Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Here it is folks, the post you've all been waiting for. After Saturday's grueling experience in cinematic terror, I opted to end on a high note. My personal fears and obstructions have been conquered, now it's time to relax with something much lighter. And what could be more lighter than a bunch of twelve-year-olds fighting monsters?
Count Dracula has assembled a group of evil creatures (consisting of the public domain versions of the Universal Monsters: Frankenstein, the Wolfman, the Mummy, the Creature From the Black Lagoon) and seeks to find an amulet that will give him the power to take over the world. But wouldn't you know it: the amulet's resting place is in the suburban United States, and the only thing standing in his way are a bunch of meddling kids who watch too many horror movies- the titular Monster Squad.
If one had to describe this film to a stranger (and one does because one is writing a blog post about it), one could say that it's something close to The Goonies coupled with the aforementioned Universal Monsters. The Monster Squad themselves are a bunch of hilariously foul-mouthed kids and the fact that the story is seen through their eyes makes it all the funnier (the corpulent member of the gang, the Chunk analogue, is named "Fat Kid"and the kindly old Holocaust-survivor who assists them in combatting the Forces of Evil is named "Creepy German Guy").
Aside from the kids who curse like longshoremen, I found this one to be a fitting capstone to October's adventures in horror. Grown-ups are always telling the Squad how monsters aren't real and horror movies and magazines are rotting their brains. But who do you want in your corner when the Wolfman attacks you? You'd probably want someone who's seen enough werewolf movies to know that the only way to kill one is to shoot him with a silver bullet, no explosions allowed.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
When I was in high school a friend, who shall remain nameless due to his current posting as an officer in the United States Army, entertained me with stories of Cannibal Holocaust, the "goriest, most disgusting and offensive movie ever made!" Intrigued at the notion of making such a claim to fame as having endured a cinematic ordeal of this type, we sought it out. Indeed, one day I found it a copy at a used record store. But when I brought my friend back to purchase the DVD, it was gone, vanished, forever mocking us. Now, six years later, I return to conquer the most extreme horror exploitation film ever made.
The plot of Cannibal Holocaust matters more than you think. It's premise was somewhat stolen/adapted by The Blair Witch Project many years later: a group of young filmmakers goes missing in the Amazon while making a documentary about the cannibal tribes that have lived undisturbed in the rainforest by civilized man since time immemorial. An anthropology professor (played with relative virtuosity by honest-to-god porn star Robert Kerman) is sent to find them, and after negotiating with one of the tribes is able to secure several canisters of film left behind by the missing expedition. What follows is a grisly orgy of murder, cannibalism, rape, and mutilation- all filmed with disquieting realism.
After years of buildup, Cannibal Holocaust didn't terrify me so much as it disturbed me. The killings and torture etc. featured in the film are brutal and shocking beyond most things the average filmgoer (and not-quite-average filmgoer such as myself) is used to, even in violent films. A lot of the stuff I can't even go into in a family-oriented blog like this one.
The goes is so excessive and realistic that director Ruggero Deodato was actually brought up on murder charges until he could prove that his actors were still alive. On top of that, there are a series of terrible actual animal killings in the movie that I genuinely found myself offended by. This all goes without saying that the depiction of the South American natives in this film is just out-and-out racist, but that's honestly the least of this film's crimes for some reason.
There's some attempts at social commentary through the frame narrative where a TV network is trying to show the footage for ratings, knowing that sensationalism equals cash. But the film seeks to condemn the very thing it indulges in, almost as if it's offended that you would even watch it. Cannibal Holocaust seemingly exists in a netherworld between grindhouse exploitation and serious art, or at least it thinks it does.
Having conquered the "Green Inferno" of Cannibal Holocaust, I honestly feel live a little worse of a person, but I suppose that's the price I pay for doing this feature.
But was it scary? Even for a seasoned gorehound such as myself, this was a bit much. I wasn't so much scared as depressed, even angered. This usually doesn't happen, people.
Final Verdict:0 Congos. Alright, I watched you, Cannibal Holocaust; I have no more need of you now.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
It's strange for us to think about it now, but there was a time not too long ago when all vampires were creepy European noblemen in spooky castles. Of course, many still are, but the vampire subgenre has gone though such transformations within the span of most of our lifetimes that they might be unrecognizable to old timers. At the forefront of this "revisionist vampire" movement was Academy Award-winning director Kathryn Bigelow's 1987 film Near Dark.
Transplanting vampirism from the dark forests of Transylvania to the Sooner State, Near Dark's bloodsuckers are a clan of outlaws on the run. Composed mostly of actors from Aliens (Bishop, Vasquez, Hudson) they roam across the American West bloodlettin' and gunfightin' to their cold dead hearts' content. However, things get complicated the groups's youngest member May turns small town teenager Caleb into a member of the undead and he has second thoughts on the whole "drinking the blood of the living" thing.
Along with films like Lost Boys, Near Dark serves as an example of filmmakers trying to make vampires into something vibrant and scary instead of corny again. Bigelow's vampires are more like rough-and-tumble cowboy hicks rather than goofy guys in capes and "Dracula medals". In fact, the vampires of Near Dark are never referred to as such, the "v-word" is never mentioned, and there are no fangs in sight. Couple this with the skills of a talented director and a great cast and you have a very satisfying cult hit. Bill Pullman in particular gives a great performance as Severen, the sadistic wild card of the bunch.
But was it scary? No, I don't remember being scared even once; just proving that vampires are more than fodder for matinee scares.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
In my long past youth, my local sci-fi/fantasy bookstore sold a book about Hammer Films, the British studio that made a bevy of horror movies in the 50's, 60's, and 70's. Full of posters and publicity stills of distinguished thespians in monster makeup and delicate English roses with heaving cleavage, Hammer has since held a near-legendary place in my culture psyche. When Sir Christopher Lee hurled himself into my life with the one-two punch of Saruman and Count Dooku during my freshman year of high school, Hammer became an even higher priority. But I never saw a Hammer film until last year when I rented the classic Hound of the Baskervilles (with Peter Cushing as Sherlock Holmes and Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville) in preparation for Guy Ritchie's own Holmes picture. Now, I rectify a mistake a decade in the making with (Horror of) Dracula.
Do we really need a synopsis? This is a Dracula movie. It's all a matter of how different from other Dracula movies it is. This one's pretty divergent from Bram Stoker's plot, moving the setting to Germany for some reason (but retaining British names and accents) and making Jonathan Harker a vampire hunting librarian. The point is Saruman is Dracula and Grand Moff Tarkin is Van Helsing. 'Nuff said.
This Hammer horror turned out pretty much how I thought it would: campy and wonderful. Is it a particularly well made film? Not really. Is it well-acted? If you like the taste of ham, sure. Is it necessary? Absolutely, and I say that with full knowledge of the number of Dracula movies out there. This must have been amazing as a matinee back in 1958, a great cheap way to blow an hour and a half. It's pretty obvious and not at all challenging, but oh the Technicolor!
But was it scary? Unless Christopher Lee with fluorescent red liquid dripping out of his mouth is the stuff of your nightmares, this shouldn't scare modern viewers in the least.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
I've seen four Guillermo del Toro movies in my time: Blade II, the Hellboy Duology, and Pan's Labyrinth. But I've never seen any of his early Spanish-language horror stuff, from the old days when he was an up-and-coming Mexican horrorsmith. I've only seen the stuff that's happened since he became a name and the studios gave him a budget. Last year I tackled The Orphanage, which he produced and so I figured now would be a very good time to see his early work, The Devil's Backbone.
Devil's Backbone is set during the Spanish Civil War and opens with Carlos, the son of a fallen Republican officer being brought to a remote orphanage that serves as a home for the children of dead freedom fighters. Upon arriving, Carlos notices the strange fear the other boys live in of "He Who Sighs", the local ghost. Soon, amidst the backdrop of an encroaching fascist victory in the outside conflict, the eerie hauntings and staff intrigue come to a head, and Carlos discovers that the ghost is almost as recent a resident as he is.
Devil's Backbone isn't as straightforward a horror movie as many of the others I've watched, a "gothic drama" might be a better description. There are very few "Boo!" moments considering this a ghost story. Santi, the restless spirit in question, pops up more as an eerie presence than as a scare tactic. The movie serves more as a tale of lost innocence amid historical drama with supernatural elements than as a study in terror. Though on the other hand, how narrow a definition do we ascribe to "horror" movies anyway?
But was it scary? As stated before, this is about as scary as any Spanish Civil War drama you've seen (it serves as a great companion piece to Pan's Labyrinth) and unless children in peril terrify you, you'll probably come out alright.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Around this time last year, a funny thing happened: ads started popping up for a remake of George A. Romero's little-discussed 1973 film The Crazies. I myself really didn't pay them any mind: "Oh great, another shitty remake of a horror movie. Oh, what's that? They have the Gary Jules version of "Mad World"? What, did David Fincher direct these ads? Who cares?" Well, apparently a lot of people ended up caring. 2010's own Crazies blazed a trail through the desolate winter box office and critics' reviews like a bat out of Hell. I had at one point planned on watching both the remake and the original in an effort to compare and contrast the two, but then I realized I didn't care and just wanted to see this sleeper.
Timothy Olyphant stars as a small town sheriff who witnesses the strange phenomenon of seemingly normal townsfolk turning from mild-mannered Middle Americans into dead-eyed psycho killers. It turns out that the government accidentally spilled an experimental biological weapon into the town's water supply and if the titular maniacs don't get Olyphant, the military quarantine crews will.
I'm reluctant to label Crazies one of the better horror films of the past decade but I might have to label Crazies one of the better horror films of the past decade. It isn't that original (duh): it's still the tried-and-tried Survivors Escape the Infected and The Government Is Also Evil movie but it hits all the right notes and delivers some good scares and setpieces. Seth Bullock vs. bonesaw is readily apparent as a standout, as is an attack in carwash. Sure it's leftovers, but sometimes reheated junk food tastes pretty good.
But was it scary? As scary as any of the recent zombie-esque genre films, but I'm a city boy from Minnesota so the sight of murderous Iowans is especially chilling for me.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
On the recommendations of Martin Scorsese and funnyman Patton Oswalt I found my way to the 1957 British horror classic Night of the Demon. Why shouldn't two of my favorite representatives of their respective fields as well as two fellow cinephiliacs point me in such a direction?
Night of the Demon is the story of American psychologist John Holden (Dana Andrews, he who "said prunes gave him the runes" in Rocky Horror's "Science Fiction Double Feature") who upon arriving in London for a conference discovers that his colleague Professor Harrington has died under mysterious circumstances. Along with his colleague's niece, he begins an investigation that leads him to the Crowley-esque leader of a Satanic cult. The warlock Karswell claims he put a curse on Harrington as revenge for the professor attempting to discredit his power, resulting in his death at the hands of an ancient demon. Holden believes it all to be balderdash until Karswell curses him as well. Now eerie occurrences seems to follow Holden wherever he goes and soon enough even he the skeptic fears he may fall prey to Karswell's demon.
As Marty said, the scariest part of Night of the Demon is what you don't see. According to legend, there was a disagreeement between the writer and director and the producer about whether to show the demon at all. The titular malevolent spirit does show up at the beginning and end of the picture but the film would lose nothing with its absence. What would be left (and is very much still there anyway) is a great battle between rationality and faith. Karswell claims supernatural powers but may very well be a charlatan. And are the seemingly diabolical events surrounded Holden the machinations of infernal forces or merely cleverly plotted tricks and coincidence? The answers are left up to the viewer to decide but what isn't questionable is the features spookiness.
But was it scary? The eponymous demon actually scared me a bit in its brief appearances; odd for such an old bit of creature effects to do, but this movie is plenty scary with or without it.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Ray Bradbury's pretty swell, I like him a lot. So when I discovered that there's a film adaptation of his dark-ish novel Something Wicked This Way Comes, I figured I should check it out. I was also intrigued by the concept of a kids' horror movie. Longtime readers will remember when I watched Poltergeist and found it a bizarre combination of Spielbergian family film and gory Texas Chainsaw Massacre splatter. So is there a way to make a horror movie for kids without compromising the scary necessities of the genre?
Taking Bradbury's own small town Illinois upbringing as an inspiration, Something Wicked tells the story of two young friends, Will and Jim, who are more than excited when the carnival comes to town. However, the carnival's proprietor Mr. Dark (Jonathan Pryce!) who claims to make dreams come true actually has much more nefarious purposes for coming to town, such as binding the townsfolk to serve him forever.
This is probably a movie I would have been really into as a kid: I'm a sucker for stories about boys going on adventures and escaping peril. But supposed offscreen conflicts about the film's tone and direction seem to have sabotaged the movie. Even by little kid standards, besides a swarm of spiders there's nothing too threatening here. Bradbury apparently wanted a much darker film but Disney wanted something more family friendly and therefore more bankable, although they claimed to be trying to get away from their reputation as an animation house for children. In the end we have a enjoyable film on our hands, but not something all that special.
But was it scary? I'm not sure what scares children, but I feel as though one would have to be pretty sheltered for this to legitimately freak them out. Though there's plenty of whimsy and derring-do to make it a good time.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
I return to the Great White North today for another horror movie: the Canadian teenage girl werewolf black comedy ("CaTeeGirWereWoBlaCom") Ginger Snaps.
Ginger and Brigitte are a weird pair of sisters: they're obsessed with death and all sorts of goth stuff. They're also, shall we say, "late bloomers" puberty-wise. When the elder Ginger finally gets her first period, she is also attacked by a lycanthrope (I hear their periods attract bears. They can smell the menstruation!) and soon her monthly cycle is taking a savage twist as she grows fur where there was no fur before and develops a taste for blood. Now it's up to Brigitte to find a cure or die trying.
I think the best way to describe Ginger Snaps is something along the lines of Heathers with werewolves and socialized medicine. The movie plays like a much-better-than-average teen comedy but with lots of murder and turning into a wolf at the full moon, which is definitely a strength. The fact that it works as well as a werewolf movie as it does as a keen glimpse into growing up and puberty and high school speaks volumes about the overall quality of the film. Ginger's coincidental blossomings into both beautiful young woman and feral monster works great. It's so effective that it makes me quite glad I was born a male, being a teenage girl looks like it sucks...or bites. Whatever.
But was it scary? Not especially, but this was probably one of the better ones I've seen this month because the minds behind it set out to actually, you know, tell a story instead of just making a vehicle to scare teenagers.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
When I was growing up, one of my favorite books (which of course only came out of its box during the Halloween Season) was Jan Pienkowski's Haunted Housepop-up book. Since those early days, I've always had a thing for old, haunted houses. Thusly, I approached The Amityville Horror with great enthusiasm.
Supposedly based on True Events, Amityville is the tale of George Lutz (James "P.W. Herman" Brolin) and his new wife Kathleen (Margot Kidder!). Along with Kathleen's three children, the new family moves into an old Dutch Colonial in Amityville on the south shore of Long Island (the film serves as good metaphor of the stress and anxiety of starting a new life). Of course, the house comes with a history: about a year earlier in the house, a young man had murdered his parents and four siblings in their sleep. Soon, strange voices are heard, doors are locking without locks, the dog is going crazy, flies are swarming, and curatesd are becoming violently ill upon setting foot on the property.
As far as haunted house movies go, Amityville has all the standard tropes: bleeding walls, built on a burial ground etc. And while it was fine experience, I couldn't help but think of better iterations of the haunted house subgenre. A scene involving the children locked in a closet with Brolin busted down the door with an axe conjured up fond memories of the far superior The Shining (though in Amityville's defense, Shining wouldn't come out for another year).
Also, I'm always bothered by films that claimed to be based on True Events. The problem is that this is all based on a family's story that their house was haunted (for which they were of course compensated when they sold the book/movie rights). At the end of the movie, what happens? Everyone is really scared and runs away. No one dies, nothing changes. The moral of the story? Some people got scared once- it might have actually happened, who knows?
The point is, whoever decided to shoot the side of the house so the windows look like the eyes on someone's face in every shot was a genius.
But was it scary? The house's "GET OUT" voice was really creepy. But the film relies on cheap scares sometimes. Example: Brolin kicks back and relaxes with a cigarette by a window. All of a sudden: "MEOW!", a random black cat jumps at the window, giving him a startle. Boy, you must be legitimately scared now, right? Now whose cat was that? What's that? It's never seen or mentioned ever again?
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Growing up, I had a big book about the history of comics. The first few chapters chronicled the general rise of comic books, even their pre-superhero days, as well as the implementation of the dreaded Comics Code. The Comics Code was created partially because of EC Comics whose Tales From the Crypt, Vault of Horror and other horror comics were being consumed by kids on a massive scale. The problem was these comics were grotesquely violent and grim by the standards of the Eisenhower era and yet were freely marketed and sold to teen and pre-teen boys. With the Code in place, horror comics suffered a massive setback; no longer was that black-hearted, cruelly ironic spirit allowed. Clearly, George A. Romero and Stephen King, two of the twentieth century's biggest names in horror, were nostalgic for those weird, wild days.
1982's Creepshow, a collaboration between the two aforementioned artists (director and screenwriter, respectively), explicitly presents itself as one of these old-timey horror comics. It is an anthology of five stories fully in the spirit of the EC comics of the creators' youths. A frame narrative gives us young Billy whose reactionary father throws his Creepshow in the garbage, because that's what mean ol' dads do. We are then given the stories contained therein.
In "Father's Day", a murdered patriarch seeks vengeance (and cake) from beyond the grave. "The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill" gives us Stephen King as a hick from Maine (natch) who encounters a meteorite that causes an outbreak of alien flora across his farm, resulting in a lonely death. "Something to Tide You Over" features a cuckolded Leslie Nielsen burying Ted Danson up to his neck on the beach, causing him to drown and return from the grave as a drowned zombie. "The Crate" tells the story of college professor Hal Holbrook encountering the titular cargo box and discovering a vicious monster within, which he then uses for his own purposes. And finally, "They Creeping Up On You" stars E.G. Marhsall as an cruel germophobe who gets his comeuppance via a massive swarm of cockroaches.
Creepshow bring the fun and dark humor of the fifties horror comic books to life. The tone of almost laughably mean-spirited gallows humor is a rarity among modern tastes (save Sam Raimi's excellent Drag Me To Hell, which was also directly influenced by EC). Another film this reminded me of was Trick 'r Treat, which I watched last year and really liked: same anthology idea, same comic book feel, same tone.
As someone who grew up reading old horror comics, Creepshow was a welcome addition to my movie knowledge.
But was it scary? Not in the least, it was too much damn fun- which may have been a shortcoming now that I think about it.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Back in my teenage years, I was a big anime fan (we prefer the term otaku, thank you very much...) and before that I had a lifelong love of Godzilla movies (um, the word is daikaiju...). In fact, when I made an eleven-year-old appearance on the children's game show Zap It!, my "fun fact" was that I owned every single Godzilla movie (at the time there were twenty-two). So basically we can all agree that I have an above average level of familiarity with Japanese pop culture. Pulse is just another example of that.
A group of Tokyo residents (Tokyers?) begins experiencing strange occurrences after one of their friends commits suicide, namely that a series of ghastly images begin appearing on their computers when they connect to the internet. Apparently, the hard drive of the afterlife is full and ghosts from the spirit world have begun seeping into our own.
Pulse continues the grand J-horror tradition that I am just now beginning to acquaint myself with. I've talked before about Japan and the rest of East Asia's idiosyncratic horror tradition: the visual cues that the Eastern horror canon is based around. We all are familiar at this point with the onryō, the Japanese ghost made famous in the West by the American remake The Ring. The ghosts in Pulse had for me the same sort of Orientalist strange otherness. Appearing as jerkily moving shadowy figures, they were spooky in their own unique way.
I think the best thing for a successful horror movie is to make the viewer scared of one everyday thing. Psycho made its audience afraid to take a shower, Nightmare on Elm Street made them scared to fall asleep, and hopefully Pulse will make you think twice about staying up all night browsing Wikipedia.
But was it scary? Sure. What really was strange about this (and I imagine a great deal of J-horror films) was the lack of breaks in the tension. No comic relief characters who get killed while trying to get laid, just loneliness and death.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
The always-theatrical Rob Zombie made the leap from musician to horror movie auteur with 2003's House of 1000 Corpses (say what you will, sweet title) with the intention of making horror movies "like they used to" full of schlock and gore without any redeeming social value. The aforementioned film's sequel, The Devil's Rejects, continues that grand tradition.
The eponymous band (whose name conjures up a track from Morrissey's most underrated album, probably not intentional on Zombie's part, I imagine) is a family of serial killers now on the lam after the blood-soaked events of House of 1000 Corpses (or so I've been told). The three surviving members- Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig), Otis (Bill Moseley), and Baby Firefly (Sheri Moon Zombie- the director's wife, go figure), flee their bloody compound after a brother of one of their victims swears revenge and brings down the full righteous force of the law on their heads. Fleeing their bloodthirsty nemesis, the bloodthirsty trio torture and murder their way across Texas in an attempt to continue torturing and murdering their way across Texas.
Despite some very well written and often-hilarious dialogue, Zombie's film succumbs to horror's oldest threat which is to place the substance of storytelling below the substances that flow out of the human body when it's hacked apart: gore over story, one could say. An attempt to make a more "extreme" horror film ends up putting style over substance and what we're left with is essentially an extended homage to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre complete with 1970's Texas setting and serial killer families. If not for some actual good dark humor throughout, this one might be have been a near-worthless torture-fest.
But was it scary? Gory to the extreme, and always in bad taste, but rarely frightening. However, children of the 90's will be forever scarred for two Nickelodeon-related reasons: 1) E.G. Daly, the voice of Tommy Pickles among others, plays a prostitute and 2) Kenan's Dad (who, holy crap, was Peter from Dawn of the Dead!) plays her pimp, and engages in a discussion with a redneck about the merits of buggering poultry.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
I was recommended Def By Temptation by a friend and fellow traveler down the road of horror cinema. What I first imagined to be a somewhat ironic descent into Tromatown U.S.A., I acutally walked away with a rather satisfying (though admittedly quite corny) movie under my belt.
Temptation's hero Joel is played by writer/director/producer James Bond III (presumably the son of James Bond Jr.) and is a young minister-in-training having a momentary crisis of faith, leading him to visit his aspiring actor friend K in Brooklyn. While staying with K, Joel meets a (unnamed) beautiful woman who attempts to lead him off his godly path and into...well, you can guess. As it turns out, the woman is a succubus and wants to get all black widow on him (which is to say mate with and then kill).
As I said, I was really expecting Def By Temptation to be worth a few laughs, and it does deliver those (Bill "Radio Raheem" Nunn shows up as an undercover monster hunter with an amazing library of bad/awesome pick-up lines and the 1990 production date shows in some hilarious jheri-curled ways, it seriously looks like something out of "Charlie Murphy's True Hollywood Stories"). I actually found myself being genuinely entertained most of the time! A scene that was straight-up ripped-off from James Woods' sticking his head in the TV in Videodrome was pretty cool and bloody.
It should be said though that a film about resist the temptations of Hell-borne succubi by being righteous and god-fearing, yet filled with sex and violence, comes across as a little hypocritical (looking at you, ICP!) and proves that those most likely to preach against fun stuff like the aforementioned bonin' and killin' are the ones secretly most likely to get off on it. Go figure.
But was it scary? There were a few visuals that were fear-inducing but at the end of the day this is far too much of a b-picture to disturb you. Plenty of fun though.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
O, Canada: land of my fathers, land of David Cronenberg. I've encountered the master of body horror before, and I figured why not face him again? I loved Videodrome, as well as The Fly and Scanners, so any excuse to better familiarize myself with the director's filmography under the auspices of something vaguely resembling a work assignment was a welcome opportunity. Enter The Brood.
Oliver Reed plays Dr. Hal Raglan, a psychiatrist pursuing an unorthodox technique called "psychoplasmics". Basically, he induces his patients to manifest their neuroses, anxieties, rage, fear, and all negative feelings into physical form as therapy. One man develops welts all over his body, another contracts lymphatic cancer, but most horrifying of all, his patient Nola (Samantha Eggar, the girl from The Collector) spawns a brood of deformed monstrous children that take out her anger at her abusive parents and menace her husband and five-year-old daughter.
As is Cronenberg's M.O., The Brood's horror comes from the strangeness of one's own body, and Dr. Raglan's psychoplasmatics are a scary thing indeed. While Nola's true condition isn't revealed until the third act, its final reveal and what comes of it is disgusting.
But was it scary? The eponymous brood does some jump scares but sometimes they come off less as scary, sickening monsters than as the Murderous Moppets from The Venture Bros. Nola birthing one and licking it clean, though? Scary as the day is long.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Kids are creepy. There's no two ways about it. There's got to be some sort of psychological explanation for why we as a species find our own young so damn horrifying. I'm not sure whether its some Freudian thing rooted in our primitive origins or something about aging but whatever it is, movies like Who Can Kill a Child? don't help the situation.
Tom and Evelyn are a nice English couple with two children and another on the way. The two of them decide to take a holiday in Andalusia, specifically the island of Almanzora, where Tom vacationed as a young man. They arrive on the island to find it suspiciously devoid of adults, but full of murderous children. The end result begs for a sequel entitled "Who WOULDN'T Kill a Child?".
The film opens with a graphic series of film clips describing the worst atrocities of the Twentieth Century (the Holocaust, First Indo-Pakistani War, Vietnam, Nigerian Civil War) and in particular the astonishing toll they take on children (apparently more than half of all deaths were children). Who Can Kill a Child? essentially poses the question what if the kids simply had enough and fought back? The results however, are less "Hey, Teacher! Leave them kids alone!" and more Children of the Corn.
But was it scary? The terror visited upon the holidayers is a pulls-no-punches affair: brutal and horrifying. The historical footage of the film's prologue is the worst, however. No matter how good a filmmaker you are, nothing is as scary as the real thing.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
My investigation into Asian horror cinema deepens with this week's entry, Thirst, and while it's not my favorite, I am finding the spooky offerings of the Orient to be to my liking.
Sang-hyun is a devout Catholic priest working with the terminally ill. His sense of duty and piety leads him to submit to a controversial medical procedure meant to cure a deadly disease. However, something goes wrong and after a blood transfusion, Sang-hyun has transformed into a bloodsucking vampire. Soon, he begins questioning his faith (of course) and finds that he thirsts not just for the blood of the living but also all things illicit and begins a steamy affair with his friend's wife.
Thirst wasn't as horror-ific as some of the other movies on my list, but that was in no way to its detriment. Directed by South Korean auteur Park Chan-wook (famed for his Vengeance Trilogy, Oldboy in particular), Thirst, while spilling its fair share of blood, functions less as a scare-fest and more as a study of morality and evil. Sang-hyun starts out as holy man but once he is afflicted with vampirisim he begins a downward spiral into sin on several levels. Sure, any horror movie could stand to be scarier, but its much easier to make a better movie when you have complex metaphors for man's sinful nature, don't you think?
But was it scary? Most of the blood in this feature was used for kinky sex rather than vampiric sustenance. No complaints here.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Growing up, I'm pretty sure I denied myself a childhood. I was a big fan of the sleepover, and who wasn't? Getting to stay up late with your best friends, eating junkfood, watching movies; what could be better? I was something of a wet blanket at these from time to time because my well-documented aversion to scary movies constantly left me vetoing films of the type. Basically what I'm saying is I never got to see Scream.
Scream's schtick is a well-known pop culture hallmark at this point. Hell, it even spawned a series of popular parody films that went crazy off the rails and are now directly responsible for the rise of the Friedberg/Seltzer shame factory. Someone's killing photogenic teens in the small town of Woodsboro, CA and tormenting their victims with slasher movie trivia. Could it be the no-good boyfriend? The horror movie nerd? The dad who has conveniently left town the day before? Everyone's a suspect (except Neve Campbell, of course) and basic working knowledge of how horror movies work might be the only way to stay alive.
This one was directed by Wes Craven and is extremely self-conscious about it. The characters all openly talk about horror movie cliches and how it they're in a horror movie as the ghostfaced killer picks them off one by one. Scream is something of a generational touchstone I suppose because it made its teenage audience of the time worry not that they were just being tormented by masked psycho-killer but that they were being tormented by a masked psycho-killer from one of those movies they like watching. Funny Games it ain't, but it's certainly a fun commentary on the way film affects us, even though it purposefully follows the tropes it seemingly upends.
But was it scary? I'm sure if I was a teenager, this might have scared me, but I was having too much damn fun. And at times I think it's honestly too silly to really be frightening.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
Any serious student of horror cinema will tell you that the 2000's have seen a significant dearth of real decent scary movies. Nowadays, horror movies are more about cheap jump scares, pornographic gore, and shitty remakes than they care concerned with creating something memorable and terrifying. Audiences are merely given an incentive to fill seats in a theater and waste a couple hours being "scared". The 1980's were something of a golden age for horror, and those are the days last year's The House of the Devil harkens back to.
Samantha (Jocelin Donahue) is a college student in a bind: she's found a house to rent to get away from her crappy roommate and finally have some independence, but she's short on cash. Finding a sketchy ad requesting a babysitter, she responds only to find the creepy Ulman family and their creepy Victorian house on the edge of town, across the street from a graveyard. Discovering that there is no child to babysit and the real job entails watching the unseen grandmother of the family, a desperate Samantha accepts. Alone in the house at night, a feeling of dread and evil creeps over her, and soon she discovers who really owns this house...(you can guess from the title)
Shot in the style and using the techniques (16mm! Camera zooms! VHS!) of 70's and 80's horror movies, House of the Devil reminds its viewers of a time when scary movies were scary and when genuine chills surpassed excess and irony.
Most of the film's ninety minute runtime are spent merely focusing on Samantha's night and routine in the house. Every board creak and every gust of wind is terrifying. Despite some staccatos of violence perpetrated to characters outside the house, the movie doesn't become a full on scare-fest until its final fifteen minutes. Even though it opens with a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Satanism scare of the 1980's and how the story is "based on actual events", it is generally played straight which makes is scarier.
But was it scary? Don't watch this movie while home alone, especially if you're housesitting.
Each day in October, intrepid blogger Alex Boivin will watch a horror movie. These movies are all new to him and are part of his month-long effort to fill in his gaps in the horror canon. If he doesn't die from fright, you just might get to read about about his exploits in cinema during the Halloween season.
George A. Romero is the father of the modern zombie; the "Zomfather", if you will. Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead are considered genre, if not film classics, and Day of the Dead and Land of the Dead (are you noticing a pattern here?) are nothing to sneeze at in their own right. But you really wouldn't guess that from Survival of the Dead.
Picking up the story of a minor character from 2007's (apparently) ill-fated (I haven't seen it and from what I hear you shouldn't either) Diary of the Dead, Survival follows a group of rogue soldiers robbing and raiding their way through the zombie apocalpyse. Coming across news of an offshore safe haven, they make their way to Plum Island, only to discover a feud between two local families: one who believe that the zombies should be destroyed swiftly and harshly and another that refuses to kill them, hoping for a cure or at least rehabilitation. Would you believe me if I told you it all goes to hell?
I was intrigued by the film's plot and the prospect of another Romero zombie masterpeice, but what I found was the very definition of disappointment. Romero's movies aren't exactly famed for their budget, realism (check the bright red "comic book" blood in Dawn), or acting, but what they are known for is a well-exemplified social commentary through (scary) horror movie tropes. Night dealt with sixties paranoia, Dawn with consumerism, Day with the military, and Land with the rich/poor divide. There's some stuff here about religious fundamentalism and hypocrisy but it isn't deal with until the last twenty minutes or so and feels very tacked on and weak.
Also, the film is played for far too many laughs. I'm not saying that a zombie movie (at least one that isn't claiming to be a comedy a la Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland, both amazing) can't have its funny moments but this one is overboard to the extreme. There's also the question of why an island off the coast of Delaware is populated entirely by people with Irish accents. It seems like the local community theater had just finished a production of Dancing at Lughnasa and the actors forgot to stop doing their characters' dialect when they were inevitably hired for this movie, which is also my way of saying the acting is bad.
There's also a stupid teenager who complains about people not being cool and shows off his iPhone to everyone, despite the fact that this is the end of the goddamn world and nobody gives a shit that you can watch YouTube videos on your phone. How does the internet still work? Where are you getting this electricity?
But was it scary? Zombies are just kind of silly unless they inspire some kind of dread in you, which this movie is tonally incapable of. You also have to care if someone does or does not get eaten alive by them, which I was actively rooting for here, especially in the case of that goddamn kid.
