Boy, it has been a while, hasn't it? I have excuse, of course - a new novel, editing, work, a new website - but still, no excuses for not posting.
So, without further ado, I commit the ultimate sin a blogger can commit, and link to other content. Now, the other content is mine, but still...lazy.
The content in question is on the genre film website Flick Attack, where I hurredly muse on some of the great, good, ignored, fairly ignored, and awful movies I've sat through. I've put up a few reviews lately, and I would be remiss if I didn't draw your attention to them.
First up, the high-kicking action of Chuck "The Toilet Brush for a Face" Norris, and his career nadir, Delta Force 2:
Directed by Aaron Norris (favorite bro of Bristle McSoloflex, and as fine a director as his sib is an actor), Delta Force 2 finds Punch Rockgroin leading some kind of anti-terrorist group, a leader so magnetic that no backstory or character development is necessary. After a friend is killed by Drago, The Beard with No Name works out his rage by kicking the snot out of his men in a training exercise and then traveling to South America for revenge, backed by the U.S. government.
Next, we have the guilty pleasure that is Jamie Lee Curtis battling cyborg monsters in Virus:
Here’s what Virus doesn’t have: genuine scares, anything approaching originality, and a director who can do more than aim the camera at the right spot. But when I’m presented with a monster comprised of electrical impulses that replicates itself by combining spare human body parts with mutated versions of the spiderbots that menaced Tom Selleck in Runaway, resulting in awesomely goofy Borg/Cenobite hybrids, I’m willing to forgive a lot.
And finally, a movie that earned me much family scorn for enjoying, the b-movie messterpiece Hardware:
It isn’t perfect; the script is undercooked, and the tiny budget betrays itself through clumsy action and ersatz effects. But Hardware, love it or hate it, is undeniably a pure product of Stanley’s mind, and in an era of generic Platinum Dunes horrors, it’s refreshing to see an unwillingness to compromise, even if the result is deeply flawed. Put it this way: If you can find the value of a movie where the hero strides past a baby tied to dead woman’s waist without taking a second glance, you’ll appreciate Hardware; if not, I’m sure Blockbuster has a copy of Big Momma’s House.
It's the eve of All Hallow's Eve, and time for a few scares to wile away the night as costumed boogens egg your house. Damned punk kids!
In keeping with the more literary nature of this esteemed blog, I wrote a previous post on a good selection of favourite horror novels to keep you spooked until the morning light. This year, I thought I'd broaden that idea. Let's face it, when it comes to horror, most of us will rent a movie or two. But let's keep it somewhat in the same vein, and focus on works of fiction adapted to film.
These are a few of my preferred choices for a night of literary horror, the ones I find myself returning to on evenings when there's nothing on, and nothing to do but crack open a beer and relive some basic terrors. Some adhere quite closely to their source material, and some veer wildly away. These are inherently personal choices, and while many have both detractors and enthusiasts, they cannot be defended by anyone here but myself. You don't like? Go rent something else. I'm sure your local public library has a copy of The Pacifierwaiting just for you (the horror!).
And for those wondering why the venerable Draculaand Frankensteinhave been left off this list:
1) Frankenstein is a great, great film, and its importance cannot be underestimated. But Bride of Frankenstein is even better, but cannot really be considered an adaptation and is thus ineligible for this list; and
2) Dracula (the Bela Lugosi version) is a boring mess. Sad, but true. It's also a defiantly dull novel, vastly overpraised. Other filmic adaptations, while infinitely preferred by moi, are not movies I return to on a regular basis.
Admittedly, the second manifestation of Finney's work is my personal fave, but all three are worth your time, even the unjustly ignored third (but avoid the Nicole Kidman version at all costs). Each carves its terror from that block of paranoia lodged within our subconscious, that fear that our loved ones are not who they say they are. It's also the loss of identity that drives the terror, the fear that we are but a breath away from becoming that which we hate. The first movie became viewed as a warning against the scourge of communism, the second used new-age mysticism as its base, and the third railed against the conformity of self present in our military apparatus. Each has scares aplenty, but only one has the awesomeness of Donald Sutherland, thus earning its edge over the other two. And when you add in the greatest whopper of an ending ever, you get gold, baby!
Spielberg has gone to many other films, some of which are legitimate classics. None, however, have played with dread and fear so effectively Jaws, as his first major film. It's a cliche to say that the movie changed Hollywood, but there you have it. It also demonized sharks beyond all rational thought, which is a testament to Spielberg's skill (as well as a condemnation of the mob mentality of humanity).
Jaws is one of those films that grabs you from the throat from the opening strains of its thumping tuba melody and doesn't let go until Brody and Hooper face off against the beast. Spielberg is still a force, but doubts exist as to whether he could still manage to evoke the fundamental terror of his monster from the depths. That first appearance of the shark, just under the surface of the water, pulling that boater under...still hate deep water.
I love both Flies. The first is a brightly-colored nightmare, the second as gory and wet a movie as you could ever hope for. Cronenberg's version is by far the more complete film, being an epic love story as well as a goreathon of the highest calibre. Very rarely have I wanted to cry at the death of a practical special effect, but damned if this one did not get to me. And the original is a ton of fun, and has its moments of sadness as the mad scientist silently pleads with his wife to end his torment. While I'll give the higher praise to Cronenberg (and a career-high performance from Jeff Goldblum), the first will always hold a special place in my heart, if only for "Help meeee! Help meeeeee!"
The only movie on this list directed by the original author. The lowest budget of them all (adjusting for inflation). The goriest. The most squirm-inducing and unpleasant to sit through (in the best definition of the phrase). You can quibble with the results, but its undeniable that Clive Barker created something inherently unique, a family drama involving violence, lust, and S&M bondage gear mixed with religious iconography. Wild, wild stuff. And of all the monsters on this list, the lead cenobite Pinhead is the most iconic, even if he devolved into a sideshow barker over the course of countless unnecessary sequels.
How could I not include The Thing, a seminal work of movie horror in both its iterations? Both are hugely influential, but the edge will always go to the John Carpenter version, if only because it hews far more closely to the original source material. Also, it's fabulously gross. I mean, the head grows legs and walks away! You gotta be fu@#in' kidding!
Both versions are tight little nightmares involving trapped individuals, but Carpenter's version adds a grim layer of paranoia (very similar to that of the Body Snatcher variations) by having a monster that replicates itself into any organic life form it comes in contact with. Who's human? Even the actors weren't sure, if the DVD commentary is to be believed (and yes, I listen to commentaries, I've that much of a geek).
But The Mist may be as perfect a rendition of King's work as anyone could hope to get. Director Darabont - no slouch with King's work, having directed adaptations of King's The Shawshank Redemptionand The Green Mileto Oscar nominations - takes his usual penchant for hopeful endings and does a complete 180, resulting in a gloomy little horror epic that is as demanding as they come.
Both works take a cue from such claustrophobic moves such as Night of the Living Dead, confining its characters in an enclosed space and assaulting them with all manner of wee beasties. In this instance, it's a supermarket shrouded in a thick fog in which all manner of devilish monsters await anyone stupid enough to venture out. The monsters are handled well (especially considering the budget limitations), and the attacks are suitably horrific and gruesome.
However, the real monsters are inside, as the movie subtly turns into a study on group dynamics. Cut off from the outside world, the terrified humans fall prey to the histrionic rantings of a devout Christian fundamentalist. "As a species we're fundamentally insane," Ollie the grocer opines. "Put more than two of us in a room, we pick sides and start dreaming up reasons to kill one another. Why do you think we invented politics and religion?" In this way, The Mist adds an element lacking from Carpenter's The Thing, the only mainstream horror film I can can compare this to. The men of the arctic post may have fought ramping paranoia, but they'd have had no problems in shutting down a religious nutjob with a swift blow to the head.
As the scares ramp up, the mob becomes bloodthirsty, and all notions of civilization fall by the wayside in a very short period of time. All of which combine to end the film in one of the bravest and most downbeat endings to a horror film in quite some time, even more than The Thing. Some people hate the ending, but I think it's absolutely perfect. Those looking for a feel-good horror epic need look elsewhere.
Ah, the mid-nineteen-eighties. It was a simpler time. A time when a director such as Tobe Hooper could command huge budgets for personal projects. A time when Steve Railsback was considered a leading man. An innocent time.
I can't really defend this choice, other than it's one of my all-time guilty pleasures, a bizarre fun-fest of conflicting ideas and money run amok that never fails to entertain me. Wilson's novel is a fairly straightforward and (despite the gloriously pulpy cover to the right) sedate affair, setting a far more cerebral tone than its cinematic counterpart. The Space Vampires concerns, uh, let me check my notes...ah, yes, vampires from space. Wilson follows a group of scientists as they study and hunt down a strange being who may be the progenitor for the vampire myths of old. It's a studied affair, measured and direct, and hardly a sensational, hyperbolic affair.
Not so the adaptation. Tobe Hooper was on a career high, after arguably directing the hit horror flick Poltergeist. Given an immense sum of money, I think Hooper went a little bit nutso, the end result being a fantastically weird horror/sci-fi epic firmly in the vein of the Quatermass films of the 1960s (and you should check them out, they are awesome). It starts out as a space epic, as a British/American team of astronauts are sent to check out Haley's comet. There, they find a bizarre Lovecraftian type of spaceship filled with dessicated bat-creatures and three humanoid life-forms. Returning to earth, the lead female escapes and begins infecting the populace, and the movie switches gears into a weird psycho-sexual drama as lead astronaut Railsback finds he has a psychic connection with her. Then, in another left-turn, the movie becomes a zombie film as newly-infected persons quickly turn London into a battle zone. All this, plus fantastically inventive practical effects work and a jaunty, bombastic score by Henry Mancini.
It is a weird, weird, weird film, and although I know that none of it should work, it has always fascinated me. There is a certain amount of astonishment that something so unhinged was ever allowed to go through a major film studio (even if it was only Cannon). I return to it again and again, reveling in the great atmosphere, the ridiculous scientific explanations, the overacting Railsback, Patrick Stewart (!), and everything else. It is wonderful, absurd, inane, and perfect.
By the way, the trailer below is red-band for partial nudity. You have been warned.
You know, as I look over this list, I realize that I really have a thing for the downbeat ending, don't I? Not much hope on this list. But that's where the true scares are found, don't you think? Not from the "boo!" but from the slow realization that the monsters are real, and they will always, always win.
Time for the spooks and scares, folks. This Friday is Halloween, and while I think we can all agree that it's not what it used to be, we can still have a good old time with a scary flick or two.
I thought, instead of simply a list of my favourite horror films, I'd take a little time and discuss those specific scenes that, for one reason or another, caused me to soil myself. These are the little snippets of film that traumatized me the deepest, and left me the bitter, cynical wreck I am today, God love 'em.
NOTE: I'll have a clip when I can, but likely as not, these scenes may not be suitable for all viewers. Please show some respect to your co-workers. Also, while these scenes terrified me, in clip format the impact may be somewhat lessened. But in the context of the movie as a whole (which is how every scene in every movie should be discussed), these scenes forced childish screams from me.
It goes without saying (but here I am saying it) that spoilers are indeed ahead.
So, in no particular order:
1) JAWS - the pond attack. This was the first attack by Spielberg's mechanical beast where the shark was glimpsed. That first image, the man scrambling to get out of the water onto the boat, the blurred head of the shark just beneath the surface pulling him under...I still hate deep water. Hate it hate it hate it. This was one of my first experiences with cinematic terror, and I still get nervous when I watch the film alone.
2) THE EXORCIST III - the hospital hallway attack. This under-appreciated second sequel to one of the seminal horror films of all time contained one absolute doozy of a suspenseful scene. The nurse works in silence. The camera tracks back and forth down the hallway. Nothing happens. Nothing happens. For minutes, nothing happens. Then - BAM! I screamed in the theatre, and believe me, I was not alone. William Peter Blatty (the author of the novel The Exorcist) has directed only two films, and this scene proved to me that he should direct more. The scene begins at 5:06 on the following clip:
3) MULHOLLAND DRIVE - the diner scene. David Lynch has never directed a full-bore horror movie, and for good reason; it would likely be unwatchable in its intensity. Has any other director gotten such suspense out of dark rooms? But in Mulholland Drive, the scene is far different from Lynch's penchant for black backgrounds and red velvet curtains. In this scene, two gentlemen meet in a diner, and one describes a dream he had. He talks about having the conversation he's having now, and then walking outside to a wall. At the end of the wall, a man appears. That's the dream. Then the men walk outside, and the entire dream occurs. Lynch tells you specifically what is going to happen ahead of time, and then shows you, and somehow he makes it terrifying.
4) THE THING - the walking head. We need some gore here, and John Carpenter's nihilistic classic has buckets of it. In this scene, a member of the arctic team has a heart attack, and in the course of applying a defibrillator, the movie reveals the man to be infected with the alien. The scene up to that point is grotesque and horrifying, as the alien is set ablaze. But the worst is to come: the man's head detaches itself from the body, sprouts legs, and scuttles away. For an overly impressionable fifteen-year-old, this was the ultimate amalgamation of gross and cool. See also; Cronenberg's The Fly. That movie freaked me right out. WARNING: DEFINITELY NOT FOR KIDS!
5) MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL - the rabbit. A little backstory is necessary here, as obviously Holy Grail is not a horror movie. But my parents had gone out to see the film, and had taken along me, a tyke of approximately three years of age. The majority of the film went right over my head, but that rabbit, that damnable rabbit haunted me for decades. I had never seen so much blood, so much gore, and I had nightmares for years. I never understood where they came from, and it was only when I was seventeen or so did I watch the film again. When I saw that scene, everything came flooding back. I tell you, the rabbit was a subconscious deliverer of everything evil to me (followed closely by the Legendary Black Beast of Arrrggghhh).
6) SCANNERS - exploding head. How could I fail to mention this, the most startling effect I'd ever seen up to that date. Still a classic. Plus, it began my lifelong love affair with all things Michael Ironside.
7) 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA - giant squid! Sure, it's more of a family film, but it's still one of the best family movies Disney ever produced. And that squid? Disney has NEVER filmed a cooler scene. Ever.
8) INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM - insects galore! I have a real bug phobia, I admit it. And this scene took me many, many tries to get through without squirming.
9) INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978) - the ending. This is one of those rare instances where the remake is superior to the original, which was damn fine to begin with. Director Philip Kaufman expands on Don Siegel's original vision, and keeps intact Siegel's original vision of a downer ending. There's Donald Sutherland, on a planet where he may be the only true human left. Veronica Cartwright sees him on a street, and motions to him. They're still human, right? And then, that godawful screech from Sutherland's mouth. He's an alien. Either he gave up, or he was overcome. Man, what a depressing finale, and one of the most haunting endings in film. Start at about 7:12 into this clip.
Directed by Aaron Norris (favorite bro of Bristle McSoloflex, and as fine a director as his sib is an actor), Delta Force 2 finds Punch Rockgroin leading some kind of anti-terrorist group, a leader so magnetic that no backstory or character development is necessary. After a friend is killed by Drago, The Beard with No Name works out his rage by kicking the snot out of his men in a training exercise and then traveling to South America for revenge, backed by the U.S. government.
It isn’t perfect; the script is undercooked, and the tiny budget betrays itself through clumsy action and ersatz effects. But Hardware, love it or hate it, is undeniably a pure product of Stanley’s mind, and
