Entries Tagged 'yes' ↓
June 17th, 2022 — From The Feeds, lasers make everything better, Reviews, yes
Approximately one minute into Invitation to Hell, I knew that the almighty Charles Nelson Reilly had beamed the movie down from Heaven above expressly for me.
Well, no matter. The fact remains that as Invitation to Hell lies on its little bed made of hay or whatever, I will forever dump frankincense and myrrh at its feet! This movie came out in 1984 and yet somehow I have only just seen it for the first time...? Yes, 1984 was almost 25 years (!!) before I was born, but still, we have coexisted for quite some time now. Where have I been? What have I been doing? What took me so long?
You know what, I am not going to get all wrapped up in regrets and wasted years. We are together now, this masterpiece and I, and nothing will ever keep us from one another. Nothing!
So what happened in the first minute of Invitation to Hell that had me RSVPeeing in my pants with a big fat resounding YES? Witness:
In keeping with Final Girl's longstanding tradition of using only 100% cutting edge technology to bring you images, I recorded that off of my TV with my phone.
I'm sure you watched that and said "I can't believe my eyes! Was that Susan Lucci of television's All My Children dressed like she's Thing 3 from some Dr. Seuss shit standing up in a weird way and killing a man with the power of her finger gun?" It was, dear reader. It was. Now you get what I have been saying!
perfection
feel the power
I know I had you at "Susan Lucci" but honey, the hits do not stop there! This is perhaps the one movie in the history of ever that truly has it all. Just a wee little bit of that all includes:
-- a family composed of Robert Urich ( of television's Spenser for Hire and television's Vega$...man, a show with a dollar sign in the title, those really were the days), Joanna Cassidy (she was in Blade Runner AND this AND she flew a hot air balloon over Mars in Ghosts of Mars, sorry but that is a career any of us should be willing to die for), Soleil Moon Frye of television's Punky Brewster, and Barret "Bastian from The Neverending Story" Oliver
-- another family partially composed of that guy from Murphy Brown and The Bad Seed herself, Patty McCormack
-- cinematography by Dean Cundey and directing by Wes Craven (???!!!)
-- Kevin McCarthy! I love him so much
-- a town with a secret that isn't really that much of a secret
-- an evil country club (redundant I know)
-- a company called Micro-DigiTech
-- a fistfight rendered more exciting thanks to the time-honored inclusion of nearby stacks of empty cardboard boxes for people to crash into
-- lasers
-- Hell (not really a spoiler as it's right there in the title)
-- this shit is MADE FOR TV
Now you get what I have been saying even more!
After several years of hard times and struggle while working on "projects" with "computers," Matt Winslow (Urich) has been hired by a "company" to be in charge of "special projects." The entire Winslow clan is pretty pumped about their move to the 'burbs of a burgeoning Silicon Valley.
The local country club, Steaming Springs, is like the coolest hot shit place in town to join, and it's headed up by Jennifer Jones (Lucci). Having seen the first minute of this film, we know that Jennifer Jones has some kind of inhuman abilities and an impeccable sense of style; therefore, we can safely assume that there is something both nefarious and glamorous afoot at Steaming Springs.
We sort of get a hint about it all when that guy from Murphy Brown and Patty McCormack and their kids take part in the Steaming Springs (side note: I don't like that word "steaming") initiation ceremony, which involves bathrobes, pledging that you will forsake all others for The Club, and Jennifer Jones rocking some hair that's so big it stretches the laws of physics to their breaking point.
Honestly I would join too, if only for that robe. Finally, some satanists (I think? it's never made completely clear and you know what, I don't care) who understand that evil and comfort need not be mutually exclusive.
Anyway, they enter the steamy sanctum (not a euphemism) and the next thing you know, that guy from Murphy Brown gets a sweet promotion and Patty McCormack has a sweet new car. Matt's wife Pat (Cassidy) (yes, they are Matt and Pat) (yes, this movie rules so hard) really wants in on all the sweet club stuff. Didn't the family suffer enough during those hard times and struggles? Wouldn't some new furniture be great? What, is Matt a coward? Is that why he doesn't want to join? He's a little coward baby?
No, Matt is not a little coward baby. He is just a man who is content with furnishings that are only okay, his family, and his job designing a spacesuit meant to withstand the heat of Venus. This spacesuit comes complete with a built-in flamethrower, a built-in laser gun, and, conveniently, an interface that can detect whether or not a life form is 1) human and 2) friendly. Jessica Jones passes in front of this interface and SURPRISE, the results are not at all surprising!
Despite all the pleading from his friends and family and coworkers to just submit and join the club, Matt remains resolutely against it, so Pat and the kids join without him. After the steaming, there are noticeable changes to them all. For starters, Pat's hair size increases exponentially, as does her horniness and her murder-y-ness.
Horny and Murder-y: The Pat Winslow StorySoon enough, Pat and the kids decide they will no longer tolerate Matt's stubborn refusals to claim the power that the club provides, so they all try to kill him.
Listen, I know how delightful that image is. But reader, what no mere image can convey is that whilst attacking her dad, Soleil Moon Frye yells things such as "We don't like nice!" in a demon voice. No, I don't mean that the demon voice is her regular voice pitch-altered or dubbed or anything; I mean it's a seven-year-old doing a demon voice and it is absolutely as incredible as you think it is. Even more so, I dare say.
Matt dons his experimental spacesuit, heads to Steaming Springs, and goes about saving his family.
While some little girls may dream about riding horses or whatever, when I was a little girl I dreamed about someday seeing Robert Urich wearing a spacesuit and shooting lasers at Susan Lucci...in Hell. I can't believe that at long, long last, this movie made my dream a reality!
That happens and then we get to the Negative Zone. And then there's an explosive ending, by which I mean Susan Lucci kind of explodes. I know that is a spoiler. It will not diminish your enjoyment of the moment in the slightest.
I told you! This movie has it ALL.
Look, when I watched this last night I did not do so with the intention of writing about it here ("Girl you never watch anything with the intention of writing about it here!" -- you, probably) (also...that's fair) or anywhere else...but it had me in its steamy grip (gross) from the jump and it didn't let go for even a second. It will never let go! So here I am, handing you an Invitation to Hell and asking you to be my Plus One. Join me and claim the power of this movie! What, are you a coward?
May 2nd, 2016 — From The Feeds, Reviews, VHS rules, yes
On a brutally stormy night, five rain-soaked travelers seek shelter in a gloomy Welsh manor that's home to the wildly eccentric Femm family. In short order we're introduced to brother Horace, who seems more afraid of dangers lurking within the house than those without; sister Rebecca, who warns against "fleshly love" and all manner of blasphemy; towering, mute, disfigured manservant Morgan; withered, bedridden patriarch Sir Roderick; and...whomever is locked away in a tiny room on the top floor.
Winds howl, floorboards creak, candlelight flickers, and shadows loom large as the night wears on. Horace grows increasingly fearful and paranoid as he refuses to wander upstairs. Tales of murder, suicide, and sinful siblings abound. Despite a warning that Morgan can't touch alcohol as he's a violent drunk, Morgan gets drunk. Then he unlocks that door on the top floor.
Yes indeed,
The Old Dark House is at times truly suspenseful, a classic...well, a classic old dark house picture. It's particularly remarkable that with this film, James Whale simultaneously creates a genre and provides a cheeky take on the same. Sure, sure, there are frights lurking about here and there. but even more prevalent are the laughs: it's as much a black comedy as it is gothic thriller. (Incidentally, Whale would perfect this combination a few years later in
Bride of Frankenstein.)
The Femm house is full of secrets and weirdos alike, and the result is a film that feels way ahead of its time. Gender-bent casting (though billed as
John Dudgeon, it's
Elspeth Dudgeon who portrays Sir Roderick), gay subtext, talk of sex and sin, piousness and atheism render
The Old Dark House positively transgressive. It never quite approaches camp levels, but it teeters on the brink. Actors have a grand old time with the material, in particular Ernest Thesiger, who would reunite with Whale and give a memorable performance in
Bride. Here, as Horace, he's an absolute delight who manages to make "Have a potato" a line worth quoting forever and always.
While
The Old Dark House is certainly lauded, it also tends to be a bit overlooked when the great Universal horror films are discussed. It's the sibling locked away in the rafters, the oddball who doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the family...but really, that just means that it needs–and deserves–even more love and attention. Have a potato!
May 2nd, 2016 — From The Feeds, Reviews, VHS rules, yes
On a brutally stormy night, five rain-soaked travelers seek shelter in a gloomy Welsh manor that's home to the wildly eccentric Femm family. In short order we're introduced to brother Horace, who seems more afraid of dangers lurking within the house than those without; sister Rebecca, who warns against "fleshly love" and all manner of blasphemy; towering, mute, disfigured manservant Morgan; withered, bedridden patriarch Sir Roderick; and...whomever is locked away in a tiny room on the top floor.
Winds howl, floorboards creak, candlelight flickers, and shadows loom large as the night wears on. Horace grows increasingly fearful and paranoid as he refuses to wander upstairs. Tales of murder, suicide, and sinful siblings abound. Despite a warning that Morgan can't touch alcohol as he's a violent drunk, Morgan gets drunk. Then he unlocks that door on the top floor.
Yes indeed,
The Old Dark House is at times truly suspenseful, a classic...well, a classic old dark house picture. It's particularly remarkable that with this film, James Whale simultaneously creates a genre and provides a cheeky take on the same. Sure, sure, there are frights lurking about here and there. but even more prevalent are the laughs: it's as much a black comedy as it is gothic thriller. (Incidentally, Whale would perfect this combination a few years later in
Bride of Frankenstein.)
The Femm house is full of secrets and weirdos alike, and the result is a film that feels way ahead of its time. Gender-bent casting (though billed as
John Dudgeon, it's
Elspeth Dudgeon who portrays Sir Roderick), gay subtext, talk of sex and sin, piousness and atheism render
The Old Dark House positively transgressive. It never quite approaches camp levels, but it teeters on the brink. Actors have a grand old time with the material, in particular Ernest Thesiger, who would reunite with Whale and give a memorable performance in
Bride. Here, as Horace, he's an absolute delight who manages to make "Have a potato" a line worth quoting forever and always.
While
The Old Dark House is certainly lauded, it also tends to be a bit overlooked when the great Universal horror films are discussed. It's the sibling locked away in the rafters, the oddball who doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the family...but really, that just means that it needs–and deserves–even more love and attention. Have a potato!
May 2nd, 2016 — From The Feeds, Reviews, VHS rules, yes
On a brutally stormy night, five rain-soaked travelers seek shelter in a gloomy Welsh manor that's home to the wildly eccentric Femm family. In short order we're introduced to brother Horace, who seems more afraid of dangers lurking within the house than those without; sister Rebecca, who warns against "fleshly love" and all manner of blasphemy; towering, mute, disfigured manservant Morgan; withered, bedridden patriarch Sir Roderick; and...whomever is locked away in a tiny room on the top floor.
Winds howl, floorboards creak, candlelight flickers, and shadows loom large as the night wears on. Horace grows increasingly fearful and paranoid as he refuses to wander upstairs. Tales of murder, suicide, and sinful siblings abound. Despite a warning that Morgan can't touch alcohol as he's a violent drunk, Morgan gets drunk. Then he unlocks that door on the top floor.
Yes indeed,
The Old Dark House is at times truly suspenseful, a classic...well, a classic old dark house picture. It's particularly remarkable that with this film, James Whale simultaneously creates a genre and provides a cheeky take on the same. Sure, sure, there are frights lurking about here and there. but even more prevalent are the laughs: it's as much a black comedy as it is gothic thriller. (Incidentally, Whale would perfect this combination a few years later in
Bride of Frankenstein.)
The Femm house is full of secrets and weirdos alike, and the result is a film that feels way ahead of its time. Gender-bent casting (though billed as
John Dudgeon, it's
Elspeth Dudgeon who portrays Sir Roderick), gay subtext, talk of sex and sin, piousness and atheism render
The Old Dark House positively transgressive. It never quite approaches camp levels, but it teeters on the brink. Actors have a grand old time with the material, in particular Ernest Thesiger, who would reunite with Whale and give a memorable performance in
Bride. Here, as Horace, he's an absolute delight who manages to make "Have a potato" a line worth quoting forever and always.
While
The Old Dark House is certainly lauded, it also tends to be a bit overlooked when the great Universal horror films are discussed. It's the sibling locked away in the rafters, the oddball who doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the family...but really, that just means that it needs–and deserves–even more love and attention. Have a potato!
March 21st, 2016 — From The Feeds, Reviews, yes
Whether you are an American or not, if you're following the political scene here in the United States–I mean, how can you avoid it?–then you're likely mortified, depressed, terrified, nonplussed, and just plain worn the fuck out. Then you remember the election is still 236 days away and you think about renting a convertible, finding the nearest canyon, and Thelma-and-Louise-ening yourself into sweet oblivion. On the other hand, you don't really feel like leaving the house today so you simply opt to curb your Internetting and social mediaing. You should probably do that regardless.
On the upside of this garbage, all the recent
AIDS in the Reagan era news talk got me thinkin' about and revisiting Todd Haynes's
other Carol* in 1995's
Safe.
I fully admit, when I saw
Safe in theaters back in The Day, I wasn't super satisfied. I was disappointed, even. I didn't get it. Mind you, that reaction had more to do with my own preconceived notions of what the film would be than with any of its actual shortcomings, if it even has any. But I went into it expecting some horror-flavored
Outbreak-style disease flick (we all had contagious illness fever back then, you see), and
Safe...isn't that, despite the fact that Carol White has an environmental/chemical sensitivity and sickness. Or does she?
Safe asks that question of the viewer, and many more besides. The truth and right-or-wrong of everything is kept
just out of reach, constantly teasing, and it remains that way until the last frame. All of those questions raised and not a single answer given–what frustrated me upon first viewing ("Where are the exploding faces and people bleeding out, dammit?!") now tantalizes. I gave the film a second chance a few years ago and it clicked and since then, I've delighted in unraveling the layers, plucking at all the threads to see where they lead.
While Carol Aird of
Carol and Carol White of
Safe are both women concerned with identity and finding their place in the world, they approach these issues from radically different places. Carol Aird knows who she is and what she wants, it's simply a matter of having the courage to claim both and live true to herself. Carol White, on the other hand, hardly exists. She takes up no space. Her voice barely projects–she speaks not from her diaphragm, but from the slightest vibration at that top of her vocal cords. You can be sure she leaves no impression on a mattress when she gets off of it. She is dwarfed by her monstrously large upper middle class surroundings, by her marriage, by everything.
It's easy to read her sudden illness as a rejection of all of this as she tries to finally figure herself out, but again, Todd Haynes doesn't give us such a nice, neat little metaphorical package. We're never given any indication that Carol has an inner life or engages in soul searching whatsoever, and ultimately it's impossible to gauge her motivations. She is simply an empty vessel adrift. She was isolated in her domestic life, but she only leaves it to find herself further isolated–this time quite literally, as she takes to living in a germ-free domicile in a remote desert community of like-minded sufferers. Is she now happy? What does happiness mean to Carol White? Would she even recognize it?
By 1995, Julianne Moore was beginning to emerge as an Actress of Note, One to Watch after turns in
Short Cuts and
The Hand That Rocks the Cradle–and she is remarkable in
Safe. Moore and Haynes provide a great example of that wondrous and rare director-actress synergy that is so rewarding to watch. She knows this character, she gets what he's written, and he lets her work. Every frame of the thing is worth savoring and the production design...it is perfectly 1987. The colors, the puffiness! A nightmare in pastel.
If you've yet to see
Safe, fucking see
Safe already. I realized in that theatre that it's not "horror", but in the years since I've figured out that it's existentially horrifying, so what's the difference? Play it fast and loose with genre conventions, man, and unravel those threads.
*
YES I am still completely obsessed with Carol
and I am sure I always will be, so you just count yourself lucky if I don't go ahead and turn this dump into a Carol
blog once and for all March 21st, 2016 — From The Feeds, Reviews, yes
Whether you are an American or not, if you're following the political scene here in the United States–I mean, how can you avoid it?–then you're likely mortified, depressed, terrified, nonplussed, and just plain worn the fuck out. Then you remember the election is still 236 days away and you think about renting a convertible, finding the nearest canyon, and Thelma-and-Louise-ening yourself into sweet oblivion. On the other hand, you don't really feel like leaving the house today so you simply opt to curb your Internetting and social mediaing. You should probably do that regardless.
On the upside of this garbage, all the recent
AIDS in the Reagan era news talk got me thinkin' about and revisiting Todd Haynes's
other Carol* in 1995's
Safe.
I fully admit, when I saw
Safe in theaters back in The Day, I wasn't super satisfied. I was disappointed, even. I didn't get it. Mind you, that reaction had more to do with my own preconceived notions of what the film would be than with any of its actual shortcomings, if it even has any. But I went into it expecting some horror-flavored
Outbreak-style disease flick (we all had contagious illness fever back then, you see), and
Safe...isn't that, despite the fact that Carol White has an environmental/chemical sensitivity and sickness. Or does she?
Safe asks that question of the viewer, and many more besides. The truth and right-or-wrong of everything is kept
just out of reach, constantly teasing, and it remains that way until the last frame. All of those questions raised and not a single answer given–what frustrated me upon first viewing ("Where are the exploding faces and people bleeding out, dammit?!") now tantalizes. I gave the film a second chance a few years ago and it clicked and since then, I've delighted in unraveling the layers, plucking at all the threads to see where they lead.
While Carol Aird of
Carol and Carol White of
Safe are both women concerned with identity and finding their place in the world, they approach these issues from radically different places. Carol Aird knows who she is and what she wants, it's simply a matter of having the courage to claim both and live true to herself. Carol White, on the other hand, hardly exists. She takes up no space. Her voice barely projects–she speaks not from her diaphragm, but from the slightest vibration at that top of her vocal cords. You can be sure she leaves no impression on a mattress when she gets off of it. She is dwarfed by her monstrously large upper middle class surroundings, by her marriage, by everything.
It's easy to read her sudden illness as a rejection of all of this as she tries to finally figure herself out, but again, Todd Haynes doesn't give us such a nice, neat little metaphorical package. We're never given any indication that Carol has an inner life or engages in soul searching whatsoever, and ultimately it's impossible to gauge her motivations. She is simply an empty vessel adrift. She was isolated in her domestic life, but she only leaves it to find herself further isolated–this time quite literally, as she takes to living in a germ-free domicile in a remote desert community of like-minded sufferers. Is she now happy? What does happiness mean to Carol White? Would she even recognize it?
By 1995, Julianne Moore was beginning to emerge as an Actress of Note, One to Watch after turns in
Short Cuts and
The Hand That Rocks the Cradle–and she is remarkable in
Safe. Moore and Haynes provide a great example of that wondrous and rare director-actress synergy that is so rewarding to watch. She knows this character, she gets what he's written, and he lets her work. Every frame of the thing is worth savoring and the production design...it is perfectly 1987. The colors, the puffiness! A nightmare in pastel.
If you've yet to see
Safe, fucking see
Safe already. I realized in that theatre that it's not "horror", but in the years since I've figured out that it's existentially horrifying, so what's the difference? Play it fast and loose with genre conventions, man, and unravel those threads.
*
YES I am still completely obsessed with Carol
and I am sure I always will be, so you just count yourself lucky if I don't go ahead and turn this dump into a Carol
blog once and for all February 20th, 2016 — From The Feeds, ye olde, yes
Think not on the Fear that lyes vpon yy head and heart. Trust Yyself, Trust The VVitch, vnburthen Yyself and seest svch Entertaynments for the bettering of thy mind.
Or something. Basically I am still unpacking my thoughts and feelings about
The Witch too much to write anything resembling a proper (or even proper-ish) review, but I thought I would chime in here to say that I loved it. So there.
February 20th, 2016 — From The Feeds, ye olde, yes
Think not on the Fear that lyes vpon yy head and heart. Trust Yyself, Trust The VVitch, vnburthen Yyself and seest svch Entertaynments for the bettering of thy mind.
Or something. Basically I am still unpacking my thoughts and feelings about
The Witch too much to write anything resembling a proper (or even proper-ish) review, but I thought I would chime in here to say that I loved it. So there.
Horny and Murder-y: The Pat Winslow Story
