Unseen Terror 2017: Day 29

It's 1957, and cocky, promiscuous Mary Lou Mahoney is setting out to have a blast at her high school prom. Unfortunately, a series of freakish events result in the woman burning to death that very evening at the event. Thirty years later, the young Vicki Carpenter is searching for a dress to wear to her own prom and comes across a trunk that contains all of the departed Mary Lou's accessories and belongings. After opening the container, she unknowingly unleashes the vengeful spirit of the would-be queen of the dance, who returns to seek revenge for her untimely demise, and if possible, find a new permanent host for her essence.



As you may recall, this year's Unseen Terror marathon kicked off with my first time viewing of 1980's proto-slasher Prom Night. I found that even with some fairly obvious flaws, the flick was lively in all the right areas, and ultimately worth a recommendation. As with many franchises that have made appearances on this blog over the span of seven years (Hellraiser comes to mind), the temptation to check out all three follow-ups and its unwanted remake was high, but not vital. Alas, I did hear some good feedback from people on social media about how Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II was actually worth a watch. Thanks to various websites/services still refusing to cooperate with me, original choices Inseminoid and Breeders were thrown back into the pile once more. Room must be made for a motion picture that features a spectacled Michael Ironside accidentally murdering someone with a stink bomb.


From the get-go, the tone of Hello Mary Lou feels drastically different than its predecessor. Supernatural and psychological horror elements permeate throughout its crisp running time, which wasn't present in director Paul Lynch's slow burn. It may not come as a surprise to hear that independent film company Samuel Goldwyn got a hold of something that was not related to Prom Night whatsoever and suggested that it be tweaked and marketed as a continuation of the motion picture that came out seven years earlier. New film head Bruce Pittman doesn't seem to believe in patiently building to a big bang of a climax (though its own third act is quite wonderful), but rather to score home runs as soon as possible. This can be a disappointment when you factor in how calm the first Prom Night was during its first hour, and it felt as though the new studio heads wanted this sequel to follow traditional "modern" slasher guidelines. Still, there are a great number of franchise entries that share only the most basic of similarities with the movies that preceded them (Aliens comes to mind). And sometimes you just want to watch a body count pile up over time.


Speaking of that, the first victim, who resembles a more "80s"-fied version of Angela Kinkade in the first Night of the Demons, is the recipient of a death that hints of extravagance, but teases the audience with something that unfortunately doesn't occur. Perhaps watching that 4K restoration of Suspiria yesterday was a bad idea since it spoiled me on the visual aspect of lives being ended. Regardless, the kills in Hello Mary Lou have more impact considering that its cast of characters are far more likeable this time around. During the first Prom Night, nearly every single soul was a different shade of unsympathetic asshole, and it just made you a bit impatient since all you wanted was to see them die as horrible a death as possible. Lead actress Wendy Lyon (Anne of Green Gables) adds a very innocent, personable quality to Vicki, and you're just fascinated by her constant visions. She's a very underrated performer in the "scream queen" field, and has the aura of a young Daryl Hannah. Without going too much into spoiler territory, Lyon's protagonist does a complete 180 towards the end of Hello Mary Lou's second act, becoming completely unhinged and reveling in devilish behavior.


If you can ignore the fact that Hello Mary Lou's full title features the words "Prom Night" on the marquee and home video releases, you actually have an engaging, if not somewhat standard slasher picture at your disposal. The pacing is good enough that you never feel bored, the acting is fairly solid, and the whole shebang is just plain fun. I'd even go so far as to say that I personally enjoyed it more than the Jamie Lee Curtis-led vehicle that was released around the end of the disco era (side note: why didn't you do an updated version of the Prom Night theme?!). As of this writing, the first sequel is available for streaming over on Amazon Prime, and if you're feeling ambitious enough, it can be purchased for either paltry or absurd amounts of cash. I have to offer some advice on the former DVD though: it contains the infamously bad Full Moon Entertainment release known as Killjoy.



.....wait a minute, have I even seen that particular one? Ugh, might have to do some rearranging.....again.




Tomorrow, we're closer to the end, and hopefully we are NOT concluding with Killjoy.

Unseen Terror 2016: Day 7

After discovering a container of old, expired wine hidden away in his basement, a liquor store owner figures that there is still a chance that he can rid himself of the unwanted drinks. This method involves selling them for dirt cheap to the demented homeless people who frequent his establishment. There just seems to be one problem with this idea: once it is consumed, the drinker's body begins to violently react and lash out at itself. Unaware of its effects, the shopkeeper continues to sell what is effectively known as "Tenafly Viper," even as the body count caused by it begins to grow larger and larger. Eventually, the news of bums being found in melted, unrecognizable messes attracts the attention of a curious police officer, with the residents of the local junkyard also partaking in the purchasing of and investigation surrounding the hazardous liquid.

Okay....if you don't mind, I'm gonna need a minute or two to take a deep breath.

*inhale*

*exhale*

WHAT IN THE LIVING HELL DID I JUST WATCH?!


Going in to Street Trash, the only prior knowledge that I had of it came from an infamous scene involving an older man and the facilities that has been immortalized on t-shirts, posters, and oddball memorabilia around the horror community. It had all the traits and characteristics of a Troma Entertainment (The Toxic Avenger) release without actually being distributed by the company. Yes, the film company that put out fairly reprehensible motion pictures such as Blood Sucking Freaks had nothing to do with this one. Shit, all one has to do is just type the title of the movie into any search engine of your choice to see exactly what scene I'm referring to in the first sentence of my written thoughts. After sitting through the theatrical cut, which is sleazier than watching a pair of rednecks hit on their sister while she's dancing at a strip club, I can be thankful that movies such as Street Trash aren't really being made anymore in this day and age.


I am well aware that writer/producer Roy Frumkes (you have no idea how much I want to pronounce that as "Frunkis") set out to purposely concoct a screenplay that would offend every single type of person out there, and you can't certainly fault the man for trying, and in some cases, succeeding. The plot is not terribly important in the end, as outside of perhaps the two younger hobo siblings (one of whom appears to be a doppelganger for a character from another cult classic), you aren't particularly interested in these characters or any aspects of their daily lives. I would quite impressed if even the most devout of Street Trash fans can remember any of their names without referring to them as something along the lines of "trash heap bully" or "homeless black shoplifter." Given that most of their free time is spent partaking in so many wonderful activities such as raping, stealing, murdering, or a combination of all three, it only makes sense that we are just anxiously waiting to see these assholes drink the deadly beverage, and then begin to melt down or explode into a collection of rainbow-colored innards, limbs, and goop.


Oddly enough, the use of those aforementioned colors makes it seem that much more macabre. Were Street Trash shot with an overuse of red rather than say, green or blue, there is a very good chance that the flick could have never seen any proper release outside of the realm of home video. The shockingly graphic decaying of the hobos' figures is littered with an overuse of brighter colors, somewhat leaving it up to your imagination to figure out what in the hell is happening to their bodies. Well, other than, y'know, dying. Perhaps they are just a product of their environment though. The dilapidated and run down version of New York City that routinely pops up makes the dark and dreary one seen in Jacob's Ladder look tame and livable by comparison. Several small subplots involving some of the non-drifter types that live in the Big Apple do their damnedest to help distract you from any lulls that may be found, though with mixed results and a bit too much forced molesting for my own taste.


Wait, back up. Did I just compare a movie that features a game of football based around genital mutilation to another that is ripe with hidden, deceptively pretty symbolism? Oof, I need to see a shrink. Or take a bath. Or both.


There really are no other words or sentences that I can use to justify or describe the insanity of Street Trash. In fact, you should just go see the damn thing, even if you end up coming out feeling unclean and repulsed by it. The argument can be made that it resembles more of an experience rather than a cohesive motion picture, and while I do believe that it is FAR from a perfect movie, it is assuredly one of the most chaotic, mortifying, and darkly humorous "body horror" pictures that I have seen to date ever since I began this yearly marathon back in 2010. The DVD and Blu-Ray versions of the film are rather easy to obtain (can't say the same for its VHS, which may be the best way that you should watch it), and for the time being, you can also watch a surprisingly great-looking print on YouTube.



Also, if none of this catches your attention, or you just can not be convinced to sit through such an unexpectedly colorful, yet fucked up piece of cinematic weirdness such as this, let me at least show you what I was repeatedly mentioning in the first paragraph of this review. If I can channel my inner Joker, this constitutes as the ultimate excuse for "toilet humor." Why, you may end up putting down the bottle for good just as soon as I did!

........yep, definitely scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist.




Tomorrow, it's time to bring home the bacon! However, I sincerely doubt that this brand will so easy to find if you visit the store. Perhaps, if we visit the laboratory, we could have better luck...

Unseen Terror 2015: Day 3

Young, curious, and obsessed with horror movies, middle school student Sean heads a club that he has dubbed "The Monster Squad," wherein he and likeminded friends come together in a treehouse to gush over and talk about their love for the more macabre side of cinema. When Sean's mother gives him an old book one day as a gift, he is initially ecstatic, but discovers that the work is written in German. Once it has been translated by a mysterious neighbor, the crew discover that the book harbors tales of a fight between the forces of good and evil that has spanned centuries. Even stranger, it seems that during this year, evil may be resurfacing in the form of very eerie, familiar faces.



Several years ago, I was lucky enough to watch The Gate for the very first time (here's where I insert my review for it). It made me realize that perhaps my childhood, though admittedly filled with some fantastic little ditties that I still love to this day, could have been even better had I been exposed to certain horror films. No, I'm not talking about the classic Universal Pictures from the 1930s and 1940s (that's a given for pretty much anybody with the capability of breathing), but more along the lines of horror films that are made by those who want to clearly expose younger audiences to the same loves that they grew up with, while still making sure that it wouldn't be too "extreme" for them to be terrified of or for their parents to become enraged when they find them watching it by themselves without supervision. If I can be so crude as to use food comparisons, if The Gate was a trip to Outback Steakhouse, The Monster Squad is a full-fledged, paid vacation to Australia itself. Minus the possibility of being attacked by venomous creatures of course.


Noted director and fan favorite Fred Dekker has already made an appearance on Unseen Terror with the quite fun House (insert yet ANOTHER review), and his work on the very underrated Night Of The Creeps deserves more and more praise every time that I've mentioned it here on this site. In what can only be ascribed to sheer luck and magic, he's paired with writer and occasional director Shane Black, whose credits include Predator, Lethal Weapon, and Iron Man 3 among many others. The two have a remarkably good understanding of one another's style, mixing in just the right amount of humor without it coming across as obnoxious, while not forsaking on making Squad's characters relatable or even slightly realistic (we all knew at least one person in this film at some point in our lives). The duo's final effort definitely has an appeal to a younger audience, but there is a lot that wouldn't fly by today's standards of what we normally call a "kid's movie." There's people combustion/gore, the occasional curse word that rhymes with "mitt," and a few other nitpicks that most likely won't bother anyone such as yourselves, but it still might warrant a mild warning for those of you with very young children.


Thankfully, every single person should find a lot to enjoy about the antagonists of the The Monster Squad. Though the quality of the creatures' costumes are, to put it nicely, fairly mediocre (minus the Gillman, portrayed by Amalgamated Dynamics head Tom Woodruff Jr.), that adds to its overall charm, showing the obvious love of nostalgia from Dekker, Black, and their crew. Ugh, that ending rap song is another story though, as it is dreadfully dated and could make the Fresh Prince or The Fat Boys seem ruthless during a rap battle. Tom Noonan (Manhunter, The House Of The Devil) plays a pretty god damn good Frankenstein's monster, even if it is meant more for comedic or sappy moments than for horrific ones (it certainly beats the awful ones in recent years from garbage like Van Helsing or I, Frankenstein). Duncan Regehr's Count Dracula is fun enough to make you forget that he was in a movie like Blood Surf (which I will NOT insert a review link for).


Damn damn damn. If I had been writing this before I reached my teens, I....probably wouldn't be doing this actually. I'd probably have been playing Final Fantasy VII or wondering why Funcoland were so notoriously cheap when it came to trade-ins. Still, now that I'm almost thirty, I AM writing about my first exposure to The Monster Squad. and I am so happy that I finally watched it. Considering that this month will also see the release of a motion picture based on author R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series of books, I see this as a wonderful precursor to that flick and a great way for your kids to get into something with a bit more of an edge, but without treating them idiots. If you're so inclined, The Monster Squad is currently available to watch on Netflix Instant Streaming, and is readily available for purchase on DVD and Blu-Ray from various assorted retailers.



Tomorrow, I have to remember that in 1988, not only was Treat Williams a thing, but so was Joe Piscopo. And that they interacted with zombies. Oh my goodness...

Unseen Terror 2014: Day 29 & Day 30

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 as Sam 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.

Unseen Terror 2013: Day 5

As younger children, Michael and George Tutman are "approached" by their uncle Anwar, who gives them pendants in connection with an ancient deity named "Sheetar." Not long afterwards, Anwar is murdered by the police. Years later, the Tutmans have taken up the task of murdering young women (and incorporating parts of them into their special dishes of the restaurant they run) in order to please what is left of their dearly departed uncle, and in hopes of one day resurrecting Sheetar herself.


I was completely unaware that Blood Diner was a sequel to Blood Feast, a movie that was released twenty-four years prior to this picture's own release in 1987. Does this matter? Not in the slightest, as this B-movie schlockfest makes little-to-mention of its original predecessor throughout its surprisingly short running time, and could easily stand on its own as evidenced by the cult following and memorabilia it has garnered over the years.


Blood Diner's two antagonists/main characters look lifted out of the video game Double Dragon, and their acting comes from the live-action version of the same name. Come to think of it, nobody is good here. But this picture doesn't care about giving you good performances, it wants you to be entertained. And you do have a surprising great amount of fun for the first thirty or forty minutes, especially in the hilariously campy opening (Blood Diner's own disclaimer is probably better than the movie itself). It wouldn't shock me to find out if John Waters had a bootleg of this movie sitting somewhere on his shelf. But (and there's the but), the film's a roller coaster in terms of merriment: one moment, you're frolicking in its sheer ludicrousness, the next, you're wishing it would get back to what kept you laughing so much.


There's also an attempt to humanize Michael, the more vocal and human of the brothers, by giving him a "love interest," but it feels underdeveloped and never really goes anywhere. The two detectives on the case of the brothers are also so incredibly boring that I forgot to write down any notes about them other than "one looks like Janet Jackson." Another odd note: I'm not sure if the weird obsession with 50s/60s-era professional wrestling seen throughout is meant to be a positive or a negative, but the scene of one brother wrestling a nazi character, (who is garnished with a swastika and a Hitler mustache. That certainly wouldn't fly today) didn't really help clear things up. Said brother also gets the crap beat out of him by a would-be victim at the beach, which is admittedly amusing. Unfortunately, nothing really develops between the brothers, be it positive or negative, so that's a bit of a disappointment. Their disembodied uncle, who remains as a brain in a mason jar, commands them like a Power Rangers villain more than anything else, and spouts lines like he was Razor Ramon at one point. And yes, that's two Power Rangers references I've made within the span of a week. I'm ashamed of myself.


If you can't take everything with a grain of salt in a picture like this, you're likely to loathe Blood Diner. The final twenty minutes is one of the strangest conclusions I've seen to a film, be it horror or not, since I reviewed The Devils two years ago, with a pompadour-led band leader commanding a backup band dressed like Adolf Hitlers, everyone seemingly trying to eat one another, and a naked woman's stomach opening up trying to swallow people's heads. And oh how I wished I was making that up. Beers and pizza might help you get through this one.



Tomorrow, I'm still hungry, so I decide a need a filling of THE STUFF!