hell of an interesting, if not obviously dumb viewing experience.
Christmas Evil's main protagonist/antagonist is one Brandon Maggart, who is best known for a very early stint on Sesame Street and for helping give birth to Ms. Fiona Apple. Though he certainly isn't delivering an Academy Award-worthy performance with his portrayal of the disgruntled and marginally psychotic Harry, he does manage to make the man into somewhat of a sympathetic, and slightly fun individual. I mean yes, we all know that there are a lot of scumbags and dishonest human beings out there in this occasionally ugly world that we live in, but they highlight it in such a manner than you wonder if this is going to turn into Death Wish or Taxi Driver, albeit with a red and white costume and beard instead of stylish apparel. Unfortunately, I can't recall much of anything about the rest of the cast, including Jeff DeMunn's (The Walking Dead) character of the younger brother who may be catching on to his sibling's recent exploits and actions. Fans of the actor are not likely going to recognize him, and they also may be disappointed that the bloodshed advertised on assorted posters and covers doesn't begin until about the fifty two minute mark. Don't get me wrong, I liked that they were willing to let the audience familiarize themselves with Harry, and not choose to make him just another generic killer, but the first murder does seem to be a tad bit out of place, and somewhat badly thought out.
Director John Waters (Pink Flamingos, Hairspray) has been quoted as saying that Christmas Evil is "the greatest Christmas movie ever made," and has apparently gone so far as to provide a commentary track for the Synapse Films' release of the picture on DVD. While I don't know if I would go that far, especially since I would love to watch more holiday-horror pictures in the future (perhaps that could be a theme for December), it does make for a fairly trashy, hokey, and fun time, with an added bonus of the most film absurd picture ending that I've seen to date on this marathon. You can currently watch this little gem on sites such as Youtube for the low cost of zero dollars and zero cents. Or, if you are a more patient person, you can wait for the upcoming Blu-Ray/DVD combo pack that is set for home video release on November 18, 2014.
On the roads of Snowmonton, demented serial killer Jack Frost is on his way in a prison transport which will deservedly drive him to his area of execution. Seemingly out of nowhere, and mostly thanks to horrible weather, the truck containing the mad man hits a tanker, and Jack is freed. Before he can act, however, the genetic material contained in the opposing vehicle breaks free, drenching him in the liquid and dissolving him into nothingness. Unfortunately, Frost does not die, but rather merges with the surrounding snow, changing him into something more frightening than anyone could have ever imagined.
If you're a child of the 1980s and 1990s like I am, there was a very strong possibility that you came across many VHS tapes that featured lenticular covers. With only the slightest bit of movement, something rather nice, gentle, and/or unassuming would change into something more menacing or unpleasant, and would usually entice curious folks such as myself into checking them out. 1997's horror-comedy Jack Frost (obviously of no relation to the picture of the same name released a year later) was one of the more notoriously wacky titles equipped with this advertising method, which started with a gentle-looking snowman turning into what you see above. The main problem is that we never see that creature atop this paragraph, but something far, far worse.
Instead, what we get is a reasonably basic low-budget slasher picture with an awful-looking snowman costume that is dumping all of its cheese into one giant pit, and then makes the risky decision to dive in headfirst. But this cheese is more like the brand that you buy because it's been discounted, and said discount was due to bad feedback. But hey, I personally don't really know why I was expecting quality per se. A large majority of the cast, including a pre-American Pie Shannon Elizabeth, are in "eh, fuck it" mode, but you can't say that you blame them when you consider how dreadful of script that this has as its base. Speaking of Elizabeth, she should be thrilled that the role of Nadia came to her two years after this had wrapped and been released on home video, since I'm sure that she didn't want the highlight on her acting reel to read "I have been assaulted and raped in a bathtub by a cigar-smoking snow sculpture." Speaking of the titular killer, Scott MacDonald's enactment of Jack Nicholson having a Ritalin and Tequila-fed child with Brad Dourif did provide for some occasionally funny lines. Sadly, for every joke that is mildly amusing, there are about ten that just make you groan or grimace. It's like following most comedians that were made famous through Twitter.
There are some positives to Jack Frost though. For one, the murder sequences are somewhat creative, including using the flat end of an axe to kill a grown man rather than the sharpened, metal head. Plus the site of a snowman driving a car into someone is worth at least a quick glance. For nostalgic reasons, I also enjoyed the 90s home video look and wash that it was filmed with. Everything has a slight grain, and the lighting looks like something that would have (and very well may have been) aired on cable channels like Cinemax late at night. There is also some decent practical effects work and makeup to be seen, especially when Jack's human form initially melts after the accident mutates him. But damn, that snowman costume looks really, really lackluster. I'm willing to bet that even a company such as Charles Band's Full Moon Features could have done a better job at making this look acceptable. Of course, they would also most likely abused it like their Puppet Master and Gingerdead Man franchises, and I'd prefer to not see a crossover in the future with either of those series.
So, that's about all that I can say about something like Jack Frost. It isn't very good, and I don't think that you could find much to enjoy unless you are severely inebriated and surrounded by cretins, particularly since it starts to run out of gas past the sixty minute mark (which is coincidentally after Elizabeth's final scene comes to a close). But hell, what do you expect from a movie about a killer snowman?
It is an infinitely better movie than its sequel though. After all, they kill him with bananas in that one.
…….Bananas…….
Tomorrow, I travel back to my childhood again with a 1950s Toho Production: Sora No Daikaiju Radon!
In New York City, a recent string of disappearances and murders, primarily comprised of derelicts, has many befuddled. While a police captain shows a personal interest in these incidents, and even goes so far as to recruit and seek information from the head of a local homeless shelter, a down and out photographer spends his time shooting the populace who reside underneath the bright lights and attractions. Though all of these men come from different sides of the spectrum, they all come to find out that the vanishings are connected with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Even worse, the NRC has hidden the existence of these true culprits: Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers. But to most, they will soon be known simply as C.H.U.D.
I am the furthest thing from a psychic, yet I know what some of my friends and/or acquaintances are thinking at this very moment. And before they ask "Why the hell haven't you seen this one until 2014," I'd like to say that you can chalk this one up to poor memory and poor timing. I had purchased the Anchor Bay DVD release of C.H.U.D. on a whim at least five years ago, but for some inexplicable reason, was never able to watch more than a good thirty or so minutes before something else would distract me. Giving into my own laziness, I decided that there was no better time than now, and finally popped this into the Blu-Ray player.
*ninety six minutes later*
….I don't even know how to possibly review a picture such as C.H.U.D, since it seems to rebel against all things involved with the process of making good motion pictures, but is also simultaneously so fervent and fierce about its content and story.
C.H.U.D. was initially released by the now-defunct New World Pictures, who you could always count on for delivering something worth remembering, be it good (The Brood, Piranha), great (Hellraiser, Heathers), or really, really silly (Death Race 2000, Flowers In The Attic). It also features a rather young-looking Daniel Stern (City Slickers) and John Heard (of Cat People and stalking-actress-Melissa-Leo-fame), with very early appearances from John Goodman and Jay Thomas as two chauvinistic police officers. They're all very fun to watch, and most of the cast in general are playing these roles with real conviction and honest-to-god earnestness, even if the latter two are basically only there for very bit parts and something to add to their acting resume. Stern himself is playing a lesser version of Richard Dreyfuss' character from Jaws, though his credentials are obviously nowhere near as legitimate. But….it's still a movie about ugly, mutated monsters that live in the sewer and eat people.
Speaking of those creatures, save for some very quick cuts, you don't see a great deal of them until when the seventy minute mark has hit. And yes, they look fairly dumb, with comparisons to The Toxic Avenger having sexual intercourse with the Henrietta deadite from Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn not being too inaccurate. There is also a shocking lack of bloodshed (at least compared to what I've seen so far this year) and foul language for a flick like C.H.U.D., and had this been released in this day and age, there's the very slight possibility that it could have been given a PG-13 rating if they had made the call to cut out at least one or two shots of some severed heads. Don't get me wrong, I've said in the past that rating systems don't usually affect my overall enjoyment of any movie, but for such an absurd, yet fun concept, I was hoping for a tad bit more gruesomeness. It isn't completely bloodless though, and there is some nice practical effects and makeup on some of the poor souls killed by the beasts.
Hmm, maybe I did just review C.H.U.D. after all. It's about as dumb as someone would expect it to be, and the whole "rewritten script" controversy seems like a bit of bollocks (Stern and costar Chris Curry altered writer Parnell Hall's final draft, and chose to remain nameless about the whole thing). However, the whole film is just so wacky and bizarre (if not a bit slow) with how they chose to record and release it, and it does sport a pretty great third act that helps wrap things up in a typically-ludicrous manner while also saying to the audience "screw it, let's just say that nobody is safe now." It might be mostly crud, but C.H.U.D. is the….no, I am not closing with a pun that awful. Sorry. I still have some semblance of dignity.
You know, now that I think about it, something tells me that this could have very well been a prequel to Home Alone. The three performers billed near the top of its cast have all taken part in the series in some way shape or form, and the background for Daniel Stern's character isn't as thoroughly detailed as it could have been. Does this mean smartass Kevin McCallister and underground fuck-ugly, flesh-eating creatures exist in the same universe? Maybe C.H.U.D. II: Bud The C.H.U.D. will tell me those answers one day.
Tomorrow, I notice that we're about two months away from everyone's favorite and/or least favorite holiday, so I get in the spirit of Christmas Evil!
Following the conclusion of the Mexican-American War of the mid-1800s, Second Lieutenant John Boyd has been promoted for an act of bravery which included capturing an enemy's headquarters. However, his superiors soon discover that this was slightly fabricated, as Boyd had faked his death in order to avoid being killed. Exiled to the remote area of Fort Spencer for his act of cowardice, he soon befriends the other occupants. During an ordinary day, a stranger arrives at the stronghold, telling a story of resorting to consume his companions out of desperation, and after the men decide to search for survivors from his entourage, they uncover a secret much worse than they could have ever expected.
Well I'll be damned. I am quite amazed that it has taken me twenty two days to include my first "cannibal" title for my yearly marathon. And what do I choose? An Italian production made back in the 70s or 80s? Or some random title from the last decade or so? Nope. I decided to go with a recently-rereleased title from the folks at Shout! Factory, the late 90s piece known as Ravenous. It seems like I'm subliminally trying to stay away from the decade in which I was born (but that will change later).
I recall seeing the trailers for Ravenous back when the film was being released theatrically, but obviously, I couldn't get in to see it unless my parents were willing to renege on certain rules (I've had to discover most gory or truly disturbing films on my own). Had they known that you could potentially classify this as a black comedy, they may have eased off. Yep, you didn't read that wrong. Writer Ted Griffin, who would go on to help pen the scripts for Matchstick Men and Ocean's 11, blends a rather sick sense of humor with a fairly horrific series of events. In an even more bizarre decision, the film's score is constructed and performed by English musicians Michael Nyman, who has way too many works to his names that I care to list, and Damon Albarn, who is most well known for fronting acts like Blur and Gorillaz. Their compositions alternate between the incredibly tense and the incredibly wacky, resembling something out of a video game soundtrack (Final Fantasy VII came to mind). I don't think it worked as well as they have hoped it would have, but it was undeniably something that stood out, for better or for worse.
For a movie about something so morbid, Ravenous does have some real moments of beauty. Filmed primarily in Slovakia, the scenery and cinematography are quite a sight to behold, almost making you forget that Robert Carlyle's character is butchering human beings for his own consumption. Oh, don't complain about that. If you couldn't piece that together from the above synopsis, then you need to watch more horror movies. But yes, the flick is relatively sick for those with an easy stomach and doesn't skip out on some nice carnage, most of which is provided by the Trainspotting actor mentioned above. While other stars like Memento's Guy Pearce and Beetlejuice's Jeffrey Jones (*cue awkward, uncomfortable groan*) give some solid performances, Carlyle easily steals the show, reveling in the role he's been cast and proving that he is one of Europe's most underrated players when it comes to playing anyone who can be classified as psychotic or unstable. I can also officially say that I forgive Mr. Neal McDonough for his portrayal of M. Bison in Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li, since he does a fairly good job with the limited amount of screen time he gets here. That and he makes for a great Barry Allen and Dum Dum Dugan. I'll say no such thing for David Arquette though, who doesn't serve much of a purpose outside of just being there and acting somewhat stupid. Alright, that isn't too much of a stretch for him. Still, he was the WCW Heavyweight Champion at one point in his career, and that is just unforgivable.
Ravenous is far from perfect, but I can see why it has a fairly decent following, and why there has been some demand for a proper home video release (it should be out on DVD and Blu-Ray as of this writing). It is certainly a unique way to look at one of the more detestable acts that one can commit against his or her fellow man, with an unexpected mystical element that doesn't seem completely out-of-nowhere, at least if you pay attention to a side character's dialogue towards the beginning or know the legend of the "Wendigo." It also skips out on going for the obvious route of wrapping things up with some rather nonsensical, though interesting twists, and I'd ultimately recommend it as a fairly humorous and bloody experience that's worth at least one watch.
Gosh, it sure would have been nice to hear THIS song at least once though.
Tomorrow, I dip back into the 1980s with the underground classic C.H.U.D!
The Winners are a struggling rock and roll band on the verge of breaking up. Vocalist Joey is convinced that should their next tour flop, it will spell the end and lead to a life of boredom and complacency. After a gig, their bassist Jennifer runs off with a mysterious stranger, promising to return in the morning for their trip to the next city of their itinerary. While she does indeed live up to her promise, she comes back looking a little paler and hungrier than before, and the band slowly discovers that their bass player has become one of the undead. Much to their surprise, this proves to be anything but a detriment, instead leading to previously-unseen interest in their uncluttered tunes.
Back in February and/or March, I had plans to do a small mini-marathon entitled "The Blockbuster Bunch," which would have focused on a myriad of titles that my cheap self picked up from the now-defunct video rental chain. The bad news is that thanks to laziness, this never fully materialized (though it may later if time is on my side this holiday season). The good news is that quite a few of these flicks have made their way onto this year's list, including The Midnight Meat Train, Dead Sushi, and Overtime. Today, I'm taking a chance on another one of these random picks, writer/director Rob Stefaniuk's rock and roll vampire-comedy Suck.
And boy am I glad that I did. For the past few days, I had been suffering through some real dreck, proving to my friends that I may in fact be a masochist (that or just willing to watch what nobody else will). When a movie as fun as Suck comes along, it's the type of experience that makes you forget the pains of those previous entries. For starters, everyone just looks like they're having a good time filming and starring in this picture, and thankfully don't forsake keeping the audience entertained as well. Suck's cast is surprisingly large too considering that it wasn't filmed with the highest of budgets (travel montages are made of claymation sequences). From the realm of music, we get Henry Rollins as a loudmouthed DJ, Alex Lifeson of Rush as a Canadian border guard, Alice Cooper as a bartender, and Burning Brides/Off! guitarist Dimitri Coats (looking like a combination of Jack White and Johnny Depp's portrayal of the Mad Hatter) as the vampiric musician who turns Jennifer into a bloodsucker. There are quite a few more to look out for, but for the sake of this review, I won't say who shows up and where. Malcolm McDowell also turns up as a vampire hunter with a connection to Coats' character (and spouts possibly the best line in the movie). In a cool little trick, they use and edit footage from 1973's O Lucky Man! for flashback sequences, wherein McDowell himself was a young man in his 30s.
Not letting the cameos make up most of the praise, the band and their crew (particularly their VERY French-Canadian roadie Hugo) provide some entertaining and purposely comedic moments as well. As I've done once before so far during this year's countdown, I'll have to let my primal male instincts out for once: Jessica Pare's Jennifer, bassist for the band and frontman Joey's ex-girlfriend, is stupidly, undeniably attractive, and probably the best-looking female vampire that I've seen in at least a decade. Don't let the looks fool you though, since Suck reminds you that while vampires may be "cool" in this day and age thanks to mainstream successes like Twilight and similar ilk, they are still horrifying monsters with an appetite for death and murder. As of the time of this writing, I'm not certain as to whether the band themselves were playing their own tunes, but I sure hope that was the case. In this universe, the Winners might be viewed as a band whose tunes as less-than-spectacular and impassioned, but damn are some of them catchy. The aforementioned Burning Brides also contribute two songs to the picture, including the pretty great and gloomy "Flesh and Bone," whose video you can view down below.
All of that fellating aside, and as much as I thought that the build to the inevitable was very pleasing, it does make for a somewhat rushed climax. Suck also boasts quite a few moments of over-the-top content, and while that kind of goes hand in hand with rock and roll, it may turn some people off. Me though? I've sat through men getting their penises ripped off by cheap-looking bigfoot costumes in this year's iteration, and I've also had to watch a Leprechaun movie without a real god damn leprechaun, so I didn't have a problem whatsoever.
So, you see kids? There IS such a thing as a great blind buy in this day and age. Suck might sport one of the simpler, and debatably stupider titles in recent memory (which could be one of the reasons as to why most pass it over in favor of other films), but it's definitely worth your time considering that it mostly flew under the radar with only a select few hearing about its very limited theatrical release. If you can find this for a decently cheap price, or at the very least, on an accessible streaming site that isn't outrageously expensive, give it a watch one afternoon or evening with some likeminded friends and fans of horror-comedies based around the devil's music, for which I know there aren't a lot to choose from.
Besides, getting to see Henry Rollins with hair again is worth the price alone.
Tomorrow, I stay hungry (hardy har har) and dig into Ravenous!
Previously an ugly duckling and a cliched good girl, high schooler Mandy Lane has suddenly matured and blossomed in shockingly quick fashion. Over the course of the summer, she is invited to join a group of fellow students for a getaway trip to a secluded and isolated ranch. Secretly, the men on the trip all begin to compete for the affections of the attractive young woman, thinking of different ways to get her attention and get into her pants. But while the festivities continue at the isolated terrain, a mysterious stalker begins to take out her classmates.
At this point in 2014, most horror fans are familiar with the long-troubled release of Jonathan Levine's modern day slasher, the peculiarly-titled All The Boys Love Mandy Lane. But for those of you reading this who aren't acquainted, here's the cliff notes version of its wacky history: long before he directed pictures such as The Wackness and 50/50, Levine had worked on a low budget horror flick that was completed in 2006. Outside of select screenings at the occasional festival or convention (and a very limited release for U.K. audiences in 2008), it was never screened or released Stateside for modern horror audiences for an agonizing time of seven years, mostly due to its distributor going bankrupt after purchasing it from the oh-so-powerful Weinstein Company. Just when fans thought it would be condemned to obscurity, and would likely never see the light of day until another new video format came out, it was released as a video-on-demand title during the fall of 2013, with a DVD and Blu-Ray release coming shortly thereafter.
And yet, despite all of those accolades, something just didn't click that well in All The Boys LoveMandy Lane. I'm not quite sure as to whether the last ten minutes of its running time were what did me in and made me shift gears on the final verdict, but it felt all-too-familar at the end of the day. The film's script by Jacob Forman suggests a smarter and more satirical movie than what we end up seeing on screen, and some of the moments in its first half gives off way too much of a late 90s vibe for someone like myself. Oh, and there's the slight hint of a certain "South Park" episode, which made me wonder if this was supposed to be a black comedy more than a horror film.
I wish that All The Boys Love Mandy Lane would have received a proper release closer to its time of completion, since I get the feeling that it will get lost in the shuffle of equally-clever horror motion pictures that were seen by wide audiences, such as The Cabin In The Woods or Tucker And Dale Vs. Evil. But as it stands, you catch this one on Netflix Instant Streaming and decide for yourself as to whether you think that it should have stayed on the shelf or should have been given the fair treatment that it deserves.
You know it's a dated picture when you see teenagers using flip-phones though.
Tomorrow (well, today), I go for something for musical with Suck!
Backpacking through the Irish countryside, two young couples begin to mingle with the local townsfolk. Much to their surprise, they are given the offer to take up residence in a nice cabin near the edge of the terrain's woods. Naturally, they agree to do so. To their horror, however, they come upon a dark, terrible secret: the cabin, along with the surrounding environment, serve as a killing field for a creature of Irish folklore. That monster is a leprechaun, and the four youths discover that the residents of Ireland have been luring innocents to the territory, so that it may satiate this monstrosity's lust in an attempt to make up for past mistakes.
Forgive me for typing a relatively short review, but it's late, and my mind and vision have been rotted from sitting through two particularly bad films within the past two days. No, Only Lovers Left Alive was not one of those aforementioned pictures. That was a good picture. That distinct dishonor and shameful title goes to this hunk of crap.
When I first heard that there was going to be another entry in the Leprechaun franchise, I shuttered a little bit. Then, I heard that it was going to be a reboot, sans star antagonist Warwick Davis. That shutter turned into a groan. After THAT revelation, I discovered that it was being produced by the oh-so-reliable WWE Studios and it would star Dylan "Hornswoggle" Postl, one of my bottom ten least favorite performers currently employed in the world of professional wrestling, as the titular horror villain. Groan turned into face palming, and well, you get the idea.
It only takes you four minutes to realize that something is horribly, horribly wrong with Leprechaun: Origins. For starters, the entire flick is devoid of any and all humor that was found in the original. Yes, I agree that the previous entries' brand of jokes and gags were quite embarrassing at times, but at the very least, you tend to remember scenes such as the man who played Willow killing someone with a pogo stick or when rapper/actor Ice-T smokes marijuana with an evil rascal out to kill him. Origins is played like a straight forward horror film, down to the devilish imp looking like a bloodthirsty creature with an occasional affinity for gold, screeching and growling along the way….wait, what? Unfortunately, if you're expecting to see Hornswoggle attempt to imitate or mime sequences that we've already become accustomed with (but why would you?), then you're in for a rather large disappointment. Instead, we see occasional glimpses of the wrestler dressed in a costume that looks like if one of the blind, underground beings from The Descent had a mutated child with an orc from The Lord Of The Rings. Add to that the fact that nearly every characteristic about this new beast is a knockoff of something we've seen before. He has "alternative" vision similar to that of the alien bounty hunter from Predator (even going so far as to rip out a young man's spine) and stalks his prey in the long grass like the velociraptors from The Lost World: Jurassic Park. To an extent, it even gives off a strong Pumpkinhead vibe, but it is nowhere near as menacing or memorable as that unappreciated creation of the sorely missed Stan Winston.
You had one job Leprechaun: Origins. You had one, simple job that even an inexperienced person like myself could do. Not only did you fail at completing it, but you accomplished said failure in ways that even a pessimist like myself didn't think was possible. Hell, you even managed to screw up THIS hilariously bad line from your 1993 forefather. I could have spent my cherished money on something more productive, such as food from Taco Bell's dollar menu. True, it will lead to my inevitable diabetes diagnosis, but at least it will taste better going down.
I don't even want me gold returned, I want me god damn time back you cunt of a movie.
Tomorrow, we'll attempt to salvage something good from this year's marathon again with the long-delayed All The Boys Love Mandy Lane!
Ack, another post that's a day late. Well, as I did with the last time that this problem occurred, I will be reviewing Day 18's movie(s) followed by Day 19's a few hours later. So then, let's forget about that awkward introduction and move on, shall we?
Rose Hathaway is a half-human, half-vampire attending St. Vladimir's Academy, a boarding school hidden in Montana from the human world. She also serves as a guardian to Lissa Dragomir, a member of the Moroi, peaceful, royal vampires that are one day destined for greater things. Though the two have previously escaped from the institute due to threats from fellow students, they are forced to return after a year away. Not long after this, Lissa begins to receive additional, and more graphic warnings from mysterious forces, and they suspect that the Strigoi, the evil vampires heard about in folklore throughout the ages, are behind it.
I think I have to accept the fact that in this day and age, the mythos and intrigue of the vampire is all but dead. While we can still be exposed to a cool feature here and there such as Jim Mickle's Stake Land, or a pretty darn good series of graphic novels along the lines of Kouta Hirano's Hellsing and Scott Snyder's American Vampire, there just isn't much to offer anymore than we haven't seen done to death a million and one times over. Today's two features are both experimental takes on the bloodsucking beasts. One is obviously aimed at a crowd that I'm not too keen on socializing with, and the other is….also aimed at a crowd that I'm not too keen on socializing with. Hmm. This could be troublesome.
Thankfully, we can get the truly wretched pick of the litter out of the way first. Vampire Academy is based on a series of young adult novels written by ex-social studies teacher Richelle Mead. I also question as to whether it actually has its feet firmly planted in the horror genre, or if it was just written to appeal to the Twilight franchise, especially since those books and movies have wrapped and there is damn near no more milk left to squeeze out of its udder. But after sitting through its one hundred minute running time, and noticing that there may not have even been a real plot until the forty five minute mark, I'm not really sure who this was supposed to appeal to, primarily because the movie is just all over the place in terms of properties that it is "borrowing" from (there are literally too many to name in my own review), thus establishing that it has no identity of its own.
Before you start with the whole "ugh, that looked so lame/gay/stupid" nonsense that was no doubt running through your head after the first teaser trailer hit theaters and the internet back in 2013 (it was unanimously laughed at by the crowd that I was surrounded with when it played before Thor: The Dark World), I can assure you this: your suspicions are only partially incorrect. Sure, Vampire Academy is drenched in idiocy, with a convoluted plot that even heavy exposition can't save, horrible CGI, a depressed-looking Gabriel Byrne, and will likely appeal to basically nobody but fans of the source material. Above all else though, the four words after the upcoming colon are the main ones that you should keep in mind should you choose to view it: it is ungodly DULL. For the first time in this marathon, I ejected a movie from our Blu-Ray player, and it wasn't even due to a defective or scratched disc. Convincing myself to finish this entire flick was much harder than it should have been, since I was just absolutely bored by everything going on around me, and driving me to apathy is one of my own biggest sins for any motion picture. And no, there isn't any gore, nudity, or bloodshed to keep you interested either. It's the equivalent of ABC Family or MTV making a teenage vampire story, down to one character cutting themselves off when uttering the word "motherfucker."
Calling Vampire Academy lifeless is too subtle. It desperately wants to spice things up for its audience by being Juno meets Mean Girls (the fact that the latter's director was also in charge of this is just heartbreaking), but it is done so blatantly that it borders on the offensive. Even lead actress Zooey Deutch comes across like the dollar store equivalent of the former movie's titular character, mimicking her mannerisms, vocal patterns, and even looking like the damn woman. I have no desire to ever recommend this to any of my friends, or even the few enemies that I have. You could do better, more stimulating things to pass the time, such as eating potato chips, doing your taxes, or folding your laundry.
However, if your only desire is to see Modern Family's Sarah Hyland lick a wall, then by all means, go ahead and waste your money.
Two undead lovers, alive for several centuries, live on opposite sides of the world. The male, an influential musician living in isolation, is often depressed, only leaving his grounds in Detroit so that he may retrieve "the good stuff," a nickname for non-contaminated plasma, from a connection at a local blood bank. The female, living in Tangier, Morocco, gets by herself with the help of famous dramatist Christopher Marlowe, who was thought to have perished in 1593. On one random day, the longtime lovers decide to reconnect and reunite, though the sudden reemergence of the female's sister could complicate matters more than they expect.
Crap, another mistake on my part. Not only did I not realize that Only Lovers Left Alive isn't a horror film, but that it was directed by Jim Jarmusch of all people. Don't worry, that is the furthest thing from an insult, since I think that the man is a tremendously talented filmmaker, and I'd recommend Coffee & Cigarettes and the exceptional, underrated gem Ghost Dog: Way Of The Samurai to any fan of cinema. Still, he has never written or helmed a single film in this genre, and despite the primary focus of this being centered around a pair of vampiric darlings, it is far closer to a drama, sprinkled with bits of nihilistic, black comedy and romance.
The duo mentioned above are Tom Hiddleston (Thor, Midnight In Paris) and Tilda Swinton (The Chronicles of Narnia, Michael Clayton, Burn After Reading), appropriately going by the names of Adam and Eve. The former has developed a rather jaded outlook on life, detesting most of humanity and lamenting its current state, choosing to remain secluded in his apartment and surrounding himself with rare instruments from throughout the many, many decades that he has lived. The latter is more upbeat, embracing the fact that she has been given near-immortality and choosing to enjoy the better portions and attractions of the world. Swinton and Hiddleston have remarkable chemistry together, and both bring a dry, sometimes deadpan sense of humor to the characters that helps them feel, ironically, still human and grounded. Some of their interactions and quotes seem ripe for the world of gif-heavy internet sites such as Tumblr. There are also some good supporting roles, such as the one provided by Anton Yelchin of Star Trek and Fright Night fame. Yes, the new-school Charlie Brewster has to act with vampires again. Poor guy. As much as I like Mia Wasikowska (Stoker, Alice in Wonderland), who shows up in the latter half of the picture as Eve's younger sister Ava, the only point she really serves is to be a plot device instead of a well-rounded individual, and doesn't add too much outside of a few chuckles, spunkiness, and an excuse to spice things up when you suspect that nothing is going to happen outside of the two leads' synergy. Not a complaint, but more of an observational afterthought, especially since I was personally fine with it focusing on Adam and Eve alone.
Only Lovers Left Alive isn't going to be for everyone, but at the very least, you can always count on Jarmusch for knowing how to write and direct something that you can't say that you've seen before. Even if you zone out and choose not to focus on the film too much (it is admittedly somewhat sparse in the plot department, but that isn't a detriment), it features outstanding performances from its two leads, some great cinematography, and a fresh look into the possibility of eternal life, and what it should truly mean to those who aren't alone to experience it. Maybe there is still something left to do with these parasitic monsters after all.
Be careful if you're a music connoisseur or geek though. There are some vintage guitars that get destroyed towards the end, and that is truly, tragically horrific.
Come back in a few hours for today's proper review, though I shant spoil as to what it is. This is mostly due to how embarrassed I'll likely be for having seen it.
Struggling and often-frustrated artist Reno Miller feels his sanity slowly slipping away. He can't pay his bills on time and he can't finish his works before they are due. Even worse is the fact that he is constantly given the cold shoulder by his two female roommates, one of whom is his girlfriend, and another whom his partner is having an affair with. When an up-and-coming band moves into the apartment next door, Reno complains to his landlord, but the man ignores his requests for getting the band to turn down the volume. Feeling fed up, Reno decides to take out his frustration during the evenings, and grabs a power drill and portable battery pack.
Forgive me for not realizing beforehand that The Driller Killer, a fairly infamous proto-slasher picture released in a time where the "video nasty" term was becoming far too frequently heard (just like on here), was directed by Mr. Abel Ferrera, an early purveyor of all things sleazy in cinema. Before he went on to direct pictures such as King of New York and Bad Lieutenant (which is arguably one of the more notorious pictures starring a mainstream actor to come out in the early 90s), he supervised and, using the alias of Jimmy Laine, also starred in this low budget schlockfest. But hey, everybody has to start somewhere, and in the case of his debut, I suppose that there was nowhere to go but up after it wrapped and premiered.
As to why the head of the flick chose to act under a pseudonym for his directorial debut, I am not quite sure, though I'm certain that I could research this and come back later with a definitive answer in less than two minutes. Though I'm well aware that technology back in 1979 was nowhere near as sophisticated as it is now, I can't help but wonder if one certain motion picture was still fresh in the mind of Ferrera and writer Nicholas St. John. Let me think here for just a moment, and see if the clues I've written down in my notes remind me of anything. Outside of our unstable protagonist, and perhaps one other individual, there isn't a single soul to root for. A lot of the scenery and commentary could be seen as too topical, often drawing the ire of our main character, though that is not necessarily problematic. The woman in his apartment who isn't his companion looks frighteningly similar to Mel Smith's albino torturer in The Princess Bride. Okay, that last one withstanding, a lot of The Driller Killer makes the picture out to be a more sadistic, and almost "early punk" version of Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver. There's nothing wrong with this, seeing as how the latter is cited as one of the most influential movies of the 1970s, but what blows my mind is the people who attempt to say that there's something deeper to be found in Ferrera's work. Well, you have the right to call me ignorant and just plain uneducated, because I saw nothing of the sort. Just a sleazy, slightly bloody, and occasionally boring look into the mind of a man sliding down a slippery slope.
I'm aware that this has a nice, devoted following in the horror community, and I agree that having to wait twenty three years for a proper uncut version of the film to come in the U.K. is just absurd, but I'm honestly not feeling too strong about this one folks. Most of the performances, be they in the acting category or even from that really aggravating band that serves as one of the many reasons that Reno has a nervous breakdown (if they wanted you to feel just as insane as he was, mission accomplished), are on the levels of professionals in the pornography industry. From what I have heard, there were plans to remake this back in 2007 with British filmmaker Andrew Jones attached to direct and Ferrera presumably sitting at his home eating a hoagie. Alas, it never materialized beyond the initial planning stages and finished script, so it's sitting somewhere collecting dust. As much as I didn't really care for the original The Driller Killer, I think it's a crying shame that such a project never came to be, as this is just begging to be remade, though I have to admit that going overboard on the budget might remove a lot of what makes it so beloved by its fans.
But they just need to sit down and watch Taxi Driver again anyway. Seriously.
Ten year old Timmy is caught by his mother assembling a jigsaw puzzle of a bare naked woman. Outraged, she slaps the young man and demands that he burn all of his offensive material, but instead, he returns with an axe, using it along with a hacksaw to murder and dismember his parent. When the police arrive, a blood-soaked Timmy hides in the closet, convincing them that he is an innocent, and ensuring that he gets off the hook. Forty years later, female co-eds have begun turning up on school grounds horribly disfigured and missing particular limbs. Local authorities begin to research the possibility of a serial killer being on the loose, and the connection to this past atrocity is stronger than it seems.
You have to admire any horror movie whose tagline reads "It's Exactly What You Think It Is!" and opens up with the Grindhouse Releasing logo. There is no disguising the fact that Spanish-American slasher Pieces is, well, a slasher picture. It's also unabashedly telling you that it isn't original in the slightest, but it at least knows that you've paid good money to see attractive, occasionally barely-clothed college students die in horrible, bloody, and often trashy ways.
Make no mistake about it, Pieces is forthrightly tawdry, but unlike The Driller Killer, there isn't any sort of fake message that one can attempt to conjure up from beneath the surface. It is about watching dumb caucasian people get slaughtered by a mysterious killer who may or may not be a member of the faculty. This "whodunnit" storyline is nothing new, and if you can figure out the culprit before too long, don't be surprised. Maybe you could explain to me why director Juan Piquer Simon, whose only other work that I recognize is 1988's Slugs (almost made the cut this year!), decided to dub over the entire cast when they are all clearly and proficiently speaking English. The overacting from these voiceovers is so ripe with hilarity that it makes Chris Klein's role in Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li look subtle and nuanced in comparison. Still, it helps make the experience that much more enjoyable, especially when Paul L. Smith (Bluto from Popeye) shows up as the bearded and suspicious-looking Redd Herrington.
Despite its simplicity and familiarity in the plot and character department, there are some parts to Pieces (ugh, bad pun) that give it a unique feel, though it may be giving away spoilers if I discussed them in detail. It's easy to see the influence that this had on more modern-day pictures such as Lucky McGee's underrated psychological horror project May and another entry from last year's marathon that also had to do with female-centric mutilation. Outside of motion pictures, it also wouldn't surprise me if comic book author Garth Ennis had been able to catch a glimpse of this during his childhood and written some of the villain's motivation into Odin Quincannon, one of Preacher's several antagonists. And there's a good chance that he would have seen it too, considering that Pieces was one of the few films to escape the BBFC's wrath back in the day, saving it from that ugly label that I've already grown sick of talking about. This shocks me quite a bit considering how much more gratuitous and flat-out gruesome the violence is, especially when you consider that this released a little over thirty years ago. Labeling the picture misogynistic isn't something that I could argue for or against, since save for the final ten minutes, EVERY single human being who is grossly butchered is an attractive, young female. Whatever conclusion that you come to, or end up like me wherein you understand both sides of the spectrum, remember that it's just a movie, and you shouldn't let it bother you a great deal considering that there are at least a good several dozen other pictures out there that will do that trick just fine.
I get the feeling that Pieces is one of those little flicks that you could put on at a Halloween party, playing it on repeat in the background for likeminded people who show up and crave something nasty or gory to keep them occupied when they aren't mingling with others and giving compliments to guests who bought their costumes pre-packaged. Okay, that sounded pretentious and I almost went off on a tangent. How about this? It's a fun little hack and slash movie for those who are avid about the genre and are constantly craving more titles to add to their collection. Speaking of that, I was terribly sad to find out that most of the cast and crew involved with Pieces, which includes director Juan Piquer Simon, have passed away over the last two or three decades. Keeping my fingers crossed for a future release from the likes of Shout! Factory seems like a waste of time now.
Thanks for the memories though folks. You leave behind great sequences involving a waterbed stabbing and strangulation by fishing net. And the best chainsaw kills that I've seen in ages.
Tomorrow, it's back to modern times with Only Lovers Left Alive and *deep breath* Vampire Academy.
Yeah, the latter is going to be rough. I can feel it...
