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.
While wrapping up my review for director Mike Dougherty's second full-length foray into the realm of horror-comedy, it occurred to me that I never published a full review for my final entry in 2015's iteration of Unseen Terror. Yes, I did watch one production released during these past eleven months that could technically qualify as "Day 31" (which would be Tremors 5: Bloodlines), but I considered that to be more of a bonus than an actual posting. So, here is a very quick summary of my thoughts on the big screen adaptation of author R.L. Stine's beloved Goosebumps!
It's an amusing flick that serves as not just a good stepping stone for the next generation to get into horror films of yesteryear, but also as a genuinely fun experience for individuals such as ourselves who grew up idolizing and adoring the golden and silver ages of scarier pictures. Highly recommended, especially if you have younger family members of your own. Still, I wish they had
somehow found a way to incorporate Monster Blood into the equation.
There, are ya happy you (nonexistent) harpies?.....Okay, maybe I'll do a more realized and fleshed out review sometime in the future, but I'd strongly prefer to watch it again so that I may refresh my memory when it comes to little things that either intrigued or disappointed me. Anyways, let us move on to the main subject of today's discussion.
Several days before Christmas, young Max is dreading a yearly visit from the assorted members of his mother's side of the family. While he wishes to continue with what can only be referred to as a "traditional" Xmas celebration and get-together, mounting tensions and disapproval between the adults and their own offspring prevent true happiness and comfort from occurring. Frustrated and upset with the entire situation, Max storms upstairs, angrily tears up a letter initially written for Santa Claus, and tosses it out of his window. Within no time, a massive snowstorm hits, cutting off all power around town. Trapped in the abode, the people of the household scrounge up what they can in order to stay warm and safe, but something far more sinister has surfaced outside: a demonic entity known only as "Krampus," who has come not to reward those who celebrate the holiday, but to punish instead.
As mentioned above, Ohio native (and all around cool guy) Michael Dougherty isn't a stranger to the realm of theme-based horror films. Quite a few years ago, the man dropped a ditty of a gem titled Trick 'r Treat, in which a series of short, clever stories set during Halloween night intertwined with one another, concocting easily the best anthology in the genre since George Romero's 1982 classic Creepshow. To say that expectations of his next project were high is perhaps the biggest understatement of this entire blog's history.
Thankfully, all of the anticipation pays off, as Krampus is the right kind of fun that is sorely needed in a time where folks such as myself are in desperate need of a good old-fashioned dose of fantasy to help us escape from a rather grim, and often more terrifying reality. Dougherty, along with his fellow cowriters Zach Shields and Todd Casey, concoct a picture that manages to take its PG-13 rating and run it to the very brink of insanity (in the best way possible). As pretentious as it may sound, the trio "get it." They aren't here to change the game, but they are damn sure determined to make sure that you and your friends will have something to talk and smile about after all is said and done.
Much like its predecessor, Krampus boasts a nice cast of recognizable faces to help lure in the casual viewer. Max's (Emjay Anthony) own family includes fan favorites such as Adam Scott (Parks and Recreation) and Toni Colette (Little Miss Sunshine, United States of Tara), but the young man himself should seem familiar to fans of 2014's comedy Chef. Comedic stalwarts such as David Koechner (Anchorman, The Office) and Conchata Ferrell (Two And A Half Men) also pop up as vibrant, if not slightly embarrassing members of the protagonist's extended family. They all provide important roles, and even if they aren't necessarily relatable human beings, the stereotypes of what they are based off of will seem and sound all too familiar to anybody who has ever dreaded seeing that one particular member that shares your name or connected tree. As wonderful as their presence can be at times, one can't help but feel that the latter's own children could fall into the dreaded "red shirt" category that admittedly befall a large amount of holiday-themed horror pictures. Still, these complaints are quite minor when you witness one of these brats being attacked by the titular being's own demonic, mischievous toys.
Oh I am truly sorry, did I mention those? Well, the numerous trailers certainly gave us a brief glimpse into Krampus' sack, but you honestly have no idea how fabulously creative and hilariously demented the sequences that involve these little critters really are. I would implore that you refrain from searching or googling anything beyond a still frame of the flick, because it will ruin and tarnish some of the surprise. Because of its safer rating branding, the decided lack of bloodshed and gore may break the hearts of more fickle and finicky fans, but what it lacks in violence, it makes up for in spades with pure, ballsy, and uncommon entertainment. Hell, to be perfectly honest, keeping my mouth shut on aspects of Krampus' greatness is just eating away at me. I would love to talk about the Coraline-esque animated segment sewed seamlessly into the story, but as someone who thoroughly detests spoilers, I shall respectfully remain silent.
The amount of love and admiration for classics of the past is quite easy to spot in Krampus, and over time, I could see it making a run for a spot in the list for best christmas-based horror films of all time. Yes, it is new, and yes, it does have some small problems here and there, but if you yearn for the same type of enjoyment, zaniness, and occasional jumps that you first experienced with pictures like Gremlins, then I can assuredly guarantee you that Krampus is right up your alley. Even if your interest is only marginal, I strongly encourage that you pay your hard-earned cash to catch it a theater, as we need more unique and free-flowing ideas to make their way to cinemas, rather than retreads or remakes.
Plus, why wait for only the new Star Wars movie? Let's support the little guy for once.
On the way to the hospital, a pregnant Amelia Vanek experiences a tremendous shock when the car her husband is driving gets into an accident. Thankfully, she and her unborn child survive, but at a great cost: her partner Oskar is killed in the crash. Many years go by, and an emotionally damaged Amelia is now constantly struggling to control her son Samuel, who is excessively active and repeatedly insisting that monsters are out to get him. During a night where he can not sleep, the mother pulls a random, mysterious book from his shelf to read to him: a story about an entity named "The Babadook," which will continuously torment those who are made aware of its existence. Thinking nothing of this peculiarly dark tale, Amelia's disturbance and paranoia suddenly begins to grow as her offspring speaks of this being trying to kill him, and she discovers that there is a truly dark presence that is out to end the both of them.
I'm sure that most of you are well aware of the existence of a very rare breed of horror movie. In a market dominated by motion pictures that serve you only cheap jump scares or the gratuitous bloodbath, which there is nothing wrong with mind you, there are the oft-forgotten ones that truly disturbed or terrified us during the prime of our youth. For me, it was Ridley Scott's Alien and Steven Spielberg's Jaws. They were nightmare-inducing, building tension in a world that seemed destined to collapse under the weight of stress with no absolute, easy solution in sight. Without trying to overhype this particular picture, I can safely say that Jennifer Kent's directorial debut, the oddly-titled The Babadook, has all the makings and traits of a future classic. Heck, one could argue that its current rating on a site such as Rotten Tomatoes is proof of that, but I don't like to bestow something that important and prolific upon any film. Well, not this soon I mean.
What makes The Babadook work so effectively is the film's reliance on tension and atmosphere to help tell a story. Little things begin to pop up, be they random sounds, music dropping in and out, and the always-reliable moments that try and convince the audience that maybe you were just seeing things that aren't there. The concept of a child and their parent(s) being pursued or haunted by an unseen force is far from an original concept, but given Kent's ability to help pull out such tremendous performances from the leads and make them easy to root for, it's easily forgivable. Essie Davis' portrayal of Amelia is nothing short of grand, and she's fully immersed in her role as a fractured, shell of a woman who appears to be struggling with multiple stages of grief while seemingly being unable to keep a grasp of her own sanity because of her child's hyperactive, erratic behavioral issues. I know that many viewers will likely find Noah Wiseman's Samuel to be quite irksome, but as someone who has worked in retail most of his life, I can say that I have seen more children who acted like that then you would think. Plus, his nature and strange tendencies only add to his mother's spiral into depression and the curious intrigue about what seems to be bothering him.
There's also the concern of the titular....thing of the picture. Earlier this month, I reviewed Shadow Of The Vampire, and forgot to mention one, singular thing that helped accentuate that film's positives: Max Schreck's Nosferatu looked really, really unnatural. If you want to concoct or create a truly brilliant boogeyman or monster, you don't always need to have them kill dumb, sex-craved teenagers or even speak semblances of a full-constructed sentence (whether it's for fun or trying to highlight the "I'm not normal/from around here" cliche found in flicks released post-1970). The creature in question, whether you wish to believe Samuel's pleas for help or not, is quite striking and appears to be honest-to-god unsettling. At a certain point, I just stopped taking notes and wondered how disturbed I would have been if I had made the decision to turn off the lights and listen to just the audio on my headphones (Amelia's first "encounter" with it while lying in bed got under my skin). I guarantee that the possibility of me crapping my pants would have been rather high.
There is nothing that I can add to my review to The Babadook that hasn't been previously echoed by any respected journalist or critic (though I have seen horror fans are quite divided on it, especially with its ending). Along with We Need To Talk About Kevin, this is one of the only entries that has legitimately creeped me out so far, filled with fantastic performances and some quite fascinating symbolism that mercifully doesn't come across as pretentious. It is easily in the top three features that I've watched so far, and I am honestly tempted to just end this early because I want to end on a high note. Go buy the movie at any retail store (Shout! Factory has an exclusive Blu-Ray that is rather inexpensive), rent it on your cable box's on-demand feature, or view it on Netflix Instant Streaming.
Tomorrow, it's HALLO-GODDAMN-WEEN. As such, we shall do what was original promised: we will close with a 2015 release. Still, I can't help but wonder if I should cheat and go back to the past, though I suspect that this may become a reality if the project in question is of hit-or-miss quality...
As the days towards Halloween are counting down, the time in which I can watch and review new, assorted projects from throughout the final three "years" of Unseen Terror is getting smaller and smaller. With that, I am going to pump out a few quick ones today, including the 2013 entry that I was hoping would warrant a longer writeup, but just didn't do enough to warrant more than a couple of complete paragraphs. But anyways, enough with the rambling.
Ahhh, another year means another entry in The Simpsons' yearly "Treehouse of Horror" anthology. Admittedly, I skipped last year's installment (mostly due to shaky memory and a lack of time), but seeing as how disappointed I was in 2013's effort, my expectations were relatively low this time around. As I observed two years ago, the episode usually starts off with a bang. In this case, it's an animated opening from irreverent, demented oddball John Kricfalusi, whom most children of the 1990s will recognize as the creator of the brilliant The Ren & Stimpy Show. It's a thing of insane beauty, and easily the highlight of the entire experience. Rather than have you seek it out on Youtube or Dailymotion, I'll just post it below.
In terms of the actual segments, to say that the quality ranges from good to awful seems like something that is commonly heard amongst Simpsons fans these days. To the surprise of absolutely nobody, they're right on the money with this one. The first tale, "Wanted: Dead, Then Alive," revolves around the always reliable Sideshow Bob FINALLY fulfilling his wish of killing Bart Simpson, though he begins to realize that perhaps the boy's existence kept him from living a life of complacency and dullness. Therefore, he finds a way to reanimate the young man, so that he may kill him repeatedly through various means. Of the three tales, it's inarguably the most fun, mostly due to Kelsey Grammer's ability to to lift and improve any episode from mediocre to, at the very least "good." Our second one is a takeoff on Godzilla, with portions of the story drawn in black and white, featuring some amusing nods to the absurdities and charms of the Toho behemoth's origin. Then, it takes an unexpected turn by changing into a spoof of the remake from 1998 that shares the same name. "Homerzilla" as it is dubbed, is very hit or miss, with the second half falling a little flat (the concept would've been handled much better seventeen years ago). We conclude with a Chronicle parody that, to be as nice as I can be, is really, really bad. Forget the fact that The Simpsonsalready did a satire of the superhero genre in a segment from long ago; the biggest problem with "Telepaths Of Glory" is that it just isn't very funny.
Overall, Treehouse Of Horror XXVI was a tossup for me. The first fifteen minutes or so (which does include half of its second story) were very enjoyable, but the rest provides glaring evidence of the show's downward spiral into below-average quality. If you can find a rip online, or have access to a cable box with On-Demand features, give it a whirl and judge it for yourself.
Well, Oculus undoubtedly has one thing going for itself: it is the first motion picture to be produced by the rightly-maligned WWE Studios that does not feature a single performer from the wrestling company that bears the similar name. The Mike Flanagan-led project is also the first for the company to have the direct involvement of scary movie juggernaut Blumhouse Productions, whose association with franchises such as Paranormal Activity, Insidious, The Purge, and Sinister have solidified them as the go-to company for newer, widely distributed horror flicks that are more accessible for squeamish ticket buyers. Yes, a good chunk of the releases on their resume have been met with derision and disdain from older fans such as myself, but I'm willing to admit that they are still capable of putting out a picture here and there, be it meant to terrify or not, that is quite entertaining (Whiplash and The Green Inferno come to mind). Plus, their track record is far more trustworthy than other associates such as Dark Castle Entertainment.
But jesus christ, when it came to Oculus, a tale about a supposedly possessed mirror that may have played a part in the death of the parents of two siblings, I could not bring myself to careat all. Perhaps I would have been invested more in the story had several things not been so distracting though. For starters, the decision to have it continuously rely upon flashbacks that parallel modern events ends up not drawing you in, but making you feel as if you are watching a two-part film instead. Every segment that features our two leads as children made me ponder if this was originally conceived as the beginning to a potential franchise, with the kids growing up and trying to stop this evil mirror after some time has passed. If this wasn't the initial plan, then maybe it should have been. Heck, look at the recently-canceled second adaptation of Stephen King's It: their idea was to have the plot split into two separate pictures, with one focusing on the protagonists in their youth and the other with them as adults. Risky as that may have sounded, something daring such as that would benefited a motion picture like this too. That brings me to my second problem with Oculus: it is relying on viewers to believe that it is unlike anything that we have seen before. True, the argument could be made that technically NOTHING coming out in the realm of horror is fully, one hundred percent unique anymore (even Martyrs and We Need To Talk About Kevin, as great as they are, have parts that are reminiscent of works from yesteryear), but there are numerous pictures that did this concept better, with Alexandre Aja's 2008 supernatural flick Mirrors being the most obvious of the bunch. Finally, for as much as I like Karen Gillan (Guardians Of The Galaxy) as a person and as an actress, she is just plain terrible here. Her performance is an awkward balance of irritation and condescendence (coupled with a very "matter of fact" manner of speaking), and I didn't see how any member of the audience would want to root for her to succeed in taking revenge on the cursed object.
Oculus didn't do anything for me other than make me check the time on my phone repeatedly, but in all honesty, even with my aforementioned disapproval, I would still be willing to give this one more try at another time. It does feature some decent makeup work, plus an ending that will stick with you through thick and thin. Do I expect to be proven wrong about the rest of my opinions within a few years? Maybe it's too soon to say so. Go watch it on Netflix Instant Streaming, and come back telling me that I was just wrong about the entire experience.
I don't believe that I've ever mentioned it before, but the first two movies in the Tremors franchise stand as some of my favorite horror-comedies of all time. They are a brilliant blend of silly, quotable comedy, old time monster movie love, and western overtones that can stand the test of time better than most other pictures released in or around the decade. Plus, in the case of the later sequels, Tremors is one of the few series that still uses practical effects and puppetry, which is an art that while seemingly archaic by today's standards, packs far more heart than anything that a computer could produce. So, when I heard that we were FINALLY receiving a new flick after an eleven year wait, I was certainly excited, though I did have some skepticism. Between 2003 and 2004, we were blessed with Tremors 4: The Legend Begins and the SciFi television show simply titled Tremors: The Series. One could argue about the quality of these particular projects (I still think that the latter was undeserving of the sheer amount of negative feedback it got, which was mostly due to taking over beloved show Farscape's time slot), but the general consensus was that the fans were left feeling a bit underwhelmed. In what had to be the scariest casting news in recent memory, Universal Pictures also unveiled Jamie Kennedy (Scream, Son Of The Mask) as the newest sidekick for gun-crazed hero Burt Gummer, more often than not portrayed wonderfully by Family Ties' Michael Gross.
Mercifully, these fears are not completely realized. Though a good chunk of the series' original creators are nowhere to be found on Tremors 5: Bloodlines, their presence can be felt throughout its brisk ninety nine minute running time. I don't need to harp on about Gross' great depiction of the lone character to make it through these five flicks and television program, but he does bring a touch of insanity that comes naturally from living in near isolation while descending into bouts of occasional paranoia. This is all the more apparent from Bloodlines' opening segment, which consists of Burt talking over stock footage from prior installments and humorously drawn animatics of the Graboids, Shriekers (which are sadly absent this time around), and Assblasters. After this, Kennedy's character Travis (who I found far less loathsome than I expected him to be), along with an unrelated businessman from South Africa, convince him to travel to the republic so that he may take care of a certain "infestation" if you will. Hey, for fun, speak or imagine that last sentence in your best Dusty Rhodes voice babeh.
The plot to Bloodlines does sound simple enough (and eerily similar to Tremors 2: Aftershocks), but for a franchise that has pretty much written itself into a corner with what one can do with its man-eating monstrosities, it still manages to provide pleasant surprises in the form of geographical differences with the creatures. Sadly, most of the familiar, bloodthirsty faces, which have been redesigned decently well for this trip out east, are inevitable victims of modern technology, which means that about a good ninety percent of Tremors 5: Bloodlines' antagonists are computer-generated. It's a damn shame, but I suppose that the decision was made to help cut costs, especially since I'm sure that shooting in the country of South Africa was not particularly cheap to do. The fact that this chapter also takes place in another part of the world made me realize something that I had never noticed in the twenty five years of Tremors' existence: there have never been any African American males or females on the big(ish) screen until now. Hooray for progress!
It may not be a complete triumph or return to form for the series, but Tremors 5: Bloodlines is an acceptable sequel that will go down as being far better than it had the right to be. It doesn't set out to change the game, or to even try and restart the entire process with a new hero at the helm, but when did Tremors ever have that intention to begin with? There is enough nostalgic nods to the prequels, goofy lines, and graboid guts to provide lots of love for the fans, even if it does feel like it was made for them and ONLY them. I say that if you can produce anything that makes Jamie Kennedy seem tolerable, you warrant a big thumbs up and deserve a round of drinks. Those of you who are purveyors of all things fun and cheesy can currently watch it on Netflix Instant Streaming, and you can buy the DVD or Blu-Ray for a relatively low price at most retail giants.
Tomorrow, I finally take the plunge and review what one of my favorite film critics, Mr. Mark Kermode, says was his absolute favorite picture of 2014. Will it be worth the hype? Or will it be overrated tripe?
With her career as a writer having gone down the drain, and being reduced to living in a dilapidated-looking house, Eva Khatchadourian reminisces about a more complicated time in her life. Through a series of flashbacks, we learn of the woman's reasons for life having declined so quickly. Many years ago, Eva and her husband Franklin welcomed their firstborn son Kevin into this world. As they raise him throughout the years, Eva starts to notice very unusual things about the young man: he shows apathy towards any of his mother's attempts at bonding, and more notably, begins to display signs of hostility towards others and his laterborn sister Celia. As time continues to pass by, Kevin's behavior becomes gradually worse, and not even his own family can prepare themselves for what is to come.
Perhaps one Dr. Samuel Loomis had this figured out from the beginning:
Folks, I think that it might be time to shut down this year's marathon. Without trying to hype up We Need To Talk About Kevin too much, I don't see how any other film that I have selected for viewing will come close to rivaling director Lynne Ramsay's adaptation of the controversial work of fiction that bears the same name. Also, I'm well aware that this technically qualifies as a 2011 feature, but save for one, singular theatrical release, those of us who live stateside didn't get a chance to catch the entire product until May of 2012. Thus, it shall serve as that year's entry. Deal with it.
The question about whether We Need To Talk About Kevin should be categorized as horror is something that will spark much debate among those who show any interest in it in the first place. Personally, I view this is as a piece of psychological terror lead by outstanding performances from its cast, each of whom understands their figure perfectly and is capable of fleshing them out more than most flicks that fall into the very hit-or-miss "troubled kid" genre. Then again, it also deals with far more interesting concepts that keep it from falling into that pit with no way out, such as the ideas of nurture v. nature (The Omen and Rosemary's Baby are a little more upfront about these type of things). We see that Kevin's own mother Eva, played by the amazing Tilda Swinton (Burn After Reading, The Chronicles Of Narnia), is far from a perfect person herself, showing random tiny bursts of displeasure at the boy's own problems which are inevitable when you are young. And yet, there are far more numerous moments of cruelty committed by her son over the years that make the audience question as to how many of his actions are truly inherent.
It's a scientific fact that the aforementioned Swinton is rarely bad in anything that she signs on to, and it is very easy to see why she nominated for a Golden Globe that she arguably should have won (because how many god damn awards does Meryl Streep need?). The titular child is portrayed by three different players: one while he is an infant, one while he is in his preteen phase, and finally while he is stuck in the oh-so-fun high school years. I can't say anything about the former since all the baby does is cry repeatedly, but the other two cast members are powerfully creepy. Having discovered that Ezra Miller (The Perks Of Being A Wallflower), who plays Kevin at his oldest, will be donning the costume of Barry Allen/The Flash in the upcoming Batman V. Superman: Dawn Of Justice does give me a very small amount of hope that the film won't be an inflated mess, even if I think he would make for a better villain than a superhero. John C. Reilly also has a supporting role as seemingly the opposite of Swinton's Eva; a man who just seems far too content or blissfully ignorant to notice the signs that something could be quite amiss with his offspring. Truth be told, there isn't a bad acting job whatsoever in We Need To Talk About Kevin, even from the extras in the background whose whole motif seemed to consist of "act shocked and/or heartbroken." From what I understand, Ramsay decided to take up this particular project after multiple attempts at helming/filming The Lovely Bones didn't quite work out, but after having seen her pull such good performances from this group of talented people, I hope that she is allowed to head more productions that weren't her first choice to begin with.
Some motion pictures, no matter the classification, have the potential to genuinely bother or haunt you. Be it through actions of the characters, actors and actresses fully immersing themselves in their roles so well that you forget who they are when the cameras stop rolling, or just due to a great soundtrack (composed by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead), symbolism, and cinematography, these are the films that we will be discussing for great length after they have wrapped. Even after all of the praise above, I'm STILL not sure if We Need To Talk About Kevin should be defined as a pure horror movie, but it's one of the few flicks that I've watched this month that nearly left me emotionally crushed and disturbed. If you're looking for honest-to-god discomfort with your scary movies, or a character study that can remind you of works of the past such as Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer, then I strongly urge that you seek this out as soon as you're done reading the last of these typed sentences. The Cannes Film Festival standout can currently be viewed for free on Amazon Prime, and is readily available for purchase on DVD and Blu-Ray.
Tomorrow, WWE Studios make a return to Unseen Terror. But while their attempt at rebooting a lousy franchise failed miserably, perhaps one of their own original concepts could work better...
40--year-old idler Juan seems to be fairly content with his life. He may not have a real, full-time job, but that doesn't prevent him from making ends meet or from killing time with his best friend Lazaro. While fishing on a small raft one day, the two accidentally snag a human carcass that comes to life and attempts to attack them. Lazaro manages to put it down, and they think of it as nothing but a random, isolated incident. Not long afterwards, things slowly start to go awry in Juan's neck of the woods, with numerous other reanimated corpses, being mistakenly identified by the media as products of America, swarming the republic and devouring anyone in sight. Disposing of several more "dissidents," the duo storm up an idea that won't just rid people of their undead problems, but may also make them quite a bit of money on the side.
You know, now that I have had a little bit of time to think about it, I don't recall ever seeing a zombie film set in or around Cuba. Even in the printed publications Fangoria and Horror Hound (where I first heard about this particular picture), they couldn't remember the last time that something has been set there, especially in terms of ones that deal with this fantastical, supernatural subgenre of horror. Then again, writer/director Alejandro Brugues' Juan Of The Dead (translated from Juan De Los Muertos) is apparently the first independent production to come from the country in quite some time, and it has the backing of a good number of notable Spanish and Cuban industries as co-producers on the project. Personally, I am all for film expansion from any and every country imaginable, since I believe that language barriers should not hinder one's enjoyment of a fun flick. If you are still bothered by having to read subtitles in 2015, you need to examine your head. Or better yet,
Yes, the irony of posting a Shaun Of The Dead clip in a review for a movie with an eerily similar-sounding title is not lost on me. Let's move on.
Thankfully, Juan does provide for a decent amount of fun considering that it was most likely not blessed with the largest amount of money at its disposal. And while the horror aspects of the productiondon't have anything too spectacular to discuss (save for one or two random occurrences towards the middle and final act), its sense of humor manages to keep the audience from getting bored. The titular character (portrayed by Alexis Diaz de Villegas) plays everything with a relatively straight face, melding slacker apathy with the hidden desire to do better for that one special person in their life (in this case, it's his estranged offspring). Yes, that aspect has been seen before in far too many flicks that I can name, and he may not be as easy to relate to as some of the other heroes that we've come across on this year's marathon, but he does have some semblances of humanity that keep the viewer from wishing he was gone. His interactions with close chum Lazaro (Jorge Molina) provide for some of the feature's more memorable moments, as do some of the more subtle nods to zombie films of prior years such as Lucio Fulci's Zombi 2. Most of the film's top laughs come from when is it at its zaniest or for when things quickly go south, such as when the group of survivors first attempt to decipher what the hell is going on, using various methods in the hopes of determining what fictional being is causing trouble and why every single person is morphing into "dissidents."
Not all of the humor hits though, and some of it just comes across as a bit on the mean and maniacal side. There's a crossdressing character named La China (who explains that this was chosen because you can't put up any walls around her) whose whole schtick seemed to be acting like a prude, and even when she isn't present, there does seem to be a bit of homophobia that permeates throughout the other characters' dialogue. Juan's equally lazy friend Lazaro also seems to have a tendency to attack the occasional familiar face over paltry things, and even resorts to beating innocents to death because they owe him money. Having never been to Cuba, I don't know if these are common to hear and witness down there, but I felt a bit more disappointed than I wanted to be.
By no means will Juan Of The Dead change the game when it comes to movies that deal with combating legions of the undead, but it doesn't appear that such a thing was its original intention. Thankfully, it still manages to get by on some charm, the amusing penchant to poke fun at its own protagonists' warped sense of morality, and a fair, clever way to disguise a lower budget (not to mention a nice use of Sid Vicious' "My Way," which is the first time that I've heard it since Goodfellas) . If you're feeling cheeky and up for a quick watch during your occasional day off, this newer entry into the horror-comedy genre is available to rent on sites such as Youtube and Amazon Prime, and the DVD/Blu-Ray from Focus Features can be purchased here.
Tomorrow, we have another Academy Award winner on the blog (our first since Halle Berry). Will she leave a lasting impression in the 2011 entry? Well, to throw in a hint, we have to talk about that...
At an office building in Philadelphia, five seemingly random strangers board an elevator. Much to their surprise, it breaks down in between floors, and they make a call to security to assist them out. Despite the fact that those on the monitors have no way of actually hearing them speak, they still spot the group and send repairmen to help. On the outside, a detective named Bowden is assigned to a case of suicide, which seems to have taken place at the same architecture. He is requested to head over and identify those who are trapped, but every time that the power flashes inside the device, something horrific occurs, with one guard believing that the culprit may not lie in these people, but something far more sinister.
It's inevitable that all good things must eventually come to an end. Beginning with 2006's Evil Bong, I had what one could mistake as a nice "streak" going for me. Every film that I was watching produced good feedback, with final thoughts ranging from decently entertaining to DAMN good. This is all the more shocking when you consider the incorrect opinion many have of there being very little worthwhile horror movies that came about during the latter half of the 2000s. As I entered another new decade, I was feeling optimistic. After all, the year 2010 gave us I Saw The Devil, Tucker And Dale Vs. Evil, Stake Land, and Trollhunter, so who wouldn't be a little stoked?
And then, M. Night Shyamalan reared his ugly head, taking my run of solid luck and wiping it on his posterior. Okay, if we have to get technical, the Sixth Sense and Unbreakable director can't claim a flick like Devil as his own, but his stink covers the entire project in a way that you just can't ignore so easily. Hell, even without his involvement as the initial conceiver of the story, the man would still have his name attached as a producer, as would one of his closest confidants by the name of Sam Mercer, who has stood by the much-maligned Shyamalan throughout most of his spiraling, perplexing career. But as one can see by the poster and a quick visit to IMDB, both of these gentlemen do have this to add to their resumes, and that is a truly sad thing to say.
Several portions of Devil, including the plot that unravels outside of the lift itself, feel awfully clunky and awkward. It doesn't help when Shyamalan and screenwriter Brian Nelson (Hard Candy, 30 Days Of Night) concoct some truly absurd and flat out dumb dialogue for our assorted leads to spout (be on the lookout for Jacob Vargas' sandwich line). Performances are a 50/50 split of actors trying far too hard to look interested or seeming as if they just woke up from an all night bender that consisted of nothing but alcohol and downers. Having still not seen the Academy Award-winning feature Argo, I don't want to be too hard on Chris Messina's performance as the main protagonist who is attempting to decipher what is exactly occurring inside this mechanical hoist, but my god, he gives off a vibe that screams that he would rather be spending time with his family rather than acting through a mediocre picture from John Erick Dowdle, whose other recent works include Owen Wilson vehicle No Escape and the wholly unnecessary Quarantine. Thankfully, there is a small light in Devil's rather dark-filled product: composer Fernando Velazquez manages to piece together a fairly stable score, adding in touches of real dread for what is to come in this claustrophobic area. One wishes that he had decided to fasten it to a better film though.
Devil could have been, should have been, and perhaps one day WILL be a supremely satisfying experience. In the hands of a more talented group of individuals, the cool-sounding concept would have provided for far more excitement and legitimate scares, rather than leave you rolling your eyes and growing somewhat disinterested in its revelations that you're very likely to correctly guess within the first act. Given that the gap in between remaking older motion pictures is much smaller than you would think, perhaps we shall see this handled better by the time that we as people have reached the middle of a new decade. Before that time period arrives, however, the purportedly planned followup may have been released to theaters, and if the rumors are true of Shyamalan's wishes for there to be a series of projects that can serve as his equivalent to John Carpenter's infamous and beloved "Apocalypse Trilogy," then the wait for a retelling could take longer than even I thought it would. If you're curious about the end results, and would like to agree or disagree with the paragraphs regarding my disappointments, Devil is readily available for purchase on DVD and Blu-Ray at most retail outlets and stores, and the option to watch it on Netflix Instant Streaming is still an option (at least as of this writing).
Tomorrow, Shyamalamadingdong is (hopefully) a one and done guest on Unseen Terror, and we'll take a trip back into zombie territory, albeit with a fiery Latino twist.
Jess is a single mother with an autistic son named Tommy, whom she has been planning on taking out for a boat trip. While her companions wait for her at the docks, she ends up arriving alone, appearing to be quite shaken. The small group commences sailing, with several of these strangers reacquainting or introducing themselves to Jess. A lengthy amount of time passes, and a strange, seemingly unavoidable storm appears in the sky before them. During this chaos, the boat is flipped, and one person disappears after it has passed. Panicked, but still optimistic, the gang spots an ocean liner approaching, and they proceed to scream for help before boarding it. Oddly enough, the ship appears to be abandoned, but Jess can't seem to shake the feeling that this vessel seems eerily, disturbingly familiar.
Man.
Just....man.
Yesterday, I revisited France's Martyrs, a sinister effort that I initially dismissed back in the day, only to find myself being able to appreciate it more upon a second viewing. It was twisted, unique, and wholly memorable, shooting itself into the top ten of films that I have eyeballed thus far. Basically, what many feel is lacking from a large chunk of scary movies that are relatively easy to obtain. For what feels like the first time since the earliest entries in this year's Unseen Terror, I feel that we have the very rare one-two combo with back-to-back flicks that are equals to one another in terms of quality and originality, though this foray into psychological terrorfrom British director Christopher Smith (Black Death, Severance), simply known as Triangle, deserves far more attention than it has received by now.
If one were to google pictures of a production such as this, your first thoughts would be most likely be "Ryan, this just appears to be another run-of-the-mill "killer on the loose" or slasher movie, but set out at sea rather than anywhere on land. Considering all that is out there for viewing and how some of the plots and characters are interchangeable, you can't fool me into watching this."
"You've got some attitude mister."
Triangle could possibly be the hardest piece of media of which I must try to not spoil anything, proving to be more difficult than anything that I've had to deal with in a very long time, be it for this blog-o-thon or just for an average review. Its plot is more akin to complex puzzles such as Christopher Nolan's Memento, and by god you must absolutely pay attention to every minor detail, so as to not get lost and fully grasp every single action taken by its characters. Though the cast of characters assembled may not be unusually complex or uncommon themselves, Melissa George (30 Days Of Night, Dark City) is sensational as the fragile, alert, and fascinating lead protagonist Jess. Admittedly, it does take a tiny amount of time for you to start getting into and relating to her as its heroine, but the possibility of the woman sticking around in your mind and sympathizing with her is quite high.
A rather random observation also hit me during its ninety nine minute running time: the thought of being stuck at sea, especially when you are quite far from land with seemingly no salvation in sight, is quite terrifying. Perhaps that's to blame on Robert Humphreys, the head of cinematography, who accentuates the negatives of the ocean surrounding our befuddled cast. It certainly doesn't help that composer Christian Henson (The Devil's Double) composes a very simple, quiet, creepy song that plays throughout a decent amount of Triangle, only adding to the curious, foreign atmosphere. Any motion picture that can make you feel claustrophobic, even when you're on a vehicle that has decks aplenty, has to be commended.
Even with a tendency to get swallowed up by moments of confusion and occasionally swerving into "mindfuck" territory (which is unavoidable given the subject matter that takes hold at the beginning of its second act), I can not tell you enough times that you should seek this out in some way, shape, or form. With apologies to 2007's entry The Signal, I believe that Triangle may have yanked the trophy for "most underrated" away from it with gusto, and after reminding myself of what else is to come this week, it is going to be even more difficult for something to repeat its own actions of such award thievery. If you're feeling up to watching it with a handicap (of sorts), Triangle is available in multipart videos on social networking sites such as Youtube. It can also be rented on streaming giant Amazon Prime, and can be purchased on DVD (Region 1) and Blu-Ray (Region 2) from various websites.
Tomorrow, we have to deal with.....*sigh* M. Night Shyamalan. Hopefully, it will be the first and last time he shall make an appearance on here.
A young girl runs crying from an abandoned slaughterhouse, having been the recipient of a lengthy series of beatings and thrashings by unknown captors with no specific motives. The child is known as Lucie, and following her escape, she is placed in an orphanage alongside other victims of abuse. Within a short period of time, Lucie is quickly befriended by Anna, another female with whom she eventually falls in love with. Fifteen years pass, and though the women have long since departed from their childhood grounds, Lucie is still tormented by the visions of a disfigured, beaten down creature that she believes will one day kill her. Still, the two band together, tracking down and hoping to exact vengeance on those who harmed Lucie during her youth. What follows, however, is a journey into madness unlike any that a single, breathing human being has ever witnessed.
Yet again, I must confess that I am cheating with an entry on this year's listing for Unseen Terror. Around the time that I first signed up for Netflix's delivery service, I gave into the hype and added France's highly-acclaimed horror picture Martyrs, which most credit as being the arc de triomphe for what critics have dubbed the "New French Extremity." Though a lot of non-horror publications were split down the middle in terms of what they thought of the finished product, it garnered much acclaim from magazines and websites across the world that specialized in covering all things terrifying.
Me? Well, I thought it stank.
Before you jump down my throat, I must reminder you: this was in 2008, and there is a very good possibility that I may have been watching Martyrs while I was in a rather lousy mood. True, there is no proper temperament necessary for something that will be likely tagged as an art picture meets a graphic, hard-to-digest scary movie, but it may explain for why I was willing to go back and revisit something that is surprisingly more challenging to find now than it was during the height of its popularity. Hell, I've even stated that I'll be glad to do this again one day with assorted pictures that were deemed classics by the community, but negatively reviewed by this beardo weirdo, including The Town That Dreaded Sundown and The Lost Boys. And no, I will not be reviewing the sequels to the latter. Even I have my limits folks.
Since I do feel like cutting to the chase once in a while, it seems preposterous that I was dismissive of Martyrs after my first glance all of those years ago, because the movie is so god damn intense that I feel as if those who are looking for originality in this often-maligned genre should have to look no further. For every opportunity that one thinks the flick will sink into a pit of cliches, it twists it into a different form and created multiple moments of legitimate discomfort for even a relatively hard-nosed person like myself. Director Pascal Laugier seems to understand that since the inception of these pictures, their first intent was to frighten the viewer, but still leave you fascinated by the experience that you just went through. It came as no surprise that the Frenchman was actually signed on to head a remake of Clive Barker's Hellraiser, though he was purportedly taken off of the project for essentially trying to make it into, ironically enough, a Hellraiser movie. No matter what your opinion of the man or his projects are, I believe that having to live with the facts that the final theatrical release came from an Alan Smithee film and that the last two entries to bear that franchise's name revolve a computer game and Pinhead not being portrayed by Doug Bradley are crimes of the worst kind.
Now, the notion that Martyrs will revel in the excess or misery is difficult to argue, but without spoiling too much, it does intend to serve as a greater purpose to individuals that are introduced slightly before the first sixty minutes have passed. This gaggle of people also (possibly intentionally) cause the flick to remove most of its spoken dialogue for a large chunk of its final act. While some could complain about losing interest by being bombarded with nothing but grunts and other horrific sounds, I felt as if it just kept you guessing about what was to ultimately come towards the end. Something that I forgot about being so underrated was Martyrs' makeup. The two gentlemen in charge produced some top notch material, with each of our heroines (if you can even dub them as such) wearing the scars of a torturous past that is far from easy to forgive and forget. Morjana Alaoui's Anna does strike you as a somewhat innocent, but deeply flawed human being that is undeterred in her decisions to do what she does, no matter who it is for or who it is to. Lucie, played by the striking Mylene Jampanoi, just has that distinctive face and aura that is very difficult to replicate in any modern day horror picture. It is a crying shame that she doesn't seem to have any interest in taking any roles in American or Hollywood cinema, because I think that there exists a strong possibility of her breaking out in the same way that Marion Cotillard (Inception, The Dark Knight Rises) did. Mind you, the latter most likely never had to beat another woman to death for the sake of revenge, and if she did, then I've been clearly misinformed. Of course, the scenes of graphic violence and visuals are what will most likely draw cinephiles to Martyrs, but if you're expecting that sort of "campy" treatment that you'd get from Dead Alive or Return Of The Living Dead, then you are in for a very, VERY rude awakening. I'd liken some of these to segments to the drug use from Darren Aronofsky's Requiem For A Dream, since there is a chance you'll utter the words "well, I don't think I want to look at that again."
When it comes to particular pictures of yesteryear, I'm willing to admit when I'm wrong. Though I still do think that it is a tiny bit overrated, Martyrs is one of the pieces of cinematic terror that is sorely needed in this day and age (even if it is seven years old by the time of this review). There is a good chance that you may only be able to stomach one viewing of the film, and I can't deny that its pure sadism and unsettling third act will put off many a viewer. What can not be refuted is that whether you enjoy it or loathe it, Martyrs will stick with you long after the credits have finished, and sometimes, that could indeed be the sign of a truly unique piece of art. As described above, should you get lucky and stumble across a copy at an independent video or record store, Martyrs is sadly difficult to obtain for the average shopper. You can, however, stream it for $2.99 on Amazon Prime and purchase a Region 2 Blu-Ray for a decently cheap amount of money. There is also a remake from Blumhouse Productions that is fully wrapped up and ready for a theatrical release sometime in the near future. Personally, I'm perplexed as to not why, but how they would choose to reinvent this for American audiences, but perhaps when it drops, I'll be there to judge it for myself.
Tomorrow, we travel North to pay the Britains (who are the Britains?) a visit, but could potentially get lost in a time loop on the way there.
Dissatisfied wife Mya has been having an affair with Ben, a man who is far more relaxed than her own husband Lewis, who the former has been insisting that she split from. Though she entertains the idea, Mya can't seem to go through with it. After leaving her lover's flat one evening, Ben turns on his own television, only to witness a series of flashing lights and images that seem to entrance and mesmerize him. Elsewhere, Mya is questioned by her spouse about her whereabouts during the previous night, but as Lewis' friends attempt to fix the apartment's own television set, he repeatedly, angrily asks that she take a shower. While in the bathroom, the trio of men also find themselves staring at this unusual signal, loudly arguing about small things and Lewis' spouse. As Mya peeks out from behind the door, she catches a glimpse of Lewis reacting with rather violent, murderous intentions towards anybody and anything around him.
Last year, I had mentioned making a couple of brief trips to the graveyard that was once dubbed by my own ancestors as "Blockbuster Video." These journeys into what will most likely be the final video rental chain to ever exist produced some nice surprises, specifically The Midnight Meat Train, The Loved Ones, and Suck. Though there was a plan in the works that was originally going to consist of a miniature marathon titled "The Blockbuster Bunch," I think it's safe to say that such an idea will be sitting on the shelf for an undisclosed amount of time. Whatever the case, I can add one more treat to the bag, and in this case, it was ironically something I had to pass over during my time while working at DVD competitor Hollywood Video, but it was mostly due to copies being stolen. Our security locks for discs was not very good.
But christ on a crutch, I was still a little shocked that something this genuinely nerve-racking flew not just flew under the radar, but was also a homegrown product from the good ol' United States of America. Then again, Magnet Releasing are a rather under-appreciated company when it comes to putting out pictures that can shake you to your very core (I Saw The Devil anyone?). What helps make The Signal such an fascinating experience isn't the respectable distributor though. That, fellow readers and terror connoisseurs, is its own twisted, interconnected stories and guessing games that keeps you constantly questioning about what the hell is exactly going on and how something that is so easy to fall victim to can be avoided or cured (if at all).
Gratefully, you don't have to worry about this turning into something a bit too chaotic and ultra-precise like a later-day David Lynch film. Something that was unknown to me beforehand was that The Signal is actually comprised of three separate chapters, each revolving around three uniquely different people affected by the titular transmission who ultimately come together in some way, shape, or form. There's Anessa Ramsey's Mya, who may the closest thing to any single homo sapien with a rational and working mind, and considering all of the chaos that surrounds her, she never feels like a completely helpless heroine. Well, save for one moment in the third act, but that is forgivable given the context of the movie. Initially feeling like a brief third wheel with no purpose other than to just serve as an introductory plot device, Justin Welborn (Justified, The Final Destination) does turn in a solid job as her liaison lover, though it did take a rather lengthy amount of time for him to feel fleshed out or relatable. The real star of The Signal has to be one A.J. Bowen (The House Of The Devil, You're Next). He portrays Mya's husband Lewis, stealing the show (and lives) with every demented scene that he is featured in. He participates in some of the more heartless attacks that I've seen in a recent American horror film, with nods to flicks like Irreversible seen throughout his disturbing behavior. Perhaps my only complaint about his performance comes from a portion of the script, but there will be more on that down below.
Even though I suspected that The Signal would most likely be branded with an R-rating, I feel that I was still denied critical, need-to-know information. My dear friends, this little bit of news comes in the form of some shockingly bloody and ruthless bits of aggression that almost border on being downright cruel. There are people getting bashed in the head with blunt objects, sprayed in the eyes or throat with insecticide, and many more that I don't feel like spoiling out of the kindness of my heart. Perhaps what makes this that much more interesting is the decision that was made by the three writer/directors in charge to not try and quickly cut away, leaving a large portion of this maiming in plain view for the audience. Call me a sadist, but I can dig the testicular fortitude of anyone willing to take that chance on a motion picture that falls under the category of modern day horror, which some accuse of being too soft. But for all of the greatness that I've been spewing forth about the acting and bloodshed, there is one, egregious error that The Signal makes which prevents me from dubbing it as a truly fantastic film: its second act. Swerving from one territory to another is certainly something that is common practice among writers (it's one of the reasons why I dig Robert Rodriguez's From Dusk Til Dawn), but there is no proper set up or transition for this series of scenes. It's the equivalent of the second half of Stanley Kubrick's vietnam epic Full Metal Jacket, which while dealing with actual combat and the horrors of war, just pales in comparison the quotable, aggressive training camp sequences. In the case of The Signal, going from a hard, relatively dark thirty minutes into moments of black comedy nearly makes the picture trip over its own two feet.
With all of that out of the way, there is still the uncanny resemblances to various works such as Stephen King's Cell (released one year prior to this effort) and George Romero's The Crazies that I'm sure even non-viewers will notice (2008's Pontypool also bears a familiar story, though is possibly more complex). Mercifully, I don't see these similarities bothering anyone save for the most irksome and ones who need to nitpick every little thing. Besides, considering that most of the pictures that I've praised immensely so far were expected to be pleasant to begin with, I believe that The Signal is a very strong contender for the "most underrated" category of this year's iteration of Unseen Terror. It mostly delivers on the disturbing end of things, packs a wallop of a third act, and even drags into the land of insanity from time to time. Though you most likely won't be able to score it on DVD or Blu-Ray for the same amount of money that I paid for it, you can still stream it for no extra charge on Amazon Prime, and can purchase it for a rather small amount of money from your everyday website that deals in electronics.
On a somewhat related note, I'm just going to admittedly state that I don't believe that the "mumblecore" genre is necessarily a real thing. I just think that tougher critics who deride the lower production values and amateurish casting of newer horror pictures felt the need to inflate their "pass on the present, praise the past" attitudes, which can honestly, and truthfully, go fuck itself. Can we just call these type of movies by what they are? Which is, you know, HORROR MOVIES? Yeesh, and I thought metal fans were picky with their categorizations.
Tomorrow, I take a trip overseas to France, and tackle a sadistic movie that I once dismissed as being rather overrated and boring. But was the pre-bearded Ryan wrong?
Searching for a potential roommate, college standout and all-around nerd Alistair McDowell believes that he finally has the offer and situation that he has been looking for. For a mere forty dollars a month, he finds refuge with several young men, but is quite surprised when he discovers that his new companions partake in smoking cannabis on a fairly frequent basis. Though he won't join in on the activity himself, he is present to their curiosity being piqued by a placed ad that advertises the sale of a rather large bong, which the previous owner claims is possessed. Far from deterred, Alistair's bedfellows receive the accessory in the mail, but after watching them take several hits, the geeky student begins to notice several things about this new purchase. For starters, it steals the souls of all who inhale from it. Even stranger, its base seems to change with every new victim being claimed.
I'm not going to lie here folks. When it comes to assembling this yearly marathon, I always run into the occasional roadblock. In this case, when I had to choose a different movie for every year that represented a full 365 days of being alive, 2006 was pure hell for me. Yes, I'm aware that we had awesome flicks like Behind The Mask: The Rise Of Leslie Vernon, Slither, The Host, and Fido. And yet, for every four films that turned out to be pretty rad, we had a swarm of releases that ranged from relatively average (Silent Hill, Final Destination 3) to wholly abysmal (The Omen, The Wicker Man). So what in the hell made me choose Full Moon Features' newest attempt at creating yet another franchise for the easily amused, the bluntly (ugh) titled Evil Bong?
Because I had already seen the titles listed above you clouds of fuck dust, that's why. You're all so silly.
Let us move on to the goods itself, yes? For starters, Evil Bong's acting is....well....acting I suppose. I would imagine that most of the cast knows that by putting flicks like this on their resumes, it most likely relegates them to the land of schlock cinema, but if I had the opportunity to partake in any Full Moon production myself, I'd probably take it in a heartbeat. David Weidoff (ABC Family's Roommates) makes for a pretty good straight-laced protagonist, although his uncanny resemblance to internet celebrity James Rolfe, a.k.a. The Angry Video Game Nerd, makes the experience that much more bizarre. The only real familiar faces that show up in Evil Bong are Tommy Chong (Up In Smoke, That '70s Show) and horror icon Bill Mosley (The Devil's Rejects, Carnivale), though the latter's role feels more akin to a cameo that one does during a day off from shooting something of a larger scale. What doesn't feel like a glorified brief appearance, however, is a merry gang of creations of Charles Band and his friends showing up in the bong's paradise, where beings like The Gingerdead Man (from the series of the same name), Jack Deth (Trancers), and Jack Attack (Demonic Toys) seem to be basking in the warmth of the greatest strip club on earth. I can't quite grasp the fact that there's a shared universe from the same company that released the Puppet Master franchise, and that it actually predates the widely popular Marvel Cinematic Universe. If you're still with me after those two sentences, thank you.
In terms of what helps Evil Bong keep its glorified B-movie tag (other than the blatant title), that comes down to a handful of tired and true wonders. There is an ample amount of nudity, though some of it does get repetitive when you see our stoner heroes enter the same dreamlike area repeatedly. A lot of the pot humor does tend to range in terms of writing, but I was shocked (and a wee bit disappointed) by how many chuckles I did manage to elicit during the eighty minute running time. Sadly, the film does begin to lull a bit towards the middle, and as fun as the part of one character's sleazy, dickhead grandfather is, it felt like a somewhat cheap attempt at ensuring that the viewers (who will no doubt be high themselves) don't tune in and out. Regardless, it sure beats a lot of other stoner-comedies that were being exhaled by studios from around that time period, and I'd rather sit through Evil Bong again than a dud like Strange Wilderness. In terms of stoner-horror-comedies though, the only ones I can think of that counts as competition is the previously-reviewedIdle Hands, though comparing a theatrical release with a budget of twenty five million dollars to a Full Moon Features production is like comparing a Duclaw Porter to a case of Miller High Life.
If you're expecting genuine scares and something that will change the game, then you're clearly forgetting that you're watching a movie called Evil Bong. It's a gigantic pile of idiocy that does a swell job at disguising itself as a motion picture, but god bless the thing for clearly not giving a damn about this fact. For some of the flack that I have given Full Moon head Charles Band, he does share a lot in common with another B-movie giant in the realm of horror. That person would be Mr. Lloyd Kaufman, co-founder of Troma Entertainment and purveyor of all things camp. Both men are fully aware that the quality of pictures that they put out are never going to be up for any major award, but they honestly love their dedicated fanbase and give them exactly what they demand on a daily basis. In the case of Evil Bong, it's pure cheese and it revels in it. If you believe that you can enjoy the smell of this particular brand of smoke, Evil Bong is available to rent on Time Warner Cable's On-Demand service for $2.99 (though be wary of bad connections with your cable box), and can be purchased through Full Moon's own website for $6.66.
To quote Canadian professional wrestler Lance Storm, tomorrow we're going to get serious for a minute. Besides, transitioning from a movie about a cursed smoking device into a movie about transmissions that drive people made is pretty logical, right?
Driving home after visiting her boyfriend, crew member Ellie Myers picks up her younger brother Jimmy from high school. While heading down a highway in Los Angeles, California, the two accidentally hit another car, and oddly enough, a large, unseen animal. They are shocked to discover that the passenger of the other vehicle is still alive, but before they can rescue the young woman, she is dragged out of her driver's seat by a creature that they only catch a glimpse of. In the ensuing chaos, Ellie and Jimmy are cut by the beast's claws, but the police and EMTs arrive too late to save the other motorist, who has been torn to shreds. Though the two relatives are spooked, everything still seems to be normal. However, when Ellie and Jimmy begin to act rather peculiar, the latter digs around and contemplates the fact that they may now bare the mark of a beast; one which transforms at the sight of a full moon and is driven to kill.
You know, Cursed isn't THAT bad of a movie.
Wait, before you scoff at me for being too soft, let me explain.
If you were to look for a more appropriately-titled flick for something such as this marathon that I do every year, one of your first and easiest picks would be the late Wes Craven's only foray into the werewolf genre. As for why this was his lone attempt at making a movie about lycanthropy? Well, that can be attributed to an unusually large amount of what can only be described as "frequent studio interference." Or, to quote another film distributed by the same company as Cursed, "Fucking Miramax." The original script for this picture, which was conceived back in the year 2000, had some similarities to the final results seen here, but with a lot of notable changes in the cast and backgrounds to their characters. For starters, there was no sibling angle, as there were three random strangers who were brought together as the result of a random werewolf attack, and a possible love triangle would build throughout its first and middle acts. No, several executives thought that this just wasn't marketable enough. How about just making Christina Ricci (The Addams Family) and Jesse Eisenberg (The Social Network) into orphans with no chemistry and erasing the third character altogether (who was originally supposed to be Skeet Ulrich of Scream fame)?
But it didn't stop there. For nearly two years, a substantial number of alterations were made to Cursed while it was still being recorded by Craven and his crew. Several cast members' parts and/or scenes were erased due to time restraints and scheduling conflicts. These included A Walk To Remember's Mandy Moore (who was replaced by R&B singer Mya), Heather Langenkamp (A Nightmare On Elm Street), Omar Epps (House), and a good handful of other recognizable actors and actresses. Hell, Christina Ricci's character works for former Late Late Show host Craig Kilborn, and by the time of Cursed's theatrical release, her "boss" no longer worked at CBS! Oh, and at least half of the script was rewritten, meaning that much of the film itself had to be re-shot, delaying its release until god knows when. So with all of that tomfoolery that took place behind the scenes, it almost seemed destined to fail, especially when it finally dropped during the first two months of the new year, which is what most would call "dump time" for motion pictures.
And yet, this guy has seen far worse flicks than Cursed, especially considering that I was nervous after hearing of all the critical shellacking that it has received over the years. I won't name a particular person in question, but one critic for a popular website went on to say something akin to "this is the worst werewolf movie ever." Excuse me, but we live in a world where there are EIGHT sequels to The Howling, An American Werewolf In Paris, and VAN FUCKING HELSING. I may have to respectfully disagree with you there. I wonder if he would still stand by that sentence after sitting through the Twilight series? Anyways, I'm getting off topic.
I'm sure that Miramax heads Bob and Harvey Weinstein wanted to present Cursed as the lycanthrope equivalent to writer Kevin Williamson's previously successful series of screenplays that ended up becoming the Scream saga. Unfortunately, the script provided for the final cut lacks the clever meta jokes and wicked sense of humor that was found in those pictures, and whether every single one of these was Williamson's choice or not, the primary odor you smell belongs to him. Noticeably, it falls into the tropes and cliches that riddled his previous projects, including an updated version of his "Barrymore kill" and red herring scenarios that are direct ripoffs of the aforementioned series of films. On the plus side, co-star Eisenberg and some of the supporting cast like Judy Greer (who will always be cast as either a mom or a bitch) do produce a small measure of chuckles here and there. Christina Ricci is written to resemble a mostly straight-laced protagonist, but unlike her slumbering on-screen boyfriend Joshua Jackson (Dawson's Creek), she can actually feign being interested in this experience. So cast-wise, everything turns out slightly better than expected. But behind the camera? Well, that's a different story. Most of Cursed's problems and downfalls come from the realm of post-production, and considering that I watched only the theatrical cut, thereby missing out on so much of its intended blood and gore, oh boy is it bad. There is extremely bad editing that is prominent within the first ten minutes of its running time (though I'm willing to bet that it was due to Miramax's demand to make a PG-13 product out of a very graphic R-rated one), shaky camera techniques that prevent the audience from seeing anything fascinating that comes about from the antagonist's kills, and some of the absolute worst CGI that you'll see from the previous decade. Considering how high the bar had been set by masters of makeup such as Rob Bottin (The Howling) and Rick Baker (An American Werewolf In London), you would think that trying to equal or possibly usurp them would make for a fun challenge. You would be dead wrong. It's a cheap route that produces absolutely no genuine scares from beginning to end, though I suppose that getting to see a cheap-looking computer-generated monster give policemen the middle finger is some sort of compensation.
For all of the hell that Cursed went through during and after production, it's a god damn miracle that it turns out to be fairly watchable. Of course, it's still a deeply flawed movie with problems and continuity goofs that are painfully obvious to anyone with a keen eye, but I still don't think that it makes for a bad time (and most certainly not one that's offensive either). If you've got nothing important to do, or just need an excuse to watch every single movie involving these mythical beasts, it's available to watch on Netflix Instant Streaming and Amazon Prime. You can also buy it (though I wouldn't recommend that) on DVD or Blu-Ray for roughly the same cost as a Flaming Amy's burrito.
And besides, if you come back to me saying that you'd rather watch something like They or Pinocchio's Revenge over this...
Tomorrow, we dive right into what I'd arguably call one of the rougher years for cinematic releases in the territory of horror, and my choice of what to watch should be verifiable proof of it...
In 1916, a series of strange attacks terrorized the residents of Northern New Jersey's shores. The culprit of these incidents was believed to be a rather large shark, though there are some in charge who are hesitant to take action, believing that it could greatly affect business from tourists. Over the course of twelve days, more incidents pop up, and more lives are lost. Fed up, a small band of locals decide that the time to take action is eminent, and their hunt for the aquatic predator(s) begins.
I will make this short and sweet: despite the source material serving as an inspiration for Peter Benchley's widely popular and influential novel that damn near everybody on the planet has heard of, this is a factually inaccurate, forgettable made-for-tv diarrhea sandwich that features soap opera-levels of bad acting, computer generated sharks, irritating narratives that feel like dialogue lifted from M. Night Shyamalan's The Last Airbender, and far too many waspy caucasians for a single viewer to relate to. Christ, not even the supporting role from John Rhys-Davies (The Lord Of The Rings, Raiders Of The Lost Ark) can save 12 Days Of Terror. Mind you, he acts as the prototypical nice older fisherman before transitioning into a role that can only be described as Quint from Jaws, but if he had nothing interesting to his personality. I can't entirely blame him for trying to work with what little amount of time that he's on screen though. At this point in his career, I'm certain that he's the Welsh equivalent of Eric Roberts, meaning that as long as you ask him politely, he'll appear in your motion picture. Wait, who the hell cares?! Do not watch this crap. Do not buy this crap. Even for a B movie that initially premiered on Animal Planet (you didn't misread that), it's boring and awful. Let's just move on to day 21, shall we?
Hmm, what am I watching again?
*checks list*
Oh, a Wes Craven movie. And it's a Wes Craven flick about werewolves! This could be enterta-wait....shit....
Serving as a psychiatrist in a mental hospital, Dr. Miranda Grey has been perplexed by her one of her patient's erratic and psychotic fits, screaming that she has been raped several times while confined behind the walls. Miranda tries her best to not let it bother her, as the comfort of her husband Douglas always seems to help with keeping her grounded. While driving home during a rather stormy evening, the good doctor nearly hits a girl standing in the middle of the road. She offers to call the police or emergency rescue for this stranger, but the woman grabs Dr. Grey and yells wildly, causing her to suddenly and seemingly pass out. After regaining consciousness, Miranda discovers that she is sitting inside of a cell at her own place of employment, having been accused of murdering her own beloved partner.
I should thank my stars and garters that actress Halle Berry doesn't partake in social media. Why you may ask? Because I feel that before I dive into my review for 2003's Gothika, I should discuss her filmography prior to this flick's release. Throughout most of her tenure, the future Ororo Munroe had what could be considered a questionable resume at best, with critical opinions seemingly all over the map. Then, she starred in 1998's political comedy Bulworth, which reminded audiences that she can act rather well when the script is solid and she is surrounded by equally strong performers. For the next four and a half years, Berry followed that up with several big hits such as Swordfish, a big screen iteration of Marvel's X-Men, James Bond entry Die Another Day, and even won herself an Academy Award for the powerful Monster's Ball. After a nice turn in X2: X-Men United, something catastrophic happened. That particular event was 2004's dreadful Catwoman, which will go down as a comic book adaptation that is so atrocious, it will make you want to revisit that OTHER dud from this year and remind yourself that
Soon, the string of hit or miss pictures came tumbling in once more with X-Men: The Last Stand, Robots, and Perfect Stranger being notable, if not unimpressive standouts. If you ask me though, I think that we can trace the real beginning of this stream of strange choices to Mathieu Kassovitz's supernatural horror film Gothika, which still stands as the top grossing picture to be affiliated with production company Dark Castle Entertainment. Don't recognize that name? Well, they were formed by Hollywood notables Robert Zemeckis (Back To The Future, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Forrest Gump), Joel Silver (Predator, Die Hard), and Gilbert Adler (Bordello Of Blood, Demon Knight) as a tribute to 50s and 60s horror icon William Castle. Originally, the plans were going to revolve around remaking the director's most influential works, but the trio only got away with accomplishing this three times (House Of Max, Thir13en Ghosts, House On Haunted Hill) before settling into picking up original concepts instead. Ideas like the preachy mess known as The Reaping. And I'm sorry that I had to bring up those aforementioned movies when you were probably still drinking so that you could ignore their existence.
With all of that being said, I'm going to come to Berry's defense here. Most of what makes Gothika such an insufferable bore has nothing to do with its lead actress. She does her best to act surprised and scared when she's initially thrown into the asylum (which seems to resemble a prison more than a mental institution), though she could learn to scream a tad less. It borders dangerously close to Laura Regan-levels of annoyance, but at least I didn't find myself wanting to fall asleep like I did with They. Heck, even her main supporting cast like Penelope Cruz (Vanilla Sky) and Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man, Tropic Thunder), for what importance they may possibly serve, are at least attempting to act with straight faces. No, what kills Gothika is that its script is utter, cliched crap, filled with way too many instances of scenes that feature exchanges of dialogue lifted from straight-to-video flicks. Perhaps that isn't too shocking when you see that screenwriter Sebastian Gutierrez's other works include Rise: Blood Hunter, She Creature, and the notorious Snakes On A Plane. If you have anything resembling a functioning brain, your first pondering hunch that relates to a plot point is most likely going to end up being true. I lost count with how many times I saw something coming from a mile away, including its main twist and final sequence. Speaking of that, the most terrifying aspect of Gothika comes from having to listen to Limp Bizkit's cover of The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes" that plays over the end credits. Thank god rap-rock and nu metal are mostly dead. Well, unless you're stuck in the hardcore punk scene, where it seems to have made an ironic comeback.
Given that I was originally going to type a mere sentence akin to "this movie is bad and you should feel bad," I think that I've talked about this motion picture more than any human being in this decade should have ever done. If you're a newcomer to this beloved genre, then there may be some slight, easy enjoyment to be had with Gothika. If you're relatively experienced or have actually partaken in viewing films released prior to the previous two decades, or if you can't stomach awful editing and lighting that makes Aliens Vs Predator: Requiem seem like a 3D Disney movie, I see no reason for you to waste your time on this annoying, predictable dreck. At the time of this review, Halle Berry's first foray into horror is available to purchase on DVD and Blu-Ray, and can be rented for $2.99 on Amazon Prime and Youtube.
Tomorrow, it's shark time motherfuckers! Unfortunately, the time for Open Water has passed, but perhaps I can look even further into the past for a good time...
