Category: Trauma Au Courant

Hey, I almost forgot to tell y'all about my FINAL-D film-going adventure! Now that I've had some time to mop the psychedelic residue of R.Z.'s H2 from my brain, I remember that I saw THE FINAL DESTINATION on the same day! Now where R.Z.'s movie was so batty delirious that even if you hated it you could not get it out of your mind, the fourth installment of F-D is so by the book procedural that even if you loved it, it's hard to retain anything of what you saw.

Of course it's all types of fun watching bystanders either crushed under heavy objects or blown to smithereens (I know that sounds harsh, but when you're in a theater that features about a dozen audience members talking into their cell phones you can really start to develop a "Let God sort them out!" mentality) the problem is that going through the motions of watching yet another group of people slowly figure out the rules of the franchise might have you wishing that a buzz saw would land on your own head.

I like that they moved slightly away from the teeny bopper vibe of PART 3 and tried to bring a more assorted variety of people into the fray ala PART 2, but still most of the so-called characters are indistinguishable from each other. Please Hollywood people, I'm not suggesting you hire good writers or anything, but at least cast girls with different hair color so I know who is dying (Another free tip: Throw a pair of glasses or a baseball cap on one!) Speaking of hair color, I like how we've moved past the kill the black guy first thing (so much so that you just KNOW that the black guy is not going to die first), so let's say we drop the whole ginger guy is a bullying asshole routine too huh? (Oh, and don't bring back ginger guy is the comic relief nerd either ‘cuz I didn't like that either!)

The saddest news is that the 3-D is not up to MY BLOODY VALENTINE standards. I don't know if it was a technical issue or if the movie was just so dishrag dark that it didn't stick, but I was only impressed about a quarter of the time. Truth be known, I have to admit to laughing like Bart Simpson viewing an episode of ITCHY & SCRATCHY on several occasions, so that's a good thing. (The opening credits that showed all the kills from the previous installments in x-ray were a nice touch too.)

I think the word "serviceable" was invented for movies like this; it's really just time filler for when you are tired of mowing down pedestrians in GRAND THEFT AUTO. Remember how spooky the first installment tried to be with that dark shadow force roaming around and the tree branches that turn into skeleton hands (or was that the second?) that cool stuff is nowhere to be found here. Truth is, anyone who holds the climax of his movie in a suburban mall and then ignores the opportunity to demolish the HOT TOPIC store, just isn't trying hard enough.

There's no way to put this delicately so I'm just going to come right out and say it. I really enjoyed ROB ZOMBIE's HALLOWEEN 2. If you kids want to stop visiting your Unk here at Kindertrauma, I'll understand. Maybe I'll just set myself adrift on a block of ice like an unwanted, elderly Eskimo. If it helps, I can assure you that your Aunt John would really hate H2 if he ever saw it, so at least you know there is one person you can still count on roaming these halls.

First off, let me make it clear that I have no automatic allegiance to ROB ZOMBIE due to my being a roustabout delinquent who yearns to do that devil sign thingy in your face and play air guitar after tee-peeing your house. I think he has a fetching beard and all, but I'm not committed to him in any way as a symbolic anti authority figure or anything. ( I'm listening to OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN's "Have You Never Been Mellow?" as I write this, if you require further proof). It just so happens that I always seem to end up enjoying his movies…even H2!

Now, let's just take HOUSE OF 1,OOO CORPSES and DEVIL's REJECTS off the defending table, last I checked it was sort of O.K. to like those in some territories. The real rub starts with his remake of HALLOWEEN. To be honest my love for the HALLOWEEN series is pretty fanatical, so much so that I even enjoy blatant rip-offs of the film. When R.Z.'s first HALLOWEEN came out it didn't so much bring to mind JOHN CARPENTER's classic movie to me as it did that movie's sleazy imitators, films like ROMANO SCAVOLINI's NIGHTMARE IN A DAMAGED BRAIN and JOE D'AMATO's ABSURD. Those are not particularly well-crafted films, they take the HALLOWEEN premise and run off with it like a stray mutt stealing a hot dog, but I loved never knowing how far into the realm of unpleasantness they might go and I admired their wild tactless enthusiasm.

So too with ROB's film, nobody could ever really touch upon CARPENTER's deft directing hand or the lightening in a bottle fatalistic vibe of the first film anyway. Even ZOMBIE' naysayers may admit that if nothing else he brought in a willingness to explore uncharted territory to a franchise that was becoming sadly domesticated. Yep, he made some weird decisions ("Love Hurts"), but I'd rather that than uniform predictability and more running in circles chasing runes or…uh, I swore I wouldn't mention his name but it rhymes with Rhymes.

ROB's sequel works in much the same way as the first film but suddenly he has the audacity to wedge surreal arthouse imagery into the mix. Sometimes it's maddeningly effective (an alarming pumpkin headed demon tea party of some sort) and sometimes it steers close to drunk relative embarrassing (the first vision of SHERI with the white horse is a "hide his car keys" moment for sure).

Speaking of that horsey! What a troublesome mare, not only was it allegedly stolen from DAVID LYNCH's barn but it comes complete with a title card explaining its meaning for all you dum-dums out there (hey wow, it even appears in a Rorschach image in shrink MARGOT KIDDER's office). I know, I know, It's like ROB graduated from the VINCENT GALLO school of audience appreciation and wants to cram his diploma up your nose, but still, what's going on here is all so very nutzo crazy outlandish I can't peel my eyes off of the screen. In fact, I cannot believe this movie is playing in malls across America or that it is a sequel to a major franchise. If you take Mike Myers out of the equation it, at times feels, like you have stepped into some run down theater circa 1981 and are just watching the most rabid, taste defying trash-fest ever made…and yeah, I'm saying that's a good thing!

Visually H2 is craptasticly glorious, cinematographer BRANDON TROST (who scuzzed it hard for CRANK 2 as well) makes everything either resemble a cigarette damaged Polaroid or a third generation BAVA bootleg. ZOMBIE gets a lot of grief for his so-called trash aesthetic but I'll take his, clutter happy, neon SANFORD & SON approach over the unrecognizable sterile world seen in other slasher remakes like PROM NIGHT and WHEN A STRANGER CALLS any day of the week. I'm not talking phony out of date SE7EN inspired faux-weathering like you'll find in the SAW films either, ZOMBIE's greasy hodgepodge feels authentically piss stained and may actually give you fleas. It's not all gutter stompin' by a long shot though, some of the images (like the skeleton with Myers mask crucifixion bit) are just stunning.

Now, the grainy, damaged look of the film will come as no surprise to anyone, but the thing that keeps me fascinated about ZOMBIE's world is that his characters actually get beaten and damaged too and fittingly it isn't pretty or inspiring or even fun to behold. Nobody digs down to find a magical powerful self to save the day here. Laurie Strode is a shrill basket case, Sam Loomis is a narcissistic opportunist, victim Linda's dad has gone postal and the Brackets, Annie and Sheriff Lee, are just barely holding it together. (Hopefully the intriguing dialogue from the trailer that has Annie confronting Laurie about not being the only one whose "life was trashed" will appear on one of the inevitable Director's cuts…actually any additional scenes involving HARRIS or DOURIF would be greatly appreciated).

As we know, dear Michael is the most damaged of them all and I get the argument that some of his mystique is lost now that we have what? A full half hour of background information on his childhood, (jeez, it's not like we know his PIN number or anything). Plus really, this is Mike's 10th outing, just how much of a blushing virgin do you want him to be?

Of course, dramatically speaking, we're not talking UNCLE VANYA here, but I really applaud the fact that these people are negatively affected by their experiences and are physically and mentally scarred. I'd rather that than the typical unrealistic horror movie survivor's reaction of arms defiantly akimbo or stoic martyrdom. In other words, regardless of ROB's reliance on f-bombs, in this depressive beat down atmosphere you never have to worry that the film will end with Laurie yelling, "Trick or treat mother fucker!" while landing a fatal blow to her bro (that's very important to me!). There's no way of disguising the fact that ZOMBIE feels compelled to trample on some icons here (especially Loomis), but as far as I'm concerned this is a mucky alternative dimension where anything goes.

I'll admit that ROB is not exactly HITCHCOCK when it comes to setting up a suspense scene, he's more likely to just bludgeon you with imagery and hope something sticks. I'm O.K. with that not being his strong suit because I do think he has something else to offer. This guy does not paint by the numbers, in fact, he paints in broad drippy obnoxious strokes and I frankly adore how raw and intuitive it all feels. He's like the guy in art class who acts like he doesn't give a rat's ass, makes the biggest mess, finishes before everybody else and then ends up with the only work that has any type of energy in the room. He's not afraid of making HUGE mistakes, and I think in the end that is worthwhile and keeps my interest more than any slick streamlined product ever could. Nobody has any business at all expecting a movie like this to be widely popular considering just how off the wall and surly it ends up being, I however, while fully admitting that it has problems with momentum, especially near the end, find it to be rather refreshing, particularly in its ambivalent attitude toward fan boy expectations.

As a youngin' there were some horror movies that I found easy to love J.C's HALLOWEEN was one, HELL NIGHT, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME are other examples. These were movies that were scary in their own way but in the end offered rather romantic visions of terror and the plight of the victims involved. On the other hand there were these other movies like MANIAC, PIECES (hilarious now, not so much back then), and the aforementioned NIGHTMARE IN A DAMAGED BRAIN that pushed me beyond my safety zone and seemed horribly chaotic and made no promises to me about sticking to a tasteful, or even comprehensible path. ZOMBIE's movies always remind me of artier versions of those latter movies mentioned and H2 is no exception. As much as I respect being in the hands of a technical master who can wrap everything up in a tight bow at the end, as a horror fan, I sometimes require the thrill of taking a walk with somebody who may just do something nutty and random, somebody who just might push me off a cliff for the hell of it and offer no explanation later.

To me HALLOWEEN 2 represents a schlocky anarchistic side to the genre that is nearly dead. (From the look at the critical response nobody's planning a big funeral either.) Then again none of the other movies I've mentioned (including the original HALLOWEEN by the way) were spared the critical sword upon arrival either. If you consider yourself a fan of cult cinema though you might do well to realize that H2 is what it looks like when it's recently hatched. Here you have it without that helpful twenty-year long chasm between you to make it more digestible and fuzzy cute. It's not pretty is it?

Ultimately, this movie does not need any recommendation from me; it's bonkers enough to rally its own crowd for years to come. I will say this though, in my opinion ZOMBIE's HALLOWEEN 2 is a throwback to the good old days when horror movies still aspired to be reasonably horrible and had little interest in tap dancing for the approval of the mainstream. True, it has some serious fumble moments; it's messy, ugly and feels a bit like a spit in the face as well, but it's willingness to tread off the beaten path (I'm not kiddin' remember that pumpkin head tea party I mentioned?) and its feral unapologetic energy left me feeling invigorated and even hungry for more. I say bring on that crazy loco Director's cut!

O.K., you can delete me from your Myspace page now, I can take it…love hurts.

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.

Hey now, did I not just recently make a statement about the sad fact that if one wants to see a decent horror movie they are better off staying home and renting rather than going to the theater? Luckily for all of us, the known universe was at least partially created to prove me wrong at regular intervals and consequently there is now a horror movie playing in theaters nationwide that is actually good. Ah-hah! I got you universe! I got you with my fancy reverse psychology! I just went to see DRAG ME TO HELL and I didn't even want my money back by the end! I liked it and from what I could tell, so did the other people in the audience. Yep, they even clapped just like you are supposed to do after you have been successfully entertained.

It's pretty neat to witness a simple story enthusiastically told by a person who knows what they are doing. DRAG ME is a crisp, clean cut of horror, designed to run like a funhouse ride, full of squirms and screams with zero bitter after taste. It has no intention of shaking you to your core or changing your life, but it is bound and determined to remind you that every once in a while horror can be fun. Everybody knows that director SAM RAIMI (THE EVIL DEAD TRILOGY) knows how to work a camera in stunningly inventive ways, but his real gift on display in DRAG is his talent for well-timed, pitch black comedy. You won't find any gritty realism here, but RAIMI has an astonishing ability to keep things breezy while still allowing his characters' hands to get sufficiently dirty. Miraculously the film's conclusion is wonderfully cop-out free.

ALISON LOHMAN (WHITE OLEANDER) took over the film's lead when ELLEN PAGE (JUNO) flaked, which is all kinds of fine by me. The role requires LOHMAN to go from mild and self-effacing to wild and self-serving without being too self-aware or losing the audience's sympathy. It's a lot to ask, but LOHMAN pulls it off and her delivery of the line "Here, kitty, kitty" is, mark my words, destined for horror infamy. In fact, I think you can expect DRAG ME TO HELL itself to become a future classic. Hopefully the DVD release will coincide with Halloween 2009, as this is the type of non-taxing, fun loving, yet still effective spook show that is tailor made for the holiday and can be enjoyed by many ages (DMTH is PG-13 but somehow doesn't reek of it.) I wouldn't wait for the DVD release though, SAM RAIMI has made it safe (and worthwhile) for horror fans to head back to the theater. Grab some like minded friends and expect some spirited conversation afterwards.

Am I last kid on the block to watch JACK BROOKS: MONSTER SLAYER? I had been reading about it for some time, finally bought a copy and then just sat on it for months (literally- it somehow found its way under the couch)! Well, just in case there are any other stragglers out there even more lost in the eighties than I tend to be, here is a spiffy post all about how I finally watched it and how I think if you have not yet, you should.

JACK BROOKS: MONSTER SLAYER is about a guy named Timmy O'Tool, no, just kidding, it's about a guy named Jack Brooks and yeah, by the end of the flick he does indeed turn out to be a monster slayer! The movie has been compared to THE EVIL DEAD films and PETER JACKSON'S DEAD ALIVE, but try not to think about that because that will just leave you needlessly disappointed when you should be enjoying yourself. Personally, I was reminded of the criminally overlooked straight to DVD gem SOULKEEPER from 2001. (SOULKEEPER has the worst cover art in the history of the DVD, but it's a really entertaining supernatural romp with a DEBRA GIBSON cameo that should be seen by all! My hero in life BRAD DOURIF even shows up!) J.B. may also owe a tip of the trucker hat to an ass kicking gal named BUFFY which is just fine by obsessive Sunnydale dweller me.

When we first meet Jack he has some severe anger management issues which stem from a real life kindertrauma he endured. As a child Jack witnessed the slaughter of his family during a camping trip at the hands of a hideous creature. Therapy is useless and it is only when Jack owns up to his anger and channels it into the destruction of similar monsters that he finds his true calling. The first half of the film might lose some impatient viewers with its cartoon character development, but once Jack achieves self actualization it is wall-to-wall action garnished with joy inducing splatter and a highly appreciated zero CGI ratio. Somewhere in the future I am waiting in line to purchase its sequel and I'm very, very excited.

Here is where I give big props to horror legend ROBERT ENGLUND. Seeing his name on the DVD cover I wrongfully guessed that ENGLUND was going to show up, be ROBERT ENGLUND, grab a paycheck and then split. He's actually amazing in this movie and showcases some serious chops in the physical comedy department. Who knew? I've always been impressed with ENGLUND's ability to emote so much personality from behind a wall of makeup, but now I'm picturing an alternative universe where he might have been the second coming of JERRY LEWIS. Way to show me what an assuming closed minded twerp I am Mr. ENGLUND, I like it when actors do that!

TREVOR MATTHEWS does a fine job in the title role and is a breeze to hang out with for the course of the film. He's no BRUCE CAMPBELL but neither are you. Kudos also go to RACHEL SKARSTEN, if for nothing else than forcing me to contemplate the concept of latent heterosexuality. I'm going to throw this baby onto the ever growing pile of movies in my head that support the fact that if you want to see a good horror movie these days you're better off cranking up the T.V. and staying home. Turns out there's plenty of great stuff going on this decade, just maybe not at your local theater.

Do you guys remember a little while back when we talked about the cool poster art for the forthcoming film MURDER LOVES KILLERS TOO?

Having not seen the movie yet, I stated that from the trailer the movie, "Looks like it knows where to go and how to get there." Well guess what, I got a chance to the see the movie and I'm happy to report that I'll never have to eat those particular words. When you hear horror fans bemoaning the present state of the genre, if you ever wonder what exactly it is that these people are on their hands and knees begging for, the answer is MURDER LOVES KILLERS TOO. I'm not exaggerating, much of the film is a love letter to all of your favorite flicks and the part that isn't is a bright shining arrow pointing towards the genre's future.

The story is simple, five pretty young things embark on a weekend and meet one not so pretty older thing and, as expected, a giant portion of said people are super dead by the time the end credits roll. Director DREW BARNHARDT basically takes the viewer on a tour of horror's most famous landmarks; it's a fun journey and he's a great guide, but just as you're getting ready to thank him for the wonderful time and return to your hotel to write postcards, he grabs you by the ear and drags you down an alley that's not on any map. This is where M.L.K.T. sets itself apart from the pack. It makes it perfectly clear that there is no place this film is unwilling to go. It's not afraid of gore, it's not afraid of black humor, and it's not afraid to be smart, subtle and artistic.

I usually try to give small independent films with a limited budget some leeway when watching them but now I'm left wondering why I do. M.L.K.T. proves that it doesn't cost anything extra to set up handsomely memorable shots, recruit likable, natural actors (lead screamer CHRISTINE HAEBERMAN particularly impresses) or orchestrate nail-biting, suspenseful scenes. I guess all you need is talent and a serious authentic love for what you're creating, two things on obvious display here. This movie can be enjoyed as a blood-soaked party film or a bizarre art house character study or anything in-between.

Mark my words though, this is not the last time you hear about MURDER LOVES KILLERS TOO. Not only does it know where to go and how to get there, but it's genuinely committed to giving horror fans what they've been pleading for, the ride of their lives.