kindertrauma

Category: Tykes in Trouble

Best Worst Movie

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I'm so not shocked that I enjoyed the heck out of BEST WORST MOVIE, the documentary about the fantastic fandom that grows like thick green moss around the movie TROLL 2. I mean really, the trailer alone left me ferklempt. I'm just a sucker for stories about trashed underdogs rising from the ashes plus, BEST WORST celebrates the type of enthusiasm for cinema that gets me all a giddy by proxy. TROLL 2 is certainly not the worst movie ever made but it could be the most lovably bizarre and it's comforting to know that such an awkward runt found a home with such a warm, blanketing crowd. Even if you're not a fan of the film you no doubt have your own facsimile, a movie that no matter how many people disparage you‘d still take a bullet for; some dumb dopey movie with big brown puppy dog eyes a' sparkling. (Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about CATHY'S CURSE)

Critics, naysayers, uptight haters and pretentious snobs are politely invited to bite it and bite it hard. The people have spoken and nobody wants to hear your bummer twaddle anymore. What is inspiring about BEST WORST MOVIE isn't the film TROLL 2 but what that film represents, the simple idea that love is in the eye of the beholder. I expected this movie to dish out the fuzzy feelings and it did, but it accomplishes that in the first half hour and then quite admirably it pushes further, it does a little more. Go, BEST WORST MOVIE, go!

Director (and star of the original train wreck) MICHAEL STEPHENSON has made a legitimate documentary here and not a vanity piece. He's smart enough to know to step aside and allow a bigger picture to unfold. TROLL 2 is a weirdo magnet and I mean that in the best possible way. There are so many satellite stories and interesting characters jumping about that I pity the fool who had to select scenes to drop on the cutting room floor.

DR. GEORGE HARDY who played the father in the original has got to be the most affable guy on Earth, a dream(?) hybrid of JIM J. BULLOCK and FLASH GORDON's SAM JONES. He's impossible not to like, even as he bristles at horror fans at a convention and admits that they make him want to repeatedly wash his hands. On the opposite side of the fence from HARDY's wild gregariousness is MARGO (who are the Goblins?) PREY who played the mother in T2. MARGO has gone all SHIRLEY JACKSON and crashed down somewhere between GREY GARDENS and yours truly. Yes, she's a shut-in with cat posters hanging on the wall and she's eleven hundred types of awesome.

What makes BWM really special and more than worthy of an Oscar nom for best doc is the fact that it catches a spectrum of different interpretations of its subject matter. It would have been easy to just focus on the fluffy fandom but beyond its RASHOMON recognitions of the actual creation of the film, BWM tells us something true about art in general as its meaning, worth and identity fluctuates depending on who you ask. The director believes he has captured Americana, the writer is convinced that she has created an indictment against vegetarians, HARDY gets that it's funny but doesn't seem to understand to whom it may be funny to and PREY, glorious PREY, with the delusional certainty of a TENNESSEE WILLIAMS heroine, likens TROLL 2 to CASABLANCA. Like any great documentarian STEPHENSON gives all of these visions unbiased attention and the final result ends up telling us more about how we all live in our own conjured realities than it does about the fictional town of NILBOG.

In other words don't be fooled by how fun this movie is it to watch, not only does it reveal something reaffirming about film fandom in general but it also ends up suggesting something astute about the human experience. We all live in universes of our own creation when it comes right down to it and in my universe TROLL 2 resembles CASABLANCA more and more with each passing year.

NOTE: Visit BEST WORST MOVIE at its official home right over HERE!

The Innocents (1961)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

One of the most powerful aspects of HENRY JAMES's novella THE TURN OF THE SCREW is its elusive, hard to pin down nature. The story itself behaves in a ghostly manor, flittering and floating in and out of focus while cornering the reader into the position of questioning the validity of all they encounter. JACK CLAYTON's TRUMAN CAPOTE-penned, FREDDIE FRANCIS (THE ELEPHANT MAN)-lensed cinematic adaptation has a similar modus operandi (although it does throw us an extra bone of solid information by giving our protagonist, at last, a name.) The big question seems to be whether nervous governess Miss Giddens (DEBORAH KERR) is, in actuality, encountering the supernatural or whether she is, in fact, insane. Are the apparitions real or only in her head? After a recent watch I have come to the conclusion that Giddens is bat shit bonkers regardless of whether the "abominations" are real or not.

Having zero experience in childcare, Miss Giddens is hired to take care of two neglected orphans by their emotionally stunted playboy uncle. He gives her complete control of their well being provided he doesn't have to hear about it and she swoons and coos like a Victorian TWILIGHT fan at his glacial unavailability. He asks her if she has an imagination and she replies with the understatement of the century "Yes." I don't mean to be too hard on Giddens, I know she means well, but once you get to know her you realize that her masochistic longing to be lost in the shadow of something larger than herself has catastrophic results. Really, if the children left under your charge have only a fifty percent survival rate, you should expect a certain amount of criticism.

The fact that Gidden's loose screws need a few extra turns is evident from the start. Taking her humble pastor's daughter background into account, Gidden's overwhelmed reaction to the wondrous country estate she is to oversee is understandable. What's less comprehensible is her exaggerated enchantment with not only her employer but his niece and nephew. If she's to be an authority figure she's off on the wrong foot, routinely claiming to be swayed this way and that by the charms of others. It sets up a precedent that weaves through the entire tale; that Giddens herself is unaccountable for her actions. Her dealings with young Flora (PAMELA FRANKLIN) seem, at first, natural enough but when Flora's sibling Miles is expelled from school for vague reasons her bearings begin to wobble. This is when her previously mentioned "imagination" gets revved up and Gidden's imagination has the tendency to conjure up the worst possible scenario whenever it is given space to do so.

By her own account Giddens was raised under close scrutiny in a space too small for secrets. Suddenly the world is open to her and her mind can travel to wherever it chooses. She states that children need, "someone to belong to them and to whom they belong" but like many a neurotic the wants and desires that she projects upon others are, in reality, her own. Gidden's unwarranted enthrallment to the children's uncle flares clear as day. A fire is sparked but it needs to be fed to burn. Her feelings, like clipped flowers, require a vase. While playing hide and seek with the children, Giddens comes across an old photo of a striking dark eyed man. She has found the vessel for her desires, desires that scare the bejeezus out of her. For perhaps the first time in her life Giddens is in a position of power and her longings undermine her newfound sense of control. Every bonehead move she makes from here on out is a misplaced attempt to regain equilibrium and command. The witch-hunt has begun, there are dark forces about and she alone can sense them. She becomes the personification of the adage that when you point a finger at someone else you have four fingers pointing back at yourself.

As it was then and as it ever will be, the best method of crafting an impenetrable cloak of immunity is to state that your actions are "for the children." Giddens hysteria is allowed to breed unchecked once her righteous motives are declared. She grills the housekeeper Mrs. Grose for any morsel of deviance she can unearth. Peter Quint, the man in the photo and Miss Jessel the former governess (who was not as pretty as Giddens by the way) had an illicit affair before they both kicked the bucket. We are told that Quint (not unlike the children's uncle) had a mesmerizing power that made resistance to his will futile. Their love was a "sickness" and who knows the horrors that the two innocent children witnessed. Giddons and Grose's exchange plays out like an over the clothesline gossip exchange between BEWITCHED's Mrs. Kravitz and THE SIMPSONS' Helen Lovejoy. Giddens can barely hide her lady boner under her hoop skirt of scandalized indignation.

To me, Miss Giddens shows her hand clearly and I'm not buying her, "For the children" catchall excuse in the slightest. She's not concerned that the children may have been traumatized. She doesn't care that they are in a state of mourning. It doesn't even register that the children have made no complaint of ill treatment. Her choice of wording, that the children have been "contaminated" is such a red flag, it's a wonder she's not trampled by a wayward bull. She seems more concerned that the children have a wanton knowledge that she is not privy to and her efforts to make them confess that supposed knowledge is unforgivable. The way she tries to force Flora into saying that she sees the ghost of Miss Jessell, someone whom Flora was close to and who died within the past year, resembles the type of forced coercion you might find in a police interrogation. When Mrs. Grose admits that she didn't see the phantom either, she is promptly accused of betrayal. Giddens eventually puts her foot down. It is made clear that she is in charge of the house and by some spurious extension, in charge of what everybody sees or does not see.

Again, whether the ghosts are real or unreal, is to me, beside the point. It's Miss Giddens reaction to what she perceives which should be scrutinized. I don't blame her for being unnerved by the uncanny but her sightings of these entities, even if accepted as authentic, are generally neutral. No real threat is ever made and she pulls her assumptions about possession and the children's complicity right out of the air. Even more telling is her magical solution to her imagined crisis, everyone must simply admit that she is right and it will all go away. People tell you who they are and Giddens is never in deeper focus then when she states "My father taught me to love people and help them. Help them even if they refuse my help and even if it hurts them sometimes."

Giddens does indeed hurt Miles and she hurts Flora as well, that is what tends to happen when someone unable to face their own demons, projects them onto somebody else. Conspiracy and possession theories aside, Giddens does exhibit a particular fear of Miles. Their intimacy level is disturbing overall but when things come to a head he calls her on the fact that she does not see him as "normal." It's easy for the viewer to read Miles' sophistication as creepy but his adult demeanor carries an extra worry for Miss Giddens. Before his light is snuffed out he exposes Giddens' worst fret of all, that she's fooled no one and that her pleads for compliance reveal her fear that she is going mad.

As Giddens sees or imagines Quint's laughing visage nodding in approval, Miles sends the point home calling her a hussy and a dirty-minded hag. She rationalizes it's the voice of Quint but perhaps it's merely the up ‘til then AWOL voice of reason. That may sound harsh, and I'm not unmoved by Giddens' momentary flash of understanding of the horror she herself has caused but the fact remains that she had many chances to rethink her route and ignored them. I think her real fear of Miles may have come from the idea that he, unlike the impressionable and uneducated Mrs. Grose and his younger sister, could see right through her. Maybe Miss Giddens is easily swayed and charmed but Miles is another story.

The final question may be why does Giddons when offered a newfound freedom cower at the foot of her own desires? Is her strict religious background to blame? Check out her expression when Flora relates her understanding that a ghost is one that God has judged to be "bad" and has thus been "left behind" and then get back to me.

Please don't misinterpret my condemnation of Giddens as a critique of the film. It's a truly brilliant piece of work and as far as ghost stories go it's only peer is ROBERT WISE's THE HAUNTING which it predates. If you want to wait for a superior take on the HENRY JAMES story prepare to wait forever. Besides being a visual stunner, its use of sound is absolutely extraordinary and remains influential to this day (THE INNOCENTS is even sampled in the cursed tape from 2002's THE RING.)

Director CLAYTON deserves big ups for not pushing too strongly one way or the other and allowing the viewer to choose their own path and decipher the images however they choose. The two child actors, MARTIN STEPHENS (VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED) and PAMELA FRANKLIN (THE LEGEND OF HELL HOUSE) give unforgettable performances and DEBORAH KERR as Giddens has an intense sincerity that convinces you to the core. KERR is so good that I believed her and Miss Giddens the first dozen or so times I saw THE INNOCENTS. I guess being bombarded by hysterical propaganda and fear mongering on television all these years has had its benefits. Somewhere along the line I've learned to worry less about the steely glint in the theoretical Quint's eye and worry more about the fanatical frenzy in the eyes of the very real Miss Giddens.

Blood and Lace (1971)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Netflix streaming is blowing my mind as of late. I keep stumbling across movies not available on DVD and in the case of BLOOD AND LACE, never released on VHS either. It was probably nearly a decade ago that I went on a mad search for this vaporous movie. I eventually ended up with a bootleg tape whose image was so gray and vague I couldn't even watch it. That was then and this is now. The version I just witnessed, thanks to Netflix, is widescreen and as crispy bright as an acid flashback. Can you believe that once upon a time Netflix and I hated each other? Now look at us! I totally understand why dogs hump legs.

So besides unavailability, what's so special about BLOOD AND LACE? (Not an especially helpful title by the way!) Check this out….

It opens with a P.O.V. murder. The killer enters a kitchen, opens a drawer and yanks out the weapon of choice. They then proceed to go upstairs to complete their nasty chore. How can you not think of HALLOWEEN?

A young girl wakes up to find a man looming over her with a burned face and a shocking red shirt. Everyone tells her that it was only a dream. I'm telling ya, it's straight out of A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET.

Human bodies are treated like meat and stored in a freezer sort of like in THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE.

The big crazy is a woman of a certain age played by a Hollywood veteran just like a little movie called FRIDAY THE 13th!

What's so fascinating about all that is that BLOOD AND LACE is from 1971! (The copyright on the actual film is 1970.) Now, I don't want to accuse anybody of copying anybody's homework so let's just say the collective unconscious works in mysterious ways. In any case, this movie couldn't be more ahead of its time and it can't stop doing the Nostradamus boogie!

Of course, BLOOD AND LACE is not for everybody. It's acting is amateurish in spots, the story and the character's behavior push credibility often and the whole business is drive-in trashy. The soundtrack, which comes across as random records being played, is the biggest drawback and could possibly be blamed entirely for this movie missing the appreciation that it deserves. Personally, I don't mind any of those factors too much and I don't think any other fans of seventies cinema will either. This is the type of movie that would never get off the ground today; it's grim, sleazy, gory, startlingly perverse and believe it or not, PG (well, GP to be exact).

After Ellie Masters (adorable yet sturdy MELODY PATERSON) witnesses her by all (and I do mean ALL) accounts whorish mother's brutal bludgeoning via hammer, she is sent to a group home (apparently specializing in rather old-looking kids.) The orphanage is ruled over by a sadist named Mrs. Deere (a fantastically off-putting GLORIA GRAHAME) and her knuckle-dragging goon of a handyman, Kredge. It's the kind of place where escape is discouraged with cleavers chopping off hands, starvation-torture and being frozen alive in a meat locker. Ellie, no chump, knows something's fishy and every revelation she comes across is more lurid than the last. Look for appearances by ALICE's VIC TAYBACK, SEINFELD's "Unkle Leo" LEN LESSER (as Kredge) and a young DENNIS CHRISTOPHER (IT, FADE TO BLACK). You'll thank me later for not revealing much more.

The way I see it, BLOOD AND LACE shares more than just a freezer in common with THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE in that the tune it's humming seems to be a requiem for the idealism and hopefulness of the sixties. The trapped teens we find throughout dream of a freedom just beyond reach but ultimately wake up to the odious conclusion that the callous constructs created by the previous generation are impossible to scale over. In one of the films most lingering moments the youth, when presented with an actual chance to flee, stand motionless and passive. It's as if they've come to the conclusion that there really is no escape and that the outside world offers them nothing more. Similar to the NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET series, adults are consistently shown as corrupt, covetous, cruel and predatory. The evil Mrs. Deere even taunts Ellie with the ultimate curse that one day she will be like her.

This is some gritty dark twisted material and yet it's sometimes filmed like a bright sparkling seventies Coke commercial. If you're a fan of grindhouse and cult cinema, you're sure to snuggle up fast. It's quite an unusual mix of innocence and salacity and though it's on the surface crude and exploitative, I think it ends up saying something pretty interesting about how one generation goes about limiting and crippling the next. As blunt and brutal as BLOOD may be, the real nightmare here is the woebegone pessimistic dread that the young can never free themselves from the enslaving patterns they inherit from the old. Well, that's the movie I saw anyway.

BLOOD AND LACE is the one and only film directed by PHILIP S. GILBERT which is a real shame. Even though its low budget impedes, its soundtrack is atrocious and it's sometimes unintentionally comical, I'm head over heals with how unabashed it is about rattling its ribald chains. Its slip may be showing but its flirty attraction to the grotesque is inspiring. If you ask the person named me, this is one genuine lost classic so forward-thinking that it's able to predict the future of horror both on and off the screen.

Let Me In

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I, for one, did not need another film version of JOHN AJVIDE LINDQVIST's novel LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. The 2008 Swedish film of the same title directed by TOMAS ALFREDSON is, in my opinion, as good as it gets. Still, I couldn't help but be curious. Plus, how in the name of hell was I NOT going to support the first HAMMER production in nearly thirty-five years? Seriously, I felt like I got my moolah's worth as soon as I saw that legendary name projected upon the theater screen…

The good news is that LET ME IN, directed by CLOVERFIELD's MATT REEVES, is NOT a steaming pile of useless garbage. Maybe it's my vivid imagination but I detected an earnest affection for the material. I can't say it casts the same lyrical spell that the earlier interpretation did but it does score gold stars for the respect it pays the core relationship within the story. I have no idea why it chooses to indulge in subpar CGI when it is clearly unnecessary but overall LET ME IN is nothing if not dignified. Most miraculously, it has a purposeful patience and a rare kind of faith that its audience doesn't require non-stop jump jolts and bombastic musical cues masquerading as scares to remain attentive.

(Some might argue that its poor box office showing proves that faith was squandered but c'mon, why would anyone think remaking a two-year-old film, vampiric or otherwise, would be a sure thing?)

Chances are you are already familiar with LET ME IN's plot. A lonely bullied boy (this time named Owen rather than Oskar) befriends a vampire (this time named Abby instead of Eli) and both parties gain comfort from their quixotic bond. The boy learns to defend himself, the vampire learns to trust and every one rejoices when a douchbag's decapitated head sinks to the bottom of a swimming pool.

As you might have guessed I LOVE this story! Both cinematic adaptations shy away from the gender smudging found in the book but slyly slide the same gist forward anyway. Spiritual connection is the point here and whatever junk one may be packing is incidental. It's the type of symbiotic platonic relationship that is rarely acknowledged or celebrated in our culture. (Possibly because Madison Avenue has yet to discover anything as potent as gender inadequacy fears to sell antiperspirant.) Well, the world may not have much use for bonds like Owen's and Abby's but they themselves sure do. Is it romantic? Yes, anytime someone gifts you a Rubik's cube it's fucking romantic.

NOTE: Strangely enough the other night I was watching 1995's LEAVING LAS VEGAS and was struck by how much it resembled LET THE RIGHT ONE IN. Just switch out the blood for booze and you have a sister tale of lost souls building their own hideaway from the world and creating a relationship based on their own and not traditional terms.

As much as LET ME IN doesn't suck, there's not much that the 2008 version doesn't do better than the 2010 one. Some shoes require more than noble intentions to fill them. That said, I did find enjoyment in some of the newer version's riffs and alterations. REEVES' choice to amp up Owen's latch key solitude by CHARLES SHULTZ-ing his parents into non-entities is cynical, savvy and spot on. He also ends up giving vampire Abby's caretaker/father (the always marvy RICHARD JENKINS) a much more robust and ultimately more frightening spin. There's a car crash scene he's involved in that will undoubtedly have many folks double checking their seatbelts far into the future.

Being permanently trapped in the eighties my rad self (by choice mind you!) I also slobbered at the welcome edition of poppy new wave hits by gender blenders BOWIE and BOY GEORGE. The piece de resistance for me though occurs when Abby pushes the play button on a tape player in a makeshift clubhouse and none other than my juju jam FRUER's DOOT DOOT begins its cricket chirping intro. I know I've mentioned it once before but that song gives my goosebumps goosebumps and it's a perfect choice here for another blast of menthol.

Hate to say it but the biggest problem for me lies in this film's two leads. Both CHLOE MORTEZ as Abby and KODI-SMIT MCHEE as Owen do incredible, outstanding jobs with their parts but I found it near impossible to let go of LINA LEANDERSON and KARE HEDEBRANT's interpretations. (Obviously that's a bias that will not hit you if you are seeing this version first.) Both kids had my support and sympathy but a neon sign in my noggin kept flashing "Imposter!" Like cloned sheep, BLADE RUNNER replicants and that dang robot kid from A.I., I wished them the best but couldn't quit shake the feeling of some kind of glossy innate falsity. Maybe that's just my hang-up; MORTEZ can act up a storm all she wants but at the end of the day I'll always prefer my vampire critters looking more like ALICE COOPER than SCARLETT JOHANSSON. In a similar way the whole of the newer version is just a tad bit too pristine and lacks the natural more earthy rawness of the previous film.

Alright, I admit it, I miss the killer kitties, is that so wrong?

Separating legitimate criticism from knee jerk loyalty gets a bit like untangling Christmas lights here. I guess the important thing is that LET ME IN does a better job than one could reasonably expect, all things considered. Arriving unfashionably late and offering not much more than another excuse not to read something, its fate as an also-ran is pretty much sealed. On the other hand, I think the material deserves to be discovered in any way it can be; if this version is able to reach somebody that the first film or the novel failed to then more power to it. I say experience LET THE RIGHT ONE IN in any way, shape, format or under any title you can. It not only avoids the superficial mire most vampire tales get stuck in but it stands as a gleaming example of the vast depths that the horror genre, in general, is capable of and is rarely given credit for. If you've seen the first film, there's a "been there done that" quality to LET ME IN for sure, but personally I'd much rather retrace these worthwhile footsteps in the snow than follow another newer path that leads absolutely nowhere.

Invaders from Mars (1986)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I think I was the exact wrong age to appreciate INVADERS FROM MARS when it crashed into theaters. I was too old to take it seriously and too young to take it humorously. Now that I'm in my introspective, open-minded post-prime you'd think I ‘d be able to rediscover it as a diamond in the rough but nah, same as ever, my patented me-likey meter still reads "not so much." Yep, I'm saying my TOBE HOOPER love train jumps a smidge off the track with INVADERS FROM MARS but that's O.K. What's a romance without a splash of apathy?

On paper we're made for each other, INVADERS, based on the 1953 classic of the same title, is basically a kid's eye view of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (the original INVADERS actually predates SNATCHERS.) The material can't help but capture a specific and crucial time in any adolescent's life when they begin questioning the motives of their parents and start forming their own perceptions of the world. If you can find a decent copy of it (good luck with that) the original is a trippy mind-bending maze of forced perspectives that functions like a pint-sized, paranoid WIZARD OF OZ. There may be some movies that shouldn't be remade but this isn't one of them. Every generation deserves their very own INVADERS FROM MARS.

HOOPER gets some important things right in his re-do. He's able to modernize the tale without completely evaporating the previous take's naiveté and who knows better how to collide the everyday with the bizarre? We're invited into a picturesque home with a cartoon picket fence and doesn't that hilly pathway in the backyard look like it leads directly to Munchkin land? It's a hokey patchwork paradise but no worries, we're dealing with a remake of a fifties film so the cardboard ideal makes sense. Some of the visuals really do chime and reverberate. I love how HOOPER transforms a simple window in a child's bedroom into a portal into another world, that's some good stuff. So where does the crystal ball get dropped?

What I like about the HOOPER is his looseness but yep, that's his downfall too. The second half of INVADERS is as slack as a wet noodle. Plus, I can't believe I'm saying this about the guy who directed THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, but I think he can be too lenient with his performers. Was he afraid to ask for a second take from this bunch?

TIMOTHY BOTTOMS and LOUISE FLETCHER get it right the first time but some of the other apparently on the D.L. thespians here need discipline! I appreciate that HUNTER CARSON is not your typical precocious Hollywood imp but sometimes he sounds like he's reading the back of a cereal box. Furthermore, like any self-respecting horror fan I've saved room for KAREN BLACK in my last will and testament but in my opinion she is miscast here. She's too transtasticly fierce to pull off a fumbling schoolmarm/nurse. Is it too late for her and LARAINE NEWMAN who plays the kid's mom to switch roles?

What's that you say Aunt John? It IS too late for that? 24 years too late in fact? Fine, it was just a suggestion. A suggestion that made absolute sense considering BLACK is CARSON's real life mommy and that she can play creepy better than nearly anyone but hey, who listens to me? What do I know?

All right, enough with the negative. I didn't start writing because I needed to find a new way to bitch (…or did I?) INVADERS FROM MARS is fun. Not terribly fun but fun enough. My eyes glaze over a bit when the military gets involved but that's not exclusive to this movie. I only enjoy the military in movies when they are fighting giant ants. I think this movie is worthwhile just for LOUISE FLETCHER really. She doesn't need to steal scenes, people just hand them over to her and then thank her for the privilege of being robbed.

I'm thinking there's plenty out there who get warm fuzzy nostalgia vapors over INVADERS and I don't begrudge them that in the slightest. Its got its fair share of fumbled opportunities and foul balls but it's a kid's movie that's willing to get dark and twisted and that is always welcome here. I might suggest watching RETURN TO OZ instead but I used to make my Han Solo and Princess Leia action figures get married (with Chewie as the best man) so you might want to ask somebody cooler than me.

Wait, wait, in the words of CURT COBAIN, I have a new complaint. Nice job on the Martian monsters recently departed and forever will be missed STAN WINSTON, but it's painfully obvious that you made exactly and only two (not counting the leader-brain). They keep dying and reappearing but you only ever see two at a time! You and TOBE couldn't get together and figure out something with split screens or blue screens or miniatures or something? How about a mirror? A simple mirror would have worked. Two does not seem like very many monster costumes to me. I think there were at least three Sleestak suits in LAND OF THE LOST. I guess that's probably the least of INVADERS problems but I'm just saying…

You know what? The sand whirlpool thing works better in the original and that's not really acceptable either…

So, INVADERS FROM MARS is not my favorite HOOPER movie by a long shot but it'll do in a pinch. Like a pop-tent without a pole I suppose you can squirm in there to get out of the rain if you have to, but a little more ingenuity and whip cracking would have made a universe of difference. It's starts well and I admire its intentions, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I went from happy to nappy before the end and I mean the FINAL end because there are like, three endings. Yes, this movie has more endings than it does monster costumes and that's never a good idea. Still, LOUISE FLETCHER, she undeniably owns.

Don't Go To Sleep…Now!

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I recently posted in our comments section about how the 1982 television movie DON'T GO TO SLEEP is currently up and running on YouTube… but that's just not enough! I have to urge you guys on our front page to try to check it out this weekend. You just never know when something like this will get pulled and you may not get another chance to see it again outside of expensive, unreliable bootlegs. This movie comes highly recommended not only by the two person staff of Kindertrauma, but also by the queen of T.V. movies herself, Amanda By Night of MADE FOR TV MAYHEM!

DON'T GO TO SLEEP stars VALERIE HARPER (NIGHT TERROR), DENNIS WEAVER (DUEL), RUTH GORDON (ROSEMARY'S BABY) and OLIVER ROBINS (of POLTERGEIST fame.) It's the story of a little girl who comes back from the dead to convince her living sister to avenge her and it kind of rules on a zillion levels. It's a classic television movie that lifts from the popular slasher films of its day and it's pretty creepy, slightly campy and a must see for those who dig that sort of thing.

After you've seen it, use this post's comments section as a forum to talk about it. If you are a fellow blogger, write a review and send us a link to it!

C'mon, it's too hot to go out and see PREDATORS! The first part is posted below. Click on the YouTube logo on the bottom of the right corner and it will take you to the rest! If you'd like to recreate that long lost feeling of staying up late and watching good horror on T.V., I can't think of a better way to start than with DON'T GO TO SLEEP. So come on kids, start not going to sleep now!

NOTE: Thanks to the awesome French blog VIDEOTOPSY for the archival TV GUIDE ad above and cool DR. GOREMAN for the press kit photo below.

The Blue Bird (1940)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

When I was little I came across the 1940 SHIRLEY TEMPLE movie THE BLUE BIRD several times on television. It's sort of the poor man's THE WIZARD OF OZ with SHIRLEY playing the part of a girl named Mytyl who along with her brother Tytyl embarks on a journey through the past and future searching for happiness in the form of the title bird. The children are aided by their dog Tylo and their cat Tylette, who thanks to some fairy magic, have taken human form.

Based on a 1908 play by MAURICE MAETERLINCK, there's plenty to find alarming about THE BLUE BIRD. The children's journey begins in a vast graveyard, their dead grandparents show up to pelt them with guilt, trees transform into vigilantes and finally they end up in some weird limbo place where unborn children in togas howl and cry about how short their time on Earth will be. Personally I was unmoved by any and all of the insanity on display except the unfortunate and fiery death of my favorite character, the cat lady Tylette.

As I watched THE BLUE BIRD again recently as an adult I can see that much of it flew over my head as a kid, most notably the fact that Tylette the cat is clearly drawn as a sinister, mischievous presence and that her demise is meant to be somewhat deserved. Was there something wrong with me as a kid that I would automatically gravitate toward this malevolent malcontent? Before you judge, look at how awesome she is…

To be honest, even as an adult I have sympathy for this devil. She knows that if the children were to discover the blue bird of happiness that she would have to revert back to her former self and remain a "dumb slave to man" forever. So what if a couple tykes have to die in order for her to remain master of her own fate? Let's face it; with names like Mytyl and Tytyl, those kids were bound for hard times anyway.

Tylette is brought to life by Oscar-winner GALE SONDERGAARD, who would go on to appear in several UNIVERSAL horror films like THE BLACK CAT (1941), THE SPIDER WOMAN (1944) and THE SPIDER WOMAN RETURNS (1946) (in which, again, GALE's death is caused by fire.) She was originally cast as the wicked witch in THE WIZARD OF OZ who was first conceived as a sinister glamour-puss similar to the evil queen in Disney's SNOW WHITE. When it was decided that a more haggard version of the witch was the way to go, GALE split and in came MARGARET HAMILTON. (HAMILTON nearly abandoned WIZARD herself when her costume caught fire and she was severely burned.) SODDENGAARD's career was seriously hampered when her husband, director HERBERT BIBERMAN, was accused of being a communist during the infamous red scare of the early ‘50s; she died in 1985

You know, as unhappy as I may still be with Tylette's fiery fate, there's no way around the fact that her death is the most exciting part of the film. In fact, the movie kind of looses its steam as soon as she departs. I know we are meant to learn from this tale that happiness can only be found at home but if you ask me, without an evil, self-serving sociopath like Tylette to share it with, happiness is for the birds.

CREEPY NOTE: During the filming of THE BLUE BIRD four year old actress CARYLL ANN EKELUND was burned to death off set when her birthday dress (or Halloween costume, depending on your source) caught on fire. She was buried in the clothes she wore in the film.

ALSO: I feel I should warn you that THE BLUE BIRD was made into a musical in 1976 starring JANE FONDA, ELIZABETH TAYLOR and a tiny PATSY KENSIT as Mytyl. Believe it or not, this American, Soviet Union co-production was directed by legendary director GEORGE CUKOR. It could very well be one of the worst movies of all time and masochists can find it on Youtube. In this version, Tylette is portrayed by CICELY TYSON. CUCKOR accused TYSON of using voodoo to curse the film.

MORE CREEPY: No joke, I was in a thrift store yesterday and this song was playing on the loudspeaker…(yes, I've double checked the smoke alarms)

Offspring

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I love JACK KETCHUM, he scares the hell out me and once opened, you'd need a crowbar to pry one of his books out of my hands. OFFSPRING, scripted by KETCHUM himself, is based upon the literary sequel to his inaugural terrorizer OFF SEASON. If you're wondering why we're being presented with an adaptation of a sequel before its predecessor, as with many movie head scratchers, it involves a behind the scenes legal issue of some sort. No matter, OFFSPRING works just as well as a standalone story. In fact, the skeletal plot shadows the original tale closely. Basically you have a group of civilized folks battling off a tribe of attacking feral cannibals. An ex-cop is brought in to aid the police and a bloody climax takes place in the cave dwelling of the snarly savages.

On the page KETCHUM can convince you of anything, but OFFSPRING, as a film, has a much steeper hill to climb. Even though I have to admit to being vaguely freaked during some scenes (particularly during the first major attack on the film's happy family) there's a great deal here that fails to persuade. I like to think of myself as pretty adept at forgiving a film its budgetary restrictions, but the cave here looks borrowed from SIGMUND AND THE SEA MONSTERS and unfortunately (thanks to Aunt John's tutelage) I now know a bad wig when I see one. Trust me, the wild marauders depicted are truly disturbing in their actions but, much like in the case of the now dated original THE HILLS HAVE EYES, it's difficult to always take the grunting, blackened-toothed actors in loin clothes seriously.

Lovers of raw, depraved cinema may find scraps to gnaw on here and I appreciate the sparse approach, especially in terms of the films soundtrack. Still, the lack of credibility remains a major roadblock. The reality is, bringing KETCHUM's vicious vision unadulterated to the screen is probably not only impossible but also illegal. Where say, THE GIRL NEXT DOOR made up for its cinematic limitations by concentrating on tone and performances, OFFSPRING, by nature, hasn't quite the same option. Director ANDREW VAN DEN HOUTEN (HEADSPACE) can't really be faulted for going straight for the jugular but without a believably solid rack to hang his entrails on, it's an empty gesture. OFFSPRING has disturbing moments for sure (how else can you describe an infant thrown like a football?), but mostly it just feels routinely (and too often, humorously)…off.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (A Holiday Classic!)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

In 1982 audiences across the globe cried like big babies because they didn't get their Michael Myers rattle in HALLOWEEN 3: SEASON OF THE WITCH. Talk about pearls before swine, a critical and commercial failure, H3, or as I like to call it "The non-stop genius show" was considered the redheaded step child, black sheep, blighted pimple of the HALLOWEEN franchise for years. When H3 walked down the streets of town, spinsters called it a floozy and spit on its shoes. Thankfully one day everyone everywhere decided to stop smoking crack and woke up to the obvious slice of perfection before them and declared HALLOWEEN 3: SEASON OF THE WITCH the greatest robot-infested, killer mask thriller that involves a stolen rock from Stonehenge that TOM ATKINS has ever starred in and an unmitigated holiday classic for all eternity. Nice job catching up dum-dums!

HALLOWEEN 3 knows how great it is, but it's not stuck up like some other sequels (get over yourselves TROLL 2 and LEPRECHAUN 4: IN SPACE!) The reason it works as well as it does may be because it is respectful enough to honor many of the holiday classics that came before it, particularly the untouchable RANKIN AND BASS cannon. Hear me now and believe me never, I've compiled the evidence and I almost know what I'm talking about. Below are some instances of suspicious overlapping that will make even the most credulous among you go hmmm, like you're at a C+C MUSIC FACTORY concert…

EVIL OLD BASTARDS!
Be it Conal Cochran or Burgermeister Meisterburger, one thing's for sure, old rich white dudes with nothing but time on their hands want to rain on your parade. These guys hate holidays of all kinds because they promote joy and laziness amongst the masses.

SUFFER THE CHILDREN!
Our world's innocent children are always the targets in these nefarious schemes! I'm not sure what is worse, taking a child's toy away from them or making their head explode into a seething mass of snakes and vermin by way of vague witchery that incorporates Halloween masks, television signals and stone shavings from Stonehenge, but both sound like they would be about as appealing to a kid as a McDonald's Salad Shaker.

CAPITALSM: A LOVE STORY
Putting aside children's general unhappiness and/or mass annihilation, just think of what the absence of holidays would do to our struggling economy! Granted if Cochran's plan were to come to pass, insecticides and snake trap sales would go through the roof, but only at the expense of the bankruptcy of Ferra Pan.

TOWNSPEOPLE ARE PARANOID AND NOSY!
In some cases they are fearful of strangers wearing bright red outfits and in other cases they are rightfully curious about what's going on in that motel room between that old guy and that young chippy that could be his daughter.

NEVER TOO BUSY FOR HITTIN' BOOTS
Everyone with awe inspiring facial hair knows that when the going gets tough, the tough get busy and by busy I mean, (insert gross sexual euphemism of your choice here) wink-wink, nudge-nudge or as the audience on FAMILY MATTERS says "Woooooooooo!"

CLOCKWORK MINIONS!
With the possible exceptions of Hitler and RACHAEL RAY, most obvious embodiments of evil have a hard time finding gullible yes men to do their bidding. Enter robots; robots do what you tell them to do and you never have to thank them or worry about unionization.

THE HERO IS CAPTURED!
Well, at least one of these guys gets to watch the original HALLOWEEN during entrapment.

EVIL HEADGEAR
A talking Easter bonnet or a booby-trapped Halloween mask; who's to say which is more foul and diabolical?

BRAIN NUMBING TUNES!
What better way to get an audience to remember you than cramming a torturously repetitive song into their heads?

STILL NOT CONVINCED?
Neither am I, so here's a shot of Mrs. Claus with her face blasted by a laser beam and a bug crawling out of her mouth!

The Hills Run Red

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I admit to being completely turned off by the derivative box art for THE HILLS RUN RED, but from what I had gleaned from various sources the movie was not your typical Johnny-stab-lately. Indeed, although HILLS RUN RED could never be mistaken for top tier horror it has much to distinguish itself from the ranks of your typical straight to DVD muck. Don't get me wrong, this jam is straight from the taco truck, the ingredients are cheapo and it's not very pleasing to the eye, but for those with a hankering for something quick and filling with a bit of a spicy kick, it hits the spot.

Do you know what doesn't cost anything? Having an interesting plot. THE HILLS RUN RED gets an instant leg up on its peers with its intriguing premise concerning a long lost eighties slasher flick and the lengths one cinemaphile will go to in order to track it down. Any horror movie fan who remembers the days before the Internet will recall just how elusive some of the lesser known jewels used to be. I couldn't help feeling an instant sense of recognition with our main leads quest and got a nerd-on every time a faux poster or trailer for the fictional Holy Grail horror flick was shown.

Not that anybody needs to be getting their STREEP on in a film like this but the acting, borderline horrible in the first half of the film, becomes surprisingly good when situations require it. Perhaps the late in the game appearance of Mr. Awesome WILLIAM SADLER inspired the green pups. (Careful Mr. SADLER, you are approaching DOURIF/HENRICKSON territory in my heart.) By film's end I was satisfied having gotten the "lost in the woods with a maniac" scenario I had ordered and then thankfully so much more. (Not to ruin anything, but I am a sucker for flicks that are kind enough to include an audience of corpses in the climax.)

Perhaps most importantly in a film of this kind is the fact that the killer "Baby face" works as a formidable threat and kudos to director DAVE PARKER for not being all stingy with his boogeyman. Gore hounds have a rare reason to rejoice as well, the murders depicted are for the most part gloriously old school and put many a recent slasher remake to shame. The over-the-top cartoon violence fun only wanes when the slasher tributes end and the more modern torture procedural is momentarily adopted.

For the most part, THE HILLS RUN RED's weakest aspects tend to work in its favor. I'm sure if you are of the mind to enjoy the gore, the nudity and the monstrous hulk known as "Baby face" that you have shuffled your way through much more inept excursions than this. I wouldn't be dusting off the mantel for too many awards if I was DAVE PARKER, but I would be patting myself on the back for delivering a fitting and surprisingly substantial addition the backwoods slasher sub genre.