Entries Tagged 'voting is the best' ↓

...you can vote for Final Girl over at yon Large Association of Movie Blogs's LAMMY Awards, where yours truly has been nominated in 8 (eight!) categories.

Voting is only open to those who are LAMBS themselves...if you've got a movie blog and you're NOT a LAMB, well, what's your problem? Join usssssss.....

Here's a link to the complete list of nominees and all that jazz. Some of the comments are awesome, and that's all I'll say about that.

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?

So today I was thinking about, you know, like, stuff and stuff, and I was all...hmm. Yeah. "Horror kinda nosedived as the 1980s went on and on." Then I thought about 1985 and I was all, "Well, that wasn't such a bad year." Then I thought about the fact that I used to wear nylon pants in the mid-80s, and how that was a terrible, terrible decision on my part...especially when one considers that I would generally couple said nylon pants with Chuck Taylors and Hawaiian shirts. What the fuck was I thinking?

Anyway, yeah, horror in '85. Some good movies, and a turn toward black comedy. Notable, perhaps. Perhaps not. I guess that's a decision you'll have to make for yourself, consequences be damned. Not unlike opting to pull up some nylon pants.


This film completely cordoned off a piece of my heart reserved forever and always for Linnea Quigley.


Gordon + Lovecraft + Combs + Crampton are mid-80s Fab Four as far as I'm concerned.



SAKES ALIVE. Why oh why can't I zip around the universe all nude-like, shooting lasers out of my eyes? It's all I want in the world!



Three things always spring to mind when I think of Fright Night: 1) Amanda Bearse's magically-lengthening vampire hair; 2) "Oh, you're so cool, Brewster!"; 3) Chris Sarandon's off-white cable-knit sweater.



I've never seen The Stuff. There, I said it.


This movie makes no sense and it's wicked gross. I fucking love it.



Oft-maligned, but I've always dug Day of the Dead. Maybe because it was the first Romero zombie pic I was allowed to see...saw it at the drive-in. Brain chaos ensued. "Yes, sir...fuck you, sir!"



Saw this once upon a time- and when I say "a time", I mean "a horror movie sleepover pizza party time"...meaning, I thought it stunk. Undoubtedly, I need to revisit it.


So...1985. Whatchoo tink?