NOTE: Read more about super cool MAXX FX over at good ol' FANGORIA!
Author: unkle lancifer
Martyrs
I had to see MARTYRS since everyone seemed to be talking about it. The problem was, I was just not in the mood. I know the French have been kicking ass lately in the horror arena, but lately I have been more keen on the goofy spitball fun of a film like DRAG ME TO HELL rather than the drag me through the mud endurance test of something like FRONTIER(S). I mean I loved FRONTIER(S), but it left me covered with a layer of mental soap scum that even OXI CLEAN could not remove. From what I had heard about MARTYRS it was not exactly TEEN WITCH. Horror cred be damned, when I was honest with myself, I thought I'd rather be hanging out in Stars Hollow than chained to a metal chair in an abandoned warehouse being spoon-fed gruel for two hours.
Much of that apprehension was lifted in an introduction to the film available on the DVD where director PASCAL LAUGIER invited me to hate his movie as much as I liked, and that I should feel free to hate him on a personal level too. When he added that he was not so sure if he liked the movie or himself either, I was putty in his hands. (I just can't resist self effacement, like letter writing and macramé, it's a dead art. ) Plus, PASCAL was standing in front of what appeared to be his impressive DVD library (size does matter); I think I've found my new BFF! When can I come over?
So as it turns out my new pal, that little rascal PASCAL, made a very powerful movie that yours truly happily did not enjoy in the least! I kept flashing back to my older brother's non-hilarious routine of holding my head under water in the family swimming pool until I was nearly dead. MARTYRS is just merciless. I wanted to turn it off a million times but I couldn't. It's absolute torture, plain and simple, sparked by moments of serene beauty and peace. It's exactly the horrible, yet gratifying experience I was afraid it was going to be. Good job PASCAL, you nut!
Set up like a FRANCIS BACON triptych, the first part is a nasty revenge flick, the second, psychological horror (some great stuff about nursing your own demons there) and the third part is…wholly crap… I dunno, TURISTAS interpreted by TARKOVSKY? All I know is that it made my little head hurt. Some complain that the film's conclusion reads like an empty afterthought to justify its ape shit violence, but I disagree. I think the intention was to put the viewer through a similar spirit-breaking desensitizing ordeal as the film's protagonists. PASCAL then brilliantly leaves some empty canvas for the viewer to paint themselves (a literal white space in one instance). Are you a victim to the film's violence and see nothing, or are you a MARTYR who sees more?
MARTYRS is about as much fun as a baby on an airplane, but as it forces you to think about the horror of human cruelty. It also takes time to honor the endurance of those who suffer and to salve their wounds. When in the heart of its bleakest moment a character conjures the voice of a dead loved one to spur her further on, it sprouts a rose in a field of manure whose fragrance over powers all. Like a sonnet written with a blood-soaked mop or a lullaby with crashing symbol accompaniment, MARTYRS' harsh delivery might be a hurdle for some, but there is something here beyond the savagery. Scratching off the upper layer of deceptive sadism will reveal a film with a healthy fascination with the choices one makes in response to hardship and the very human question of whether it is all worth it. PASCAL, consider me a reluctant convert.
Traumafession:: There is a zombie on my lawn!
NOTE: Learn more about PLANTS VS. ZOMBIES over HERE
Kindertrauma Funhouse!
Little is known about Mother Nature besides the fact that she is bonkers for butter, hates to be corrected and will jam a lightening bolt up your backside if you cross her. Many films have been made depicting her infamous fury and relentless grudge against mankind. Below are ten random images from ten such films. How many can you correctly identify?
Traumafessions :: Reader Ralphus on the Darkside of Debbie Harry
As a boy watching TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE, I couldn't help being envious of young MATTHEW LAWRENCE. To me, his involvement as the prisoner of DEBORAH HARRY seemed both terrorizing and titillating. DEBBIE is calm and cool, caging this boy and getting ready to cook him for dinner. Meanwhile, the middle LAWRENCE child desperately reads stories from this book in an attempt to distract her, and hopefully keep himself off the menu. My point being that at a young age, I found myself completely attracted to Chef DEBBIE's dominance over little MATTHEW. Even though it would have been terrifying, I always wished that I could switch places and be that boy in the cage, while the Blonde One pre-heated the oven, as well as my libido. Was I the only youngster to be turned on by this scenario? I still think TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE holds up today as a great and scary film, and my fantasies of being Ms. HARRY's little pet to be devoured have never gone away. Eat to that beat!
UNK SEZ: Ralphus, I second your love of DEBBIE but maybe not the cage thing so much. Did you know that currently you can watch TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE on the Youtubes starting HERE? Plus, check out this traumafession on the movie's segment THE CAT FROM HELL right around over HERE!
An American Werewolf in London
I suppose it was only a matter of time until a remake was announced for 1981s AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON. It's only one of the best horror films ever made so I'm sort of surprised it took them this long. (I guess its lackluster 1997 "sequel" AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN PARIS probably slowed things down.) All I know is that no matter how good the remake might end up, it will never have the atomic bomb effect on me that the original did. You see, that crazy movie had the nerve to land smack dab in the middle of a horror movie that was happening in my own life: a horror movie called "puberty". Although that time period is far, far in the rear view mirror, AMERICAN WEREWOLF will always bring to my mind the fear of losing control of my body and the confusing rush of energy that made me kind of like it.
I realize that the interwebs are the ultimate mixed company, so I'll spare you the gruesome details and keep my paws on the table at all times. The sad, dreary, basic truth is that JOHN LANDIS' lycanthropic opus pushed sweet innocent me off a cliff and I have not seen that poor creature since. Up until then adulthood was a destination that I thought was cater made for unimaginative rubes. The prospect of jumping on the coffin conveyer belt did not appeal to me in the slightest. You could pitch fame and fortune to me until the cows came home; I did not care; I wanted to be alone with my STAR WARS figurines. The shower scene in AMERICAN WEREWOLF between DAVID NAUGHTON and JENNY AGUTTER changed all that; this mortal coil now had my full attention. Sure, I was still torn between which of those fine thespians to ogle, but I rightfully figured that eventually that would all come out in the wash.
Truth be told, the avalanche of early eighties body transformation movies ALL seemed to be directly speaking to my guilt ridden, yet wide-eyed and bushy-tailed libido in training wheels; CAT PEOPLE (If you touch me I'll turn into a monster!) THE HOWLING (Everybody is in on this secret except me!) THE BEAST WITHIN (My parents must never know of the creature I've become!),VIDEODROME ( Holy crap. I'm like a RICK JAMES level Super Freak!) and even JOHN CARPENTER'S THE THING (A young me stands up in class, raises his hand and says, "Here!") The general that lead this dysmorphic brigade though, had to have been none other than AMERICAN WEREWOLF. Gosh, they even ventured inside a porno movie theater in that one, plus it was the first time I ever heard the term "quickie."
Putting lasciviousness aside, AMERICAN WEREWOLF successfully popped the top off of every other bottle in my six-pack as well. It scared the living daylights out of me (I still remember the spooky, at dusk, trek home after the movie.) It made me laugh my head off with sick glee (The dead woman in the movie theater smiling through bloody teeth helpfully offering, "You just put the gun to your forehead and pull the trigger!" as a way for our hero to escape his dilemma, still cracks me up), and, call me a softy, but the authentic affection shared between NAUGHTON and AGUTTER actually did seem like a worthwhile experience to shelve my action figures for. It's not the easiest thing in the world to incorporate all of these divergent elements together so smoothly but while JOHN LANDIS was kicking my ass out of childhood, he made a kick ass movie as well, one whose potency might be very hard to emulate in this day and age. Good luck remake people! You'll need it!
NOTE: It is important to note that Mr. DAVID NAUGHTON was successfully able to elbow JENNY AGUTTER out of the ogle race eventually (not that the WALKABOUT star didn't put up a good fight). What can I say? I guess was born to be a "Pepper!"
Kindertrauma Funhouse
Being dead is a hot new craze that is sweeping the nation just in time for summer! Fashion experts say it's the new being alive. Those who have partaken in the experience verify that it stops the aging process in its tracks and that dieting and acquiring wealth become immediate non issues. "Death is like a vacation that never ends," says Pam Hildenberry editor of MODERN CORPSE magazine. She adds "Life is so yesterday, as soon as I find out what the hell MICHELLE FORBES has up her sleeve on TRUE BLOOD I'm out of here."
Kindertrauma in its never ending quest to be the hippest website in the world jumps on the death bandwagon with this fresh new puzzle honoring those early upstarts who made death the cultural phenomenon it is today. Can you name these famous dead stars and the films they appeared in? You better hurry, the clock is ticking!
Traumafessions :: Reader Senski on "It's Ten O'Clock"
I don't think that anyone has addressed this trauma yet, and I'll wager that this is one that more than a few of us out there share…
"It's ten o'clock…Parents, do you know where your children are?" Since the 1960s, that's been a familiar late-night refrain from the bumper of many a local newscast. Its treatment varies with each station, some quite benign, but in Central Wisconsin in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, the local CBS affiliate dealt with it in truly ominous fashion. They had the announcer who also did the severe weather bulletins handle the voice-over, a sepulchral "voice of doom" who stressed the "your" with dark portent. It was implied that if your kids were out there, they were up to something horrible…that is, if you heard it as a call against juvenile delinquency.
See, on my channel, it was also accompanied by a black and white title card of an over-sized clock face. Running along the bottom were ghostly silhouettes of children, no older than 10 or 12, even some toddlers among them. (I can still see the little girl in a skirt and pigtails.) This wasn't THE WILD BUNCH we had to be on the lookout for – these were happy little children who could disappear at any time…and their mommies and daddies wouldn't be able to find them! I knew of other kids in my school who refused to even step outside of the house after 10pm lest they be snatched away forever by whatever lurked outside. It was never that bad with me, but it sure made me pull the covers up a little tighter – especially on Wednesday nights, after I had just seen NIGHT GALLERY on NBC.
But that's not all. This advisory was immediately followed by a commercial, frequently a spot for a movie that was being shown at one of our five area cinemas. Since horror films were usually platformed across the country and needed local media to be sold, this was when we got to see ads for films like LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, DON'T LOOK IN THE BASEMENT, and for me the most memorable of the lot, 1973's TORSO:
Nighty-night, kiddies, huh? I can still hear my mother saying "Jeez!" as she saw that! Ten o'clock was Terror Time, just another reason why the '70s were magical for a young horror fan.
UNK SEZ: It's 10 o'clock do you know where JOAN RIVERS is? Senski, it looks like the old ten o'clock parental heebie jeebie alert is still going on to this day. Watch this bizarre oddity I caught while fishing about the YouTubes (WARNING: This video may contain trace amounts of JOELY FISHER)…
Michael Jackson :: The Good, the Bad & the Monkey
I'm really sad about this whole MICHAEL JACKSON being dead thing, but I have found some solace in the fact that it seems that everywhere I have gone in the last couple days his music is being played. I have to say, "The Way You Make Me Feel" and "Off the Wall" are a lot better than I remembered. On the other hand, the resurgence of "Dirty Diana" is really starting to get on my last nerve. I HATE that song and no amount of untimely death seems able to cure me of that distaste. The chorus alone sounds like how it must feel to have someone remove a blackhead from the tip of your nose with a rusty chisel. M.J., What were you thinking?
I know this has a questionable (or perhaps alleged) affinity with the subject of kindertrauma, but out of curiosity and an honest desire to speed along the grieving process, I ask you dear readers: What is your favorite AND least favorite tune by the King of Pop? I know talking about your least favorite song might seem like a negative way to recognize the recently departed, but if Mike has taught us anything it is that sometimes you have to take the good with the BAD (pun recognized).
So spill your guts kids. What M.J. song begrudgingly gets your toe tapping and what song still makes you want to smack an anonymous stranger over the head with a 2 X 4?
