Psychomania (1971)

I haven't actually been watching this movie for the first ten minutes.  There's a certain point in the timeline of watching movies like this that you realize the first twenty minutes or so are pretty much just hanging on the front like a skin tag.  Nothing useful there.  And if you look it too closely, it'll hang with you when you try to look at the rest.  And then when you look away too.

Well, this film might be doing some ridiculous thing where it's trying to make sense and establish the undead biker gang, a magic mirror, a toad, and impetulent teens as a logical story, but I wouldn't think so.  I tuned back in mentally when some guy was looking through the mirror on the wall and seeing a frog.  And then watching as that frog morphs into...Alright, confession time.  We've known each other for a little bit now.  I feel like I can be honest with you.  To be truthful, I just re-wound (there's a word you don't see much anymore!  urwelcome) to re-assess and realized that I still don't know what the heck is happening in this film.  I mean, the frog turned into a kid running through a cemetery then into an infant and the dude watching just starts to go nuts.  Am I missing out on some social references here?  Is there some cypher I haven't yet cracked to put me in touch with this film?

And then we snap back to the undead biker gang.  Connection?  No thank you, say the filmmakers.  We'll stick with our avante-garde.  What's the viewer get out of it?  Kids on bikes being invincible and tearing shit up.  Again...urwelcome.

The basic message here?  If you believe you'll come back to life after killing yourself, you will.  Maybe not the most responsible thing to pass on to an impressionable emo-generation.  But whatever.  All in the name of entertainment.  Besides, it's British.  70's British.  What else can you say?

Just keep teenage bikers from actually wanting to actually die and everything will be okay.

Wait.  That's actually decent advice that makes some sense.

How did that happen?

The Last Airbender (2010)

There's an old saying in writing: show, don't tell.  

This film takes that idea, kicks it in the nuts, stabs it in the ribs with a rusty shiv, then lights its carcass on fire and wears the charred skin like a suit so that the image and smell linger long after you stop watching.  

If that wasn't bad enough to make for a truly bad film, the acting is about as good as an episode of Saturday Night Live where the actors are reading their lines from a poster board just off-screen.  I get that they're children for the most part, and that they are driving the entire plot through close-ups and conversation, but if you're going to make a fantasy movie, the actors are going to have to pull off some seriously weird lines.  It's just part of the job.  

I'd summarize the plot for you, but since the actors spend 100% of their on-screen time doing that, I don't want to rob them of their only useful job in this pile of loosely coiled, steaming excrement.  Besides, I don't care enough.  Not about the characters.  Not about the story.  Just not at all.  

Make no mistake, this is not a "good" bad movie.  This here is just a plain, old-fashioned, horrible film.  After watching these people talk to one another about things for over an hour (and then narrate to "mix it up" a little), I wanted to punch the population of the world in the face for going to see this movie to the extent that they did.  Shame on you, worldwide film-going audiences.  Shame on you.

But I made it through.  With the help of some severe inebriation, I braved the excruciating exposition and total lack of any character doing anything that might get the viewer to the next plot-point.  Honestly, I don't recommend the level of annihilation that this film requires.  There may not be enough intoxicating substances to last us as a society if too many people try to endure all 100+ minutes of this apathetic talk-a-thon.  

What I do know (because it was said so many times) is that if you kill the Avatar, he'll just be reborn again.  Maybe they should have killed him.  That way he might have been reborn into a decent movie.  

Hausu (1977)

The Criterion Collection just released this film on DVD with a fantastic set of extras and a whole slew of infused legitimacy. Honestly, I think it's the best example of the company showing that they are not just movie snobs with an interest in reinforcing the standard canon. It's a little like a Shakespearean critic giving two thumbs up to 10 Things I Hate About You and then hosting a Ross Perot-style Infomercial about the DVD. You might not get what their motivation is, but the fact that they're going to these lengths is impressive even without understanding it.

While the film is about a young girl who goes to visit her aunt with a group of her school friends, it is literally shot in such a fashion that makes all of what I just typed irrelevant. The stylistic content is absolutely stomping on the literal plot. From the painted backgrounds to the animated segments and the creepy cat, this film takes the snooze-worthy set-up and churns it into a raging blast of quirky artistry. Nobuhiko Obayashi definitely did not waste the screen-time of his film. He took every rubber-stamp moment and turned it on its head. Need to get those school-girls to the house of the film's title? Well, why not do it with a little psychadelia sprinkled around the edges? Got some boring exposition? Spice it up with kaleidascoping. How can you jazz up a lot of drawn out chatter? Throw in a pratfall scene and boatloads of matte backgrounds...maybe even a short animated sequence where the girls ride the train out to the countryside.

Even with all the Easy Rider experimentation, the first part of the film drags. It's nice that we actually view a flashback as if the girls are watching it on an old grainy film, but it still doesn't quite make up for the fact of that the story is a bit tedious. As I said, the style is definitely out-weighing the substance here. But maybe that's the point: to take a vapid script and turn it into something visually exciting. To tell the truth, most American horror films can't seem to accomplish this task. And I still wait for the day when both style and substance wedge their way into American film in general (although, to reel the cynicism back a notch, there are a few examples that do a damned good job).

Once the girls get to the aforementioned House, the weirdness doesn't stop (some kung-fu action against falling chandelier crystals, for example). As soon as there's a floating severed head biting her schoolgirl friend on the ass, you know that weirdness has turned a strange corner. After that, there's a woman eating a severed hand, a fire-woman, a schoolgirl getting beaten to death by pillows and mattresses, and an awesome-ass piano death (see below).

Needless to say, the movie is weird. It's even a hair more weird than my usual fare, but still not quite as far out in the stratosphere as The Holy Mountain. Definitely a different kind of horror to be had with this horror film.

A few things to note:

*Word on the street is that the director got the story idea from his 12 year-old daughter

*The director got his start directing Charles Bronson in Mandom commercials (nothing sells some cologne like showing a couple of guys putting it on...together)

So, thank you Criterion. You've definitely educated me on how liberally you interpret the phrase "important classic and contemporary films". This movie definitely opened my eyes to all sorts of crazy. Maybe next time you could do an edition of The Killing of Satan?

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

If there ever was a fruit that would have justification for rebelling against humanity, it is certainly the psuedo-vegetable Tomato. And from the start, their revolt is captured in its full glory through a series of vignettes that coalesce into a fantastic poetry plucked from the ether of B-movie awesome. It's like Night of the Living Dead took a bath with Airplane! scented soap and then toweled off with The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.

Thing is, there's no discernable plot here. Well, except that the tomatoes are attacking. Outside of that, it's just a bunch of people in scenes reacting to the attacking. Honestly, the best part of any of these attacks is the gibberish that the tomatoes spew as their signature "noise" (the first thirty-seconds of the video below...be sure to turn up the sound).

It truly is a relief to be reassured that this movie doesn't even attempt to take itself seriously. You never know with Hollywood these days. They make a 2012 movie just a year shy of scientists figuring out they miscalculated the date (couple that with the idea that far too many Americans believe there's some insight to be gained from an ancient calendar when they largely don't inform themselves outside of their own point of view, and the combination is troubling).

Thankfully, this film has gotten me to thinking about the larger issues in life. I mean, have you prepared for a fruit attack!? Is your family safe from the harm that any number of savagely photosynthisizing and mobile plant-parts could inflict upon your simple existence?! These things have no conscience. They cannot distinguish between the blood of an innocent babe and water running from a kitchen tap! These most un-beastly of beasts are propagating the earth around us in order to extend their most un-claw-like of claws and ravage us from the planet. Something must be done, and done now!!!

America has led the charge in avoiding these vicious fuckers whose only aim is to spread their seeds to every viable corner of soil and take it as their own!! It's time for someone else to follow our lead. It's time for some international body to support our efforts in this as they basically ride our coattails in the name of an international governing body.

I'm looking at you, United Nations.

So, if someone in my family...or a friend's family...or someone who I hear about from someone I know...or an American that is reported on the news - even if he's from a different state and I've never met him...or a foreigner (but it really depends on what country they're from)...if ANY of these people are eviscerated by these rampaging garden resultants...well then, we have a serious problem. And I will continue to ignore that problem for as long as possible while simultaneously blaming any group of people or metaphysical idea that I'm able to point an accusing finger at.

Happy voting folks!

The Hand (1981)

I remember watching this film when I was very young and it came on television. For all of these years I could picture the scene where Michael Caine loses his hand. It would pop full-bore into my brain whenever I would pass someone on a two lane road, or when someone else would as I was in a car nearby. Or whenever I would see one car pass another on television. And even sometimes when I just thought about cars passing each other on a two-lane road (from 8:58 to the end of the video below).

Outside of that, I remember absolutely nothing about this movie. Because of that, I was very surprised to find that it was a parable of an artist losing his ability to art, and then being hunted down psychologically by that propensity.

And Oliver Stone directed it, so there must be, like, multiple layers about a story where a dude loses his hand, he becomes a retro-cyborg, his severed hand carries out the vengeance of his subconscious mind (because, really, it can't just go get a job at McDonalds), before the main guy gets thrown in a nuthouse without really telling us whether the hand was imaginary or not. Damn auteurs.

There is some seriously fantastic Michael Caine in this film though. No joke, for a B-rate horror movie, he still brings the goods snarled in the side of his lip (much like the badass Harry Brown), and he lays them dead on the table (see the original Get Carter). He even does this while lip-syncingly commanding his dead-hand to strangle his soon-to-be ex-wife while lying in an adjacent room, and ESPECIALLY while wrestling with his. own. hand.

The following is a Public Service Announcement:

Michael Caine's hand strangles Michael Caine in this movie. Thus, Michael Caine's hand > Michael Caine. If this evidence holds true in relation to all of Michael Cain's limbs, then no one should decapitate Michael Caine's head from Michael Caine's body in the event of a Zombpacalypse. There's no telling what absolute horror Michael Caine's severed head could dispense upon an unsuspecting world.

Thank you for your cooperation.

So, watching this film when I was young scarred me for life. But at least it kept me from getting a limb severed in an automobile accident...and then have that limb, maybe, kill people that made me mad. That would've been pretty awful, right?

Lone Wolf McQuade (1983)

We now return to our regularly scheduled program:

And now that I’m back, I have to be the first to write, and therefore contribute to the internet, that Lone Wolf McQuade is the Chuck Norris’ magnum opus. This is his Fistful of Dollars. This is where he is Connery’s Bond. He makes the Chuck Norris here that all other variations will deviate from. With that said, the guy has a serious hard-on for playing a Texas Ranger on film. Regardless, if ever a man earned the right to be described as “grizzled,” it is certainly the man with a fist behind his beard.

Well the music of the film was as inspired-by-Ennio-Morricone-but-ended-up-mocking-it-through-a-horribly-failed-imitation as the filmmaker was inspired-by-Sergio-Leone-but-ended-up-mocking-it-through-a-horribly-failed-imitation. So, they were well-paired. But no amount of horribly cheesy imitation music can save this plot from writing itself. Seriously, if you put a bunch of monkeys in a room after you’ve force-fed them chocolate-covered clichés all morning, evening, and night for six months, the first draft of what they write would be the script for Lone Wolf McQuade. Hell, they’d probably even spit out a cast list that has Chuck Norris’ name at the top.

Side Note: There is a seriously obscene amount of shirtless-Chuck in this film. Shirtless-Chuck shoots guns while he’s shirtless. Why? Because one thing that shirtless-Chuck does is whatever the hell shirtless-Chuck wants.

Anyway, Ranger Chuck is your Dirty Harry of Texas Rangers. He has a daughter and some bad peeps just go on ahead and almost kill her into a ditch in her car after killing her boyfriend all uzi-like. Those bad peeps are led by karate champ David Carradine at his smarmy best (until he, sadly, fights Chuck while wearing a freakin cardigan in the final battle).

Eventually, Ranger Chuck’s dog-wolf gets killed, Ranger Chuck gets almost-killed, and there’s some serious last-15-minutes-revenge-action. This film is not about the plot though. It’s about watching shirtless-Chuck shoot guns, Ranger Chuck kick some ass, Emotional (?) Chuck make-out in the mud and punch the ground when his wolf gets shot all uzi-like, and then Ranger Chuck get some kick ass revenge. It’s good stuff.

Seriously, Ranger Chuck wears a bullet belt. And he comes back from the brink of death to ask for a beer. umfuckyes.

Anyhow, Chuck is an exceedingly more badass Texas Ranger in this film than he is in that whole millennia-long Walker Texas Ranger series (and seriously, who was keeping the ratings of that show so far above the water-line!?!!). That means there’s punching and anger…Chuck-style (invincible, angry, and with gravy-thick layer of imitation Ennio Morricone music draped over Chuck putting a cowboy hat on or putting his gun in the gun-belt). As a warning, he does quite a bit of glistening as a result of his deluge of Chuck Norris punching/anger/headband/sweetness in the latter half of the film, so be sure to put on your protective gear.

Advertorialisms

A few bits of commentary on the state of journalism (here and here as examples but certainly only symptoms of a wider issue):

Article 1: Does a fan really make you cooler?

Excerpts:

“Independent studies have shown that moving air actually feels cooler than air that isn’t moving. Since a fan moves the air around you, it does actually lower your body temperature.”

“Along with all the complicated research being done on what's being called 'the velocity of air,' most people also believe that having someone rooting for you (in other words, a fan), does make you a cooler person. Thus, the more fans a person or celebrity has, the cooler they are.”

“The verdict? Everyone needs a fan.”

Article 3: Is it a myth that alcohol gets you drunk?

Excerpts:

“New evidence suggests that the power of the mind over our own bodies is even greater than once thought. Hospitals are including hypnotism as a way for patients to deal with chronic pain, and placebos are constantly used in medical research with actual effects and side-effects reported by the people who take them. If the mind/body connection is this powerful, could the actual effects of alcohol actually just be something imagined?”

“While there are innumerable examples of people acting far more drunk than they actually are (oddly, this behavior occurs mostly in women of college age), scientists continue to believe that alcohol does actually get you intoxicated.”

“We took this question to the researchers involved with alcohol: Does drinking alcohol actually get a person drunk? One scientist replied to our question with skepticism, ‘What?’ he seemed to scoff. Another said, ‘Yeah, it does. We can measure how much is in your system. The more that’s in your system, the more intoxicated you are.’ But it seems the layman isn’t so positive.

We stopped an average male as he was leaving a local bar and posed the same question. His response: ‘Well, sure, I’ve had about six shots of jager and seven or eight beers, but I don’t really feel that drunk.’ And another man who was found in an alley and appeared to be unable to walk said, ‘Your mother gets me drunk,’ and then laughed incessantly.”

Article 4: Where does “wasted time” go? Can you really get it back?

Excerpts:

“We’ve all gone through a weekend and wondered on the other side, ‘what happened to all my free time?’ Well, we’ve set aside our actual journalistic pursuits to write an entire article about where all that time goes, and how you might be able to get some of it back.”

“As it turns out, wasted time is actually just time that we spend on things that we like so much and do so little that our accountability for that time dwindles to nothing. Mostly we’re so mentally present in the enjoyable activity that we forget to think of what we still have on our to do lists or what we’ve yet to sufficiently accomplish. As a result, time is lost and cannot be reclaimed.”

“There is a solution though. In order to avoid this common issue, the most enterprising solution we’ve found is to restrain your activities to those that you don’t enjoy - like you do at work. That way, your focus is always on the time it takes to accomplish those tasks and move on to others that you similarly don’t enjoy. By keeping to this pattern at home in your ‘free time’ as well as at work, you’ll soon realize how long you’ve spent on each and every activity. And ‘wasted time’ will be a thing of your past!”

Article 6: Think life’s “achievements” should be more like the ones in videogames? You’re not alone.

Excerpts:

“Johnny Muroski is an average 8 year-old living in the Oregan/North Dakota area. He plays almost 20 hours of video games per week and has even put a lot of his time into playing older games in order to challenge his friends to see who can get the highest score. Johnny likes the congratulations he receives when he beats a game or gets a high score. Unfortunately, when we asked him if he got the same congratulations when he did well on a test, he said no….”

“In fact, most people report that they simply do not get the same sense of accomplishment when they do well at their jobs or at school. They say that beating a really tough level of a videogame offers a real feeling that their actions have meaning in the world – that what they do has a measurable pitch and scale against the accomplishments of others. And when asked about their jobs, most reply like Johnny’s videogaming father: ‘Going to my job every day is like playing the most horribly designed level of a videogame over and over again for hours at a time. And at the end of each time you play, you don’t lose a life and then start fresh, you lose a little bit of your life-bar that you’ll never get back again.’…”

“Some theorize that life’s ‘achievements’ should be revised to more closely model those in videogames. These experts believe that there are numerous examples in modern videogames where the player is forced to complete a repetitive action ad nauseum, but that they are more content (and less likely to allow their frustration to turn into a violent rampage) with this action when there is the potential promise of recognition when it’s completed. These same experts believe that real life just isn’t like that, but that it should be.”

Article 7: Research shows that weight loss commercials don’t help you lose weight.

Excerpts:

“Are you watching television when a commercial about some new weight loss program comes on? Do you wonder if those commercials help you lose that weight that you’ve been depressed about for years?

Well, they don’t. You need to exercise.”

Colors (1988) - a guest review

This review brought to you by A. Lee and most likely a substance that starts with the letter W:

Even the worst movies to come onto THIS are great in their ability to depict the world as it was 22 years ago. Supposedly. Actually, only the aerial and drive-by shots in the opening credits--with their frighteningly realistic video of scary looking poor people in dangerous neighborhood--can pass for a semi-truthful depiction of the world in 1988.

The actual plots of these movies tend to focus on white working-men's power struggles in some inner city police force. Often the white man who manages to catch the most non-white men is the one to quickly rise in the ranks.

While the plot focuses on the competing white cops, brief scenes of competing black gangs scream and lunge at each other while climbing the bars of opposing prison cages like wild animals.

All this while Robert Duvall is out saving the neighborhood and maintaining his virility in the face of that overly confident rookie, Sean Penn.

Keep your People's History of the United States next to you when you watch this one. And a healthy admiration for the acting skills of Duvall, Penn, and...is that Don Cheadle?? Holy shit!

Laserblast

I first saw this movie ages ago while staying up later than I should have to watch USA Up All Night (most likely in the hope that some television censor-person was pissed off enough at his/her job that they knowingly left a small bit of T&A in the film). Those were the days.

In case you don't remember...either Gilbert Godfrey or Rhonda Shear would banter about how bad the film was and even show small snippets for ridicule. Laserblast is a representative example of the type of movies they would show.

It concerns a young man who has the misfortune of being surrounded by cops that get high on the job, some weird psychotic old guy, and a mother who takes every opportunity to get away from you to Acapolco. That combination is the worst part of it. What takes us as an audience into feeling full and complete sympathy for this character is that all of the people mentioned (and others) are willingly participating in a bad movie.

That wouldn't be so terrible, except that the lead actor seems to have convinced himself that he's a good actor in a good movie.

Seriously though, an alien leaves some type of rocket-arm-that-shoots-lasers on earth and this main character Luke Skywalker stand-in finds it. There are other aliens who want to find the thing and they hunt Stooge Lightwalkerdon down in a useless "teen party" scene. It's at this point in re-watching the film that I sorely miss the quippy insights of either Rhonda or even, sadly, Gilbert freakin' Godfry (a phrase I will never utter out loud). But here I am still sticking with it though. For you, dear reader. All for you.

"Watch as he immasculates himself! See the terrible crucifixtion of his dignity!! Watch as he assails his mind with the mostly heretofore hypothesized inanity!!!"

Anyhow, Bruce Bi-stalker seems to be a pretty good guy. Unfortunately, the rocket-arm-that-shoots-lasers kinda acts like the One-Ring and corrupts his soul so that he ends up going nutzo on some jerkhole's car and eventually the whole town (but mostly still focusing on the cars because the filmmakers must have gotten a discount at the junkyard - where they probably also found the script and post-production equipment). That brings the cops that get high on the job down on his back. From here the plot gets even more convoluted and, seriously, without any reason given in the film itself as to why I should care, I opt for the default: I don't give a shit...

They did blow a lot of shit up in this film though (of course, when the trailer ends with "It will blow your mind!" there's a certain contractual obligation). This raises the questions: how did a movie this bad spend 90% of its budget on blowing shit up? Why not put 5, or even $10 on the production value and the script? Actually, I'll answer those questions for you...because the only thing even way more better than entertaining your audience, is confusing the shit out of them with applesauce.

2012 the "movie"

After watching this film, I tweeted John Cusack (pictured above trying to avoid the fact that he's actually in this movie) the following: "Watched 2012. Wow. Almost shoulda watched Troll 2 again instead." Needless to say, he hasn't responded.

So, this film is a disaster movie in the vein of Airport, Towering Inferno, or The Poseidon Adventure. Basically, the type of movie that Airplane! made fun of so well. The one thing to learn from this film is that we look back on those movies with more nostalgia than they're worth. They are spectacle. Plain and simple. And 2012 knows that very well.

To summarize the plot, I wouldn't need to dig too deep into detail. Essentially, the earth is doing some re-structuring and large groups of the working class and the middle management are being cut. Fortunately, John Cusack is a limo driver who has an uncanny knack for surrounding himself with people who can get him safely to another group of people who will be equally beneficial. Three times in a row he is on the only airplane escaping a sinking runway and able to dodge the subsequent falling buildings. Then, once there aren't runways to land on anymore, his plane is miraculously closer to land because of the earth's shifty-business. Awesome. And even with all of this, the filmmakers still try to trick us into believing he's dead at the end. Cheap trick, filmmakers. Cheap trick.

In fact, this film is full of cheap tricks. Somewhere around 85% of the film is buildings and buses and subway trains all flying around amok because of the disaster. The other 15% is basically what I described above. So, in the end, I really can't blame Mr. Cusack. He probably only had to work for about a week on this movie anyway. I still would have suggested he turn it down though. I mean, it was made by the guy who made the American Godzilla movie. That one still stings.

The Garbage Pail Kids Movie

A magic shop owner keeps horribly deformed children captive in a garbage pail. Those mentally challenged kids escape and befriend a fairly normal looking kid. (Isn't that always the way it goes?) They form a clothing company to help him win the heart of a girl and then break out into song (SONG!?!?!) That is your plot for The Garbage Pail Kids Movie. That's what you've done to yourself. Great job society.

Seriously though, I was part of the problem as much as anyone else. My backpack had a rubberbanded stack of the cards when I was about nine years old. It was about an inch thick and worn around the edges. So, yes, I fully implicate myself in this tragedy of a commercial....er, movie.

Oddly, the Ali Gator character sounds exactly like Carl from Aqua Teen. I tried to find an audio clip online to illustrate this little tidbit, but apparently no one cares enough about this movie. And rightly so. It certainly earned a place (at one time) among the lowest 100 on the IMDB list of all movies, ever.

By the time I was finished with the film, the film wasn't yet over. In fact, it went on for another hour. (running time: 96 minutes) But I did learn two valuable lessons: always make friends with a biker gang, and children's movies are a super-weird kind of disturbing.

This movie creeped me out. A little bit like Teeth did. That will probably mean I'll be dreaming of this tonight:

Bitch Slap

Alright. Who doesn't love naked/nearly-naked/scantily-clad/sparsely-dressed/nude-ish/overly bare women? You show me someone who doesn't love them, and I will show you someone whose soul is mal-adjusted. Straight women love women. Lesbians love women. Even a bunch of gay dudes out there dig on the female form sans the attraction aspect.

Bitch Slap focuses on this from the start without being too much about breaking "type." In the first five minutes there's a group of women who've taken some dude hostage in their trunk. That's no the problem. The problem is, one of them is almost reduced to tears when he sends a harsh word her way. At this point, I'm still hoping that the film might be about everyone stepping into baddassery. Later, there's the obligatory lesbian scene. It's grindhouse. I dig it.

Come to find out, this movie has absolutely no clear direction. One second, it's the "play on grindhouse movies" movie. The next, it's jamming in some heavily green-screened scene straight out of the live action Speed Racer Movie. And suddenly she's using a hair-pick to interact with a computer and there's some serious green-screen again. Then we're back to the grindhouse. And to some scene that would look appropriate coming from a cutscene on an early 90's computer game (see below).

(trust me, you'll want to watch the following)

Maybe I don't get it. There might be some serious genius going on here. To be honest though, the use of all of these different filming techniques might be interesting in its variety, but their overuse raises the question of whether these choices were made deliberately...or haphazardly. I can see little evidence of one - and a lot of the other.

But then again, I do love sexy women doing their acting-things, dripping in their own sexiness. While being sexual.

So, the lesson here is: If you're going to just hit one note in your movie...

Boobs is never a wrong answer:

The Lost Skeleton Returns Again

Note: I am writing this entry without the use of expletives as a tip-of-the-hat to the writer of the film. Believe me, it’s tough as…well, you know...some four-letter word.

Anyways, I usually don’t write about movies that I think are simply “flat-out awesome” for good reason. To be honest, I'm pretty bad at heaping praise. I tend to lean more towards ridicule and finger-pointing than flat-out adoration.

The fact remains, though, that there are movies that deserve the latter. This film is one such film that deserves it's own deserving. And then some.

So, The Lost Skeleton Returns Again is a send-up of 1950’s jungle-adventure films. It is consistent flashes of brilliant dialogue in-between astonishingly hilarious set-pieces (Monsters!) that sew together a plot that is only barely more tightly knit than the dialogue.

That's the freakin' point numb-skull (haha, see what I did there?).

The disjointed conversations and “bad” acting are all part of the deal. I’m hoping I don’t have to tell you that. Just in case, it is and has to be appreciated for what it is. It’s parody! (I know, most of us are relatively unfamiliar with the concept. Take a refresher course.) Believe me, you’ll get the funny the second time around if not the first. It'll settle into your bones (see, there it is again!) and then suddenly you'll hear yourself uttering the words, "The jungle gets into your blood and builds tiny little houses of pain and you don't wanna be there when the rent's due because the anaconda, funny thing; they don't know how to read a lease." And if you don’t, well, go back to watching Meet the Spartans and Vampires Suck. Those are easy enough on your simple little brain. Adam Sandler probably has a movie coming out in a couple of months too.

Enough of that.

Bottom line(s): this movie is hilarious. It is hilarious because the actors know what they’re doing:



It is hilarious because the lines are hilarious:



And it is hilarious because because because:



Buy it. And others. And other others.



FLemING…fleMINg…FleMinG…FLEMing....fLEmINg....

Zardoz

I could posit some theory about how this movie is actually a very long metaphor for filmmaking and/or the creative process and then support that theory by saying the floating head is the director or narrator and the mustacheo-ed Sean Connery is the wild idea of the story personified, taking on a life of its own but without a director the story just falls into craziness. But I won’t do that. The point is this: either this film is a genius, satirical, metafictional examination of some seriousness on the track of 8 ½ or it’s some crap that a couple of people on some really weird acid trips made to have most of the budget to support their habit.

One very important talking point of this film is the fact that the designer of the outfit that Sean Connery’s character “Zed” wears must have been doing some serious drugs. The idea that at least one person (the costume director) wanted to see this man wear red drapes wrapped around him (and especially how he wears them around his “junk”) is especially disheartening to me. I’m mean, I’m fairly misanthropic, but this reaches a low for society that even I can’t fathom. And this person is out there. Walking amongst you. You probably walk right past him all the time. Maybe he’s even your husband. Your child. I’m disappointed in all of you by association.

Anyhow! “Zed” gets into a giant head and takes a little flight in it. He ends up almost, but not quite, in Barbarella-land heaven where he is an instant hit with the locals because he exudes the kind of machismo that only Burt Reynolds is allowed to talk about. But mostly because of his erection. You see, the people in heaven can’t get them – or something. And they’re also immortal. Can’t forget that. So, these immortals keep trying to kill “Zed” because they know he can die and that’s what they’d want if they were actually able to die.

This movie is definitely on my list of “Need to Be Re-Made By An Artsy Director” films. Then again, this may have already been handled by the Wachowski's. There are some serious hints of The Matrix going on here.

One last thing: if you’re ever asked to name a movie where the main hero is a rapist, you’ve got one in your pocket now!

Letter to ThisTv

Dear ThisTV,

Alright. So a lot of your movies are flaunting around town with the crown of “Cult Film” proudly displayed. Honestly, that’s why I love your network. While you split time between the run-of-the-mill cult movies like Foxy Brown, Convoy, and Dr. Phibes, some of the films that you show are without exaggeration, cult-of-the-cult-of-the-cult films. I mean, who in their right mind would sit and say to themselves, “You know, there was this great TV-movie that I saw in 1983 that I just really needed to remember and then seek to watch again.” But there they are!

Don’t get me wrong here; I love the shit out of it. The sheer amount of Oscar-worthy cheese on your channel satiates my desire to watch Godzilla films on a daily basis, and I love that I don’t have to return to that drug of choice so regularly because of it.

With that said, I would simply suggest a bit more ownership of this aspect of your programming. I mean, you really label your stuff on Saturday night with exactly what it is. The rest of it seems to just be aired with a straight face as if it’s completely normal for a third-rate B-movie (like Species 3) to be broadcast twice on a Friday during prime-time.

My advice is play to the “quirky” angle and reel in the crowd that Elvira or Grandpa Munster might have drawn with little snippets of bumpers to play with these films. Kitschy, hipster shit will catch on like Adult Swim. You get me, I’m sure.

Again, I can’t express how much I enjoy your network. Thank you for the work that you do to keep my regular interest, and I hope you’ll take my recommendation into account as you move forward. I appreciate your attention to this letter.

Sincerely,

GR3G0R

The Mighty Peking Man

(Editorial Note: In an effort to illustrate how easily the "message" of this film might just have been lost in translation, the author has written this review and then passed it through voice-recognition technology. The italicized sections that follow each paragraph are the "translations" of the written portions.)

Apparently, the Peking people are descendents of a giant man in the worst monkey suit you’ve ever had nightmares about. Fortunately, this prehistoric ancestor was a bit of a pedophile and sheltered a little blonde Caucasian girl. Now, I know what you’re thinking – a monkey, a pretty blonde white girl – that shit’s racist as hell! But no, you are wrong. This film was made in Hong Kong by the Shaw Brothers (who also made Super Inframan) and could not possibly have the same implications that it would have here in the States. On the other hand, the depiction of “uncivilized” natives may be a bit more evidence in your favor.

Apparently the theKing people are descendants of john Mann and worst abuse and you ever have nightmares about four to leave and restart ancestor was a bit of a cab file children one and her now I know you're thinking of Waukeen approval of like a role that shit's resistance help but know your own as far as main hall of a shawl brothers walls of medicine for Inframan and could not possibly have the same implications that it would have here in the states on the other and the depiction of uncivilized natives may be a bit more of that, but.

After the giant monkey man gets jealous because our explorer hero gets it on with the fully-grown Caucasian lady, they take the nappy giant to the public where he eventually commences with the epic destroying. What’s the lesson here? The rubber-suited monster friend of your blonde piece of ass is not your friend, despite what Sun Tzu might have said.

After the giant market and gets jealous because orcs border of its on with the fully-grown confidently that tape and that the joy of week were given treatment as part of that strike would solicit your of rubber-suited monster friend of your one piece of asp is not offer a spite what some some quite upset.

Alright, so full disclosure time, I actually fast-forwarded through a good 25 minutes of this film. Don’t worry though, I only skipped through some love story montage bullshit. Nope, I’m not kidding – 25% of this movie is some relationship crap. Seriously!?!?

Or I saw I've actually fast-forwarded to recruit 25 minutes of the stop don't worry though I'll escape her small story montage portrait note about getting 25 percent of this movie is of religion crap series.

Admittedly though, once the dude in the terrible monkey suit starts tearing shit up, he does a pretty great job of it. He even throws some dude down on the pavement then stomps on him to the horror of everyone watching (even mine because it looked so damn cheesy). They even have tiny tiny tanks to attempt to “kill the Peking Man by any means [they] can!”

Admittedly bill wants the dude interment will be soon start Eric show about it is a pretty great job of the universe undo down favorite then stops of enter the war of everyone watching you divide the cut it off so that choosing the unit at tiny tiny tanks to attempt to kill the Peking man by any means they can.

So in the end, what did we learn? Well, that even the makers of Super Inframan-goodness can create a mediocre film with a giant man in an ape suit. Also, don’t trust the military with the life of your monster cause they will blow that fucker away if given the chance (everyone knows that the military is to giant monsters as a snake is to its celtic tail). And finally, the horrific burning of the giant ape in this film was brought to you by Mobil – “Mobil: burning giant monsters since 1963.”

Sign him with a remark well but you know makers of super Inframan-goodness and created the new ore from the giant panda the needs of also don't trust the military would like for monster that we will allow the fucker away if given the chance. Everyone knows the military is to drive monsters as a snake is to itself detail. And finally the horrific burning of the giant even the store was brought to you via local mobile burn giant monster since 1963.

Gamera the Brave

Well I'm immediately interested because the first five minutes has a serious "Dragon Wars" feel to it. But then it quickly lulls into the age-old story of the hallucination prone son of a father-son duo finding an egg that hatches a turtle which grows to be a giant, rubber-suited monster. But this journey is certainly not a speedy one and you'll find yourself wanting to take a moment to clear out your internet-browser cookies in order to stay awake. You also should know that the Japanese title of the film was "Young Braves of Gamera". Because that should stink in your nose a little like this film quickly does. And it's set in 2006 so we know nothing too terrible happens.

Between getting up for more beer. Sizing up the fridge contents to see if there might be some puzzle-combination that renders me dinner. And getting up to double-check that there's no more beer, I gathered some nonsense about a medical operation, a levitating and mischievous baby turtle, and some sort of political intrigue about sinking ships. And then I went to make my dinner. And then I thought that I was finally witnessing the holy grail of kaiju (the consumption of a person by kaiju) but I was fooled. That's when it happened.

I heard the roar of a kaiju from the kitchen and ran out to see. There was actually a split second of cool kaiju moment. And then gone again.

So I finished cooking dinner and then turned off this piece of crap so that I could watch something good.

Lesson learned: If you find a weird egg - that thing is a kaiju.

Super Infra-Man

Let’s start our cocktail with a little bit of Ultraman. You know, the Japanese show where a dude turns into a superhero and grows large enough to battle giant monsters each episode. With this, you get inexplicably confounding dialog and a plotline that must have come in the acid dreams of a free-association writer. Then you add a little bit of Shaw Brothers (the kung-fu guys) for flavor, and you have Super Infra-man – the inventor of the “Power Rangers” style of fight choreography.

The “plot” of this film is that the Demon Princess is going to destroy the world by bringing up monsters from the center of the earth via a fancy transporter beam. In retaliation, the Chinese government (or rather, the “people of earth” from a Chinese perspective) injects a dude with some super-serum in order to turn him into a robotic “Infra-man” who is powered by a nuclear generator and looks like a cross between Optimus Prime, a bug, and Michael Jackson. Sweet, right!?!

This movie isn’t about plot though (I don’t see how it could be as it's near-jibberish), it is about action, and Super Infra-man definitely delivers a nuclear reactor’s worth of that. Once Infra-man (we’re tight, so I can call him that) is unleashed on an unsuspecting plant, he unravels an ass-kicking that would spell out “EPIC” in Braille if it were melted down and played backwards. From there, he goes on to battle a red spandex-clad Wild Thing, a vicious enlarging bug (where he finally gets the opportunity to set the standard for growing big and destroying a monster), an awesomely handlebar-mustached fire-breather and a drill-handed somethingorother, and the fantastic final battle with three dozen skeleton dudes, dumping a hot chick into lava and then...well, you should probably just see the video below.

But, is it good? You ask?

Before I answer, I want to digress into an insight.

You know, there really isn’t a better idea of “science” than there was in these types of films. It’s a little like what you imagined science was when you only knew a few vocabulary words and figured that flashing buttons were the evidence of the future. Scientists were the builders of things to come and they ran their experiments all rogue-like in laboratories which must have been funded by the phsycho-kenetic energy of any Westerner trying to discern the plot of a poorly translated Asian film. Those were the days when you could put a nuclear reactor in a man and not have to face “ethical” issues. It truly was the golden years of hypothetical progress.

So anyway. Yes, it’s good. It’s actually pretty damned awesome, as evidenced below.

Seriously, watch the whole thing. And don't worry if you can't understand the dialog - it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway.

(You can thank me later.)

Demons at the Byrd!!

After attending a showing of Bava’s 1986 horror film “Demons” (Demoni if you’re looking for it on Wikipedia), I came away with a few observations, most of which have little to nothing to do with the movie itself.

First, the screening of “classic” films around Richmond, Virginia MUST CONTINUE. If you haven’t attended a “Movies & Mimosas” or “Insomnia Theater” film at the Bow Tie Movieland or a Gorehound Features presentation of one of many fantastic horror films (Zombie and Demons are recent examples) at the Byrd, then you are truly missing out.

In an age of home theater systems and high-quality digital sound systems, we are tempted to lose an appreciation for a time when films were meant to be a communal experience. Sure, you can pack a few of your friends into your living room, but there is still something essential missing when you watch a film at home. Not only just the big screen viewing, but laughing with a crowd of people you don’t know and seeing that people outside of your circle enjoy the same strange niche films that you do. Simply seeing that there is a whole seedy community of folks around me who are into watching the same films and loving them for the same reasons I do truly gives an irreplaceable feeling.

You might say that you can see these same films through your Netflix account or from the local Blockbuster and watch them in the comfort of your own home, nestled securely with the popcorn you’ve made in the microwave. But I say to you, there really is NO comparison. Hearing some guy on the other side of the theater yell something at the movie is PART of what makes these films great. You both know that you are enjoying the film on the same level. It’s just fun. Watching movies should not always be a solitary, lonely experience where you are focused intently on what’s happening on-screen. Entertainment is one important aspect of seeing a film, but it isn’t the only one. The gatherings I’ve mentioned are incredibly fun because you’re part of an audience that is watching a movie, and none of you (including, most likely, the filmmakers) are taking the process too seriously. There are simply a number of films that are meant to be enjoyed with others, to share them broadly and simultaneously, and sometimes that even means hearing what someone else thinks of what’s on-screen during the film.

When the film literally melted in the projector, we were all left in the dark theater and I took the moment to ponder how disposable media is these days. I have over 200 movies in my Netflix instant queue. That’s more than 200 films that I can watch at any moment, stop if I choose, watch later, or toss to the side. In addition to that, I have a Blockbuster which houses 1000s of films only a few blocks from where I live. I can order movies in any number of ways and begin watching them in just a few moments. What all of this has done is create a culture where we simply don’t appreciate how things used to be. I recently read an article on “cult” films which you can read here.

Basically, the author of that article points out that finding and screening these films has lost its luster because you no longer have to be in the “know” where they are concerned. A film that someone might have ordered from Thailand through the mail back when I was a kid can easily be added to a Netflix queue and at your house within two to three days (as I did with The Killing of Satan). The fact that the film had actually melted was a completely new experience for me. The worst that had happened previously is that I got a scratched DVD in the mail and had to send it back for a replacement. Big whoop.

As another example, a film that would only be seen in the theater, and then only during its run, can now be queued up with the rest. What we often forget of these movies is that they were meant to be screened in a theater, not on a 42’ inch television (even if it is widescreen with surround sound) in your home.
Unfortunately, since we don’t have to work to see these movies, they are just lumped in with the rest and judged along the same standards as the most recent Hollywood blockbuster we saw in 3D.

So I’ll definitely pay another $10 to see the next Gorehound Feature at the Byrd and around $6 to see the next “Movies and Mimosas” because even though I can see Touch of Evil, Demons, Hidden Fortress, and Zombie in my home and enjoy them on my own couch, I certainly can’t have the same great experience with a group of people who are digging them for the same reason I am.

Fun.

The Killing of Satan (1983)

1. A “snake boy”
2. Hand Repulsors
3. An elbow shield
4. A superpower granting zombie
5. A main character named “Lando” played by the Burt Reynolds of Filipino cinema
6. An inexplicably exploding chest
7. A mute boy
8. A cross-eyed “Scanners” moment (seen above)
9. Superpowers that operate according to a completely invented version of physics
10. The red spandex on the “Prince of Magic”, son of Satan
11. A jailfull of naked women
12. The main character throwing people into animals (not ‘into’ as in “someone bumped into me” but rather “he turned into a frog when she kissed him”)
13. And finally, Lando vs. Satan



If you don’t want to see how all these disparate elements come together on film, then I’m going to need you to prove to me that you’re not dead inside.

I drink your blood ('nuff said)

You know that warm feeling you get when you think about the horror films of your youth? How great, cheesy, and fantastically gory they were? The ones of your youth really had it right, didn't they? They really knew how to balance all the best parts of a fantastic horror movie. That's a great feeling, isn't it?

Well, now go back and watch one of those movies. Just watch a single one that you thought was great and simply classic when you watched it. You were young enough to dive into the sense of wonder you felt without the skeptic cynicism tainting the experience and the film for you. Now, it pales in comparison to smaller elements from more recent films, it just tries too hard, and achieves so little ultimately.

Sure, there are some films that live up to both your nostalgia and pre-cynicism (Evil Dead 2, Halloween, Re-Animator, etc.), but they are certainly rare. What's great about "I Drink Your Blood" is that it immediately elbows it's way into that category.

This film puts a hand on the shoulder of Nuke 'Em High and asks the Billy Jack series to give it a nudge against The Lost Skeleton of Cadavera in the stands at the Friday Night High School Football Game. When they're making out underneath the bleachers, I Spit On Your Grave interrupts jealously.

As you watch the film, there is the strongest sense that it knows exactly what it is. The movie is self-aware in that every aspect of it works like the perfect little gear in the machine. What results is a fantastic horror film that is both gory and cheesy and finds an implied humor in-between the two. This is not a film where nothing happens for most of the screen-time. Every scene is either handing you bad-acting gold or giving you a solid gore handshake over a business deal.

Those elements spring from the simplest of scenarios. It all revolves around a fun-loving group of devil-worshipers who hurt an old man by sharing their illegal drugs with him and unwittingly eat some rabies-pie baked with a slight hint of "grandson revenge" in the crust. Their ensuing murderous rage sets the stage for greatness.

In other words: watch this movie. Soon.

You're Welcome

Troma-tically Insane

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein


I don't get it. That's about the most personal admission I can make about Troma movies.

There are elements that I get, on principle. Bad acting? I'm a fan. Incomprehensible plot? Count me in.

There's just something about their own self-congratulating that I can't get behind. The charm revolves around these movies patting themselves on the back for being bad movies, while doing their best to be a bad movie. That's fine for a single film. But for every single film under an entire banner of films, that is just a bit much. Even the Godzilla films tried to do something differently as each "series" passed.

Seriously though, watch Sgt. Kabukiman. I promise that there will be multiple moments where you ask yourself how in the world these scenes were rehearsed (if they were), planned out, and shot. That is great, great fun. But it's exactly the same sense of wonder you had when you were watching The Toxic Avenger for the first time, or Class of Nuke'em High. The feeling doesn't change, and that's why watching more and more Troma movies just doesn't make a lot of sense. Sooner or later, laughing the laughs just seems like giving Godzilla a buck for stomping Tokyo. It's simply what he SHOULD do for the money, not what you're paying him to do.