Entries Tagged 'halloween' ↓

1989 certainly has it high points in horror cinema- Henry, Portrait of a Serial Killer, Bad Taste, and Pet Sematary to name a few. However, the closing of the decade saw the genre lapse into a crap coma. Despite the endless hand holdings and the whisperings of "Are you in there? Can you hear me? What's a coma like? Does my new haircut make my face look too boxy?" by fans, horror would lay fairly lifeless until Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson kicked it awake a few years later with Scream.

I don't know whether or not Pet Sematary is actually any good, but I swear I've seen it a zillion times. Much like Jingle Jugs, my Zelda impersonation ("Rachel! You'll never walk again!") is the life of any party. Somehow, every time I see the film I remain thoroughly convinced that Zelda is played by Amanda Plummer, even though that's never, ever the case.

Anyway, 1989 was truly the year of underwater horror and lousy sequels.


Greg Evigan and Sean Cunningham, yeah? I keep meaning to watch this one, I swear.

Wow, that was truly fucking insightful.

Oh yeah, this also stars Nia Peeples. When I was young, I used to think it was funny to call her "Pia Nipples".



I can't believe I can find fault with a movie where someone gets his head punched off, but F13: VIII stinks. It's one of those films I keep thinking will get better with age, that maybe I misjudged it, that maybe I'll find some new appreciation for it the more I see it, but...no. Still, someone gets his head punched off.



I've only seen this once and I remember thinking, "Well, that certainly wasn't The Fly!", which is perhaps some of the most pointed film criticism ever thought. I know I'll see it again someday because it stars Daphne Zuniga and eventually I'll get pulled into her Jo Reynolds-flavored clutches.


I don't like thinking about Halloween 5 because thinking about Halloween 5 causes me to think about the "quirky" Tina and her zebra-striped pants and thinking about "quirky" Tina and her zebra-striped pants causes my heart to pound (in a bad way) and my blood to rage white-water-rafting-style. Therefore, I choose a life of willful ignorance where Halloween 5 doesn't exist. It's for the sake of my health!


I've had a VHS copy of this sitting on my shelf for a looooong time now, and I've never mustered the energy to watch it. I'm sure that says something or other about some kind of something.



I wish Lords of the Deep was some sort of water-related dance extravaganza going on in Las Vegas starring Tony Danza and Debbie Reynolds. Alas, it's just Roger Corman's attempt at cashing in on '89's underwater horror craze.



I don't think I've ever seen this; I gave up on Freddy after catching Part 4 in the theatre. Therefore, it could be amazing for all I know. My Spider Sense, however, indicates otherwise. Still, great poster.



Now, y'all know I loves me some Angela, big time. This love doesn't blind me to the fact that Sleepaway Camp III is really, truly awful. Except the first 15 minutes or so, where that trashy girl is yelling at her mom, all whiny-like: "Today's the day I'm going ta caaaaaamp. Ya heah me? I'm goin' ta that camp today!" and then she goes outside where a bewigged, stolen garbage truck-driving Angela runs her over. Those fifteen minutes are cinematic gold, my friends.



I've only seen the first two films in the Silent Night, Deadly Night saga- yes, even though I know one of the later sequels stars Mickey Rooney as some evil toymaker or some shit. Someday when I hate life in general, I'll marathon the series.

So...1989. Whatchoo tink?

OMG, see what I did with that post title? It's thisclose to being clever!

Anywhatevers, Horror-Movies.ca is reporting that Silent Hill 2 has been scrapped. Or not. For now. Maybe. According to their "source":

...plans for Silent Hill 2 have been cancelled...the film is dead in the water...although the film will not be shooting soon it will still very likely happen.

So...err...not sure what that all means. Maybe simply filming has been postponed because they missed their shooting window? It seems like it's all up in the air. Radha Mitchell may or may not return, blah blah blah. I'd welcome another SH flick, if the script was a wee better than the first. By "wee", I mean "a big wee". I dug the movie and all- the visuals were narf (I think I just made that up...I mean it to be similar to "neat" or "rad" or "boss". Use it in a sentence today!)- but the script was weak with a capital Plug Your Ears. There was a great setup for a sequel in the ending , though, so my fingers are crossed.


In related news, man Horror-Movies.ca is a busy-looking website.

In other related news, how come I don't have any sources? I totally want to meet some shadowy figure in a parking lot who'll fill me in with kinda sorta news that's really just page filler. You know: "Platinum Dunes is talking about remaking Rob Zombie's Halloween. There's no writer...or director...or star...or even anything concrete yet, but still." Then I can yell "Whatta scoop!" and high tail it back to my keyboard to bring you all the latest exclusive news. Sigh.

Speaking of Rob Zombie's Halloween, have you seen the trailer for H2? Here it is. Go. Watch.

Back? Alright. Now, I know that despite the childhood romance we shared, my relationship with the original Halloween 2 hasn't exactly been on fire lately. The hospital setting could be mined for gold, though, and for a split second of the H2 trailer it seems as if Zombie might be tapping a vein (which sounds hot). Then...then...a bewigged Sheri Moon-Zombie shows up and...well, my mom taught me that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all- so I'll let my pal JA at My New Plaid Pants say it for me:

...that is so fucking stupid looking I can barely believe it. I mean, my god. Just. My god.

Wait. My mom never taught me any such thing!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE WHITE WINGED DOVE WIGGED GHOST MOM? Yes, Rob Zombie, your wife is hot. Yes, it's understandable that you want to put her in your movies. But Michael's mom died in the first film...not to mention that Michael was already a homicidal kookadook in the first film, so having Mrs Myers become some sort of Mrs Voorhees in the sequel is a craptacular idea with a capital FUCKING CRAP. Also not to mention that her violent urgings go against the slim characterization she had in Halloween and in light of the mother-son relationship it makes no sense and arrrrgh white wigggggggghiusafsduva;vKscjd;C.

Umm. Well. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it all turns out.

Apparently Friday the 13th cleaned up at the box office, raking in more than $40 million over the weekend. If you added your hard-earned dollars to that total and you'd like to weigh in with your thoughts, well, here's a place to do it. Lots of opinions flying around. While everyone who disagrees with me about the film is obviously WRONG, I welcome your comments anyway.

Oh, and I don't mean to imply that only people who spent hard-earned dollars on F13 should chime in. Those of you who found a ten spot as well as those of you who sat on the sidewalk with a sign reading "Why lie? I want to see Friday the 13th" until you collected enough dimes to buy a ticket can play, too.

But Jason is so...so...three days ago, isn't he? Let's remain on the cutting edge and move on to the next wackadoo in the slasher cycle- Michael Myers! Yes, Rob Zombie's Halloween 2 is still going to happen, and here's the teaser poster to prove it:

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Stacie, you must be wrong. Rob Zombie can't be making Halloween 2. Why, I remember reading right here at Final Girl that he wouldn't do it! Let's see...what did he say? Oh yeah...

I'm done. I did what I wanted to do, I came in and I made a movie that I thought was a self-contained film and now I'm walking away.

So see? Why are you lying, Stacie? Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?"

Dude, it's neither. He said that, and now he's making the movie. However, we should take into consideration that before he made Halloween, he also said (regarding remakes):

Those movies are perfect- you're only going to make yourself look like an asshole by remaking them.

I guess the lesson here is...well, I'm not sure exactly. Money is awesome, maybe? Never say never? Stop, drop, and roll? Eh. I can't say that I'm at all excited about H2, and let's just leave it at that.

However, you know what I am excited about? This teaser trailer for [REC]2.



I know the original film has its detractors...however, I ate that shit up and I'm ready for more. This embedding might not work; if not, follow this link to Shock Till You Drop to check it out.

In other sequel news, I guess there's stuff floating around in cyberspace related to The Descent 2. I'm ignoring all of it- no pictures, no interviews, no trailers, NADA. I want to go into that one knowing only that it exists. I don't even know when it's coming out. How's that for being an ignoramus?

So many of you answered this call for movie posters, thank you! You guys are "mad awesome" as the kids say. Alright, so no kid talks like that. The point is, they're swell and I'll be posting them this Friday. I know I said that I'd post them last week, but 1) I wanted to give Jason his day to shine all alone, and 2) I'm a liar.


One last thing: I got nominated for a fucking RONDO! I can't believe it. Seriously, I can not believe it...and man, I'm in some wicked esteemed company. Head here to vote- you can do so until March 21. Now I know what they mean by "it's an honor just to be nominated". I also know what they mean by the "Boltzmann Brain Theory", because I looked it up.

Hooray for everything!

From the dust-collecting, perhaps wasteful things that are still pretty damn cool department come Cubeecraft Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers!

Download the designs from the Cubeecraft website and build these paper psychos yourself- you only need a printer and some scissors. Oh, and patience. And love...let's not forget the love.

There are about a zillion designs to choose from, from comic book icons such as Batman and Hellboy to such random characters as the "Duck Hunt" dog. I started out slow and simple and made myself a sweet-n-nerdy little Weighted Companion Cube* from Portal**.

Someday I hope to advance my folding skills and paper fu enough to tackle Chairy!


* that link plays "Still Alive", which WILL get stuck in your head

** i heart Portal

Grindhouse, the brainchild of writers/directors Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, didn't exactly perform up to expectations at the box office. In fact, it was a bit of a flop- sort of like that scene in Pee Wee's Big Adventure where Pee Wee goes over to Francis's house in search of his bike and Francis is "having his bath" in, essentially, a pool. The two man-children tussle, and at one point Francis does a big belly flop and slides along the floor; it's not only disturbing (he squeaks), but it looks painful. Yeah, Grindhouse was kinda like that. Or not. Look, all I know is that I saw my tape (yeah, tape) of Pee Wee's Big Adventure on the shelf when I fetched Planet Terror last night, so I've got Pee Wee on the brain. I really love that movie, but I usually forget about it until I start thinking about it (I know, that's, like, the way the brain works)- then I think "Aw, man, I love the Alamo scene...oooh, Morgan Fairchild...Mr Buxton's jumpsuit!" and the fever builds until I have to watch it. So, excuse me for using a clunky Pee Wee simile, but, you know, they can't all be gold.


First up on the Grindhouse double bill is Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror, an ooey-gooey zombie flick that's 105 minutes of pure, unadulterated fun.

As can be expected, the Army's tinkering with biological and chemical weapons results in green gas filling the skies over the Texas countryside, which in turn transforms the populace into hideously deformed, pus-oozing, flesh-eating monsters. A band of plucky survivors, featuring world-renowned badass Wray (Freddy Rodriguez), one-legged go-go dancer Cherry Darling (Rose McGowan), BBQ maverick J.T. (Jeff Fahey), and lesbo-style doctor adulteress Dakota (Marley Shelton), fights its way through the body parts and goop as they try to last the night.

As I said, there's no denying the fun of this movie. The colors are luscious, the action is over-the-top, and the gore flies freely- it's as if rather than trying to recreate a true Grindhouse -style movie (which would have about 1/1000 of Planet Terror's budget), Rodriguez created a pastiche of everything he loves about those films. With its perfect synth score and liberal use of lights and smoke, this flick is akin to an American reinterpretation of an Italian interpretation of a John Carpenter movie. It's truly an outrageous sight to behold, and if you're not wearing a big, goofy grin when Cherry Darling flies through the air in front of an explosion and launches rockets out of her rocket launcher leg, then I have to wonder what kind of movie would give you a big goofy grin.


My biggest complaint with Planet Terror is Rose McGowan, who...well, I'm not sure exactly if her performance is so stilted purposefully (this is, after all a Z-grade movie on a big budget), or if the countless Restylane injections have not only frozen up her face but also her acting abilities. With that machine gun leg, Cherry Darling has the potential to become a real action/horror movie icon; with McGowan's flat performance, however, she's just a girl with a machine gun leg. Which, I'll admit, is still pretty fucking awesome. I just wish she'd been a little less self-conscious and a bit more fun, like the rest of the cast.

If I never see "The Crazy Babysitter Twins" or Quentin Tarantino in a movie again, though, it won't be too soon. Or it will be too soon, or however the saying goes when I mean that they were all fairly irritating.

Scenes to watch out for: "You'll blow your own head off!" and The Death of Fergie, which oddly enough got me thinking about Lamberto Bava's Demons...definite 80s Italian vibe.




On to the much-maligned Tarantino-helmed half of the proceedings, Death Proof. A bunch of obnoxious girls spouting obvious Tarantino dialogue* head off for a weekend at a lake house, stopping several times along the way to drink margaritas, pound shots of Wild Turkey, talk about sexy times, and smoke up. Enter the nacho-loving Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell), a man who likes to use his "death proof" stunt car to terrorize and/or kill obnoxious girls.

A big complaint about this film is that all that dialogue and yammering gets in the way of the action, and sure, it does. Tarantino isn't simply paying homage to the Grindhouse movie here, he's making one. Check out Unhinged, or hell, even Halloween: horror movies of yore were largely dialogue and yammering. Girls talk...and talk...and talk, and then 40 or 50 minutes in, something happens. Keeping this in mind, I was totally on board with the first half of Death Proof. Tarantino lays out all the hallmarks of the slasher film (weekend getaway, etc), epitomized in the scenes where Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito) keeps noticing this creepy black car that seems to keep noticing her. That shit is straight outta Halloween y'all.


In related news, Vanessa Ferlito is pretty fucking terrific in this movie.

When everyone decides it's finally time to head out to the lake house for reals, things get cooking. Pam (McGowan again, just as horribly one-not as she was in Planet Terror) makes the mistake of getting into Stuntman Mike's car and suddenly he transforms from sorta-weird has-been to totally-weird homicidal has-been and it all goes to hell.

Exhilarating hell. Once Stuntman Mike gets his death proof on, the car crash is phenomenal and, as pointing out in the script for the film, decidedly not CGI. At this point, Death Proof absolutely lives up to its tagline: "A white-hot juggernaut at 200 miles per hour!"

Sadly, though, all that promise comes to a grinding halt in the second half of the film when the action shifts from Texas to Tennessee. As all of our protagonists died in Mike's assault, we're introduced to a new group of girls, even more obnoxious than the first. As they're all involved in the film industry, they sit around once again spouting obvious Tarantino dialogue about their lives and their jobs and sexy times and how rad Zoe Bell is.


In the parking lot of a convenience store, they catch Stuntman Mike's eye. The girls take a Dodge Challenger for a test spin, which not only allows for Zoe Bell to act like Zoe Bell, but also for Tarantino to list off some muscle-car films we should all seek out immediately. Stuntman Mike catches up to them and engages the girls in some vehicular terrorizin', then the girls turn the tables. Mike wimps out, the girls beat the shit out of him, the end. Literally.

The car chase is fantastic and again, CGI-less. It's filmmaking of a type you don't really see on screen anymore- there are no frenetic edits. Tarantino goes for lengthy shots that up the tension, and again, it's exhilarating. It's too bad, however, that this fantastic sequence is mired in so much bullshit.

It's obvious that Quentin became enamoured with Zoe Bell on the set of Kill Bill, so he decided to build a movie around her and her abilities. That's fine, I suppose, she's great and all, but someone already built a movie around her: the 2004 documentary Double Dare. When Death Proof should have been riding the momentum gained from that magnificent wreck that concluded the first half, it became mired in too-long stories about Zoe Bell's exploits, and that's a real missed opportunity.

Death Proof would have worked better, I think, as a type of rape-revenge film. It is, of a sort, but there's no "rape"- for the ass-kicking/potential murder of Stuntman Mike to pack the wallop it needed to, the stakes needed to be much higher than a game of chicken where no one got hurt. If Tarantino had spent less time at the shrine of Our Lady Zoe of the Bell and more time, say, offing one of the second half's protagonists, the end would have been far more cathartic than it turned out to be. Why not have Mike, I don't know, run over Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) or something? She was completely inessential to the story anyway, and it would have provided a believable impetus for revenge.

All of that said, damn, Tarantino really knows how to shoot a movie. The first half, wherein he kept up the Grindhouse conceits (scratched "film stock", etc), was spot fucking on. I'm not sure why he chose to present the second half in pristine DV, but it was a disappointment regardless.

All of that said, the Grindhouse conceits in both Death Proof and Planet Terror are a bit maddening, for all their "authenticity". They're made to look like films from the '70s, but both also feature modern conveniences like cell phones. It simply doesn't jive or make sense: if these are meant to be "lost films" of a bygone era (I wish this was the intent, but I doubt it), then get rid of the cell phones. If they're modern films in the style of the bygone era (more like it), then why is the "stock" so beat up? It's akin to a CD player made to look like a record player: essentially pointless. Get a GD record player and spin vinyl, or play your CDs on an appropriate device.

Still, I admire the obvious love and nostalgia going on here, and if nothing else, the work of Rodriguez and Tarantino has brought about a revival of Grindhouse flicks- for better or for worse. Anything that brings Pieces to the masses, after all, is fine by me. Unfortunately, I think the ultimate failure (relatively speaking, natch) of the project indicates that the days where audiences would gladly sit on questionably-stained seats for two features and trailers galore are pretty much over. The geeks will still sit for hours on end, sure, but attention spans and "movie culture" have changed, no matter how much some of us may wish otherwise.

Really, though, where were the tits?



*Let it be noted that I don't necessarily mind Tarantino dialogue, unless it simply becomes a list of what QT likes. I mind that all of his characters, male or female, sound alike. The onus is on the actors to make them individuals, and only some of them succeed.

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Acheter et entretenir sa tronconneuse: Planet Terror / Death Proof

I was about to launch into a big ol' diatribe about my weird relationship with Halloween II, about how I loved it so very much when I was a kid but watching it now, I find it almost...unwatchable, but then I thought, "Hmm. Didn't I review this already?" and so I looked and so I did, and that review says everything I was going to say today and then some, and if this sentence goes on much longer it will surely be in contention for the title of "Longest Sentence in the History of Evvvvarrrrrr" so I'd best wrap it up.

This is all coming up because I popped the DVD in the other night and I just...I don't know, man, I think it's over between me and H2. I was bored, man, and that's a death knell for a horror movie. Also, I found Dr. Loomis extremely irritating with all of his unhelpful hyperbole...like, maybe he should try to help the police in some real way rather than yelling "You don't know what death is!" and scurrying off into the night. Also, Laurie's wig is atrocious.

Sigh. I'm at a loss here. Are things really over between us, or will I try again in a year and remember what is was that brought us together in the first place? That would be nice, since Little Final Girl loved this movie so much and I simply refuse to believe that Little Final Girl had terrible taste.

My ambivalence leaning towards dislike of the film doesn't mean, however, that the shot I posted above isn't 100% kick ass, because it is...and not just because it features Lucille "I fucking love the Poole Sisters" Benson.

Blogger B-Sol, proprietor of The Vault of Horror, recently posted a list of the Top 50 Horror Films, as named so according to votes by visitors to the website for media outlet HMV. As a whole, the list is a bit...unusual, and makes the horror snob in me want to curl up in a little fetal wad of self-righteous indignation. Then the prole in me beats up the snob in me and reminds me that, you, know, people like what they like and who am I to judge? Certainly my taste is questionable at times, perhaps more often than not. Then my horror snob self is like "Saw? Really? Of all time?" and then the prole punches the snob again and is, like, "The poll is about favorites, not bests, and isn't Jumpin' Jack Flash one of your favorite movies of all time? That movie sucks, so shut the eff up!". Then the snob is all "Ow! Quit fucking hitting me!" and I hope the prole listens, because frankly it's all giving me a headache.

Nothing fires up the flames of blogger indignation like a list, though, and nothing soothes that burning like the balm of the retaliatory list. As such, B-Sol called on the collective powers of the mighty League of Tana Tea Drinkers to get with The ListMakening: each member submits his, hers, or its 10 Best Horror Movies list, and B-Sol will get around to tallying them all to create a MASTER LIST.

Now, I'm never one to shy away from making a list, whether it's the best horror films, names I would give my dog if I got one, or stupid things you did today, so here goes. These films aren't necessarily my FAVORITES, although most of them would end up on that list as well- these are the horror films I consider to be the BEST. And dagnabbit, they're RANKED, which made the entire enterprise all the more difficult.

1. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)
2. Night of the Living Dead (1968)
3. Psycho (1960)
4. The Exorcist (1973)
5. Nosferatu (1922)
6. Halloween (1978)
7. Alien (1979)
8. The Haunting (1963)
9. Suspiria (1977)
10. The Ring (2002)

There. What's done is done. Now it's time for you all to curl up in your OWN little fetal wads of self-righteous indignation! BOOM.

In the interests of making this even longer, here are my almost-rans, unranked:

The Shining
Don't Look Now
The Brood
The Birds
Jaws
The Thing
The Silence of the Lambs
The Blair Witch Project

There's a particularly cracked-out column by yours truly over at AMC today, talking about...err...imaginary TV shows for horror icons. Or something like that. Read, comment, recommend, read and comment and recommend! If we all band together, I'm sure The Leatherface Show can become a reality. Let's dare to dream, kids!

Providing further proof that he is the man, Arbogast has a wonderful post today suggesting that all you Californians vote A BIG FUCKING FAT NO on Proposition 8 come election time. For those of you not in the know, that's the proposed amendment that would ban gay marriage. I'm not one to blog about politics, but you know...I'm pretty sure gay marriage won't 1) affect or "demean" the marriages of heterosexual couples, and 2) bring about the end of the world...unless, of course, Alucarda is one of the brides. That might very well signal the end of times, but that's got all to do with her Beelzebubbin' ways, not her lesbionics!

Vote NO for the lesbian vampires of the world! Vote NO for the dads in Sleepaway Camp! Vote NO for Michael Myers and Dr Loomis!

Vote NO because it's the right thing to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honk...honkhonkhonnnnnk!

Film Club Coolies, y'all!

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

I had this feeling that watching The Child, the 1977 lo-budget flick about a li'l girl who telekinetically controls a li'l zombie army, would be a life-changing event.

There's a chance my expectations were too high.

And yet, this outing from a bunch of "nobodies" and producer de sleaze extraordinaire Harry Novak (Rituals, Please Don't Eat My Mother, Midnight Plowboy, Sexual Kung Fu in Hong Kong, and Mantis in Lace, which features my great uncle!) is actually pretty good and downright creepy.

Alicianne (Laurel Barnett) is to be the new nanny/governess for Rosalie Nordon (err...Rosalie Cole), whose mother died under mysterious circumstances- she may have been murdered by a tramp! Or perhaps something else happened. After all, Rosalie's mom was a nutter and spent most of her life in and out of mental institutions. Although the Nordon's elderly neighbor Mrs Whitfield (Ruth Ballan) says Rosalie is as wacked out as her mom was, that remains to be seen. The physical resemblance Rosalie bears to her late mother, however, is positively striking- Rosalie tells Alicianne that folks were always commenting how the mom and daughter even had the same exact hair. It's so true- see for yourself!


I must say, things get going right away with The Child. Alicianne is suspicious of Rosalie before the kid has even done anything weird- why, even Rosalie's dad (Frank Janson) and older brother Len (Richard Hanners) talk about the fact that she's a total kookadook. It doesn't take long before she proves them right.

Mrs Whitfield makes one too many comments about how Rosalie shouldn't be playing in the cemetery after dark and the next thing you know, she's got a basement full of crusty old zombies!

The zombies drag the poor old woman away and rip her face off, totally undoing her tightly-wound bun in the process. The Child doesn't skimp on the low-budget gore, that's for sure, and Rosalie's zombie army means business.

But how do we know that Rosalie is responsible for the zombie on elderly violence? Why, because she drew a picture of the in her sketchbook, that's how!

Yep, Rosalie's sketchbook is like a visual diary into her twisted little mind! She draws pictures of herself feeding kittens to zombies in the graveyard, then we see her feeding kittens to zombies in the graveyard. She draws a bunch of people laughing and crying around a giant book...

...and then we flashback to Mrs Nordon's funeral, where Rosalie promises something to her mother but I couldn't understand what it was exactly because of the overbearing echo effect. Those 'x'es get the point across, though- it's Rosalie's hit list- she's taking down all the people she thinks are responsible for her mother's death.

The dude in the middle of the drawing, the Asian gardener, gets a visit in his shed from Rosalie and a friend one fateful evening. The friend is actually a scarecrow wielding a shotgun, and although the gardener responds to Rosalie's accusations of "You killed my mother!" with "No! Mama crazy!", the scarecrow shoots him dead. Surprisingly enough, the glimpse we get of the scarecrow is more spooky than silly.

Alicianne finally confronts Rosalie about her midnight trips to the graveyard, but the girl insists that she only goes there to visit her mother. When Alicianne says that's impossible because her mother is "gone", Rosalie says "Gone? Gone where?" and then laughs for thirty seconds straight. Literally.

At this point, it occurs to me that perhaps Rosalie is retarded rather than telekinetic.

Halloween arrives, however, and the holiday proves once and for all that the kid has eerie mental powers. Alicianne blows out the candle in a jack-o-lantern carved by Rosalie. Then the lights go out, the candle re-lights, and the pumpkin turns to follow Alicianne as she wanders around the room...and dammit if I wasn't getting all creeped out despite myself. What can I say, it's a really effective scene.

Rosalie finally 'fesses up about her graveyard pals- they "do favors" for her because she's the only person who's not afraid of them. When these favors extend to ripping off Mr Nordon's face, Alicianne and Len decide to hightail it outta there.

Before they get far, of course, the car dies...and here come the zombies!

Len and Alicianne manage to make their way to a shed; the former works at boarding up the door while the latter stands, wrings her hands, pulls her hair, and whines a lot. The creepiest eye EVARRR peeks through a hole in the wall and the next thing you know it's time for the zombie siege- how long can Len hold them off while Alicianne remains useless?

About four minutes, that's how long. The zombies come up through the floorboards and rip off Len's face, which is apparently their MO. Then Rosalie shows up...will the brat get what's coming to her or will Alicianne still remain useless and get her face ripped off?

There's a word that keeps coming to mind when I'm talking about The Child: creepy. It really is an atmospheric, spooky little flick. Until the final siege, we only get glimpses of the zombies- peering from the bushes in a foggy cemetery, for example, or maybe a grasping hand or two. They're not fully revealed until the final ten minutes of the film, but they're totally worth the wait. The makeup is fantastic, especially considering the low budget- if anything, they remind me a bit of the undead Conquistadors in Fulci's Zombi. It's nice to see zombies that really look like rotting corpses for once, rather than regular people who have been out in the sun a bit too long.

So if The Child was so very chilling and I liked it so much (and I really did), why wasn't it "life-changing" as I'd hoped? Sure, the dialogue is weird and feels a bit like a bunch of non-sequiturs strung together, but the real culprit, in a word, is sound. Or, in several words, the sound was fucking atrocious with a capital Oh My God The Sound Was Fucking Atrocious. The entire film is dubbed and the voice acting is some of the worst I've ever heard. Add to that truly terrible sound effects, a discordant Moog-based soundtrack that's irritating and distracting beyond the first three minutes of the film, and choppy sound editing (music comes and goes from cut to cut- hell, the music even stops halfway through the end credits) and this boat is sunk before it leaves the dock. It's a real shame, too, because The Child could have been great. As it stands, this flick is primo '70s drive-in fare, and I highly recommend you seek it out. Just don't expect anything life-changing.

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?