kindertrauma

Category: General Horror

A Nightmare on A-hole Street

Posted on By unkle lancifer

So I just watched every NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET film back to back and all I have to say (besides what happened to my life?) is…

all the adult residents of Springwood, Ohio are A-holes!

No, it's not because they formed a vigilante mob and burned a man alive, it's not their fault the American judicial system is a joke, and no, it's not because they kept it a secret, nobody likes a braggart. It's because every single second of every day they go out of their way to act as loathsome, nasty and obnoxious as humanly possible. Not for one second do they seem capable of behaving like non-A-holes.

You have to love it, is there any other horror series that exploits the chasm between teenagers and adults as proudly and as prominently as N.O.E.S.?

All of Springfield's adults are horrible. They are what the teens fear becoming: hypocrites, sell-outs, drunken floosies and cold insensitive jerks. The teens depicted seem just as scared of transforming into their parents as they are of being slashed by Freddy the dream demon. No wonder Krueger was able to slip into the role of antihero. He may be a murderous douche but at least he had a purpose and wasn't a soulless cog. (Not only did Freddy have a soul, he collected surplus souls like trading cards.)

I used to think that Freddy Krueger was a personification of the adult residents of Springwood's past mistakes, mistakes that their children must now account for. But "Screw your pass!" as Nancy would say, the adults have more to answer for than just their treatment of Freddy and their amoral behavior is obviously current and ongoing.

The "Mom and Dad just don't understand" bit has been around in horror at least since THE BLOB (1958) but the popular slasher series that predate N.O.E.S. had little interest in it. HALLOWEEN shows adults as ineffectual but still good-natured and the FRIDAY THE 13TH series presented them as, for the most part, the clean up crew after the slaughter. Sure F13's Pam Voorhees was an adult but she was not an established authority figure and the prophets of doom like "Crazy Ralph" had their heart in the right place. Pam Voorhees, like Freddy, at least had a reason to be pissed off, the adult denizens of Springfield have no real excuse for sneering and hissing like Batman villains whenever they get a moment of screen time.

(NOTE: Post N.O.E.S. both other series mentioned adopted the adult as A-hole trope, perhaps to play keep up (F13: PART 7's evil shrink and PART 8's slimy principal/uncle for example or HALLOWEEN 6's abusive Strode patriarch).

"You face things, that's your nature, that's your gift but sometimes you have to turn away too."- Marge Thompson (RONEE BLAKLEY)

The mold was built in the very first NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET. Nancy's mom is a lush and her father is an aloof promise breaker. They're not as diabolical as the parents to come but they are presented as people who, rather than conquer problems, bury and ignore them. Adulthood is shown as an almost zombie-like state of being where desires (dreams) are neatly tucked away and morality is an unaffordable luxury.

"Morality sucks."- Glen Lantz (JOHNNY DEPP)

"Whatever you do, don't fall asleep!" Nancy Thompson (HEATHER LANGENCAMP)

Sleep is the enemy on Elm Street, that's when you become susceptible to the monster your parents built. We all know there's a time period in every teens life in which they learn to begin to question the world around them and how it functions. People tend to make light of it and it's considered idealistic folly that won't last very long. Eventually the teen will have to buckle down, forget such romantic notions and pull their weight. Eventually they'll give into their culture's will. Eventually they'll "grow up."

"I look twenty years old!"- Nancy Thompson (HEATHER LANGENCAMP)

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET was released in November of 1984, a renaissance period for teens in American film. Less than three months later JOHN HUGHES' THE BREAKFAST CLUB would hit screens carrying the line "When you grow up your heart dies." I won't pretend to know what's in the hearts and minds of teenagers these days but it does scare me to think that they may be running toward rather than away from the adult "sleep" that beckons them. Trust me kids, you don't have to hurry to catch up with that bus, another one will be around to pick you up soon enough…

In the original N.O.E.S., sheep can be heard baying on the soundtrack and seen roaming in Freddy's boiler room. We count sheep to go to sleep but sheep are also known for their docility and the ease of which they are herded to follow.

It's easy to mistake the film's first kill to be part of the "sex kills" finger wagging that slasher films are often wrongly accused of. In Tina's (AMANDA WYSS) case though, her death can be seen as retribution for falling not far enough away from the tree. In a brief earlier scene director WES CRAVEN has written a bathroom wall's worth of derogatory implications about Tina's Mom. Ultimately though personal behavior has little to do with your outcome on Elm Street. If you're an Elm Street kid, your parents signed you up for this hell ride years ago.

Freddy is a bad, bad man, I'm not trying to discount that but it's important to remember who created him. Ironically, in the Springwood we're shown throughout the series he does not seem to be the only adult with the goal of destroying children (or childhood) on his to-do list. As the series progresses the implication that the parents we are shown are of the same mind is everywhere and the fear of old age and being forced to follow in the previous generations footsteps becomes more and more wrecking ball obvious. Check out Alice (LISA WILCOX) in NOES Part 4: THE DREAM MASTER…

Hey, I watched all of those movies so I could review them and I totally forgot to do that so here goes: The first one is great and then they all sort of get progressively worse except PART 3: THE DREAM WARRIORS which might be even better than the first one. How's that?

I have to admit I still enjoy the entire series but they don't all hold up exceptionally well (or maybe I'm just getting old.) It's still a massively creative franchise and I feel like I've finally found the ace it had hidden up its sleeve all this time. A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET plays on a teenager's rightful fear of loosing their vitality and optimism, of becoming callous and dispassionate and a weak, fearful member of the herd. Come to think of it maybe that's a fear we should all, at any age, keep firmly in our grip. Maybe we should hold on to that fear with a razor sharp metal glove if we have to…

WAIT: I'm not done yet! I present you with a rogue's gallery of Springwood's awful adults. Thanks go to the ageless Aunt John for my title:

A NIGHTMARE ON A-HOLE STREET!

Vampire's Kiss

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Have you ever been disappointed by a film only to stumble across it decades later and find it to be a head smacking work of absolute brilliance? That's my story with VAMPIRE'S KISS. What was I thinking way back in ‘88 when I shrugged this slice of genius off? I guess young Unk was expecting something different (a straight up horror flick) and was just too rigid to go with the funky flow. Well, a changed mind is an open mind I always say and I'm just glad this flick sauntered back into my life. VAMPIRE'S KISS is not your traditional vampire tale; it's a raven black cult comedy, a portrait of a soul longing to connect while dismantling in the process and a "Wish you here!" post card from late eighties, late night New York. It was written by JOSEPH MINION, the guy who wrote MARTIN SCORSESE's AFTER HOURS and maybe if I was privy to that nugget of info way back when, I wouldn't have been so dense to the film's modus operandi. Truth be told though, I think one needs a bit of life experience, a couple of their own soul sucking vampire encounters, to truly appreciate what's going on.

NICOLAS CAGE is Peter Loew an insecure egoist with some real intimacy issues. Here's a guy who wants to fall in love but fears losing himself in the process. One night stands do little to appease his needs and the only sense of self importance he can attain is through vicious power plays at his yuppie job and temper tantrums performed before his therapist (ELIZABETH ASHLEY). He has an interested, fun-loving romantic interest at his disposal, Jackie (KASI LEMMONS), but his head and heart itch for the acceptance of an unattainable beauty, who rebuffed him, Rachael (JENNIFER BEALS). One night a bat flies into his apartment (is it real? I don't know), and he finds his battle with it more arousing than the available Jackie. Clearly Peter is more excited by the "mortal combat" of love, not the actual attainment of it. From this point on he falls into a pit of fantasy where he is owned and can be loved by a nonexistent vampiric entity. In the made up world inside his head, love is finally possible now that choice and consequences have been obliterated. Peter's fears of being drained by love have transformed him into a life draining monster himself. Eventually, like a snake eating its own tail, he consumes himself.

CAGE broke my heart a long time ago. No, I couldn't take a flight on CON AIR with this once astonishing actor, it just hurt too much. Here he is at his pre-sell out, still has a neck, prime; lanky and ridiculous, flailing about like a stringless marionette and shamelessly mugging for all to see. What a great, fearless, go-for-broke, let the chips fall where they may performance. NICK, all is forgiven and bravo. I know that weirdo is still inside you somewhere. I plan to now seek out THE BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL – NEW ORLEANS and to rewatch THE WICKER MAN solely for comedic purposes. I have held a grudge against you for decades and I am now calling a permanent truce. Rank me among your highest supporters…for now.

In contrast to CAGE's intoxicating showboating is MARIA CONCHITA ALONSO as his long suffering secretary Alva. ALONSO delivers such a quiet, restrained alternative to CAGE's manic drooling that the collision of the two approaches is spellbinding. Peter (who even has a photo of KAFKA on display in his office) sends poor Alva on a bureaucratic goose chase that's sometimes uncomfortable to witness but also hilarious. CAGE's excesses are such that I found myself almost hiding behind my hands in sympathetic embarrassment for both parties. It's as if he sends her on an equally fruitless journey as his own out of spite and when her goal is miraculously reached before his, it sparks his final self destructive nose dive.

Director ROBERT BIERMAN deserves accolades for opening every cage in the zoo and for letting the script and the city speak for itself. Downtown New York is really allowed to breathe and be itself on screen yet the visuals never overpower the performances (really how could they?) ELIZABETH ASHLEY as Pete's doctor should also be singled out for delivering some of the film's funniest, most sardonic lines without a wink. VAMPIRE's KISS is currently on HULU and you can watch it for free HERE. Clueless Unk circa 1988 may not recommend it, but I sure as hell do.

The Thing From Another World (1951)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I've always felt a bit of a stony disconnect with 1951's THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD. It's not because it's in black and white, me and black and white movies are prone to secret late night rendezvous all the time. Is it because I saw JOHN CARPENTER's remake first? That never stopped me from getting completely entranced with the original CAT PEOPLE or INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS. I've said before that I'm not the type to give up on a film just for not putting out on the first date. My love of JOHN CARPENTER's THE THING is enough for me to own the film it's based on and the other night I gave it another go with happy enough results. It ended up being a fine film to help me put old man winter to bed and watching it with the conscious eyes of a CARPENTER fan delivered some rewards previously missed.

I'm thinking my problem has always been that the film steers clear from the emotional and psychological aspect of horror. It's a stiff upper lip, often times jocular man's man flick whose tone seems closer to that of a war film or western. Most of the characters crack wise throughout the running time and the worst terrors seem readily cured by a hot cup of joe. There's never a real sense of chaos as all involved (save for a wigged out watchman whose bullets have zero effect on the creature) approach the problem at hand with steady, rational aplomb. Moments after the monster gets his arm ripped off by a dog we've learned just about everything we would want to know of the being thanks to some scientists and a couple microscopes. Maybe a little too much even, personally I'd advise a "Don't ask don't tell policy" if my film's main threat was conceived as an "intellectual carrot."

As much as I'd like to shake the whole phlegmatic affair up like a snow globe, I have to admit that some of the stark desolate photography is winning and that there's a few good workable jump scares. I know that's faint praise for a renowned classic but I've always found the unflappable a bit dull. It's certainly entertaining; I just feel I should want to squeeze its cheeks a bit more than I do.

Although the listed director is CHRISTIAN NYBY it's widely known that CARPENTER's hero HOWARD HAWKS cracked the whip on this dog sled. Just as AUNT JOHN has taught me to appreciate, if not love, some films I've neglected, knowing that CARPENTER holds this film in such high regard makes it that much more interesting to me. There's a mismatched group facing an unknown foe just like in ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13 (and THE FOG), There's a dark shadowy giant with a habit of crashing through hallways just like "the shape" in HALLOWEEN and the final sky gazing moment that warns of future possible terror was lifted directly for THE FOG's elegant epilogue. I also think I understand why NANCY LOOMIS was cast in so many of CARPENTER's films, her girl Friday quip-banter is a chip off of TTFAW's MARGARET SHERIDAN's block. In fact, I'd say in some ways this film resembles those early CARPENTER flicks a bit more than it does his official remake.

Oh boy, you know, I started this post thinking I'd keep talk of CARPENTER's remake to a minimum but that's kind of impossible. I admit it, the whole time I was with the 1951 version I was thinking of it's younger sibling (you can take the Unk out of the eighties but you can't take the eighties out of the Unk.) Who am I kidding? I guess the ultimate truth for me is that nothing can really stand up to CARPENTER's take on JOHN W. CAMPBELL JR.'s WHO GOES THERE? Those other remakes I mentioned, CAT PEOPLE and INVASION, add modern nuances to the films they spawned from (to debatable effect, personally I enjoy them all) where CARPENTER's version just blows the previous take absolutely out of the water and renders it nearly obsolete.

Ugh, I said it. I know not everyone will agree with that but I doubt I'm alone. CARPENTER added the paranoia, the distrust, the believable human aspect that's needed as an appropriate flip side to the alien menace. The original takes on a rather surface issue of invasion and can be seen as a "red scare" parable of us vs. them. CARPENTER tackles something a bit deeper, the very real fear (and this should scare you) that we ARE (or are becoming) "them." The threat may still come from outer space but the territory it marks as a landing pad is the human body, it conquers from within. Ultimately traditional heroics have little effect in the remake as we are left wondering if even our star player MacReady (KURT RUSSELL) is corrupted. The ultimate fear is a global dehumanization, a very profound and real social worry that continues. I ask you, in 2010, is man still "the warmest place to hide" or is the alien menace likely to get more mileage hijacking a laptop?

The ‘82 version may have gotten gaff for relying too heavily on special effects but artist ROB BOTTIN did a bit more than throw blood and prosthetics about. He made it seem that anything was possible and that anything could happen at any moment. His conjurer's hand added yet another significant layer of unease and distrust to the happenings. Suddenly, all bets were off and the audience had that rare experience of not having a clue as to what to expect. Cautious critics can cry "leaves nothing to the imagination!" as much as they like, we now know the reverse was true. BOTTIN's beautiful work in fact, lit the fuse of imagination. He had many of us pondering what shape "the thing" might take next and the possibilities were simply endless. Let's hear it for coloring outside the lines.

Can I just say I hate the cliché of "leaves nothing to the imagination" because it assumes to know the perimeters of my mind? I get the slavish love for subtlety, I think it's great to allow the audience to fill in the blanks when it's done well, but the gall of suggesting that audiences can't expand upon what they have seen just seems like lazy rhetoric to me. It's sad that so many critics in 1982 could mistake legitimate, inspirational artistry for sensationalist gore. Mr. BOTTIN, Mr. CARPENTER, you left a hell of a lot to my imagination, thank you very much. You still do.

Honestly, do you know what's a way bigger imagination killer than visceral, in your face special effects? I'd say it's having your monster be a carrot. Heads with spider legs are not the enemy my friends, walking vegetables are!

Oh no, I've jumped the rails again (and perhaps I'm preaching to the choir), please enjoy my mania while it lasts. I don't mean to disrespect a film that made so many of my favorites possible. The earlier version (maybe it's not even fair to compare the two) really does have a snug, affable atmosphere even if its thrills feel limp. I guess THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD is never going to satisfy this viewer completely. It's not that it's dated and as dispassionate as a distant patriarch, it's because I have no real need to dance with someone so frigid when I know I can just as easily, for the same quarter, have my mind blown.

The Voluptuous Horror of Alien

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I once facetiously said that horror heroine Ellen Ripley officially belonged to the world of sci-fi because she broke bread with robots and drove a spaceship to work. The truth is, no amount of blinking computer lights or sparkling stars can keep ALIEN from being one of the purest examples of a horror film in existence. ALIEN may wear a sci-fi jumpsuit but when you look into its eyes, horror is all you see. I started this project hoping to show the similarities between RIDLEY SCOTT's stone cold masterpiece and that of the classic horror films that came before it, but as you'll see I fell off the rails a great deal and included films released after ALIEN as well. The reason for that, I'm sure, is because that is where the greater share of my familiarity (and DVD collection) lies. (I also ended up including some other examples of the sci-fi horror hybrid; both genres have always been thick as thieves anyway-why split hairs?)

Although I may have lost my initial point in the process, I think I discovered a bigger truth, that the mechanisms shown are eternal. As I see it, the notorious scene of the alien baby bursting from JOHN HURT's chest may have signaled an exciting new path ahead for both genres but at the same time it exposed something as ancient and primal as birth itself. ALIEN, Lt. Ripley, have I told you lately how perfect you are?

Spellbinder (1988)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I've been making a great effort to wean myself from using the word "awesome" but the 1988 supernatural thriller SPELLBINDER sure doesn't make it easy. I first caught this one back in the day and although I remembered being impressed by its scorpion sting ending, I didn't recall much else about it. The other night I stumbled across it again in HD on our local cable provider's ON DEMAND feature and wow, what a difference a couple decades (and a non-crappy presentation) makes. Don't get too far ahead of me here, SPELLBINDER is still a B-movie, I'm not saying it's a lost classic or anything (or am I?), it just happens to accomplish everything it promises to and more. It just happens to be awesome…damn.

I can't help it! Fans of eighties late night cable will feel me. With the multiple of choices at our disposal these days it's difficult to recall just how special an entertaining, vaguely naughty trip to the dark side like this once was. SPELLBINDER may have gotten lost in the pack when originally released but as it stands today, I'd say it's a diamond in the rough that deserves much more recognition. If nothing else, SPELLBINDER is the type of flick that's built to stop A.D.D. channel surfers right in their tracks. Everything about it may suggest mediocrity but once immersed within the story, you're not going anywhere. In fact, like the devil himself, its greatest strength may be in its ability to masquerade as ordinary. The all around no frills, zero gloss approach creates an arena that allows its few moments of artsy surrealism to be that much more jarring.

The caliber of acting is a might better than what you might expect too, even those with little to do at least have a certain amount of presence. TIM DALY (STORM OF THE CENTURY) is perfectly cast as naive everyman Jeff Mills who makes the understandable lame brain mistake of trying to help someone in crisis. Leaving the gym with buddy Derek (break me off a piece of that RICK ROSSOVICH), Jeff witnesses sexy Miranda (erstwhile charmer KELLY PRESTON) getting a plate full of knuckle sandwiches from her greasy, long-haired goon of a boyfriend Aldys (maybe she locked his saxophone in the car?) This meet non-cute is followed by Jeff's inadvisable invitation for Miranda to move right in after she displays some magical orgasmic healing power. Well, greasy Aldys turns out to be just one of many who want Miranda to return to the fold as it later becomes clear that she is AWOL from a Satanic cult.

I know it doesn't sound like much but the miraculous SPELLBINDER is somehow able to incorporate karate chicks, a kooky survivalist, heads catching on fire and the fine art of removing a roasted turkey from the oven without oven mitts into the mix as well. This movie is strange but in a subtle enough way as to genuinely infiltrate your senses. Soon even the most innocuous background performers begin to give off a menacing vibe and Jeff can hardly pass a dog walker on the street without you imagining them as a potential threat. So what you have here is an erotic, "Should have thought twice about hitting that!" thriller mashed up with a paranoid, "They're all in it!" Satanic panic movie, all spruced up with a dash of the kind of supernatural reality bending horror that was so popular at the time that this was made (thanks to Monsieur Krueger.) I don't know about you but that just about covers all of my needs.

The sad news is that SPELLBINDER has never found a home on DVD (It's on the Youtubes all the time and like I said, currently on ON DEMAND.) From the unsubstantiated gossip I've scrolled through, the rumor is that PRESTON and hubby JOHN TRAVOLTA have purchased the U.S. distribution rights and would prefer that this movie never be seen. (Yes, the folks that brought you BATTLEFIELD EARTH are embarrassed by this film.) I'm not sure if it's PRESTON's minimal boobage display or the possibility that the couple would rather distance themselves from films about life destroying cults, either way I don't care. What gets (or should I say sacrifices) my goat is that PRESTON is not the only person in this movie. If she wants to bury a movie may I suggest any or every other one she's ever made with the possible exception of SPACE CAMP? Please don't send secret assassins to murder me PRESTON, but you must realize that you are keeping the world from the best AUDRA LINDLEY performance ever. How do you sleep at night? You're an adult, you must know the difference between right (allowing me my AUDRA) and wrong (listening to the guy who made MOMENT BY MOMENT.)

You heard right kiddies; MRS. ROPER fucking brings it in SPELLBINDER! MRS. ROPER is worth the tracking down of this baby alone. I'm telling you, she's phenomenal and should have been nominated for an Oscar. She barely needs to talk; everything just registers on her mug like advertising on a blimp. The woman is a genius and does more with two scenes than some actresses (cough) have done in their entire careers. (It's not rag on KELLY day, I'm just stating the facts as I see them.) Anyway, if I should disappear in the next couple days you all know why. It's O.K., I guess I'm ready to go down for my cause…FREE AUDRA NOW!…FREE AUDRA NOW!

100 Feet

Posted on By aunt john

The onslaught of nor'easters that have bore down repeatedly on Kindertrauma Castle these past weeks have afforded your Aunt John some serious sofa time with the streaming Netflix. While I would like to expound upon the nuanced performances of KATE & ALLIE SEASON 4 at great length, I think this forum is better suited for a discussion of the other abusive relationship tale I also sat through… 100 FEET.

In short, FAMKE JANSEN plays Marnie, a freshly paroled murderess placed on house arrest for killing her abusive, police officer husband and BOBBY CANNAVALE plays Shakes, the hard-nosed cop/ former partner to the murdered husband keeping an obsessively watchful eye on Marnie's every confined move. Since Marnie is on house arrest, (title alert) she can't physically be more than one hundred feet from the monitoring device installed in her home and if she is, an alarm is tripped that summons Shakes. Whereas your Aunt John would be tripping the alarm every five minutes ("Oh hi there BOBBY CANNAVALE, did I set off that alarm again?"), Marnie and Shakes don't exactly mix since she killed his partner. Cops sure are sensitive to stuff like that. To make matters worse, Marnie's house is haunted by her abusive husband (the tragically over CGI-ed MICHAEL "EDDIE & THE CRUISERS" PARE) who continues to deliver beat downs from beyond.

Despite a wavering accent (is she supposed to be an outer borough New Yorker or only when she's upset?) JANSEN delivers a solid performance as a woman trapped in rather hellish existence. She has become the scorn of her friends, family, and neighbors and just when you think she has found some slight solace in the arms of the grocery delivery boy (a surprisingly not annoying ED WESTWICK of GOSSIP GIRL) along comes that pesky PARE poltergeist. And herein lies the biggest drawback to the flick; if you are going to cast Kindertrauma favorite MICHAEL PARE, at least give us a good look at his mug other than in the awkwardly staged old photos Marnie takes off her walls. I know he is supposed to be a ghost and all, but PARE's obscured performance ends up being reduced to a series of repeated fade-in/sucker punch/fade-outs drowned in river of overly computerized blood.

Written and directed ERIC RED (BAD MOON), 100 FEET plays out like a Lifetime woman in peril yarn doused in supernatural syrup and dunked in a bucket a testosterone, and I'm not talking about CANNAVALE's or PARE's hormones; I'm talking about studly JANSEN's. Something tells me that if you were truly on FAMKE's shit list, you wouldn't get the chance to come back from the dead, she'd get it right the first time.

The Treasure of the Four Crowns

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Hold on now here, howza come, as long as I've lived I've never stumbled across THE TREASURE OF THE FOUR CROWNS? More importantly why has nobody ever mentioned it to me? Is it because it's a terrible film? Have we met dear readers? What do I care from terrible, it's just boring stuff I can't stand. THE TREASURE OF THE FOUR CROWNS is never boring, well, maybe a little but it's mostly not boring and it's got the greatest ending ever…scratch that TWO of the greatest endings ever. Here's one of them…(Careful, this isn't so much a "spoiler" as the climax of the film…)

Did you see that guy's head spin?!? Did you hear that ENNIO MORRICONE score?!? You don't know how much I'd enjoy flamethrowers for arms! If God truly loved me he'd give me at least one flamethrower arm!

I must have seen the video box for this at some point, why did I pass it up? I guess it must have just looked like just another lame Indiana Jones rip-off to me; which it is, but honestly, pound for pound I think I enjoyed it better than the last two Indy flicks. It's fun, it's crazy, stupid, dumb fun and it makes zero sense and did I mention it was in 3-D? Well, originally it was. By the way, are there any lucky people out there who got to see this in the theater way back in ‘83? I want to shake your hand. (provided flames aren't pouring out of it.)

Maybe the reason this one flew past my radar Riley was because it was hatched by the same mind as COMIN' AT YA! (Spaghetti western star TONY ANTHONY). That film, which is regarded as the kickoff to the eighties 3-D revival, I did see in the theater as a kid and I have to say I was not too crazy about it. (Was I supposed to be stunned by 3-D beans being poured on my head?) I guess it's possible that I may have avoided this one for that association alone, but CROWNS is soooo much better than COMIN' AT YA!

The opening of the movie is pretty spectacular too, check this out (and get ready to duck!)…

Stop lying and admit that you want to own that Jacket. I don't blame you, I love it too. You can't imagine how bad the dubbing is in this, I adore bad dubbing.

A friend of mine (it could happen) has a large collection of 3-D movies and I recently got to see T.T.O.T.F.C. with the red/blue anaglyph glasses. That was cool, and I'm glad I did, but considering that this was originally presented with the same 3-D technology as FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH PART 3, I'm thinking it must have been really damn incredible to view in the theater. Man, if only there was some way to properly recreate such things at home…

Let me ruin everything for you by revealing that TREASURE has an epilogue that is completely insane that involves a monster coming out of a swamp for no reason whatsoever. Do you have red/blue 3-D glasses too? Go grab them, I'll wait,… check this out… if I had my way every film for the rest of time would end this exact same way….

How awesome is that? Did you fall out of your chair? People can yack as much as they want about technology stifling artistry. As far as I'm concerned they can yack ‘till the cows come home as long as the cows come home in 3-D!

I'm so happy 3-D is making a comeback because I personally never voted for it to scram. Sure every once in a while you get burned by a METALSTORM: THE DESTRUCTION OF JARED-SYN but it it's worth it for every SPACEHUNTER: ADVENTURES IN THE FORBIDDEN ZONE. As long as we're on the subject, how's about that floating severed arm in JAWS 3-D? Oh, if only life were in 3-D….oh, wait…it is.

The Sender

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I've seen the THE SENDER so many times that its multiple gaffs stick out like Sissy Hankshaw's thumbs, yet I'm compelled to return to it again and again. I blame its exceptional cast and unique (especially for 1982) tone. How do I describe this strange, somber, anomaly? The best I could ever do was A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3: THE DREAM WARRIORS (or better yet, 1988's BAD DREAMS) as directed by IGMAR BERGMAN. I should point out though that THE SENDER played with the smudging of lines between dreams and reality before our fedora wearing pal Freddy ever did and that our director here is ROGER CHRISTIAN, who will later curse the world (or bless the world if you're a bad movie fan) with the very less than BERGMAN-esque BATTLEFIELD EARTH.

KATHRYN HARROLD (who you might remember from NIGHTWING and the RICHARD LYNCH starring television movie VAMPIRE) stars as Dr. Gail Farmer, a woman who finds herself captivated by a recent admittance to the psychiatric hospital where she works. The patient known simply as John Doe #83 (ZELIJKO IVANEK) is an amnesiac who recently attempted a dramatic public suicide and just so happens to have the pesky habit of projecting his nightmares into people's heads. I'm not talking about "It's the day of the big math test and I forgot to wear pants!" kind of nightmares, I'm talking about the "Whaddya know, the refrigerator is swarming with cockroaches and a rat just crawled out of my mouth!" variety.

The doctor/patient relationship in the center of the film is absorbing enough to steer your attention away from many of the film's imperfections. IVANEK is a convincing outcast with a believable supernatural aura (decades later he will be tapped to play a high ranking Vampire in HBO's TRUE BLOOD) and HARROLD has an earthy, nurturing demeanor that makes me assume flowers bloom whenever she's in the vicinity. As John Doe's past begins to materialize so does his creepy, about as much fun as a barrel of dead monkeys, Bible quoting smother-mother ( a memorably melancholy SHIRLEY NIGHT). Dr. Gail has to basically re-parent the young man to defuse his demons as his telepathic "sending" is apparently all tied up in apron strings. Don't feel left out, emotionless carved in stone fathers, you're represented by shock therapy enthusiast Dr. Denman (PAUL FREEMAN a.k.a. RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK's bad boy Belloq) In other words, this is horror made for TEARS FOR FEARS fans.

Though not entirely seamless, this is some legit, classy, acne-free cinema. You know I love my garish neon eighties horror movies but THE SENDER, with its muted, mostly beige color palette and candle lit climax, has a timeless quality that I find comforting. I poked a bit of fun at director ROGER CHRISTIAN's TRAVOLT-ing Sci-Fi train wreck but let's not forget the guy was also the art director for the endlessly influential ALIEN too. THE SENDER's cinematographer ROGER PRATT went on to BRAZIL and 12 MONKEYS and the standout score is from the guy who did ANGEL HEART and LABYRINTH (TREVOR JONES).

THE SENDER's noble, non-pandering stance insured that exactly one cricket bought a ticket to see it in the theaters. Over the years it has gathered a cult of followers but this ambiguous oddity I suppose, for some people, will always fall into the neither fish nor foul pile. (You know the drill, gorehounds hate chin music and eggheads tsk-tsk decapitations…what's a stylish thriller with both to do?) As you can tell, I have plenty of room in my heart for a problem like THE SENDER, its body count may end up being a blasphemous zero but it contains the only car chase scene I've ever found even remotely entertaining. In fact, I'd say it's downright hypnotic.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Horror fans often times disagree about what they find frightening. I'd like to ask though, is there anyone out there who is not mortified by TOBE HOOPER's THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE? I mean, I know I'm old school so you have to fill me in kids, is it possible to watch that movie and not be freaked? To me it's pretty much the cinematic definition of the word horror. I can understand someone not enjoying it, it can be a shrieky headache, and I can understand someone not finding it absolutely convincing or perhaps a tad too comical, but it is unquestionably horrifying, no? Come on, a lady is shoved on to a meat hook for Christ's sake.

Cannibals, chainsaws, rotting corpses, a lampshade made out of human skin… what's not to be disturbed by? Still, even with all of those obvious sources of terror flopping around there is something within the film that fills me with an even more intense feeling of dread. I can handle the physical pain and humiliation on display. It's the uncanny elements that unbalance me; the ominous horoscopes, the solar flares, the feeling that the universe is collapsing in on our travelers. Again, I am old school. What's it like to see this movie when your childhood did not take place in the seventies? Are such people free from the full intensity of CHAINSAW's morbid grip?

The thing that scares the hell out of me in T.C.M. is not the ogre known as Leatherface but the fact that it is a journey backwards to a place that is now dead. Sally Hardesty (MARILYN BURNS) and her wheelchair bound brother Franklin (PAUL A. PARTAIN) are essentially guiding their friends on a tour of their lost, corroded youth. Before they are ever aware of the vicious madness of Leatherface and company, they explore the once livable now dilapidated home of their grandparents. Sally laughs off the fact that she once slept in the crumbling shell but from where the pouty Franklin sits, his chair unable to course the terrain, her squeals of delight sound like (and foreshadow) squeals of anguish. It's almost as if they have stumbled into some kind of Langolier-chewed history that's disintegrating beneath them. They truly can't go home again…there are spiders living there now.

Which brings me to the moment that inexplicably sticks out for me in the film. Sally and Franklin's pal Kirk (WILLIAM VAIL) wanders ahead of the group and enters a room. In an upper corner near the ceiling, he finds a nest of seething and scattering daddy long leg spiders. Trust me here, I'm not one to be squeamish about spiders (they're adorable), but there's something about this bit that gets under my skin. It's almost like an animated scribble, a growing negative space or a thousand cracks forming and the scratching, clattery sound applied over top of the visual is so other worldly sinister and so wildly exaggerated that it chills me to the bone. I'm sure that in the real world a psycho with a chainsaw is more upsetting than a nest of spiders, but in the real world a nest of spiders is polite enough not to act like a LOVECRAFTian tear in the universe.

Maybe I see too much in that mass of spiders or maybe it's the potential absence of anything being there at all that riles me. Do they simply remind me of the daddy long legs I used to encounter on my back porch when I was little (and by encounter I mean rip the legs off of)? Leatherface is ultimately human and no matter what his efforts he'll end up eventually just like his grandfather, barely able to lift a hammer. I guess to me those spiders say that time itself is the bigger monster carving through Texas and that it's a monster that no one can outrun.

Hospital Massacre

Posted on By unkle lancifer

There's one last Valentine chocolate in the box and it's called HOSPITAL MASSACRE, known in some parts as X-RAY; it's working title was the sublime BE MY VALENTINE…OR ElSE! Directed by BOAZ DAVIDSON (by the way, I'm still broken hearted by the conclusion to BOAZ's THE LAST AMERICAN VIRGIN…how could you, DIANE FRANKLIN !?!), this early eighties shocker has somehow avoided DVD capture though its giant silver MGM VHS box can be spotted hiding out in the back alleys of Amazon.

Kids, we're talking a 1982 slasher that takes place in a hospital, is centered around a second rate holiday and kicks off with a prologue revealing a unsettled grudge from the past! Sounds like it can't fail right? Sure it can! HOSPITAL MASSACRE puts the "ail" in fail but it's just so screwy and peculiar that I can almost forgive it for cutting into my valuable PS3 time. Let's take a look at the symptoms, shall we?

BARBI BENTON

As if sashaying her way through HEE-HAW and FANTASY ISLAND wasn't enough to enrapture me, BARBI BENTON (born Barbara Klien) also starred in the uber-incredible DEATHSTALKER. Plus, the gal's got….er….PIPES!

TWO OF THE THREE BLOODY BIRTHDAY KIDS!

In H.M.'s opening we learn that when BARBI's character Suzy was a child, a spurned admirer killed her brother on Valentine's Day. I thought it fortuitous enough to find BLOODY BIRTHDAY's super creepy SUSAN HOY playing young Suzy when suddenly up pops the ever-brilliant BILLY JACOBY as the crazed, can't take a hint psycho. Horror-synchronicity at its finest!

MY BLOODY VALENTINE NOD

Early in the film an elevator ride is cut short when the doors slide open to show three men in HARRY WARDEN gas masks, a nice playful jab at that other earlier released Valentine horror film!

LET ME OUT!

Poor Suzy just stopped by the hospital to pick up some routine test results but because her stalker switched her X-rays, the doctors, along with their seven foot tall nurses, won't let her leave! H.M. may think it's a slasher but it's really a SNAKE PIT movie at heart. Which is good because SNAKE PIT movies are as campy as they want to be and that's why I love them. (Slap me five 1985's HELLHOLE with JUDY LANDERS and RAY SHARKEY and 1990's COMMITTED with JENNIFER O'NEIL and RON PALILLO!!!)

THE FREAKS SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH!

So what if the surgeon killer is more goofy than scary, the chanting occult soundtrack is wildly inappropriate and the pacing, on occasion gets slower than an IV drip. HOSPITAL MASSACRE has a kooky KAFKA on Quaaludes vibe that should carry lovers of cult film straight on through to the other side. I was a doubter myself until BARBI stumbled into a room with three patients bandaged head to toe that just start convulsing like break dancing marionettes. Like most of the film, it's surreal, funny and not meant to be taken too seriously. Plus, in HOSPITAL MASSACRE you get a decapitated head in a hat box, that's a pretty good Valentine gift, right?