tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47057314264892743242024-03-25T14:45:38.060-04:00The End of SummerMusings on the darker side of movies, music, literature, and other oddities. TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.comBlogger1671125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-5804383085511706792024-03-03T15:12:00.001-05:002024-03-03T15:12:07.013-05:00NOW SPINNING: ANCINE'S DEATH HYMS<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSHDhektQqszrSfwzo0Ca8CukfMjgZmFbAlmE2xydwZ5E5afD6B4QYOpeR7iHS99NEfkb_39xoJwMY3Pv9ZUpzXcsrTjt_FtxBN9wRrw57x0thDmzGB5B62Gssof5hHv1V2mC6PD_eeRGXjeR2AZB6MLROdeuotHab_3BfupBRc3jCSpHLf9cUs4EYKI/s800/02%20-%20Portrait.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="800" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSHDhektQqszrSfwzo0Ca8CukfMjgZmFbAlmE2xydwZ5E5afD6B4QYOpeR7iHS99NEfkb_39xoJwMY3Pv9ZUpzXcsrTjt_FtxBN9wRrw57x0thDmzGB5B62Gssof5hHv1V2mC6PD_eeRGXjeR2AZB6MLROdeuotHab_3BfupBRc3jCSpHLf9cUs4EYKI/w640-h632/02%20-%20Portrait.png" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm always on the lookout for creepy music to listen to late at night when I'm reading, writing, or self-medicating from the horrors of being alive in the Year of our Nonsense 2024. Enter artist Mike Giallo, also known as Ancine, with a collection of creepy music that fits that bill. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Similar in style to <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/search/label/lonesome%20wyatt%20and%20the%20holy%20spooks" target="_blank">Lonesome Wyatt and the Holy Spooks</a>, another artist I've covered a few times on this blog over the years, Ancine's debut EP, <i>Death Hymns: Book of Desolation</i>, treads similar ground while bringing with it a grungier and fuzzier experience.</div><p></p><p>From the artist's bio:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Morose, raw, and dark. From the land of H.P. Lovecraft, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the birthplace of Edgar Allan Poe, Ancine delivers Gothic Americana with a decided New England focus. Mixing delta blues, dissonant reverb-drenched goth rock, and just a bit of Nashville twang, Ancine’s sole member, Mike Giallo, has created a visceral, yet hauntingly beautiful form of American roots music with a deep admiration for the macabre.</i></p></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Death Hymns: Book of Desolation</i> is now streaming on Spotify and <a href="https://ancine.bandcamp.com/album/death-hymns-book-of-desolation" target="_blank">Bandcamp</a> for your listening (dis)pleasure. I encourage you to follow the artist and see what other nightmares he dredges up in the future. Could a <i>Herbert West: Re-Animator</i> concept album be far off? A boy can dread.</p><p><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/album/6SY3PtndoejdLLx6YmcDUU?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFK7B7iyvioPhnIWiuuZVZq7YzxUfggBQmRNc_DYZoL66RYIvZgdMX0Vt4Oufge-qqpDyO2nbpQviir5SeKD2yucGmu31NlTWAZHFi96N4X1TK0VaUWoTcVpk-2NjW8Vb6GklRWhqplSZB_OkkBg7vhyphenhyphenK4b_l9IWWRfGnBhgNg-5hvfxgtp9HEXqEzKw/s1500/01%20-%20Cover%20Art.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFK7B7iyvioPhnIWiuuZVZq7YzxUfggBQmRNc_DYZoL66RYIvZgdMX0Vt4Oufge-qqpDyO2nbpQviir5SeKD2yucGmu31NlTWAZHFi96N4X1TK0VaUWoTcVpk-2NjW8Vb6GklRWhqplSZB_OkkBg7vhyphenhyphenK4b_l9IWWRfGnBhgNg-5hvfxgtp9HEXqEzKw/w640-h640/01%20-%20Cover%20Art.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69X5XJb2ddIJLEgsLUQmZmQFhljNtkiFzCM3juEba82fzvtQrhXCI4qjY2-z3eBoHF4b2WMfjfpQpqOrIwigCOOHhLpp3czMPcyZ-3P55NkB2i_hpz7zy8aj9O1A4p040U1fLDIROs9_76gV4KdrB0ysHiB4pyyT_puXkuIWFUq6lNFmyva0O9J6f2Nk/s3900/02%20-%20Back%20cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3900" data-original-width="3900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69X5XJb2ddIJLEgsLUQmZmQFhljNtkiFzCM3juEba82fzvtQrhXCI4qjY2-z3eBoHF4b2WMfjfpQpqOrIwigCOOHhLpp3czMPcyZ-3P55NkB2i_hpz7zy8aj9O1A4p040U1fLDIROs9_76gV4KdrB0ysHiB4pyyT_puXkuIWFUq6lNFmyva0O9J6f2Nk/w640-h640/02%20-%20Back%20cover.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2lko-3FZGZKnuw3ROoy3SgcvSTEamtjb-349xEa-0VJ2z4SGHiKZuzvsAbAGEPOzlqTbmRBd46Ip_FsemjfW6fTOmtCZRIe10CiwBe21zxJY4DU_9SWcNdNbDFks083rTDmMGNlBDGE9avKkdI-2162bdxPWgj0iZr86_OtQN4L2F8xdIv-0atKrtxE/s1200/04%20-%20Inside%20Jacket%20%231.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2lko-3FZGZKnuw3ROoy3SgcvSTEamtjb-349xEa-0VJ2z4SGHiKZuzvsAbAGEPOzlqTbmRBd46Ip_FsemjfW6fTOmtCZRIe10CiwBe21zxJY4DU_9SWcNdNbDFks083rTDmMGNlBDGE9avKkdI-2162bdxPWgj0iZr86_OtQN4L2F8xdIv-0atKrtxE/w640-h640/04%20-%20Inside%20Jacket%20%231.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQfuKiqyBATRdwldjocZ4PtfVKah2D3Vh4XPzNMgkYgKMX9UXtj07S_bFc3GHtpv58x_wbK5ZGqFByD1WHRLU-8se7cOkLjx0w9tESMEJJebmb3giXkkGrTylbcZ76d3yagY1XvAPlStYCRDnVDRNoayd4OxUdoPAGTwW7yPJ_VnkIk70vG_fHZWKUeg/s1425/05%20-%20Inside%20Jacket%20%232.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="1425" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQfuKiqyBATRdwldjocZ4PtfVKah2D3Vh4XPzNMgkYgKMX9UXtj07S_bFc3GHtpv58x_wbK5ZGqFByD1WHRLU-8se7cOkLjx0w9tESMEJJebmb3giXkkGrTylbcZ76d3yagY1XvAPlStYCRDnVDRNoayd4OxUdoPAGTwW7yPJ_VnkIk70vG_fHZWKUeg/w640-h640/05%20-%20Inside%20Jacket%20%232.png" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-28983718271674273632024-01-29T13:44:00.001-05:002024-01-29T13:53:23.907-05:00N/M<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEs4tPUbDfbpPGWupqCNtu2PfMgAX5S-KWfF6xx-4IsSplWh94_yjGAV3_2akS_pgeGUGlnu2A1xU25oe7n5x0oYEM4ociMucCdjZESqajDCM9Md4cqAqEHd-rA7FDGvitpv2jLLNrE9krVyLIb-_ExksTD671W_IJf-hiQEHOol9J58_6aa0s2hvNwkU/s480/IMG_4920.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEs4tPUbDfbpPGWupqCNtu2PfMgAX5S-KWfF6xx-4IsSplWh94_yjGAV3_2akS_pgeGUGlnu2A1xU25oe7n5x0oYEM4ociMucCdjZESqajDCM9Md4cqAqEHd-rA7FDGvitpv2jLLNrE9krVyLIb-_ExksTD671W_IJf-hiQEHOol9J58_6aa0s2hvNwkU/w640-h320/IMG_4920.gif" width="640" /></a></p><p></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-672194129850782622023-10-11T12:52:00.004-04:002023-10-11T12:54:59.269-04:00HALLOWEEN TUNES '23<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3Gh3B4-G0WUJlNDXXSUmImyql9bXR9PYsWmLbpMdNys-stezkYXHxzU9gB1-4ZW1XPdTrmyqdHLBenRuFgr7qqH6VA-PYb1ThL0KsU9DSFfPKop3qSpj9GerRuvjLVRgqI9XP4tj_qU3vvyWDA7DTqlIIUmIC25Fi2DaAJiF7L-ikjxrBBjgUHtNncM/s1830/halloween2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1830" data-original-width="1825" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3Gh3B4-G0WUJlNDXXSUmImyql9bXR9PYsWmLbpMdNys-stezkYXHxzU9gB1-4ZW1XPdTrmyqdHLBenRuFgr7qqH6VA-PYb1ThL0KsU9DSFfPKop3qSpj9GerRuvjLVRgqI9XP4tj_qU3vvyWDA7DTqlIIUmIC25Fi2DaAJiF7L-ikjxrBBjgUHtNncM/w399-h400/halloween2023.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The yearly Halloween tradition. Click through below to access the full 2023 playlist along with all those from years past.</div><div><br /></div><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="352" loading="lazy" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4zJn1xwPYt3IWfaEAEzcnj?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-85571161636648871332023-03-10T16:19:00.003-05:002023-03-10T16:19:34.608-05:001800's BEER ADS ARE THE G.O.A.T.<p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BJEtwMuxAXovOhXXR7zbm1UHFh5DtjNpcbBREYDgp1NWYo4de6-OvvooyOO-K95ijSZqBFkD-dgeTefik4HsjpH-JeoIxkBermPJDY6ZR9G60EvAuTLLSPjbrRvszGbuRAg5YFVDN5mtbln9-RIUjeLLeqQ6jSe-gXCgtCIl-nWmJ92BL9OIVOuj/s1600/bock-bier-goat-jumping-over-barrel-marked-with-title-a58e36-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1260" data-original-width="1600" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BJEtwMuxAXovOhXXR7zbm1UHFh5DtjNpcbBREYDgp1NWYo4de6-OvvooyOO-K95ijSZqBFkD-dgeTefik4HsjpH-JeoIxkBermPJDY6ZR9G60EvAuTLLSPjbrRvszGbuRAg5YFVDN5mtbln9-RIUjeLLeqQ6jSe-gXCgtCIl-nWmJ92BL9OIVOuj/w640-h504/bock-bier-goat-jumping-over-barrel-marked-with-title-a58e36-1600.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I found this series of brewery ads from the late 1800s on the <a href="https://loc.getarchive.net/search" target="_blank">Library of Congress website</a> while doing some research on a project unrelated to bock beer and goats. The LOC is like the tumblr rabbit hole of public domain materials; before you know it, hours are lost while searching the most random terms. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">As for why bock beer was once, or still is, synonymous with goats, allow me to lazily lift an explanation from the website of <a href="https://www.anchorbrewing.com/" target="_blank">Anchor Brewing in San Francisco</a>:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i style="text-align: justify;">There’s a lot of lore surrounding bock beer. What is it? What’s up with the goat? How did it get its name? Is it really made from the residue at the bottom of the tank?</i><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>The beer we now know as bock originated in the Northern German city of Einbeck, probably as far back as the 1400s. By the 1600s it was being brewed in the Munich area of Southern Germany. The name “Einbeck” was pronounced as “Einbock” in the Bavarian accent of the region – and “einbock” means “billy goat” in German. Shortened to “bock,” the name remains with us today, as does the visual pun of the goat on the label.</i></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Some of these are definitely destined to become wall art somewhere in my abode...bulbous, pendulum-like goat balls notwithstanding. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG5YSgWWVESpzhwaEfPW-1HTqwJLrez-RVsIdI4wi6i6ubr6Q6nw-nkNKA5GjLFHwtfEhxqeeeqp0Yd0g6MtzzoMcGwTyUbbY9h3Sm_WjInfpe52Z_R6fRt-_GgH36Xmz7EF66PArXXYky_8WsqO2vraU4XLrkX4aHlTk4bw1htp7DAQM52_-ju-5q/s1600/a-oldbairisch-dirndel-un-a-luschdiger-bua-bock-bier-a-moast-un-a-samldersu-cc2de3-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1218" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG5YSgWWVESpzhwaEfPW-1HTqwJLrez-RVsIdI4wi6i6ubr6Q6nw-nkNKA5GjLFHwtfEhxqeeeqp0Yd0g6MtzzoMcGwTyUbbY9h3Sm_WjInfpe52Z_R6fRt-_GgH36Xmz7EF66PArXXYky_8WsqO2vraU4XLrkX4aHlTk4bw1htp7DAQM52_-ju-5q/w488-h640/a-oldbairisch-dirndel-un-a-luschdiger-bua-bock-bier-a-moast-un-a-samldersu-cc2de3-1600.jpg" width="488" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFj7j4M6s2jzkHCQXaGewMtHkGpH6xVL_UNmPFuzJU0PKB5ldPncjVMFLgmfwZmWr2SNzzn0lQuk4gQkzKDWprZ4y1jtmAnU26o4iWLto18ibrXgE-VqFxMTbm1QtTHr3D7qcP0n_EumGvX_PM518yZgSnULmw3JSTUMI5ZzemEpIJy1WhfBFXKLE/s1600/ballantine-and-cos-brewery-new-york-bock-beer-4b8885-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1148" data-original-width="1600" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFj7j4M6s2jzkHCQXaGewMtHkGpH6xVL_UNmPFuzJU0PKB5ldPncjVMFLgmfwZmWr2SNzzn0lQuk4gQkzKDWprZ4y1jtmAnU26o4iWLto18ibrXgE-VqFxMTbm1QtTHr3D7qcP0n_EumGvX_PM518yZgSnULmw3JSTUMI5ZzemEpIJy1WhfBFXKLE/w640-h460/ballantine-and-cos-brewery-new-york-bock-beer-4b8885-1600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7DRjfDeUmEWIrJiAQig5CKP9OCAzk_Ss0-1Rrm5N8X5P5Umz77fesD4JGrPo2M-DsLXlpR3GSC4PVcxWcAyy_8r3G8bsV_akB96h580deh09LgpdlB9rQMCBzVO7yWtgoID4WlHnlP7W5JVd-BYl9hHmWyRWdo3fWZpAzzjSVsXgLi-PopFWz23n/s1600/ballatine-and-cos-brewery-newark-nj-bock-beer-1888-king-bock-of-the-rock-eea833-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4io057NC7G6KI31CBg2aXsh9IyV_4tUg2mDOtPKSkY8f8gxUYWUs0ocoW1TNBrzqI6erLtbedEygyXi59iSxM6XEjsdOn5mc78_EdgQ92dcV7BoJ61w5-pmaCC9CXIjiMrTWCEj_MUyPbj6wclFddrFOsGlDvw8bnoksx8YcwKWZCqhoO15fNd-Ch/s1600/vienna-bock-panel-no-5-b40997-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="705" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4io057NC7G6KI31CBg2aXsh9IyV_4tUg2mDOtPKSkY8f8gxUYWUs0ocoW1TNBrzqI6erLtbedEygyXi59iSxM6XEjsdOn5mc78_EdgQ92dcV7BoJ61w5-pmaCC9CXIjiMrTWCEj_MUyPbj6wclFddrFOsGlDvw8bnoksx8YcwKWZCqhoO15fNd-Ch/w282-h640/vienna-bock-panel-no-5-b40997-1600.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWd6rpzARwehDP0821eoUoKVjEpthAGA2Hri1OQzKbuEwwKQrpDCKdqlvlhRcXx49GB0LE8CdXJtQIcfb_wFLDDpoKsAMmFWeQXrxbSPJ95UZxwiRBTaeoryctA-r9FILNxLeBwSRfBQ0FS9OjwKqd6mPjz74wsQ_5cVU_RK4dWTH8T-U3VVJ_PlQ/s1600/wainwright-brewery-buck-beer-st-louis-mo-367088-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWd6rpzARwehDP0821eoUoKVjEpthAGA2Hri1OQzKbuEwwKQrpDCKdqlvlhRcXx49GB0LE8CdXJtQIcfb_wFLDDpoKsAMmFWeQXrxbSPJ95UZxwiRBTaeoryctA-r9FILNxLeBwSRfBQ0FS9OjwKqd6mPjz74wsQ_5cVU_RK4dWTH8T-U3VVJ_PlQ/w426-h640/wainwright-brewery-buck-beer-st-louis-mo-367088-1600.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-90946463321387245832022-06-08T08:02:00.001-04:002022-06-08T08:02:33.466-04:00GAGE, WHAT DID YOU DO?<p style="text-align: justify;">I stumbled upon this artist's rendering of <i>Pet Sematary</i>'s Gage Creed via Twitter the other day and it's been living just behind my eyes ever since. Had this been inserted into the 1989 film adaptation, it would've easily been the scariest Stephen King film ever.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjt4PI9EW8Fp-xkZMgqzXhPqAif0_UIsB-0qkaLBgP_TojGtXSFPOwXleLSdWQg3YEyLi4GGYFFQzxemzTOTuuLquw0RyAZqEH5iKYx14HGCNWvQAHwgpoe-VrAGiuE9ez8MTvsAG6aezy4V2v7I0YNZxFaujrYFaEYATrhC2vE0iiu_rKkOZhTjx/s2048/gagecreed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2040" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjt4PI9EW8Fp-xkZMgqzXhPqAif0_UIsB-0qkaLBgP_TojGtXSFPOwXleLSdWQg3YEyLi4GGYFFQzxemzTOTuuLquw0RyAZqEH5iKYx14HGCNWvQAHwgpoe-VrAGiuE9ez8MTvsAG6aezy4V2v7I0YNZxFaujrYFaEYATrhC2vE0iiu_rKkOZhTjx/w638-h640/gagecreed.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Art by <a href="https://twitter.com/PencilMoose" target="_blank">Dan Peacock</a>.</p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-28633085705159101642022-05-24T22:03:00.004-04:002022-06-15T08:09:47.636-04:00HALLOWEEN PARTY (1989)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/8EAoXP678I8" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/8EAoXP678I8/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I love everything about this—just everything—from the borrowed soundtrack selections of <b>2001: A Space Odyssey</b> and <b>Halloween </b>(...and <b>Halloween 2</b>...and <b>Halloween 4</b>)<b> </b>to the laughter of the high-school-aged actors after they knowingly botch a line or fumble with the set decoration while fleeing in terror. This is charming as fuck. As FUCK. And I absolutely plan on loading this one up every October until this miserable world kills me to death. Welcome to your newest Halloween tradition, boneheads.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As for the plot, some kind of flanneled ghoul inexplicably rises from the grave and begins picking off local teens at a Halloween party down the road. I <i>think </i>said ghoul is given a backstory about being a murderous farmer who'd killed his family, but to be honest, it was kinda hard to make out. But it doesn't matter. It's the tops. It can't be said enough: I love everything about this. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Evidently, <b>Halloween Party </b>aired on Connecticut cable access in 1989, which I think is genuinely terrific because I'm sure writer/director David Skowronski and his creative team felt like gods that night. And they deserved to. This right here is better than most of the <b>Halloween </b>franchise.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Samples of this brilliance are below, but if you're not sparing yourself the lousy 38 minutes to watch the whole vid, you don't deserve joy. Plus, the very end has a blooper reel <i>and </i>the cast performing a dance routine to The Monster Mash!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">THE MONSTER MASH! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">C'MON!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWuqH_FnxjF9OvaYgorHVieSB4WnqrT9sBH7omwok4iN2ngjsHxuqd2eC5wu2Mgt7lOGcYgU-rwsjtPrdhEM6a7JcWxhz2qPgNUwFgqnnLUPggb7UCLwWR-XJ1tA274SyzZ1ShpxxW_c1HkXq__aWER0hFwcu0S08osbELFf0PWH2BiuTkEZj7UCX/s895/halloween-party-1989-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="895" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWuqH_FnxjF9OvaYgorHVieSB4WnqrT9sBH7omwok4iN2ngjsHxuqd2eC5wu2Mgt7lOGcYgU-rwsjtPrdhEM6a7JcWxhz2qPgNUwFgqnnLUPggb7UCLwWR-XJ1tA274SyzZ1ShpxxW_c1HkXq__aWER0hFwcu0S08osbELFf0PWH2BiuTkEZj7UCX/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-1.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJnShv3Z0Scbz_8fO7IdNkzq8Nox78Ub7sV4uWoTtTaEPE1NeDHoc08b-aFm47UqvWBWEy9n6UnL0Wpd8sDhj0kffaMivmvS1QFfqbI-rGW9bN1ysB7RoRCydQ-6UGFfnt-uycNWBQyGawtnC_hPqBjI6I3VhGG9ii5Xzj_GjZl5cvXjh0ir3l0qC/s892/halloween-party-1989-2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="892" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJnShv3Z0Scbz_8fO7IdNkzq8Nox78Ub7sV4uWoTtTaEPE1NeDHoc08b-aFm47UqvWBWEy9n6UnL0Wpd8sDhj0kffaMivmvS1QFfqbI-rGW9bN1ysB7RoRCydQ-6UGFfnt-uycNWBQyGawtnC_hPqBjI6I3VhGG9ii5Xzj_GjZl5cvXjh0ir3l0qC/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-2.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZvdH6AM6nhnnx5YeVJlftjtiNqia3QBjVTL4TbntAeYnnTsV0ekp7sBKbvTaBk2LH963ltW01feb5XAvTb9B319QGgkat1T8wWuwzy30BfNk3peDfrQcOM0c3hjYm6ld2CmDkoIuVONXo1r0eYuUbW4qecNjbnrhVV_3a-VlbVqaqj1Ix8fIw97I/s893/halloween-party-1989-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="893" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZvdH6AM6nhnnx5YeVJlftjtiNqia3QBjVTL4TbntAeYnnTsV0ekp7sBKbvTaBk2LH963ltW01feb5XAvTb9B319QGgkat1T8wWuwzy30BfNk3peDfrQcOM0c3hjYm6ld2CmDkoIuVONXo1r0eYuUbW4qecNjbnrhVV_3a-VlbVqaqj1Ix8fIw97I/w640-h436/halloween-party-1989-3.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGQiC6ZeFArEvna1AMM5sTnmJqRgQH6Z_ajlzLqfkkt3HNoJUsRo4B3sq0XihiP5jv02cwry4nLN5EHuff4XWjSDKleOT6OdyJp39ttZnbssJMds_wAiZagSfowka5amilDp3UvOHlUFWQczLmOtRG6nSUYJ06G5pzI1RzJFCSJsnPtjjWmidBMYd/s897/halloween-party-1989-6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="897" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrGQiC6ZeFArEvna1AMM5sTnmJqRgQH6Z_ajlzLqfkkt3HNoJUsRo4B3sq0XihiP5jv02cwry4nLN5EHuff4XWjSDKleOT6OdyJp39ttZnbssJMds_wAiZagSfowka5amilDp3UvOHlUFWQczLmOtRG6nSUYJ06G5pzI1RzJFCSJsnPtjjWmidBMYd/w640-h434/halloween-party-1989-6.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1ky3ee6H_89Mmvu3czZj9mlEUSpR3RKg_RJYQwTnqkTc87o7UqJMF9Gp_rgHcezNeZGpq9eHNWty3nYkOucQTba-tg8ZVU1Zqjko10y6B-LQd6gerZgLAWtyFhXW1qRupzk3ik7X4CMQ3Ss0Y2WvG8ve9dIM5y17sp2ftijBgD7tg5SZX-FGn4sR/s892/halloween-party-1989-4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="892" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1ky3ee6H_89Mmvu3czZj9mlEUSpR3RKg_RJYQwTnqkTc87o7UqJMF9Gp_rgHcezNeZGpq9eHNWty3nYkOucQTba-tg8ZVU1Zqjko10y6B-LQd6gerZgLAWtyFhXW1qRupzk3ik7X4CMQ3Ss0Y2WvG8ve9dIM5y17sp2ftijBgD7tg5SZX-FGn4sR/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-4.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8ncFq4ucC25D8HJ3PPZva9NldWIcBhNTHu3vKDBZGaQ_YhvO8Dzv94Lrf_QRvsKcJb27nySFBkkkGu4Kd_1uM1IBbn8Tnnn7wI976ifkZDfbfVIYJX9cjpS57cJesmXCMofRFj_o9TS3nfqm6WfRtmuuRdfFCNOHyTQHd-pFx922uCX--bQnqhjI/s895/halloween-party-1989-5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="895" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8ncFq4ucC25D8HJ3PPZva9NldWIcBhNTHu3vKDBZGaQ_YhvO8Dzv94Lrf_QRvsKcJb27nySFBkkkGu4Kd_1uM1IBbn8Tnnn7wI976ifkZDfbfVIYJX9cjpS57cJesmXCMofRFj_o9TS3nfqm6WfRtmuuRdfFCNOHyTQHd-pFx922uCX--bQnqhjI/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-5.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLYRT1g_RIfcgP_ft0J4gYkJ_LYIY7gUdKmGBomprZNEq9GM4ZsvKWPN4mokZkS3sqd5YdFtBdBEZcBF_aGcTaa3nGTr7A0UaeshdAcr9OZ3WPDR4o1hqyaYPIdkR4LI89w11EYAwIQMOWJEKMl7mlKYS57kq26utFK2L2OFwq13cb7b0zy_3ERhi/s899/halloween-party-1989-7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="899" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLYRT1g_RIfcgP_ft0J4gYkJ_LYIY7gUdKmGBomprZNEq9GM4ZsvKWPN4mokZkS3sqd5YdFtBdBEZcBF_aGcTaa3nGTr7A0UaeshdAcr9OZ3WPDR4o1hqyaYPIdkR4LI89w11EYAwIQMOWJEKMl7mlKYS57kq26utFK2L2OFwq13cb7b0zy_3ERhi/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-7.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgPtnPM-yFMlDxIMY3wit822LT3yDNIJYrxWGND5IoL2x77QeTqptkoiWen4wCE0m7bReT0Bo7AnvAA2mLVXZJR3UUWwp_RtvP4goP5EM6QomiwVo8_NCzuUpmvchZwdW6pqJQ8bdGjCtLRuZtEnIOuRyxv7Cgj4Sw0z3AaBvZmGXQKIOJfoZ-cFi/s898/halloween-party-1989-8.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="898" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgPtnPM-yFMlDxIMY3wit822LT3yDNIJYrxWGND5IoL2x77QeTqptkoiWen4wCE0m7bReT0Bo7AnvAA2mLVXZJR3UUWwp_RtvP4goP5EM6QomiwVo8_NCzuUpmvchZwdW6pqJQ8bdGjCtLRuZtEnIOuRyxv7Cgj4Sw0z3AaBvZmGXQKIOJfoZ-cFi/w640-h434/halloween-party-1989-8.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2YqypFkS_w9wZMZF8BpXKYsoni9FFbEKy4Zmk3C18jMJnnqyUmnV8Tc7qwizS5rhhp9_JpFZ8fdUbDwGl9HplYbdEtWkIZgU2Mw3O6HgzA8EvwoeenEosMYWS_tR5so0dO1AMknOzrF5etp8cEBiHqJy0jf7e1wuT9Gzz9uicH2qN2HTKfXNJFhO/s985/halloween-party-1989-13.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="985" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2YqypFkS_w9wZMZF8BpXKYsoni9FFbEKy4Zmk3C18jMJnnqyUmnV8Tc7qwizS5rhhp9_JpFZ8fdUbDwGl9HplYbdEtWkIZgU2Mw3O6HgzA8EvwoeenEosMYWS_tR5so0dO1AMknOzrF5etp8cEBiHqJy0jf7e1wuT9Gzz9uicH2qN2HTKfXNJFhO/w640-h450/halloween-party-1989-13.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7F3u8i-aLvMeDkn1Dce14A1FKxxujfBijVP43JhFUTug2PJib8PQ4rc25rffrmG1QIyGIQ3znCGNSyob3MguNb3_Pcf26SVPTHd-wNzEx-tlB3TkZoOhBCXPvCEVsFuPxfa0g3C6XW0N8mE5nIDPlfIRHoWulVUySqrvHYMAdTPApYHbDk_J16y/s898/halloween-party-1989-9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="898" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI7F3u8i-aLvMeDkn1Dce14A1FKxxujfBijVP43JhFUTug2PJib8PQ4rc25rffrmG1QIyGIQ3znCGNSyob3MguNb3_Pcf26SVPTHd-wNzEx-tlB3TkZoOhBCXPvCEVsFuPxfa0g3C6XW0N8mE5nIDPlfIRHoWulVUySqrvHYMAdTPApYHbDk_J16y/w640-h432/halloween-party-1989-9.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-3579471387337666172022-04-21T11:39:00.004-04:002022-04-21T11:39:32.670-04:00VCR HORRORS (1987)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Hv78v1nnWVU" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Time capsules like these are always amusing and occasionally irritating to revisit. If you came of age in the late '80s and early '90s like I did and grew up watching the titles featured in this exposé, you'll note immediately how wrong-headed much of the talking points are, collected from alarmed parents and so-called experts who are clearly grasping at straws and making points after having seen, at best, five horror films. 1974's <b>The Texas Chain Saw Massacre</b> is specifically noted as being one of the first films to introduce the aspect of graphic violence to the horror genre, essentially putting to bed more chaste films like <b>Psycho</b> and <b>Frankenstein</b>. Of course, if you know a single thing about the genre, you'll know that <b>Chain Saw Massacre</b> is actually very low on violence, at least on-screen, and features exactly <i>one </i>chainsaw murder, most of which is left to the imagination. Though these parents admit in the same interview that they had "no idea" how graphic some horror films were until they sat down and watched them specifically for this report, they still managed to rattle off oversimplifications of horror's main thrust, which is "rape and torture," in which most of the victims are females, and that most of the kill scenes have a sexual connotation behind them. I dunno, you tell me: this was the '80s, after all, a time in which the majority of on-screen sexual trysts featured a girl <i>and </i>a boy. You mean to tell me the boyfriends escape the killer while the girlfriends fall victim? Have you <i>seen </i>a slasher movie before?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Though this report does feature notable pro-genre people like Linnea Quigley and critic Chas Balun, both of their collected soundbites are limited to out-of-context blurbs that only support the main thesis. Quigley rattles off every way in which her characters bit the dust in her past movies while Balun just sounds like a mimbo, telling the audience kids want faster and louder horror experiences because of MTV. Good grief.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Refreshingly, the report ends with a level-headed and rational argument for why horror films aren't the scourge of society that most of the talking heads argue and shouldn't be blamed for motivating real-world violence...which comes courtesy of a ten-year-old kid. Go figure.</p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-53618328367022244802022-04-07T14:00:00.001-04:002022-04-07T14:00:00.244-04:00SCREAM (2022)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcD-GIBhCSTHHnBVWQuHqLrYN7A4-Jt2Zq69r2EfpZMSKPaP47Vne-pupZymHxBZrECGdPLBnH9E4HLVRtBJ_9BZ-u-hcWT5pU11ToC-IGYPzDkBNtRE40PcU8R5yxBf3JQl6c9FvZWzh0ExUQvmXBKAQDZWZD7Y3OrKytS4Ir2eppePZBJcylcgE/s1417/scream-2022-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1417" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcD-GIBhCSTHHnBVWQuHqLrYN7A4-Jt2Zq69r2EfpZMSKPaP47Vne-pupZymHxBZrECGdPLBnH9E4HLVRtBJ_9BZ-u-hcWT5pU11ToC-IGYPzDkBNtRE40PcU8R5yxBf3JQl6c9FvZWzh0ExUQvmXBKAQDZWZD7Y3OrKytS4Ir2eppePZBJcylcgE/w640-h480/scream-2022-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">For the longest time, when a filmmaker took a preexisting film and offered a new but familiar version, it was called a “remake.” At some point around the early 2000s, after the success of <b>The Ring</b> and <b>The Texas Chainsaw Massacre</b> opened the floodgates and inundated audiences with the maltreatment of their most beloved titles, that particular term became a profanity, so someone coined a new word for this remake evolution: “re-imagining.” Enter <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2013/10/halloween-shitty-flicks-rob-zombies.html">Rob Zombie’s woeful <b>Halloween</b></a> and Zack Snyder’s much better <b>Dawn of the Dead</b> — movies that contained mainstay characters, settings, and concepts of their originals but otherwise explored different directions utilizing different tones. Once movie fans grew wise to “re-imagining,” filmmakers began bending over backwards to avoid saying any of those R words, like the makers behind 2011’s <b>The Thing</b> who tried a new tactic of flat-out lying about what their movie was by hiding behind the false flag of “prequel,” but beyond giving most of its supporting cast Swedish accents (“They’re Norwegian, Mac”) and putting an ax through a door, it otherwise followed very closely in the snowy tracks of Carpenter’s movie, step for step and right down to its moniker. Following that, <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/04/halloween-2018.html">2018’s <b>Halloween</b></a> came along to rebrand the term once more. After 1978’s <b>Halloween</b> had been sequelled to death, <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">Halloween: H20</a></b> had softly retconned the series back to a cleaner jumping off point, <b>Halloween</b>: <b>Resurrection</b> had killed off Jamie Lee Curtis’ Laurie Strode, and Rob Zombie had made a prequel and remake in one shot, something newer was required: though generally called a “reboot,” its makers described it as a “recalibration” or, ugh, a “rebootquel” – something that resurrected an old franchise, retconned it just a tiny bit, and created a world where old met new. So what do you do when returning to a franchise like <b>Scream</b> when it’s been in on the joke this whole time? One constructed from the very DNA of the horror film and the many different faces it wears? What do you do when your horror franchise is the equivalent of the kid in the back of the classroom throwing insults at all the other horror franchises for all the ways in which they’re cliches? Well, you do what you’ve always done: embrace the warts of this wacky genre while giving it a fresh spin. And given the <b>Scream</b> franchise’s meta approach that saw it sending up slashers, sequels, trilogy cappers, and remakes, 2022’s familiarly monikered <b>Scream</b> necessitated a new term for a franchise rebirth that still acknowledged every single one of its previous entries. Anchored by a new primary cast with supporting duties from the old guard (including minor characters from previous sequels you’ve forgotten about), and with all of them being terrorized via phone by the gnarly voice of Ghostface once again, <b>Scream</b> ‘22 called itself a “requel.” </p><p style="text-align: justify;">But I’d call it a “redial.”</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XL8iVhdY7HOv5yn7dIINsuOKlZLHva4xgxd6mxruAEqIho-s9MfnACYSuicIi9tZgqJhqLTiVeweV8XtPhsHDySEW6LnBmn1hEbjenL2r5u9LCtEI7AxMsbhKpFqU7iIw8Mm2NU0-uG69quc_PiM_7IziYOdIoWnTNQLM4eyKQP5jLJXQevu7Pmv/s1200/scream-2022-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1200" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XL8iVhdY7HOv5yn7dIINsuOKlZLHva4xgxd6mxruAEqIho-s9MfnACYSuicIi9tZgqJhqLTiVeweV8XtPhsHDySEW6LnBmn1hEbjenL2r5u9LCtEI7AxMsbhKpFqU7iIw8Mm2NU0-uG69quc_PiM_7IziYOdIoWnTNQLM4eyKQP5jLJXQevu7Pmv/w640-h450/scream-2022-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Whatever you want to call it, <b>Scream</b> '22 is a true return to form for the franchise and the best entry since 1997’s rushed-but-satisfying <b>Scream</b> <b>2</b>. Free from the meddling hands of former rights-holders Dimension Films (aka the Brothers Weinstein) and under severe pressure to follow in the footsteps of Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson, directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett (<b>Ready or Not</b>) and writers James Vanderbilt (<b>Zodiac</b>) and Guy Busick (<b>Castle Rock</b>) have proven themselves eerie chameleons, recapturing Williamson’s snappy dialogue and mind-bending knowledge of the genre’s rules and Craven’s fastidious eye for creating misdirection and off kilter unease, right down to his dramatic Dutch angles. (Williamson serves as executive producer and creative consultant.) With a new cast that spiritually embodies that groundbreaking first film’s crop of savvy teen characters (brought to life by Melissa Barrera, Jenna Ortega, Mikey Madison, Mason Gooding, and Jack Quaid, among many others), but with a new and more psychologically complex (and sympathetic) layer, the <b>Scream</b> name is back, updated, and most thankfully, in capable hands. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Though I grew up on a diet of ‘80s slashers mostly consisting of <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/09/happy-birthday-you-piece-of-shit-friday.html">Friday the 13th</a>, Halloween, </b>and <b>A Nightmare on Elm Street</b>, even all of their newest entries were nearly ten years old by the time I’d discovered them. Before their own ‘90s-set sequels and retcons, those franchises were, for all intents and purposes, dead and buried – grandfathered into my world in the same way everything else in existence had been. <b>Scream</b> was entirely different. With that first film hitting in the ass-end of 1996, and with two sequels coming along at a steady clip (<b>Scream</b> <b>2</b> opened a mere seven months after the first film left theaters), <b>Scream</b> became the slasher franchise of my generation – one with several entries released during my teen years that gave me the opportunity to see them unfold in an auditorium of like-minded people in the same way other lucky folks had the thrill of experiencing <b>Friday the 13th</b> sequels on a yearly basis. For me, the <b>Scream</b> series was happening in real time – it was in-the-moment as opposed to once-was – which imbued a different experience but also a different set of expectations. Having watched <b>Scream</b> in 1996 and seeing characters who were modeled to be just slightly older than I had been landed differently than watching <b>Scream</b> '22 and seeing new characters who are twenty years younger. Seen from a young age, <b>Scream</b> '96 exaggerated the pains of the coming transition from adolescence to adulthood – think <b>The Breakfast Club</b> but everyone gets stabbed to death. To an adult, <b>Scream</b> '22 doesn’t have the same effect; as your adult mind is analyzing the motives of the newest killer(s), part of you can’t help but think, “Oh, brother,” finding difficulty in accepting the outcome. While the motive(s) of the newest Ghostface(s) is admittedly clever, it doesn’t carry the same emotional weight as the original…because this time it’s not personal. In <b>Scream</b> ‘96, Billy and Stu used horror movies as a scapegoat to achieve other ends; in <b>Scream</b> ‘22, the sanctity of horror movies themselves is the driving motivation. And that right there is the number one issue brought forth by sequels, remakes, or any other label that resurrects your favorite franchises: the impossible task of experiencing the natural extensions of the originals you love, but having to process them with a mind that now thinks and feels differently thanks to twenty years of horror’s evolution and one’s own accumulated awareness. You can fall in love with a movie after a first matinee showing, but it takes time, sometimes years, to understand why – to deconstruct the way that movie feels, isolate its DNA, and identify its essence. <b>Scream</b> ‘22 recaptures the largest and most important parts of that unique <b>Scream</b> essence, and though it doesn’t recapture <i>everything</i>, it seems superficial to pick apart its shortcomings.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kiNFh0jmLm0C2-Bwf6gbKwAO7vQZh6zOinwCzr8OqY1SwaMLmIyDbDrrepkH2T6L7Fxg18Vi42AfBluT74MtZoeQrhQNe5q0WgdbS7HFBbX8S1jpwWT-_a1vFoMPiKP7yLzu5yc3O22tMVSf5gZiwJnTOqPxojUUjqvLc6OBwnbsMuV4HOYO8-yN/s740/scream-2022-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kiNFh0jmLm0C2-Bwf6gbKwAO7vQZh6zOinwCzr8OqY1SwaMLmIyDbDrrepkH2T6L7Fxg18Vi42AfBluT74MtZoeQrhQNe5q0WgdbS7HFBbX8S1jpwWT-_a1vFoMPiKP7yLzu5yc3O22tMVSf5gZiwJnTOqPxojUUjqvLc6OBwnbsMuV4HOYO8-yN/w640-h320/scream-2022-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Scream</b> ‘22 also lessens the bloat the franchise accumulated over the years, which got a little too big for its britches with 2000’s uneven and unmemorable <b>Scream</b> <b>3</b>, a production plagued by constant rewrites, leaked endings (the return of Matthew Lillard as Stu would’ve been WILD), and Craven and co’s over-willingness to have “fun.” (The Jay and Silent Bob cameo still makes me barf.) With this <b>Scream</b> story set back in Woodsboro, organically allowing for the presence of the next generation of characters with familial ties back to those from the first film (though it occasionally relies on soap opera hysterics to enable this), murder and mayhem is once again occurring in plain sight, beneath the bright sun, in broad daylight. The illusion of safety at which the <b>Scream</b> franchise always excelled has returned, whether it be in high school hallways, quiet suburbia, or your best friend’s rural farmhouse. But of course, <i>no one</i> is safe. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">From the opening scene, <b>Scream</b> '22 plays with audience expectations. Whether the series is old hat or a brand new experience, you never quite know what’s coming; similarly, surprises are in store for the old guard characters <i>and</i> the new, though for the old guard those surprises are going to register in more emotional ways. The kind of character who would most certainly die may just survive the night, whereas the kind of character who has <i>always</i> survived may not be so lucky this time. In spite of some minor plot contrivances, for the most part, once the characters know of the danger they’re in, they’re no longer running up the stairs but directly out the front door; however, once they discover their safe haven was never out that front door to begin with, that’s when the <b>Scream</b> series is most at home – and <b>Scream</b> '22 is the fresh and fun reminder that audiences and the franchise needed. Even the film’s score by composer Brian Tyler, taking the reins from former franchise keeper Marco Beltrami, acknowledges audiences are in new but familiar territory: the track that opens the flick is called “New Horizons,” which is not an eerie, ethereal theme we’ve heard before, but a soft and pensive ballad, and the score itself revisits some of Beltrami’s older themes while injecting some new ones into the mix. (Amusingly, it even adapts a theme famously used in <b>Scream</b> <b>2</b> that wasn’t an original composition, but had been lifted from Hans Zimmer’s score for <b>Broken Arrow</b>.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h9FPmrfTEKodqL9ayaDcvWwyB4LucFDIODyUKwRQkP61xI9Avxal9aXbmX7eVELjoL1KnhSG9JPebq8AsC1jjJQXjPnUv6UkPDqbdQs3Rc15G9btGplEKef60l2LmQeHquXSzLmTfNUyMwmqWUg54AKh1Oz_Xwinh6FFMMx_VJl-Xl2xkyh1pO-r/s1500/scream-2022-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1500" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h9FPmrfTEKodqL9ayaDcvWwyB4LucFDIODyUKwRQkP61xI9Avxal9aXbmX7eVELjoL1KnhSG9JPebq8AsC1jjJQXjPnUv6UkPDqbdQs3Rc15G9btGplEKef60l2LmQeHquXSzLmTfNUyMwmqWUg54AKh1Oz_Xwinh6FFMMx_VJl-Xl2xkyh1pO-r/w640-h350/scream-2022-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Most interesting, while <b>Scream</b> ‘96 was a riff on <b>Halloween</b> ‘78, <b>Scream</b> ‘22 acknowledges <b>Halloween</b> ‘18 while adhering somewhat to a new set of rules brought forth by this newest craze of resurrecting old horror properties – the “requel.” Being that <b>Scream</b> ‘96 satirized the first wave of creators, appropriately, <b>Scream</b> ‘22 satirizes all the different ways in which those initiators of the genre come back from the grave, along with whoever's along for the ride. Seeing Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, and especially David Arquette, who has always been the heart and secret weapon of the series, return time and again, even for the lesser entries, and even in the face of towering odds, feels right, and even necessary. A more traditional series would have eventually been forced to say goodbye to them, either by killing them off or writing them out, but <b>Scream</b>'s own DNA doesn’t have that problem – that trio is an integral part of the mythos, and every new killer that comes along KNOWS this. If Ghostface is the Joker, then Sidney, Gale, and Dewey are Batman, and he is always going to make sure they’re involved, thematically, in his newest scheme. It’s just not <b>Scream</b> without them, just like it’s not <b>Halloween</b> without Jamie Lee Curtis. And upon Campbell’s first appearance in the movie, in which she says, “I’m Sidney fucking Prescott, of course I carry a gun,” one can’t help but picture a gray-haired Laurie Strode doing target practice in the back of her Haddonfield compound. There’s a symbiosis in the horror world, and one that’s potent enough to exist without the need for official but forced “shared universes.” That <b>Halloween</b> inspired <b>Scream</b>, <b>Scream</b> reverse-inspired <b>Halloween</b>: <b>H20</b>, and that <b>Halloween</b> ‘18 is considered not just horror canon but provides a means for dissection in <b>Scream</b> ‘22 is the ultimate proof of that. However, unlike the <b>Halloween</b> series, which had the luxury of wiping away forty years of nonsense and directly sequelling the first film, <b>Scream</b>, luckily, already has its own <b>Halloween</b>-like, in-universe franchise to mirror that: the "Stab" series, through which <b>Scream</b> is able to not only critique the genre in general, but also critique itself in fun but honest ways. (One of the flick’s best bits has some of its characters watching footage from "Stab 8" on Youtube, which shows a muscular Ghostface laying waste with a flamethrower, as they remark that the series has really gone off the rails.) Though seeming like a funny, throwaway moment, it actually embodies what this new <b>Scream</b> is about: the harrowing goal of making a fan-driven movie <i>for</i> fans while knowing they’re going to hate you no matter what you try. But it’s also about saving a fledgling franchise after the piss-poor <b>Scream</b> <b>3</b> and underwhelming <b>Scream</b> <b>4</b> and returning it to its former glory…by any means necessary. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It’s been said that this newest crop of horror franchise rebirths – <b>Halloween</b>, <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/11/candyman-2021.html">Candyman</a></b>, <b>Ghostbusters</b>, and now <b>Scream</b> – lean too heavily on fan service and nostalgia as a means of forcing an emotional connection with the audience that it might not have necessarily earned. (<b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-kills-2021.html">Halloween Kills</a></b> is the guiltiest of this.) Regarding <b>Scream</b> ‘22, as with anything else, your mileage may vary. You may love the callbacks, cameos, and re-quotes, or you may think they’re lazy and heavy-handed. You may think the familial ties the new characters share with the old ones are bordering on eye-rollingly convenient storytelling, or you may remember that this is <b>Scream</b>, and if there’s ANY franchise that’s allowed to break those rules, you’re looking at it. Though I don’t think fan service and nostalgia is the scourge of modern cinema that others have been quick to proclaim, I will say it doesn’t sit well when it feels manipulative or uninspired. <b>Scream</b> ‘22 does the best at towing this line, and not just because its own genetic makeup allows for it. Regardless of how you may feel about each rebirth of your favorite horror property, I have no doubt each new generation of filmmaker genuinely loves the franchise they’ve resurrected, and were raised in video stores in the same way we all were, or even literally grew up on the sets of its previous movies like <b>Ghostbusters: Afterlife</b> director Jason Reitman. And when the filmmakers of this new <b>Scream</b> go to the trouble of bringing in a dozen cast and crew members from the previous films to lend their voices to a scene in which a fallen and aptly named friend is toasted at a high school house party, resulting in an emotional salute of “To Wes!,” the admiration for departed filmmakers, beloved characters, and long-running franchises can’t be justly denied. If you’re a fan, then you’ll know a small piece of trivia like that. Because you went looking for it. Because you read about it, or listened to a podcast, or watched an interview with the directors. It wasn’t on the screen and staring you in the face, waving to you from a place of plain sight. It was knowledge you had to earn, to validate your fandom, to know that little extra tidbit most others will never know – all to enrich this experience of revisiting a thing you’ve loved for so long.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Wes Craven may be gone, but he’s left behind an awfully large shadow. Against every odd, the makers of this new <b>Scream</b> were able to fill it. He would’ve been proud.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbx5P3NnDeITaHRUFYm_aoYc3lakwBLKHjDPhu_ILWifIcFoUe_5D-WfkLkXgy75Z7EGYeDtqCZxLc7FDQNabdULLU2L3kmKyrE5muZTAqRrZ_APRUzNdfiz66Z8Ml16dg1gIvBrMy1AOsdXyF8sotyUiazM9PLnRcberZzAEi3me7Qyliqj4vO9d8/s498/scream-2022-9.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="498" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbx5P3NnDeITaHRUFYm_aoYc3lakwBLKHjDPhu_ILWifIcFoUe_5D-WfkLkXgy75Z7EGYeDtqCZxLc7FDQNabdULLU2L3kmKyrE5muZTAqRrZ_APRUzNdfiz66Z8Ml16dg1gIvBrMy1AOsdXyF8sotyUiazM9PLnRcberZzAEi3me7Qyliqj4vO9d8/w640-h264/scream-2022-9.gif" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-55035945762919072632022-04-06T08:37:00.003-04:002022-10-12T10:36:42.431-04:00DARK NIGHT OF THE SCARECROW 2...?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5dqER14s1Xae9h8VOvSWlA6X22CZ9zJQ4ZJy6GSEn56382RPW11xPMISNabFnywYc4GZbJszynbL0kp3osSuuzYh2j65LhWXGm8JFHfWpg7CbrhLJDBweas2fnnNavYeFshlJzGOj1uJZTfpUzXBNKmJnlBYyY1QubB-Tboq17QDoEQczKpJgpjs/s2844/dark-night-scarecrow-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2844" data-original-width="1896" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5dqER14s1Xae9h8VOvSWlA6X22CZ9zJQ4ZJy6GSEn56382RPW11xPMISNabFnywYc4GZbJszynbL0kp3osSuuzYh2j65LhWXGm8JFHfWpg7CbrhLJDBweas2fnnNavYeFshlJzGOj1uJZTfpUzXBNKmJnlBYyY1QubB-Tboq17QDoEQczKpJgpjs/w426-h640/dark-night-scarecrow-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I don't know what to say other than this makes me want to sob. I can't believe they waited forty years to make...<i>this</i>. As someone who adores the original <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2013/10/halloween-unsung-horrors-dark-night-of.html">Dark Night of the Scarecrow</a></b>, this feels so wrong. Synopsis below and very upsetting trailer at the end.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i></i></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>The wait... is over! The Scarecrow is back with a vengeance. The sequel to J.D. Feigelson's pitchfork- perfect DARK NIGHT OF THE SCARECROW, "...one of the best made-for-TV horror films ever..." (Donald Guarisco, AMG Review) and one of the highest rated TV movies of all-time is finally here!</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Corn rustling, cicadas screaming, a crow watching as a farmer hears strange noises in his barn. He enters and looks around. Nothing. Suddenly a long, sharp scythe whisks through the air catching him between the eyes. Into this environment, Chris Rhymer (Amber Wedding) and her young son Jeremy (Aiden Shurr) have recently moved. It's a small country town in Stubblefield County. To locals she is a mystery. "Why", they asked themselves would she move to this backwater? Chris finds work in a country store and Jeremy is watched after school by an older woman, Aunt Hildie (Carol Dines). Hildie and Jeremy form a close relationship at the expense of Chris. One day, while looking for Jeremy, Chris comes upon an old, weather-beaten Scarecrow. Seeing how sad it looks, she puts a flower into its lapel to brighten it up, and thinking it only an inert effigy, she whispers her troubled past life into its seemingly unhearing ear. That night a dark figure enters her room as Chris sleeps and returns the flower. Unrealized by Chris, Jeremy has fallen under the influence of Aunt Hildie. We see that she is manipulating the Scarecrow through Jeremy. With his spirit, mentally challenged in life, the scarecrow only responds to children like Jeremy. Then the terror begins. As locals and Chris's past come to destroy her, they are met with horror and grisly death from . . . the Scarecrow.</i></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i></i></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="346" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/555285506?h=458a3233e9" width="640"></iframe></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-58612797341399671382022-02-16T20:18:00.005-05:002023-11-05T07:43:35.558-05:00I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS WITHOUT YOU: THE COMFORT AND CONSOLEMENT OF SAD AND SCARY CINEMA<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0yMlXy_yqFTSUWE6DwVqPxLmRSXLgTKRUTIgOA90qHqdQ2JhIyZzNej9DGR7bRbg8Q7JloKn1FR02Mtto6Tu-FxBlCavizjHFAFNACILxU1sHUpgLPiH46DXsqZ5gyoKIymg6LeOYmmvTipQ6IAgDY8tc16jd4RPzjGVu3VgGL9e-y0SZPL9cbice=s1000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="1000" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0yMlXy_yqFTSUWE6DwVqPxLmRSXLgTKRUTIgOA90qHqdQ2JhIyZzNej9DGR7bRbg8Q7JloKn1FR02Mtto6Tu-FxBlCavizjHFAFNACILxU1sHUpgLPiH46DXsqZ5gyoKIymg6LeOYmmvTipQ6IAgDY8tc16jd4RPzjGVu3VgGL9e-y0SZPL9cbice=w640-h386" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m a sad person by nature. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I
always have been, even as far back as when I was a child unable to notice or
identify the brood I carried for what it was. I wouldn't become acutely aware
of it until I entered high school, the age at which, I believe, we begin to
properly articulate those kinds of emotions for the first time through meeting
other people who carry their own melancholy and with whom we’re able to find
commonality in silent suffering; there was a comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone
and that other people bore similar burdens.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I don’t know what causes that
kind of sadness. Perhaps it’s undiagnosed depression or some other mental
malady I don’t have the fortitude to psychoanalyze, though this unofficial
self-diagnosis is supported by my constant feelings of inadequacy and paranoia
that can often worsen my ability to fully trust those closest to me. Or perhaps
I’m just a gloomy person too easily weighed down by the miseries of this world
and unable to counteract that misery with all the goodness that’s purported to
live here, too, with my feelings of inadequacy and paranoia the effect of simply
having been burned by too many people I trusted too many times. Whatever the
cause, others who feel this way sometimes say it can be a struggle to even get
out of bed in the morning. Though I’ve never experienced that particular
hurdle, I can attest there have been mornings when I’ve stood in my bedroom
only to remain there, unmoving, staring at the wall and wondering if anything I
was going to do that day was worth getting up for in the first place,
disillusioned by the notion there wasn’t a single thing on the horizon to look
forward to.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I often wonder what other people
who think and feel this way try to do about it. A person inundated by constant
gloom either external or internal may find ways to neutralize it, perhaps by
gathering with loved ones or spending meditative time alone to immerse in their
therapeutic artforms of choice, be it films, stories, or music, either as
audience or creator. It’s easy to assume those therapies would be light and
bubbly in their design, free of the heaviness and consequence that can weigh
down someone’s reality. After all, when an infant or toddler is crabby or sad,
we make funny faces or say silly words; we vanquish those negative emotions
through sheer but shallow will — a band-aid on a bad moment that the inflicted
doesn’t quite understand. Similarly, an adult, after a bad day, may come home,
crack a beer, and click on one of their favorite comedies in hopes of having a
laugh or two and chasing away the day’s hardships. Sometimes, for those people,
that’s enough to lighten the load.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I can’t do this. I’ve tried it in
the past, but the humor and escape that come from these kinds of dalliances are
fleeting. That’s not to say I’m some humorless grump who grimaces at the
nearest sign of levity as those around me laugh in unity because I adore comedy
as an artform; finding a conduit toward laughter is a vital part of this
existence, and there are titles I revisit with loyalty when I’m in the mood for
a ridiculous cackle session. (In case you were wondering, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Brady Bunch Movie</b> totally holds up and Jennifer Elise Cox’s
take on Jan is genius — how’s <i>that</i> for random?) It’s just that, once the
credits roll, all of that emotional oppression flows back in to reappropriate
the stake it’s previously claimed. Instead, to corral the demons that prowl my
subconscious streets, I lean into my sadness by exploring the sadness of
others, or the sadness they conjure with their creations. Because there’s
catharsis there, or validation, or the comforting communal acknowledgment that,
yes, sometimes life just isn’t fulfilling. Sometimes life is scary, or
isolating, or frustrating, or can feel entirely without hope and purpose —
especially nowadays in the year 2020: Part 3. Sometimes you can surround
yourself with family and friends and still feel alone, and sometimes the
crushingness of life can feel so constant that it’s easy to believe relief will
never come. So instead, you turn to a sad story to help you shoulder that
burden, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. For me, finding ways to
emotionally unload the bad mojo that shores up over time has become a new and
at-times necessary component to an old and well-established pastime. I used to
watch horror for the fear, thrills, and occasional silliness it offered, and
though I still look to titles new and old for those things, I now also look to
horror for a different kind of release.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Grappling with my sadness has
enhanced real-world fears I’ve always had, or created new ones never before
considered until my aging awareness looped them into the fold. My brain
antagonizes me on the daily, reminding me that all the things I’m scared of are
an inescapable inevitability. On some days, it seems as if my brain can’t <i>wait</i>
to bully me with these reminders, springing up out of nowhere when I’m mentally
occupied on the other side of the room. On some nights, when I’m asleep, my
dreams mutate into nightmares and flood with the kinds of images and themes I
do my best to evict from my conscious thinking. As each day passes, I become
more and more aware I’m getting older, which means everyone else around me is
getting older, too. And as these passing days become months and years, I’m
haunted with the knowledge that, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye to them
all — these people who have always been part of my life, who make up the
crucial elements that give life its own definition. Living with death isn’t
just suffering from someone’s permanent absence, but it’s also living forever
with the change it brings, from the intensive to the every-day mundane. For
whatever reason, I already seem to be suffering those absences before even
having lost those closest to me. When I think of my life now, and how massively
heavy it can sometimes feel, I then morbidly measure what that life is going to
be like once those people are gone, and I wonder how I’m going to navigate life
without them. And that scares me. A lot.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The concepts of passing time and
sad inevitability have infiltrated my writing before, sometimes by design, <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">like
comparing a tween kid’s pure excitement for the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> series’ <i>first</i> anniversary sequel with 1998’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">H20</b> versus an adult’s melancholic look at its <i>second</i> anniversary
sequel with 2018’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b></a>, or
sometimes those concepts emerge completely by surprise, like in what was supposed
to be <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/08/mutant-family-values-joe-bob-briggs-and.html">a mere celebration of Joe Bob Briggs’s storied history and his latest endeavor <b>The Last Drive-In</b></a> before it began wading into waters dedicated to
romantically honoring a long life lived embracing the horror genre. What it
proves is these thoughts and fears are always on my mind, and every so often I
have to find ways to purge them. I have to take these emotional obsessions and
somehow spin them into something positive (and schmaltzy), because otherwise,
what good are they doing for me?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjb95k3c4Z2TcqcOQZ4iNrJMQ1NTfC04pzctThBYKXXogTUUcLtGIwZ1Fla4WX4FaSh30_bSl0BqjWpWBK8NbtoVhpEqotXqSw6USJCwAL7-H0HzitmCiBoJpf8HWfTbGKCavcFaZJddcIh4PbY_SfQ4qSLafJbHJi1zlZS0faCK6QhLh8fuxrN1mLv=s1012" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="1012" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjb95k3c4Z2TcqcOQZ4iNrJMQ1NTfC04pzctThBYKXXogTUUcLtGIwZ1Fla4WX4FaSh30_bSl0BqjWpWBK8NbtoVhpEqotXqSw6USJCwAL7-H0HzitmCiBoJpf8HWfTbGKCavcFaZJddcIh4PbY_SfQ4qSLafJbHJi1zlZS0faCK6QhLh8fuxrN1mLv=w640-h418" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Thankfully, for someone like me
who prays nightly at the altar of the horror genre, there are so many stories
waiting in the wings of cobweb-ridden manors high on their haunted hills to
offer a comforting embrace and a crackling hearth to warm myself by after coming
in from the rain. In spite of the creaking floorboards and the glimpses of a
specter’s face in dark corners and the nightmares that swirl like cemetery mist
behind every closed door, it's a place where I feel most at home. It’s a place
where every kind of monster, maniac, and murderer can say, “It’s okay. We know.
We get it.” And they’ll close that manor door behind me, cutting off the cold
winds, sheltering me from the outside miseries, giving me haven to confront the
fears and sadness that hound me, and save me from having to face those demons
alone. Instead, we do it together — and together, it’s not so bad. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i>[<b>Note</b>: The titles for the films
and series to follow are mentioned before their spoilers come into play, so the
cautious reader has time to skip titles or bail out.]</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If there’s such a thing as a
cinematic soulmate, my own would be writer/director Mike Flanagan. A fan of his
since seeing his indie feature <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Absentia</b>
following its home video release (I messaged him on Facebook to inquire where to
find it in our recently post-video-store world and he was kind enough to
respond), I’ve made it a point to see every one of his directorial efforts. As
someone who has spent an entire life plunging deep into the horror genre,
watching the films of John Carpenter, Wes Craven, and George A. Romero, I can
say with confidence that Flanagan has remained the only artist with the
capability of scaring me viscerally and existentially while also tugging at my
heartstrings. From <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Oculus</b> and up to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Midnight Mass</b>, his films and miniseries
have consistently given me the creeps while also bringing me to tears,
sometimes with stirring lead-up and sometimes out of nowhere. The shining
example is his masterpiece, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting
of Hill House</b>, which I’d unhesitatingly describe as not just my favorite
Flanagan creation and not just my favorite Netflix production, but one of my
all-time favorite <i>anythings</i>. It’s one of the very few slices of cinema I both
love and fear watching in equal measure, even though I’ve run through the series
four times now, due to certain aspects that force me to confront not just being
haunted by inescapable emotional loneliness but also the very real possibility
that what’s awaiting us on the other side of death is absolutely, positively
nothing. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of Hill House</b> is an ambitious and revisionist
adaptation that reinvents the characters from Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel,
preserving their core constructions while transforming them into estranged
siblings of the Crain family who are brought together following the suicide of
their youngest sister, Eleanor (Victoria Pedretti), and who must then confront
their family’s tragic and untold history that led to her untimely end. To
unearth that mystery, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of
Hill House</b> explores two time periods concurrently; while the past centers
around wife and mother Olivia (a devastating Carla Gugino) and her crumbling
mental wellness after being gradually infected by the earworms of Hill House’s
sadistic ghosts, the present portrays how every Crain was forever changed the
night they fled Hill House, and how one of their numbers could no longer carry
the weight of the horrors they faced living within its walls. In that present,
Crain family patriarch, Hugh (Timothy Hutton), says the family is still being haunted
by the hungry supernatural forces of Hill House, while Steven (Michiel
Huisman), his oldest and most combative child, lays the blame for the family’s
suffering at the feet of mental illness. It’s not that the truth is somewhere
in the middle; the truth is it’s both. The novel by Shirley Jackson and the
1963 adaption <b>The Haunting</b>, directed by Robert Wise, left the ghosts to the
imagination, in some cases suggesting there may be no ghosts at all, and the
miniseries maintains that ambiguity to a different but no less substantive
degree. Make no mistake: while Flanagan’s Hill House is filled with specters,
many of them with horrifying visages, the ambiguity comes into play when
deducing how often someone in the Crain family is actually interacting with those
walking specters versus the ghostly depictions of their own internal fears, all
of which can hide in the night, in the dark, and pounce when they are alone and
most vulnerable. In the series’ opening episode that introduces Steven as a
writer of “preternatural” phenomenon, even while not believing in it, he
explains that ghosts aren’t limited to the spirits of the dead, but are often
“...a memory, a daydream, a secret; grief, anger, guilt,” and most times, “...a
wish.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0uOyjXIQh7z4Hq1wCCeX9eIRQoMkjdDtaAMIevnu2s-yfCGQtAbLJVA9IhB9abVhItK9h8RpQ535v0XvRNbyo2zpLl_OsGhBUh1q5Fwl6KPi9KwQ-NgJV3IRMmUIHZEUH33ouPV69Ct0NsOTPaTFbAuP5iiephSiF05f16u5w2gFFWClKGGswfiyr=s1476" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="876" data-original-width="1476" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0uOyjXIQh7z4Hq1wCCeX9eIRQoMkjdDtaAMIevnu2s-yfCGQtAbLJVA9IhB9abVhItK9h8RpQ535v0XvRNbyo2zpLl_OsGhBUh1q5Fwl6KPi9KwQ-NgJV3IRMmUIHZEUH33ouPV69Ct0NsOTPaTFbAuP5iiephSiF05f16u5w2gFFWClKGGswfiyr=w640-h380" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Though every episode contains
scary setpieces and emotional moments, the now-famous episode “Two Storms,”
primarily assembled from just five unbroken shots across fifty-seven minutes,
ingeniously wafts back and forth from present to past — sometimes in one
continuous camera movement — from Eleanor’s rain-soaked viewing to the
thunderous night she went mysteriously missing in the darkness of Hill House,
leaving her family scrambling to find her. In the present, the Crain siblings
squabble amongst each other in the funeral home, unable to set aside their
personal conflicts even while saying goodbye to their sister, so consumed with
their own dramas that they fail to see Eleanor’s bent-neck specter standing
just behind them; and meanwhile, in the past, little Nelly (an inexplicably soulful
Violet McGraw) is gone — disappeared by Hill House’s malevolence with no one
coming to her aid. Whether in the past or the present, Eleanor needs help; she
needs her family to see her, hear her, and rescue her from the encroaching
dark. “I was right here the whole time. I was right here and I was screaming and shouting and none of you could see me. ... Nobody could see me,'' little Nell says in the past with accusation in her voice and tears on
her face once she reappears, standing in the very Hill House foyer where she’d
vanished into thin air; these ominous words, a portent of things to come, echo
off her open casket in a future she’s mercifully unaware of...or maybe she is.
The juxtaposition of young Nell’s words alongside the still form of her
lifeless adult counterpart would be enough to shake any attentive viewer, but
when watching this scene through my own eyes and processing it with my saboteur
mind, the concept of a person needing help — of begging to be listened to but
being summarily unheard by those around them — doesn’t just hit close to home;
it obliterates the front door on its way in. Though Eleanor suffers the most
from her words unheard and her fears dismissed, at some point during the
miniseries, <i>every</i> member of the Crain family says the words “I’m fine,” trying to
reassure the worried and concerned in their immediate proximity that all is well, but none of them are remotely close. Everyone is fighting their own ghosts and
everyone has something they need to say — to the living <i>and</i> the dead. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Either its own separate beast or
possibly intertwined with the storm clouds that live over my head, I don’t
know, but I exist in constant fear of death — of my loved ones’ and my eventual
own. The rational part of me tries to kick in and assure me I’m still a few
years away from my forties and those kinds of fears are premature, but that
hardly ever gives me comfort. Friends of mine have already suffered the loss of
a parent, and in most cases from specific health issues that had nothing to do
with old age, but yet each instance has made me hyper-aware that such things
are coming. I try to take comfort in remembering that three of my grandparents
made it to their mid-nineties, with my grandfather living until an almost
unfathomable 102 years of age, and maybe my family has inherited those
longevity genes, but that doesn’t stop me from sometimes bolting upright in the
night from a full-on anxiety attack after having allowed the bleakest
perceptions of death I consciously keep at arm’s length to get too close. I
wrestle with the reality of living without those I love most, but I also wrestle
with another possibility that equally plagues me: that death is eternal black,
a forever of nothing but perpetual and shackled awareness I’ll never escape.
Though every single horror story is about facing mortality in some capacity,
I’d never witnessed something which showcased that particular fear like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of Hill House</b>.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXnTIUPrx8RAKj8y1G8ICwcTLMGEUNsxrmipSz-T--rdPpgLFShafhtB8qx8yGOSlWooDtHE49jyQtXxaE7QB_AruJ5q7svdh5sMWLv1KnB2pfzjYCU3cjTxrwzOa94-_UfhVDVono_--7up5iHIh7R13hu1CHIEeTqU-wazoJM0r8NCGHnjekxBoE=s1280" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="1280" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXnTIUPrx8RAKj8y1G8ICwcTLMGEUNsxrmipSz-T--rdPpgLFShafhtB8qx8yGOSlWooDtHE49jyQtXxaE7QB_AruJ5q7svdh5sMWLv1KnB2pfzjYCU3cjTxrwzOa94-_UfhVDVono_--7up5iHIh7R13hu1CHIEeTqU-wazoJM0r8NCGHnjekxBoE=w640-h314" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In “Witness Marks,” one of the
miniseries’ final episodes, the remaining Crain sisters are driving back to
their former childhood home when an ominous and shocking appearance of Nell’s
specter causes middle sister Theodora (Kate Siegel) to suffer a mental
breakdown where she lays out her ultimate fear: no afterlife, a neverending
death, the same forever-nothing by which I’ve been haunted for a long time. Her
ensuing monologue is my every fear up there on the screen, presented with
stunning specificity and personified with Siegel’s blistering performance.
Though it forces me to directly confront this thing I often try not to think
about, there’s a solace in knowing many of us grapple with our mortality — at
least those of us who don’t believe there’s a shimmering afterlife for us to
ascend to, something better than this complicated holding pattern of a world
where meaning and happiness can consistently feel out of reach. In the past,
I’ve found that engaging with people I know when it comes to these kinds of
existential fears sometimes returned unintended belittlement regarding why I’m
wrong to fear or believe what I do, so seeing that other people I <i>don’t</i> know
out in the world share this fear, either the writer who chose the words or the
fictional character who unburdened herself of them, was like being hugged by a
stranger. It was a show of empathy in the most unexpected place — on the side
of a cold and dark road with knees deep in the muck. It reminded me of the day
my family and I were in a fleet of limousines driving to the cemetery to bury
my grandmother, and as I happened to look out the window, I saw someone on a
bike pull up to the main road and stop, observe the hearse pass by, and make
the sign of the cross. This perfect stranger who wished my grandmother well on
her final journey has no idea how much that meant to me, let alone that I
noticed him at all. Though the aloneness of death and what comes after remains
a paralyzing agent for me, moments of compassion even among strangers is a
consolation that helps counteract those feelings of futility. (Besides,
Flanagan would later offer me hope in 2019’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Doctor Sleep</b> with a single but recurring line: “We don’t end.”)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Another title I love but which
gives me pause to revisit is 2018’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hereditary</b>,
written and directed by Ari Aster, which didn’t just disturb and horrify me in
ways no other horror film ever has, but rendered me emotionally catastrophic in
ways having nothing to do with spookshow terror. After suffering the accidental
and violent death of her young daughter, Annie (Toni Collette), who has already
been emotionally on edge following the recent death of her mother, finally has
the nervous breakdown she’s been resisting. Her mourning hits her like a
freight train as she unleashes indescribable suffering in the face of her loss,
but this isn’t the cinematic version of mourning we’ve so often seen. This
isn’t someone covering their eyes with the back of their hand and collapsing
onto a bed or falling into the arms of someone’s comfort. This is something
primal, something brutal, something that cuts in such a way that my first time
seeing it left me shell-shocked and feeling like I was seeing something I
shouldn’t be seeing, like I’d walked into the wing of the hospital where the
dying lay and their families watch, and that’s because when Annie is doubled
over in her bedroom, her body convulsing, her arms splayed across the floor in
front of her, sobbing and screaming in anguish at the top of her lungs that she
just wants to die because of how much it hurts...<i>I believed her</i>. Grief had
never before been portrayed in such a way, not in any genre, because this is
what <i>true</i> grief looks like. It’s unhinged, ugly, honest, and raw; it escapes
from us without grace, and without that dramatic filter that can so often make
on-screen grief look phony and melodramatic.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQlqB7x53WV9ytWCVgwwVyLlspBjxD5VzdVD5fXxmDW6y78Qj8fSK0fZUNr8xv8W62-hlBjM0urql7dAsY1qaxgNabVy_mA1x7L2w3DrnKB7AJjdta9F8Pa9AL3ED5tAab4AnhBLtv0wGFnpFXrzmWBrv_-Hc85BTv0d6MK29XuHJfGpNoUY2G10Dd=s1479" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="1479" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQlqB7x53WV9ytWCVgwwVyLlspBjxD5VzdVD5fXxmDW6y78Qj8fSK0fZUNr8xv8W62-hlBjM0urql7dAsY1qaxgNabVy_mA1x7L2w3DrnKB7AJjdta9F8Pa9AL3ED5tAab4AnhBLtv0wGFnpFXrzmWBrv_-Hc85BTv0d6MK29XuHJfGpNoUY2G10Dd=w640-h380" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Capping this sequence is the
fluid movement of the camera, the protective surrogate for an audience that’s
been caught off guard by this animalistic show of pain, which slowly pans out
of the room to give those of us witnessing this moment a reprieve. We’ve
trespassed on the most intimate moment a mother could suffer, and either from
that impulse to show respect and decency or to preserve our own mental
homeostasis, the camera guides us away and leaves Annie to her sorrow. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hereditary</b> offers more than a handful
of horrifying moments, from standard supernatural to shocking sadism, but for
me, there was no scene more terrifying than a fly’s-eye view of a person’s
genuine anguish. It’s the uneasiest thing I could ever think to witness again,
but I’m grateful it’s there now, burned permanently into my memory and cinema
history, because in a medium used for make-believe, that moment was true, and
ugly or not, the truth is crucial. The truth makes us human. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Though not strictly horror, and
perhaps barely touching its hand (it <i>does</i> have a monster, so give me a break),
2016’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b> holds the
dubious honor of being the first and only film I’ve ever seen that had me
spilling tears in its first thirty seconds, during which twelve-year-old Conor
O’Malley (Lewis MacDougal) is peering at the grave of his not-yet-dead mother
(Felicity Jones) in a cemetery that begins collapsing in on itself; soon, that
grave becomes a vortex, sucking her in, leaving her unseen except for her
flailing hands grabbing at his, putting on him the unimaginable burden of
trying to save her from a very decided fate. Free from this nightmare and back
in Conor’s waking world, his terminal mother is still alive, though her time is
running out, and in that waking world, there’s no hope. No miracle cure will
save her, and the power of love won’t be enough to snatch her from the brink
for a happy storybook ending. To rid himself of this pain, Conor repeatedly
escapes into a fantasy world inhabited by an ancient, massive yew tree (voiced
by Liam Neeson) who offers to tell him three stories…with the caveat that Conor
must tell <i>him</i> the fourth — not one of princes and kingdoms, but one containing
the very ugly truth Conor has been denying.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzIdXYfsH0qR4gLgfl1etpqeaukk-t25IG49FNaJJhcHSmw3IPKOonYJ4Wj42eOv4QHVs_kyne3LNsb4am-_-6s9r9DisuP8-gmAMys8mUwoSP5Txfo9PR7p090ZHmj52vYRL_AtqC2zUjwxdxmeJXCxeNKN8B1d73-vPXZpKaSYGanzniFn20-CUC=s1280" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1280" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzIdXYfsH0qR4gLgfl1etpqeaukk-t25IG49FNaJJhcHSmw3IPKOonYJ4Wj42eOv4QHVs_kyne3LNsb4am-_-6s9r9DisuP8-gmAMys8mUwoSP5Txfo9PR7p090ZHmj52vYRL_AtqC2zUjwxdxmeJXCxeNKN8B1d73-vPXZpKaSYGanzniFn20-CUC=w640-h356" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b>, director J.A. Bayona’s remarkable adaptation of
the novel by Patrick Ness, based on an idea by Siobhan Dowd, who died of the
same illness featured in the film before she could turn her concept into a
finished product, uses on-screen depictions of fantastical art and storytelling
as a means of coping with the death of a parent, and though it was conceived
for young readers, it doesn’t wear kids’ gloves when presenting the trauma
inflicted and the cross-generational impact on those left behind. A young child
losing a parent is, of course, a tragedy, but a parent losing a child, which
flies in the face of natural order, is equally tragic, and that’s what <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b> explores. Given its
themes and its dark but gentle approach, it’s essential viewing for the same
young age group to whom its novel was targeted, and made with the same daring
spirit as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Neverending Story</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Where the Wild Things Are</b>. Like other
stories where fantasy and reality collide, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A
Monster Calls</b> shows real-world aspects infiltrating Conor’s land of escape,
brought to life with beautiful watercolor characters and backgrounds, but with
sly symbolism that remains unacknowledged, from the blink-and-miss-it cameo by
Liam Neeson in a family photograph as Conor’s departed grandfather to the yew
tree he voices, which is known both for its healing properties as well as its
potentially poisonous ones…like those in the cancer drugs coursing through the
veins of Conor’s mother. Though <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A
Monster Calls</b> is assembled using purposeful fairytale tropes, its narrative
is informed by the real world that exists in millions of gray shades, where
there is no such thing as all-the-way good or bad, nor definitive right or
wrong. Eventually, fantasy and denial crumble, leaving nothing stable to cling
to, forcing Conor back into the real world to embrace that complicated balance,
accept there is no escape from hard truths and tremendous pain, and understand
that what he feels and what he does are very different things. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Also starring the genre’s beloved
Sigourney Weaver as Conor’s grandmother, portrayed as the archetypal evil-ish
queen of fairytale lore until her own grief is finally realized, this allegory
packaged in escapism and fantasy offers every real kid in the throes of losing
a parent, with all the very complicated emotions that come from that, an
invaluable lesson they should hear and take to heart: they’ve done nothing
wrong, it’s not their fault, and whatever they’re thinking and feeling is
perfectly normal. (I’d also recommend 2017’s kindred <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I Kill Dragons</b>, starring <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The
Conjuring 2</b>’s Madison Wolfe as the child in mourning, which explores the
same escapist themes in comparably emotional ways.) </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Had I been told before having
watched 2008’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b> that it
wasn’t a very clever and authentically made narrative film but a bonafide
documentary, I might’ve believed it – that what I was seeing was a genuinely
mourning family’s true account of their loss of daughter and sister, Alice
(Talia Zucker), and their subsequent haunting by her spirit. Written and
directed by the elusive Joel Anderson, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake
Mungo</b> is presented not as your usual found-footage compilation, but an
after-the-fact sit-down documentary regarding the Palmer family’s strange
experiences in their home following Alice’s drowning at a holiday outing. There
are enough spooky images and moments scattered throughout to properly offer a
creepy experience, but <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b>
isn’t interested in being outwardly horrific. It doesn’t ride on the kind of
hardcore scares essayed by other similar fake-o documentaries like <b>The Blair
Witch Project</b> or <b>Paranormal Activity</b>, and for long stretches at a time it’s not
even a horror film, but that’s because it’s more interested in chilling,
atmospheric, and lingering unease.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZgsydDc-Dgmopgty4GES6MW1_Sm_iHsKodlT3SHO8FbRo471OtK9fv0oBuVH4F3f4RfC3oPLrtexR5-q-wFxgxzsgnQuCtDo-gnSAfKsWd_bZVT2xHPtAS2bBJwfO-ugI5REmf9TEeVsY-QIMfy8Jt6zMElIysWBQkN1-Culi4mIY0B8R9n_v1EU0=s1024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="1024" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZgsydDc-Dgmopgty4GES6MW1_Sm_iHsKodlT3SHO8FbRo471OtK9fv0oBuVH4F3f4RfC3oPLrtexR5-q-wFxgxzsgnQuCtDo-gnSAfKsWd_bZVT2xHPtAS2bBJwfO-ugI5REmf9TEeVsY-QIMfy8Jt6zMElIysWBQkN1-Culi4mIY0B8R9n_v1EU0=w640-h434" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Equal parts ghost story,
true-crime mystery, and every-day drama, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake
Mungo</b> effectively depicts the Palmer family (the surname being an ode to
<b>Twin Peaks</b>, which also deals with the mysterious death of a young girl) as they
come to terms with never having known Alice as well as they’d always thought,
with this conflict especially exemplified by the relationship with her mother,
June (Rosie Traynor). Even in the face of Alice’s spooky appearances around the
house, in grainy video footage or photographs, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b>, really, is about regret, how those regrets manifest,
and how those manifestations can alter one’s perception of reality. While June
has the luxury of offering her measured and carefully curated regrets directly
to us, the camera and the viewer, Alice’s own regrets are shared in different
posthumous ways, making them scattershot, hazy, and ambiguous in their meaning.
But during the finale when the offered words of mother and daughter finally
mingle, overlain to retroactively have that conversation long overdue, the pain
of regret and missed opportunities comes through, ultimately making <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b> as mournful an experience as
a mysterious one. As the film comes to a close, even while still revealing more
secrets, the smallest part of you might believe what you’ve seen is real —
because if just a fraction of your brain allows for the existence of magic, it
could’ve been — and that’s far more frightening than any witch in the woods. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Having assembled these particular
titles revealed a completely unintended brotherhood between them, all of which
cement the universal themes of death, grief, and loss that many of us will
inevitably experience throughout our lives and the ways in which we’ll deal
with those experiences. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b>
leans symbolically on storytelling as a means of passing on our spiritual
essence to our lineage, but it’s also about the fiction we follow to fool
ourselves when we can’t reckon with the reality. “Stories are wild creatures,”
the yew tree explains. “When you let them loose, who knows what havoc they may
wreak?” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of Hill House</b>
is more direct, having Olivia comfort young Shirley (Lulu Wilson) as she buries
her perished kitten by encouraging her to eulogize her loss, explaining, “When
we die, we turn into stories, and every time someone tells one of our stories,
it’s like we’re still here for them. We’re <i>all</i> stories in the end.” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of Hill House</b> links
to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b> in its depiction of a
young girl with a need to tell her family who she really is while fleeing the
fear that lives within her shadow, and who is also being haunted by
premonitions of her own walking death — Nell’s bent-neck lady and Alice’s cell
phone footage, which somehow captures a foretelling of the crime scene photo
presenting her barely recognizable cadaver’s face. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lake Mungo</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hereditary</b>
share the concepts of secrets revealed by someone’s death, from their inward
suffering to their outward show of influence and dominance, from the emotional
ties that bind to the nefarious harm they can still do even in death. But
really, all four titles, from the dramatically driven <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b> to the cynically sadistic <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hereditary</b>, present the nature of grief and how it can transform a
family, for better or worse. Their commonality isn’t just death, but the way it
ripples across generations and how it can lead to rot and ruin when not
confronted and reconciled with the reverence it deserves. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Why horror?” gets asked a lot,
by critics, scholars, audiences, and fans. Generally, that curiosity comes from
wanting to know why we willingly subject ourselves to images that cause fear
and revulsion — things, in any other situation or venue, we spend a lifetime
trying to avoid. In response, it’s been repeatedly said, so often that it’s
become a cliché, that horror films are rollercoaster rides, and we buy a ticket
to ride because we <i>want</i> to feel that rush of fear and excitement. Wes Craven
said horror films are boot camp for the psyche and there is something contained
within those ghastly images and concepts that’s necessary for our psychological
wellness. John Carpenter often said that horror is the most unifying genre of
them all, in that what scares you is what scares me, that we’re all afraid at
some point during our lives, that fear will be the first and last sensation we
ever feel. Every genre has its own motives and characteristics, but horror is
the most honest of all because once you peel away its surreal and sensational layers,
it presents, bravely, what’s in store for us, either during the formation of
our lives or at their very ends. It shows us the pain we’ll endure, the lives
we’ll lose, and the moments we’ll fear. Though it may be filled with all the
ghosts and goblins we’re told from a young age don’t exist, horror also shows
us the reality that lives behind them. It shows us there are certain things, in
spite of the otherworldly imagery, we should believe — and belief, like Conor
O’Malley says in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Monster Calls</b>, is
half of all healing. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cinematic horror has been
haunting the world for a hundred years and it’ll haunt the world for a hundred more. It’s conjured demons into our
nightmares, ghosts into our houses, and boogeymen into our lexicon. But it also
gave us a scene where one mourning sibling says goodbye to another who now
walks in between worlds: </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I don't know how to do this
without you,” says Luke Crain in the final moments of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Haunting of Hill House</b>. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I learned a secret,” the
departed Eleanor responds. “There's no without. I am not gone. I'm scattered
into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Horror can be repulsive at times,
but it can also rejuvenate the soul. It’s the light that disinfects the
darkness. If those outsiders who ask “why horror?” can’t understand the concept
of <i>wanting</i> to be scared, they’d be downright baffled by someone wanting to be
scared <i>and</i> saddened by an outcast genre with the power to do both. For them,
horror is disposable. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But I couldn’t live without it. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwETkkHX9pI7HuE5NL06SKHp2S_KDaiy6rHYxKDYfVohQU01LS9bcYsSwrg0ciLubiQPJRs-Twi9mIk7KTE_M9mmSzV2impj5nDF8Oy5KGf2DazVKYflOAVEaOmNjezh5WLdDvt6mtxuXuJ7VIP-QuOC6cQeKcobqqIm8hDcv4WDQBdRbJL1sq02Ln=s500" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="500" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwETkkHX9pI7HuE5NL06SKHp2S_KDaiy6rHYxKDYfVohQU01LS9bcYsSwrg0ciLubiQPJRs-Twi9mIk7KTE_M9mmSzV2impj5nDF8Oy5KGf2DazVKYflOAVEaOmNjezh5WLdDvt6mtxuXuJ7VIP-QuOC6cQeKcobqqIm8hDcv4WDQBdRbJL1sq02Ln=w640-h414" width="640" /></a><p></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-91513819060356236062022-01-03T21:10:00.006-05:002022-05-24T20:59:40.263-04:00HALLOWEEN: H2NO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEYVFabAG9w6bcQCCKm6wGngfU739K4cDbNZ4k9OIaLEVkKKpxaJ9SUI6OxLwegodhofk-4Jr9WhaBLKT2ibKMVxOQWRyLiFxnsLHbWPPEos-pcfT5eCfjOJleA-PDYOn2RfBmpLsUEitlYsx7Dhz2lV3sK7MrEq7HA-Df0tGH3Uv0WEFVyZvoWPol=s2173" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2173" data-original-width="1690" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEYVFabAG9w6bcQCCKm6wGngfU739K4cDbNZ4k9OIaLEVkKKpxaJ9SUI6OxLwegodhofk-4Jr9WhaBLKT2ibKMVxOQWRyLiFxnsLHbWPPEos-pcfT5eCfjOJleA-PDYOn2RfBmpLsUEitlYsx7Dhz2lV3sK7MrEq7HA-Df0tGH3Uv0WEFVyZvoWPol=w498-h640" width="498" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I don't know why, but I've had the <b>Halloween </b>series on the brain recently. Perhaps it's because of the impending video release of <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-kills-2021.html">Halloween Kills</a></b>, or perhaps it's because I <i>always</i> do. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">After digging around the Internet Archive (best site ever), I found a treasure trove: <a href="https://archive.org/details/cinefantastique_1970-2002/" target="_blank">a digital archive of <i>Cinefantastique</i>'s thirty-plus-year run</a><i>, </i>and with it some coverage of <b>Halloween: H20, </b>specifically an interview with John Carpenter regarding his earliest flirtations with directing the film before ultimately passing. I was but a wee tyke when <b>Halloween: H20</b> was released and it remains, to this day, <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">the most excited I'd ever been</a> for an upcoming movie. Because the Internet was still fairly new at the consumer level (my family was always behind the technological eight ball, so we weren't yet surfing on the world wide web), I'd made it a habit of prowling newsstands for magazine coverage in the off-chance I'd find a publication that had written about it in hopes of learning everything I could about this exciting new sequel. It was during this time when I discovered the existence of mags like <i>Fangoria, Rue Morgue, Cinefantastique, </i>and others that didn't just cover genre cinema but were actually <i>dedicated </i>to genre cinema. I was blown away and I snapped up every cover baring The Shape's mask, which is a tradition I dusted off for <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/04/halloween-2018.html">2018's <b>Halloween</b></a> and its underwhelming sequel. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I actually remember seeing this specific issue of <i>Cinefantastique </i>at my friendly neighborhood comic book shop (shout-out to A Time Lost and Found) back in 1998, over twenty years ago (what the fuck holy shit what's happening) and it was pretty wild to see it again. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEFNhVggJekOj65DWO_8DF-Bg7-iWVQUFlR2ZT8xvPxO0tg6J8YX_c_OEN3FJIpo9dmkDVaWlFrrrBDWSu0M2mBXkNEW6I7N1Qfabuyg8f4CVYmyR5jV07i_owfqz0Z8SpKPISMXEac_-3r8y4eflEfw9_CvG5EblhIh--kcW3l_GTERRpgOAa31Fa=s2173" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2173" data-original-width="1690" height="808" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEFNhVggJekOj65DWO_8DF-Bg7-iWVQUFlR2ZT8xvPxO0tg6J8YX_c_OEN3FJIpo9dmkDVaWlFrrrBDWSu0M2mBXkNEW6I7N1Qfabuyg8f4CVYmyR5jV07i_owfqz0Z8SpKPISMXEac_-3r8y4eflEfw9_CvG5EblhIh--kcW3l_GTERRpgOAa31Fa=w629-h808" width="629" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-28996954193423282132021-12-28T08:35:00.005-05:002021-12-28T08:35:47.362-05:00PEEK<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRZE2IjH3UZ9MYSBH6cELtC2UKahSbd4OXEPJW7rR4dgFxq_KCbZoUWxFiOv86DpxzZ6loDhec8k0idtyHUZb6UEeewa5614-oOgX1dkDKHMg33zx-nYp3QD2EdF20CvP4ynLoQQEFRTdWHS40X4uVaZyhRCttqq-SMPx0Ug1pLfhVyy7b_GeLOo0C=s1080" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1053" data-original-width="1080" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRZE2IjH3UZ9MYSBH6cELtC2UKahSbd4OXEPJW7rR4dgFxq_KCbZoUWxFiOv86DpxzZ6loDhec8k0idtyHUZb6UEeewa5614-oOgX1dkDKHMg33zx-nYp3QD2EdF20CvP4ynLoQQEFRTdWHS40X4uVaZyhRCttqq-SMPx0Ug1pLfhVyy7b_GeLOo0C=w640-h624" width="640" /></a><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CV4-tbPlGvC/" target="_blank">Source</a>.</p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-81922823837568576812021-12-26T18:48:00.004-05:002021-12-26T19:17:29.379-05:00FEAR THE PRIEST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0rPAPladCgq5p-jeyXF6KA87nZPC5RbU5BkZmSClazg3euGcKWealdN53cDJVfz4q-GixdpeITF-pWcmJ-nUpay6aDaksiuWgZFAUQRsqEsz9AtdsTygigNml8e5fmqzbRaVuUok3uBKZXuWXDUa2qmQf4WMoce5-ojtiNjs9sSmTONdU7l4AYKzZ=s2103" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2103" data-original-width="1400" height="899" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0rPAPladCgq5p-jeyXF6KA87nZPC5RbU5BkZmSClazg3euGcKWealdN53cDJVfz4q-GixdpeITF-pWcmJ-nUpay6aDaksiuWgZFAUQRsqEsz9AtdsTygigNml8e5fmqzbRaVuUok3uBKZXuWXDUa2qmQf4WMoce5-ojtiNjs9sSmTONdU7l4AYKzZ=w599-h899" width="599" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Excellent fan poster by <a href="https://twitter.com/deadthicket" target="_blank">Sam Wolfe Connelly</a>.</div><p></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-52808437130880983122021-12-13T20:00:00.002-05:002021-12-14T06:34:36.767-05:00NO TIME TO DIE (2021)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFhHMRN6cylTz_d0xjNAsKz1daH0eMDBDBA7pmMV6cgX1ZW_06FUM-juK6DN0JSJAxM2goCSiqlf0kbRA1TJKxK7q7WyNX4QLCbL5EU6rLQ1p2D1iXuzWXcWqBQ6Y7ZwXXe6KETNL2Tim7efqm2vxtV6NSzeXzweZvczBXPftrigTd-6syuDndD9dP=s1105" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="1105" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFhHMRN6cylTz_d0xjNAsKz1daH0eMDBDBA7pmMV6cgX1ZW_06FUM-juK6DN0JSJAxM2goCSiqlf0kbRA1TJKxK7q7WyNX4QLCbL5EU6rLQ1p2D1iXuzWXcWqBQ6Y7ZwXXe6KETNL2Tim7efqm2vxtV6NSzeXzweZvczBXPftrigTd-6syuDndD9dP=w640-h444" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><i style="text-align: justify;">[<b>Warning</b>: Major spoilers
follow for <b>No Time To Die</b>.]</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What began in 2006 with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino Royale</b> ends with this year’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b>, which sees Daniel
Craig’s fifth and final outing as James Bond, world-traveling, martini-shaking
international superspy. Though his films deviated in terms of quality from one
entry to the next like those of previous Bond actors, Craig proved to be among
the most popular Bonds of the character’s cinematic history—if not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the </i>most popular. (Some folks will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never </i>surrender their love for Sir Sean
Connery.) I’ll freely admit, except for random dalliances here and there, I’m
not a student of James Bond. I barely engaged with the series prior to Pierce
Brosnan’s first appearance in 1995’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Goldeneye</b>;
I’ve seen just a few Brosnans, not a single Connery, and I’ve only got one
Roger Moore under my belt. (That sound you just heard is an entire Internet’s
worth of Bond fans slapping their foreheads in disgust.) In this review for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">James Bond: Part 25</b>, I mention this for
a reason: though numerous sacred franchises and IPs from my adolescence were
reborn during my young adulthood in the early 2000s, for once, I was the target
for the new millennium’s rebooted James Bond series—I was fresh blood, an
untapped viewer to hook and reel in for the multiple movies typically dictated
by any new Bond actor’s contract. The strength of Martin Campbell’s exciting
direction with<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Casino Royale</b>, the
fierce but suave portrayal of Bond by Craig, and the sincerer and less cheeky
tone of this new era was an ideal way to introduce me to the concept (and Eva
Green’s presence sure didn’t hurt); with just one movie, all my preconceived
notions accumulated by years of parodies, rip-offs, and pop culture references
had been blasted away. This was a Bond I could finally get behind, and for
fifteen years, I did.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Starting with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino Royale</b>, the series followed an
up-and-down trajectory in quality. Though 2008’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Quantum Of Solace </b>didn’t plumb the same kind of lows as Brosnan’s
worst entries, it was still<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>a step
down when compared to the series’ heart-defibrillating predecessor. Then came
2012’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Skyfall</b>, directed by
celebrated filmmaker Sam Mendes (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1917</b>),
clearly Craig’s second-most beloved entry, followed by another step down with
2015’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b>, which pulled a very
rare series hat trick in having Mendes immediately return as director, and whose
Christoph Waltz was dogged by so many questions and speculation that he was
playing the iconic Ernst Blofeld, which the actor denied at each turn, that
once the movie was released and he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>revealed
as such, all the impact of the revelation had been sucked out of the room.
(Waltz returns briefly in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b>,
his Blofeld channeling Hannibal Lecter behind glass prison walls just like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Skyfall</b>’s Javier Bardem before him.) In
my estimation, Craig never made a straight-up bad Bond film, though it was easy
to be disappointed by some of his entries because of how well made and exciting
his best ones were, and how “event” the series is in general; with this prestige
came unreasonable expectations, as audiences no longer expected “okay”
entries—they wanted to be blown away each time, and that rarely happens with a
long-running series, even one with the luxury of reinventing itself each time a
new actor steps into the superspy’s tuxedo. Because of this trajectory, and for
many other reasons—Craig’s vocal refusal to play the character again after <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b> (he very dryly conjured threats
of suicide as an alternative), the public exit by original director Danny Boyle
(<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">28 Days Later</b>), the hiring of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">True Detective</b>’s Cary Fukunaga as his
replacement, the high-pressure responsibility of being the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">final </i>Craig Bond film, and its <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">twenty-three-month
delay</i> caused by the ongoing pandemic—all eyes were on <s>2019’s</s> <s>2020’s</s>
2021’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b>. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSJ0OyH_lw_ZpqjQK06JFzc0CIR7H_X3tcbdsaIqZXu_nPfpoQwOxzA51vgy_C5R7LP3Liy3mRlanMe6_p1xxXx_HZ8HGulrCX-qAmFGz_ZX34pvaJSzL5XLsTEZGD0poPE5kr6KeQpohZ4jb_2FE6IeSt_9jnbO-yiydRa9pW2s2Z1veaFfHY1srb=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSJ0OyH_lw_ZpqjQK06JFzc0CIR7H_X3tcbdsaIqZXu_nPfpoQwOxzA51vgy_C5R7LP3Liy3mRlanMe6_p1xxXx_HZ8HGulrCX-qAmFGz_ZX34pvaJSzL5XLsTEZGD0poPE5kr6KeQpohZ4jb_2FE6IeSt_9jnbO-yiydRa9pW2s2Z1veaFfHY1srb=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Unlike the more segmented,
one-off adventures of Bond arcs in the past, all of Craig’s entries had fed
into each other in some manner, so to fully appreciate one or two of them
required seeing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all </i>of them. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> not only solidifies that
pattern but its entire dramatic swing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">depends
</i>on it. Its opening present-day moments won’t mean a thing if you haven’t
previously witnessed the burgeoning romance between Bond and Vesper Lynd
(Green) and its subsequent, er…dissolution in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino Royale</b>—an experience that permanently altered Bond across
the entire series to follow, turning him from a romantic to a cynical,
distrustful womanizer for which the character is known. Initially, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b> was designed to be the capper
for Craig’s arc, retroactively establishing all the previous films’ villains as
operating at the behest of the shadowy criminal enterprise after which the film
takes its name while also allowing Bond to retire at the conclusion of the film.
With <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b> no longer Craig’s final
outing, and in order to justify a reason to bring him back to the role, the
stakes had to be raised, and an even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bigger</i>
threat was necessitated to complement Craig’s for-realsies-this-time swan song.
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> ably accomplishes
this feat; however, instead of relying on yet another shadowy criminal
enterprise, the villainous threat comes in the form of one extremely damaged
individual with an alarmingly prescient virological axe to grind by the name of
Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek)—and villains don’t get any bigger than Lucifer.
It’s said that the enemy of your enemy is your friend, but when your enemy is
the enemy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone, </i>there’s no shaky
alliance to be found and it’s every man for himself. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> begins with the retirement Bond had finally
achieved, which sees him traversing the world alongside <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b>’s Madeleine (Léa Seydoux), but a suspicious attack branded
by Spectre sees the end of the couple’s harmony and Bond unofficially unretires
to chase down who could ever be so rude as to ruin the kind of picturesque and
exotic life that only exists in Hollywood fiction. His unretirement allows him
to reconvene with his former support team of M (Ralph Fiennes), Moneypenny
(Naomie Harris), the delightful Q (Ben Whishaw, voice of the eponymous bear in
the charming-as-hell <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Paddington</b> series),
Tanner (Rory Kinnear), Bond’s replacement and new 007 Nomi (Lashana Lynch), and
CIA operative Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright). With the team back together—well,
sort of; he starts off working for the Americans before switching back to his
home team—Bond trounces across the world in pursuit of his ultimate nemesis.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3eeRc5l5tH6R-qwATMGvgCBvYm6FjgAPiw7tNrBAfx7x6cJY2-Cbjd7I7JUXUm3L2TflMmHJoYKjzucvTEo0lrx-FAdLBqQJFndZ-7fvd-M0oRWqij8E1btucctS7UnREdpcpeLbKPdcjY72hMRTA-VyWbxykzkYgNhh-EacB-wsrIZTd_VWBVu9F=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3eeRc5l5tH6R-qwATMGvgCBvYm6FjgAPiw7tNrBAfx7x6cJY2-Cbjd7I7JUXUm3L2TflMmHJoYKjzucvTEo0lrx-FAdLBqQJFndZ-7fvd-M0oRWqij8E1btucctS7UnREdpcpeLbKPdcjY72hMRTA-VyWbxykzkYgNhh-EacB-wsrIZTd_VWBVu9F=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Despite Craig’s very
understandable misgivings with returning to the series after <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b> (the actor broke at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one </i>bone on every production), <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> gives him the most to do
yet, emotionally, as the character. We see Bond both retired and active; we see
him content and happy before we see him crumbling and hardened; we see him
going rogue and also finding a family; and finally, we see him at his most
peaceful as the sky around him fills with an army’s arsenal. Perhaps it’s
Craig’s natural improvement as an actor, his increasing ease at playing the
character, or the harmony in knowing he’ll soon be free of the series that’s
ravaged his body and dumped on him an enormous amount of public and industry
pressure—whatever the reasons, he’s never been better to watch as James Bond,
which is a nice way to say farewell.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Director Fukunaga stages a boatload
of exciting action sequences, especially the film’s opening post-attack car
chase, but also including the much-ballyhooed sequence in Cuba, which not only
allows for the appearance of the incomprehensibly gorgeous Ana de Armas as
greenhorn agent Paloma, but all of which falls back on the sillier, tongue-in-cheek
humor that the Bond series had exercised throughout its run before the Craig era
eagerly left it behind. Though the sudden tonal shift comes off as a jarring
and alarming portent of things potentially to come, it’s made clear soon after
that this was Fukunaga’s minor deviation—his chance to craft a sequence more in
line with the quirkier Bond adventures—before righting the ship for the
remainder of the running time…except for the occasional corny zinger. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrhQpzzOL8m8wMGAWHKnor5AP-sytc0VVTBTUntSaqmem7etnXfpA1zNUXuNYZgLOEX74QGM6Ju4w91y-4d8sLdfYzPoi6Kz6kO3IldatWAhH87P0uhY4HlwwuAAoInLlp0tnwogfklmadfMj707j1BiGv1d-oiOeUO9W1A-Hzmksddj8N4TJfS9Bl=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrhQpzzOL8m8wMGAWHKnor5AP-sytc0VVTBTUntSaqmem7etnXfpA1zNUXuNYZgLOEX74QGM6Ju4w91y-4d8sLdfYzPoi6Kz6kO3IldatWAhH87P0uhY4HlwwuAAoInLlp0tnwogfklmadfMj707j1BiGv1d-oiOeUO9W1A-Hzmksddj8N4TJfS9Bl=w640-h320" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Though I opened this review with
a major spoiler warning, it bears repeating: if you know nothing about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b>’s finale but intend on
seeing it, this will be your final opportunity to throw your phone out the
nearest window.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Leading up to the production of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spectre</b>, Craig had one caveat: it would
be his final go-round as the character, and Bond would retire from the agency
at its conclusion. In spite of that, longtime producers Barbara Broccoli and
Michael G. Wilson wooed him back with a lot of sweet talk and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a lot </i>more money, only this time Craig
made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damn sure</i> he could never return
to the series. Yes, for the first time ever, the generally immortal James Bond
dies at the end of his mission, not just sacrificing himself for the sake of
his family, in perhaps the most thematically appropriate moment of his series’
arc, but acknowledging to audiences across the world that playing Bond has been
an honor, a blast, and that he is well and truly done—and the very explicit,
on-the-nose depiction of his demise is one no human being could ever come back
from. It never seemed likely that a James Bond film might actually cause me to
spill tears, but seeing Bond’s status change to “offline” on a background
computer screen in the film’s final moments came at me like a speeding Aston
Martin.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Though this has naturally proved
controversial among cinephiles, I found it to be a brave and an especially
emotional move on behalf of the series’ keepers—and besides, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>going to be Craig’s final appearance in the series,
regardless of how his character concluded. When he took over the series in 2006
(and please, genuinely, tell me if I’m wrong), it was never in my mind that the
James Bond seen in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino Royale </b>was
meant to be the same iteration of the character last seen in 2002’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Die Another Day</b>, only this time wearing
a suspiciously different face. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino
Royale</b>, in my eyes, was always meant to be a brand-new beginning for the
character, the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Batman Begins</b> of the
Bond series, in spite of Judi Dench’s presence, who’d appeared as M in all of
Brosnan’s entries. As such, if <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casino
Royale</b> was a new beginning, then <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No
Time To Die</b> is allowed to be a non-controversial ending. We live in a new
age for decades-spanning franchises where it’s no longer expected that every
new entry has to be a continuous story. Earlier I remarked that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No Time To Die</b> was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">James Bond: Part 25</b>, but that’s not accurate; instead, it’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Daniel Craig’s James Bond: Part 5</b>, and
once a new actor inevitably steps into the role, the dial will reset, his name
will be James Bond, and perhaps a new support staff will surround him; we may
very well see a new M or Q and everything will be brand new once again. (Personally,
I’d love to see the new arc go back in time and take place across the 1960s—it’d
be an easy way to transition to a new Bond actor and allow the dust to settle
before the series re-finds the present day.) Only time will tell what the
future holds—and like this newest entry, its moniker, and in spite of the death
of James Bond, this series will never die. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">James Bond <i>will </i>return.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijO6RBYcHJyM3PcXh1mX8IpgveNsFpzMO-bEVNYWEDgDIAnq1bsK7QKjmBz4SqcH21GVr7R1NNlyEyaQSVkZ3Ck6yZzfDJOPP9bTLcCHNU9soCBE_aSrqd7vIhl4OO7UmoWdQmkFAOEM93WUQoMStLccemrVmb7vxACM9wKgRRcQmyShltVsAYuK1P=s540" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="540" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijO6RBYcHJyM3PcXh1mX8IpgveNsFpzMO-bEVNYWEDgDIAnq1bsK7QKjmBz4SqcH21GVr7R1NNlyEyaQSVkZ3Ck6yZzfDJOPP9bTLcCHNU9soCBE_aSrqd7vIhl4OO7UmoWdQmkFAOEM93WUQoMStLccemrVmb7vxACM9wKgRRcQmyShltVsAYuK1P=w640-h414" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-44543456714151781042021-11-22T19:46:00.007-05:002021-11-29T10:21:01.014-05:00CANDYMAN (2021)<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUZIAOU8OLBQyEJg6EZ6r4d2SdKqHwXdmWIomzlxogM6NqaErA9gW8UxAFamUUS2ms8l2F0T1uaBuZMwXDdf2Db_BnbsJ-I6g1Hixf5UEv06IeFMBc162JVhy3qBTv2pQa1aBvygB-1c/s2000/candyman-2021-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1480" data-original-width="2000" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUZIAOU8OLBQyEJg6EZ6r4d2SdKqHwXdmWIomzlxogM6NqaErA9gW8UxAFamUUS2ms8l2F0T1uaBuZMwXDdf2Db_BnbsJ-I6g1Hixf5UEv06IeFMBc162JVhy3qBTv2pQa1aBvygB-1c/w640-h474/candyman-2021-1.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Warning</b>: Spoilers for the <b>Candyman </b>series.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The idea of going back to the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> franchise thirty years after
the original terrified the previous generation seemed a little unwise and
fairly arrogant—for all kinds of reasons. Where to start? Though it’s generally
(and unfairly) lumped in with other slasher sagas, the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> series only made it to three entries, very much on the low
end when compared to its double-digit-reaching colleagues. Indeed, the series
has been extinct for over twenty years, thanks to 1995’s underwhelming <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Farewell to the Flesh</b> and 1999’s
atrocious direct-to-video <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Day of the
Dead</b>. On top of that, the irreplaceable Tony Todd had obviously aged out of
the title role, and there was really no one left standing at the end of that
brilliant original movie to continue the story (…or was there?). Probably the
most important question: could a modern filmmaker working on behalf of a major studio
have the same uncanny ability for unnerving audiences like writer/director
Bernard Rose had back in the dark ages of 1992? Could anything baring the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> name in this day and age <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>be as terrifying?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For once, though the trailers
gave away a lot, they didn’t give away <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything,
</i>and what was assumed to be a straight-up reboot of the series’ overall
concept was actually a sequel in very sly sheep’s clothing, allowing for the
return of characters (and actors) not seen since <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ‘92. Much like <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/04/halloween-2018.html">2018’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b></a>,
this belated <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> follow-up has
ditched its association with every sequel outside of the original, only keeping
the real name of Candyman intact as Daniel Robitaille, as established in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Farewell to the Flesh</b>. It’s also very
much a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loyal</i> sequel, calling back to
the original as much as possible while still digging deeper into the concept of
Candyman as a character, as a legend, as a concept, and as something much
more—“the whole damn hive” as the movie explains. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lfh3mPi3pOViOwjgOjmC8PyNK48dtUl2d7ORA9ZzqyrndUGip7BOFILX10gLJsS0P-Wd4zaJqudzkemzYtboE3UgINQGWcW0EzycKpUM9aqltPYYeIdg9ZLgXEAap4k3aHy2GwlAwOM/s740/candyman-2021-3.jpg.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lfh3mPi3pOViOwjgOjmC8PyNK48dtUl2d7ORA9ZzqyrndUGip7BOFILX10gLJsS0P-Wd4zaJqudzkemzYtboE3UgINQGWcW0EzycKpUM9aqltPYYeIdg9ZLgXEAap4k3aHy2GwlAwOM/w640-h320/candyman-2021-3.jpg.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen
II, the upcoming <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Matrix Resurrections</b>)
is an artist in a rut, living with his art promoter girlfriend Brianna
Cartwright (Teyonah Parris, the fucking hysterical <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">They Came Together</b>) in a swanky Chicago apartment that, once upon a
time, had been part of the Cabrini-Green housing projects where large portions
of the original film took place. After hearing the legend of Helen Lyle,
Virginia Madsen’s character from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman
</b>‘92, whose life story has been rewritten to make her a Candyman-like
villain as opposed to the hero, Anthony begins to research the mythos by
heading to where it all went down: what remains of the Cabrini-Green projects.
He soon meets William (Colman Domingo, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Selma</b>),
manager of a local laundromat, who tells him of his own murderous run-in with
Candyman as a child…only it’s not the Candyman audiences already know (Todd),
but an altogether different hook-handed weirdo in a flowing jacket named
Sherman Fields (Michael Hargrove), a well-meaning but slow-witted local killed
by police after having been falsely accused of injuring children with razor-blade
candy. Following his killing, Sherman returns as the eponymous mirror man,
killing those who call him by his new name, which directly results in the
death of William’s sister. Now infected with Sherman’s image, and, naturally,
after repeating the name “Candyman” five times into the nearest mirror, Anthony
begins to suffer hallucinations of a bloodied and mutilated Sherman Fields appearing
in every mirror reflection, all while a nasty bee sting seems to be
transforming his body into a hideous husk. Meanwhile, his previously dismissed
art gallery exhibits inspired by Candyman begin to gain traction…in conjunction
with the deaths of those with immediate ties to Anthony’s work as an artist.
Soon, as word of Candyman’s terror begins to spread, so does that of the means to summon
him: by looking into the nearest mirror and saying his name.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s often said for belated
sequels like this that prior knowledge of previous movies isn’t necessary to
enjoy any updated take (especially those belated sequels that drop all numerals
and subtitles and reuse the original moniker, a trend I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> wish would go out of style), but when it comes to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ‘21, written/produced by
Jordan Peele (<b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/06/get-out-2016.html">Get Out</a></b>, <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/06/blu-ray-review-us-is-no-sophomore-slump.html">Us</a></b>) and directed by Nia DaCosta, I could not disagree more. Sure, if you’ve
never seen the original film, you could still find things to enjoy and grasp
the overall concept while also getting a nice dose of the creeps, but by
default it would prove to be an almost hollow experience—especially with its
ending. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21 isn’t just an
homage or a universe side adventure—it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">depends</i>
on the original film to flesh out its story in the very same way it depends on
it for its entire existence. If <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
’21 were a haunted house, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’92
would be its ghost. The original film’s events, ideas, and characters permeate
the events in this new take, which finds dozens of loving ways to loop itself
in with its predecessor, falling back on even its most background details (like
the razor-blade candy, which remained unexplained in the original and remains
unexplained here). Relievedly, there are no radical reinventions of the
concept—at least, none that don’t expand on ideas already well established. Even
the musical score by Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe presents in the same spirit as Philip
Glass’s score for the original, crafting a very experimental and
non-traditional soundtrack, along with lifting its most recognizable theme and
reinventing it as a pensive and melancholy melody on electric organ. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21 isn’t out to exploit its
namesake while pushing aside everything that made it so wonderful; if there’s
any one modern sequel that proves its love for its source material, it’s this
one.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigORNjxpPvK_DFUdHgw8fnOJu5_8oeCj8nAmTIaljF__QsLsK58EeL6uG7fBEeoikG-09RheFQJAhN63jJSz8Zd112WfK-KK8zF131Ebssm-ZXZ4HvmBPPp7cGOJQX79lLqbPi8xXxxsA/s1300/candyman-2021-2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1300" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigORNjxpPvK_DFUdHgw8fnOJu5_8oeCj8nAmTIaljF__QsLsK58EeL6uG7fBEeoikG-09RheFQJAhN63jJSz8Zd112WfK-KK8zF131Ebssm-ZXZ4HvmBPPp7cGOJQX79lLqbPi8xXxxsA/w640-h374/candyman-2021-2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’92 laid the groundwork for who Candyman is, and most
importantly, why he persists. As intimated, Candyman is a walking embodiment of
his own legend and of the fear he causes in those who believe in him. As the
legend of Candyman grows, so does his presence in the world, and as his
presence grows <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> well known, the
legends about him grow further, and on and on, an endless loop of a mythical
being’s willed existence. Though the main thrust of events is centralized to Cabrini-Green
in Chicago, it’s suggested his legend is known <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>, including the middle-of-nowhere suburbs, the setting that
provides the film’s opening kill. When Helen Lyle saves Baby Anthony,
previously kidnapped by Candyman to serve as a sacrifice that would make both
Candyman <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and </i>Helen immortal in story
and together forever, those Cabrini-Green residents who bore witness to the act
credit her with having killed the boogeyman who has long haunted their lives.
Over time, however, as evidenced during <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
21’s opening modern-day moments, it would seem that Helen Lyle has inherited
the Candyman mythos. We, the audience, know the truth, but for those characters
in the room hearing the story for the first time, that version of the myth becomes
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their</i> truth. That’s how urban legends
spread, growing more and more powerful with every new person who tells them. To
destroy the Candyman, one must destroy the belief in him, but following this logic,
that also allows the Candyman legend to change at will, so long as enough
people disseminate all the different variations of the story. “The hive,” as
it’s called, is the accumulation of black lives lost to hate in the decades
since the lynching of Daniel Robitaille; though the identities and details
change, with certain people being haunted by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their </i>version of their Candyman, all of those variations are ultimately
absorbed back into, for lack of a better word, the myth of the OG Candyman (Tony
Todd, who returns for just one brief moment). He is the dumping ground for the
world’s racial hate—a sort of anti-Batman on whom Cabrini-Green needs to hang
its history of pain. This concept of “the hive” is the backbone of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21 and is a major feat pulled
off by the filmmakers with great success. It not only remains faithful to all
the rules established by its predecessor, it greatly expands the mythos and
brilliantly allows Todd to reprise the role in just a single appearance,
limited to a single line, while reestablishing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his </i>Candyman as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the </i>Candyman.
It doesn’t matter that he’s not the main Candyman glimpsed throughout the
movie; ultimately, it’s still the story of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i>
Candyman who started it all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Also returning is
Anne-Marie McCoy (a quietly devastating Vanessa Williams), not seen in this
series since the closing moments of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
’92 in which she peers down into the open grave of Helen Lyle, the savior of
her son. Her one scene offers affirmation to the audience that the histories of
the McCoy family and that of the Candyman are intertwined and sadly
inescapable; though Anthony begins to suspect his place in Candyman lore, it’s
not until the confrontation with his mother that we know it’s all true—in that
moment, Anthony believes, thus giving the Candyman legend power, and thus
setting into motion his own transformation. Seeing Williams return to the role not
only cements this “twist” in the story and brings with it a series history that
works in tandem with Candyman’s own, but also provides a nice little shot of romanticism,
as we horror fans love nothing more than seeing iconic faces return to our
beloved franchises.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>(Also, that woman does <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> age.) <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWviBeAxPOK_d7U-_s-lJV1QsIzsFUSn7diZ2B7qlNjV6km6lQEY5WF0q7qkNshlNAph9J-LUJoTHsbZktRVq-88h7F3zVk4GwXRMrqWmMYyj_xZPJ3X9D38EiFu1_ijPSSJQ53o0bRZg/s1643/candyman-2021-6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="1643" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWviBeAxPOK_d7U-_s-lJV1QsIzsFUSn7diZ2B7qlNjV6km6lQEY5WF0q7qkNshlNAph9J-LUJoTHsbZktRVq-88h7F3zVk4GwXRMrqWmMYyj_xZPJ3X9D38EiFu1_ijPSSJQ53o0bRZg/w640-h334/candyman-2021-6.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>’s biggest detriment is its incapability of executing any
sequences of real fear—at least the kind of fear with the same staying power of
its predecessor…though perhaps that’s unfair. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman </b>‘92 remains one of the scariest mainstream horror films of
all time; its very first frame establishes a sense of dread and ominousness
that continues until its very last. (The bathroom murder sequence involving a
young child is still a top-ten “that fucked me up” moment of my entire
horror-watching life.) That’s not to say <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
’21 doesn’t contain its own collection of eerie images because it certainly
does, and “new” Candyman Michael Hargrove unnerves the viewer with nothing more
than a smile, but it never reaches those “dangerous” scary heights that give
you pause to continue watching any further. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">By its very design, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21 has an awful lot of balls
in the air, and for the most part it keeps them all moving fluidly without
causing a catastrophe, though threatening to overcomplicate matters is an
underexplored subplot in which Brianna deals with a past trauma involving the
suicide of her father, who was also an artist. Though likely existing to draw
parallels to Anthony’s worsening mental state, there’s also a sly inference
that Brianna’s father was a version of her own personal Candyman, in the sense
that she’s also being haunted by someone with a tragic end whose image she
can’t seem to escape. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21
seems to even be implying that every person has his or her own unshakeable
ghost—not walking visages of those gunned down unduly in the streets or lynched
by angry white mobs, but more along the lines of the abstract concepts a ghost
can represent: guilt, sadness, regret, or the sense of something left
unfinished.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNpxRbGXKaf4u71TKCena5BmFkN3JwURznWBNJly3mdAoSvonX3S59rdKkab_0cVsgDlkH-zC9HJxi9xtdNB3URtdnDATVNVheRmlA6irunETzKnR1qrgzEH_QKSMhdsbamF8tXN08tw/s1200/candyman-2021-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="1200" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNpxRbGXKaf4u71TKCena5BmFkN3JwURznWBNJly3mdAoSvonX3S59rdKkab_0cVsgDlkH-zC9HJxi9xtdNB3URtdnDATVNVheRmlA6irunETzKnR1qrgzEH_QKSMhdsbamF8tXN08tw/w640-h384/candyman-2021-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Predictably, some critics and
audience members have dismissed this new take as being the “woke” version of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>, stopping at the surface level
of seeing a black man dealing with black issues caused by the fallout of racial
injustices and dismissing it unseen, but there’s not a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">single idea </i>present here that hadn’t already been established by
its predecessor: first, there’s gentrification—Helen Lyle reveals that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her </i>swanky apartment building was
originally built as a housing project before some modifications transformed the
units into upscale condos in an effort to keep the rest of the housing projects
contained to the other side of the highway; and then there’s black tragedy at
the hands of an angry and racist white mob—literally how the Candyman legend
was born: his having fallen in love with a white woman and getting her pregnant;
and of course there’s a racist police system—more than once, stories are told
about how black residents of the Cabrini-Green housing projects would call 911
to report someone coming through the walls to kill them, but that no one would
come help because of how “scared” they were to come into the ghetto—and it’s
not until Helen is attacked in the projects while pursuing her research that
the cops finally act. Racial indifference, economic disparity—they are old
themes made new again. It’s ironic that William tells Anthony the legend of
original Candyman Daniel Robitaille, a renowned artist hired by wealthy
families to paint their portraits, and says, “You know how it goes: they love
what we make, but not us.” He could’ve been talking about the very movie he was
in, almost anticipating close-minded audiences to dismiss a movie with the full
right to discuss genuine societal issues—something the horror genre has only
been doing for the last hundred years—as “woke,” a term I’ve come to despise.
What bullshit.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On the lighter side, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> is filled with all kinds of
fun Easter eggs—homages to Clive Barker, whose short story, “The Forbidden,”
originated the Candyman character, are peppered throughout, along with an
unexpected but sweet homage, via Brianna’s surname, to genre legend Veronica
Cartwright (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Alien</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/06/invasion-of-body-snatchers-1978.html">Invasion of the Body Snatchers</a></b>), who
appeared in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Farewell to the Flesh</b> as
Candyman’s great-granddaughter. (There’s also a pretty lame nod to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jurassic Park</b>.) I won’t point them all
out, as spotting them is part of the fun, but with Peele’s influence, they are plentiful,
reminding the audience that, yes, this movie is to be taken seriously, but that
it’s also okay to have a little fun with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To loop back around on the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> comparison, my hope is that
Peele et al. leave this newly resurrected franchise alone, as further
exploration of this newborn concept may very well result in a bed-shit a la <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-kills-2021.html">Halloween Kills</a></b>. Like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> ’18, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b> ’21 works better as a one-off companion to its lineage and
doesn’t need any additional follow-ups to further explore its themes. Maybe I’m
just resorting back to my home-base cynicism, since I didn’t have any faith
that I would enjoy this new <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
as much as I did, but it seems doubtful the same kind of risks can be taken in
a sequel to further explore Candyman as a phenomenon without it buckling under
the weight of its own ambition. After all, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Candyman</b>
’21 is the fourth time Candyman’s name has been called. Call him a fifth time
and things could get painful.<o:p></o:p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtiupjK1iW2RTweieOAHW8ccA1rTMzjFFThSvVx9W6LwnMFEjsHSDIQkntd1xMQdTQ_wgiELdie3SKjli49q-Pomw9o5oWKkw-RGwihkTBkXLOfZAhN6knOPyCqdn7fThe7pbb6xY_D0/s540/candyman-2021-7.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="540" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxtiupjK1iW2RTweieOAHW8ccA1rTMzjFFThSvVx9W6LwnMFEjsHSDIQkntd1xMQdTQ_wgiELdie3SKjli49q-Pomw9o5oWKkw-RGwihkTBkXLOfZAhN6knOPyCqdn7fThe7pbb6xY_D0/w640-h474/candyman-2021-7.gif" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-33255264323934530892021-11-10T12:00:00.003-05:002021-11-10T12:00:00.225-05:00RIP DEAN STOCKWELL<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzfBW7XXA9Tte7S79KDCcQCPd2xxB71cqDQA4SO7q92R1HDhguttQyR9NiuHFaAqroBhMebwMkmF1LsXyCydUkWWFswYkmuvDh3shnqf9zBrO-U6hxtmapFaYKiScA_tHVDMu7PcCDJo/s1080/FDvd6ddVgAMf61p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1080" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzfBW7XXA9Tte7S79KDCcQCPd2xxB71cqDQA4SO7q92R1HDhguttQyR9NiuHFaAqroBhMebwMkmF1LsXyCydUkWWFswYkmuvDh3shnqf9zBrO-U6hxtmapFaYKiScA_tHVDMu7PcCDJo/w640-h544/FDvd6ddVgAMf61p.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-10595131023083565922021-11-09T09:57:00.003-05:002021-11-16T14:43:45.960-05:00PRISONERS OF THE GHOSTLAND (2021)<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkGMZS6QR5Ly0zpKNYv-naP13zYylz-wNrQy6X29qqbpePST1WiuY0NCsBJkzz8jMC_036DT4IjKa7OXtlnUdquypBnnPI_AWH9NUOgJgp0Ra8amKkcjdIkFw-ZC1BNMPGNspFthYmnk/s1280/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkGMZS6QR5Ly0zpKNYv-naP13zYylz-wNrQy6X29qqbpePST1WiuY0NCsBJkzz8jMC_036DT4IjKa7OXtlnUdquypBnnPI_AWH9NUOgJgp0Ra8amKkcjdIkFw-ZC1BNMPGNspFthYmnk/w640-h360/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-1.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spoiler</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">: This review does not serve any purpose.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Nicolas Cage has made the most
interesting movies of his career over the last ten years. I didn’t say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i>, mind you, although there have been
quite a few of those—I said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">interesting</i>.
Even his failures, like 2018’s low-rated <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Between
Worlds</b>, a metaphysical erotic thriller that breaks the fourth wall and
recognizes Cage’s character as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actually
being Nicolas Cage during a sex scene, </i>is far more interesting than the last
highest-rated Hollywood Marvel tentpole you saw. Despite his reputation as
being a quirky, rubber-stamping performer saying yes to every offer that comes his
way, well…broken clocks and all that: saying yes to a lot can yield occasionally
awesome results, and it’s given us horror fans a handful of terrific titles
during this period. Though it’s impossible to keep up with Cage’s movies at
this point, I feel confident in saying it’s been a while since I’ve seen a
particular movie where he slept walk through his role. Cage is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>trying, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always </i>giving it his all; he’s quite possibly one of the bravest
actors from the old guard still taking chances with wild abandon, unafraid to ascend
to the most manic heights if it serves the movie. (See the binge-drinking,
underwear-clad bathroom freak-out scene from 2018’s incredible <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mandy</b>.) This was something I always knew,
but of which I was reminded following an impromptu double-feature of two Cage
flicks brand new to video: the understated, beautifully made <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pig</b>, in which he offers a tragic,
brokenhearted performance as a man seeking the last remaining thing on this
planet he loves, and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the
Ghostland</b>, in which he plays a criminal forced to go looking for something
he couldn’t care less about, screaming his face off and gnashing his teeth and contending
with roving desert threats the whole time—ghostly or otherwise. His range
across those two random examples was remarkable, the first bringing tears and
the second bringing wide-eyed astonishment. Very few actors can do this, and
Cage is one of them, though his genuine talent is often forgotten thanks to his
internet folk hero status as a meme, those “crazy reel” YouTube compilations,
and his doppelganger in that old-timey 1800s photos that suggests he is, in
fact, a vampire. (Insert scene from 1988’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Vampire’s
Kiss</b> which sees Cage running down the street screaming, “I’M A VAMPIRE, I’M
A VAMPIRE!”)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cage himself has described <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland </b>as “the wildest movie [he’s] ever made,” a quote wisely utilized in the film’s marketing, as anyone
considering watching a movie with a concept as wild as this one would likely be
enticed by his presence alone, so once you see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>quote, well, holy shit—strap in. Such a proclamation is a very
ballsy boast, as by now I’m sure your own choices for Cage’s craziest are playing
in your brain like a powerpoint presentation. Could <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners
of the Ghostland</b> out-crazy the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hellraiser</b>-meets-<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Death Wish </b>vigilante horror-thriller <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mandy</b>, or the stone-faced supernatural comedy/horror
hybrid <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Willy’s Wonderland</b>, or Werner
Herzog’s<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call
New Orleans</b>, which has a scene where Cage’s bad cop sees the breakdancing figure
of a thug his goons just killed and says, “Shoot him again—his soul is still
dancing,” before breaking out in wild, unhinged laughter? Directed by Japanese
filmmaker Sion Sono (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cold Fish</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Suicide Club</b>), <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland</b> is a mish-mash of genres; not content to
borrow influence <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i> from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yojimbo</b> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i> from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Good, the Bad,
and the Ugly</b>,<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>it’s instead both—a
collision of Japanese samurai warriors and the lone American western about a gunman
looking for redemption, creating a nonsensical world of imagery that feels more like a boardwalk sideshow where tourists stop to put on garish costumes and take novelty photos with their families. Cage, of course, is the film’s man with no name—a leather-clad
cowboy known only as Hero, or sometimes Nobody, yanked out of jail following a botched
bank robbery in a sandy nowhere called Samurai Town and forced into a rescue/retrieval
mission across the desert at the behest of the villainous Governor (Bill
Moseley). Yes, it’s a direct riff on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Escape
from New York</b>, or, technically, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Escape
from LA</b>, but also contains elements of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dances
with Wolves</b>, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mad Ma</b>x, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Book of Eli</b>, and the spaghetti western
of your choice. Yet, in the face of these largely American and Japanese inspirations,
something about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland</b>
feels strangely Australian; though that might be explained away by the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mad Max</b> influence, it almost seems to
be echoing the work of<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>cult directors
Brian Trenchard-Smith (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dead End Drive-In,
The Man from Hong Kong</b>) and Russell Mulcahy (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Razorback</b>), leaning on crazy color schemes, an unrelenting quirkiness,
and a driving identity only Australian cult cinema is capable of. While I can’t
say <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland</b>’s puréed
influences<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>all get along, I can say
that it’s enchanting, allowing moments of genuine artistry, and, of course,
moments of obligatory Cage freak-out scenes. (Cage’s Hero bellows “TESTICLE!”
at one point with so much operatic gusto that I swear to Bale’s Batman you can
see his tonsils.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFnj4hnXcLvh2fh9J2Gr-lUw9Fi_7DWyXCIYNU4QZHOZNY_6jwts_7YPESPMULIKWCFw1MJkJDX4iR_iv-ph5hY7E1cpf_Cn-2yE69Bp54JVkhxfNgxCYhOWPE6e7TE28bbKMzsfDVqI/s1920/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="1920" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFnj4hnXcLvh2fh9J2Gr-lUw9Fi_7DWyXCIYNU4QZHOZNY_6jwts_7YPESPMULIKWCFw1MJkJDX4iR_iv-ph5hY7E1cpf_Cn-2yE69Bp54JVkhxfNgxCYhOWPE6e7TE28bbKMzsfDVqI/w640-h380/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-3.png" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Though both actors have been dabbling
in smaller productions that skip mainstream theatrical debuts altogether, it
seems strange to see Cage sharing the screen with character actor Bill Moseley,
who has been playing unseemly characters in under-the-radar horror flicks since
the 1980s, perhaps most infamously known as Chop Top in Tobe Hooper’s 1986
sequel to<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> The Texas Chain Saw Massacre </b>and
Otis Driftwood in Rob Zombie’s Firefly trilogy. Moseley’s career is filled with
as many movies you’ve never heard of as Cage’s…but they’re a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">different </i>variety of films you’ve never
heard of, and likely stocked with other character actors who make most of their
living traveling the country for various horror conventions. Really, the whole
cast is a combination of different worlds, from the appearance of Cage’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Face/Off</b> co-star Nick Cassavetes as
Hero’s former partner in crime and current desert-dwelling ghost (he’s best
known as having directed <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Notebook</b>)
to Sofia Boutella, mainstream sweetheart of Hollywood fare like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Kingsman</b> and<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Atomic Blonde</b>. How all these people managed to come together and
collaborate on a movie that feels like it transcends each of them as individual
personalities, I’ll never know, but it only adds to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland</b>’s indefinable identity.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland </b>isn’t a movie so much as it is a dare.
It’s a challenge to cinemagoers everywhere, but especially a gauntlet for those
like me who are tasked with writing about it. “Dare to make sense of me,” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland </b>says. “Go
ahead and find meaning in the madness.” It’s why this review opens with that
spoiler tag: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland </b>is
critic-proof. I’m sure many have tried to bring forth some kind of thoughtful
analysis, whereas some others simply threw in the towel and dismissed the title
out of hand, tucking tail and fleeing from the carnival of lunacy—from the
strange plot, the in-and-out moments of broad humor, the ambiguous sense of
whether or not anyone involved in the film’s making is taking it seriously, and
what it’s supposed to mean…if it’s supposed to mean anything. If there’s any one
thing that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Prisoners of the Ghostland </b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">isn’t, </i>it’s subtle. Even when the flick
takes a break from the fight scenes and ghastly gore, its smaller moments are
still peppered with that perceptible sense of “what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>this?” It’s so broadly played and relishing in its over-the-topness
that it becomes one of those movies where it can either be about nothing at
all, or whatever you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want </i>it to be.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>You could walk away claiming it’s an
allegory for manifest destiny and I sure as hell wouldn’t argue with you because
you’d still be closer to the true “meaning” than I’ll ever get. One thing is
for sure: if you’ve ever wanted to see a flick where Nicolas Cage wears a full
body leather suit covered in boobytrap explosions while screaming, “I’LL KARATE
CHOP YOU!” and “HI-FUCKING YAH! HI-FUCKING YAH!,” well, I’ve got just the one…<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuI3t1SINrHWqV3zv-dtb5ee5QdmgfReZxM5p_OUMXQVXbdpnr7qSoL4unXeUAYP-O0iybOWNpOZcLETylvK4nshpfYa5O3H2gq9l4zGujeizPwJkHrfu1UWW-q4QGD6jeT5w2jbF3fc/s540/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-8.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="540" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTuI3t1SINrHWqV3zv-dtb5ee5QdmgfReZxM5p_OUMXQVXbdpnr7qSoL4unXeUAYP-O0iybOWNpOZcLETylvK4nshpfYa5O3H2gq9l4zGujeizPwJkHrfu1UWW-q4QGD6jeT5w2jbF3fc/w640-h438/prisoners-of-the-ghostland-8.gif" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-35389493455451375332021-10-31T11:02:00.003-04:002021-11-01T10:53:01.718-04:00IT’S TIME<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyawCG_ltuXg2sfJes1NBWCXGNNcbidWnTAq99XEpyZ_ElQDTyrM0UMWWijR0BLVw4kt_lCS8C4ONNDTp1GzeRirKWfyZe5lnPmCwHFKvwcfmc8TEc3ZQq4DCmtMz4X-lhzPr2kx28q4/s2044/94BCFEA3-888E-42F6-8DEF-25DA986414FB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2044" data-original-width="1910" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyawCG_ltuXg2sfJes1NBWCXGNNcbidWnTAq99XEpyZ_ElQDTyrM0UMWWijR0BLVw4kt_lCS8C4ONNDTp1GzeRirKWfyZe5lnPmCwHFKvwcfmc8TEc3ZQq4DCmtMz4X-lhzPr2kx28q4/w598-h640/94BCFEA3-888E-42F6-8DEF-25DA986414FB.jpeg" width="598" /></a></div><p></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-55883116014370546572021-10-20T13:15:00.097-04:002022-03-29T09:02:59.147-04:00HALLOWEEN KILLS (2021)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBKHSdI3F41wNnLwGRCwIbhu0dL2rREuAbXmcvJT5xs3j3xckp_qjPPbm7bjPQgP4MM1bXTFfCGx7VfXmKrYNqNYcetwTnkBX0U4VHEZL0YX8clPOqNjV13cRGoWO4ORKZnf4ll4dI-I/s1080/halloween-kills-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="1080" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBKHSdI3F41wNnLwGRCwIbhu0dL2rREuAbXmcvJT5xs3j3xckp_qjPPbm7bjPQgP4MM1bXTFfCGx7VfXmKrYNqNYcetwTnkBX0U4VHEZL0YX8clPOqNjV13cRGoWO4ORKZnf4ll4dI-I/w640-h434/halloween-kills-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s been a very long time since
I’ve encountered a horror movie as polarizing as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b>. I'd have to go back more than a decade
to, ironically, <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2013/10/halloween-shitty-flicks-rob-zombies.html">Rob Zombie’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b></a>,
or the <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/09/happy-birthday-you-piece-of-shit-friday.html">Platinum Dunes remake of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Friday
the 13<sup>th</sup></b></a>. Far be it from me to think I can cover anything that’s not yet been covered in reviews across the internet, from
mainstream critics to genre-friendly websites to legions of social media
posters. I have seen ten/tens, zero/tens, and everything in between. One
commenter stated that the 1978 original and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> are the only <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>
films they’ve ever liked, and they’d much sooner watch this newest sequel than
the original. Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the spectrum, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> has been hugely
maligned for a whole host of reasons, most of them fair—depending on what
“fair” means to you. Because of this disparity, reviewing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> feels like screaming into the void alongside
everyone else, like sitting in a room and arguing among friends about which
local greasy spoon makes the best pizza—because everyone has an idea of what
they want, and that idea can be radically different from person to person. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The problem with the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> series, or really any ongoing
series that had a legitimately good first entry and later devolved into broadly
distilled, sensationalized versions of the same concept, is that audiences become split
as to what they want. The first movie creates the mold and the rules, but every
sequel, by design, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has </i>to do
something new, and through their very nature, they become sillier and sillier
parodies of their own idea. So, who decides what a new entry in an established franchise should be like? Should every new entry try to be "good," or should it merely carry the torch and keep the franchise alive, just like all its lower-reaching sequels? The first <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> is
a critically lavished film that even Roger Ebert once referred to as a classic, so each time a sequel is made, a portion of the
audience hopes to see something that lives up to that legacy—something classy with an emphasis on suspense over gore. Most of the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> sequels aren’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> movies, though they are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fun</i> in their own way (I'll always defend <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-4.html">Halloween 4</a></b> as being a good one, though maybe I’m alone in that), so when you've got two halves of the audience vying for polar opposite experiences, what happens as a result? Well, those schools of thought collide in a violent crash, and because we're living in 2021
AR (After Reason), a time during which <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everyone
is angry about everything all the time, </i>even something as innocuous as a
movie can cause blood-raging fights.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvCkmLe9lzhP2cTwZ3Ho4U5R33Df48Ci36nlcEPQf_pUp4Yhf1d1gBiKhmeoq3UrdWtYiKYoPKp-MpIXW2PgpHZN35tfKBo_5uCA7X4RzcUOXuMIu5rJLZuNBHMG_nAk9nMf-NjAtjd0/s2048/halloween-kills-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRvCkmLe9lzhP2cTwZ3Ho4U5R33Df48Ci36nlcEPQf_pUp4Yhf1d1gBiKhmeoq3UrdWtYiKYoPKp-MpIXW2PgpHZN35tfKBo_5uCA7X4RzcUOXuMIu5rJLZuNBHMG_nAk9nMf-NjAtjd0/w640-h360/halloween-kills-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once you see <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b>—or any movie, really—you henceforth belong to “the
audience.” We all become one mass, just one more community we now share, even
though we’re all looking to the movie to satisfy our own personal desires with
little regard to what the person in the next seat may want. Those
desires can be polar opposites, but they can also, and often, be granular, as everyone has already established their own barometer for satisfaction. What’s
that mean? At the end of the day, there’s only one version of a movie (well,
for the most part—<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween: The Curse
of Michael Myers</b> is somewhere saying, “Hold my four different cuts”), which
means it’s only going to entertain a certain fraction of the
audience—especially one as bloodthirsty as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>
fanfolks. In an effort to entertain both schools of thought, I’m approaching
this too-long review in a different way. The first half will be written by
someone who wanted <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b>
to be legitimately good in the same way as the original and the 2018 reboot. The second half will be written by the part of me that
acknowledges <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">eleventh</i> movie to feature Michael Myers
wandering around Haddonfield and killing townspeople in all kinds of ways, and as such, didn’t expect much beyond some senseless violence and a
reasonably engaging story. Depending on what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you </i>want from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween
Kills</b>, pick your poison and read on. (Spoilers everywhere.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;">Take 1: “I Wanted A <i>Good </i>Movie”</span></b></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Prior to its arrival in theaters
to both huge box office and critical acclaim, <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/04/halloween-2018.html">2018’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b></a> seemed like a real longshot. In the years preceding, Rob
Zombie had killed the series dead with his experimental nonsense, and this was
after 2002’s dismal <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween:
Resurrection</b> had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">already </i>killed
the series along with its leading final lady. (If next year’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Ends</b> kills off Laurie Strode,
that will be the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">third time </i>her character
has died in this goofy series—pretty impressive.) There was understandable
excitement when it was announced that John Carpenter would be serving as
spiritual consiglieri to the reboot after having spent the last 35 years away
from the series, as the closest he’d come in that time was quitting <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">Halloween: H20</a></b> in the earliest days of pre-production. Then came the announcement of Jamie Lee Curtis’s return as the
embattled Laurie Strode and the mood went from “oh?” to “oh!” Enthusiasm for
the project was palpable. <i>Then</i> came the announcement that the guys who had done
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Your Highness</b>, David Gordon
Green and Danny McBride, would be handling the project, and the Internet had no
idea <i>what </i>to think. I sure didn’t. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">These </i>guys
were going to resurrect a series that hadn’t been worth a damn
since 1998? (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Midnight Mass</b>’s
Mike Flanagan also pitched his own version for a reboot, most of which was repurposed
for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Hush</b>, his Netflix Original home
invasion flick. I'd still love to see what Flanagan's <b>Halloween</b> would've been like. Maybe someday...during franchise retcon # 3.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5UdwsGeZ5oiqVS63lP8uvFvkOqnBU81uR0T_mXUSkySsfAyrj9NPicLarMkTRJzd5nvHYmFyA0fGLS6CCqisRjNq3hB1jPhyf_-Aw4wCU4byGTyur18VFZz1NYQKk3OnkPltP2Q6d7g/s1920/halloween-kills-17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5UdwsGeZ5oiqVS63lP8uvFvkOqnBU81uR0T_mXUSkySsfAyrj9NPicLarMkTRJzd5nvHYmFyA0fGLS6CCqisRjNq3hB1jPhyf_-Aw4wCU4byGTyur18VFZz1NYQKk3OnkPltP2Q6d7g/w640-h360/halloween-kills-17.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Despite everyone’s usual
cynicism, Gordon Green and McBride (and poor Jeff Fradley, the film's third co-writer who is seldom mentioned), under the watchful eye of John Carpenter, managed
to deliver one of the best sequels in the series, with Carpenter going on
record as saying it was better than his original. With the dream team having fairly earned the accolades for their approach, there was no reason to believe <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> wouldn’t be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at least</i> comparably good, or at the <i>very
</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">least</i> wouldn’t squander the goodwill
established by their first go-round.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The curse of the sequel strikes
again.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The “good” news is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> isn’t the worst sequel
in the series, regardless of the timeline you’re sticking with—I don’t think
we could ever plumb those kinds of depths ever again—but based on the pedigree
involved, the poor execution of good ideas, and the good execution of a less intellectual and more visceral experience, that leaves <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> in a kind of cinematic
no man’s land where it’s hard to choose one side or the other, and that’s
worse. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween: Resurrection</b>, for
instance, is a piece of shit I’ll never watch again; though unfortunate, there’s
no conflict there and I’m at peace with its place in the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> hierarchy. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween
Kills</b> has a lot to offer, and parts of it are terrific, but its best parts don’t push the narrative
forward in any meaningful way, which is its biggest detriment. If your movie
doesn’t have a point, then fuck—what are we <i>doing </i>here? Though <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> definitely tries, and it has ideas either brand new
or fleshed out from previous sequels (the vigilante aspect from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween 4</b>, for example), what
we’re left with feels unfinished, overwrought, and aimless; really, it feels more like an
extended opening act for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Ends</b>.
It’s the holding pattern of horror sequels—the palate cleanser in between
courses—and that sucks. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_0rpe5AXGMKsHYJ8s_udEuJPnqpIRoAryxs3Kb4pX113edRHJ4zxnZnVipLT_k1FO8NVMRR6nQcy8TGoRORyHEVq9KYoiV6xXbT-uz8A87klOsZq5saTwPW_-VKwehS3zHzLp_ds4jc/s1320/halloween-kills-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1320" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_0rpe5AXGMKsHYJ8s_udEuJPnqpIRoAryxs3Kb4pX113edRHJ4zxnZnVipLT_k1FO8NVMRR6nQcy8TGoRORyHEVq9KYoiV6xXbT-uz8A87klOsZq5saTwPW_-VKwehS3zHzLp_ds4jc/w640-h428/halloween-kills-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Though </span><b>Halloween Kills</b><span style="text-align: left;"> continues exploring the concept of trauma as established during its predecessor, this time the series expands beyond Laurie Strode and her family and looks at how the other citizens of Haddonfield are still emotionally reeling from the night he came home and how that trauma manifests…which is with revenge. Right out of the gate, this newborn series seems to be transitioning from philosophical and intimate nuance to primal, in-the-streets chaos. </span><b>Halloween Kills</b><span style="text-align: left;"> is a malfunctioning carnival ride wrenching loose from its hydraulics and shooting off a nonstop torrent of sparks in the form of very wet and crunchy violence with a plot inspired by </span>the third act of 1931’s <b>Frankenstein</b> (only Michael Myers deserves it). In the conceptual sense, it doesn't stray too far from what Gordon Green et al. established in 2018, but it <i>does</i> choose to do something that feels quite wrong for a Curtis-having <b>Halloween </b>movie: completely remove her from the equation, making this latest sequel
feel perfunctory and incomplete. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween
Kills</b> is the sixth <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>
film to feature Curtis' Laurie Strode, but the first in which she never shares a single
scene with her masked nemesis. Of course, this was by design, as the filmmakers wanted this entry to be about the <i>rest </i>of Haddonfield ("One of their numbers was butchered and this is the wake," Loomis says in <b>Halloween 2</b> while Haddonfield townspeople are vandalizing the abandoned Myers house), but also because the filmmakers would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really be </i>straining credibility
in having Laurie walk away unscathed after so many encounters, especially with a
gaping wound in her belly. While all of that is perfectly reasonable, at the same time, it makes the experience of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> feel incidental—like it's not actually a <b>Halloween </b>sequel, but more like some random external adventure happening in a <b>Halloween </b>shared universe. If
it’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>, Laurie and
Michael <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to do battle—that’s,
like, a rule. If you’re playing in the canon sandbox established in 1978, then you’ve broken that rule—just one
among many. That’s like having James Bond call the police on the main supervillain instead of taking the guy out himself.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My biggest gripe with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> is its poor treatment
of the legacy actors and characters being glimpsed for the first time in forty-three years. Featured most prominently is Tommy Doyle, the young boy Laurie was babysitting
Halloween night of 1978, this time played by Anthony Michael Hall. (Conversations
were had about having Paul Rudd come back to play the part after having done so
in the now de-canonized <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers</b>,
and at first it was disappointing it didn’t work out, but seeing what the movie
had turned Tommy into, not even my perpetual love for the Ruddster is enough to convince
me he could’ve played the part as required.) Alongside Tommy are Lindsey
Wallace (a surprisingly terrific Kyle Richards), Marion Chambers (Nancy Stephens), and Lonnie Elam (the wonderful Robert Longstreet of <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/the-haunting-of-hill-house-2018.html">The Haunting of Hill House</a></b>) while retired sheriff Leigh Brackett (Charles Cyphers) is
working a security shift at Haddonfield Memorial. As a
lifelong series fan, of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">course </i>it was
incredible to see those characters and/or actors return to the series...but also a damn shame to see how wasted most of them are. How do you have Laurie Strode and Leigh Brackett
under the same hospital roof and not allow them to share a single scene
together, perhaps one in which they collectively mourn over the slain Annie, her friend and his daughter? (Nancy Loomis appears in archive footage from <b>Halloween </b>and, oddly, <b>Halloween 2</b>, which technically doesn't exist in this new timeline, but which is still used in an appropriate and unobtrusive way.) Though the yearly Halloween-night binge drink
was a clever way to group all those 1978 massacre survivors together, why not
give them each just a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">single </i>moment
to come off like human beings with a shared history? Though I value their
inclusion, their presence smacks of vapid “look, see?” fan service in hopes
we’ll get lost in dreamy nostalgia and not notice how superficial their appearances are—not to mention that killing four out of the five characters seems a little
sadistic, with three out of the four being killed in dismissive ways, as if their place in the series never meant <i>anything</i>. Brackett ranks a blink-and-miss-it face slash; Marion, who dies for the <i>second </i>time in this series, has the honor of going out looking like a fumbling idiot; and poor Lonnie doesn’t even get an on-screen death. Tommy is the only legacy character
to get a ceremonial end, and even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that
</i>felt wrong.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And all during this, bit players from <b>Halloween</b> '18 who were never even given names return in expanded roles, only so <b>Halloween Kills </b>can snuff out even <i>more </i>recognizable people, and with great violence. (I cringed at that "oops!" self-inflicted gunshot wound. Is this <b>Halloween Kills </b>or <b>Abbott & Costello Meet The Shape</b>?) While it makes sense to reuse characters you've already created instead of introducing new ones, it seems really strange that these characters, who haven't had their own face-to-face encounter with Michael Myers and who only learned about him for the first time Halloween night of 2018, would so immediately want to throw hands alongside these legacy characters who've lost loved ones, or nearly died at Myers' hands, or spent the last forty years navigating their own traumas. I'm tempted to think it's meant to be some kind of commentary on tribalism and the deadly consequences of in-the-bubble information loops, but I might be giving something called <b>Halloween Kills</b> too much credit.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilySPOPSYYM3W2sFopLJxTpprnHAo5-ngcLPYni1ktZSPt0hweTvI3A-1JkC8GucD724q0eANJkz5zbmRE4U98ElZc6e4XoJS31YM9n_SKRKEaOLCa-YnC3g4ILDjJeh8Ejz4HeVh8XM/s1920/halloween-kills-16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilySPOPSYYM3W2sFopLJxTpprnHAo5-ngcLPYni1ktZSPt0hweTvI3A-1JkC8GucD724q0eANJkz5zbmRE4U98ElZc6e4XoJS31YM9n_SKRKEaOLCa-YnC3g4ILDjJeh8Ejz4HeVh8XM/w640-h360/halloween-kills-16.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Though <b>Halloween Kills</b> jumps from location to location and timeline to timeline, with something heavy going on almost all the time, it never feels like anything is happening; it’s desperate to do so many things that it eventually collapses under its own heavy load.<b> </b></span>It wants to be “about” something but executes that
aboutness with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It wants to pretend the reveal about The Shape being supernatural in nature is some kind of gigantic, world-stopping revelation...until your most basic fan remembers that Dr. Loomis shot him in the chest six times in 1978 and "he just got up and walked away," the discovery of which didn't surprise Loomis in the least. It wants to establish the origin story of Frank Hawkins (Will Patton) by trying to convince the audience that his past with The Shape is just as intertwined and significant as Laurie's own, but it simply can't stand up to the forty-year head start she has, nor with Curtis's consistent presence in the series, even if most of her sequels have been retconned out of this current continuity—along with<i> </i>the carelessly established motivation for Hawkins' character hinging on his forty-year regret for not shooting The Shape in the brain when he had the chance...even though it's been solidly established that probably wouldn't have killed him anyway. Even Andi Matichak’s presence as Allyson is wasted on the vigilante
angle, which not only feels wrong for her character but feels more like the
movie is babysitting her for the time being in lieu of offering her something
more substantial to do. More than anything, and maybe years down the line he'll confirm this, <b>Halloween Kills</b> feels like the kind of senseless, garish sequel Carpenter would've hated, had it been attached to the franchise's first timeline that, after a while, he had nothing to do with.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;">Take 2: “I Wanted A <i>Fun </i>Movie”</span></b></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> is a fucking blast. With a body count of fortyish people, there’s a violent and brutal death something like every three minutes. Though Gordon Green returns as director, and still channeling Carpenter
by recreating a few shots from the original, this time he's embracing
his inner Argento. The gallons of blood used during production must be
somewhere in the thousands. Holy smokes, is this thing Italian? Between the bloodletting and the corny dialogue, it must be.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> also presents Michael Myers
at his most brutal, vicious, mean-spirited, and utterly unremorseful. His
fire-scorched mask gives him the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jaws 2</b>
treatment, which is appropriate because <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills </b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">has turned him into </span>an unstoppable killer shark. (Yep,
I just quoted Busta Rhymes from <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween:
Resurrection</b>. Haw haw.) James Jude Courtney, with a little assistance from Airon Armstrong for the '78 sequence, returns for another round of Haddonfield mayhem and strikes an even more imposing figure than his last appearance. The Shape of 2018 was methodical but physically capable; here, he's embraced his full-on Kane-Hodder-as-Jason-Voorhees, dispatching his victims in ways we've yet to see in this series. Sure, he does his playful cat-and-mouse thing by hiding in dark corners and behind closet doors, but really, who gives a shit? Why bother? The Shape of <b>Halloween Kills</b> is going for quantity over quality. He could've knocked on the door dressed as the pizza dude or popped out of a sugar bowl to lop off someone's head and the audience would've barely reacted. And that's because, as <b>Halloween Kills</b> ably communicates, the death of any character we see on screen is inevitable. There's no hope for <i>anyone</i>—not even Stewie from <b>Mad TV</b> ("Look what I can do!").<i> </i>And boy, the movie wastes no time in getting to those deaths: the opening massacre of the first responders to Laurie's farmhouse inferno is awe-inspiring—and the closest we've gotten to seeing The Shape kill someone with a chainsaw.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50cteJ2V3NTv8UHu6vtZ66g9vtr-XJ-C0vRj2X9yDtFQ4oUIuePSN7ChXMdK85X4LuR1A-ldnzlN4GF8TIinv5c4qfEi1DaN3jr063b7p7QtV1I1p6rL4ybKwQ_AvNdke4UmFKhbsu_A/s2048/halloween-kills-8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50cteJ2V3NTv8UHu6vtZ66g9vtr-XJ-C0vRj2X9yDtFQ4oUIuePSN7ChXMdK85X4LuR1A-ldnzlN4GF8TIinv5c4qfEi1DaN3jr063b7p7QtV1I1p6rL4ybKwQ_AvNdke4UmFKhbsu_A/w640-h360/halloween-kills-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Before the first
retcon in 1998 with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween: H20</b>,
the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> series had been that
random horror property Jamie Lee Curtis appeared in for just a couple
movies before saying farewell and moving onto bigger studio fare, in the same
way lots of actors had done their one random appearance in famous slasher series:
Kevin Bacon in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/06/her-name-was-pamela-friday-13th-1980.html">Friday the 13<sup>th</sup></a></b>,
Johnny Depp in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Nightmare on Elm Street</b>,
even Jennifer Aniston in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Leprechaun</b>.
Though their involvement in said projects waver from pride to embarrassment, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">none </i><i>of them</i> really talk about them unless prompted, and they certainly never went back to that
well for another go-round. (Sure, most of them died in their respective movies, but since when has that ever stopped Hollywood?) When Jamie Lee Curtis returned to the series for the first time in 1998,
it felt like an event because it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was </i>an
event, and though her presence in a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b>
film doesn’t guarantee it’s going to be good, it still feels <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right. </i>And seeing her stick with this
series forty years after the original movie is special. At this point, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> belongs to her and John
Carpenter (and the every-day-missed Debra Hill), and here they are, all these years later, playing make-believe together like a bunch of kids once
again—this time with filmmakers who grew up on the very movies they're now putting their own stamp on. Output aside, what a nice thing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Speaking of, Carpenter, son Cody,
and Daniel Davies return to score, offering another sinister,
kick-ass musical landscape. Themes from both <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> eras are present and accounted for, along with a whole
host of new material to properly shadow this new take on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> lore. Their score even acknowledges the angry mob angle,
for the first time ever adding a chorus of voices to the legendary <b>Halloween
</b>theme, which plays over the opening
credits that feature not just one illuminated jack-o-lantern, but a
dozen—each one growing more intense with flames as they flow past. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What does it all mean? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Haddonfield
citizens are mad as hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7RcxjMWPcJlKbUCr_oY0Q6xj8XQRN7cWXIoq5PWTiVbpmSWB02vLiC7xSGlo8Ea1XieABMo9O7RYQdUUE2EK2rUHg78uQkPDeAyOOgsC0SDzZNkDTL0PkhSEnWTgDXVpkOC04AZTOpg/s1257/halloween-kills-19.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="1257" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7RcxjMWPcJlKbUCr_oY0Q6xj8XQRN7cWXIoq5PWTiVbpmSWB02vLiC7xSGlo8Ea1XieABMo9O7RYQdUUE2EK2rUHg78uQkPDeAyOOgsC0SDzZNkDTL0PkhSEnWTgDXVpkOC04AZTOpg/w640-h278/halloween-kills-19.PNG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4GVz063TaUXF24uMlTXV-B3ItFy_BXmwgINjVJR2IyFIvW0mJaX2FOVOpgoUzFfcxh37oruY3ydK4zVs0vQe2xr-2kVR0_-rP18ryRDJw9MP0K3HvOkNoINUfRhMQUHYT8rFa2xTTjM/s1100/halloween-kills-18.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="1100" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4GVz063TaUXF24uMlTXV-B3ItFy_BXmwgINjVJR2IyFIvW0mJaX2FOVOpgoUzFfcxh37oruY3ydK4zVs0vQe2xr-2kVR0_-rP18ryRDJw9MP0K3HvOkNoINUfRhMQUHYT8rFa2xTTjM/w640-h278/halloween-kills-18.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The 1978 timeline stuff, which sees Michael's detainment by Haddonfield police, including young Frank Hawkins (Thomas
Mann) and his partner, Pete McCabe (the always enjoyable Jim Cummings,
actor/director of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Wolf of Snow Hollow</b>), works damn well, and is probably the best material in the whole movie. The loyal recreation of the Myers house is
terrific, as is the mask, which is the closest this
series has gotten to faithfully depicting those two holy totems. Evidently some fans have been blasting the “all CGI Loomis”
that was inserted into this sequence, somehow not recognizing him to be a real,
living, non-CGI human being (Tom Jones Jr.). Has CGI really gotten <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> good? I guess I haven’t noticed. Though
the actor’s appearance is uncannily spot on, and overdubbed by the previous
movie’s convincing Loomis soundalike, this new
version of Loomis would've been better left in a blurry background, similar to how Michael’s maskless
face had been obscured throughout the first two movies of this new
trilogy. Still, seeing his trench-coated form standing at the Myers house
threshold as the camera cranes back across the front yard, revealing
a motionless Michael flanked by police—in a shot that mimics the
original's opening scene where six-year-old Michael has his clown mask ripped off by his father—well, it’s the stuff of legitimate chills, and Carpenter and co’s
revisitation of the same theme used for that scene but now gussied up with
disconcerting overlays is probably the movie's greatest moment. (But where are the <i>six </i>bullets Michael had just taken to the chest?)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The fake ending, in which the
Haddonfield mob finally appears to get the best of their boogeyman with a
bad-ass beatdown, only for Michael to gain the unsurprising upper hand and give
them all a little what-for, is terrific, exciting, and that offers the audience some manipulative catharsis—but in a
strange way, also offers the audience a little hope. “He’s turned us all into
monsters,” Brackett says following the hospital mob’s near-lynching of an
innocent man, which may be the moral of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween
Kills</b>: no matter how vicious Haddonfield’s people become—and really,
they're <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us; we’re</i> that mob—we can
never be as evil, black, and unfeeling as The Shape. In this scary day and age,
I’ll take it.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUHq3wl22R7-pdhpxo7zLDpG8nsZ8M4aV3vET0FbJBreBDMb83hky0ZVQeRD_k2b51QvLOV27KR-CoPbYNr1IPfCkRzzl9UCK8CYRG__e2hTrJvziLPdPUYo-s5rj0ZwN2_nAeplsuOQ/s852/halloween-kills-9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="852" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUHq3wl22R7-pdhpxo7zLDpG8nsZ8M4aV3vET0FbJBreBDMb83hky0ZVQeRD_k2b51QvLOV27KR-CoPbYNr1IPfCkRzzl9UCK8CYRG__e2hTrJvziLPdPUYo-s5rj0ZwN2_nAeplsuOQ/w640-h386/halloween-kills-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> chooses to end with a shocker of a moment—the death
of Karen (Judy Greer), which doesn’t just play out in Judith Myers’s old bedroom
in the fabulously restored Myers house, but is even executed in the same way as
Judith’s death in 1963: thrashing hands, obscured points of view—no glimpses of actual
violent penetration, but still uncomfortable to witness. I’m surprised they
didn’t pop in the ol’ eye-hole stencil to give us a look through Michael’s
mask. A move like this is pretty ballsy, and is frankly the only important thing that happens in the entire movie, because it now means Laurie Strode,
technically, has failed—that the years and years she spent training her
daughter to survive against the evil in the world, which did
permanent damage to their relationship and shaped them both into broken people,
didn’t mean a damn thing in the end. And with the recent revelation that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Ends</b> is going to be set four
years after the events of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween</b> '18 and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b>, that’s
plenty of time for Laurie to grow even crazier. And for the series to grow
crazier, too. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If I had to break down this
entire manifesto into one sentence, it would be this: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> is a good slasher movie, but a bad movie in
general…and yet I still kinda liked it. In spite of its hideous dialogue ("Evil dies tonight!") and aimless plot, I've actually been thinking about it off-and-on since having watched it, which is more than I can say about some other "better" flicks I've caught recently. No matter on what side of the fence you
land, you can’t deny <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b>
offers a new flavor to the unkillable series, made with a certain operatic and violent flamboyance that’s difficult to shake. I don’t know why, but I have this odd feeling,
in years to come, it’s going to enjoy a ground-up reevaluation—either by the first-round
audiences left underwhelmed during its preliminary release, or by the next
generation of viewers who find it, similar to how the wonky <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2014/10/halloween-it-aint-that-bad-halloween-3.html">Halloween III: Season of the Witch</a></b> has been recently embraced after
so many years of dismissal. Love it or hate it, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Halloween Kills</b> may very well have staying power, and I’ll be morbidly
interested to see how it holds up in five, ten, or forty years from now.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqF57HY3JZy5gmidjf7Xc6X25TlGzBkOF_8U86t4kZYqIT2TzEskUodzMsseU5U0Wqx0nQeCj4ZbuqEVZeXrMttxWVB98NnMPylkEkhp8eQH3yXDQgU1ccWODEMTaeImRRSitCv71FfY/s498/halloween-kills-21.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="498" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqF57HY3JZy5gmidjf7Xc6X25TlGzBkOF_8U86t4kZYqIT2TzEskUodzMsseU5U0Wqx0nQeCj4ZbuqEVZeXrMttxWVB98NnMPylkEkhp8eQH3yXDQgU1ccWODEMTaeImRRSitCv71FfY/w640-h360/halloween-kills-21.gif" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-8453180130247140932021-10-18T19:23:00.006-04:002021-10-26T06:52:30.646-04:00HALLOWEEN 4: THE RETURN OF MICHAEL MYERS (1988)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjs6xQdiEZL-2nEozmz1njwxYahaU-9Obf0IqYMPDl3fOtvqq9c-UstDBa1pwrOf-pZw0Iam4qm7T5oQwczDb2uw2kbs2o5wjYrfVDa3FlgfQkf5TGXD4_Y9_nq42_mrNn0lkpOgnWck/s1280/halloween-4-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjs6xQdiEZL-2nEozmz1njwxYahaU-9Obf0IqYMPDl3fOtvqq9c-UstDBa1pwrOf-pZw0Iam4qm7T5oQwczDb2uw2kbs2o5wjYrfVDa3FlgfQkf5TGXD4_Y9_nq42_mrNn0lkpOgnWck/w640-h360/halloween-4-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Halloween </b>(1978) is a classic. That statement will be true from now until the end of time. <b>Halloween 2</b>…not so much. Though it tries to recapture its predecessor’s magic, right down to aping Carpenter’s style and half of <b>Halloween</b>’s cast and crew, its sole identity is forged from the unnecessary and hammily executed twist that Laurie Strode and Michael Myers were siblings. After that seemingly definitive swan song for The Shape came <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2014/10/halloween-it-aint-that-bad-halloween-3.html">Halloween 3: Season of the Witch</a></b>, which blew the minds of audiences everywhere, but for all the wrong reasons. “Where is Michael Myers? Who is this Irish guy? Fucking <i>Stonehenge</i>?” Though this black sheep sequel has since enjoyed a long-overdue reevaluation, most audiences refused to accept its Shapeless design at the time, leaving the series as an inconsistently formed trilogy with rapidly diminishing returns.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By the time 1988 rolled around, Trancas Films/franchise godfather Moustapha Akkad (RIP) and John Carpenter/Debra Hill (RIP) had already fought in court over the <b>Halloween </b>rights, which the latter lost, so the rights reverted solely to Akkad, who wasted no time in moving forward on a new entry. At this point, Carpenter had peaced out of the franchise and was putting the finishing touches on the second movie of his Apocalypse Trilogy, <b>Prince of Darkness</b>, and Hill, who would informally remain with the franchise over the next two sequels to groom potential writers and helmers, was busy producing <b>Adventures in Babysitting</b>. And finally, following her consecutive appearances in <b>The Fog, Prom Night, Terror Train, Road Games,</b> and <b>Halloween 2</b>, Jamie Lee Curtis had waved bye-bye to the horror genre. By then, and as <b>Scream </b>will tell you, <b>Trading Places</b> had put her on the map and major Hollywood offers were rolling in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With no Laurie Strode, what’s a screenwriter to do?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Kd6UjEiqC-4Cr0Ibxbvt7MF790IC0It69b1nTBodjGKW6LLLLdVT_0UKuUCj_MRYA8LVTcwh7fx5sE5lidvByd-XlUZBUA-b-_l7R_kVRAFTcepQCsL-48SFL-SYDvwbzwfX62m2D0U/s1600/halloween-4-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Kd6UjEiqC-4Cr0Ibxbvt7MF790IC0It69b1nTBodjGKW6LLLLdVT_0UKuUCj_MRYA8LVTcwh7fx5sE5lidvByd-XlUZBUA-b-_l7R_kVRAFTcepQCsL-48SFL-SYDvwbzwfX62m2D0U/w640-h360/halloween-4-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jamie Lloyd (Danielle Harris) is seven years old and Halloween is just around the corner. She wants to be happy about it like other kids her age, but that’s impossible. She’s still reeling from the car accident that claimed the life of her mother (Laurie Strode) and father (assumed to be Jimmy, the surviving paramedic from <b>Halloween 2</b>) and has since been adopted by the Carruthers family. But there’s even more going on that she’s not privy to: in a move wisely avoiding being derivative of <b>Halloween 2</b>’s third-act twist, the audience is fully aware of who Jamie Lloyd is and her blood connection to Michael Myers. Though she has inexplicable dreams about him, referring to him as “the Nightmare Man,” she’s mercifully unaware of their family ties…unlike everyone else in Haddonfield, who know of or remember the sixteen people he killed a decade ago (an inaccurately high figure used in both marketing materials and the film itself), including the kids at school who bully her relentlessly, Tommy-Doyle-style. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bringing all of that trauma to her performance is an uncannily good Danielle Harris, who was only nine years old at the time of filming. Even though she’d worked scantly in television before her feature debut with <b>Halloween 4</b>, Harris proved she had the chops to be a sympathetic and likeable lead. With an almost unreasonable amount of dramatic responsibility, Harris is tasked with carrying the conflict of the movie on her shoulders, and when she ends her first scene with hugging a shoebox containing the photos of her dead parents on the floor of her closet and sobbing from her nightmares of the boogeyman, there’s no way you don’t feel for her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLavSoGe8BTk93i9EHx6C3EG312oH1KTJ-1mMsHHS-Trlxp1BH6ef63XL7o3jWQolFtJm9uz3bsbxDkEtCX7dSCUBiHCRLkEHvBkLoWAPRmyz0kRHsGwSkdEUiIsW0LPapRZcCOYQ3Ok/s1792/halloween-4-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="943" data-original-width="1792" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLavSoGe8BTk93i9EHx6C3EG312oH1KTJ-1mMsHHS-Trlxp1BH6ef63XL7o3jWQolFtJm9uz3bsbxDkEtCX7dSCUBiHCRLkEHvBkLoWAPRmyz0kRHsGwSkdEUiIsW0LPapRZcCOYQ3Ok/w640-h336/halloween-4-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Halloween 4</b> also marks the return of a familiar, reassuring, and haunted face: Donald Pleasence, who dons the trench coat of Dr. Loomis for a third time, and in a way that tests the durability of the phrase “suspension of disbelief.” Despite his valiant attempt to blow up Michael and himself at the conclusion of <b>Halloween 2</b>, which <b>Halloween 4</b>’s opening exposition dump reduces to Loomis “setting him on fire,” both have survived, though badly scarred. (A proposed but unfilmed opening for <b>Halloween 4</b> picked up at the end of <b>Halloween 2</b>, which had Loomis begging firefighters dousing the flames on Michael Myers to “let him burn”—which <b>Halloween Kills</b> was happy to borrow.) When word hits that the ambulance transporting Michael to Smith’s Grove Sanitarium is found crashed and overturned below a bridge with all personnel dead and Michael missing, Dr. Loomis unpacks his steel-plated pistol and heads to Haddonfield, hoping to warn everyone in time that the boogeyman has returned.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Though Loomis essentially plays the same version of the character as before, this time he’s doing so with ten more years on his face and in his voice, and with ten more years of regret in his heart. In <b>Halloween </b>and <b>Halloween 2</b>, Loomis was curt, bossy, and domineering, but always with Haddonfield’s safety at heart. That bossiness remains, but this time it comes from a place of pure desperation. Though he’s not offered any standout monologue moments like his famous “devil’s eyes” scene from the original, he’s still given plenty of opportunities to chew the scenery, either by letting loose in explosive confrontational moments with cynical characters or by ably selling some pretty heavy-handed dialogue. (<i>No one else</i> could have pulled off, “They survived this ordeal; they’ll survive its memory.”) Along with the original, <b>Halloween 4</b> presents the most archetypal iteration of Sam Loomis—the one that strays closest to fans’ perceptions of who the character is, what he looks like, and how haunted and broken he’s become over his self-professed failures. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvuGUALkZVZQ2_9KcyQHal6bLB2PWwTFfXmBeK1BveTZW5j_vrkNGOnzVAFW_MBcuiTQ9cM8aCA5Wdc-g6qZkIxvXHexcjd2TNIi9IMg8TFyVGuAZy-s-kMQYOnuyT26-K1AUciTBZ28/s1280/halloween-4-12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="1280" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvuGUALkZVZQ2_9KcyQHal6bLB2PWwTFfXmBeK1BveTZW5j_vrkNGOnzVAFW_MBcuiTQ9cM8aCA5Wdc-g6qZkIxvXHexcjd2TNIi9IMg8TFyVGuAZy-s-kMQYOnuyT26-K1AUciTBZ28/w640-h350/halloween-4-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There comes a time when a topic can become exhaustively over-explored, which is why I’ve spent years writing about the <b>Halloween </b>series without ever specifically writing about the original, and which is why I’m also having trouble adequately celebrating the talents and legacy of Donald Pleasence. There’s absolutely nothing new to be said about him. Somehow, even the word “legend” feels lacking when addressing his power as an actor, his immortal staying power as Dr. Loomis (it’s the defining role of his career, yet he wasn’t Carpenter’s first choice), and whose sad eyes and obsessive madness will be sorely missed in every <b>Halloween </b>sequel to come. In <b>Halloween 4</b>, he turns Loomis up to eleven. The guilt and determination that’s driven him thus far has metastasized into maddening fixation; he’s gone from a psychiatrist disillusioned by his failure to counsel a child to a bounty hunter on the prowl in hopes of destroying the murderous man that child has become. His transformation into Ahab is complete and only death will stop him from hunting his white whale.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In response to savvier audiences, <b>Halloween 4</b> smartly tweaks the concept of the “final girl,” made iconic by Jamie Lee Curtis, in an effort to keep the formula fresh while also remaining loyal to it. The screenplay by Alan McElroy deconstructs and redistributes the “final girl” title among our two female leads, maintaining all the expected characteristics but presenting them in a different dynamic. It’s the character of Rachel (Ellie Cornell) that falls in line with the classic heroic sense of the final girl, proving herself to be Ripley-tough—and not just against The Shape, but in everyday life when fending off her aggressive boyfriend, Brady (Sasha Jenson), or marking her territory against drugstore sexpot Kelly (Kathleen Kinmont), her competition for his affections. “Wise up to what men want,” Kelly tells her, all but confirming Rachel’s virginity—again in keeping with the final girl’s characteristic purity. Like Laurie Strode, Rachel is smart, capable, and aware of what’s going on around her, even when dealing with her own teenaged angst. Little Jamie, however, because of her age and the emotional baggage she carries, takes on the umbrage of the final girl’s victimization as the killer’s ultimate target, forced to endure most of The Shape’s wrath and unending rage. In response, Rachel <i>has </i>to be the strong one; she becomes the Kyle Reese to Jamie’s Sarah Connor, and with her parents out of town and Haddonfield’s remaining finest chasing down drunken, friendly-firing vigilantes, she’s the only one who can save her stepsister. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaVeSbzxR4UFz8LPCqjtn7YFidjdNkfuyobmxjDVDo-H-voCwUgRuzA1iTr1r584Zdnqv8EuOjDrbmjxiesRHhCWXmS8n-iU3HXE4LntKJJaDdIXUVKrP8vMQxAgckgWAVzfZrIeqLdM/s1000/halloween-4-11.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="539" data-original-width="1000" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaVeSbzxR4UFz8LPCqjtn7YFidjdNkfuyobmxjDVDo-H-voCwUgRuzA1iTr1r584Zdnqv8EuOjDrbmjxiesRHhCWXmS8n-iU3HXE4LntKJJaDdIXUVKrP8vMQxAgckgWAVzfZrIeqLdM/w640-h344/halloween-4-11.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Really, all of the screenplay is well constructed, with evident thought behind every creative decision. The movie’s best scripted scene is the one shared between Loomis and the eccentric Reverend Jackson P. Sayer (adorable character actor Carmen Filpi), who is kind enough to give Loomis a ride after his explosive confrontation with The Shape leaves him stranded on the road. Once Sayer’s antiquated truck appears to materialize within a cloud of dust, as if divine intervention—as if he’s an angel putting Loomis back on the path to his fate—the two share a drink…and a conversation about the apocalypse. "It always has a face and a name," Sayer claims, and Loomis can only agree. Both men acknowledge they are seeking the same thing, but both are seeking it in different places. Had this scene been excised from the final draft or first edit, no one beyond the writer would’ve noticed, but it's small touches like this that make <b>Halloween 4</b> special. The mere mention of this end-times theme elevates this entry while enhancing Carpenter’s initial concept of “evil” as a force as opposed to a philosophy, and in what form we’re all expecting it to manifest…because if we’re all looking for something different, we’re doomed to let it pass right by.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Taking over the command for Sheriff Brackett (Charles Cyphers in the previous films) is Ben Meeker, played exceedingly well by character actor Beau Starr (<b>Goodfellas</b>). His portrayal of Meeker as a no-nonsense lawman turns a potentially forgettable supporting role into strong and memorable work, and his first scene with Dr. Loomis establishes the makeup of his character. Upon Loomis entering the Haddonfield Police Department and telling them of Michael’s return, Meeker resists believing it from sheer audacity, but once Loomis convinces him, he doesn’t waste time. “What the hell can we do to prevent a repeat of ten years ago?” he growls, proving to be far more proactive and powerful than Sheriff Brackett ever was…but that’s because Brackett had been the overseer of a small, quiet, pre-tragedy town where nothing ever happened except for kids playing pranks, parking, and getting high. It’s Meeker who lords over post-tragedy Haddonfield, cursed with the knowledge that bad things can happen even in the sleepiest of towns and remaining on mental reserve just in case the Myers shit ever again hits the Haddonfield fan. Following Loomis’s revelation, he immediately scoops up The Shape’s likeliest targets and barricades them inside his fortified home outfitted with steel doors, a battery-powered CB radio, and of course, a robust arsenal. Ironically, in spite of how prepared he may have been, like his predecessor, Meeker suffers the loss of his daughter to The Shape; as has been a constant theme in the series, it would seem no amount of preparedness is enough when fate comes calling. The characters in <b>Halloween </b>and <b>Halloween 2</b> made foolish choices and engaged in reckless behavior because they didn’t share the omniscient view of the audience and didn’t know of the danger creeping up on them in the dark. In <b>Halloween 4</b>, every character is given clear indication of the danger they’re in and every character makes the smartest possible decision in the moment, and yet most characters don’t survive the night. “Fate never changes,” indeed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIifT7DsZL1PCeeeSZTBgJbHxANDmyXBCHLUcYgo9Me9SiETjmUx24gF3dO_PwGRBBD_6pCaf5M9-T7c3VEUNLRz8xysHDYPRRWOm7XyZ8_MFh5WUAckq0t3cUjkTGQ_uKIeFUTSmmDs/s1593/halloween-4-9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1593" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIifT7DsZL1PCeeeSZTBgJbHxANDmyXBCHLUcYgo9Me9SiETjmUx24gF3dO_PwGRBBD_6pCaf5M9-T7c3VEUNLRz8xysHDYPRRWOm7XyZ8_MFh5WUAckq0t3cUjkTGQ_uKIeFUTSmmDs/w640-h340/halloween-4-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">George Wilbur provides a perfectly satisfying performance as The Shape (with some assistance from <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/06/her-name-was-pamela-friday-13th-1980.html">Friday the 13th</a></b> series alumnus Tom Morga), which is sometimes undone by the less interesting costume catalog mask and the hilariously thick shoulder pads that make him look like he's got on a few mom sweaters beneath his jumpsuit. Thankfully, Wilbur is able to counteract much of his character’s clumsy presentation with his subtle mannerisms and rock-solid stature. His stillness aids in the film’s ostensibly purposeful choice to present The Shape as slowly reforming after his ten-year coma: his first appearance has him wrapped in mummy-like bandages and strapped, unmoving, to a hospital gurney, his flaccid hand hanging loosely at his side…but then on his feet with his hospital gown hanging off him like shedding skin…and then free of his hospital garb and inside a freshly obtained mechanic’s jumpsuit…and then, finally, within a brand-new mask. The newfound knowledge of his niece’s existence has given him “purpose” again, and that purpose shows him regenerating until he’s back to being the masked maniac that’s lived only within the nightmares of Haddonfield for the last decade.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Though his screen time is limited, even Michael Pataki (<b>Rocky 4</b>) as Hoffman, medical administrator at Ridgemont Federal Sanitarium, offers a new dynamic as the “other” doctor—not the one chasing down evil in the night, but the one faced with the uncomfortable logistics and potential liability of keeping a comatose and evidently indestructible murderer in his hospital. Hoffman doesn’t want Michael destroyed, vanquished, or exorcised of the “evil” inside him—he just wants him gone and out of his medical jurisdiction. “Michael Myers is now in your hands,” he says to the Smith’s Grove personnel who come to transport him away from Ridgemont—and he says it for a reason: it’s his disclaimer, his end-of-watch sign-off, his mandate that whatever happens with Michael in the future won’t fall on his head. And yet his last scene sees him watching from the shore as Dr. Loomis, undaunted, walks into a shallow creek to examine the bloodied and mangled transport ambulance that’s been driven off the road. It’s then Hoffman understands Loomis has been right all along, that realization reflecting in his sorrowful eyes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxKOYAdEFc6zPPjGPj0LRgNlHyhlRHERU6TQj15V3L2RFs-i_KM3MooWvEqhbNuxuYxdex5KkTCG2qrlzVVI3R1qUDsE-ktxWrBhk8lltFxz_KO9ZRcvA1suT7OIV8JNaQKFfDJvfxg0/s1916/halloween-4-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1916" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxKOYAdEFc6zPPjGPj0LRgNlHyhlRHERU6TQj15V3L2RFs-i_KM3MooWvEqhbNuxuYxdex5KkTCG2qrlzVVI3R1qUDsE-ktxWrBhk8lltFxz_KO9ZRcvA1suT7OIV8JNaQKFfDJvfxg0/w640-h346/halloween-4-3.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Director Dwight Little (of <b>Marked for Death</b> fame, also starring Danielle Harris) deserved a more prolific career directing features, but he eventually made the successful jump to television, having helmed episodes of <b>The X-Files</b>, <b>Prison Break</b>, and <b>24</b>. Similar to Hollywood’s modern practices, an independent film called <b>Bloodstone </b>caught the attention of Moustapha Akkad, who offered the unknown director the gig. Little proved he was the right man to follow in Carpenter’s footsteps, insisting on rich storytelling, fleshed out characters, mood, and terror. Little knows when to dial it back and rest on suspense, and he knows when to kick things into gear and get the pulse racing. Just look to the opening credit sequence—it doesn't feature the usual single glowing jack-o-lantern hugged by blackness or a montage of newspaper clippings to get us all caught up. Instead, Little presents static, abstract shots of small-town Haddonfield—Americana, really—on the cusp of October 31st. Familiar icons like pumpkins, skeletons, and scarecrows wielding rusty hatchets are on display in midwestern farmland settings and set to ominous, non-melodic music by returning composer Alan Howarth. That opening sequence exists for no other reason than to show you that behind Haddonfield's Halloween is an underbelly of fear and blood—that for other places in the world, Halloween is just another holiday, but in this small Illinois town, it’s a reminder of wounds long scarred over yet nowhere near healed. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Though Michael’s carnage fills the streets and quite a few bodies drop, <b>Halloween 4</b> is only occasionally violent, obscuring or suggesting much of its bloodletting and mostly falling back on a restrained approach. When compared to the entries in the <b>Friday the 13th</b>, <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-game-is-finished-rise-and-fall-of.html">Phantasm</a></b>, and <b>Nightmare on Elm Street</b> franchises released that same year, and all which perpetrated an eye-popping level of violence against their audiences, <b>Halloween 4</b> was downright tame by comparison—and that’s because Little looked to Carpenter’s original for inspiration. Dark and shadows, camera tricks <i>suggesting </i>violence without <i>showing </i>it, fleeting glimpses of The Shape, an emphasis on developed and likeable characters—these are things that made the first film great, and they are also the things that make <b>Halloween 4 </b>more than just another sequel. But in a move echoing <b>Halloween 2</b>'s troubled production, several days of additional shooting occurred to beef up the movie's violence in favor of audience expectations, as early cuts had been stingy with the gore. This minor meddling isn’t a detriment, however; sudden violence in a movie otherwise trying to avoid it still contains the power to shock, whether or not it runs congruently with the director’s intention.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMgKm7qAgXqXVFQG1SO9ytZjEuWuzcTBYTmIwaSq0mu99vsjOE4rZI0W8Q7euWgNkuELVfSwBqydbYtFaYq0NCCCXmGdt20mFIE9iqTOtBuxh0tWjEpXaJ-sw84X6H2ifx4X2vBPD8pA/s1600/halloween-4-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMgKm7qAgXqXVFQG1SO9ytZjEuWuzcTBYTmIwaSq0mu99vsjOE4rZI0W8Q7euWgNkuELVfSwBqydbYtFaYq0NCCCXmGdt20mFIE9iqTOtBuxh0tWjEpXaJ-sw84X6H2ifx4X2vBPD8pA/w640-h360/halloween-4-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Little isn’t content to just crib from Carpenter’s playbook, though, infusing new concepts into the series and new ways to execute them. The movie’s last act, in which some truck-driving good-ol-boys transport Rachel and Jamie out of Haddonfield, is <i>the </i>highlight of <b>Halloween 4</b>, filled with propulsive action and bonafide fear, as Michael dispatches one character after the other, tearing faces, stabbing spines, and tossing them off a speeding truck. The entire sequence is sublime, embracing one of the core philosophies of the sequel: go bigger. Like the first <b>Halloween</b>, the action of <b>Halloween 4</b> builds and builds before “ending” inside a dark suburban home, but unlike the first film, The Shape doesn’t disappear into the night because he’s not yet done with our characters. The carnage continues, spilling out of that dark suburban home and onto its own high-peaked roof before ending up on the nearest highway out of town, not only opening up the “world” of Haddonfield but eerily reminding the audience that Michael Myers can go <i>anywhere</i>—that he’s not constrained by a town boundary line—that all he needs is a ride. And as for that shock ending, holy fuck. That last-act moment of Jamie holding those bloody scissors and Loomis seeing his vilest nightmare starting over from the beginning and shouting himself hoarse before beginning to sob—all playing out over the <b>Halloween </b>theme—has never once failed to give me chills.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Speaking of, <b>Halloween 4</b> sees longtime series composer Alan Howarth going solo without Carpenter for the first time, and though he’s eager to jump right into the <b>Halloween </b>theme, he’s sly with his approach. While the film utilizes the infamous theme several times, it never sounds the same from one sequence to the next: when The Shape is being loaded onto the Smith’s Grove ambulance, it’s propulsive and ominous; when the convoy of beer bellies are patrolling the town with their rifles and shotguns, it’s focused and militaristic; and when The Shape is on the roof of the truck during the highway finale, the theme truly comes to life—it’s quick-paced, frantic, and relentless, matching the most action-oriented sequence seen in the series up to that point. Outside of the main theme, Howarth doesn’t rest on his laurels and barely revisits some of the previous movies’ themes, intent on injecting his own original music into the franchise. Like the very movie he’s scoring, Howarth’s music is the peak of his solo work across all the sequels.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzkD0wAQHwGpLvhpVLyT0UQNI5smm3S4aZdsK-RY1UOxa0rLOPGRdnvSZJrWIkqC5MG_JutweaJORpfm-gNJCttmZIXfYfhR-Bb1uBMab_mAUFczOxhB74nyPaNzv7i1VUT9ygV0qnHw/s1920/halloween-4-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzkD0wAQHwGpLvhpVLyT0UQNI5smm3S4aZdsK-RY1UOxa0rLOPGRdnvSZJrWIkqC5MG_JutweaJORpfm-gNJCttmZIXfYfhR-Bb1uBMab_mAUFczOxhB74nyPaNzv7i1VUT9ygV0qnHw/w640-h360/halloween-4-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Halloween 4: The Return Of Michael Myers</b> was a new beginning for the re-born series, but also the beginning of the end, as the next two lackluster sequels would get mired in new directions so strange and mythology so confounding that audience interest couldn’t sustain, leading the series to be retconned <i>twice</i>—first by 1998’s <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">Halloween: H20</a></b>, which rendered parts 4-6 irrelevant, and again by 2018’s sequel, which rendered <i>everything </i>irrelevant except Carpenter’s original. Until this era of reboots and retcons, <b>Halloween 4</b> had been the only worthwhile entry that preserved the core story begun in 1978 and had proven to be the last entry that focused more on thrills, suspense, and well-developed characters as opposed to one-dimensional bloodbags destined for garish and graphic kill scenes. Poor <b>Halloween 4</b> had done the impossible: resurrected the boogeyman, created new characters to carry the mantle, and revived the series after <b>Halloween 2</b> had concluded it and <b>Halloween 3</b> had reinvented it. Time has proven the series’ intermittent fresh-start approach to be the right call each time, as they consistently returned reasonable respectability to the <b>Halloween </b>name, even if they left behind a wacky trajectory of three different continuities for fans to navigate. Proving that is the fresh release of the polarizing and disappointing <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-kills-2021.html">Halloween Kills</a></b>, which sees interest in the series at an all-time high while once again boasting the return of Jamie Lee Curtis in her <i>sixth </i>appearance as Laurie Strode, the quintessential final girl. (Her seventh and “final” go-round will be in next year’s <b>Halloween Ends</b>.) Though <b>Halloween: H20</b> was the first sequel to reboot the Michael Myers story and resurrect its towering reputation after the dismal <b>Halloween 6</b> (which had done so much damage to the series that the initial version of <b>Halloween 7 </b>sans Curtis was destined for a direct-to-video debut), it was also a little sad: seeing Laurie Strode battle the boogeyman once again was the stuff of fan dreams, but <i>her </i>return to the series had erased her daughter completely out of existence—and while <b>Halloween: H20</b> was a worthy sequel, it was no <b>Halloween 4</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZ3uev0kM7XhI3Ow55jvkRQiF5IiS15A8bP6sucPf8w0fG0hgQU8LRXyt3rRCt7CXNm8hfInT3JonQ0q58KImHXI3Mns1C9YjCtExx4cOv_DBaR5qcrDtUKO0YalaBfJQvhY4ng0vHhw/s500/halloween-4-13.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="500" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEZ3uev0kM7XhI3Ow55jvkRQiF5IiS15A8bP6sucPf8w0fG0hgQU8LRXyt3rRCt7CXNm8hfInT3JonQ0q58KImHXI3Mns1C9YjCtExx4cOv_DBaR5qcrDtUKO0YalaBfJQvhY4ng0vHhw/w640-h334/halloween-4-13.gif" width="640" /></a></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-44803656011511361422021-10-17T12:04:00.008-04:002023-06-01T17:04:20.463-04:00HALLOWEEN 4: THE RETURN OF MICHAEL MYERS — FULL NBC BROADCAST, 1989<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgG2yv1cCyTzm4Rk3loiX43BSbXwTVnO9G8zbTW1G3MhroF0dyQuLX-0oaeKALoTyxgSuiFtqm0JiE7LdcBxvEfnxQigWcAThJTJqTFwbzanCpyBUi2D9Dc5RjSBqx0KYT1pQn2w3tHU/s621/halloween-4-nbc-broadcast.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="621" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHgG2yv1cCyTzm4Rk3loiX43BSbXwTVnO9G8zbTW1G3MhroF0dyQuLX-0oaeKALoTyxgSuiFtqm0JiE7LdcBxvEfnxQigWcAThJTJqTFwbzanCpyBUi2D9Dc5RjSBqx0KYT1pQn2w3tHU/w640-h486/halloween-4-nbc-broadcast.png" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Following my previous fan edit "broadcast" of George A. Romero's <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/05/teos-theater-dawn-of-dead-1978-full-cbs.html"><b>Dawn of the Dead</b></a>, I decided to do something similar in honor of the spooky season. Much like <b>Dawn of the Dead</b>, some of the <b>Halloween</b> sequels never enjoyed network broadcasts in their heyday. To date, the most high profile broadcast of a <b>Halloween</b> movie was the 1978 original, which premiered on NBC in 1981 the same weekend that <b>Halloween II</b> opened in theaters. (This was the edit that's become known as the "television version," which includes three new sequences shot by Carpenter using <b>Halloween II'</b>s crew to help pad the running time to fit within a two-hour time slot.) While <b>Halloween II</b> and <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2014/10/halloween-it-aint-that-bad-halloween-3.html">Halloween III: Season of the Witch</a></b> <i>did</i> air on television in the mid-1980s, both aired on affiliate channels with pre-existing licensing agreements with Universal Studios, who owned both sequels (and who also own the current <b>Halloween </b>timeline, comprising <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/04/halloween-2018.html">2018's reboot</a> and this year's disappointing <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-kills-2021.html">Halloween Kills</a></b>). <a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2021/10/halloween-4.html"><b>Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers</b></a> and <b>Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers</b> were made independently and never aired on network television or even on local syndicates outside of premium cable channels. Because of this, and being someone who owns a copy of every known broadcast of a <b>Halloween </b>movie, the lack of <b>Halloween 4</b> always felt...wrong. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Decades spent watching the <b>Halloween </b>series has allowed me to embrace a possibly controversial truth: after Carpenter's original, <b>Halloween 4 </b>is my favorite of the series by a lot (not counting the Shapeless <b>Halloween III</b>, which is nearly tied). There's a variety of reasoning behind this: one, it's well made and appears genuinely respectful of the source material; two, because if you've stuck with the series through thick and thin, then you know how off-the-rails the series went with each timeline, making <b>Halloween 4</b> look better and better by comparison; and three, and this is the biggest one—nostalgia. While the series' original run that began with the very first and ended with 1998's <b><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2019/10/halloween-2018-one-year-later.html">Halloween: H20</a></b> all lovingly exists under that warm and comforting nostalgia blanket, there's something about <b>Halloween 4</b> that really hits me in the feels. All of that is what led me not just to fan-editing a network broadcast that never actually happened, but it had direct influence on <i>how </i>I designed the edit. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">With my <b>Dawn of the Dead </b>edit, I kept all commercials confined to a late-70s and very-early-80s aesthetic, with most of the commercials being in-jokes based on <b>Dawn of the Dead</b>'s content. (There's a bonafide commercial for Monroeville Mall—that kinda thing.) With <b>Halloween 4</b>, I kept the era appropriate to 1989 or close to it, but I also I made it a full-on nostalgia boner for everything Halloween season—commercials for costumes and makeup, all kinds of weird and spooky 900 numbers geared towards children (including Freddy Krueger's infamous hotline), and of course, TV spots for notable or infamous horror flicks released that year. It was designed for background play during your Halloween party, <i>or</i> to sit down and watch in its entirety—the hope is to stoke your own fires of nostalgia as you get lost in this more and more celebrated decade. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Like <b>Dawn of the Dead</b>, this edit of <b>Halloween 4 </b>has been censored for content to adhere to network standards, but luckily, <i>unlike</i> <b>Dawn of the Dead</b>, <b>Halloween 4</b> didn't have that<i> </i>much content to remove because it was a pretty tame and chaste sequel compared to what would come in the franchise's future, so this edit isn't very jarring. It also felt right using NBC as the hosting network, as it had aired the premiere of the original almost a decade previous to this one—it felt like the series had gone home. I hope you enjoy this newest addition of TEOS Theater and can embrace the shitty-on-purpose look and feel of a broadcast recording designed to look like a 37th generation copy—all blips, static, and tracking issues included.</p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/REuCQzLHgFY" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-25747043665099731242021-10-11T00:00:00.001-04:002021-10-11T00:00:00.330-04:00JOHN CARPENTER'S HALLOWEEN SAFETY PSA<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="324" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XkhtRvFQb3I" width="487" youtube-src-id="XkhtRvFQb3I"></iframe></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Something I made for a laugh to celebrate the spooky season: a remix of the 1985 Centron Halloween Safety PSA, this time with footage from <b>Halloween</b>, along with cameos from <b>Halloween 2</b> and <b>Halloween 3: Season of the Witch</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Every apology in the world to John Carpenter.</div><p></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-30921349782207695102021-10-07T11:43:00.004-04:002021-10-07T11:43:31.693-04:00LEGEND OF THE SCARECROW<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vcgvUxD43-k" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A complete and total tip of the hat to <a href="https://shellhawksnest.blogspot.com/">ShellHawk's Nest</a> for turning me onto this beautiful short film entitled "The Legend of the Scarecrow," about a lonely scarecrow who only wants to befriend the crows that visit his field. It has elements of <i>Frankenstein </i>and Poe and TEARS. Be sure to check it out.</p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-15346380497005032192021-10-05T00:00:00.014-04:002021-10-08T07:25:00.271-04:00PLAYLIST: HALLOWEEN – SEASON OF THE HITS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDaFRKeMaHQqW9C0ah7gfh1G-ffKnlG-rXRm2vC-YSfEzp0YFd19s0u4FDmgHmbk0RMljiCES95cooIHeg58Tlb6RnF9Rva096vXJSEJ0-Pc3QbQgg0TIaSUUkE2vZhYG4Bey0sml0Aw/s1084/Halloween+Pt.+11+-+Clean.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1084" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDaFRKeMaHQqW9C0ah7gfh1G-ffKnlG-rXRm2vC-YSfEzp0YFd19s0u4FDmgHmbk0RMljiCES95cooIHeg58Tlb6RnF9Rva096vXJSEJ0-Pc3QbQgg0TIaSUUkE2vZhYG4Bey0sml0Aw/w640-h590/Halloween+Pt.+11+-+Clean.png" width="640" /></a></div><p>Another round of Halloween listenin' for the year of our gourd 2021.</p><p>This one really fought me this year. Hopefully it doesn't suck.</p><p>Allow me to soundtrack your spooky season: </p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/0bP8kCWaCASTtRlQhvVjC1" width="100%"></iframe></div>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4705731426489274324.post-50477613277449114772021-10-04T09:35:00.003-04:002021-10-08T18:20:43.332-04:00NIGHT OF THE ANIMATED DEAD (2021)<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JS9QmQlW8VLLqtaCRlpPTjRN_caxBeWWsiIOcz3kNWDl8EQzFpe2y-V41QRA1lmMCAJkY_Jz7me4jJReR-OBW6g2n0MJ0LQ7tIURMzBOTs7FHDjsUqo78Oon8I1dvlWS_tw1Oh-VqcI/s1296/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="1296" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JS9QmQlW8VLLqtaCRlpPTjRN_caxBeWWsiIOcz3kNWDl8EQzFpe2y-V41QRA1lmMCAJkY_Jz7me4jJReR-OBW6g2n0MJ0LQ7tIURMzBOTs7FHDjsUqo78Oon8I1dvlWS_tw1Oh-VqcI/w640-h360/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There’s never been a more abused
horror title than George A. Romero’s original <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/07/night-of-living-dead-1968.html">Night of the Living Dead</a> </b>(1968), as its strange and immediate
classification as a public domain title allowed decades of ensuing filmmakers
to pick its bones in all kinds of ways without legal ramifications, from creating
unauthorized remakes to remixing the movie with new edits and presentations to straight
up showing scenes from the movie in their own low budget endeavors. At this
point, I’ve seen more characters in horror films settle down in front of their
TVs on Halloween night and begin watching <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night
of the Living Dead</b> then I’ve seen them wandering around dark houses or
backyards while asking, “Is anyone there?” (I can speak with authority on this
because even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ve</i> been personally
involved with two<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>crappy projects
that desperately clung to the OG movie’s coattails. Any<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>moron can do it.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To date, only one project,
officially sanctioned by Romero, has brought any class to the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Living Dead</b> name and
that’s been the 1990 remake by longtime Romero collaborator and special effects
maestro Tom Savini, which starred Candyman himself, Tony Todd, as the ill-fated
Ben. Since then, we’ve had 1998’s 30<sup>th</sup> anniversary edition of<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> Night of the Living Dead</b>,<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>which went back to the original movie and
added newly filmed scenes to fill in some of the “gaps,” and which included
returning actors who were very clearly thirty years older, as well as 2001’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Children Of The Living Dead</b>, starring a
now-regretful Savini, which was designed to be a direct sequel to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>specific version of the movie and
has since been disowned by nearly everyone involved in its making. Then came <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Living Dead 3D</b> (2006) with
Sid Haig, in which zombie Johnny TEXTS his beleaguered sister with “COMING 4 U
BARB,” and its prequel <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the
Living Dead 3D: Re-Animation</b> (2012) with Jeffrey Combs. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mimesis: Night of the Living Dead </b>(2011)
vied for a meta-approach by taking its own universe and meshing it with that of
the classic undead zombie shocker. 2015’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night
of the Living Dead: Darkest Dawn</b> was the first attempt to present an
all-animated take on the zombie classic and was produced by, of all people, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Con Air</b>’s Simon West, and featured
voicework by Danielle Harris and a returning Tony Todd. Honestly, this list
could keep going but it’s already becoming tedious, so the last one I’ll
mention is the recently filmed, odd-but-curious sounding project <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Living Dead II</b>, which
seems to be more of a straight-up sequel to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Day of the Dead</b> (1985), as it brings back the main trio of Lori
Cardille, Terry Alexander, and Jarlath Conroy. As you can see, nothing about
Romero’s original is safe – not the concept, not the title, and not the actual
film, which is a trend that refuses to stay buried, as we now have <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead</b>, courtesy of
Warner Bros., who hasn’t touched hands with anything remotely tied to this
universe since 1988’s lousy but harmless <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://the-end-of-summer.blogspot.com/2020/07/return-of-living-dead-2-1986.html">Return of the Living Dead II</a></b>. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYb4aRjSCtJKpHgTx_itrh5WiHC9M50cl0UqzkifpYvxLg191gF8fLVBqKbKGyGLDngOsxf8z4o3huUnOpo1DItbOQY3182JdgDZ6AxjNQDpxVfH-MQ3U22rLAUGtSDH6u4ASUi8Vt0s/s2040/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="2040" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYb4aRjSCtJKpHgTx_itrh5WiHC9M50cl0UqzkifpYvxLg191gF8fLVBqKbKGyGLDngOsxf8z4o3huUnOpo1DItbOQY3182JdgDZ6AxjNQDpxVfH-MQ3U22rLAUGtSDH6u4ASUi8Vt0s/w640-h344/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">With voicework by people you’ve
actually heard of, like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The West Wing</b>’s
Dulé Hill, the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Transformers</b> series’
Josh Duhamel, and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">It’s Always Sunny</b>’s
Jimmi Simpson, as well as the animation’s mostly loyal depictions of the
characters/actors from the original film, it’s tempting to think this return
trip to the well has finally figured out how to rebirth Romero’s film in a way
that’s honorable, entertaining, and even substantive. Known actors, familiar
characters, a major studio – clearly, they’ve nailed it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this </i>time, right? But if you think <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead</b> is going to be the title that finally<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>gets it right, then buddy, you’re
chewing a mouthful of Greek salad.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Die-hard fans of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Living Dead </b>will notice as
soon as it starts that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated
Dead</b> is using the original screenplay nearly word for word, which
immediately robs the movie of any suspense. Instead of pondering what will
happen and the new directions the movie will explore, your anticipation will be
reduced to a basic curiosity for how the animators will present some of the
original’s more notable sequences. This kind of approach to a movie, especially
one you know so well, frankly isn’t enough to keep interest sustained, so once
the novelty of the animation wears off, and once the first few words of each
voice performer are spoken and you get the sense of how that performer meshes
with his or her character, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the
Animated Dead</b> has trouble keeping viewers invested. One would also assume,
being what it is, that the animation on display would be impressive, what with
it being the selling point of the movie, but it’s not. It’s haphazardly done and very cheap looking, with herky-jerky movements that, at
times, can actually be nausea-inducing. It’s that kind of Hanna-Barbera
animation where if none of the characters are speaking to each other, everyone’s
at a dead still like a photograph, and this happens so many times that you
begin to wonder if your Blu-ray player is on the fritz. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhaU5bc0lBQrnC0xR3pxDO-n5ZzssCXQ_yK2FRn2SNryMIOYGMKmzXmGxms3ta40Gx707-v29I54cMyLlEr4fSgPEHJdTRz2mJ4ZLRNgOfGwMJSeC9CcbGqT9NWJ7zwqZeMUNKsYd8rQ/s1500/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1500" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhaU5bc0lBQrnC0xR3pxDO-n5ZzssCXQ_yK2FRn2SNryMIOYGMKmzXmGxms3ta40Gx707-v29I54cMyLlEr4fSgPEHJdTRz2mJ4ZLRNgOfGwMJSeC9CcbGqT9NWJ7zwqZeMUNKsYd8rQ/w640-h360/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The voicework ranges from
perfectly fine to downright confounding, and it’s difficult to ascertain if
certain choices were purposely made or accidental byproducts of the actors’
voice performances. Hill’s take on Ben is much gruffer than Duane Jones’, while
Duhamel’s take on Harry is more subdued than Karl Hardman’s, whose Harry Cooper
is still one of the all-time great dicks in cinema—and this while recognizing
that Hardman <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wasn’t </i>a professional actor.
This might not feel like a big deal, but the dynamic shared between Jones and
Hardman in the original movie put them on equal footing: they were both
comparably bossy, domineering, and alpha male. Meanwhile, Hill comes off as the
aggressor while Duhamel makes Harry Cooper seem more desperate and afraid, and
whose dickishness seems to spur from fear instead of dominance and egotism. For
reasons that should be obvious, and considering the decades of film theory that
have examined the racial themes in the original movie, that’s…not a good thing
to present for 2021. Really, the only voice actor who seems entirely
comfortable with her work is Nancy Travis, who voices Helen Cooper. Confident
with the medium and with a firm grasp on her character, hers is the only
performance that blends well into the presentation; meanwhile, the other
actors’ voice performances consistently blast you back out again. (Katee
Sackhoff as Judy is bewilderingly bad.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The only new thing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead </b>brings to
the table is its graphic depiction of violence, which was left unexplored in
the original movie (at least by comparison). Instead of Johnny bumping his head
on a tombstone, now his skull cracks open, brains leak out, and blood pours
from every hole in his face. Instead of Tom and Judy blowing up unseen in a
pickup truck, the engine block explodes through their windshield and takes out
whole chunks of his face and her neck. It’s gratuitous, for sure, but it also
comes across as disrespectful, though I can’t say why, considering how
hyperviolent Romero himself would make his later sequels. And maybe that’s
because the filmmakers felt constrained by sticking with the original
screenplay <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and </i>even the physical
appearances of the original actors, so this was their way of putting their
stamp on the movie…but then again, who asked them to stay so loyal in the first
place?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyfqbvu9Ga-Pn_a7k8uViakpFksPO5XiS6fU-hqg0kvJWOuQ-k8p0MdZYpLUrg6FG5GcdUSGeWLsVX78RggpoDDMt94m37FpWcS3MfGgWbhvJVHBEiTy9qz-p6OX8k6F0IosqJpyZAn4/s1280/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyfqbvu9Ga-Pn_a7k8uViakpFksPO5XiS6fU-hqg0kvJWOuQ-k8p0MdZYpLUrg6FG5GcdUSGeWLsVX78RggpoDDMt94m37FpWcS3MfGgWbhvJVHBEiTy9qz-p6OX8k6F0IosqJpyZAn4/w640-h360/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Really, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead </b>never feels respectful to its parentage,
even if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">does </i>reuse the same words
Romero wrote and the physical embodiments of the actors Romero cast. Even
certain scenes’ choreography and staging are re-used, as if the filmmakers were
looking at the original movie’s storyboards when creating their animations. But
one thing stuck out more than anything else: in spite of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead </b>borrowing the script, the actors, and
the shot setups from the original movie, one scene in particular was pared down
from its original incarnation, which Romero and co. had filmed guerilla style
in Washington, DC, and depicted several governmental figures being grilled by
the media while walking down the busy city street on the way to their car.
Instead of re-using this walk-and-talk sequence, those same three government
figures are placed in front of a static shot of the Capitol Dome while fielding
questions from off-screen reporters—which, in essence, completely removes
Romero’s in-film cameo as a reporter from this new iteration. I have to wonder if
the filmmakers of this new version even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew
</i>he was in that scene to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t,
because if they did, why cut the director out of his own movie? Why not take
that moment to tip their hat to the man whose seminal film they’re making a
buck off? That, right there, seems to sum up <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the Animated Dead</b>: it’s the same screenplay, the same
“actors,” and mostly the same shot compositions, and yet, somehow, there’s a
complete lack of George A. Romero. And that’s the worst thing this newest take
on the title could’ve done.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I wish I could delude myself and believe
that, at the very least, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Night of the
Animated Dead </b>might help to introduce the original film to newer audiences,
but I doubt that’ll be the case. If you’re born with horror in your blood, that
path was always going to lead you to the godfather of the zombie sub-genre
anyway; for the newest generation, however, there are an army of imitators to
wade through before arriving at the main event. One thing’s for sure: it’s more
than worth the journey.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_IYzMjngLb9ARLTRDjE51Hyrnoq3LtawKwABdJqJo8jguK67RKUgUnuIENMkOLUninL0Q49Exf9Rw9uda1A_n1z_EQx5zvzsFD1uAEtPiCDjB_dZu3yn3Jn6W3h4YyZvor9paDlvXxs/s750/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_IYzMjngLb9ARLTRDjE51Hyrnoq3LtawKwABdJqJo8jguK67RKUgUnuIENMkOLUninL0Q49Exf9Rw9uda1A_n1z_EQx5zvzsFD1uAEtPiCDjB_dZu3yn3Jn6W3h4YyZvor9paDlvXxs/w640-h320/night-of-the-animated-dead-2021-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>TEOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05665899455536414080noreply@blogger.com0