Entries Tagged 'dallas' ↓

As you may know by now, each week's Chilling Classic is chosen by a random number generator, lest I forever flip back and forth through all 12 discs trying to figure out which movie I'm in the mood for. It's best to put my faith, as always, into RNGesus's hands. And so it was Mill Creek's will that I sat down with Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter (1966), which is really the only way I ever would have sat down with it. The title alone screams "not my bag," and I will admit to a heavy sigh as I pressed play. It was a "lie back and think of England Chilling Classics Cthursday" scenario! Now, on the other side of having done my duty (or at least half of my duty: I still have a lot of post to write), I can say with a bold confidence that I have, in fact, seen Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter.

As is the case with the seminal 1985 film The Nail Gun Massacre, the title Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter tells you all you need to know. Famous outlaw Jesse James does indeed meet Frankenstein's daughter! Truth in advertising. A blessing in this chatbot-riddled world, amirite? Love it.

Dr. Maria Frankenstein  (Narda Onyx) and her assistant Rudolph have immigrated to the American southwest from Vienna. The desert lightning storms are great for their evil experiments, experiments that began attracting the attention of authorities in Europe. Now, tucked far away in a matte painting an abandoned mission, they prey on the local Mexican population; When young men die in the lab, they quickly dispose of the bodies, telling grieving families that it had to be done for fear of spreading a contagious disease.

Maria is a mad scientist who takes after her grandfather Victor, wanting to create a living automaton that will do her bidding. She makes it clear that her father was a wuss who--much like Rudolph--didn't have the stomach to do what it takes to get this unethical shit done. So she keeps bringing up her grandfather, which might make you wonder for a second why they didn't call this Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Granddaughter. But that's a more awkward title, no? Maybe someday future nerds will argue over this in some even lame-er parallel to the "it's actually Frankenstein's monster" arguments. Yes, she is still a Frankenstein's daughter, but that Frankenstein isn't the Frankenstein you're thinking of. The point is...WHO CARES, I guess. Especially when we have more important things to talk about, like the way her lab coat is more of an overcoat!

Meanwhile, Jesse James and his "friend" (I put those quotes there to fuel your imagination), the hulking lummox Hank, decide to rob a stagecoach with Butch Cassidy Curry and the Wild Bunch. But Curry's brother rats out the gang to the Marshall, who is played by STOP THE PRESSES none other than Jim Davis--no, not the inventor of Garfield Jim Davis. (Although how cool would that be?) I'm talking about the Jim Davis who portrayed none other than Jock Ewing on a little something called television's Dallas! Reader, I fell out of my chair, puked in my pants with excitement, and started spinning around in a circle going WOOB WOOB WOOB like whichever Three Stooge does that. I will never doubt the powers of the almighty RNGesus ever again!

Thanks to the ol' double cross, there's a shootout during the stagecoach robbery, and Hank takes a bullet for Jesse, as friends do.

As they're wanted by the law, they can't go to just any old doctor. The pair stumble across the Lopez family, who have left town after their son died at the hands of Dr. Frankenstein. The daughter, Juanita, reluctantly directs Jesse and Hank to Castle Mission Frankenstein. On the way, they are attacked by a single "savage injun," complete with headband and buckskin outfit; Jesse saves Juanita, which means they are now in love. (Sorry, Hank.)

Maria is excited by Hank's physique, as unlike the "ignorant" and puny locals he is sufficiently strapping enough to handle the brain transplant. There are no racial implications to any of this at all!!!

At times, I'm pretty easy to please. Throw the words "TV movie", "1977", and "Lee Grant" into the same sentence and I know I'm gonna be in for a good time. I'll admit, though, I have no idea why the prospect of seeing Lee Grant makes me happy- she's always so damn cranky in every movie, but not in an Adrienne Barbeau delicious sort of way. Grant is just plain scowly and never particularly likable...maybe I like that? I don't know. Maybe she's the female J.R. Ewing for me- I love to hate her. It's very complicated, as you can tell.

Anyway, all those keywords I dig come together to bring me- and the world- The Spell, the tale of an "obese" teenager who strikes back at her tormentors with the mysterious powers of her mind.

Hey, maybe that's it! Maybe Lee Grant has mysterious mind powers, and compels me to watch her films.

The Spell opens during gym class, wear all the leotard-clad girls are picking on the oversized sweatsuit-clad Rita for being a "tubbo" (let's ignore the fact that Rita actually isn't particularly fat, shall we?). The teacher pairs up the girls for a little rope-climbing competition, and while Rita fails miserably at the task, her bitter arch-enemy Jackie has clearly enrolled in Advanced Cirque Du Soleil Theory...or, she moonlights at The Doll House or some such.

While Jackie spins and flips defies gravity and thinks she's so big, the camera repeatedly zooms in on Rita's face to the tune of several musical stings. When Jackie falls to the floor and lands in a broken heap, we can only infer that Rita has eerie mental powers.

Home life is just as much a drag for Rita as is school life. Her father also picks on her for being fat, perhaps as a way to overcome his insecurities regarding his obvious hair loss...or, perhaps, he's simply a dick. Mom Marilyn doesn't pick on Rita per se, but she's not very nice, either; then again, she's played by Lee Grant, so what do you expect? It's difficult to tell when she's not supposed to be a cooch. Rita's younger sister Chris (a little baby Helen Hunt) is pretty and popular though dim, but since looks are all that matter to this family she's the favored daughter. Sorry, Rita, it's tough being 15.

The fact that Rita is hounded by her father for being grossly overweight when she's not raises a question that pops up in my brain place, especially when friends of mine are expecting: what if you just...don't like your kid? What if you do your best to raise them right, and then they turn out to be racist, or homophobes, or Paul Reiser fans, or they hate everything you like, or they're just plain jerks? Even worse, Rita isn't really any of those things- she simply doesn't fit in with her family. Granted, her dad is a total a-hole - when his wife suggests they send their daughter to a shrink, he responds with "Or a firing squad!" - but still. You can't like everybody, and what if you don't like somebody you're supposed to? It's a depressing thought, and The Spell is probably the most depressing Carrie rip-off in existence.

Rita, meanwhile, starts to become a little more jerky by the day as she gets a little more witchy by the night, sneaking out at all hours in her finest capery to hone her telekinetic skills with the help of her mentor.

When Rita's face flashes on screen, you know that one of her tormentors is about to be on the receiving end of something or other. This is the case when Marilyn goes to visit a friend who silently chokes and spontaneously combusts as Marilyn looks on, more appalled than frightened (again, this is Lee Grant, folks).




This sequence is without a doubt the money shot of the film.

At home, however, Rita smiles serenely as she embroiders her "Hang in there, kitty!" wall decoration and remains preternaturally calm in the face of hideous nightwear.


The hijinks escalate as Chris almost drowns at a swim meet and dad is almost flattened by a car...and although Rita's not present during either incident, Marilyn begins to suspect that something's hinky with her eldest. Soon it's time for a showcase kitchen showdown for the ages!

Okay, so "for the ages" might be a bit of an exaggeration.

Okay, so "a bit of an exaggeration" might be a bit of an understatement. This is a made-for-TV effort that's fairly tame even for its time period. Again, I can be easy to please, and this bargain basement Carrie pleased me. It's little more than a pleasant 70-minute diversion, and what's wrong with that? Dammit...it must be Lee Grant and her witchy ways compelling me again. But how was I to know? It's not like she was wearing a cape!

For a limited time, you can watch The Spell on Hulu and judge for yourself if you're so inclined.

Audrey Rose (1977) is a film that's long been in my brain. From the undeniably creepy poster art to that time in art school when I was talking horror movies with a classmate and she told me she that the most terrifying film she'd ever seen like, ever, was Audrey Rose...well, it was always a film I had to see. My art school days, however, were the days before The Internet (yes, there was a time before The Internet) and DVDs; this little movie was difficult to find and so I relegated it to "I'll get around to it" status and that was that. After I began Final Girl in earnest and started really diving into the world of horror movies, reading about them and researching them and really just enveloping myself in them, I never forgot about Audrey Rose. It was still a fairly rare film, despite the advent of DVD, and I found it odd that no one seemed to talk about it much, given that that one girl that one time assured me it was pee-your-pants terrifying. So it was glee- glee, I tells ya- that I was feeling when I found a megacheap VHS copy recently. What's the verdict after all these years of searching and waiting?

Umm, if Art School Girl found Audrey Rose to be the most horrifying film in the history of ever, then her head would surely explode within 10 seconds of watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. That's not to say it's a bad movie, but to my great disappointment, this isn't some lost classic unknown sleeper gem that everyone should see right this very second. If anything, it's more drama than horror- which is fine and all, but it's not what I was expecting...and everything should be exactly as I expect forever and ever!


Audrey Rose begins with a fiery car crash on a rain-slicked road in Pennsylvania, then quickly jumps to Manhattan eleven years later. A man in full-on weirdo beard mode (Anthony Hopkins) engages in some lite stalking of the Templeton family: he follows dad Bill (John Beck) to work, he waits outside the school where mom Janice (Marsha Mason) picks up daughter Ivy (Susan Swift)...he never engages the family, but he's always lurking in corners.

Weirdo Beardo isn't the only problem facing this happy little family, however: as Ivy's birthday approaches, she becomes increasingly plagued with nightmares she cannot remember upon waking.

Eventually Weirdo Beardo contacts the Templetons and explains why he's been passively harassing them: his name is Elliot Hoover, and eleven years prior he lost his wife and daughter Audrey Rose in that fiery car accident. After years of talking with psychics and delving into Indian mysticism, Hoover became convinced that his daughter was reincarnated; what's more, he believes that Audrey Rose's soul resides within Ivy, who was born two minutes after Audrey Rose died. Ivy's nightmares are the result of her soul wrestling with its dual nature. Bill and Janice are skeptical, but when Hoover calms Ivy's sleep-yelling by calling her "Audrey Rose", Janice begins to have her doubts.

Then begins a cycle:

- Ivy has a nightmare
- Bill is either absent (working late) or simply can't calm the girl down
- Hoover is present and can calm the girl
- Bill and Janice argue over what's happening and what should be done about it

...repeat, repeat. Oddly enough, Audrey Rose becomes a courtroom drama towards the end, wherein the possibilities of reincarnation are discussed- what rights does Hoover have if Ivy has a piece of Audrey Rose's soul lurking within her? There's a bit of science vs religion that ultimately results in an ending that's supposed to be uplifting, I suppose, but really isn't.


Don't get me wrong- Audrey Rose isn't a terrible film. It raises plenty of questions (though it falls squarely on the pro-reincarnation side of things) and provides lots of food for thought. The entire affair is helmed by the venerable Robert Wise (The Haunting), so to call it competent filmmaking is a bit of an understatement. It's bolstered by some fine performances, particularly from Marsha Mason (this is really her film, after all) and Susan Swift, who's largely given the thankless task of screaming and whining ad nauseum. Anthony Hopkins is serviceable, though he manages to be simultaneously dead-eyed and twitchy as a man fighting to save his dead daughter's soul. I even managed to overcome my deep and abiding loathing of John Beck, who appeared on Dallas as Mark Graison, a guy who I suppose was nice enough but totally came between Pam and Bobby solely due to creepy, wealthy persistence.

No, the problem with Audrey Rose is that it's been miscategorized for decades, largely in my head. The Exorcism of Emily Rose comes to mind as a descendant, though that film is far more flashy and horrifying than its predecessor. In short, it's worth a watch on a rainy Sunday afternoon, perhaps, but take it from me: don't let it haunt your brain!

I don't know what my problem is lately, but I've been having difficulty making up my mind about...everything. Maybe it's the onset of summer's scorching heat, which leaves one feeling as if one resides within a tramp's tube sock. Maybe it's my brain shutting down to reserve energy in anticipation of the coming weeks, which will be busy busy biz-ZAY. Whatever the cause, it's resulted in my spending a lot more time than usual staring off into space. It all goes something like this:

1. I look at my movies, trying to figure out what to watch
2. I can't decide between A, B, C and so on through ZZZ
3. Thinking becomes too much work
4. Brain go MEHHHH
5. Sit down
6. Stare off into space trying to try to decide to decide

Blah blah blah. I did manage to make it to a press screening of Orphan, however, and I really dug it...so, you know, whatevs. Go see it! It's fun with a capital no really it was. Speaking of orphans, I did manage to recently watch Safe Harbor starring Tracey Gold, wherein she portrays a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective tracking a serial killer who targets former residents of a children's home. I hate to say it, but not even the idea of Tracey Gold as a tough-as-nails-but-totally-vulnerable-underneath-said-tough-veneer detective could save that stinker. I knew who the killer was the first time the killer appeared onscreen, and it was all a bit rote. Sigh. 'Twas a disappointment, but such is life.

Anyishouldwatchfaceofeviltomakeupforthatsafeharborshit, I'm only telling you all this because I'm sitting here trying to decide when to depart for San Diego Comic Con. I can't make up my mind, although I need to rather soon since...you know, the con has already started. I may leave late tonight...or tomorrow...or tomorrow night...or..................brain go MEHHHH.

But! I know for a fact that no matter when I leave, I'm 99.9999992% positive that I won't be posting any more until I return next week. I hope to catch the screening of Trick R Treat while I'm there, so I'll come back and tell you allllllll about it. I have no idea what else I'll be doing at the con- that's just way too much planning in advance and THINKING for me right now.

I know you'll miss me so effing much you'll hardly be able to stand it (and I you, kids...and I you), but fret not, pretties! Here are some Dallas paper dolls you can print out and play with while I'm gone. They'll keep you company as only paper drawings of Dallas cast members can.

Savvy readers (ie all of you) will SURELY note that Sue Ellen's black and white dress is the number she was wearing the night she was arrested for shooting JR. I mean, a-DOY.

Savvy readers will also note that under all his tough talk and shady business practices, that JR is a true patriot.

I'm, like, totally in "post-production" on Ludlow. Since I went way overboard with the info sharing regarding the shoot, I figured, you know, why not indulge myself and share way too much info during the entire process of putting this movie together? It's what The Internet is for. Well, it's for sharing too much information and it's for LOLcats.

So, WARNING: this is all about me and my big ideas for Ludlow and seriously, it’s so boring, I’m falling asleep whilst typing ittttttttttwiooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Oh, if you have no idea what the fuck a "Ludlow" is, click here and catch up. Or don't and remain clueless. Whatever, man, that's totes your beeswax.


If you’ve watched any of my previous…uh, let’s call them “films” for lack of a better term, shall we?…then you may or may not be surprised to find out that they’re all edited on l’il ol’ iMovie5. See, I’m always about 6 or 8 steps behind the curve when it comes to computers due to the fact that I’m not a millionaire. It’s true! Though I exude exquisite class and glamour all over The Internet, I am little more than a humble pauper.


As such, I plod along all humble pauper-style working with programs from 5 years ago and everything’s generally cool; I’m a big proponent of the idea that your equipment doesn’t entirely matter, but rather it’s all about what you can do with it. *sexual innuendo, wakka wakka* The point is, geez… the first three episodes of Ghostella’s Haunted Tomb were shot on VHS, and they’re…largely coherent, at least.

SHANNON LARK: Stacie never gives herself enough credit. "Lack of a better term?" Her movies are wonderful! And they actually make sense. Especially her latest with that wedding dress-thing.

In related news, did you know that NOBODY uses VHS anymore? Weird, right? I just don’t understand this modern world! VHS is so cool. Why I remember the day I stepped up to VHS from using this thing. Oh, what a day that was. Electric Youth!

I’ll readily admit that top of the line equipment would be swell to own- after all, there’s no arguing that stuff shot on the Red One (fancy, expensive) looks better than stuff shot on VHS (not fancy, obsolete). But again, I’m not a millionaire and thus I make do. Sometimes, though, you just gotta bite the bullet and upgrade your crap to crap plus.


Sometimes, upgrading is all about ease. After those first three episodes of Ghostella, I dumped my VHS camera for a cheap (but kick ASS) mini-DV camera. In addition to superior picture quality, this meant I could simply import footage directly from the camera into iMovie rather than burning a DVD from the VHS tapes, extracting the footage from the DVDs, converting the file types, and THEN importing to iMovie. I still make out with my little camera every night as my perverted way of thanking it for saving me so much time and hassle. The making out is also my way of letting it know that I think it’s pretty.

SHANNON LARK: I agree that you should make out with your equipment. It makes it function better (as long as no saliva hits the mother board) as the good vibes permeate its mechanical consciousness.

I’m trying to make a…well, a GOOD MOVIE here with Ludlow. Relatively speaking, natch. I want it to look beautiful, and I want as much as possible to avoid the deadliest of pitfalls that frequently lay waste to no-budget movies: shitty audio. Whether or not I’ll achieve these goals remains to be seen, but to give myself a leg up I used Shannon’s fancy-pants camera to shoot the film (although not wanting to neglect my own beloved camera, I brought it with me to capture behind the scenes shenanigans and, you know, to make out with). The second part of this mathemagical equation involves post-production and my decision to…dun dun dunnnnn…upgrade from iMovie 5 to Final Cut Express 4. This is roughly the equivalent of upgrading from sitting on your ass all day to going all nutcake and doing the Ironman Triathlon in under an hour.

I don’t know if that makes any sense, or whether doing the Triathlon in under an hour would indeed indicate a level of nutcakedness, but perhaps you get the point.

What? No, I’ve never done the Ironman Triathlon. BIG DEAL. It’s not like I’ve never done ANYTHING. I mean, this one time I stayed up for two days straight and lemme tell ya, it broke my fucking brain! It was during a road trip with my friend Jim, and the highlight of the trip was probably the moment when my mind completely melted and I couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant where we’d had breakfast. The restaurant was called Country Pride (gross, awesome), but the closest I could get to calling it that was to blurt out “Purity Face”.

SHANNON LARK: Hahaha! I went to a place like that recently. It had a giant pig in front of it, which I rode.

Anyway.

Look, I’m not trying to knock iMovie Version From 5 Years Ago, believe me. I’ve done some cool stuff with it, if I do say so myself (and clearly I do say so myself). However, the program is largely aimed at people who want to make a “movie” of their kids pooping at the beach and Ken Burns-style photo montages set to the tune of Jim Croce’s “Time In A Bottle” to give as a gift to Nana and Pap Pap for their 60th wedding anniversary- and that’s…you know, mega-cool. But for Ludlow, I want more control than iMovie can provide; I want to filter audio and correct colors and all that deluxe good-time jazz. Lo, I say unto thee, this is a story about control. Control of what I say, control of what I do- and this time, I’m gonna do it MY way. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Are we ready? I am- ‘cause it’s all about control…and I’ve got lots of it.

NnnngaaaahhhhhJANET JACKSON GET OUT OF MY HEAD.


Sorry, wait…mmm. Err, where the fuck am I going with this?

Oh yeah- so I upgraded my computer and now my stupid big fat scanner is no longer compatible with my system (it sits, useless and mocking) which means I can no longer scan in…you know…STUFF FOR MY LIFE which includes COMICS and I’ve got Final Cut Express but it’s super complicated and I don’t know what I’m doing and I hate not knowing what I’m doing and I feel my self-imposed deadline looming and I’m totally freaking out.

SHANNON LARK: Girl, you are gonna get the freakin' stupid editing system BLAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Just keep working at it. You are super smart and you do things and you have the BESTEST blog on the intarweb where people send you fanmail and some of them even try to look up pictures of me naked just because you have let me go blablabla on your blog about masturbation and Ludlow. This is just Ludlow trying to bring you down, man. Fuck Ludlow. Fuck it with an iron fist and conquer this program till you hit yourself in the face cause your fist goes right through it, all transparency-like.

SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP did I really write all this just to bitch about how my new editing program is OH SO HARD and WAH WAH WAHH and IT’S GOING TO TAKE ME SO LONG TO LEARRRRRRRRNNNN? Hmm. I guess I did.

Well, I SAID it was boring…and YOU read it anyway! SUCKER!

Sorry, that’s not very nice at all. I’m going to go make an iMovie video featuring a Ken Burns-style montage of all our favorite Final Girl pictures from over the years, and I’ll set it to the tune of Icy Spicy Leoncie’s “Man! Let’s Have Fun” as my way of apologizing.

Actually, that video sounds pretty cool. Wow, I should be a jerk more often!

And please don’t remind me that I’m bitching about editing movies on my computer while the world is riddled with people who have no homes or clothes or perhaps not even eyes, because I feel guilty enough about my meager entitlements already. I BID YOU GOOD DAY.

As you may or may not remember, the season finale of Ghostella's Haunted Tomb, "Top Friends", featured a Person You May Have Heard Of, one Lena Headey of 300 and Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. After the episode aired, I really dug reading speculation on a couple of websites regarding how I possibly could have gotten her on my show. Blackmail? Did someone owe me a favor? Was it a mafia thing?

Alright, so I fueled that last rumor myself. But still, people wondered about it...but the answer is quite simple: I got her in Ghostella the way I've gotten everyone who's been in Ghostella in Ghostella. We're friends, and I thought it would be fun so I asked. Mystery solved- rest easy, internet! See, a mutual friend introduced us at San Diego Comic-Con and that was that.

LH: Quite sober, I think. We laughed, I remember, Ponder, and I was feeling very fond of you immediately.

SP: You made fun of my drink.

She did, and since I spent the night drinking whatever candy apple red thing it was they were giving away free, I probably deserved it.

We watch horror movies, we play video games, we both like Dallas, she gives me Toblerone, and neither of us can resist a photo booth. It's like having anyone else for a friend, except my mom gets excited because she'll go to Best Buy and, like, see Terminator: TSCC on the shelf.

Believe it or not, there's a point to all this, I swear! That point is, Lena stars in The Broken, one of After Dark's 8 Films to Die For, hitting a store shelf NEAR YOU on Tuesday, March 31. For my AMC column this week, I attempted to sit down with her for an interview. Upon transcription, however, I realized that what I'd recorded was an hour of...of...well, not quite madness, I suppose, but certainly nonsense. I cobbled together what I could and you can read it now at AMC.

But...AMC has, like, rules and stuff about length and format, you know? And there's an editor. All those ellipsis? That's where they made with the chop chop...which is fine, that's their bag. However, I think people (myself included) like to read interviews that aren't so TV Guide, Q & A boring. Cutting out quirky speech patterns or whatever makes everyone sound the same, and it's strictly dullsville. Take the last question, for example, where I ask her about being paprazzied; I think her full answer gives her a little more, you know, personality, and I think it makes the whole affair more interesting for someone who might want to learn more about the actor.

LH: I think I’ve been paparazzied twice in my life since I’ve been out here and it was sort of…horrendous, do you know what I mean? I don’t go anywhere. You know me. I’m such a big spaz, I’m happy to sit here with my dogs and hang out with people I like. All that doesn’t appeal to me. I do think it is a conscious effort of keeping your head down so you can remain anonymous. It’s very funny, I feel like I have this thing where they’re like, “She’s Sarah Connor!” Nobody knows what else I do or what else I’ve done. It’s funny to me, and it couldn’t be farther from me. But I do love shooting stuff!

Or maybe the question where I ask about The Sophisticates, the short film that marked Lena's writing/directing debut, the film she hopes to expand into a feature:

LH: As you know, directing is a long road and I’ve got many ideas and the movie that I’ve written, The Sophisticates, which is a comedy. Yeah, all these other things are exciting, but you know, I’ve never directed before so I need to make sure that people know that I can do it. In terms of that, The Sophisticates is a small ensemble comedy and I hope it’s charming and funny. I think female directors, first timers, always seem to set out and do a drama, a two-person drama. I think, oh fuck it, I wanna make a goofy movie. And I think making people laugh is really fucking difficult. Part of the reason for me writing The Sophisticates was sort of that Wizard of Oz element. I want people to go in and have a treat, be uplifted and charmed, and have a colorful thing to stare at for a minute. And not to please this sort of short memory we’ve got. But you know, I get into trouble for that, for saying no to things.


But anyway, I'm not going to go back and forth, comparing and contrasting. Rather, I'm going to post here what didn't make the cut...the ridiculous nonsense. Why? I don't know. It's like DVD special features or something.

SP: So if life was like The Broken, what would you do if you were out on the street and you saw someone drive by and it was, like, kind of…you? What would you do?

LH: I would just punch her in the face.

SP: “There’s only room for one Headey in this town!”

LH: “Stop trying to be so pretty!” Actually, I’d probably just ask her where she got her hair done. But if she had a better car than me I’d fucking steal that. If it was a Volvo PS 1800 I would kill the person that looked like me and I’d take it.

SP: I don’t even know what that is.

LH: It’s the coolest car ever made. Just that.

SP: I’m sorry, I thought The Love Bug was the coolest car ever made.

LH: No, not Bernie. What’s his name?

SP: Herbie.

LH: Ernie. Barbara!

SP: It should’ve been Barbara!

LH: Yes! “Love Bug 2: Barbara’s Revenge”. She kills Herbie. She makes Herbie go bananas, is what she does.

SP: Well played. Let’s get Hollywood on the phone. Lindsay can star in it again…

LH: Johnny Depp can play the car…

SP: You’re very much…umm…

LH: Kind.

SP: Very kind. You have a certain grace about you.

LH: Like a kindly swan.

SP: What’s your historical disease of choice: consumption, the plague, or the vapors?

LH: That…but do you die from the vapors?

SP: No, just…people fan you and then you’re fine.

LH: Well, it’s not really a disease, is it? Just attention seeking. A narcissistic disease.

SP: Mental illness and corsets…

LH: I’ve done a few movies in a corset, and let me tell you: no. You can’t eat a Fatburger, you can’t have a pint of beer.

SP: Let’s talk about The Cave!

LH: Alright, let’s do it, Ponder. Is that your favorite film of mine? Or of all time?

SP: It is. I’m not gonna lie.

LH: It’s got amazing power.

SP: Yeah, it really spoke to me.

LH: It changes lives. It does.

SP: They play it in children’s sick wards…

LH: When people do charity walks, they play it at the beginning to get everyone pumped up. I think they play it on Romania’s travel website…


SP: The impression I have of you…you know, you go on your first press junket and you listen to all the actors and you think, “Wow, this is so interesting!” Then you go on your second press junket and you realize that they’re all saying the exact same things that everyone on the first junket said. It’s all these standard answers, and it’s so boring. But knowing you beyond a press junket, it does honestly seem to be about the work with you. You’re always talking about ideas, we’re always talking about ideas, you’re up for anything, you know what I mean? So it’s cool to know that you’re out there.

LH: It’s a strange thing about acting- people almost think it’s some bestowed sort of honor, but it’s like, you’re fucking human. The fact is, it’s happened for us and there are many more talented people out there who haven’t gotten the work. But yeah, I don’t ever want to stop being curious about it, because when I do it’ll be over for me and I’ll go make cakes or something. Really shit cakes. But I love it. I love actors, I think there’s obviously and element of narcissism involved with being an actor, but I think there’s a bravery to it. The cinema for me is such a therapy. Even a silly movie- the lights go down and for that hour and a half you’re kind of lost. I love that. And to give people that experience- movies that move you, or make you laugh, or scare you, it’s just such a joy. And to come out of a movie, having really had an experience, that’s part of what makes me really want to direct. Working with actors, it’s a privilege to direct. Some directors don’t feel that- it’s just an excuse to yell and seek revenge for a playground experience.

We talked a bit about the internet and how there's up-to-the-minute, behind-the-scenes this and sneak peek that, how there's no waiting for a movie anymore, no real anticipation...you know, just general old people vs the internet bitchery.

LH: I have such a hard time on the TV show because they want me to do publicity for every single thing, speak to everybody, and I can’t- for me, it takes away everything that acting’s about. Why can’t we have mystery anymore? Why can’t people go and watch it and decide for themselves? But actors aren’t the advertisers, and I don’t think we should have to go and do all that. If I can sit like this and talk about everything, you know, that makes sense to me. But the sort of generic repetition…

SP: Well, you’re supposed to want the attention.

LH: Maybe that’s it. I have no interest in that.

SP: Alright, I think we're done.

LH: Are we? Did you get enough? We didn’t talk about anything, did we?

SP: It’s fine. I can weave some magic.

LH: You can. I don’t care what you say.

SP: Don’t worry, I won’t make you look any worse than you actually are.

Then we had pizza and watched Session 9. Holla!

Pop on over to AMC and read my column all about POV horror.


I mean, if you want to. I know you probably have better things to do. Or maybe you just don't care anymore...which...I don't know, what am I supposed to do about that? You probably found some other horror movie blog that's younger and prettier, right? RIGHT? Is that where you've been? You told me you were "working" "late" and now I find out you've been lovin' on some...some...slattern? Fine. Be that way. Don't read this week's column. And don't take the super wicked awesome ultimate Friday the 13th Fan Quiz either...the quiz I may or may not have made. If you paid a little more attention to me, then you'd probably already know.

Wow, sorry for the drama- I've been overdosing on Dallas lately. Will JR and Sue Ellen ever find peace?

It is a well-known fact that one of the sides comprising the equilateral triangle that represents the best television shows in the history of ever is the new Battlestar Galactica (the other two sides being, of course, Melrose Place and Dallas).

Wow, writing that sentence totally got me jonesing to do some alg/trig, what with all the letters and formulae and angles that are involved. Scalene triangles are the best triangles, don't you think?


Wait, I mean I hate math! Christ, I keep forgetting that I'm a girl. Damn this moustache!

The point is, when one loves Battlestar Galactica as if the show is one's own child and one is browsing at Video Hut and one spots a movie called Ghost Rig (2003) and one notices that the words "Jamie" and "Bamber" are emblazoned across the top of the box, one gets very excited and one brings Ghost Rig home. Jamie Bamber, see, plays Apollo on Battlestar Galactica, and Ghost Rig is ostensibly a horror movie. A squared + B squared = 2 great tastes tasting great together, my mathemagical friends!

In Ghost Rig, a bunch of environmental activists occupy an abandoned oil rig that's about to be demolished. Believing that the "artificial reef" formed by the rig debris will do more harm than good, the crazy kids of "Action Planet" intend to stay on the rig until...until...uh, I guess until the government promises not to destroy it. You know, they use the strategy of those folks who sit in trees to protest the chop-chop.

After what seems like 453968 minutes of activists walking around with flashlights, we learn that the rig is not, in fact, abandoned! There's someone on board, though whether corporeal or otherwise it's unclear. This someone's intentions are perfectly clear, however, and soon the someone makes with the Black Christmasing of an unlucky activist.

After the body is found, the group is divided into two factions: those who want to stay and those who want to split. The stayers outnumber the splitters so the activists decide to keep...activisting.

Captain Action Planet decides this is a good time to casually mention to the group that the rig was quarantined before their arrival. Nothing like a little exposure to unknown viruses and the such to liven things up a bit!

At this point, Ghost Rig becomes the rig-ified baby of John Carpenter's The Thing and that movie I've seen ten minutes of about seven times, Fallen. The virus ain't a virus per se, but rather it's a...demon of sorts, and the possession is passed from person to person and therefore no one can be trusted. The ragtag group of activists must overcome their differences (Captain Action Planet is an a-hole! Jamie Bamber is totally a double agent, which kind of doesn't make any sense!) as they fight for survival. Will they be able to?


People flip out and whale on each other with hammers, wounds heal via dodgy CGI, there's a 'demon voice' which proves that Mercedes McCambridge is the only person who could do a believable demon voice and she didn't need any fucking help from a computer thank you very much, there are corpses tucked away in the walls, and the activists piece together what happened on the rig before it got all possess-y, starting with the discovery of a giant devil's hopscotch.

By the way, the term "devil's hopscotch" reminds me of Devil's Hopyard, which is a state park near where I grew up. Obviously it's the best name for a state park EVARRRRRR. It also has the coolest legends of any state park I've ever encountered, which, as you can imagine, fueled wee Final Girl's imagination:

Another tale focuses on the potholes near the falls, which are some of the finest examples of pothole stone formations in this section of the country. Perfectly cylindrical, they range from inches to several feet in diameter and depth. These potholes were formed by stones moved downstream by the current and trapped in an eddy where the stone was spun around and around, wearing a depression in the rock. When the rock wore itself down, another would catch in the same hole and enlarge it. We know this now, but to the early settlers the potholes were a great mystery that they tried to explain with references to the supernatural. They thought that the Devil has passed by the falls, accidentally getting his tail wet. This made him so mad he burned holes in the stones with his hooves as he bounded away.

Stupid, awesome, superstitious settlers.

But! Now is not the time for southeastern Connecticut's geological history. Now is the time for mediocre horror movies, so back to Ghost Rig.


I must admit, just when I was thinking that this movie was a let down, Apollo or no Apollo, Ghost Rig surprised me with a twist ending that was interesting, satisfying, and undoubtedly the best part of the movie. I'm not going to give anything away here because not only was the ending completely unexpected, but it's also complicated and I'm too lazy to type all that shit out. Suffice it to say, when Ghost Rig ended I had to give it a begrudging "Not bad, kid...not bad at all." Then Ghost Rig gave me a Coke and I threw my shirt at it*.


So. Should you seek out Ghost Rig? Well, if you're anything like me, then perhaps yes. "Anything like me" means that you want to make out with Battlestar Galactica so badly that you even consider rewatching Halloween: Resurrection, a movie that opened with fifteen minutes that made you want to kill yourself and the entire world the first time you saw it, just because Starbuck is in it. "Anything like me" means that a movie about a haunted oil rig is something that makes you genuinely go "Ooh, hey, this could be good". "Anything like me" means you would buy an algebra workbook just for fun, but I suppose that's sort of beside the point.



*I realize that there are plenty of you out there who have absolutely no clue what I'm referencing here, so voila. Great Caesar's ghost, I've dated people who are younger than that commercial. How is this possible? In related news, does Coke really add life?