Entries Tagged 'Reviews' ↓

If you know me- and I think you do- then you know that I love Neil Marshall's The Descent, like, a lot. It's still one of my favorite horror movies, and I don't mean it's simply a fave of the last decade...I mean it's a fave.

I was not at all excited about the prospect of a sequel, however. The Descent is a perfectly good example of a stand-alone film. It doesn't need to become a franchise, and a return trip into the crawler-riddled caves has REALLY BAD IDEA written all over it. Of course, once the DVD arrived I couldn't resist that return trip. I knew I'd hate it and it would be a stinky pile, but I had to see it. I mean, it's written into the "You're a Horror Blogger Who Wouldn't Shut Up About The Descent" code.

That's really a code, by the way.

The Descent 2 picks up moments after the end of The Descent. I'm going to simply reprint the synopsis from the film's press notes, because I'm feeling super lazy about it right now.

Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) emerges alone from the Appalachian cave system where she encountered unspeakable terrors. Unable to plausibly explain to authorities what happened- or why she's covered in her friends' blood- Sarah is forced back to the subterranean depths to help locate her five missing companions.

Now, there are a few...implausibilities and inconsistencies that you simply have to cast aside if you're to enjoy this film- particularly if you're a fan of the first movie. Would the authorities really force a traumatized victim to go spelunking? Sarah is so effed up she can barely speak- she's hardly in a competent medical state. But! Cast that aside. Fine, they take Sarah to the cave...which is apparently connected to an old mine. Where authorities are already searching for the missing cavers. In The Descent, it was made to seem that the cave was rather far away from everything- that it was completely uncharted and no one knew of its existence...and no one knew the women were going to be there, because Juno misled everyone. But! Cast that all aside.



Sarah and a rescue team head into the caves...and, as you might expect, the crawlers are still there, and they're still mean. We see what ends were met (or perhaps were not met) by Sarah's friends as their bodies are found. There's a cave-in and yeah, a good portion of The Descent 2 is simply a rehash of The Descent- only the faces and, in some cases, the genitalia have changed.

However, despite this and despite my inclination to dislike it- dammit, I really enjoyed The Descent 2. There are some fantastic sequences with just as much tension as you'll find in the first, and director Jon Harris, who edited The Descent, induces feelings of claustrophobia quite well. Though Neil Marshall's effort certainly didn't lack for gore at all, the sequel is much, much bloodier.


Again, the film is not without its problems- most egregious, perhaps, is that Shauna MacDonald isn't given much to do as Sarah. She transforms from traumatized victim to hardened badass quickly, but the film is more concerned with action than with plot. After Sarah's really fucking bad year, I think she deserved a bit more as a character than the occasional glower.

Overall, I was pleasantly quite surprised with The Descent 2. While it won't make my list of all-time faves next to its predecessor, I'd eagerly watch it again...although I'd turn it off before the very end, which really made no fucking sense whatsoever.



Hooray, everyone's favorite Designer Imposter film production company is back! Yes, The Asylum has birthed into the world Paranormal Entity, their rip-off of the runaway hit Paranormal Activity. Actually, "rip-off" is really too light a term to use here- writer/director/star Shane Van Dyke has straight-up pulled sound effects and shots and plot points from Oren Peli's work.

What does this "found footage" flick has to offer that Paranormal Activity doesn't is a bit more story. The Finley family is being terrorized by an unseen force that may or may not be the spirit of their recently-deceased patriarch. The spirit is particularly interested in Samantha (Erin Marie Hogan), presumably because she wears cleavage-revealing tops and sleeps in her undies.

Oh yeah, Paranormal Entity also features invisible demon rape, so...you know. There's that.

Surprisingly enough, the film has a few genuine scares- both of the shock variety and of the creepy hairs-on-yer-neck variety. Make no mistake, though- it's vastly inferior to Activity...and if you didn't like that (or if you dislike P.O.V. films in general), you're bound to equate this with pure torture. Though P.O.V. films are cheap to produce (Activity, after all, is rumored to have cost under 15k), Paranormal Entity manages to make cheap filmmaking look CHEAP. The "night vision" doesn't look like night vision as much as it looks like a green tint was applied to the footage, and the Finley house is clearly a "demo" house, one a realtor might show. Drawers are empty, the fridge is barren, and the sparse decor looks straight outta the home furnishings department at TJ Maxx. It renders the entire affair inauthentic- not that it ever smacked of realism whatsoever, but still.

All that said, it's quite possibly the best film I've seen from The Asylum. I'm not sure what that's worth, exactly, but there you go.



Birdemic is the most enjoyable piece of crap I've ever seen in all my 63 years. It is truly the best worst movie ever made: and yes, I'm counting Troll 2 and Plan 9 from Outer Space and yes- yes! Even my beloved Shark Attack 3: Megalodon. You could not make a movie this bad if you tried your very, very hardest. No one will ever make a movie this bad again. It's not possible. The laws of science will not allow it. I'm telling you: you think you've seen the worst movie ever made...but unless you've seen Birdemic, you haven't. It's that wonderfully atrocious.

Yes, the writing and directing and acting and oh my crap those special effects combine to create a perfect storm of awful...but Birdemic goes deeper than that. Birdemic fucks with your brain.

See, it's not just bad writing. The dialogue has a weird feel to it, as if it was originally written in a language other than English, then run through Babelfish. It's...off-kilter. There are non sequiturs in almost every conversation. If you have a chance to hear writer/director James Nguyen in an interview, you'll undertand that weird feel: all the characters are obviously him.

It's not just bad directing. Every shot goes on and on. And on. An on-screen conversation will end, but the camera will not cut. The shot will continue until you feel uncomfortable, until you know for sure it will end- and then it lasts ten more seconds.

The acting is so bad that it defies logic. The best actors in the world- in the history of mankind- could not hope to emulate performances this poor.

The effects are...I cannot adequately describe them. They make SyFy channel CGI crapfests look like Avatar. This is clip art come alive!



Go. Go see this movie if you have a chance. If you enjoy bad movies on any level- any level at all- then you owe it to yourself to see Birdemic. You owe it to your children, and your childrens' children. Seeing this movie may be the reason why you were put on this Earth.

But! Don't you dare see it alone. See it in a theatre if you can- like herpes, Birdemic is best when it's shared. If you have to wait for DVD, invite everyone you know to a viewing. You won't regret it. Or maybe you will...I don't know, I don't lead your life.

Man, the movies I need to review have been pilin' up and pilin' up- so much so that I'm afraid of the pile. How can I dig myself out from under it? How can I dig myself out when it keeps growing? When I feel such désespoir du blog, I should remember my mantra: what would Arbogast do? He would cook up a fresh batch of Arbogast minis, that's what he would do. Now, I can't call these Arbogast minis, and calling them minis of any variety feels gauche. Therefore, I will call these Short Reviews. That there's poetry, I know. Don't be intimidated!



Art student Jiney (Race Wong) is bored with her work. She carries her camera around dutifully, but can't find inspiration in her surroundings. One afternoon she witnesses a fatal car accident and impulsively photographs a dead body- the thrill of capturing the delicate moments between life and death awaken a new passion. She moves on to photographing dead animals, going so far as to orchestrate their bloody demises at the butcher shop- as the cleaver chops harder and faster, Jiney furiously clicks the shutter.


Boundaries of taste, already strained to the breaking point, are obliterated when she captures a suicidal woman's plummet from rooftop to sidewalk. Though she thrives on the adrenaline rush, Jiney is troubled by all the death surrounding her- she begins to hallucinate. The model in her painting class begins to bleed- is this a manifestation of Jiney's guilt over dabbling in the macabre, or is Ab-Normal beauty going to turn into Shutter? Is this a cameras steal souls and the ghosts want revenge flick? I mean, it is an Asian horror film, after all, so it must feature vengeful ghosts, right?


Nope. That adrenaline rush that Jiney feels is like that provided by any other drug or extreme behavior; she becomes desensitized and she must push herself further in order to feel anything at all. You know how it is- you get hooked on the giddy feeling from a glass of Riunite, so you drink a glass every day. When a glass isn't enough to make you giddy, you start downing a bottle a day. When that no longer works, you chase that bottle of Riunite with a box of Franzia. When, after all that, you still remember that your life is a complete fuck-up, you drink everything in the house to ease the pain, right down to that jug of Jean Naté After Bath Splash your gramma gave you when you were 8 but for some reason it's still sitting at the back of your closet.

Umm. Anyway.

So, when Jiney brandishes a butcher knife during a photo session with a friend, you think maybe Ab-Normal Beauty will become that kind of movie and Jiney is going to go around killing people for the art of it all.

But it's not. As memories resurface and we learn more about Jiney, the film becomes something else altogether, something more compelling than the two movies it could have been, something with a bit more substance. I love that the ride didn't end up where I thought it was going to, and that the twists and turns of the narrative weren't cheap or present simply for the (unshocking) shock value of a twist.

With Ab-Normal Beauty (Sei mong se jun, 2004), the Pang Brothers have outdone themselves with regards to style. The film- virtually every frame- is so beautiful that I want to eat it. I wouldn't even bother with condiments- that's how delicious it looks. At times the film may be a little too stylish for its own good- some music cues don't really jive with the action, and the climax is almost too murky to enjoy but sakes alive, they know how to work the frame.


Oh, Human Centipede. You're perhaps the most anticipated film in recent memory, solely based on your freakshow concept. An eeeevil surgeon grafts victims' asses to other victims' mouths to fulfill his insane vision: to create a human centipede...say whaaaaat? I think reactions to the concept went something like this: "Gross!" That "gross" was then followed by "Why?" The answer to the second reaction, according to writer/director Tom Six, is essentially the first reaction: it's a gross concept, so he made a movie out of it.

Unfortunately, The Human Centipede is little more than a gross concept. That concept, of course, is revealed when you read a synopsis or watch the trailer...so what is there to expect when the big reveal occurs long before you begin watching the film? Where can the movie go from, well, from showing the centipede? Sadly, it doesn't really go anywhere. Half an hour in you get your centipede, and then it all just sits there. Or rather, sometimes it sits there and sometimes it's made to crawl around. Regardless, not much happens.


Now, I don't think people are clamoring to see this movie because they think it's going to be some deep meditation on man's place in the universe or something. Let's face it- The Human Centipede appeals to that part of us- or, at least, that part of some of us- that wants to see something gross. A movie featuring asses attached to mouths and shared digestive tracts has to be disgusting, right? Like, the most shocking thing you've ever seen? Or, at least, the most shocking thing you've ever seen that's fiction, I guess I should say. I've seen about 20 seconds of 2 Girls, 1 Cup. I learned my lesson, and I think that my lingering childhood curiosity about gross things has been put to rest forever.

As such, I was happy to find The Human Centipede surprisingly tame. There's a bit of surgery, a bit of pus, and...not much else. It's not explicit in the least- rather, it's all implied. How this affects your enjoyment of the film (if "enjoyment" is the right word) is, of course, your bag, baby.

Without the expected shocks, though, what is there? Not much beyond some bad acting and a ridiculously over-the-top performance from Dieter Laser (best name ever) as evil Doktor Heiter. It had some enjoyable moments, but overall...well, who knew that ass-to-mouth could be so damn dull?


When Turistas hit in 2006, hot on the heels of Eli Roth's Hostel, I blew it off as...well, as a copycat of Hostel. "Torture porn" movies were en vogue, and frankly that ridiculously-named subgenre doesn't much appeal to me. However, the movie ended up on IFC recently and, I decided to give it a go- partially due to a "Why the hell not?" frame of mind and partially due to the fact that Olivia Wilde is in it. Even if it's the worst movie in the world, it's worth watching because come on you guys, she's so fucking pretty. Lucky me, it's not the worst movie in the world! In fact, I thought it was better than not the worst in the world- I kind of dug it.

To generalize, the horror community bitches an awful lot- mostly justified- about the vapidity of the genre's current output, about slickness of the retreads and rehashes, about how content seems to be dictated by boardrooms. Back in the day, horror filmmakers had something to say, dammit, about race relations and religion and society- all those Masters of Horror gave us substance with our scares, and why isn't anyone doing that today? It's all music videos and video games.

However, Turistas got me thinking (and talking with Heidi) about whether or not that complaint- that there's no relevance to these films- is true. There are undeniably themes explored in horror films made since September 11, 2001. Filmmakers are exploring the idea of "American vs Other" as countless groups of American ninnies travel to foreign lands and inevitably run afoul of the locals. Sometimes it's because the Americans have fucked up, and sometimes it's because...well, those foreigners are just plain savages, how do you expect them to treat outsiders? This sort of thing would never happen in the states! Obviously, I haven't done any in-depth analyzing of any of these movies, and I haven't yet figured out which side of the fence each particular film lies. Still, it's difficult not to notice a trend, and I think post-9/11 horror is worth exploring- films like Hostel, Turistas, Live Feed, Vinyan, Dying Breed, and The Human Centipede all apply. This isn't news, necessarily, but I'm just saying- maybe hindsight will reveal that some horror filmmakers have, at the least, intent where it was assumed there was none.

Mind you, I know that intent doesn't necessarily make a movie good, or render a horror movie effective. n this light, how was Turistas? Well, I said I kind of dug it. It's not nearly as torture-heavy as I'd anticipated. I'm not sure quite what it wants to be, if that makes sense- the "horror" aspects of the film take up very little of the running time, and there's an awful lot of "character development" time that doesn't actually develop any characters. The affair is helped by the serviceable acting from Wilde, Josh Duhamel, and, in particular, Melissa George. She's quietly becoming an unsung hero of indie horror, to the point where I'll pick something up if her name is on it. Why doesn't anyone ever talk about her?

Mmm, there's nothing quite like a Hammer film from the studio's prime- particularly their vampire movies. Particularly particularly their lesbian vampire movies: all flowy, diaphanous gowns, ruffled collars, misty graveyards, heaving bosoms, and fangs fangs fangs. In 1970, director Roy Ward Baker brought the world The Vampire Lovers, the first film in what would become known as The Karnstein Trilogy. As horror films moved into the age of grindhouse cinema, Hammer tried to keep up by upping the more salacious aspects of their films. Though it may seem rather tame by current standards (these kids today, I swear), The Vampire Lovers was daring in its portrayal of lesbian lust and bare breasts, providing some of the most explicit scenes in any English-language film for the time.

The Vampire Lovers is, as you might expect, based on J. Sheridan Le Fanu's novella Carmilla; sure, practically every lesbian vampire movie says it's based on Carmilla, but The Vampire Lovers keeps close to the source material.

There's not to the film much in terms of plot: the Karnsteins were a wicked wicked vampire family, and they've been wiped out, save Marcilla. Err, Mircalla. Make that Carmilla. At any rate, it's Ingrid fucking Pitt, and she likes pretty young things. With the help of her "Aunt", the mysterious Countess (Dawn Addams), Carmilla ends up staying with the families of these innocent lasses; inevitably, the girls become infatuated with Carmilla. As their infatuations grow, however, they become weaker and weaker. Before long, the girls are dead and Carmilla/Marcilla/Mircalla is long gone.


There are a few concepts at work that set The Vampire Lover apart from its fellow lesbian vampire flicks. First, there's that moniker, "lesbian vampire"- though that's the familiar term for the subgenre, it's actually quite rare when the vampire in question is actually a lesbian. For the sake of, perhaps, palatability with mainstream audiences, the women are often bisexual- particularly in films from decades ago. Pitt's Carmilla, however, strictly joneses for the ladies, a remarkably progressive idea in 1970. She fake-out seduces a few men with kisses, only to kill them quickly so they're out of her way...but she falls in love- and in bed- with the girls.

Yes, Carmilla falls in love! There are more than a few unexplained concepts at work in The Vampire Lovers (for example, who the hell is the laughing vampire on horseback?), but Carmilla's motivations are clear: when she falls for a lady, she wants to be with her forever. Unfortunately, she's one of the undead and therefore destroys the very things she loves when she gives in to her primal urges. She slowly drains the life from her beloved until they've passed and she's forced to find a new family and a new victim. Silly Carmilla, a happily-ever-after is rare for the cinematic lesbian- and it's never in the cards for a lesbian vampire. Sad, sad. She just wants love! She can't help it that she gets bite-crazy.

As this is a Hammer Studios vampire film, you'd be right to expect that the bloodsucker's reign of terror is brought to an end by Peter Cushing. Here, he's no Van Helsing, though- he's General von Spielsdorf, and he seeks to avenge his daughter Laura, who died after falling under "Marcilla"'s spell (and teeth).


There's far more romance than horror at work in The Vampire Lovers, and that's just fine- again, this is primo Hammer output, more old country vampire vibe than anything else. Mind you, I dig that sort of thing, movies that feature superstitious villagers clutching bouquets of garlic flowers and making the sign of the cross. Still, Roy Ward Baker knows how to squeeze every drop of atmosphere out of the lush country settings, and he doesn't skimp on the fang-baring. Or the breast-baring, if that matters to you. One of my favorite shots in the film is this, which is oh-so-very Nosferatu.

You know, even if I wanted to become a lesbian vampire later in life (or...unlife or afterlife or whatever), Carmilla/Mircalla/Marcilla has taught me that I'd need a better name than "Stacie". First of all, it's not very old world seductive. Second, how many alias anagrams can I get out of that? Cietas? Tascie? No right-minded young lass or kind-hearted Generals would fall for those!

Ha ha ha, see what I did with the post title? I bet you're thinking "Oh no, she's going to write about sports!" Well, guess again, sucker! The balls in question are actually the Sentinel Spheres of the Phantasm series, the shiny silver orbs that zip around at The Tall Man's behest, merrily lobotomizing victims with a drill as they go. Ha ha ha, I made a joke!

All of this leads me to Phantasm IV: Oblivion (1998), or, in the interests of streamlining, Phantasm OblIVion. At any rate, it's the last film in the series which pits The Tall Man (Angus Scrimm) and his trandimension dwarf labor force against a bunch of regular dudes. Or former regular dudes, I guess I should say. Quoth the Reggie, "I was an ice cream vendor by trade. Now I'm a soldier."

I haven't seen Phantasm parts II or III. I know...I know. The original 1979 has always been good enough for me- while I think the supremely creepy Tall Man is a worthy villain, I never felt the need to check out his further adventures. Slasher movies lend themselves best to the franchise treatment; the killers have a story but not to much story, and it's rather inconsequential anyway. Change the setting from film to film, perhaps, line up some characters for the kill, and repeat ad nauseum. Don Coscarelli, however, crafted a nearly perfect little slice of surrealist horror that leaves viewers reeling. Questions are raised and there's plenty of room for thought and discussion when it's over, but the movie is completely satisfying as an isolated experience.

So why am I jumping straight into the fourth film in the series? Well, because I found the tape for a buck. What're you gonna do, you know?

The "same ol' same ol'" approach of slasher franchises means that viewers jumping around in the series chronology won't be confused for long, if, in fact, they are at all. "Oh, Jason's dead now? No wait, he's alive. He's in New York? Okay. No wait, he's in space." In other words, it doesn't take long to catch up. Although I must say, I can't for the life of me remember if it's ever explained how Jason went from getting melted by toxic sludge in a Manhattan sewer to...wherever he was at the beginning of Jason Goes to Hell. Did that film start in New York? Bah, best not to waste precious brain power!

Unfortunately, Phantasm IV doesn't follow the rules associated with any subgenre and thus it was pretty confusing most of the time. As best as I can figure, Reggie (Reggie Bannister), Mike (A. Michael Baldwin), and Jody (Bill Thornbury) spent the duration of Parts II and III going head to head and/or toe to toe with The Tall Man. Jody got smooshed down and transformed into one of those infamous spheres, as was the fate of his brother Mike. The process got interrupted somehow, and now Reggie and Mike are...driving somewhere. Separately. To do something. And Mike is, like, half-man, half-ball. This means that sometimes he has balleyes instead of eyeballs. SPHERES.

Mike has stolen The Tall Man's magic hearsemobile, which drives him out into the middle of Death Valley. There, he fights an transdimensional dwarf here and there, and I learn two things: 1) when scuttling around the never-ending tan landscape of Death Valley in their brown robes, transdimensional dwarves are not at all unlike the Jawas from Star Wars, and 2) it's best that we never see the faces of the transdimensional dwarves, because they look not at all unlike brown versions of that Ghoulie who busts out of the toilet on the cover of Ghoulies. As Phantasm proved decades before Part IV, less is so much more.


Reggie has lots of fightin' to do as well, on the road to find Mike. He's pulled over by a cop who's not actually a cop, but a...I don't know, some kind of skinless monster posing as a cop. Rather than just walk up to Reggie's car and kill him, the not-a-cop goes through an elaborate ruse wherein he takes Reggie's license and registration back to his cruiser. This ruse and the eventual battle serve to allow Reggie plenty of time to work in lots of cheesy action-hero one liners. After all, he's a soldier now, not some hippy guitar-playing ice cream man!

Thanks to a series of contrivances I can't be bothered to explain, Reggie ends up in bed with some random ex-stripper. Then this happens:

So, you know. There's that.

Mike finds one of those giant tuning forks/dimensional gateways out on the salt flats; he steps through it and lands back in a time before The Tall Man was The Tall Man. His name was Jedediah, and he was "obsessed with death". Then somehow he builds a steampunk machine and dimensional gateway and gets evil and turns everyone he meets into a Sentinel Sphere or a dwarf slave and we don't know why he decides to do any of this or how he does it or even why he's obsessed with death or anything at all it's all just explained half-assedly meaning it's not explained at all which means I'm way more confused than I was as a wee Final Girl back in 1979 and run-on sentence arrrrrgh.

Phantasm works because you get what's going on, but not what's really going on or why it's going on and that's FINE. The movie is more about feeling than about reasoning, and when that works in a movie it's magic. Phantasm IV expands the mythos of The Tall Man into...well, into nothingness. Fine, he used to be Jedediah. Then he walked through the tuning fork and became The Tall Man. ...okay? What do I do with that? I mean, if you're going to open that can of worms and try to explain, then fucking EXPLAIN. Why does he need to have a transdimensional dwarf labor force? What happened that turned him evil and gave him all sorts of powers? For that matter, why didn't Sphere Tits kill Reggie the moment she saw him, rather than trying to do so hours and hours later? Was she a monster, or was she possessed? Oh Lady in Lavender, I miss you so!

Mind you, everything could be laid out plain as day in Parts II and III. That would be swell. Perhaps I'll find out, so long as they don't cost more than a buck.

Oh, and about 95% of this movie takes place in and around cars. Of the remaining 5%, 3% is unused footage from 1979, forced into awkward "Hey, remember that time...?" flashbacks.

Also, it seems that there is room in a human skull for both a fully-functioning brain AND a full-size Sentinel Sphere.

Also, you can apparently build a nearly-fully-functioning Sentinel Sphere from your carburetor.

Also, boo Phantasm IV. BOO I SAY.

When I bought a VHS copy of The Birds II: Land's End (1994) for a dollar, I was pumped. Not only was it, you know, a dollar, but this wholly unnecessary sequel has the reputation of being a big pile. "It's supposed to be terrible," I told a friend. "I can't wait!" She thought that was an odd reason to buy and/or look forward to a film, and on the one hand I agree: I mean, I do want horror movies to be good. On the other hand, though, bad animals run amok movies are my soulmates. Directing duties on The Birds II are attributed to Alan Smithee, which had me even more excited. In case you don't know, "Alan Smithee" is a pseudonym used by directors who want to disavow any involvement with the film s/he directed for reasons that, per the rules of the Director's Guild, cannot be disclosed. The man behind the Smithee in the case of The Birds II is Rick Rosenthal, who also helmed Halloween II. Use of the pseudonym was abolished in 2000, and frankly that's the only reason I can think of why Rosenthal wouldn't use it to distance himself from the abysmal Halloween: Resurrection, which he wrought upon the world in 2002. But! That's neither here nor there.

Ohhhhhh how I want to punch Halloween: Resurrection in its stupid Michael Myers Dot Com face despite the Katee Sackhoff and Busta Rhymes-ness of it.

Sorry, it's just that Resurrection is one of those movies that makes my blood pressure rise. For the good of both my health and staying on topic, I should really start talking about The Birds II.

The film begins as an official-looking man pulls a bird of the water that looks like a leftover from the Exxon Valdez disaster. He gets out some official-looking beakers and vials and starts to do some science, but he's interrupted by a brutal bird attack. They take his eyes and his dignity as action music blares; the music and the copious blood remind us that we're not in Hitchcock territory anymore. Of course, you may have assumed that from the start.

Brad Johnson stars as Ted, patriarch of what is surely the most irritating family ever to walk the Earth. His wife May (Chelsea Field) is alternately angry and insipid. Their daughters Something Starts With 'J' #1 and Something Starts With 'J' #2 are straight-up brats. They fight, call each other names, and bitch about having to spend time at an old house on the beach at Land's End. Even the dog in this family is annoying. Really, Ted is the only one who's fairly tolerable, and that's because he spends most of his time quietly moping about their son who died five years ago. At any rate, they're all at Land's End on some sort of "work vacation" for mom and dad. The "How was your day?" questions and the incessant whining of the girls were a constant reminder that family life is a fucking drag.

Look, I'm gonna save both of us a lot of time. A bunch of nothing happens, and then the birds get frisky. They start dive-bombing people here and there, scratching a forehead or biting some hair. Ted thinks is this wholly unnatural behavior and he should know- he's a high school biology teacher. He tries to warn the Mayor that something hinky is going on, but in typical politician in an animals run amok movie fashion, the Mayor won't do anything about it because doing so may negatively affect the town's Fishing Industry Parade Festival and economy. However, two people believe Ted: a weird old dude who live in a lighthouse, and Tippi Hedren. Well, not Tippi Hedren, exactly, but rather Helen, the character she plays. That's right, Tippi Hedren is in The Birds II, and she's not portraying Melanie Daniels. I hate when that happens.

The birds increase their numbers and get more and more bold. Flocks of them enter The Ted Family's home (sorry, they don't have a last name) and make with the pecking and the scratching and the nom nom nomming. They cut the phone line and the power, and the scene is not at all unlike the siege scene you've seen in any number of zombie movies- it was rather Night of the Living Dead, actually. There's a bitchin' dog vs. bird fight, and later the weird old dude falls from the lighthouse sans eyes after a bird attack.

In typical politician in an animals run amok movie fashion, the Mayor learns too late that the threat is REAL- like, he finally gets it when hundreds of birds take on hundreds of people near the marina. He tries to assemble a shotgun-wielding posse, but it's an idea that was doomed from the start. The Ted Family takes a little boat in an attempt to get back to the mainland, but then the birds take off and try to beat them to it. The (abrupt) end.

Now, I realize I haven't made the best case for The Birds II: Land's End here. Surely Rick Rosenthal's use of "Alan Smithee" doesn't make a good case for it, and neither do the ubiquitous reviews that give it 1.5 stars at most. I got it expressly because I thought it was going to be terrible, and yet...I did not find it to be terrible. Why is this? Hmm. It's a question I've been pondering since I rewound the tape. Earlier that that, perhaps, for even as the birds were doing their thing, I found myself shocked at the fact that what I was watching wasn't making me laugh or want to kill myself.

Is it because mere days ago I saw Birdemic: Shock and Terror, surely the worst movie ever created, and now I've gone numb? This may be a part of it, especially considering the fact that both movies are about [SPOILER ALERT] birds.

Aside: I'm going to write about Birdemic, but I'm not sure exactly what yet, nor am I sure where the writing will end up. I will say this much: if it ends up at a theater near you, GO. You think Troll 2 is the worst movie ever? Think again. You know how I've thought for YEARS that Shark Attack 3: Megalodon is as amazingly good as bad movies get? I WAS WRONG. There's a new King.

Aside Over: On the other hand, there's no denying that The Birds II isn't actually much good. There's far more melodrama and talk than action, but still- I found that enjoyable in a made-for-TV sort of way. I was most pleased at the fact that the birds were not made out of computer. Imagine that! Animals run amok movies may be more popular than ever thanks to the schlock churned out by the SyFy Channel, but I get tired of the CGI-ness of it all. These were real honest-to-goodness birds a-peckin' and a-flappin', and I was thankful for it.

Because I am really in the minority regarding the merits of The Birds II, I can't really recommend it: after all, your brain not be as soft as mine apparently is right now. Honestly, I hope Birdemic has ruined all moviekind for me, raising my tolerance for crap to the point where everything is shrugged off with a casual "Well, it wasn't as bad as Birdemic..." I don't know, I might be way too forgiving of animals run amok movies for a time. We'll just have to wait and see. I know enough, however, to say that I realize The Birds II isn't good, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it...and that's okay. A dollar well spent, I say!

You know what people love? People love Jack Hill's Spider Baby. It's got a certain something something that appeals to the monster kid in all of us (yes, I'm speaking for all of us). It's not just a movie one admires, hates, or feels decidedly "meh" about; no, Spider Baby (1968) is a movie you want to hug. What can I say? I do so love a family of homicidal cuckoo nutsos.

The cuckoo nutsos are the Merrye clan, consisting of siblings Ralph (Sid Haig), Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn), and Virginia (Jill Banner). The Merrye "kids" suffer from a genetic disorder that causes mental deterioration over the course of a lifetime. They're adults but they act like children; well, children who are into rape and murder and stuff. Their exaggerated innocence belies their violent tendencies- they'll smile sweetly one moment and stab you viciously the next. Those Merryes, they're so unpredictable!

Their chauffeur and guardian Bruno (Lon Chaney, Jr.) is well aware of their condition, how it's eventually going to render the siblings feral. He keeps them tucked away from society, up in the Merrye mansion on the hill. It's not unlike the Bates residence in Psycho; it would be a nice enough home in most circumstances, but here- untended and isolated- it simply looms menacingly over everything below. It's the kind of place that haunts neighborhood kids, the kind that makes them dare one another to go knock on the door. Adults know to stay away.

Unfortunately, deliverymen must do their jobs. When one (Mantan Moreland) comes a-knockin' and "Uncle Bruno" isn't home, the Merryes are left to their own devious devices. Virginia plays her "spider game" (it involves a lot of poking with knives) and ends up with one of the delivery man's ears to keep and call her own.

Distant relatives Peter (Quinn Redeker) and Emily (Carol Ohmart) show up at the Merrye manse with a lawyer in tow, hoping to prove the children mentally unstable and seize the family residence and money. It would certainly not be a difficult task for Peter and Emily to prove their case, but unfortunately Bruno loses control of the children. Overnight, events quickly spiral out of control and the Merryes' visitors end up traumatized and/or dead. Realizing that their isolated life on the hill is no longer a possibility, Bruno does what anyone would do: he blows 'em all up, ending the Merrye Syndrome once and for all. But is it really over? Mua ha ha.

So just what is it about Spider Baby that everyone loves so much? Perhaps it's that Spider Baby is a film that's truly the sum of its parts. It works as a gothic nightmare movie- from the cobwebs in the basement to the dead daddy kept upstairs to the feral relatives living below the basement to the idiot man-child lurking in the dumb waiter, Spider Baby is downright creepy at times. There's no denying its obvious influence on films such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, House of 1000 Corpses, and even Hell Night. The loving family of killers who mind their own business until you intrude on their turf have become a horror movie staple (too much so, in fact: if I never see another modern "crazed cannibal family" movie again, I'll be happy), but in the late-60s they were still a frightening novelty.

Then there's the undercurrent of eroticism running through the film. As Emily, Carol Ohmart turns in a performance that screams "broad"- and believe me, I mean that in the best possible way. Maybe it's her hair, peroxided within an inch of its life, or maybe it's her random dance in black lingerie...whatever it is, Emily is all no-nonsense, worldly-wise sex appeal.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is young Virginia, the girl who emulates and consumes bugs, captivating her victims with both a sexuality that's more deliberate than she'd have you believe, and some good old-fashioned rope. Everybody who watches Spider Baby comes away from it in love with Virginia. Yes, I'm once again speaking for everybody.

Of course, you can't talk about this film without talking about the humor. Well, you can, but you'd be neglecting a large part of its charm. The opening credits, featuring a "Monster Mash"-style theme song sung by Chaney himself, clue us in that we're going to have fun with these kooky cannibals. And we do: they crack jokes and even bizarrely mug at the camera. It all works so well thanks to the performances. Everyone dives into his or her role with complete abandon and glee; the Merryes are hilariously over-the-top, while Chaney turns in a surprisingly heartfelt performance as their kindly, long-suffering caretaker. There's an Addams Family vibe to the entire affair, and in the end we're left to wonder who's more horrifying: the sadistic, murderous family on the hill, or their greedy, square, city-dwelling relatives.

This film lingered in limbo from 1964 (its production year) 'til it was finally released in 1968. By that time, black and white films were becoming a thing of the past, as if from an era that was quickly being left behind. Spider Baby withered on the vine (or web, or what have you), a flop during its initial run. As often happens, though, it was resurrected decades later and is now one of those "cult" movies the kids go on and on about these days. I'm going to speak for everybody one last time: Spider Baby is all sorts of awesome.
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From Midnight, With Love
The Verdant Dude
Dark Romance
United Monkee
Less Than 3 Film
The Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense
The Trunk that Dripped Blood
Hey! Look Behind You!
The Hallucenogenic Toreador
Acidemic Film
The Horror Section
emma blackwood
Kill Everybody in the Whole World
Eve Tushnet
Things That Don't Suck
In the Garden of the Death Orchid
Good Old Fashioned Nightmare Fuel
Pussy Goes Grrr
Catalogue of Curiosities

Click to embiggen!







I realize I didn't mention the awesome musical interlude, or the fact that in the end, Professor Johnny Longbow kills Lizard Paul, who "explodes"- meaning, the screen turns red. What can I say? I start these comics and then they end up in a different place than I'd originally intended. C'est la something something.

I did, however, write about my favorite scene from this film and how much it affected me when I was a dumb kid over at Mermaid Heather...so, you know, you can read that if you want to.

Fabrice Du Welz's Vinyan (2008) seems to have a polarizing affect on audiences...or at least that's my opinion after reading two wildly divergent reviews of it. Even after scoping out those reviews, I knew little of the film beyond its basic premise...and with critics drawing Cola Wars-style lines in the sand, I was nervous. Would I like it? Would I hate it? Would people like me if I liked it? Or hated it? Would watching it make me smarter or prettier? I tells ya, it had me on the edge of the edge of my seat.

Here's that basic premise I told you about: Six months after losing her son Joshua in a tsunami, Jeanne Bellmer (Emmanuelle Béart) thinks she spots the boy in a video about Burmese orphans. Her husband Paul (Rufus Sewell) thinks she's seeing only what she wants to see, but eventually agrees that they should investigate because...well, what if it's him?

The couple pays massive amounts of money to the shady Thaksin Gao (Petch Osathanugrah), who says that white children have been spotted amongst the orphans. He promises to find their son, so Jeanne and Paul board a boat with Gao and head from Thailand into Burmese waters. When leads prove false, Gao promises that just a little more money will get them closer, that Joshua is surely in the next village. Paul and Jeanne argue over whether or not they're simply being bilked; Jeanne's desperation eventually puts the entire party in terrible danger deep in the Burmese jungle.

That's really all I want to say about Vinyan in terms of plot- and to be honest, not much actually happens in the film. That seems to be the biggest complaint viewers have with the film- that we're constantly waiting for something- some big action sequence, some plot twist...something. Anything. The audience has expectations that need to be met, dammit, but Du Welz refuses to play by the rules. Still, people who are disappointed by the lack of "big moments" in Vinyan have a valid point- in fact, it's probably going to make or break the film for them.

As for me, I loved it. As detractors have noted, it may be a bit sluggish in the midsection (aren't we all?), it may be anemic in the soul department, and it may be pretentious- but Vinyan is all about the journey rather than the destination. And what a journey it is; as this post title indicates, I find that the journey is the destination.

The cinematography by Benoit Debie is a knockout. Every frame screams "art", albeit art heavily drenched in dread. The color-soaked streets Jeanne and Paul trudge through are as frightening as the rain-soaked jungle is later on; both are strange and otherworldly, full of grabbing hands and a distinct sense of the uncanny. Terror seems to lurk on the fringes, always just out of sight. The visuals of Vinyan are bolstered by the true star of the show: the sound design. The movie's abstract opening features almost music that builds and evolves into sorta gibberish- from the get-go, it's terribly unsettling and it doesn't let up.

Du Welz isn't afraid to let a moment hang...and hang...and hang. One particular scene comes to mind, and it's a simple one: the boat the Bellmers have hired slowly approaches shore and comes to dock. It seems to take forever, and the tension is almost unbearable. The jungle is shrouded in a heavy mist, the humidity palpable; the only sound is the steady knocking of the boat's engine- and then there are the noises coming from land. Much like those at the beginning, the noises are indecipherable. Are they animal? Human? We know something is there, waiting for the Bellmers, and again: Vinyan is nothing but dread.

Though Béart and Sewell turn in riveting performances (Béart, in particular, perfectly embodies a haunted, hollow desperation), I would have liked to know more about Jeanne and Paul. Despite all they go through, despite their obvious grief, there's an odd disconnect there which prevents their journey from becoming one I could truly care about. Grief, particularly that of a mother, is a time-tested trope in horror films, from Don't Look Now to The Haunting of Julia to...hell, Friday the 13th. We certainly feel for the couple and we know they're in pain, but we only get glimpses of what their lives have become without Joshua. We know virtually nothing of their lives were like before he was gone.

There's an ambiguity to the film that I enjoyed- how much of this is really happening? Are the Bellmers drawn to the island by a supernatural being or force? This line, after all, can't simply be happenstance:

When someone dies a horrible death, their spirit becomes confused and angry. It becomes...Vinyan.

Are there spirits loose in the jungle, or are we simply witnessing a grieving mother's dehydration-fueled descent into madness? Is Joshua still alive, a lost boy victim to nature and human traffickers? Again, Du Welz ignores the rules. If concrete answers are your thing, you may find yourself across that line in the sand from me. Don't worry, though- we can still be friends.

When I posted on my Facebook page that I had to watch Rob Zombie's Halloween II, I got little but warnings and advanced condolences. Everyone told me I'd be really sorry if I indulged; you know: it was two hours of my life I'd never get back, I could never un-see it, I'd be better off lighting babies and/or myself on fire...okay, maybe not that last one. But still, the collective "Do not do!"s from my fake cyber-friends made me feel that watching H2 would be akin to marching off to war without a gun or body armor or even a face: I'd get my body and soul crushed in what would inevitably be a losing battle. To put it mildly, undertaking a viewing seemed to be a foolish endeavor, but it had to be done. And yes, like a soldier headed off to war (or a nogoodnik heading off to the Big House), I spent my last 24 hours of freedom in a drunken stupor, cavorting with hookers and eating cake. Isn't that how they do things?

Anyway, given these warnings and my unabashed dislike of Zombie's Halloween, I was positively dreading the experience. DREADING IT I SAY. And? Well, I made it through. I'm still here. Maybe it's the booze or the prosties or the cake talking, but...it wasn't quite as bad as I'd anticipated.

Whoa whoa whoa! Put away your torches and pitch forks and hot oil treatments (the bad, not-for-hair kind) and everything else in your Angry Mob Emergency Kit- I didn't say I liked it. I didn't even say I didn't hate it. It's just that I anticipated a Hallocaust of epic proportions and when all was said and done, I've seen much worse. I've seen much worse recently, in fact (hey The Unborn, you can still go fuck yourself).

Halloween II opens with a placard explaining the symbolic meaning of a white horse. From this, we can infer two things: 1) Rob Zombie bought a dream dictionary, and 2) Rob Zombie thinks his audience is stupid. Why else would he feel the need to blatantly and literally define his metaphor? Can't we figure it out on our own? Why, some of horror's greatest films and directors know it's better to show than to tell. It's not as if Stanley Kubrick needed to expound on what mazes are all about before The Shining began; likewise, viewers are left to their own devices in deciphering the deeper meaning behind all the steering wheels and throttles in Shark Attack 3: Megalodon. But this is Halloween II, and as such it needs Sheri Moon Zombie...and as such it needs a dubious reason for her inclusion.

Before she becomes the Ghost and Mrs. Muir of Mrs. Myers, there's a flashback to young Michael's sanitarium days- I guess to remind us that the boy had a healthy relationship with his mother, that he was in control of his faculties, and that this version of Michael is not the abstract embodiment of "pure evil" as he was in John Carpenter's original film. Oh well. When Michael tells mom about his dreams of a white horse (I WONDER WHAT IT MEANS), she tells him to "Cheer up- no more gloom!" He doesn't listen to her, and I guess that's why a lot of people end up dead...dun dun dunnnn...15 years later.

We jump through time to the moments after the climactic events of Halloween; Laurie Strode (Scout Taylor-Compton) is battered and bloody and en route to Haddonfield Memorial, while Michael Myers (Tyler Mane) is carted off to the coroner's office by two Characters in a Rob Zombie Film. You know the kind: they're that variety of trash Mr. Zombie seems so enamored with. They talk about corpse-fucking and they're oh so funny! Except they're not funny. Or maybe you think they are, in which case...I'd rather not know. I just want to travel back to the moment Zombie began typing their dialogue so I can slap his hand with a newspaper and cry "No! Bad Zombie! No trashy characters! You write real people! Real. People." Seriously, I hate Characters in a Rob Zombie Film. I hate that they use the word "fuck" the way the Smurfs use the word "smurf". I hate everything about them.

These guys aren't around for long, thanks to a Deus Ex Cow in the Road. They hit it, Michael gets out of the van (despite being in a serious accident and, oh, getting shot in the face at the end of Halloween), cuts the surviving paramedic's head off with a piece of glass (which could totally happen), and splits. Halloween II then becomes a truncated version of Carpenter's Halloween II as Laurie awakens in the mysteriously empty hospital, only to find Myers once more in pursuit. He butchers his way through the scant staff members on duty...and when I say "butchers", I mean...BUTCHERS. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I can't believe it's not butter. I've also said this before and I will also say this again: Rob Zombie does not shy away from brutal violence. Anyone bitching about the lack of energy in modern American horror needs only watch this incarnation of Myers go to town with a knife. It's cringe-worthy.

The hospital is where we also get our first taste of "Nights in White Satin" by The Moody Blues- I WONDER WHAT IT MEANS. This serves to remind me of the time I went barhopping with some friends many a moon ago. We ended the night at Norm's Country Lounge (don't ask) and I was well and truly tanked. So well and so truly, in fact, that upon spotting the blue satin shirt our bartendress (new word) was sporting, I asked her name (Trish) and proceeded to regale her with "Trish in Blue Satin". She was not amused, but I'm sure it was unbearably charming.

Before Michael can get his grubby mitts on Laurie...she wakes up. She wakes up. SHE WAKES UP because the first half hour of the film was a DREAM. Does this feel like some sort of cheat? Does this crap on your neck? If you're trying to invest yourself in Halloween II, then yes...yes, it does. It's not so much that it's a dream sequence, it's that it feels more like a do-over, as if Zombie got 2 weeks into filming, didn't like the way it was going, and decided to have Laurie wake up screaming in bed rather than try to write himself out of the corner he wrote himself into.

But yes, it's a fucking dream and actually it's two years, not two minutes, past the events of Halloween. Laurie lives with fellow survivor Annie Brackett (Danielle Harris) and her dad, Sheriff (Brad Dourif). Yes, that is his name (no it's not). Annie and Laurie deal with their mental and physical scars very differently: Annie is quieter than she used to be and sticks close to home, while Laurie is sullen, unwashed-looking, and all ten kinds of sweary. She visits a psychiatrist (Margot fucking Kidder) and downs pills in mass quantities to cope with her anxiety and those pesky half-hour dreams that alienate audiences. Laurie eventually reveals that she's come to resent Annie, that seeing her daily means Laurie can't ever forget about her trauma. I think this is actually an interesting development, and that Laurie's PTSD is worth examining; in the end, it amounts to little more than a few yelling matches. After all, who wants to delve into Laurie Strode when you can delve into Michael Myers? That sounds hot, by the way.

Yes, Michael really did survive getting shot in the face. Where has he been for two years? We don't know. His body disappeared from the crime scene (I guess) and he's been living off the grid à la baghead Jason Voorhees (I guess). Myers has gone all mountain man, growing an indigent crazy-style Bigfoot beard. He spends most of the film walking to Haddonfield in search of Laurie, killing strippers and other Characters in a Rob Zombie Film along the way, rendering Halloween II into Cold Mountain II: The Knife-ening. As he walks, he has visions of a white-wigged mom telling him that he needs to kill kill kill so they can all be a family again- you know, just like she did when she was alive.

Time out: Aarrrrrgh I wish all the stupid metaphor bullshit wasn't in the film. It doesn't work. It doesn't work (and if you listened to Episode 2 of The Scare-ening, you know that it wasn't always in the script). I try not not think about it, because it hurts me in my brain place. While it was happening, my body rejected it like a bad organ transplant! I tuned it out and went to my happy place, the place with the hookers and the cake. I dreamed a dream of a metaphor-less Halloween II, where Laurie and Annie and the others lived up to that glimmer of hope in a throwaway line, where Michael was scary and unknown and he was The Boogeyman. It was a nice dream. I liked it.

Time in: Remember Dr. Loomis (Malcolm McDowell)? He's here, too! He's turned into a total money- and fame-grabbing douchebag, capitalizing on the horrors perpetrated by his old patient Michael Myers. He also serves as the voice of Rob Zombie, particularly when he says things like "Did you just mention 'journalists', 'cool', and 'positive' all in the same sentence? Without throwing up? That's an oxymoron." Touché, Mr. Zombie! Way to show people who criticize your work. Much better than, oh, simply ignoring it all, or perhaps ruminating on the fact that sometimes they're right. High road shmigh road, I always say!

Once Laurie reads a copy of Loomis's explosive tell-all, she's understandably dismayed to learn that she's Michael's long-lost sister. She decides to go nuts and booze it up with some new friends at the town's Halloween party, a rather massive affair that gleefully ignores the series of murders that took place the same night two years prior. As Laurie parties it up, ol' stick-in-the-mud Annie stays home. Michael kills the police officer that Sheriff Dad posted outside the house. He gets inside...and I'm not gonna lie: I thought the entire sequence was really well done. To Annie's horror, Michael is suddenly there, looming in the doorway behind her.



Zombie makes an effective use of slow-mo, and then wisely cuts to black before the violence starts. We hear it all, and that's enough- later, when Laurie comes home and finds Annie dying on the floor, the blood and destruction everywhere tells us everything we need to know. I was surprised to find myself a bit upset that Annie died- yes, I actually cared the tiniest bit about the character. I know, right? Weird. Much of this owes to Danielle Harris and Brad Dourif working a bit of magic with the very little they were given. Annie's death is the best sequence in the film- and I don't mean it's the best of the worst...I mean it's actually good.

Unfortunately, then it's back to Happy Myers Family Fuckery as mom urges Michael to kill Laurie so they can all be together. I guess she expects Michael to kill himself afterward to complete the plan...? It doesn't make much sense.

Michael takes Laurie to some abandoned cabin place, and the cops and Loomis (who totally had, like, a change of heart) show up to put a stop to it. They do so as Michael is shot down in one of those blazes of glory Rob Zombie seems to enjoy so much. Unfortunately for the whole wide world, Laurie has also fallen under the crazy spell of Ghost Mom! She's a bona fide Loomis-killing, dirty-haired Myers nutso. She ends up in a metaphorical hospital room...err, corridor, where she spies Ghost Mom and a white horse. I don't know what it means, so don't ask!


What a mess. Halloween II was destined to be a mess, I think, when you consider Zombie's claims that he told all the story he needed to tell in Halloween and he didn't plan for a sequel. The finished product feels like he made it up as he went along, with its numerous disjointed scenes that lead nowhere and that damn metaphor. The Director's Cut, which is the version I watched, clocks in at a whopping 2 hours- and the DVD includes 23 deleted/alternate scenes. Twenty-three! Doesn't anyone tell Zombie when ideas don't work, when they should be excised? When they shouldn't be shot? I don't think so- and that's exactly what he needs, if only to stop the colossal waste of money. More imporantly, the ideas that do work need to be developed rather than glossed-over or buried. And please please please, no more Characters in a Rob Zombie Movie.

I said earlier that Zombie gives good violence, but I suppose I should add a...when you can see it to that. Too often I couldn't tell what was going on because...well, because:

Can you tell what's going on there? Hint: someone's getting killed. See, there's shadow and atmosphere, and then there's plain ol' bad lighting. Halloween II is almost exclusively the latter. Atmosphere, in fact, is sorely lacking. The movie just isn't scary, which is a shame. Michael Myers is one of horror's greatest characters, and when given the proper treatment he's still absolutely terrifying. There are more chills in the end credits' use of a modified version of John Carpenter's original Halloween score than there are in the rest of Halloween II, a sad reminder of what was and what isn't.

Sorry if that doesn't make sense. I may have made it through Halloween II, but it wasn't an easy tour of duty. I'm still a bit shell-shocked...I think this calls for some cake. And hookers!

Dead Space: Downfall (2008) is a sci-fi/horror animated feature that bridges the gap between the 6-issue comic miniseries Dead Space and the video game of the same name. Just for fun, let's do some math.



On the planet Aegis 7, colonists have unearthed a massive artifact of alien origin. After the discovery, violent incidents erupt throughout the colony; a religious group (the Unitarians) claim that the artifact is cursed. The mining ship Ishimura arrives and the artifact is brought on board. In a startling twist, this turns out to be a mistake.

Before long, Ishimura crew members are suicidin' and homicidin' like nobody's business. To make matters worse, dead bodies are reanimated and transformed into necromorphs, grotesque creatures who like to use their pointy appendages for stabbing people TO THE DEATH. Security chief Alissa Vincent and her rag-tag group of marine-types try to regain control of the ship, battling necromorphs, crazy crew members, and a religious zealot of a captain who thinks everything is hunky-dory.

If you've played Dead Space, which begins with the Kellion answering the distress call from the seemingly abandoned Ishimura, you know that Downfall is going to end badly for Vincent and the rest of the crew. Such is the peril of the prequel. The fun, of course, is watching the destruction...and man, is there destruction. BREAKING NEWS: cartoons are not just for kids! Dead Space: Downfall is insanely violent and gory- more so than most live-action horror movies, even. People are impaled, cut in half...body parts fly and blood paints the walls of the ship.

To be honest, I'm not sure what viewers who are unfamiliar with Dead Space will get out of Downfall beyond some visceral, energetic violence and gore. There's nothing wrong with 75 minutes of bloody, spacey, monstery horror, of course...but the narrative is a bit convoluted. Themes explored in the game, such as religious zealotry, are only touched on in the film. The characters are simply mutant fodder- Alissa, for example, is little more than a gun and a bunch of swear words. Still, if you're a sci-fi/horror nut like me, you'll have a good time. The animation itself is a bit stiff- it feels like a superhero cartoon from the early-90s. It didn't really bother me, but then again I like early-90s superhero cartoons.

To sum up, I really dug it...but I knew I would. I mean, you can't argue with math. Okay, you can, but you'll just look stupid.

Once upon a time, I made a short film about zombies and pizza and entered it into a contest. Because the film was essentially an advert for the pizza, it had to feature the pizza. This particular establishment was not local to me, and therefore I had to procure some of their frozen pies to use. When all of us gathered to make movie magic ate some of this pizza, we came to a startling realization: it was fucking gross. This hurt me deeply in my heart place because as you know, I love pizza. When pizza is disgusting, I'm not exaggerating when I say that I consider it to be a tragedy. I want the offending dough-cheese-sauce thing to be stripped of its "pizza" moniker. I want to emblazon it with a scarlet C (for crap) to warn others away from it, lest they feel the disappointment I feel.

In short, bad pizza makes me want to cry.

I don't understand how anyone could get it wrong...I mean, there's a formula, right? That formula gives you a nice solid foundation on which you can add your own flair (by "flair" I mean "black olives"), making it even better.

Okay, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. This is all some awkward, post-lunch metaphor for formulaic horror movies- you know, like slasher movies and lesbian vampire movies. When the formula works, it's delicious. I'm not one to decry the same ol' same ol' when it's done well- and baby, Jose Larraz's Vampyres (1974) is done well!

Phew, awful metaphor over.

Vampyres opens with a cryptic scene that finds a figure, seen only in shadow, unleashing bullets (from a gun!) on our heroines, who happen to be engaging in some naked lesbionic antics. Questions abound: is this a flashback, or a flash-forward? Why would anyone shoot a couple of innocent, cavorting lesbians?

After this explosive, nudetastic intro, the movie becomes your typical lesbian vampire movie: a young couple runs into mysterious women, the mysterious women lure young men back to their castle, the young men are wined and dined (on), the mysterious women get it on with each other. Like I said, Vampyres is typical and formulaic, and the plot, as it were, is bare-bones...but who the hell cares?

This is an entertaining, stylish erotic horror movie that hits all the right notes for its genre: the women are gorgeous (the men...err, less so), the sex is racy, the blood and violence ample, the cloaks are velvet, the castle grounds are lush and mist-covered...essentially, it's everything you could want in a lesbian vampire movie.

In the end, you'll undoubtedly be left with questions, some of which are more frustrating than others. Are Fran (Marianne Morris) and Miriam (Anulka) really vampires? If so, where are their fangs...and more importantly, why do they spend so much time in the sunlight as they frantically attempt to get out of the sunlight? Of course, this may all be Larraz playing around with vampire tropes- although the scenes that bookend the film indicate that the women may not be vampires at all.

Look, I've got to get through a lot of lesbian vampire movies to fulfill Category 5 for Operation: 101010, and I know they're not all going to be gems (bad lesbian vampire movies make me want to cry). Believe me, that's almost as depressing as that shitty frozen pizza I was talking about earlier. I'm already imagining a future time when I'm on...oh, let's say entry #8 in Category 5, watching some horrible movie from 2007 that gets the formula oh-so-wrong, when I'm crying out that it shouldn't be that hard to get the formula oh-so-right and why can't actresses have real bodies anymore and why did I make this subgenre a part of Operation 101010...that's when I'll think back to Vampyres and I will smile. I will smile the smile of a gorehound-letch who likes to watch sapphic bloodsuckers...uh, suck blood and be all sapphic and stuff. And really, isn't that all of us?

I've been sitting here with this page open all freaking day- ALL DAY- trying to figure out what I want to say about Cloverfield (2008), which I finally saw approximately 7000 years after everyone else did. Why is this so difficult? Maybe because I'm terribly distracted today. Maybe it's because I simply don't feel like writing a review for it because I just kind of thought it was okay.

That's the point in this venture, by the way, where you chime in with "Well, if you don't feel like writing a review then why are you posting? Get bent!" or something similar.

And that's the point where I say, I can do whatever I want to here, and if I want to type up three sentences about Cloverfield, then that's what I'll do. However, typing up three sentences is not what I want to do. Even that seems like too much effort today. I've got a huge case of the ADDs. So...this is how I will do it.

Characters? Holy crap, I hated them all. That party at the the beginning...ugh. I wouldn't want to spend more than 30 seconds with any of them. It really didn't get me excited to spend the next 80 minutes with them. Part of this was due to the...

...acting. I don't know how much of this was improvised and how much was scripted, but for a "found footage" film, it came off as fake. I've seen P.O.V. flicks and mockumentaries done well. This was not.

The CGI, however, was done quite well, I thought. While the decapitated head of the Statue of Liberty seemed way too small to be real, the rest of the rampant destruction was realistic enough.


I love the idea behind Cloverfield, a giant monster movie from the perspective of the man on the street. The echoes of 9/11/01 were, I'd imagine, intentional. The sense of panic, the confusion and flight amidst unanswered questions were perfectly captured. The moments after the initial attack were eerily accurate. But then...

...the whole "going back for the girl" plot was fairly insufferable. I found it so unrealistic that it irreparably knocked the train off the rails. It didn't help that I hated the characters.

It's too bad this:

was touched on only briefly- far too short a segment. I wanted to spend more time with this exploding face development.

Overall it was pretty fun- I mean, sometimes you just want to see big monsters beat the crap out of buildings and stuff. In that regard, Cloverfield was a success. As I said, I thought the "man on the street" angle was a bit ingenious. It's just too bad that the man on the street was such a shallow, smarmy jerk.

Phew! Got that out of the way. Oooh, what's over there?