tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25851421281450200072024-03-05T04:06:01.479-08:00old dark houseCraig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-30074544236411499662021-08-14T16:01:00.009-07:002021-08-14T17:04:02.070-07:00If I Was the New Gub'nor of Californyuh...<br>With hellfighting already the most important job in the state, the fires ain’t going away and they’ll pro’lly end up being a year-round constant threat. Sometimes being told to evacuate before you even knew there's a fire. <br><br>We’re fucked.<br><br>
So I negotiate with the feds for Beale AFB. That patch of nowhere east of Marysville. The base doesn’t serve any real purpose these days but it’s perfect for a standing fleet of firefighting heroes. An absolute at-ready Fire Force Base ideally positioned to cover the North State at the blare of a fire horn.<br><br>
Staff it with professional forest firefighting aces but also recruit non-violent and able-bodied state prisoners as full-time firefighters. Training year-round. For the term of their sentence but with that redemption arc. It’s a tough gig but better than a cell. And any bad acting gets you back in the pen.<br><br>
Rehabilitate a percentage of the prison guards into being supervisors. No fence around the base but the threat of ending up back in prison. No booze and mandatory monthly drug-testing. For prisoners and civilian staff alike. Most people aren't good at firefighting when they're baked and a sudden fire knows no clock. <br><br>The barracks stand for singles but the housing area allows for families to reunite. To grow strong. There’s already a hospital, a public school and lots of recreational facilities. A theater.<br><br>
Beale is an airport with a small town attached. <br><br>
When contract served there’s also the opportunity to stay on as a career public servant at generous wages. Any punk with a gun can be a cop but it takes a hero to be a HellfighterCraig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-62413632250430562842017-07-17T17:09:00.002-07:002021-02-26T10:37:11.859-08:00Thanks For My Brain, Mr. Romero<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt-cWbPHX7LvCVGs6znAsxHGA7hXjTvZIzR6wvlFg9DB9KMn3iXg5RrpFN87JsW41fxS8GKLa9EKfpZfO-eTT_nTqYVAPHxjLBjTCZ9wNv9AgAWm2ZS-v-LLipGsFoyHBHhjPfT5mtppQ/s1600/20108516_10209690346960731_400016360590362766_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWt-cWbPHX7LvCVGs6znAsxHGA7hXjTvZIzR6wvlFg9DB9KMn3iXg5RrpFN87JsW41fxS8GKLa9EKfpZfO-eTT_nTqYVAPHxjLBjTCZ9wNv9AgAWm2ZS-v-LLipGsFoyHBHhjPfT5mtppQ/s400/20108516_10209690346960731_400016360590362766_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white;">All through the scorched-earth that was 2016, I was going, "Just not Romero, okay?" We made it to July 16th, 2017. And so it goes. <br /><br />"Another one for the fire."</span><br />
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white;">Romero is what got me to finally log-on to teh internet back in 2000; he had a message board (georgearomero.com) that he'd drop by on occasion. And so after becoming a member, that's where I gradually picked up the basic rules for web etiquette. But then, he ended up shuttering it a few years later because of all the trolls and the constant flame wars...</span><br />
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">NIGHT and DAWN shaped so much of my thinking that they're literally part of my psychological DNA. The satire shaped a lot of my political beliefs and my love of metaphor. I have no idea who I'd be if it wasn't for those two movies. </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">The thing about George A. Romero's zombie films is that they are a metaphorical – literally – snapshot of the era they are filmed in. NIGHT captures 1968 in a way that no documentary ever will. DAWN was the dawn of American consumerism lurching out of control in disco colors. DAY was the Reagan-era down to its last squabbling military complex survivors. And ultimately the remake of NIGHT was a harbinger of Hollywood auto-cannibalism. </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">Thing is, sometimes it takes a decade (or so) to see his satire in 2020 focus. So – seeing that every newly-dead artist gets legitimized in pop culture – the time has come to re-evaluate the frequently derided LAND, DIARY and SURVIVAL. </span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">LAND operates on an almost meta-level; Romero has way more money than he's used to playing with while his primary satirical target is the 1% holing up in the castle looking down at the peasants and the zombies with equal disdain. The wealth disparity wasn't so obvious in 2005, but little did we know that Dennis Hopper was playing Donald Trump.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPYEJ3szlS0lowPUQPIcCaF6R0gsHDWC0CK-OUo2KKmDzZ-2t5wB2zxtWjgKd3HM5LGj39nLQZcF74BQEteJ7AKqaOsPRkH-TXBSbg8cSzuAJtCVBvUKSn1IAk5bw-2oEp98AWZ9B9e2p/s1600/20046641_10209692007642247_1301931463478807231_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPYEJ3szlS0lowPUQPIcCaF6R0gsHDWC0CK-OUo2KKmDzZ-2t5wB2zxtWjgKd3HM5LGj39nLQZcF74BQEteJ7AKqaOsPRkH-TXBSbg8cSzuAJtCVBvUKSn1IAk5bw-2oEp98AWZ9B9e2p/s640/20046641_10209692007642247_1301931463478807231_n.jpg" width="432" /></a><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">Personally I've always loved DIARY. It was Romero letting his hair down and having some no-stress fun on a DIY budget; a Peter Watkins-style mockumentary approach in the found-footage era an obvious lark. The poster is one of the few that shares limited space on my wall.</span></span></div>
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<span face=""verdana" , sans-serif" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">SURVIVAL was fun but I've only seen it once; perhaps the metaphor too freshly-minted in the moment to be obvious... all I recall were the annoying Irish accents (I used to work in an Irish bar) and the over-the-top Looney Tunes-style riffs (if pop culture was gonna lock him down in the zombie house, he at least felt free to have fun with his mythos). Time to revist... we at least have that.<br /><br />Thank you.</span></span></div>
Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-57394167095013862012016-10-31T17:02:00.001-07:002021-01-14T10:19:02.500-08:00WKBW 1520 on October 31, 1968<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds_(radio_1968)">"We interrupt this program..."</a></div>
<br /><br /><br />Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-75299625312289073112013-06-23T11:58:00.000-07:002013-07-06T09:00:01.177-07:00WHIRLED WAR Z<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPeFAQ1yjRWwWbEzYXpaCzms7c2sgRai9fM2eiAHOZEC1uA06-JADjBrdq4ZMNeLqgzrIv7cQIzp6kdkYBQMMpRqROEfnIKLluxRvi9v1K7AlxiCwVGgV6w0xoww335JSMp9cSN7J0kxqR/s1600/World-War-Z-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPeFAQ1yjRWwWbEzYXpaCzms7c2sgRai9fM2eiAHOZEC1uA06-JADjBrdq4ZMNeLqgzrIv7cQIzp6kdkYBQMMpRqROEfnIKLluxRvi9v1K7AlxiCwVGgV6w0xoww335JSMp9cSN7J0kxqR/s400/World-War-Z-3.jpg" width="265" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sorry, Virginia... despite the swell <a href="http://dagsparadigm.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/wwzconcept.jpg">concept art</a> that was all over the 'net at the beginning of the process, we don't get our</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://zombie.wikia.com/wiki/Battle_of_Yonkers">Battle of Yonkers</a>. Actually, there’s no
trace of Max Brooks’ clever zombie novel <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_Z">World War Z</a> to be found here,
other than some echoes in the dialogue. And the name. They could have just
labeled it <i><b>Brad Pitt vs. The Zombies</b></i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of course, I doubt that anyone who enjoyed the book expected even a rudimentary adaptation. It's not the kind of thing that lends itself to a summer tentpole. Written as a pastiche of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studs_Terkel">Studs Turkel's</a> oral histories, the novel obviously calls out for a HBO project in the style of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzScoJZrX94">Ken Burns</a>. That wouldn't pull in the teenagers, though. Although contemporary teens are probably more inclined to stream episodes of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbtwVxMHkw4"><i><b>The Walking Dead</b></i></a> or play some <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXFzVgD8thE"><i><b>Left4Dead</b></i></a> instead of wasting ten bucks on what's essentially a tweener movie with zombie sprinkles.</span><span class="st"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Bradster here is a retired UN spook (and </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
pancake-flippin’ </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">all- around family guy) who has his loved ones put on hold by a former boss
unless he re-ups and does something about all these damned zombies. Which he
does in a handful of noisy set-pieces loosely linked together to serve as
story, all of which are just variations of “Shit! Someone just made a noise and
here come the zombies! Run!”</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaytEjV_HjMlFRxag3Ij1Xm9nBTxoewHV7ErUfF4os3STeZEZ-FtAtd_ORB7QXngzvqyJPM2PgZKKi9oy1n_uP00ZczLoqOSNztwW-xNlC2z0wRuVjgCpdy6kUIJ9BOBoH4DgEJ2vqH_q2/s1600/world-war-z-trailer-brad-pitt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaytEjV_HjMlFRxag3Ij1Xm9nBTxoewHV7ErUfF4os3STeZEZ-FtAtd_ORB7QXngzvqyJPM2PgZKKi9oy1n_uP00ZczLoqOSNztwW-xNlC2z0wRuVjgCpdy6kUIJ9BOBoH4DgEJ2vqH_q2/s400/world-war-z-trailer-brad-pitt.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i>"At least I'm running manlier than Leonardo DiCaprio would have!"</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And here the infected come a’running, as director Marc
Forster emphasizes the swarming aspect of insects or even the disease itself. Or
Teapartiers. It’s a neat approach, although pretty much just a cranked-up
version of <a href="https://vimeo.com/7138423"><i><b>28 Days Later</b></i></a> that aims for adrenaline over the dread. There's not much in the way of suspense, because that would slow down the action. But as established with that one really bad James Bond flick, Forster still doesn't have a good eye for action either. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So what we get instead is a barely capable thriller
in zombie drag, with shaky-cam and muddy editing to keep you confused when the
shit hits the fan... ‘cause that’s the way it’d look in real life, man.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But not
too much blood ‘cause it’s PG-13. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So the running time is mostly that, with Pitt and other folks just run- ning about dodging zombies, screaming or shooting. Or
just talking and reiterating in between the running about what they were talking
over earlier so that no one in Beijing gets confused by the already very basic
story. Because this is the new brand of multiplex filler, any complexity
is homogenized into a simple noisy package calculated for mass international
consumption.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyO7KMUbtUalWjSmvaBCrHxa_V5dUTx1PJxM18HzW_lJkIjmcxZabPMEvBUORxWBD8W2IXHBh0-yFCN0EHqOBLvjEWa5c3N4zECb6KVNZE1WKDxL0EVBiS6gukTGzKUR0w_3O6ibHHOW_/s1600/world-war-z-scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyO7KMUbtUalWjSmvaBCrHxa_V5dUTx1PJxM18HzW_lJkIjmcxZabPMEvBUORxWBD8W2IXHBh0-yFCN0EHqOBLvjEWa5c3N4zECb6KVNZE1WKDxL0EVBiS6gukTGzKUR0w_3O6ibHHOW_/s400/world-war-z-scene.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span class="st">"<i>Don't fire until you see the pixels of their eyes!</i>"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But <i><b>World War Z</b></i> isn’t as epic as the title promises. A few
flashes of promise, but not <a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2013/06/brad-pitt-world-war-z-drama">200m worth of promise</a>. But it isn’t boring... it’s just
not compelling. Things keep moving but there's no one home. If the best zombie
films are about the subtext, the closest <i><b>WWZ</b></i> gets is as a metaphor for the
current <a href="http://www.salon.com/2013/06/15/lynda_obst_hollywoods_completely_broken/">Hollywood paradigm</a>. The industry is getting radioed and the suits are eating anything that gets in the way on their mad dash to the final cashout. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the darkest hour of the civil rights movement and Vietnam,
out- sider George Romero used <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvqqlvflQb4&feature=c4-overview&list=UU62yO9bibPdLm4xw3rJwnYA"><b>Night of the Living Dead</b></a></i> as a howl of
outrage over the spilled blood of <a href="http://www.phawker.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/jl_mlkassassination.jpg">good people</a> and a society bent on
<a href="http://media-1.web.britannica.com/eb-media/96/71296-004-0B8CB497.jpg">autocannibalism</a>. While Romero's allegory isn't all that subtle, it is still tone perfect. Even adjusted to today's dollar,<i><b> NOTLD</b></i> cost less than a million to make, but still held the allegorical power to make the horror film grow up overnight and along the way established the zombie genre as a vehicle for sociopolitical commentary and even philosophy. We have met the undead and they are us.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">45 Years Later... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">...and we have Hollywood dropping almost a quarter
of a billion dollars into the genre to shill how refreshing an ice cold <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5XHDwg4HtLHpFtyCl1U5c36UgrrG_e7EuYgNhmJhSDDdNHMX8ujy0VmoGMw2qf4QYqoZ_mxLKcNuwoXyHdIkQwg8HWHvgrbKhyJLoLQXzNI5V2Oz2K5J0FrmfnIAJND-5wkOdst6QRQg/s1600/Soylent_pepsi.jpg">Pepsi</a> can be after the hero saves his family — oh, and the humanity — from the
zombie apocalypse. Pop will eat itself, given that Romero’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6unvuLQPpA"><i><b>Dawn of the Dead</b></i></a> used the genre as a pitch black send-up of consumerism.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Which I suppose makes <b><i>WWZ</i></b> the first meta-zombie movie, made by zombies for zombies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>WWZ</b></i> has been an openly troubled production, with things going further south as Damon "I Haz Keyboard" Lindelof was brought in to </span><span style="font-size: small;">double-tap</span><span style="font-size: small;"> the ending. Here Pitt wears the resigned
air of wanting to finish already with the grief and just get to the wrap party. Maybe the breaking point came after reading
one of his co-producers explain <i><b>WWZ</b></i> to <i>Vanity Fair</i>: “It’s a zombie movie,” said
Ian Bryce. “They go around and bite people.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2QU0-IU8WTagkIU1aLJeXSuCO4InfIFpxAy_nuckN1E63jKx87cF2z2mlp9FZqrr2elRAtrhyphenhyphenxPIRVacGHp5USg8nh_XeynNmcwNTxZ2JyikE3GLS0eZWIKaVPAHIlSLpoWFIL4BsFrvz/s1600/world-war-z-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2QU0-IU8WTagkIU1aLJeXSuCO4InfIFpxAy_nuckN1E63jKx87cF2z2mlp9FZqrr2elRAtrhyphenhyphenxPIRVacGHp5USg8nh_XeynNmcwNTxZ2JyikE3GLS0eZWIKaVPAHIlSLpoWFIL4BsFrvz/s400/world-war-z-poster.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> "Okay... maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all..."</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Max Brooks’ novel is a lot more than that. The movie...
well, that’s pretty much it. But if that’s all you want out of your movie time
then, hey... you might like this. Or that. Hollywood product is pretty much
interchangeable at this point.</span></span></div>
Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-69122269885916893012013-02-04T13:41:00.000-08:002013-02-04T14:20:00.204-08:00THE ROCKET MAN (1954)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9bbAyt9s6FQfOT7uk5jm7mX7qM5-nm-aNKCLApd_laTjnaF6phHYy33gtTwNJrpnEmvAdkszGHbMfSN4yadRJSDX1mmG-bGNxndRl4iL5XrOUr-uM6AAKwufxmcS102zzxPwJY19lNHy/s1600/rocket_man_poster_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9bbAyt9s6FQfOT7uk5jm7mX7qM5-nm-aNKCLApd_laTjnaF6phHYy33gtTwNJrpnEmvAdkszGHbMfSN4yadRJSDX1mmG-bGNxndRl4iL5XrOUr-uM6AAKwufxmcS102zzxPwJY19lNHy/s400/rocket_man_poster_01.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
A forgotten film with John Agar and Anne Francis? And written by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TrQxeNEPLo">Lenny Bruce</a>? Well, sort of. It's before Anne Francis stars in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y4crGU7dkg">Forbidden Planet</a> and John Agar as he transitions from Shadow of The Duke to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pPdmppCW9M">fighting monsters</a>. And Bruce was only brought in to punch up a weary script
by Jack Henley, the scribe behind some of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDxZQc7icjM">Ma and Pa Kettle</a> things... <br />
<br />
...and
it shows. The world of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4E_tRCAPzQ">The Rocket Man</a> is aggressively provincial.
Everyone is chirpy in that Eisenhower-era sort of way and a boy can still get away pointing a gun at a politician and no one bats
an eye. <br />
<br />
The gun is a raygun, slipped to froggy-voiced seven-year-old Timmy
(<a href="http://content7.flixster.com/photo/11/56/62/11566213_ori.jpg">George 'Foghorn' Winslow</a>) by some teleportin' space perv. I mean,
look at this guy eyeballing Timmy outside the orphanage:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDrkaWAJqitSxP7bQ2DRvhc4YyXhpMsAwflNr9kmeYbcCIoY5BRBFTNQjdNFxd46oOmFttODayiZo-ljtPj0Of2Mn_LqMqdSGd2d2izWjZDLKlxSvtKeTxSIbiWfe1_FZJEtyw4XPhBvZ/s1600/ROCKET+MAN.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDrkaWAJqitSxP7bQ2DRvhc4YyXhpMsAwflNr9kmeYbcCIoY5BRBFTNQjdNFxd46oOmFttODayiZo-ljtPj0Of2Mn_LqMqdSGd2d2izWjZDLKlxSvtKeTxSIbiWfe1_FZJEtyw4XPhBvZ/s400/ROCKET+MAN.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">N</span>o reason given why Rocket Man gives a child a raygun. <span style="font-size: x-small;">M</span>ust
have been bored. </i></span><br />
<br />
Then Timmy is temporarily signed out of the orphanage by the
matronly Justice of the Peace (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AX5OJfqywdk">Spring Byington</a>) to stay over at her house in order to set up some narrative nonsense
about saving the orphanage from a crooked pol's landgrab. Agar drops by on some business for the sleazy pol, but is charmed out of participating in the scheme by Anne Francis. Every rare now and then Timmy points the raygun at things, but 95% of the running time is spent on domestic matters.<br />
<br />
A raygun in
the hands of an orphan in Mayberry, RFD has some dynamite potential
but the film can't be bothered. The high concept is lost in all the unrelated subplots. Basically, the MacGuffin-with-cheese just gets used to wrap things up in the
end, albeit pulling double duty as a <i>deux ex machina</i>. And although Lenny was called in to to polish some gags, aside from occasional Daddy-O phrasing you wouldn't know it. <br />
<br />
Granted,
it's a kids film, cranked out to make a matinee dime and then
discarded. But I'm guessing there were more than a few of the target demographic pretty unhappy with the bait-n-switch. The film couldn't afford even a half-assed rocket for the eponymous
dude. He just appears in a puff of smoke, pulls his <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SixWIIKN23k">Smiling Bob</a> face
and then disappears. But then, its cheapness is also sort of endearing.
Shot in someone's house and surrounding Bible Belt burg, it has a nice paint
peeling clutter to it... <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwj9jxdqdaiOHhtWIMuQIv1CqmkS8bADsiLU6gnK4AV0aBQr3YFsU_1yltV-q-Cb9jEp5bqWlyyEB625wSLfXhyphenhyphenuqfMhJOV_1dyio-sqqedxEiFcf05vQFXEFdVYXEr1HD3hSHp2AKZ_Y/s1600/i481982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwj9jxdqdaiOHhtWIMuQIv1CqmkS8bADsiLU6gnK4AV0aBQr3YFsU_1yltV-q-Cb9jEp5bqWlyyEB625wSLfXhyphenhyphenuqfMhJOV_1dyio-sqqedxEiFcf05vQFXEFdVYXEr1HD3hSHp2AKZ_Y/s400/i481982.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I suspect the producers were so tight they even had the actors use their own cars. I wonder how many kids they went through...</span></i><br />
<br />
But,
no...this is not some forgotten gem. It's kind of a chore, especially if
you go in expecting some Bruce satire to creep in (although he might
have gotten away with a stealth <a href="http://youtu.be/lsVCKtwfOIk">STD joke</a>). But as a snapshot of 1954 and
how sci-fi was still regarded, it's interesting. Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-91708845927549244132012-07-11T02:16:00.001-07:002012-07-11T16:59:55.499-07:00BLOOD STALKERS (1975)<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArLAtrydvqjXX7jf0BRDdyBAxBbZsyW4nsvSktNPtCPVijYmqq7n8IX3onN1G2G5217TX6lwvrIHRZESqNvbgZ6T30gUYtyniawVp0_4KwPbu8RQgBVSzVAKjdywaH2MsKyDFEfk_EXo_/s1600/bloodstalkers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArLAtrydvqjXX7jf0BRDdyBAxBbZsyW4nsvSktNPtCPVijYmqq7n8IX3onN1G2G5217TX6lwvrIHRZESqNvbgZ6T30gUYtyniawVp0_4KwPbu8RQgBVSzVAKjdywaH2MsKyDFEfk_EXo_/s400/bloodstalkers.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Encountering the regional shocker <b>Blood Stalkers</b> for the first time is a little like coming across a
forgotten Mason jar stuffed with a perfect chunk of </span><span style="font-size: small;">preserved </span><span style="font-size: small;">1978. A lot was
happening in horror that year, so it’s easy to understand why Robert Morgan’s first and only shot was drowned out in the roar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Admittedly another in
a long line of <b>Deliverance</b>-as-Grand Guignol shockers, <b>Blood Stalkers</b> main misfortune was
to arrive so late in the game to have the door slammed in their faces. </span><span style="font-size: small;">If 1968 was when
Romero dragged horror into adult- hood, 1978 is when Romero and Carpenter taught
it to swing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Blood was really starting to fly, but unfortunately <b>Blood Stalkers</b> didn't really deliver on that promise. And its style was deceptively unpolished. So by the time horror really began to go pick up speed, <b>Blood Stalkers</b> was lost in the wake of blood that opened the 80s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It surfaced briefly on home video, wearing a spoiler-y <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzFD3JQ9yBiXKwTiTXIxAUyjWRdpvFuYiQ6xuKdWUfm2vJKwDAULz_RXuLG_PbKuFcznLhFwJTuDFnKvMB_C_PZUEbuOOwHP1ycytfPCWAifmEZJCTPssy8E6ioNHydQbsCVjpQiGqxV7/s1600/Vidmark+Entertainment+Logo+2.bmp">Vidmark</a> sleeve and gathering dust on the
bottom row of the video racks. It has a modest entry
on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077245/">IMDb</a> and a few scattered reviews of grudging approval. Director Robert
Morgan seems to have went back to the woods after this. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9nCrXm5_wmdBn0jcjHyeADuEd4Eyzwka1vDGTGYPhgDmyj5Je5-rgMUI-7SMLIMXhTje1iTWX5JfgCPZJEvuvZEEUoEC9eXhunVNPpFZHLM-rH5Jr680pGXmo7e6JrTQAzTSg3db2qj35/s1600/BigfootMB1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9nCrXm5_wmdBn0jcjHyeADuEd4Eyzwka1vDGTGYPhgDmyj5Je5-rgMUI-7SMLIMXhTje1iTWX5JfgCPZJEvuvZEEUoEC9eXhunVNPpFZHLM-rH5Jr680pGXmo7e6JrTQAzTSg3db2qj35/s1600/BigfootMB1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The stuff out there on him is sketchy. He
first pops up in 1975’s <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYhS1X0u_q0&feature=results_main&playnext=1&list=PL436B8521A643F8C2"><b>Bigfoot: Man or Beast</b></a>, a documentary of questionable
authenticity. I had the pleasure of catching <b>B:MOB</b> during its run in a rustic Ohio theater. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>B:MOB</b> is amazing. It kicks
off exactly like how you'd think a straight-up parody of an early 70's Bigfoot
documentary would look. Our narrator is a stiff <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdMek7rzc18">John Cameron Swayze</a>-knockoff (one J. English Smith) waiting to interview a redneck as he roars
up on some motorized Tonka-sorta thing. What the hell purpose did it serve? I’ve
never seen such a contraption. But there it is. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUU8ElErPjqeNtTQFZaF_FGe3UJm2YExrM_hWbmKqgcxqkasuMmzlHNHpuqDOK8eGrEqzGasgke3P0HgyMbeAhXol92ib1uQpbuoCgjoMZzfxnqh_7m99_6kkJtOuP_GQIXyWqJs8efm_/s1600/WHATEVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUU8ElErPjqeNtTQFZaF_FGe3UJm2YExrM_hWbmKqgcxqkasuMmzlHNHpuqDOK8eGrEqzGasgke3P0HgyMbeAhXol92ib1uQpbuoCgjoMZzfxnqh_7m99_6kkJtOuP_GQIXyWqJs8efm_/s400/WHATEVER.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">The driver hops off to sputter to the camera,
“Yep…I saw Bigfoot, eh? You betcha.” </span><span style="font-size: small;">And what follows is twenty minutes of undiluted Canadian podunk,
as all sorts of folks admit to the camera that they’ve seen Bigfoot. They seem
pretty convinced. Maybe they were local actors. Maybe they were the real thing.
But just when the backwoods kitsch starts to wear thin, the filmstock
changes as Morgan stomps in and hijacks the film with his own bigfoot
expedition. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkJE_cYSWyLiohe_7haVt-r_8AZc6RVKEekeTRBMjMpBz7Xy1t3weVsF1UKRC72X18UZcvqFvBLg79FqKUKAeiZVXeiX9tzJqUBdQmMWLOuzVEDZsiHako3b-Ho7GlHTCcCK60AZ5U-ow/s1600/Morgan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkJE_cYSWyLiohe_7haVt-r_8AZc6RVKEekeTRBMjMpBz7Xy1t3weVsF1UKRC72X18UZcvqFvBLg79FqKUKAeiZVXeiX9tzJqUBdQmMWLOuzVEDZsiHako3b-Ho7GlHTCcCK60AZ5U-ow/s400/Morgan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">A banty Anton LaVey lookalike in Mark Trail gear, Morgan presents himself as a Bigfoot expert, marshals his campus-hippie posse
and sets off in search of the creature. Along the way they encounter a couple of other Bigfoot trackers and debate the ethics of plugging the critter if they see it. It’s actually a decent trial run
for <b>The Blair Witch Project</b>. And there’s a certain “Heart of Darkness” satisfaction in watching Morgan start to come unglued as things get weird.<br /><br />The recreation of the howl of Bigfoot is also really creepy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But Morgan apparently really is a Bigfoot expert. He's been on <b>Coast to Coast</b>. His
character could carry a Hollywood movie. After <b>B:MOB</b>, Morgan kept up his Bigfoot hunting over the next several years,
right up until he stepped behind the camera himself...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Oh, and some <a href="http://72.21.211.176/Citizen-Spy-Vatican-Cover-Up-Money-Laundering/dp/0982720602">spy stuff</a>.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8IVVFMT072VQFZgsVG9Wqs0NREkwThjCz2rzA09t5nFjjytEZtC-p0rnZV2Afvw3NhFu_eWQ-Vhs2TSy4R8RHEF8Yzk02dn0GnU0X94uyDRH5j3LkGScijsTslj_bkmpFax3BCbNU8Yk/s1600/TITLE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8IVVFMT072VQFZgsVG9Wqs0NREkwThjCz2rzA09t5nFjjytEZtC-p0rnZV2Afvw3NhFu_eWQ-Vhs2TSy4R8RHEF8Yzk02dn0GnU0X94uyDRH5j3LkGScijsTslj_bkmpFax3BCbNU8Yk/s400/TITLE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">That's not a promising font.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Blood Stalkers</b> starts off mid-70s enough with a slow-burn
tour of the scenic route, as we’re introduced to our victims by their voiceover
kvetching. They’re in a station wagon bound for a cabin in the woods just
outside Hillbilly Haven. Pop. 32. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8I9oCgogPXhVC1OoccV47OZE9KZU59Zk67BT06REsL9bWasV0os1sZKGccHffV63qE6By8fD161y322C5jAIpeVDPx_hrBKP1LZkwYOXgQenkLwdYWo7QkD63RNrWYZuY7XyakMc5jdhT/s1600/MIKE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8I9oCgogPXhVC1OoccV47OZE9KZU59Zk67BT06REsL9bWasV0os1sZKGccHffV63qE6By8fD161y322C5jAIpeVDPx_hrBKP1LZkwYOXgQenkLwdYWo7QkD63RNrWYZuY7XyakMc5jdhT/s400/MIKE.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">It’s city guy Mike (Ken Miller), his perfect wife
(Toni Crabtree) and their </span><span style="font-size: small;">well-to-do </span><span style="font-size: small;">friends, a clown (Jerry Albert) and a slut (Celea Ann Cole).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTpDF1rbmopBJ_nhNASLaAz3Hw4PyRN_ewhO57ZKe1M1i76pcPSGpB89KroVphUEnlx44OTMExIbP7jE5eT1lORaaofQXZ78ZM1lJBuvweJN0f_eW-v5KMzt-CYmQDKQkkocK1ivCSVzvz/s1600/SPUNK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTpDF1rbmopBJ_nhNASLaAz3Hw4PyRN_ewhO57ZKe1M1i76pcPSGpB89KroVphUEnlx44OTMExIbP7jE5eT1lORaaofQXZ78ZM1lJBuvweJN0f_eW-v5KMzt-CYmQDKQkkocK1ivCSVzvz/s400/SPUNK.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">She’s obviously a slut ‘cause she has
red hair and lots of cleavage. And spunk. And 'cause that clown she's with is sorta...off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At least they’re refreshingly not teenagers. But they act like stupid teens and continue on up to
the cabin, despite the warnings of a creepy old gas station attendant (Herb Goldstein). Tales of
the eponymous creatures that stalk the swamps. Not to mention</span><span style="font-size: small;"> the ominous arrival of his pack of hillbilly
thugs...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWd0QgH92L-jjXYb3Mxcws6_kEFT3aBga0CNuLI-4FjHSTAaUGCx4RfGRcEM3IYvhF38KsXdzQycp_F9izFNjuUXleAwyZ_q9HbHCxoav1ev-wOeYz9dNuFcmh2b09VAnhznroIxgig7E/s1600/MORGAN+AGAIN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWd0QgH92L-jjXYb3Mxcws6_kEFT3aBga0CNuLI-4FjHSTAaUGCx4RfGRcEM3IYvhF38KsXdzQycp_F9izFNjuUXleAwyZ_q9HbHCxoav1ev-wOeYz9dNuFcmh2b09VAnhznroIxgig7E/s400/MORGAN+AGAIN.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Yeah, there's Morgan again. Hillbillies and rich city folk don’t make for a good mixer. But
heigh-ho, it’s on to the cabin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Structurally, <b>Blood Stalker</b> isn’t much more complicated than
a live action <b>Scooby Doo</b>. If Scooby was a ratdog. There’s some skinnydipping, some toasts and then something attacks the cabin.
Something furry, grabby and scary sounding. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And then the ratdog dies...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">...and then...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEemy6UbR3lh1g0ELDHdMu2t82qRTzswxAwhrtrK3n1s5qrjxqLKpi7TPGySDCcansbwabqwi1kV0xjb-cC1Qzt0AC3y-KBYGoFd7X0EGqV7rwQDEYdsbQEyY3IVlDLehlEk15f80Mgfu1/s1600/BIGFOOT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEemy6UbR3lh1g0ELDHdMu2t82qRTzswxAwhrtrK3n1s5qrjxqLKpi7TPGySDCcansbwabqwi1kV0xjb-cC1Qzt0AC3y-KBYGoFd7X0EGqV7rwQDEYdsbQEyY3IVlDLehlEk15f80Mgfu1/s400/BIGFOOT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Holy shit...what the hell is that thing? Oh, and did I mention that
Mike is also a maybe-crazy Vietnam vet? Well, he is…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Blood Stalkers</b> isn’t brilliant. But for a regional flick shot on near nothing, there’s more than enough
on display here than its obscurity warrants. Morgan makes some nice directorial
choices and there’s scattered clever bits, such as a scene involving a mute that's nicely understated comedy, and sets up a callback near the end. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">While some of the drama plays out like a <i>telenova</i> in
70’s drag, there's still well-mounted jump scares and a climax that’s
surprisingly ambitious in its execution; a montage that explodes away from the
rest of the mostly static picture while delivering up the inevitable massacre
with a certain amount of restraint and even dignity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And to give the cast their due, they take the archetypes
they’re handed and do their best to flesh ‘em out. Despite the initial pampered
class-loathing they initially evoke, they </span><span style="font-size: small;">pull
off some nice character moments</span><span style="font-size: small;"> and end up being sort of endearing. It’s a bummer when chips get cashed in. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYHJiU3b1WWDL3iyAwv3v5m4bwtsZJbNxrM3E7QSiB5l7cFKNIpQGfz6g9uUOeWSJDprqpDp6HQaNImx6UouMd6KdasrgHfONs-VLIjawr99s61zRbMXvT-pmdgebvzlQif05fS5eX3lD/s1600/CREEP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYHJiU3b1WWDL3iyAwv3v5m4bwtsZJbNxrM3E7QSiB5l7cFKNIpQGfz6g9uUOeWSJDprqpDp6HQaNImx6UouMd6KdasrgHfONs-VLIjawr99s61zRbMXvT-pmdgebvzlQif05fS5eX3lD/s400/CREEP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And Goldstein as the creepy old gas station attendant just nails it out
of the park*. </span><span style="font-size: small;">A couple of years later <b>Friday the 13th</b> would make this character a trope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This was one well-rehearsed ship. Which is something,
considering the budget. The main players all went on to have a scattering of credits.
Nothing memorable. Morgan shifted his focus to writing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Ultimately, its biggest liability is the soundtrack. While some folks dig the 70s cheese, the climax is seriously undermined with lounge funk when no music or something subtler would have been much more efficient.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I could also call the ultimate denouncement weak, although give
Morgan credit for following through with conviction. It’s a mundane reason for
almost everyone to die. But they’re not in Hollywood. They’re in swampy Florida.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And that’s even worse.<br /><br /><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Although his reaction to dead bodies is...unique.</span></i></span><br />
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</style>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-71237032942968096322012-07-08T12:21:00.001-07:002012-07-08T17:17:50.008-07:00BLACK DEVIL DOLL FROM HELL (1984)<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqg1fCnOGxbA75abbIsP1oEHAH8BZ9ZjAUYfK9v23dpoOj76OxgXsCVOexzc725T31ZkczVqR_hPLEZSvFY3MhZ62VGIgWbW4Q0IKeG79ccCKdYY8mP1BCOqwJtE3AfpxUmfr7xSKULTd/s1600/BlackDevilDollHell(M2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqg1fCnOGxbA75abbIsP1oEHAH8BZ9ZjAUYfK9v23dpoOj76OxgXsCVOexzc725T31ZkczVqR_hPLEZSvFY3MhZ62VGIgWbW4Q0IKeG79ccCKdYY8mP1BCOqwJtE3AfpxUmfr7xSKULTd/s400/BlackDevilDollHell(M2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This just may be the worst
horror film ever unleashed on video. Yes...even worse than <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdBchFDwWY0">MANOS: HANDS OF FATE</a> and maybe even Adam Sandler's <a href="http://www.webdesignshock.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/404web42.jpg">JACK AND JILL</a>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Clumsily shot on a camcorder and obviously edited between two VHS
decks, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rP3la19gtQ">BLACK DEVIL DOLL FROM HELL</a> actually made it to some <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4SLnfMql9L-zhJjgZzZG3WiVEf8k2nEROS8cVprcasuvlctQbxm64KKHN-EffzSSqsCs6pvDWRxaVOCqjQrHoHqxJVj7lgNWjOLP6v5F9AB_0unvoxzsoU9-QgokIpvF9zuMNTljVhg/s1600/blockbuster.jpg">videostore</a> shelves back in the 80s. I
pity the fools that actually rented it and took it home as their solitary entertainment
for the night. <br /><br />
The opening credits seem punched out with a <a href="http://image.rakuten.co.jp/e-office/cabinet/dymo/15447_s.jpg">Dymo</a> gun, set against ragged
blackground with a proto-sludge theme song. </span><span style="font-size: small;">It takes almost seven minutes just to get to Chester N. Turner's director credit, before the movie crawls along for another hour. Including end credits. But it seems much, much longer.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Unfortunately, any promise the theme song offers is replaced by a
Casio-generated soundtrack that’s about as ambitious as alternating notes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The story that follows is just as bad, gawdawful in concept
and even worse in execution…</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx_TF3L-Ro4QZ0jNHIB2HKp6Y6ChrlacMcREn9JbeFQVAHgA4a8XCbXl_RdAWUxx_nOsBqnVU3nA7uJmQBwml2TU983B3Tar9_PFBRA9040sDpCnKBDDoY2_VqrVoMlPZJDyOBPXEXafl/s1600/black-devil-doll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsx_TF3L-Ro4QZ0jNHIB2HKp6Y6ChrlacMcREn9JbeFQVAHgA4a8XCbXl_RdAWUxx_nOsBqnVU3nA7uJmQBwml2TU983B3Tar9_PFBRA9040sDpCnKBDDoY2_VqrVoMlPZJDyOBPXEXafl/s400/black-devil-doll.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0429252/">Shirley Jones</a> (not <a href="http://jaydeanhcr.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/tvmoms_shirley-jones_590x450.jpg?w=450&h=343">that</a> one) plays Helen, a god-fearin’
church lady that — after an interminable amount of churchgoin’ and talkin’ on the
phone about goin’ to church and putterin’ about her lousy house packed with Christian ephemera — picks up a dreadlocked ventriloquist’s dummy
at a knick-knack store run by an obvious hoodoo midget. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The shopkeeper warns
her of…something. Something bad. I think. When she opens her mouth the Casio
soundtrack really starts to squeal. At first it seems like an audio howl, but
eventually it begins to alternate in tone, kind of like music. But not quite.
Since Helen can’t hear the warning over the feedback, she takes the dummy home and
proceeds to prop it up on a toilet so that it can watch her take a shower.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJL-X5dgF8Ats7S9Caj0zT-czCWtl_DUyMNClHa9Hjtu7T5N8BtG8AywTX3eRS5dnOsSUACk8Dyvho2pUoaLNCQfLKcnbXtspIs1Tp80shI56g2YeCaI384t1Z0iWN0y7RKBfJrdKYLhX/s1600/1782453-blackdevildoll7_super.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJL-X5dgF8Ats7S9Caj0zT-czCWtl_DUyMNClHa9Hjtu7T5N8BtG8AywTX3eRS5dnOsSUACk8Dyvho2pUoaLNCQfLKcnbXtspIs1Tp80shI56g2YeCaI384t1Z0iWN0y7RKBfJrdKYLhX/s400/1782453-blackdevildoll7_super.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Let’s just say this…Shirley Jones isn’t someone you’d expect to get naked
and lather up for the camera. And she gets kind of enthusiastic about the
lathering, too…fantasizing about getting some dummy action. Hoo boy. But she gets
non- plussed at the direction her flush is taking her, so she throws her new li'l frien' in the
closet for the night…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">...and wakes up tied to the bedposts as the ol' devil doll (some
unholy mash-up between Rick James and Michael Jackson) crawls up under the
blanket with a “Now that you have smelled the foulness of my breath, you may
now taste the sweetness of my tongue.”</span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />
Yeah. It goes there...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUP8sAP3FN6tBUTY6sZ_37nPs0euKgdayK_RD-tRD6228HumvL1TB2Z7y2oqn8NoK2droiRF5MGZnxaUZCx8t4KSh3KRyQgipF-nV_h5eX6itCBh-uDiC6cl5WR6vqH8FQH4ZLAh6Xy5AP/s1600/tumblr_ktv7sdvG081qauv3bo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUP8sAP3FN6tBUTY6sZ_37nPs0euKgdayK_RD-tRD6228HumvL1TB2Z7y2oqn8NoK2droiRF5MGZnxaUZCx8t4KSh3KRyQgipF-nV_h5eX6itCBh-uDiC6cl5WR6vqH8FQH4ZLAh6Xy5AP/s400/tumblr_ktv7sdvG081qauv3bo1_500.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"> ...and she likes it. Soooooooo, then…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">She wakes up the next morning with the dummy gone and not even a thank-you
note. But Helen's found herself a new religion and tosses bible and <a href="http://scienceblogs.com/insolence/wp-content/blogs.dir/445/files/2012/04/i-fc8968f67cca570c1341ec8f7f0ba94e-1047_17.gif">Chick tracts</a> in the trashcan before trollin’ the neighborhood for some manmeat to fill that void the
dummy has left twixt her nethers. After a couple of awkward couplings, she finds there
ain’t no substitute for the real wood. So to speak. Fortunately she has a
Casio-free flashback from the midget warning her that the devil doll likes
to return to the shop on its own, so…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Yeah. It ends pretty much how you’d expect it to end.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4y7CfWyUDpL8gCRcLN7dH98ddqOz3ZUAwfSGaJkGfgzqkcumbY9xmLRezmlPjZT3u9VSaYujbaqoE5WO82k4kHsaP4wPcGMC_iAHSbHFIKQHGbSAKfgTTNddiU3zUAeQ2HuFDfSFhfgz/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4y7CfWyUDpL8gCRcLN7dH98ddqOz3ZUAwfSGaJkGfgzqkcumbY9xmLRezmlPjZT3u9VSaYujbaqoE5WO82k4kHsaP4wPcGMC_iAHSbHFIKQHGbSAKfgTTNddiU3zUAeQ2HuFDfSFhfgz/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">But I have to hand it to Jones…while not a competent actor she’s at least
committed when it comes down to getting naked and simulating the nasty with a
foul-mouthed ventriloquist’s dummy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I suspect that gutter auteur Chester N.
Turner was just committed. Or should have been.</span>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Although he returned a few years later with the slightly
more watchable* <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAAokKRtGFs">TALES FROM THE QUADEAD ZONE</a>, he‘s kind of disappeared himself.
Rumor has it that he died in a car crash back in the nineties, although one
wouldn’t be faulted for suspecting that he faked his own death to escape
whatever notoriety he’d managed to achieve.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I also suspect that if it weren’t for some dude named David
Ichikawa (who supplies the theme song and is credited with re-editing) this
thing would never have survived until the dawn of the internets. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks, David...I think.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Completely arguable...but Quadead has a legitamate deranged charm to it, sorta like a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrNT-4hXD3w">Daniel Johnston</a> song. It takes some effort to get through, but at least the surrealism seems intentional.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-42965054783234074222012-05-17T22:17:00.000-07:002012-05-17T22:54:38.425-07:00Okay, I'll Cop...<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">...I have to say I like Katy Perry. She’s a nice package and she delivers well. Zooey eyes and ruby lips, swimming in a cascade of black hair. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Here she’s got her sexy techno voice slithering over a throbbing groove</span><span style="font-size: small;">, t</span><span style="font-size: small;">he kind of pop theatre safe enough to allow a mechanic or jock to admit he hates her songs, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAp9BKosZXs&ob=av2n%20">but</a>...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I’m betting her videos get more late night hits from middle-aged men than teenaged girls. Pure flirt porn.<br /><br />I also like Lady GaGa, ‘cause, well...it’s easy to like someone who unleashes firestorms of loathing at the mere drop of her name. Her and Bieber need to hook up. Make some heads pop. She’s doing New York-style <i>avante-garde</i> bubblegum and that shit ain’t easy. But this Kraftwork take on Barbarella is solid operatic bombast disguised as a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrO4YZeyl0I&ob=av2e">pop song</a>. <br /><br />She’s also hot as hell in this video. I don’t care if she’s a dude.<br /><br />And I like Nickleback. Buttrock, Hallelujah. This is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mT7EcNHovJ8&list=UUz8FPpkJMwayyReSDLTX8IQ&index=8&feature=plcp">the bar</a> we wanted to walk into the first time we walked into a bar.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />Admit it...Nickleback is on the verge of coming up hip in an anti-irony sort of way. This is the kind of rock we should be getting these days, sampling from the decades and spitting out a summation. It’s a pure aggression, selling the strutting machismo the prole wishes he could get away with. Hell, I’d be out in the bar throwing back shots with them, myself. If I wasn’t broke. And, y’know...not really into that anymore.<br /><br />But I don’t like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZejMWIdvqI&list=UU62yO9bibPdLm4xw3rJwnYA&index=1&feature=plcp">Creed</a>. Nope.</span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-36890798306835993322012-05-10T23:22:00.001-07:002012-05-10T23:44:23.837-07:00Ebert Still Rawks<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yeah, I'm a film reviewer. Note I say reviewer, not critic. Although I suppose I am. But I don't have the education, resources or drive to consider myself a critic. And calling oneself a film critic is sort of embarrassing anymore. Hard not to be. But I still get paid to watch movies, so suck it.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As an old guy, I'm gonna tell you about a time when you got your reviews from a newspaper and that was pretty much it. Sometimes pterodactyls had something to say, but nothing more. It took as long as the mid-seventies before someone's lightbulb flickered and the reviewer personality was spawned. Siskel and Ebert gave film critics that public face in the transition from print to pixel, warming us up with a literate <i>Front Page</i> verisimilitude. </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But that didn't last long before the field was rushed by the likes of that Hays Code populist, the bitter queen and sad-faced clowns wearing Groucho glasses to be the public perception of film critic at large. Pimped out by Hollywood to sell the product. </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yeah, easy targets. But the old school is pretty fair game these days.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Of course the advent of blogger has pretty much swept up the field and wheeled the trash out to the parking lot. Which might work as a metaphor but doesn't make it all good. As anyone that's done any dumpster diving before can and will tell you, sometimes there's some spectacular finds that make wading through the trash worth it. </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Getting back to Ebert. He's one of the good guys. I wouldn't have thought it at first. He was the fat one who was always getting cut up like a Butterball turkey by the tall, sanguine guy. And he talked smack about <a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19670105/REVIEWS/701050301/1023">Night of the Living Dead</a>. I can put religion aside, though. He also wrote the screenplay for <b>Beyond the Valley of the Dolls</b>. Granted, the screenplay ran 183 pages, but still...Russ Meyer, man. And the script for the Sex Pistols movie. That also makes him a rare critic who isn't a failed screenwriter.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But aside from that he's always been reliable and accessible. No counterpointing the surrealism of the underlying metaphor for him, although you get the vibe he can. Just what he thinks about the film in a way that gives you a vibe he isn't selling product, just sitting across the aisle from you, ready to discuss. He knows his shit, and obviously loves what he's spent his whole life doing. </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Which makes it weird that his only relevance anymore seems to be as a punchline to an ongoing online cancer joke. Mention Ebert and within a few posts some yahoo yells "Free Bird!" Seems weird to have to point this out so far into the 21st century, but it's just really bad form to make fun of someone's misfortune. Unless they earn it. Something really bad is going to happen to everyone at some point, and absolutely no one wants to be heckled about it. Right? </span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But here's the thing...the dude lost his moneymaker and he's still plugging along, still writing. Gone full circle. Obviously he's still making money, but he's making it on his own terms, despite what's been thrown at him. He throws back film festivals and probably loses money.</span><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><br style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That seems like a good life.</span></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-12582272989437198842012-02-18T11:55:00.015-08:002012-02-19T11:16:49.896-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdU4pdyMnve1KgDd2NXSu-gqxisC5I09t1n4YibC3hNjDzwNj8Mw5P_20xUMTeV5LE5Ef9dMAuG8X_nwMxarOTIHM4OhwVzxSMwz4V1lW6cUv1AjtSqekuct5W1l_E3jWnTAqh7cGHSz2D/s1600/HARD+DICK+odh.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 457px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdU4pdyMnve1KgDd2NXSu-gqxisC5I09t1n4YibC3hNjDzwNj8Mw5P_20xUMTeV5LE5Ef9dMAuG8X_nwMxarOTIHM4OhwVzxSMwz4V1lW6cUv1AjtSqekuct5W1l_E3jWnTAqh7cGHSz2D/s400/HARD+DICK+odh.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710573506777050370" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd-T5tNSzMufGk5SeJqCTAcO7g_0xlPbUiq6WRR5_jhneLjtC4mDNoB2x-MEdLrLuwzrR9E4q5LVZPQV9ulefNNawj2wWowbCbJhdcWgLvXlIoSZkah6GqFwcPZ-cZUUY42uINfYUICRaX/s1600/HARD+DICK+web.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/875868061/nick-sledge-isthe-hard-dick">LINK TO PROJECT</a>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-4415315525238426402012-01-22T11:35:00.000-08:002012-01-22T13:44:41.594-08:00<span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.wrongsideoftheart.com/wp-content/gallery/posters-m/monster_and_girl_poster_01.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 563px;" src="http://www.wrongsideoftheart.com/wp-content/gallery/posters-m/monster_and_girl_poster_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's been a couple of dec</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">ades since I've seen this low budget Paramount potboiler, and over the years I remembered it as being pretty deranged...but until a revisit I didn't realize just how brilliant the damned thing really is.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Say, if Quentin Tarantino had directed a movie in 1941, it might look something like this genre-bending lollapalooza.<br /><br />Ostensibly an early-noir courtroom melodrama (with the heroine detailing her abduction into white slavery and ruination), things go literally ape-shit at the halfway mark when mad scientist George Zucco steps in (narratively, from out of nowhere) and...<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMv26IPGnS0&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">...transplants her freshly-executed brother's brain into a gorilla's skull!</a><br style="font-family:verdana;"><br style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Also, keep an eye out for imagery towards the end of the clip that makes this seem as if it were ripped from a Ministry video (circa "<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmISWeC1a8NGvk5BD0dQZxaZJodyEyscVvDjAuFggn8339Xbzv57WlVusLQaVZKzC691GjEXYWWLmR-whlMxV0tLSZoiBlGOIAmwXH5ABWBXM_kj9aBz_YnOwbT9KoocNXnC9mcgVaNj77/s1600/Ministry+-+The+Mind+Is+A+Terrible+Thing+To+Taste.jpg">A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste</a>"). Even the soundtrack fits...and dig that crazy transition to the accordion player!</span><br style="font-family:verdana;"><br style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The thing is, while definitely tongue-in-cheek, the movie still plays its absurd premise straight. Which is probably the reason for its general obscurity* The degradation of its protagonists (Capra-esque wholesomeness being sucked into pre-code seediness) must have been perplexing to the moviegoing public at the time. And although it doesn't overtly dwell on the prostitution aspect, the inherent tone still surprises me that the film made it past the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code">Hays Code</a> scissors.<br /><br />And to a contemporary audience, it's easy to miss the deliberate proto-camp intent of the filmmaker and dismiss it as something akin to PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.</span><br style="font-family:verdana;"><br style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Formerly an editor, this was director Stuart Heisler's second film</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> (after the 1936 obscurity STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER), although he also served as second unit director on John Ford's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hurricane_%281937_film%29">THE HURRICANE</a> in the interim.<br /><br />1941 was a pivotal year for Heisler, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">with the psychological horror of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Among_the_Living_%28film%29">AMONG THE LIVING</a> arriving soon after and an adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Glass_Key_%281942_film%29">THE GLASS KEY</a> following in 1942, establishing him as one of the earliest pioneers of film noir.<br /><br />Heisler's direction here is assured and even meta at times, but the arch send-ups of established genres of the period also reflects the giddiness of a filmmaker </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">still </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">searching for his voice.</span><br style="font-family:verdana;"><br style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">*</span></span><span style="line-height: 100%; font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><i>The movie saw a VHS release as part of the Universal Horror series back in the 90s, but I'm assuming poor sales derailed any hope for a DVD.</i></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-31121646093763487332011-07-15T12:48:00.000-07:002011-07-15T14:40:47.514-07:00Here's THE THING...<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Now, I absolutely love Carpenter's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouZkkIsLiNg"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span></a>. I'm happy to say that I saw it opening weekend back in 1982 and it stands as one of my favorite theater-going experiences. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Not to mention that if you get a bunch of horror geeks in the same room arguing over what the greatest horror film ever made is, <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span> just might win. Well, at least most of the time.<br /><br />Personally, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I rate it as the second greatest horror film in the history of history.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> And no...<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Shining</span> isn't the first.<br /><br />But it seems that there's a bit of a ruckus over </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Universal's</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> upcoming <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsF1miA7T8k">prequel</a> (due October 14th)</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">. Imagine that. A lot of folks have taken to the message boards to air their personal outrage over the studio's audacity in trying to reinfranchise their original investment.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphHq8j_tpCmTmAaxIOqNfIln0k_Gw0sVyP1ukcp2sXGy_R5NMpt2hLzMP4ecZU3nlHlVub5z6WsGJwqiCSSXqP9C739rqR5ed65n4kqFJgqS5lxsd40229EqrhXxmKpf0hrl55U3nmGpZ/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphHq8j_tpCmTmAaxIOqNfIln0k_Gw0sVyP1ukcp2sXGy_R5NMpt2hLzMP4ecZU3nlHlVub5z6WsGJwqiCSSXqP9C739rqR5ed65n4kqFJgqS5lxsd40229EqrhXxmKpf0hrl55U3nmGpZ/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629672112253038258" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">They're howling that Hollywood needs to quit remaking existing properties and invest in new and creative visions. And I usually agree. I can count off </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">on one hand </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">all the successful remakes of great horror films and still have a middle finger left over to acknowledge the rest. But the last time Universal gave someone the funding to create an </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">exciting </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">new monster mythos was...<br /><br />...well, damn. John Carpenter and <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span>. Ouch.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span> is, the movie originally tanked at the box office...three million opening weekend. Yeah, weird to think that most folks seemed to hate the movie when it came out.<br /><br />But here's why I'm not disturbed by this move. Universal has been sitting on this property (let's just step back and admit that Universal is a business, first and foremost) for near thirty years.<br /><br />But over the years, their investment has been re-evaluated by critics and the public and has become one solid property for building a franchise on (now sit back and imagine where solid writers could go with the mythos by <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing IV</span>).<br /><br />So it’s kind of reassuring that they’ve held off as long as they have. But here we go...<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ20h_UecARSKrx5kcmPI9qT_qxE7bstLBqjm6vWnexeuGsQ1BQ86jsYpVSskISB8ebQ10HmbejXmXAjcNoUjk9Pwflh7Ud8Tu2TSmVA5AVPEBqavSFXXjY-o6k1JBeHNsJueWRBiI21Ab/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ20h_UecARSKrx5kcmPI9qT_qxE7bstLBqjm6vWnexeuGsQ1BQ86jsYpVSskISB8ebQ10HmbejXmXAjcNoUjk9Pwflh7Ud8Tu2TSmVA5AVPEBqavSFXXjY-o6k1JBeHNsJueWRBiI21Ab/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629672721586674978" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Rolling into this, they had four options:<br /><br />1. Remake.<br />2. Make a sequel.<br />3. Do a prequel.<br />4. Throw away more money on another attempt at rebooting <a href="http://olddarkhouse.blogspot.com/2010/02/wolfman-2010.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Wolfman</span></a>.<br /><br />We won’t talk about the fourth option.<br /><br />I sort of cringe over the first option, and I’m glad more level-minded folks at Universal felt the same way. Not saying that the studio would have went the <a href="http://www.badassdigest.com/2011/06/07/terror-tuesday-platinum-dunes-is-not-making-horror-films-anymore">Platinum Dunes</a> route (and to Universal's credit they did deliver with the remake of <a href="http://olddarkhouse.blogspot.com/2007/10/dawn-of-dead-2004.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dawn of the Dead</span></a>), but Carpenter’s <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span> was lightning in a bottle. Trying to rehash the same material is setting out with failure as the best case scenario.<br /><br />As for a sequel...seriously, does anyone that loves Carpenter’s movie really want to be told what happened between Mac and Childs? It’s a great ending (although admittedly probably a big reason for its initial failure...that and all the doggy abuse). And a sequel means you have to top everything from the original.<br /><br />So a prequel is the best option, for the fans and for the studio. It can exist as its own entity while leaving Carpenter and writer Bill Lancaster's vision untouched. Essentially, it’s playing around in the same mythos, but doesn’t touch the iconic characters. And if it’s a success, a franchise can be built that continues on without co-opting the Carpenter/Lancaster narrative.<br /><br />Call me naive, but I’m trusting Universal on this one (despite <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Wolfman</span>, which at least was a noble failure). Their track record hasn’t been all that great lately, but I get the vibe that they’re traditionalists. Which is welcome. I'm pretty sure that they're doing everything they can to avoid alienating the fanbase on this one.<br /><br />And as someone that cut their horror teeth on the Universal monster movies of the black n’ white era, that means some- thing to at least me.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm not saying that it's going to be better than Carpenter's version. Because it won't. It won't even be as good.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But at least I get the impression that everyone involved in this project seems to respect the material they're working with. So</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> if it's only half as good as Carpenter's, then it'll be better than most studio horror films. And that right there is something to be excited about.<br /><br />Sad, I know. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Thing</span> is...</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrl98XymJxr04rx3FcywlNmclNQnBvkifwKXrmeoasFVdSptlpmtHi5lS_2e2JxkVNmxeOo_6z6ZWCISaIq2tY0AbSiIE5c3Bgb9gDGYa7-RhVRvgBTixI0Vx8k6ic-3WeZQdKA7OFkzA/s1600/index.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 416px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrl98XymJxr04rx3FcywlNmclNQnBvkifwKXrmeoasFVdSptlpmtHi5lS_2e2JxkVNmxeOo_6z6ZWCISaIq2tY0AbSiIE5c3Bgb9gDGYa7-RhVRvgBTixI0Vx8k6ic-3WeZQdKA7OFkzA/s400/index.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629673538669541730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">...there's still a lot of traditionalists that would argue that Hawks' <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5xcVxkTZzM">version</a> of John W. Campbell's "<a href="http://www.scaryforkids.com/who-goes-there-by-john-w-campbell/">Who Goes There?</a>" is still the best. Go figure.<br /><br /></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-16816291784144216562011-04-07T07:24:00.000-07:002011-04-07T09:12:12.620-07:00SUCKER PUNCH (2011)<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg183bGBzKPGVyCoa9zn_-b0be4aTRsO1nFE4uIhFu3c10XJwszPn4_9pC9KQcoD3GxikkPahQLXLwCvgHN_nBB937dZsUHxfs_oqJrHHotDj8jW2b-4x1E673rV3STeUbo8mNVsIipDNxP/s1600/suckerpunch.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg183bGBzKPGVyCoa9zn_-b0be4aTRsO1nFE4uIhFu3c10XJwszPn4_9pC9KQcoD3GxikkPahQLXLwCvgHN_nBB937dZsUHxfs_oqJrHHotDj8jW2b-4x1E673rV3STeUbo8mNVsIipDNxP/s320/suckerpunch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592865085059638002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Okay, straight up? On the face of it, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Sucker Punch</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> is mostly indefensible. If you want to take it on the surface.</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. I have no problem with strippers packing big guns being used as exclamation points between explosions. I’m still breathing, right? Especially since this doesn’t pretend (too much) to be high art…this is Zack Snyder </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">being given millions of dollars just to unleash his id on the screen.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And apparently, Snyder’s lowbrow id is influenced by a lot of cinematic influences and genres that I happen to enjoy. There isn’t too much story involved here. Just enough to serve as cutscenes that link the video game mayhem that took to calling itself </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Sucker Punch</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33M-o1b7xJuQOnV8leMkEQMNuhzOqMdWFRFedfzYY9C0QWROR24_LmKyECnfBsh77zgQIa2itRT-9P-eGHB3U2euzZLphiccYAa8xfpfhdUYKDvUm-AYA2LILlBJgEoQ_ol4fOZxkvwcs/s1600/Sucker-Punch-SweetPea.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33M-o1b7xJuQOnV8leMkEQMNuhzOqMdWFRFedfzYY9C0QWROR24_LmKyECnfBsh77zgQIa2itRT-9P-eGHB3U2euzZLphiccYAa8xfpfhdUYKDvUm-AYA2LILlBJgEoQ_ol4fOZxkvwcs/s320/Sucker-Punch-SweetPea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592866535768563170" border="0" /></a>So let’s go back in time for the faux noir 1950s. What we have here is a thinly veiled Sailor Moon character (called Baby Doll, because what’s the point of unleashing your id if you’re just gonna try and disguise what makes it tick?) committed to the "Institution For Criminally Insane Girls in Short Skirts and Fishnet" by her evil stepfather, so that he can get his grubbies on her inheritance. And make her take the fall for his pervy deeds which led to the death of her naïf sister.<br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana" class="MsoNormal">All this setup is played out in an opening gambit that is an ambitious exercise in highly stylized melodrama. It plays it well, setting the tone and backstory in broadstrokes that left me curious how the project would have looked if played entirely that way.<br /></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TCdVVhTvR3FGp603yJ6ZYuwHBojqMrz19hDgIs0W5bW9ngvCr2AFMnrp78ctCBupo36K633_pM4VsOdtXivj-iRXGpsfFr0_KJc7HwKNxEGOrrNz1YCJvdiEd2-UXKtPNFURXL5jOtCk/s1600/Jamie-Chung-Sucker-Punch.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TCdVVhTvR3FGp603yJ6ZYuwHBojqMrz19hDgIs0W5bW9ngvCr2AFMnrp78ctCBupo36K633_pM4VsOdtXivj-iRXGpsfFr0_KJc7HwKNxEGOrrNz1YCJvdiEd2-UXKtPNFURXL5jOtCk/s320/Jamie-Chung-Sucker-Punch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592867175329232354" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana" class="MsoNormal">And then…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Well, things happen. Under the threat of impending lobotomy, Baby Doll accesses a part of her brain that allows her to set off in an epic quest to score four items (and an ambiguous fifth) in order to accomplish her mission. Let’s call that mission Freedom. Which serves as an excuse to get Baby Doll and her leggy posse to jump around in all sorts of visually-stunning set-pieces that span time and genre.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So we’ve got some giant stone samurai. A dragon and a B-25 bomber engaged in a dogfight. A trainload of killer robots. Zombie Kraut steampunk soldiers. Exploding zeppelins. And asskicking girls highwire-dancing through fireballs and hails of bullets. And other stuff.</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana">Lots of other stuff.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghKu1Nj0-4umqAFB_-Lidbg-lz-HO50M79-BzqrB0tzG2PNYMDds9pxsFTyD1-E8YE8dF6C-MHsOys6ckFr8TfB3NtynTJryL4kebNqogoYo9K8cEjrtQrgdol9v0-KAnrMV6LSuWtY1Xm/s1600/Jena-Malone-Sucker-Punch.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghKu1Nj0-4umqAFB_-Lidbg-lz-HO50M79-BzqrB0tzG2PNYMDds9pxsFTyD1-E8YE8dF6C-MHsOys6ckFr8TfB3NtynTJryL4kebNqogoYo9K8cEjrtQrgdol9v0-KAnrMV6LSuWtY1Xm/s320/Jena-Malone-Sucker-Punch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592867451487429250" border="0" /></a>Yeah, it’s cosplay wrapped in an 82 million dollar budget, borderline femslash. If you don’t know what cosplay or femslash is, then you probably won’t get <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sucker Punch</span>. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. But it is what it is. This is auteur theory at its most outlandish, one man’s last dip in the slowly draining Hollywood dream pool. No art is created in a vacuum, and Snyder lets all his influences hang out here.</p><p face="verdana" class="MsoNormal">On one level, it can seem like pretty subversive stuff, albeit subverting the subversive. The bevy of beauties are dressed up in fetish fear and put through empowerment moves. It's not entirely clear exactly what Snyder's intent is...on one hand, we get hot chicks lapdancing to his Svengali cackle. On the other, we have Snyder wrapping up his heavy-breathing narrative in such a way that can be read as a two-fisted fuckfinger salute thrown in the face of Hollywood convention. This is one happy ending that takes some serious thought to wrap the head around. If you want to put that much thought into it.<br /></p> <p face="verdana" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvOQTEQm-t9UK3fbNJX7066HREgx11vfw5i2mmUhw_WbH3nFBh2g0VD_qKM8R5wA-Z20P0cw3np-QLBZw6OtLsMqMxZCyBfTrriMnMcVPal-0OQVJm-H4K0ab8dW0KqNqg6yOpek_R1ck/s1600/Vanessa-Hudgens-Sucker-Punch.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvOQTEQm-t9UK3fbNJX7066HREgx11vfw5i2mmUhw_WbH3nFBh2g0VD_qKM8R5wA-Z20P0cw3np-QLBZw6OtLsMqMxZCyBfTrriMnMcVPal-0OQVJm-H4K0ab8dW0KqNqg6yOpek_R1ck/s320/Vanessa-Hudgens-Sucker-Punch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592867905214322978" border="0" /></a>Visually, it taps into the neo-retro stylings of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sin City</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sky Captain</span> and the narrative affectations of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Moulin Rouge</span>. If this sounds like it’d make for a confusing stew, it does. If you give what’s happening onscreen too much thought. If you <span style="font-weight: bold;">do</span> want to think about it, there's plenty of subtext to play around with. It's just not neatly wrapped. Scantily wrapped, to be sure, but with deceptive layers of cartoon paper and strings that lead to weird places.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKvOQTEQm-t9UK3fbNJX7066HREgx11vfw5i2mmUhw_WbH3nFBh2g0VD_qKM8R5wA-Z20P0cw3np-QLBZw6OtLsMqMxZCyBfTrriMnMcVPal-0OQVJm-H4K0ab8dW0KqNqg6yOpek_R1ck/s1600/Vanessa-Hudgens-Sucker-Punch.jpg"></a> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal">But mostly, it’s two hours of letting yourself be strapped to the theatre seat, eyelids pinned back as Herr Doctor Snyder pokes at your lizard brain with a sharp stick. If that sounds sexy, then you can get your money’s worth here.</p>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-16778740808236781312010-04-20T21:31:00.000-07:002010-04-21T02:43:07.190-07:00The One I Might Have Saved...<span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />While I've always wanted to contribute to Arbogast's <a href="http://arbogastonfilm.blogspot.com/2008/04/one-you-might-have-saved.html">"The One You Might Have Saved"</a>, I never got around to it because of the sheer <span style="font-style: italic;">volume</span> of the ones I wanted to save.<br /><br />See, I walk into pretty much every horror film and immediately put my money on the dark horse. Not because I'm fool enough to think that any one of these brunettes will actually make it to the final frames, but because they're the ones I'd <span style="font-style: italic;">like</span> to. They're the ones with moxie, but... <span style="font-style: italic;">sigh</span>.<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">FWIW, I'd love to see the <span style="font-weight: bold;">redhead</span> make it to sunrise, but she is probably more likely to get it first than the brother. There's fool betting, and then there's damn-fool betting.</span></span><br /><br />But for some reason, as a rule the makers of horror films like to play safe and make</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> as the obligatory final girl</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> your bubble-headed-bleach-blonde. One look at that feathered hair and you see a bedroom replete with teddy bears and unicorns and plenty of pink slathering all over her bedroom walls to indicate just who she is.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Keep your hands off, Buster, and keep the conversation light." </span><br /><br />Y'know, the kind of bedroom that the average horror fan wouldn't be allowed in to in the first place (even if they wanted). Well, back in the Eighties. Now, that twinkie probably has Rotten.com bookmarked on her iPad.<br /><br />What?<br /><br />Um... yeah. Where were we? Oh..."The One I Might Have Saved."<br /><br />Let's go in blind (trust me), with what is easily my favorite moment in an otherwise forgettable horror film:<br /><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxyZdq55IpIDTUMPaTuon-Fry9kHFBiO23vMct6RfRLwwShieh7aL4V-MLRtkg8LXGOamO3fizHMT6R1OCxWQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Okay, then.<br /><br />I'll cop here... my two favorite movies have always been <span style="font-weight: bold;">It's a Wonderful Life</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Night of the Living Dead</span>. Seriously. The two kill me every time, in entirely different ways. They're like bookends to what I love about film. Really... it's a race between the two as to which one is darker.<br /><br />So, back in '92 when I caught Jim Wynorski's <span style="font-weight: bold;">976-EVIL 2</span>... let's just say that the above bit just killed me just as well. But it was sort of a bummer, also.<br /><br />Poor, poor Paula (Leslie Ryan). Who after a lot of thought is <span style="font-style: italic;">The One I Might Have Saved</span>.<br /><br />As a horror film fan back in the day when meeting a nice girl with similar un-nice interests was nigh impossible, Paula getting whacked was insult to injury while watching an otherwise interminable slasher film. Not to mention that she was <span style="font-style: italic;">way</span> hotter than the vanilla final girl. So to hell with that popcorn-wielding Barbie, let's shake things up and have this brunette make it to the final stretch!<br /><br />Oh.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Tears up ticket*</span><br /><br />But, hey... it <span style="font-style: italic;">would</span> have made the film more interesting.<br /></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-27203347464273365122010-03-27T02:59:00.000-07:002010-03-27T03:19:13.998-07:00Oh, Snap...<br />Going back to the strange <a href="http://olddarkhouse.blogspot.com/2007/12/mist-chapter-and-reverse.html">fundamentalist</a> aspect of <b>The Mist</b> (strange in that as the Fundie caricature Mrs. Carmody rants about everyone mocking the fundamentalists, the film sets about doing exactly that), I was watching the black-n-white version and caught this moment...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfS1TjfptssghbhBxYVV-FuwbVRI7O5bYC9lxnGCKtopewpp0YMr9-xAjk4qtBGK-XAbavRkJQ6yTc-3d13eOWnh-pa66UtQihaYjQwnhAbrinZ_GJeo3P1Bh4A00StsY5vWNWc5QghQk/s1600/vlcsnap-13261058.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfS1TjfptssghbhBxYVV-FuwbVRI7O5bYC9lxnGCKtopewpp0YMr9-xAjk4qtBGK-XAbavRkJQ6yTc-3d13eOWnh-pa66UtQihaYjQwnhAbrinZ_GJeo3P1Bh4A00StsY5vWNWc5QghQk/s400/vlcsnap-13261058.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453251806219993586" border="0" /></a>Dude goes riding out to meet the Beast, forkin' the Devil's Horns.<br /><br />Okay, then.Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-68738489698495711722010-02-19T11:51:00.000-08:002010-02-19T16:50:51.585-08:00THE WOLFMAN (2010)<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprHXIgmY8s4Moq-AefN8M4o7a7GGPc83xd4i2B18PjkHr2Xrdf3eGaQSxQH4aDANgfSybQuvXFKHRFL1ACUo1gnfeODCAbmE1XHO1Ij8J-YMxOjG5OZkuL36nnbaxaLhEJtlb5oHAGGaJ/s1600-h/600full-the-wolf-man-poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 158px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprHXIgmY8s4Moq-AefN8M4o7a7GGPc83xd4i2B18PjkHr2Xrdf3eGaQSxQH4aDANgfSybQuvXFKHRFL1ACUo1gnfeODCAbmE1XHO1Ij8J-YMxOjG5OZkuL36nnbaxaLhEJtlb5oHAGGaJ/s320/600full-the-wolf-man-poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440085775705157570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright."</span><br /><br />Evoking the classic line from the 1941 Lon Chaney, Jr. vehicle <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Wolf Man</span>, Universal attempts to jumpstart another franchise from its early 20th century monster stable.<br /><br />Unfortunately, while the attempt to resurrect the Goth beauty of the old school Universal output is welcome, the end result is a flat-looking mess, handicapped by 21st century ADD writing and bad pop psychology.<br /><br />Interrupting his run as Hamlet on the international stage, 19th century prodigal son Lawrence Talbot (Benicio del Toro) returns home to the English familial estate after his brother's gruesome death, to find the marble floors adrift with dead leaves and the staircase all cobwebby.<br /><br />Spooky, right?<br /><br />Almost as spooky as Sir Anthony Hopkins waddling down the stairs with a double-barreled shotgun to welcome his son home. "Welcome" being subjective, seeing how it's Hopkins and even when he's playing a nice guy, Hopkins is always packing a secret. Due to clumsy foreshadowing, it's pretty obvious early on what his secret is (believe it or not, it involves Gollum).<br /><br />Papa Talbot also has a righthand man, a Sikh cleverly named Singh. In addition to being a pisspoor handyman (seeing that he only gets called to duty once a month, would it kill him to rake the floors or dust the bannisters?), Singh's only narrative purpose is to pull a Scatman Crothers and provide some weaponry for the third act before he dies. He's also pretty sad with the aphorisms:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Sometimes you chase the monster...<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4ICsoSGWFHCw7hYkZbTsg4eAlr5KC1H70gGVMZfOcgY_KZe2SYejXe8_kjRZ17r-myI9GLpa3a6shNoyLOgD6KSt-MRJEfxf_91u67BJgzlY663i-YBLitjoAtfNThs33dJX4shL4J0E/s1600-h/WolfMan06.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY4ICsoSGWFHCw7hYkZbTsg4eAlr5KC1H70gGVMZfOcgY_KZe2SYejXe8_kjRZ17r-myI9GLpa3a6shNoyLOgD6KSt-MRJEfxf_91u67BJgzlY663i-YBLitjoAtfNThs33dJX4shL4J0E/s400/WolfMan06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440099223595836002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">...sometimes the monster chases you."<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Eventually (a fairly long eventually) Larry gets bit by a werewolf and starts loping around the foggy moors ripping villager’s lungs out. Blood-spattered Jane Austin posturing for the Emily the Strange crowd ensues. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's supposed to be a pretty basic story, right? </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Unfortunately, here the basic is spread out to make things complicated for no other reason to make things complicated, but without the narrative chops to make the complications add up reasonably. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />At times, it seems like the money shots for the trailer were written first, with the rest of the script thrown in as an afterthought. Any potential twist is telegraphed clumsily. Tone-deaf (and often laughable) dialogue is spouted by a dead-eyed cast that seems more eager to hit the craft table than to show any craft in front of the camera. An extended dream sequence is straight out of "Horror Filmmaking for Hacks." </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Plot threads are introduced abruptly, then left dangling. In this run at the mythos, the gypsies serve no other purpose than to run </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">around </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">screaming and dying during the first werewolf attack. Eventually, Maleva shows up to offer some obvious advice, but nothing useful. Although I do get the vibe that the old gypsy was Larry's grandmother. But if so, it's another complication that got lost in the revisions and that's pretty much it for the Gypsies.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7vnMdd6nZf5zec6XIzMAx8MIWaqXWQ2CSziCidM68uglW6OI181QoVvCnOlM5093ZjtqsiZn_rW2A130fl-waX-q54mKhzxEsdp2WAhcVQWV3_Jhq1G9cq1oRYnDJ4iEDTRkSK-Aj_vT/s1600-h/wolfmanreview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7vnMdd6nZf5zec6XIzMAx8MIWaqXWQ2CSziCidM68uglW6OI181QoVvCnOlM5093ZjtqsiZn_rW2A130fl-waX-q54mKhzxEsdp2WAhcVQWV3_Jhq1G9cq1oRYnDJ4iEDTRkSK-Aj_vT/s400/wolfmanreview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440094806313165490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Then an abrupt detour to London is thrown in for no other reason than to have an American werewolf in London ride a gargoyle. Wait a minute... they've got gargoyles in London? No matter, 'cause after tearing up some CGI London, it's a long walk for Larry back to the estate for a Hulka-mania WWF climax that reads WTF rather than thrilling. Even the werewolf's howl is sad and pathetic, seemingly provided by some intern imitating Warren Zevon.<br /><br />But, hey... del Toro's hair is perfect.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wM5YpdXlijJ21Cn0GRFUe3ONvRFJWRI8A_3HKo0AQpfQgmtKBFFJVFpOzWqzHfpWrCxB3NEl82uwhB2ty2pljmg7H9Hd4mQ80QBU6ZbhTJ4PK3TPoUiPL1YNTSS9WfBbGqkmBj7D7gA7/s1600-h/2365_D060_00044.preview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wM5YpdXlijJ21Cn0GRFUe3ONvRFJWRI8A_3HKo0AQpfQgmtKBFFJVFpOzWqzHfpWrCxB3NEl82uwhB2ty2pljmg7H9Hd4mQ80QBU6ZbhTJ4PK3TPoUiPL1YNTSS9WfBbGqkmBj7D7gA7/s200/2365_D060_00044.preview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440096606043421778" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Part of the disassociation also comes from the lack of empathy del Toro evokes. The brooding bundle of resentment doesn't come across as pure in heart from the moment he rolls into the picture. He's lusting after his dead brother's fiancée Gwen (Emily Blunt) almost from the get-go... and the implication is that it's because she looks like his dead mother.<br /><br />Okay, then.<br /><br />Meanwhile, after being bitten Larry spends a month in a coma so's not to interrupt the proceedings with something as boring as showing why Larry and Gwen actually fall in love with each other. Or at least in like enough to explain how he knows where she lives in London. As it is, Larry just spends the course of the movie looking only like he's torn between wanting to fuck her or eat her. Like I said, they try to make it more complicated than it needs to be, while losing the tragedy of the original:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Even a man who is pure in heart…”</span><br /><br />The prosthetic effects and bloody mayhem is solid, though. Credit master monster maker Rick Baker there. But not solid enough to sit through the movie to experience, although there’s an unintentional camp aspect to the mayhem, at odds with the retro tone of the rest of the movie. Aside from Baker's effects work, there is absolutely nothing to recommend this generally boring misfire.<br /><br />It's a wannabe Tim Burton period piece without the Goth feyness, attention to detail or even a noticeable understanding of the source material.</span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-85477288821089928732010-01-27T21:26:00.001-08:002010-01-28T11:26:29.277-08:00Y'know... I Love This Photo<span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />When dealing with the 'net, I have hundreds of graphics thrown at me daily in a never-ending cycle. I see more goddamned cats from behind my desk than I do on the streets.<br /><br />But a few times a year, I'm impressed enough with an image that jumps up in my face that I have to drop it into my own personal gallery. This is my first of the year:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-IbT5ZXjVSefJ9XxwpG4TeDfCM6dZ80HiPyWXejtsFgDVYrFI8301A9aNKm3BgRN0AeuuIAWM8xADc6Kim85BfvZaKC5Tr8AlZrls1_bwWzuoQybpQvyNow-ctYllxL-lV44dDRwEqtS/s1600-h/ZOMBIE+GIRL.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-IbT5ZXjVSefJ9XxwpG4TeDfCM6dZ80HiPyWXejtsFgDVYrFI8301A9aNKm3BgRN0AeuuIAWM8xADc6Kim85BfvZaKC5Tr8AlZrls1_bwWzuoQybpQvyNow-ctYllxL-lV44dDRwEqtS/s400/ZOMBIE+GIRL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431659431081777538" border="0" /></a>Well, yeah... she's hot. I'll cop, that's generally a recurring motif with the grabs I save. But there's also the lack of context... who is she? What was the project or event? When?<br /><br />Without context, the anonymous graphic invites creating the context. Whoever she is seems to be looking at the director, (in whatever context that may be) and her mouth, her hands seem to be saying, "I can't <span style="font-style: italic;">believe</span> I'm doing this..."<br /><br />But her eye, so vivid and alive, seems to be saying, "... but I love you."<br /></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-22005444339286485452010-01-27T18:00:00.001-08:002010-01-27T21:20:30.889-08:00THE BOOK OF ELI (2010)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMpKFWIMI_-v5YKmEgKbaaGO0wIr_MNkj-6JZVqMn9BHrZpZttk88a9QDXHmRqRFVPioTn_bCkcVJGBqzPz81VZifpo5posZ0kB7LMZlMFLnBFSMP9DrKr4F7f9GoUzPIIgsgVmWV8-eW/s1600-h/ELI+IS+COMING.jpg"><br /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia,serif;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMpKFWIMI_-v5YKmEgKbaaGO0wIr_MNkj-6JZVqMn9BHrZpZttk88a9QDXHmRqRFVPioTn_bCkcVJGBqzPz81VZifpo5posZ0kB7LMZlMFLnBFSMP9DrKr4F7f9GoUzPIIgsgVmWV8-eW/s1600-h/ELI+IS+COMING.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMpKFWIMI_-v5YKmEgKbaaGO0wIr_MNkj-6JZVqMn9BHrZpZttk88a9QDXHmRqRFVPioTn_bCkcVJGBqzPz81VZifpo5posZ0kB7LMZlMFLnBFSMP9DrKr4F7f9GoUzPIIgsgVmWV8-eW/s320/ELI+IS+COMING.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431608781269182658" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></span>The world is having a bad day. It’s been having the same bad day since nigh on 30 years before, when some folks got into an argument about religion. One thing led to another, the sky was opened and the sun was let in at maximum volume. Now America looks like an Aussie post-apocalyptic movie from the 80s, just with more money tossed at it. And a li'l Segio Leone thrown in for spice.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It’s like <b>The Road</b>, but with more warm ’n’ fuzzy. Which ain’t saying much. Motorcycle gangs are still raping and murdering for entertainment, and some folks are eating other folks. Others occupy their time maintaining battlewagons bristling with ghetto armor. No one rides a bicycle. Even in the post-apocalypse, everyone seems to think that bikes are silly. Silly America. So everyone else just huddles in the doorways of ruined buildings looking miserable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Like this review, <b>The Book of Eli</b> takes way too much time getting around to the story. The story here is that we've got ourselves some desert despot who wants some wandering dude’s Bible. Dude’s name is Eli, and he doesn’t want to hand it over. It’s <i>his</i> Bible. Granted, after the war everyone left who wasn’t blinded by the sun gathered up all the Bibles and burned them, so Eli’s Bible is the only one left. Seems pretty selfish to keep the only copy of The Word to oneself and not spread it, but that’s just the kind of guy Eli is. He’s also the kind of guy who can filet a room full of hard cases with only his bad-assed self and one nasty-looking sword. </span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRlyjuuHY0tkdltSj6WP_Y7zaZXSyljLNy9HRhoNH31KOmOrZBoYeQzjnifALSlqMH5ppIskLhM3XBYLXg321E46lx2Ie6Oh5L3DPSt4LvjpaHS2x6Xt_Bk3jP-sgofxUE0BZQaHx2uBqJ/s1600-h/ELI.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRlyjuuHY0tkdltSj6WP_Y7zaZXSyljLNy9HRhoNH31KOmOrZBoYeQzjnifALSlqMH5ppIskLhM3XBYLXg321E46lx2Ie6Oh5L3DPSt4LvjpaHS2x6Xt_Bk3jP-sgofxUE0BZQaHx2uBqJ/s400/ELI.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431605758008906994" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;">He’s a polite sort, though, when he’s not killing people over his Bible. Eli’s played by Denzel Washington, so you know he’s a nice guy at heart. And the despot is played by Gary Oldman, who's introduced reading a biography of Mussolini, just so you know what </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;"><i>he's</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;"> all about. Which means plenty of scenery chewing until he gets his hands on that Bible. And being Oldman, his plans aren’t nice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But mostly Eli walks. Walks, walks and walks. It takes fifteen minutes for Eli just to wander up to the story, moving in slow motion and with high-end music soaring. After the story gets rolling, sometimes people get in his way and asses get kicked. Despite that, there isn't any real conflict. Sure, people keep trying to take Eli's book away from him and he keeps messing their shit up for trying, but... it's a book. Yeah, a very rare one, and with some amount of power. But it's a book. And as the big, goofy reveal shows...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">HEY, SPOILER:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><i>... not one worth dying over. Actually, since he had it memorized all along, it was really, really stupid to die over it. And the bit about him actually being blind entered everything into unnecessary silliness. Served absolutely no purpose. Didn't mesh with what came before, either. Not very New Testament either, when you get down to it. No turning the other cheek and blessed peacemakers in Eli's book. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana,serif;">SPOILER OVER, OKAY?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">... and then the story is over, too. Well, sorta. After that the movie keeps wandering along with a voiceover that explains everything to the slower members of the audience.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It’s a nice-looking picture, though. In an aggressively ugly sort of way. Sort of like a spaghetti western with too much sauce. The movie almost seems to be embarrassed to be revolving around a pedestrian Mad Max with a Bible. Or maybe the directors were trying to make the padding look good.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">What with the big reveal at the end, and trimmed down to an hour, the film'd feel right at home as one of those old hour-long episodes of <i>The Twilight Zone</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div></div>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-55445524105239673102010-01-25T19:54:00.000-08:002010-01-25T20:16:21.448-08:00DAYBREAKERS (2009)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKBAVW8ULpZycUsCjYw1lPa_z4IlaXY4INEj7N8KD8bId4vVlo2wwqFbN9WkktOPLu5WZxwSnjHmv2V5g46uw26-UIpnCKuVCPAh8k7xhFSFqJoIyQ8KmVeyOEhtSCTIjLIElYwm_B8wO/s1600-h/daybreakers_teaserposter_m.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKBAVW8ULpZycUsCjYw1lPa_z4IlaXY4INEj7N8KD8bId4vVlo2wwqFbN9WkktOPLu5WZxwSnjHmv2V5g46uw26-UIpnCKuVCPAh8k7xhFSFqJoIyQ8KmVeyOEhtSCTIjLIElYwm_B8wO/s1600-h/daybreakers_teaserposter_m.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKBAVW8ULpZycUsCjYw1lPa_z4IlaXY4INEj7N8KD8bId4vVlo2wwqFbN9WkktOPLu5WZxwSnjHmv2V5g46uw26-UIpnCKuVCPAh8k7xhFSFqJoIyQ8KmVeyOEhtSCTIjLIElYwm_B8wO/s400/daybreakers_teaserposter_m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430897269246217922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Welcome to the world of 2019, where the day-to-day has become the night-to-night after a vampire plague has turned most of humanity into vampires. The good news is that oil doesn't seem all that important anymore. The bad news is that human blood is the new oil, with fresh supplies dwindling rapidly. But a dour, chain-smoking Hematologist (Ethan Hawke) is on the game, looking for an alternative for a multinational blood chain. Thing is, he's looking into a cure, and that's not in the interest of the corporation's bottom line. Sociopolitical satire and sporadic action sequences ensue.<br /><br />Which is all well and fine, but as such <span style="font-weight: bold;">Daybreakers</span> falls into the inherent weakness of the vampire genre. Too much time spent with the monster morosely waxing existential. Not much <span style="font-style: italic;">joy de morte</span>. Too much telling, not showing. The moments when Willem Dafoe shows up to chew the scenery infuses a li'l hot blood into the proceedings, but feels like they belong in another picture. Like he wandered in off a D2DVD sequel to <span style="font-weight: bold;">John Carpenter's Vampires</span>.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYyOLWF8X-3f2Q68QZh0IL5VmfPn3wgUP5iZNp8clKlQU-bu-PBLDIM_HzRxn5mYnjOaI_kNMTu4bz4t7bgXFPf0So0zlakWmNFtG_Am3P1RU2UtvIVjPtN6dHA_VvmbydmuGku9kJOCO/s1600-h/daybreak_io9flv.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYyOLWF8X-3f2Q68QZh0IL5VmfPn3wgUP5iZNp8clKlQU-bu-PBLDIM_HzRxn5mYnjOaI_kNMTu4bz4t7bgXFPf0So0zlakWmNFtG_Am3P1RU2UtvIVjPtN6dHA_VvmbydmuGku9kJOCO/s400/daybreak_io9flv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430896630808182194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Daybreakers</span> never really settles on exactly what kind of horror film it wants to be. Is it a dark comedy, a bloody actioner or heavy-handed sociopolitical allegory? Even Romero can't pull off the latter anymore, and he's an old hand. And while Tarantino may pull off mash-ups, he's spent an inordinate amount of time getting it down. The brothers Spierigs are pups, and don't have the chops yet to try and tackle such a difficult stunt.<br /><br />What I enjoyed most about the Brothers Spierig's debut zombie slapstick debut <span style="font-weight: bold;">Undead</span> was their obvious exhilaration in making a movie without any money, a roll-up-the-sleeves and bark-the-knuckles in a Aussie "get-er-done" delirium. None of that energy seems to be on display with <span style="font-weight: bold;">Daybreakers</span>, as if being handed a real budget has sapped their creative spunk. Or worse, exacerbated the creativity to the point that they try to pack two or three movies worth of ideas into one, without having the discipline (yet) to make it cohesive.<br /><br />Ultimately I found <span style="font-weight: bold;">Daybreakers</span> to be no fun. It was sloppily written, a barely connected series of vignettes rather than a cohesive narrative. Subplots are introduced and left mostly unexplored, or resolved abruptly. What should be left as subtext is made overt through dialogue.<br /><br />But it's not a horrible entry, and the political cartoon aspect might be fun for budding anarchists. And I do respect that it's more ambitious than most American genre multiplex filler.<br /></span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-19463483113315741072009-11-11T12:01:00.000-08:002009-11-15T16:40:17.018-08:00PARANORMAL ACTIVITY (2009)<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEJUvzjUeU23n3uZxVMcZW2VmnjNUQx1caww_M2bEQf4Z1hOUrfRRyOJZ0T9UOJaJp3vUSvFhVj8EX5T_V6VfVybRQwawuDavMktV7hsWsXbqqqjq9vJUm-nBeqLQFNfsCYadpsFwPtww/s1600-h/paranormal-activity-movie-poster1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEJUvzjUeU23n3uZxVMcZW2VmnjNUQx1caww_M2bEQf4Z1hOUrfRRyOJZ0T9UOJaJp3vUSvFhVj8EX5T_V6VfVybRQwawuDavMktV7hsWsXbqqqjq9vJUm-nBeqLQFNfsCYadpsFwPtww/s320/paranormal-activity-movie-poster1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402949625390346130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Like <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Blair Witch Project</span> before it, the dark horrors of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Paranormal Activity</span> comes packaged with way too much hype to live up to. And by the same measure, if you didn't like the former, you probably won't like the latter. If there wasn't already a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Blair Witch 2</span>, the </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">video vérité</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Paranormal Activity</span> would comfortably serve as a long-delayed sequel.<br /><br />Substituting a nice, upscale apartment for the boonies, here we join a young couple as they try to cope with an escalating amount of the eponymous problem. Setting up a video cam to record their bedroom at night, on reviewing the footage each morning they are disturbed to find that the uglies being bumped in the room aren't typical of your average bedroom... that is, any bedroom north of Hell. Occasionally, someone drops by to tell them to get out. They don't, of course.<br /><br />Unfortunately, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Paranormal Activity</span> doesn't deliver on much more than its creepy premise. There's a whole lot of daytime jibber jabber recorded with the shaky-cam, interspersed with brief moments of nighttime goosebumps. Rinse, lather. repeat. Despite the ballyhoo, it's not all that and it's short a bag of chips, ending just when things start to get interesting. Fortunately, if you don't like the ending, there's a couple of <a href="http://www.disclose.tv/action/viewvideo/32196/Paranormal_Activity___Alternate_Ending/">other</a> choices available online.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">That said, I prefer the theatrical ending over the other options:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;">SPOILER:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;">Don't know if it was the filmmakers' intent, but I liked the suspicion that the girl was out there looking for a new boyfriend... and that there might be some ex'd out exes in her past.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;">Oddly enough, also was wondering if she had a preference for Jewish boyfriends, and that if she were to settle down with a nice Christian goy, that her demon might lighten up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-style: italic;">That's sort of a joke. But still... the bloody cross implied Christian-based demon.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">END SPOILER</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Not saying that it's bad, just that the movie seems like it would be more effective on home viewing, on the couch with someone you've been dating only a short time, curled up under a blanket with nothing on except the television as the dark house creaks ominously.<br /><br />It's too small a movie to fit on the big screen. Still, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">while I wasn't all that satisfied with the movie, I'm still 100% stoked that a li'l $11,000 movie kicked the SAW franchise in the nuts. Go Team DIY!</span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-86375345449021471512009-11-07T14:01:00.000-08:002009-11-07T22:27:00.949-08:00COLIN (2008)<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qeNSrnQzrZJhEzZrfFvsT1UmR2HdWttKsAy3Rv_KPlWlHOT4c2n0hJHL0z7DXgU4MaIyneHYA9Dat0FBlOIwgLm-4lh_2beEdVu4u3siRctVwasgGXdMRT6MkmQ3a6ydvtFMlQpZLSfm/s1600-h/colin+poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qeNSrnQzrZJhEzZrfFvsT1UmR2HdWttKsAy3Rv_KPlWlHOT4c2n0hJHL0z7DXgU4MaIyneHYA9Dat0FBlOIwgLm-4lh_2beEdVu4u3siRctVwasgGXdMRT6MkmQ3a6ydvtFMlQpZLSfm/s200/colin+poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401485698037150178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" >In the eternal debate on Shamblers versus Sprinters, it’s nice to see a new zombie film take the side of the Shamblers and put up one damned fine pro argument. Although the Brit DIY entry <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1278322/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</span></a> starts off on a slo-burn, about a half-hour in it kicks into an extended set-piece involving a zombie attack on what seems to be a sorority house that proves that although they’re all slow and messed up, the sheer numbers of the Shamblers are what’s gonna get you in the end. And front. And whatever piece of flesh they can latch on to and sink their teeth into.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">While there are plenty of other reasons to recommend </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Colin</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">, this setpiece is probably one of the most well-crafted portrayals of zombie mass attack in recent memory. There’s a 70s vibe to the scene, with a grainy, near-fetish aspect to the girls (and a couple of dorky dudes) putting up their last stand, armed only with pots and pans, an umbrella and whatever else solid is on hand.</span><br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Gy_eJVOju9uwyoUbtln_-1aSM6gBr1_bcx9RYV7bDbBr9hz_Yn4JWATNmhccaWEijQaxO7uEEvsuVLVPNfpO8_xYGXxLVyjYsLz2-2x4KXgE3W3bhmHzmATQnVOOdWVlAyS7i9MzW_aD/s1600-h/vlcsnap-10193941.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Gy_eJVOju9uwyoUbtln_-1aSM6gBr1_bcx9RYV7bDbBr9hz_Yn4JWATNmhccaWEijQaxO7uEEvsuVLVPNfpO8_xYGXxLVyjYsLz2-2x4KXgE3W3bhmHzmATQnVOOdWVlAyS7i9MzW_aD/s400/vlcsnap-10193941.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401496353088480562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">The five-minute setpiece taps into the creeping dread that used to be the benchmark of the genre, the futility of fighting off the undead masses only to inevitably sink beneath their weight, to be torn apart slowly… slowly… slowly. The scene seems to go on forever, in a good way. It’s refreshing to find a filmmaker that still cares about the potential of the genre, as with the main- streaming of zombies we end up with Hollywood churning out buddy movies clad in zombie rags.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Rewind.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">If you’ve heard of Marc Price’s 2009 Cannes sensation (now on DVD), it probably came hag-ridden with the hype that it was the zombie flick that was shot on video for £45 (US$75). Ultimately, the ballyhoo does Price’s film more than a disservice than just serving as good publicity. Because seriously, how many non-filmmakers are gonna be tempted to buy or rent a DIY project that they hear cost less than a keg of Guinness to shoot? Putting aside that, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Colin</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> is a solid entry in the genre that should be approached with what it has to offer, rather than how much it cost to make.</span><br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqQjIm6EYZC16KxwQywefWz4kzWjCbZPDw2fcpH9cRScEUkev31rBhSYCLL5JMTzXXsDM4J9Cf33SejOR_P6M6JLGhyphenhyphenVS_qoFmFvSmNP3mFJg5dDPZe9nGUzgV8bCkqzf1rTk-JDCbdZM/s1600-h/vlcsnap-10199897.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqQjIm6EYZC16KxwQywefWz4kzWjCbZPDw2fcpH9cRScEUkev31rBhSYCLL5JMTzXXsDM4J9Cf33SejOR_P6M6JLGhyphenhyphenVS_qoFmFvSmNP3mFJg5dDPZe9nGUzgV8bCkqzf1rTk-JDCbdZM/s400/vlcsnap-10199897.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401495968976790402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Taking up the POV of the eponymous character, we follow Colin as he drops by friend Damien’s flat to wash off some blood. Outside, the zombie apocalypse rages, the popcorn rattle of a pitched battle as unseen forces try to put down the uprising. Colin’s bad day gets worse as he’s jumped by the erstwhile friend and has to put Damien down. <br /><br />Unfortunately, Colin’s bleeding out himself… and soon wakes up dead. And so it goes, as the living dead boy shambles to Point A to B to see what’s on the London streets for him to eat. Like I mentioned, the first half-hour takes some investment to immerse oneself in. Shot on a handheld <a href="http://www.cnet.com.au/panasonic-nv-gs250-240053888.htm">Panasonic NV GS250</a>, the motion sickness-inducing cinematography might be a chore for anyone that can’t abide the shaky-cam ethos. But the fact that Price pulled a solid-looking shoot out of a $1,300 consumer cam (and edited the material on Adobe Premiere) is pretty damned impressive in itself… but it’s what he does with the material that is outstanding.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIuS0lYfL-7gccW-9TVR8dYE3g9uCuzPa_Zc56-tP14etz0W0M8RURS0QWF5H7pD69e2JGHdsVl4tfJWQwwglwfNZy4lh8hEt5TSgJO9_igJCufGqRywV1UMov5leoBGK0zhQqUzAkMRy7/s1600-h/vlcsnap-10210169.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIuS0lYfL-7gccW-9TVR8dYE3g9uCuzPa_Zc56-tP14etz0W0M8RURS0QWF5H7pD69e2JGHdsVl4tfJWQwwglwfNZy4lh8hEt5TSgJO9_igJCufGqRywV1UMov5leoBGK0zhQqUzAkMRy7/s400/vlcsnap-10210169.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401499153557367378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">The performances are surprisingly subdued for the material, and assayed by actors that evoke an instant empathy from the viewer. Which is an accomplishment in itself, and necessary. The living only get a few moments here, and for the material to work we need to be pulling for them the moment they step into the frame. The actors pull it off.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">There’s a lot of thought on display in <span style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</span>, playing almost like a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hal_Hartley">Hal Hartley</a> take on the genre. It approaches the scenario on a more existential level, keeping an eye out for the more mundane aspects of life among the dead. One survivor takes momentary refuge in her bedroom, the walls lined with DVDs. One assumes that the bulk of them are horror, gauging from the ironic mien of the girl. Her back to the door, it begins to rattle.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirQHx6GWIodlPfk1BpgM3W-JWpVTWqhpUzzT0LPciaywv0TALKtUnVDklKKz0_ScrIIIMQqrYB9GV9WO99kvS0tqkQ5lVjma6vxe8Fnjd9pGcx7ENGkkt3pwic6h0Wa-oIAMraL7ruLeg/s1600-h/vlcsnap-10237849.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiirQHx6GWIodlPfk1BpgM3W-JWpVTWqhpUzzT0LPciaywv0TALKtUnVDklKKz0_ScrIIIMQqrYB9GV9WO99kvS0tqkQ5lVjma6vxe8Fnjd9pGcx7ENGkkt3pwic6h0Wa-oIAMraL7ruLeg/s400/vlcsnap-10237849.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401511113173219826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">“They’re coming to get you, Barbra.”</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Throughout, the British stiff upper lip is on display as the living acclimate to dodging the Shamblers. It’s obviously a losing battle, but they’re not going down without a fight. Not having access to the arms caches like their American counterparts, bricks and clubs, pipebombs and even slingshots are used to put down the dead. It’s ugly and generally futile, as Colin (and the other Zeds) abide. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Even most of the deaths ring realistic, as one-by-one the living are inexorably tracked down and cornered, dying with clumsy flailing, whines and moans in lieu of a Wilhelm scream.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />But <span style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</span> isn't all grim nihilism and grody gore effects... also apparent is the British appreciation for absurdity. While not as overt as <span style="font-weight: bold;">Shaun of the Dead</span>, there's still some chuckles to be found here, even after death. Fortunately (for the tone of the piece), the humor is situational and not at the expense of the zombies... no Romero-esque clowns staggering around, here. Ironically, while there's plenty of nods to Romero on display, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</span> feels more like a Romero film than the man himself has managed of late.<br /><br />It's one very working class zombie film, evoking Romero in his <span style="font-weight: bold;">Martin</span> period.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpr5E4-NXDJWIOztP7iW1eFPOg28wJ3bRFabzZ3GeYiuZ3Y5wRcEBqJ8Uh35OMU85ZqxMShbu-oxtXN9_RyK-l-yASRRqfcbkfGtzmtEW6qhuR2Twf1fQ6OGT_7tHxAn0jEeuFeO_c4bZ/s1600-h/vlcsnap-10195393.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpr5E4-NXDJWIOztP7iW1eFPOg28wJ3bRFabzZ3GeYiuZ3Y5wRcEBqJ8Uh35OMU85ZqxMShbu-oxtXN9_RyK-l-yASRRqfcbkfGtzmtEW6qhuR2Twf1fQ6OGT_7tHxAn0jEeuFeO_c4bZ/s400/vlcsnap-10195393.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401496890618576818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">Not to say that the DIY aspect doesn’t show its duct tape on occasion. There’s one set-piece involving the sole survivor of sorority death row that is so dark, it’s hard to make heads or tails of exactly what the hell is going down until it’s done.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But otherwise there’s so much loving detail that even the weaknesses seem organic, and enough grace notes that it’d be a crime if <span style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</span> doesn’t find its audience down the road. Right now it’s only available on DVD in Britain, but hopefully an American distributor picks it up Stateside.</span>Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-25394006833545855602009-10-14T14:47:00.000-07:002014-02-06T10:11:50.317-08:00Zombieland<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIHqJW3neGJSshJm2VCa2Kv5NdyWZo9Kp6DLO17AzGDTj-1Tp0dAZSVvufJbXr5XaIPoP0es7QeyRdGwosqqSWz1WJOJvHCJWKKGvgUsOgZCwKQJYmo3CyWAqKS6o1A1czEyjsUnRkRY1/s1600-h/zombieland.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIHqJW3neGJSshJm2VCa2Kv5NdyWZo9Kp6DLO17AzGDTj-1Tp0dAZSVvufJbXr5XaIPoP0es7QeyRdGwosqqSWz1WJOJvHCJWKKGvgUsOgZCwKQJYmo3CyWAqKS6o1A1czEyjsUnRkRY1/s320/zombieland.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392577385142079298" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 233px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 216px;" /></a>I suppose <span style="font-weight: bold;">Zombieland</span> is okay for a pilot for TV series that somehow made it to the big screen. Unfortunately, the flick never outgrows its made for TV birth and grows into a real movie. Not really a zomedy, it's more a cookiecutter road movie with zombie sprinkles.<br />
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Set a couple of months after the inevitable zombie apocalypse, we’re helpfully kept up with what’s happening onscreen by the interminable voiceover of a chuckleheaded teen (a low-budget Michael Cera). Short of a film noir parody, I doubt that there has ever been a movie with more voiceover than <span style="font-weight: bold;">Zombieland</span>. Our chatterbox is soon joined by Woody Harrelson (played by Woody Harrelson) and a mercenary pair of sisters (some raccoon-eyed brunette and that kid from <span style="font-weight: bold;">Little Miss Sunshine</span>). For some reason, they get it into their tiny little minds that an amusement park 3000 miles away is clear of the undead, and off they go. Along the way they talk, shop and argue. Sometimes, a zombie shambles into the picture and they kill it by way of a set of rules lifted (unattributed) from Max Brooks’ zombie satire, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Zombie Survival Guide</span>. Pausing frequently to set up product placement for Hostess and General Motors, they arrive in LA and drop in on a fading A-lister to give him a handjob and pimp a certain film in the Paramount back catalog. The film stops dead in its tracks as the actors vamp to the interminable theme song of that film and the narrative never really recovers. Not that there was much going on before, but...<br />
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It’s never made clear how these rocket scientists manage to last as long as they do in a zombie apocalypse, what with leaving doors and gates open and lighting up big neon signs that flash "Eat Here!" for miles around. A whole, wide world of unlocked gunstores and auto dealerships, and these folks can only scrape up enough brain cell activity to either stumble across supplies or steal from other survivors. Maybe it’s weak metaphor, but it doesn’t feel that way.<br />
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If <span style="font-weight: bold;">Zombieland</span> was a li'l more cartoonish, it might have been something interesting. Unfortunately, most of the creative zombie kills promised in the trailer were featured in the trailer (and in the movie, mostly featured in the opening credits), with the rest of the running time padded out with tone-deaf jibber jabber. The weakest link is trying too hard to be a zombie movie for folks that don't like zombie movies, with too much of the sitcom warm-n-fuzzy hung around its neck. As such, it’s not clever and it’s not suspenseful; one never gets the vibe that any of the leads might not make it to the end credits.<br />
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Even worse, it doesn't even bother to try to overcome its sit-com roots. One gets the vibe that the third act of the script was cobbled together in a hurry to get away from the open end a pilot would have left. And not cobbled very well...here the third act completely betrays the two female characters by having them do something so out of character that it only works so that the two boneheaded males can come in and clean up the mess after them. Ah, stupid chicks. What can you do?<br />
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Down and dirty, the film is an mouth-breathing genre piece made by opportunists that have no affinity for the genre. It's nothing more than a half-baked narrative designed only to connect a series of product placements. Which in itself is ironic, seeing how the prime metaphor of the zombie genre is of rampant consumerism. It's another example of pop culture eating itself, with no self-awareness. A zombie film for zombies.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Shaun of the Dead</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Return of the Living Dead</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dead/Alive</span> are secure as the only zomedies that matter.Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-23245427908195110772009-06-28T23:58:00.001-07:002009-06-29T00:34:22.680-07:00Gotta be trippin'....<br />So... the word burbling up is that Jacko went out on Demerol. Mmmmm... Demerol. I can dig it. And with his face falling off the way it was, completely understandable.<br /><br />Like... me and Demerol? We dated briefly.<br /><br />In a reassuring tone laced with an undercurrent of you-deserve-everything-you're-getting, an emergency room doctor once told me that pancreatitis is the closest a man can come to knowing what it's like to give birth. If that's the case I cannot even begin to figure out why a woman would decide to have a second child. On the other hand, I tried the pancreatitis thing a couple of times myself, so I suppose it all boils down to the same thing ... making the same mistakes all over again just means you're crazy.<br /><br />Demerol burns as it makes its way up the vein. Not a bad burn, just a disconcerting one. Sorta sexy, if you're into that sorta thing. The pain doesn't go away, but it soon becomes insignificant as other things catch your attention ... like how perception of the hospital room shifts and suddenly the bed seems to be aligned against the wall. Sorta cool, but you don't want to sit up suddenly... you might tumble off the bed and smack your face against the wall. Which is now the floor.<br /><br />That morning, I had woke up with what seemed to be the nastiest hangover. Not being prone to them, I figured it was just something that was long overdue. It was... just not in the way I thought. A pints-o'-Guinness diet chased with Jägermeister shots (and no food) is not a diet. As the morning wore on, cold sweat settled in and the abdominal pain began to build. And build. Jack-knifing my torso in a futile attempt to ease the agony, I took a cab to the hospital.<br /><br />Rewind to the ER doc. And a nurse. And an IV drip. Mmmmm... Demerol. Did I mention that Demerol is a blast?<br /><br />It is ... at first.<br /><br />Motionless in my bed as the room slowly tumbled, I kept my attention on the television. Vampire hunters were taking on undead hookers with supersoakers filled with holy water. It was very wet-looking and sounding, although not as much so as my roommate's dying gasps. An older gent, it sounded as if he were drowning in his own blood.<br /><br />Unfortunately for him, he was on an HMO that had decided that he was more expensive than what had been signed off on their terms of agreement, and soon the staff was wheeling him out of the room to presumably dump him out on the street.<br /><br />More on the street later.<br /><br />I was on the government's dime, so again they obligingly paused during the course of his evacuation and asked if I "needed" more Demerol. Why the hell not? I was having fun.<br /><br />Mmmmm... Demerol.<br /><br />The fun ended early in the morning. I didn't see them at first, but I could sense the ghosts of the patients-past moving in. If you're going to be haunted, an old dark hospital is probably not the best place to be. Soon I began to catch glimpses of them, a hollow-eyed little girl darting peeks over the foot of my bed. Not good, and even worse than that was the shadow lurking ... waiting ... behind the curtain that separated the room. Whispering rustled from intangible throats.<br /><br />As they say... fuck that noise.<br /><br />I ripped the IV from the crook of my arm and quickly got dressed. Easing the door closed behind me as I stepped out of the room, the hospital seemed deserted. Almost. A German shepherd padded slowly down the hallway. It looked up at me with dull eyes and I hit the stairwell, winnowing down through the levels until I reached the street.<br /><br />Well, hell...<br /><br />The dead were waiting for me. Over the last couple of hundred years a lot of folks have died at that hospital, and I suppose some of them had nothing better to do than to while away the countdown to the End of Days. Loitering near where they drew their last breath. The streets were choked with them, and they had a malevolent mien. I gave them wide berth. Their empty eyes turned to watch as I stumbled by, the only movement they made toward me. I made for my home, zigging occasionally as a specter loomed in my path, zagging away as another turned towards me.<br /><br />As I made it further from the hospital, the haunts began to taper off. A bloody little boy here at what I assumed was a deadly intersection, a bag lady there where she probably crawled into the bushes one night to sleep off life.<br /><br />They were finally gone by the time I began to cross the campus. Dawn was near. In the place of mere haunts, the crisp air was filled with the dull thuds of something being torn asunder. I spied colossal trolls, trying to tear the roof off of a nearby auditorium with giant sledgehammers.<br /><br />"Damn," I realized ... "I'm trippin'."Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-59474603042524116342009-05-28T23:58:00.000-07:002009-05-29T00:05:29.072-07:00For What it's Worth...<br />Been AWOL awhile, you betcha. Thing is, I got tagged last July to run a late night theatre company... which means that my time's been filled scramblin' to get things done. Doesn't leave alot of time to absorb and comment on other folks work.<br /><br />Anyway, this has (hopefully) culminated in getting ready to get my own film done. Details going on over at <a href="http://thedeadlypenguins.blogspot.com/">The Deadly Penguins</a>.<br /><br />For anyone that drops by on occasion to see if there's been any new posts... thanks for the faith. I miss it, but just don't have the juice. At some point, I'll get back in the groove. Just not happenin' until I get this done.Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585142128145020007.post-85595995252811097592008-12-27T15:30:00.000-08:002008-12-27T16:33:59.273-08:00ZOMBIES (Online Comic)<br />Thanks to <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kung Fu Monkey</span> for the heads up on <span style="font-weight: bold;">howitshouldhaveended.com</span>'s episodic online comic <span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.howitshouldhaveended.com/comics/zombies/zombies_01.html">Zombies</a></span>...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUy8sgtnqaMeBD4hWmvZ4-jflTqyuQ55XSg1DjbvvWurqujLrKMCYLXPnFrZH-BSzBPyN8mLugP9fKL99sBoKuALF28NA0XDx804Rxuwr2heCivONwP4RoWxk8n3LQIqYnnMm1hDyUQTHM/s1600-h/ZOMBIES.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 310px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUy8sgtnqaMeBD4hWmvZ4-jflTqyuQ55XSg1DjbvvWurqujLrKMCYLXPnFrZH-BSzBPyN8mLugP9fKL99sBoKuALF28NA0XDx804Rxuwr2heCivONwP4RoWxk8n3LQIqYnnMm1hDyUQTHM/s400/ZOMBIES.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284624010004087442" border="0" /></a>... it's still early in the game, but looks like it'll be a ball.<br /><br />Craig Blamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04700447209134787468noreply@blogger.com0