Apr 18, 2013

REVIEW: EVIL DEAD

 
(Spoilers abound.)

With the release of Evil Dead, the umpteenth remake of a beloved horror property, I think it’s safe to say the redo/reboot/reimagining craze might be coming to an end. After all, every hot title from the ‘70s and ‘80s has been modified for newer audiences, with a range of quality from excellent to downright maudlin. Our remaining and untouched heavyweight titles are The Exorcist and Jaws, and despite having said the same things about Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street, I doubt studios have the balls to try.

In the case of films like Halloween, a remake wasn’t at all necessary. Halloween, while not perfect, is damn near, and remains probably the greatest slasher movie of all time. However, in the case of Children of the Corn or Prom Night, there wasn’t too much outrage. Fans of those films or not, no one could argue they were perfect, or even good, and so there was massive room for improvement.

And then you have 1981’s The Evil Dead, a near-impossible film to recreate. Not because it’s flawless – far from it – but because of the circumstances under which it was made, and how those circumstances crafted the film and made it something extra special. To sit down and watch The Evil Dead for the first time (if it was the remake that led you there) is a fool’s errand. Quite frankly, the remake would be just that much better by default. A certain level of appreciation for guerilla-like film-making and no-budget improvisation are the direct result of The Evil Dead’s fan love. Sam Raimi and Co. had very little skill and even less money. And it shows, by god. The Evil Dead, as far as “should it be remade?” criteria goes, falls somewhere in the middle between the high watermark Halloween and lower titles like Mother’s Day or Night of the Demons. It was, simply, great and fun, and it skated by on its can-do attitude, but it also had massive room for improvement.

So Evil Dead 2013 (dropping 'The," because time is money) is finally arriving in theaters after years and years of speculation. And what a mixed affair it is. A twist on the old concept is a good one, to be fair: a group of friends are assembling in an old family cabin deep in the woods to take part in a drug intervention for Mia (Jane Levy), sister of David (Shiloh Fernandez). These two have history, involving a dead crazy mother and feelings of abandonment when one sibling couldn’t deal with all the goings-on and peaced out. But after Mia’s last overdose, which was nearly fatal, she’s decided enough is enough. She tosses her junk down a well and announces it’s now or never.

Then someone finds that damned book bound by human flesh and inked in blood, reads it, Mia is raped by a tree, and all hell breaks loose. Hey, sound familiar? It should, because except for a few million more dollars used directly on special effects and production design, you’re not going to be seeing anything new.


Last year’s Cabin in the Woods was successful in not only lovingly sending up the horror genre, but in rendering this remake completely irrelevant before it ever existed. After all the insane mythology that Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard created in that super-fun and meta blast, kids in the woods getting mutilated simply isn’t enough anymore. Cabin in the Woods was a “game changer,” a term I abhor using, but one that is absolutely imperative to use here.

The script for Evil Dead isn’t real because there is no script. It’s filled with the kind of lazy exposition that I’ve grown to hate in films: when one character manages to shoe-horn information about the person to whom they are speaking: “Why, hello, Hairy Bearded Man! I see you have taken time off from your career as a high school teacher to be with us at this, my younger sister’s intervention!” Give me a fucking break.

The prologue, involving a witch, a group of inbred creepsters, and a father burning his own possessed daughter alive, promises something different and new. It promises a fleshed-out history of the Naturum De Montum, and a dabbling in everything that has come before the events soon to unfold. But after the opening, it’s the same story involving the same archetypes. Oh, only one of them is black now. How fine. And one of these characters is so terribly underutilized that you’d be hard pressed to remember her name (if it’s ever even spoken aloud). At least every other character is given some kind of trait or background to flesh them out them just a little, but for this one in particular, she’s clearly there to die horribly (after nonsensically cutting off her own hand, because hey, remember when the older movies did that??).

Evil Dead is 90 minutes of one character walking from one room into another, seeing something fucked up, and becoming possessed/mutilated/killed because of it. That’s… basically it. Watch as Girl goes into the bathroom and begins cutting off her own face, and then watch as Boy goes into that same bathroom a few minutes later to see what’s taking Girl so long. Say, what’s Girl # 2 doing? Oh, nothing – just walking around as everything goes to shit around her. Guess she’ll go into the cellar, where she gets stabbed and threatened with demon cunnilingus.

Oh, speaking of, can we please have a moratorium on foul-mouthed, sexually explicit demon talk going forward? Yes, The Exorcist did it. Yes, it was effective…forty years ago. Let’s just stop. A demon threatening to give you a blowjob is not scary. Not whatsoever. It makes audiences laugh, as it should. If that’s your idea of scary, then Evil Dead is for you. Try to fit it somewhere in between your viewings of "South Park."


If I were still in high school, then I would call Evil Dead “fucking cool, dudes!” I would have been easily swayed by the film’s cameos – of the Oldsmobile, of Bruce Campbell’s post-credit one-liner, and of the original film’s audio recording that details the history of the Naturum De Montum. And I admit to laughing out loud during the end credits when seeing the “Fake Shemps” list. But watching this film with mature eyes, after a previous decade of horror remakes actually trying new things with old concepts, all of this so-called love and reverence for the original seems like nothing more than pandering. Yes, the violence is gruesome, near cartoonish, and certainly holds up its gnarled middle finger at its baffling R-rating. Yes, a demon broad gets chain-sawed through the head and blood flies in massive clouds as the infamous cabin becomes an inferno in the background. High School Me’s boner would have penetrated the silver screen; even as a more mature viewer I’ll say it was an awesome, over-the-top moment. It just would have been that much more effective had it been preceded by something a little more in-depth and intriguing beyond “kids go to the woods, kids find evil book, kids get dead.”

People seemed very optimistic about Sam Raimi’s involvement and I have to wonder why. Obviously the original film was his baby, and if anyone was going to take care of it, it would be him. But goodness, have you seen Ghost House Production’s filmography? The Grudge series? The Messengers? Boogeyman, for fuck’s sake? Let’s just say the double-team of Raimi and Tapert don’t exactly have the same luck and eye for talent as Jason Blum, who has produced much better horror fare (Insidious, Sinister). Raimi himself hasn’t even directed a decent film since 2000’s The Gift; his bizarre and stupid Drag Me to Hell has pretty much insured that I will never care about a potential Evil Dead 4/Army of Darkness 2, which is likely to carry forward the goofy "we're in on the joke now!" tone begun in Evil Dead 2.

All of the above sounds very embittered, I know. So let’s end with some positivity. Evil Dead still remains one of the better horror remakes – certainly the best since 2009’s My Bloody Valentine. There’s nothing inherently terrible about it. Lazy script and bland characters notwithstanding, Fede Alvarez’s direction is solid. Two things that were essential in the realization of this remake were kept in place: the eerie, dreamlike and almost surreal tone of the original, and the understanding that the new film not rest on humor, which too many people incorrectly associate with the original. (Funny it may have been, it certainly hadn't set out to be.) Additionally, the first scene showing a girl wandering through the woods filled with fog, lit from above by the sun, is gorgeous, as is much of the violence soon to unfold. And in the aforementioned prologue, in which a young possessed girl gives up on trying to charm her way out of the ropes that bind her, and in her sweet, innocent voice, tells her father she’s going to rip out his soul (sounding almost conflicted about it) – before she changes into the demon that has taken hold of her – it works. It’s eerie, and it’s effective in that way a remake should be: It remembers, fondly, the source material, but attempts to try something new. It’s just a shame this wasn’t attempted for the remaining 88 minutes of the film.


If you enjoy the original The Evil Dead for what’s presented on-screen, with no reverence for the behind-the-scenes struggles the filmmakers endured in getting that bastard into theaters everywhere, then there’s no real reason why you shouldn’t enjoy the remake. It is beautiful looking and superficial entertainment at best. But if what you appreciate about the original – much like I do – is all the hell Raimi and Co. endured in getting the film made and managing to do so under the worst conditions, then there’s no reason you shouldn’t be disappointed. The tale of a 22-year-old amateur filmmaker creating a no-budget feature filled with demons, levitation, tree rape, stop-motion effects, claymation, innovative camera techniques, and oceans of blood, and driven by his love of schlock and movie-making, is far more interesting than a multi-million dollar remake funded by a major studio and produced by the guy who made Spider-Man (even if it is that same amateur filmmaker many years later).

Something special was lost in translation, and that isn’t groovy at all.

Apr 17, 2013

ELMER THE MUMMY

Elmer McCurdy (January 1880 – October 7th 1911) was an outlaw killed in a gunfight in the Osage Hills in Oklahoma. A newspaper account gave Elmer’s last words as “You’ll never take me alive!” His body was taken to a funeral home in Oklahoma. When no one claimed the corpse, the undertaker embalmed it with an arsenic-based preservative and allowed people to see “The Bandit Who Wouldn’t Give Up” for a nickel, placed in Elmer’s mouth, which the undertaker would collect later. Five years later, a man showed up from a nearby traveling carnival claiming to be Elmer’s long-lost brother wanting to give the corpse a proper burial. Within two weeks, however, Elmer was a featured exhibit with the carnival. For the next 60 years, Elmer’s body was sold to wax museums, carnivals, and haunted houses. 
The owner of a haunted house near Mount Rushmore refused to purchase him because he thought that Elmer’s body was actually a mannequin and not lifelike enough. Eventually, the corpse wound up in “The Laff in the Dark” funhouse at the Long Beach Pike amusement park in California. During filming of the The Six Million Dollar Man shot in December 1976, a crew member was moving what was thought to be a wax mannequin that was hanging from a gallows. When the mannequin’s arm broke off, it was discovered that it was in fact the mummified remains of Elmer McCurdy, who was finally buried in the Boot Hill section of the Summit View Cemetery in Guthrie, Oklahoma on April 22nd 1977, with 2 cubic yards of concrete over his casket so his remains would never be disturbed again.


Apr 16, 2013

SEVEN STEPS

There was an apartment that had one room where no one stayed for very long. Everyone left within one week of renting it. The room was on the first floor in the corner of the building and you could reach it by climbing a flight of stairs with seven steps. The landlord felt uncomfortable about the whole affair and it bothered him a lot, but one day he got a tenant who stayed well over a week. That made the landlord happy, but just to make sure everything was alright, he went to the room to check on the tenant. But no one responded to the landlord's knockings. The landlord felt something was amiss and he rang up the police. When the police arrived they broke into the room together. Inside, they found the tenant's dead body.  The cause of the death was unclear and to find out what had happened the police then went around asking for information. They managed to talk to some of the previous tenants of the room but none of them was willing to talk about the room. However in the end they managed to get one person talking. His story went like this: 
Every night a child's voice was heard. On the first night after the tenant moved in, the voice said: "Oooone step Iiii've cliiiimbed..."  
He wondered what it was but nothing else happened and so he just ignored it. But the next day he heard the same voice say: "Twooo steps Iiii've cliiiiimbed..."  
On the third day it said: "Threee steps Iiii've cliiiiiimbed..."  
And so it went on the same way, on the fourth, the fifth and the sixth day. The voice was clearly getting closer. There were only seven steps on the stairs. All previous tenants ran away fearing what might happen if it reached the seventh step.  
And it appears the only person who knows the answer to that is the dead tenant.

 

Image source.

Apr 15, 2013

SHITTY FLICKS: SHARK ZONE

Shitty Flicks is an ongoing column that celebrates the most hilariously incompetent, amusingly pedestrian, and mind-bogglingly stupid movies ever made by people with a bit of money, some prior porn-directing experience, and no clue whatsoever. It is here you will find unrestrained joy in movies meant to terrify and thrill, but instead poke at your funny bone with their weird, mutant camp-girl penis.

WARNING: I tend to give away major plot points and twist endings in my reviews because, whatever. Shut up.


Shark Zone (originally given the much better title of Jurassic Shark), is a smörgåsbord of what we love about shark movies: attractive and untalented lead actors/actresses, recycled footage that looks a little narrow because the logo for the Discovery Channel had to be cropped out, and of course, little-to-no realistic violence.

Oh, and roaring sharks. Yes, the sharks here roar and roar aplenty. As I write this, I can picture the sound designer on this film staring at dailies of swimming sharks and asking himself, "After I'm finished this bag of candy worms, what can I do to make this shark scarier than the one from Jaws?"

But, I digress.

Let's get on with Shark Zone: A Return to Form for Dean Cochran (Motorcycle Villain from Batman & Robin).

"Jimbo, watch this! Grab that little doll. I'll put that
 in my mouth."

Our movie begins in the past with a pirate ship and men wearing Halloween costumes (of pirates). In a sequence that left even The Goonies laughing hysterically, badly created lightning strikes and the waves force the ship down into Davy Jones' locker. All the swashbucklers drown and their precious precious chest of diamonds sinks to the bottom of the sea.

God rest ye, merry gentleman.

CUT TO closer to the present, but still in the past, where our handsome hero, Dean Cochran, is introduced. I forget his name. Maybe it was Jimbo. Anyway, we find Jimbo to be charter-boating on the ocean with two couples and his father, Jimbo Sr.

What a party.

They're all there to search for the lost diamonds lost by pirates in the movie’s prologue.

This is funny, because the only ones who knew the diamonds were on that ship were the pirates. (The ones that died.)

But no matter. Delightful banter ensues between our divers, and boobs are flaunted. When it's time for Head Boat Guy to explain the dos and don'ts of scuba-diving, he tells one of the members that his shiny chain will attract sharks.

Shiny Necklace Guy almost makes the choice to live, but then gives a Curly wave and does not remove his necklace.
"I'd remove that necklace if I were you. If you don't, sharks might rip your fucking arms off."
"I'm good."
Up next, a completely unexpected and crazy-ass thing happens.

They all dive and they're all killed. Even Jimbo's father, whose last words were "Swim, Jimbo! Swim!"

Finally, we cut to the present: 10 years after this attack. Our hero hasn't aged whatsoever, but now he's married to a hot girl and has a disgusting kid.

Jimbo's loss of father and attack of sharks has left him permanently embittered by the water, and his bitterness has begun to rub off on his ugly son, who doesn't eat fish because he's terrified of the ocean.

Despite Jimbo's hate/fear of the ocean, he is apparently a lifeguard or coastguard or color guard or something having to do directly with the water. Sometimes, people are attacked by sharks. And when they are, the mayor (for some reason, the same actor who plays the father) refuses to close the beaches.

That subplot never gets old.

Jimbo attempts to kill the sharks. How? Not sure, since you never actually see how.

Come to think of it, he really never verbally discusses his plan, nor does the movie ever show you how he would plan to carry out the sharks' demise.

All you see is what you'd expect: a boat and some shark cages. But oh man, when his friends are sitting in the cages under water, and the sharks start bumping the cages a little bit, but in no way endangering their lives, Jimbo yells for them to "Swim to the boat!" They do, and of course, since they are idiotically vulnerable in the open ocean, they're all eaten. And when they are, Jimbo literally gives one disappointed pound on the rail of his boat, as if to say, "You've won this round, Zone of Sharks!"

Fact: Vending machines kill more people per year
than sharks kill Captain America.

Somehow, the Russian mob shows up and demands that Jimbo dive and help them find the missing diamonds lost in the beginning of the movie. Lead Villain Guy, Mr. Bulkhead, makes him dive by taking his ugly son hostage, threatening the "sleep with the fishes" routine.

Jimbo takes control of the situation by punching and kicking men and throwing them overboard, where, of course, the sharks eat them.

So how does this glorious movie end?

The sharks eat everyone, are not defeated, and nary a clue ever reveals any kind of hint as to why they are huge and all of a sudden attacking everything in sight.

Jimbo and his ugly son get away, because they're virgins, and virgins always live.

Apr 13, 2013

RUGRASCALS

Remember "Rugrats," that show on Nickelodeon? What you probably don't know is that the creator of the show, Gabor Csupo, originally planned a late night version of "Rugrats" called "Rugrascals," to be played at night, with more adult humor.

Because every major channel thought the pilot was too disturbing, they refused to air the show, and as a result no-one has really heard about it. However, one station in Wellington, New Zealand mistakenly played it in the morning, thinking it was a regular "Rugrats" episode.

The pilot and only episode of the show that was seen was called "Chuckie's Mom." The intro played like normal, but at the end when Tommy shoots the milk at the screen, the sound effect is much louder, and the milk simply stays there for about 10 seconds, then the name of the episode appears. The episode played out like normal, with the babies playing in the playpen. They are all talking about their moms when Chuckie has a flashback.

It had Chuckie in hospital standing next to his mother in bed, who was dying from an unknown illness. She was singing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine" to Chuckie in a very weak voice, as if she were about to die, but when she sang the second verse the song started playing in reverse. A shot of Chuckie appeared in front of a live action footage of a toad being dissected, said to represent death by fans. Chuckie turns around and screams, and when he looks back at his mother, her face has a live action man's mouth pasted on it saying, "Don't worry, Chuckie, it's time for me to move on," in a man's voice. A flurry of random live action clips were shown, said to represent death, like a cow walking into a box with "slaughterhouse" crudely drawn on the side, and actual footage of a man suffering AIDS being killed. You can hear Chuckie screaming the entire time. A shot of Chuckie's mom appears again, this time with a chickens beak crudely pasted onto her face, saying, "Don't you remember where it all started?"

The episode then cuts to live-action footage of childbirth mammograms. After about one minute of these mammograms, you hear Chuckie's mom say, "Arent you a lucky ducky, Chuckie?" A harlequin fetus appear. At this time, you see Chuckie come out of the flashback, having a seizure. Tommy, Phil, and Lil are crying, and an ambulance worker calms him down, saying, "Chuckie? Chuckie? Can you hear me?" in a stern voice. Eventually after coughing up blood and vomiting, Chuckie comes to his senses. We then see a point of view shot of Chuckie, seeing Tommy, Phil, Lil, and the ambulance worker as having live-action chicken beaks on their faces, clucking away. A photo of a kid that looks just like Chuckie screaming appears, and the camera zooms into it.

After this, the regular credits played, followed by 15 minutes of static as the station had nothing else to play. Surprisingly, although the episode was watched by many children, only one adult who was watching (me) has spoken about it until now. I was confused to find out that children suicide rates went through the roof in New Zealand that year.
 

Apr 12, 2013

DANCING PLAGUE OF 1518

In July of 1518, Frau Troffea of Strasbourg, France (then part of the Holy Roman Empire), began to dance frantically in the streets.  Within a month, 400 people began to do the same, eventually collapsing and dying of heart attack, exhaustion, and stroke. 
Doctors at the time were at a loss. Notes from the city council revealed that the cause of the dancing was unknown, only that the victims were not dancing willingly. 
Then, as suddenly as it began, in August, the Dancing Plague of 1518 was over, leaving almost 400 dead, a population baffled, and a mystery that has lasted half of a millennium. 
Some have blamed the dancing plague on mass hysteria, the result of eating contaminated bread, or even religious ecstasy. 
Although the plague never reappeared in France, a similar case of the frantic dancing cropped up in Madagascar in the 1840s.  In both cases, the cause was never found.

Apr 11, 2013

REVIEW: K-11


You know how everyone has that one friend who, no matter what kind of story you're telling, somehow has a story even more amusing or ironic? Well, god forbid you ever begin a story with "I had the WORST day recently...!" around K-11's Raymond Saxx, because he would respond, "Well, one morning I woke up from a really fucked-up drug and booze binge, found myself accused of murder, and discovered I was locked up in a special transgender wing of a prison ruled by a deviant security guard and a tranny named The Queen."

Yeah, he'll always win with that one.

Goran Visnjic ("E.R.") is the unfortunate and aforementioned Raymond Saxx being dragged through the dingy halls of an ominous looking prison. He has no idea what he's done to find himself in such a place, but there he is all the same. After being held in isolation along with a fellow inmate named Butterfly (Portia Doubleday, the upcoming Carrie remake), he is eventually added to the gay and transgender wing. You see, the malicious and perverted Sgt. Johnson (D.B. Sweeney, Fire in the Sky) finds Raymond rather attractive, and with him locked up in his domain, he can wait until just the right time to...you know...strike.

While locked up in K-11, we meet its inhabitants: Mousey aka The Queen (Kate del Castilo), the head honcho who makes the rules; her bitch Ben (Jason Mewes, Clerks), who runs a mini drug operation; and Detroit (Tommy 'Tiny' Lister, The Dark Knight), an irreformable child molester, among many many other flamboyant characters. The prisoners of K-11 are colorful, to say the least, and though there is some drama from time to time, mostly these cellmates seem to get a long. But the arrival of Raymond has shaken the wing's establishment, both in front of and behind the locked cell doors.


K-11
's own marketing describes it as The Shawshank Redemption meets John Waters. That's a fairly accurate representation, especially when taking the former into consideration, as we have seen this kind of story before: Before Shawshank there was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and before that, Cool Hand Luke. A new inmate shows up, unites other inmates thanks to his intelligence, non-conformity, and human spirit, and leaves everyone changed just from his existence. K-11 attempts the same thing; the problem is it's nowhere near the magnitude of those other films.

K-11 is, except for Visnjic's Raymond, extraordinarily well-acted. del Castillo as Mousey is scarily good. Apparently quite the heralded actress in her native Mexico, a quick glance at her filmography confirms I am not familiar with any of her past work. Because of this, having nothing previous to go on, I found her especially convincing. She seemed dangerous and intimidating, but also conflictingly beautiful. All except for the bulge beneath her tiny underwear. Alternately, Portia Doubleday's Butterfly seems simple-minded but good-hearted. Her and Raymond become fast friends, and he soon develops a paternal protection of her. But, like previously mentioned, Visnjic seems rather flat and unconvincing. When he's playing a muddled mess he does just fine, but otherwise it feels like anyone could have played the role. His character is also maddeningly inconsistent. He seems to alternate between being a drug-added sweating mess, desperate to get out of K-11 by any means necessary, to a smiling, just-fine inhabitant, taking delight in Butterfly's bubbly personality, or the prisoners' ...er...fashion show.


The most frustrating aspect to K-11 is that it's impulsively watchable. The interactions between all the characters are very good, and D.B. Sweeney is especially effective as the very slimy Sgt. Johnson. The interplay works; the everyday-life of such a place seems genuine and realistic, though at the same time surreal and foreign. The things that occur are oftentimes so crazy you almost want to believe they are real, because in all honesty, what the fuck do you or I know about the transgender prison populace? But the reason I chose the word "frustrating" is because when the movie's conclusion happens, and the film ends, your immediate question will be "so what?" If co-writer/director Jules Stewart wanted nothing more than to shed some light on such places in a docudrama fashion, then mission accomplished. But if there was supposed to be more to it - if Raymond Saxx was supposed to learn where his life went astray and become a better person for it - if his character was supposed to "grow" - it certainly wasn't earned. There was no epiphany. Whole scenes of inmate camaraderie or catharsis seem to be missing. And the film doesn't end so much as it stops happening, and it sadly makes the journey up to it a little irrelevant. 

The DVD comes with commentary by director Stewart and producer Tom Wright. It's an okay listen, but I'm surprised that Stewart didn't have more to say about her odd choice for a directorial debut. She points out a little trivia from time to time, like explaining that the color of jumpsuit K-11 inhabitants wear are purposely different from those of the general population, but we never get anything meaty or useful. The track starts off with energy, but soon devolves into "and this is what's happening now"-type observation which is audio commentary suicide.

K-11 was an interesting watch, and one I don't regret. I feel as if a curtain has been lifted on a world on which I never gave much thought - whether it exists or not - but it's a shame that this world wasn't utilized to its maximum potential. At the end of the day, K-11 feels like nothing more than a really compelling missed opportunity.

K-11 streets on DVD and Bluray on April 23. Pre-order the DVD here.

Apr 10, 2013

SS OURANG MEDAN

In February, 1948, distress calls were picked up by numerous ships near Indonesia, from the Dutch freighter SS Ourang Medan. The chilling message was, “All officers including captain are dead lying in chartroom and bridge. Possibly whole crew dead.” This message was followed by indecipherable Morse code then one final grisly message… “I die.” When the first rescue vessel arrived on the scene a few hours later, they tried to hail the Ourang Medan but there was no response. A boarding party was sent to the ship and what they found was a frightening sight that has made the Ourang Medan one of the strangest and scariest ghost ship stories of all time.

All the crew and officers of the Ourang Medan were dead, their eyes open, faces looking towards the sun, arms outstretched and a look of terror on their faces. Even the ship’s dog was dead, found snarling at some unseen enemy. When nearing the bodies in the boiler room, the rescue crew felt a chill, though the temperature was near 110°F. The decision was made to tow the ship back to port, but before they could get underway, smoke began rolling up from the hull. The rescue crew left the ship and barely had time to cut the tow lines before the Ourang Medan exploded and sank.

To this day, the exact fate of the Ourang Medan and her crew remains a mystery.


Image source.

Apr 9, 2013

SHADOW PEOPLE

Emerson County has had reports of strange shadowy creatures/people since 1957. In August of 1997, roughly 2 miles from where the first reports originated, a video camera was found and turned into local authorities. What they saw on the old tape was scary, mysterious, and remains unexplained to this day. Some people refer to this "shadowy creature" as a "Shadow Person."


 

Apr 8, 2013

THIS IS SOME SPOOKY SHIT WE GOT HERE


Do you own a video camera?

No. Fred hates them.

I like to remember things my own way.

What do you mean by that?

How I remembered them.
Not necessarily the way they happened. 

Apr 6, 2013

REAL VAMPIRES

In Rhode Island in the late 1700s lived a 19-year-old girl named Sarah Tillinghast. Sarah was a dreamy girl, spending her days wandering small graveyards where Revolutionary soldiers lay. She was known to bring a book of poetry to these places and seat herself on a grave slab and read for hours on end. One day as she returned home from one of her visits she professed herself ill and took to her bed. Soon after she had a horrible fever and within weeks she was dead. 
The Tillinghast family was still grieving some weeks later when Sarah’s brother, James, came down to breakfast looking pale, shivering and complaining of a weight on his chest. He claimed that Sarah had come to him and sat on his bed. Sarah and James’ parents thought it was nothing but his grief playing tricks with his mind. 
The next day James was even paler and could barely breathe. Soon after, James was also dead. 
But Sarah and James were just the beginning - shortly after their deaths two more Tillinghast children died, both saying beforehand that Sarah had visited them. These claims were quite frightening for the Tillinghast parents, for it meant that Sarah was returning from the dead to draw the life from remaining family members. The rumors spread through the town, all saying one word - Vampire! 
Not before too long there were more deaths, and all of the victims claimed that it was Sarah that they saw right before the sickness took hold.  Then finally Honour Tillinghast, the mother of all the dead children, too became sick. Honour lay in her death bed swearing that her lost children were calling out to her. 
This was when Snuffy Tillinghast, the father, finally took a stand. With the help of his farmhand, Caleb, he went out early morning to the cemetery where Sarah was buried. He took with him a long hunting knife and a container of lamp oil. 
The two men reached Sarah’s grave and together dug up her casket and opened its creaking lid. Even though she had been put to rest 18 months ago Sarah looked as if she were asleep, there was no decomposition. Her eyes were open, according to one account, fixed in a stare, and fresh blood was found in her heart and veins.  After seeing his daughter’s face flushed as if with blood he took his knife and cut out her bleeding heart. It is said her body gushed with blood. Snuffy Tillinghast then set his daughter’s heart on fire and burned it to ashes.
After the heart was burned the deathly ill Honour Tillinghast recovered fully and there were no more strange deaths or Sarah sightings in the Rhode Island town again.

Apr 5, 2013

REVIEW: THE PROSPECTOR'S CURSE

 

As I watched filmmaker Josh Heisie's short film The Prospector's Curse, I was struck by just how much the tone and over-the-top nature of the story's events felt as if they had been plucked from the pages of the old EC comic line, or from the Creepshow film series.

After watching the film and checking out the press kit sent by the filmmaker, I saw this:
The Prospector’s Curse will be pitched as the first “chapter” of an anthology horror feature (IE, “Tales From the Crypt” and Creepshow). Each chapter will pay homage to a different genre of B-Movie, including this spaghetti western inspired ghost story, a film-noir thriller, a 1950s style creature feature, and a psychedelic slasher flick.
Glad to see we're on the same page. And I'll even do the filmmaker one better. The Prospector's Curse feels like a lost film from the efforts of Sam Raimi and Co., perhaps made and forgotten somewhere during their other little seen opus Within the Woods. Your plot is a rather simple one: Two fugitive men on the run during the height of the U.S. gold rush come across a dying prospector who begs them to give his gold to his sister, and to give him a "Christian burial." The two men agree, but do neither, intent on finding his stake and picking up where the old prospector left off. Well, in line with the old morality tales that "Tales from the Crypt" made famous, the two men will end up regretting their decisions.


The Prospector's Curse is wonderfully quirky and outrageous, but would benefit more from being surrounded by other short films of its type. As a one-off, I could see some viewers being standoffish with it if they're not "in" on the joke. Some people like their horror straight-laced and serious; some like it goofy. The Prospector's Curse is definitely goofy. One can come away with no other opinion following a scene in which a character thinks he is passionately kissing his long-lost love before seeing that it's actually the dead and bloody prospector...and spitting beard out of his mouth. I hope this anthology idea works out; from someone who misses the format, it would be something to look forward to.

Check out the film's official Facebook



Apr 3, 2013

REVIEW: HAYRIDE


Hayride
opens with a scene in which our main character discusses with his girlfriend the history of his uncle's Halloween hayride attraction. After running through the list of oddball horror characters his uncle has created over the years to fill out his hayride, he adds: "You have to keep it simple. Simpler is scarier. People don't want a compelling story. They want to be scared."

"Sounds like lazy writing to me," his girlfriend says. Mm, boy howdy, don't it, just?

Steven Summers (Jeremy Ivy) has come back home with his girlfriend, Amanda (Sherri Eakin), to see his family for the holiday. That holiday would be Halloween, which while I can fully get behind the idea of supporting, seems weird he would make what seems to be a long trip for such an occasion. But it's because his family takes Halloween very seriously, which includes his Uncle (Captain) Morgan (Kindergarten Cop's Richard Tyson!). Oh, also - a killer is on the loose, bludgeoning people awkwardly with an axe. This is important to note, since, ya know...we need conflict.


Written and directed by T.R. Parsons, who must be an Alabama native based on his ability to capably capture its beauty, Hayride is yet another Halloween-set slasher film about a killer picking off one misguided young adult at a time. How to properly approach the final output depends on your level of prejudice against low budget film-making. I tend to teeter back and forth, as it's unfair to let a low budget affect one's opinion, as what matters was the attempt at transcending that kind of limitation. But if said film simply isn't trying anything new, then it's fair game. Hayride has a lot of neat new features, but once you strip them all away, we're still dealing with the basic model. 

Surprisingly, the film fairly shares time with the kids and the hayride subplot as it does with the killer. But when it wants to be horrific and bloody, it is. The problem is, after a point, it really does devolve into the usual slasher fare that we have seen time and time again. It tries to jazz up the proceedings by including a subplot about the law proactively attempting to hunt the killer down, instead of the usual "you're crazy, so-and-so's been dead for years!" reaction we so often get, but we're still left with the same old thing - our lead attempting to survive against the villain while simultaneously overcoming his own ingrained fears.


The film makes a concerted effort to establish some character development for our lead characters, attempting to flesh them out beyond their typical Abercrombie archetypes. There's a particularly sappy but pleasant scene between uncle and nephew about the latter's possible future - and whether what he considers to be more of a sure thing: a career, or his future with Amanda. None of this is expected to be included in this sub-genre, so it was a welcome surprise.

From a directing standpoint, though I'm not too big a fan of the hand-held movement taking over at every budget level, I rather like the flashback sequences used to help fill in the gaps about the killer's origins. Where most films would simply shoot in black and white, these scenes have been altered in post to give it a nice look - almost that of photographs bubbling and melting over an open campfire. And Hayride, its tongue firmly planted in cheek, has no shortage of homage. The detective hunting the killer is named Loomis; the camera settles in for a close-up of a girl's ass; a scary campfire about the killer's origins ends with a cheap scare a la Friday 2.

The sequences involving the hayride and walk-throughs are especially fun. We've all been to one, and whether it was shitty or fantastic, we remember the experiences, so the inclusion of these sequences work, even if by affiliation.

As usual in films of this manner, the younger portion of the cast's acting isn't tremendous. It's not terrible to the point of distraction, but much of it comes across as clumsy and awkward. Richard Tyson, however, seems to be teetering back and forth between sleepy Nic Cage and over the top lovable Billy Ray Cyrus. Either way, it makes me realized something: I've missed Richard Tyson!

There is bad out there, ladies and gents, and lord knows I have seen it. Seeing what I have seen, I can't in good conscience call Hayride a bad film, or even a missed opportunity - completely overwrought final minutes notwithstanding. It's perfectly and reasonably entertaining, and for a multitude of reasons. If you want an engaging story, it's here. If you want a body count, you've got one. But if you're looking for originality, that's one I can't say you'll find in this old Hayride.

Apr 2, 2013

CLOWNING AROUND


Daniel Licht's most prestigious gig might be his current one - scoring TV's "Dexter." But he took some time out to provide some eerie melodies for this entry in the Silent Hill video game franchise.

This one, in particular, is chilling.

Apr 1, 2013

A "LORD OF TEARS" UPDATE


The filmmakers behind the upcoming Lord of Tears, which has been accepted into the San Diego Comic Fest and will screen in October, are having a little fun. Writer/director Lawrie Brewster sent the below viral video my way, which features the elusive Owl Man giving some teenagers around the globe the mighty creeps via online video chat.



But seriously folks...

In Brewster's own words:
Lord of Tears is a feature-length supernatural chiller set in the remote highlands of Scotland. The idea for this film came about from my deep interest in the dark mythologies of ancient civilisations, old gods and legendary monsters - not to mention my obsession with terrifying ghost stories.

As a director, I'm passionate about telling uncanny tales that bring new nightmares to audiences. I want to create alternate realities filled with mystery, terror and suspense - fusing the ancient and modern, preying on our most instinctual fears with threats and twists we cannot foresee.

When researching the Pagan folklore of the Highlands I discovered accounts of a terrifying stalker never before seen on film. It reminded me of the chilling Slenderman and the old ones oft referred to in the short stories of H.P. Lovecraft.

Set against the bleak backdrop of a Scottish winter, Lord of Tears is a classic gothic-style ghost story with an insidious Pagan twist. Our film is inspired by classic horror movies like The Shining, The Wicker Man, and traditional horrors like The Haunting and The Innocents including the sinister influences of the J-Horror subgenre.

Lord of Tears tells the story of James Findlay, a school teacher tortured by childhood memories of a strange and unsettling entity - a figure dressed like a Victorian gentleman but with the head of an Owl, and elongated limbs with sharp claws. It took the boy years to recover from his vision, years of forgetting before he could resume a normal life into adulthood. He might never have remembered had it not been for the death of his mother... the nightmares... the return of that familiar, watching presence.

As James faces a descent into madness, his only hope to fight his tormentor, to banish the evil that haunts him, is to return to his childhood home. He travels to the lonely mansion in the Scottish Highlands, a place notorious for its tragic and disturbing history. There, he must uncover, once and for all, the chilling truth behind the immortal stalker.
The film's Kickstarter campaign has met their first goal, and their second has been set: the crew needs to raise £10k ($15k); donations would be used to:
polish the film further, to complete our soundtrack product, to create marketing materials and reward products, to develop an exhibition campaign to get our film publicity, press screenings and to meet the costs of festival submission.
All who donate would be eligible to receive an incentive or reward:
For those of you who choose our extra special film/soundtrack combo, you will be the first audience to experience the film and its score! Supporting us on Kickstarter is currently the ONLY way to see the film.
Perhaps the most appealing package for those watching their wallets (as we all are these days) would be the DVD pre-order, which would be shipped to donaters in July.

Really I'm just regurgitating what is on the film's Kickstarter page, so head on over for the full details. 

I really hope the crew meets their goal. Lord of Tears definitely looks interesting and unusual, and that's something the genre needs right now. 

Mar 31, 2013

HIS RESURRECTION COMETH

"Mom," said the little girl, rubbing her eyes and standing in the doorway to her mother's room. "Mom, the Easter Bunny is eating my candy." 
"Nonsense, baby," the woman replied. "The Easter Bunny gives out candy, he doesn't eat it..."  
The woman lightly shook her covers and continued to speak, halfway into her pillow and halfway to her daughter. "Go back to sleep, baby..." 
"But, mom," the girl said. "The Easter Bunny is eating candy!" She now spoke in a more serious tone, almost as if she were going to cry. 
Her mother sat up and opened her arms. "Baby, I just told you. The Easter Bunny doesn't eat candy, he hands it out to little children. Besides, it's not even Easter yet. Go back to sleep," she said in her kindest voice. 
"Okay, mom," the child sighed as she turned to walk out the room. 
The woman smiled and thought, 'Crazy kid with her lively imagination,' and went back to sleep on a whim. 
Out in the hallway, the little girl stood for a while staring at the Easter Bunny eating her candy. She then sighed. "Mommy said I should go back to bed." 
The Easter Bunny smiled. "Good idea, child. Turn around and don't look back."  
He flicked a shiny metal pendant at the child. She picked it up and cried as she saw what it was: it was a dog tag, and it read 'Candy.'


Mar 30, 2013

SHITTY FLICKS: ICE CREAM MAN

Shitty Flicks is an ongoing column that celebrates the most hilariously incompetent, amusingly pedestrian, and mind-bogglingly stupid movies ever made by people with a bit of money, some prior porn-directing experience, and no clue whatsoever. It is here you will find unrestrained joy in movies meant to terrify and thrill, but instead poke at your funny bone with their weird, mutant camp-girl penis.

WARNING: I tend to give away major plot points and twist endings in my reviews because, whatever. Shut up.


If you were to me ask me if there was one filmmaker out there who has consistently avoided falling into the Hollywood system and continued to create films his own way, I could think of a few possible names: John Carpenter, George A. Romero, even David Cronenberg.

Now, if you had asked for a filmmaker who had worked primarily in tits-and-ass cinema, and who had directed one single non-porn film that managed to smell worse than green shit, well, I would tell you that filmmaker’s name: Paul Norman. Yes, Paul Norman, the director of such films as Sperm Bitches, Cry Babies: Anal Scream, Bitches in Heat: Pt. 1-Locked in the Basement, The Boneheads, and roughly 100 other movies that have those kinds of icky titles.

The point is, Paul Norman, director of all those wonderful flicks of debauchery, is a master of his craft. He knows how to make a great dick film. He knows how to light deep penetration and parallel the conflicts of humanity with some serious hard anal love. He knows how to fill a scene with tension and terror just like he knows how to fill a mouth with...you know. He knows how to zoom to the inside of a woman's love hole as it's invaded by the coach, just like we wish he would zoom out from Clint Howard's face, which looks like it's been hugged by a cactus monster.

Yes, there is a movie beyond the man’s typical resume staggery; it’s a movie made from the heart, a story compelled to be told, driven by true passion for the cinema. Ice Cream Man is to Paul Norman as Plan 9 from Outer Space is to Ed Wood. Ice Cream Man was Paul Norman’s chance to mark his presence in Hollywood, to storm the red-carpet premier of his first mainstream film and say, “Shall no one celebrate my career...shall no one ever give thought to me after I pass on, let it be known that I was here…that I held my head up high…and that I crafted a movie that captured the imagination!”

Paul Norman was delirious. And oblivious. His choice to temporarily halt his porn career to make a lousy, stupid horror movie starring Richie Cunningham's brother will mystify me long after I am boringly staring at the lid of my coffin.

Paul Norman, up to the year 2001, had directed 120 films. 119 of those were pornography. One was Ice Cream Man.

"It's OK to cry when you're sad, Billy. I cry every night
before I go to sleep."

Ice Cream Man was released in the fall of 1995 and was greeted by many a head-scratching critics and probably the ignorant love of 12-year-old boys. And it’s a bad, bad film.

So why do I fucking like it so much?

Is it the masterful scenery-chewing performance, delivered by the scary looking Clint Howard?

Is it the dopey, twinkle-box music that distractingly sounds like a pornographic soundtrack better suited to play during scenes of awkward foreplay leading up to ass-slapping and dirty name calling?

Is it the “oh, I’m on camera?” acting techniques of Jan Michael Vincent?

Or is it all of the above?

Have you ever watched a movie that was bad and jokingly asked, “Jeez, did this guy used to direct PORN?” Well, you know what, fuck you, because Paul Norman seriously used to direct porn, and it’s so prevalent at several parts in the film that it’s distracting.

Ice Cream Man did for ice cream men what Jaws did for the ocean, what A Nightmare on Elm Street did for sleeping and what Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 did for garbage day. It gave pause to people considering on embarking on what used to be typical, every-day behavior; in this case, children buying ice cream from a leering man who looked anything like Clint Howard.

Ice Cream Man begins with flash back to a young Gregory Tudor, who sees the Ice Cream King get ICED (ROF) right in front of him by a passing mafia caravan spraying machine gun bullets. His mother rushes to his aid, but it’s too late, as Gregory Tudor dumbly asks, “Who is going to bring the ice cream now, mommy?” Gregory is hospitalized for the rest of his young life, and many years later, he is released after being treated by a pair of totally insane staff members. He picks up where The Ice Cream King left off.

A group of neighborhood children, who call themselves The Rocketeers for no good reason, begin to grow wise of the ice cream man’s impending insanity after one of their friends, Small Paul, goes missing. Surely this is the work of the ice cream man. Or wait, could it be the town pervert who creepily spins the children on the park tilty-whirl as he reiterates the story of the Pied Piper?

It’s OK to think that for a few minutes before the ice cream man kills him.

You know you're in the presence of a cinematic master when he introduces a red herring and then immediately kills him off.

It wasn't the giant man-head-cone that Darla objected to,
but Clint Howard's face.

The Rocketeers assemble and begin their conspiring.

Member # 1: Johnny, (who will grow up to be the guy that shouts MILF at the portrait of Stiffler’s Mom in American Pie) pisses off the ice cream man with his constant indecisiveness involving the texture of his cone.

Member # 2: Heather, a girl whose mother is possessed by a demon, plays the potential cooties interest.

Member # 3: Tuna, the “fat” kid (who is fat merely because of a fat pad placed in his shirts—notice the thin legs).

Tuna eventually ends up as the ice cream man’s target after the fat little miscreant catches him inexplicably dancing in the middle of the night for no explained reason. Once realizing he has been caught during his dance, Tudor shouts after the fleeing child, “You little turds are gonna have to realize you can't run from the ice cream man! I know where you live! If you tell anyone, I’ll get your mom and dad!”

Subtle, ice cream man. So subtle.

As the movie progresses, ice cream man kills more and more people, like Tuna’s cheating father and the town whore with whom he adulterates.

Two cops, Detectives Maldwyn and Gifford (played by the son of Lee Majors and seasoned wife-beater Jan Michael Vincent, respectively) show up to begin their investigation. Maldwyn then orders ice cream and ignorantly tongues a sliced eyeball around in his mouth as Gifford looks like he couldn’t give any less of a shit to be in this movie. There's "phoning it in," and then there's Jan Michael Vincent.

"Miami Vice" at the hands of Robert Altman.

The movie is peppered with odd behavior from our beloved Ice Cream Prince (his self-anointed title), weird flashbacks from the wacko jacko things that went on during his hospital stay, and a million shots of shoes, as Converse was a heavy sponsor of the film.

Maldwyn and Gifford eventually subpoena Ice Cream Prince with a search warrant and then rape the shit out of his ice cream headquarters. Pictures frames, little jars of sprinkles and other very small places where missing children couldn't possibly be hidden are smashed haphazardly on the floor, as Ice Cream Prince helplessly looks on.

Not finding anything, the two detectives leave, with Gifford spotting a bed of fake plastic daisies, the petals of which spin in the wind.

"Those are beautiful daisies - how do you get them to bloom like that?" (He's 100% serious.)

"I use dead policeman," says Ice Cream Prince, for reasons unknown. Gifford walks away, accepting his answer without the slightest hint of worry.

Later, as the two detectives investigate Gregory’s history at the mental hospital (and see that it’s a hellhole where the insane literally have control of the asylum), you’ll get to witness the fine acting chops of Jan Michael Vincent.

In a scene in which I am 100% confident that he was just being an asshole on the set that day and didn’t want to cooperate, we see him and his fellow detective walk through the hallway of the hospital as a large horde of the insane follow them - screaming, pawing at them, and threatening them with makeshift weapons.

As Lee Majors II attempts to act and look threatened as he fends off attacks, Jan Michael Vincent simply walks, completely and totally calm, if not a bit bored. He literally looks like he couldn’t care less about being there.

It would be rather insulting if it weren’t so fucking hilarious.

When Clint Howard handed over his 'head-shot',
the producers laughed...out of pity.

Nearing the end of the film, we unearth a shocking discovery: Small Paul, whom we thought was dead, was just cooling his jets at the Ice Cream Prince's hangout.

So, wait, why didn't the detective find him when they trashed the place?

Moving on!

Small Paul realizes that the Ice Cream Prince is an asshole and pushes him into the giant ice cream mixer and kills him.

The end.

There. I just spent more time and effort on Ice Cream Man than its own director.

Mar 28, 2013

MORE CONJURING


I am conflicted about the release date for this film. Part of me wants it to come out in the fall instead, as horror always plays better then. But then the other part of me realizes I'd have to wait an additional three months for that to happen.

I think the first part of me needs to STFU.

Mar 27, 2013

JOAN OF ANTWERP

A priest has been called to a farm near the town of Antwerp in Victoria, where he has been told an exorcism has entered a difficult phase. Inside the house, he finds the body of Joan Vollmer decomposing in the bedroom, her fluids leaking into the bedclothes and onto the floor, while the three "exorcists" – including the dead woman's husband – are in the kitchen, in an extreme state of denial, fixing themselves some sandwiches. 
The priest politely declines their invitation that he join them for lunch.

Mar 26, 2013

UNSUNG HORRORS: BABY BLUES

Every once in a while, a genuinely great horror movie—one that would rightfully be considered a classic, had it gotten more exposure and love at the box office—makes an appearance. It comes, no one notices, and it goes. But movies like this are important. They need to be treasured and remembered. If intelligent, original horror is supported, then that's what we'll begin to receive, in droves. We need to make these movies a part of the legendary genre we hold so dear. Because these are the unsung horrors. These are the movies that should have been successful, but were instead ignored. They should be rightfully praised for the freshness and intelligence and craft that they have contributed to our genre. 

So, better late than never, we’re going to celebrate them now… one at a time.

Dirs. Lars Jacobson & Amardeep Kaleka
2008
Allumination Filmworks
United States

Sometimes all you need to sum up a film is one simple sentence. But just because that sentence is simple, it doesn't mean the film is – either technically, or thematically. Films with the easiest synopses can often be the most dangerous. To sum up Baby Blues, using my own words: A young mother suffers a nervous breakdown and begins to systematically murder her young children, one by one. Such a simple sentence should hopefully be a sucker punch to the gut. It should hopefully cause a trifle bit of unease in even the most jaded horror fan. I knew very little about Baby Blues when I sat down with it. I knew it was about a mother chasing after her young child in an attempt to kill him, and I knew it was given favorable reviews by some horror pubs when it hit disc way back when. I sat down and watched, expecting a decent but forgettable romp. But what I saw knocked me back.

Mom (the eerily good Colleen Porch) is clearly not well. Her four children, including newborn Nathan, seem to be running her ragged. Cooking and cleaning and keeping an eye out – all of her duties as a mother are really taking their toll. Not helping matters is that Dad (Joel Bryant) is away from home almost constantly, due to his job as a truck driver. Anyone could take one look at Mom’s tired eyes beaming their thousand-yard stare and see that she needs help. Even when she begins to break down and cry when it comes time for Dad to hit the road again, he simply insists that everything is going to be all right. But it’s not. And as soon as he hits the road, things get real bad real quick. Their son, Jimmy (Ridge Canipe, who has played both young versions of Dean Winchester in “Supernatural” and Johnny Cash in Walk the Line), may be the oldest of the four children, but he’s no more than twelve years old. While he may still be wet behind the ears, he knows something is very wrong with Mom…but not until it’s too late.


Honestly, I was not prepared for Baby Blues. As a horror film fan, I like to think that I’ve seen it all, but that’s not even remotely true, and I’m glad it’s not, for two reasons: One, that would be awfully boring going forward, wouldn’t it? And two, there is stuff out there I haven’t seen and never want to see, because at one point filmmakers begin to straddle that line between entertainment and triathlons involving grimy basements and sexual perversity – shock for shock’s sake, etc. Filmmakers like Tom Six (Human Centipede), Srdjan Spasojevic (A Serbian Film) and even the lame Nick Palumbo (Nutbag) have absolutely nothing of merit to say with their films. I’m sure at the end of the day they can sit down and concoct some bullshit reasoning for sewing one girl’s lips to another’s asshole, or for including actual 9/11 footage in their film’s opener to attempt some tenuous connection between real world terror and their lamebrain lead character. But these guys just want to push the boundaries for no other reason than to elbow you in the side later on and say, “See what I did there?” That kind of cinema isn’t my cup of tea and it never will be. But that doesn’t mean you still can’t shock your horror-loving audience – it just has to come from a pure place. It has to shock you with its themes as well as its on-screen violence.

For instance, in the Troma film Beware: Children at Play, scores of kids are shot down and massacred in the finale—and, in addition to pretty much the rest of the film, is the reason it fails as any kind of experience rather than one of utter superficiality. The film wants to shock you in only vapid ways, but all it does is end up looking completely pedestrian and immature of the filmmakers to even try. Killing one hundred kids with no emotional build-up will never be as shocking as killing just one, so long as the appropriate development has taken place, and the conflict realistically and unpretentiously built.

I’m not giving anything away when I say that this young mother, under a tremendous amount of stress as well as suffering from post-partum depression, does indeed kill most of her children. That much is stated right in the film’s synopsis. But even though it’s right there in black and white text, you never quite actually believe it. Because you convince yourself there’s no way a filmmaker would ever resort to such techniques to tell a story. Reading such a synopsis might allow you to dismiss the words you are reading and concoct your own explanation: Perhaps the children are already dead once the film begins, either recently or in the years prior. Or maybe there’s some third-act twist revealing that the mother is just a psycho and it was all in her head.

Even as the children die, one by one, you think, “This isn’t happening. Or if it is, they only want to shock you with one child death. The other children will be saved.”

But you soon realize this is not the case.

And that’s why Baby Blues works as well as it does. At no point does it ever feel exploitative. At no point does it seem like the filmmakers have absolutely nothing to say about the on-screen events rather than, “This is fucked up, ain’t it?” All of the violence committed against the children is committed off-screen, but you will feel every hit and stab, that much I will guarantee.

The horror genre is immensely diverse, just like any other genre. But horror tests you in many different ways. I consider this film, as well as, say, The Thing, Phantasm, and Insidious to be great—but all in different ways. The Thing wants you to question the evil inside yourself, Phantasm wants to mess with your mind, and Insidious just wants to have fucking fun. Baby Blues wants to test you, too—but not in any of those ways.  It wants you to face one simple fact: what you’re seeing happens. Often. Because people do not receive the kind of mental attention they need—either by their loved ones, by their physicians, or by society. And that has never been more relevant than right now, what with the current gun control debate taking place on the public stage. Some argue to ban automatic assault weapons while others state the problem isn’t the guns, but the lack of attention to those with mental and emotional problems. If our government’s recent output is any indication, it’s yet one more debate that will become so watered down by both sides that inaction surely would have been the easiest conclusion in the long run.

Co-directors Lars Jacobson (also the writer) and Amardeep Kaleka have an awful lot to say: about religion, about family values, and about mental illness. And it’s all included in such subtlety that viewers actually force themselves to realize those themes at film’s end. Because to have experienced what you’ve just experienced cannot go unanalyzed. The idea that Baby Blues was made for the sole purpose of shocking you just isn’t enough. You will demand to know why you were shown what you were just shown, and you will insist on knowing why such a film exists.

Speaking of subtlety, there’s also a moment in the film’s first act where Mom finds a rather racy matchbook in Dad’s pants – one that suggests perhaps Dad has certain hot spots he likes to hit while out on the open road for weeks at a time. And we never find out for sure if Dad likes to visit those kinds of places…perhaps drink a little too much…perhaps get a little too handsy with the dancers. Dad is certainly painted as a good guy – a good provider to his family. But even the best men are flawed, and maybe Dad is visiting these joints while no one is looking…or maybe, instead, he’s curiously fishing them out of a fishbowl at the truckers’ warehouse, where he often picks up or drops off another load, and living vicariously through the fantasies swimming around inside his head.

Perhaps the most famous horror film to feature a parent trying to dispatch their child is The Shining, and Baby Blues is quick to throw out a nod here and there to its cinematic ancestor. Either by lovingly recreating iconic shots, or including in its story the use of a CB radio that Jimmy uses to reach the outside world while fleeing from his murderous mother, Baby Blues is sure to pay its fair share of homage to one of the big daddy films of the genre. Obviously Jack Nicholson’s Jack Torrance was thirty kinds of insane, but Colleen Porch’s performance is nearly as riveting, just for different reasons. Torrance is a man possessed by ghosts of the past, but Porch is a woman taken hostage by her own demons spurred by her unsteady mental state. And though she may utter lines of dialogue from time to time that might be wrongly considered puns, they’re not meant to be quirky or ironic. When she threatens her children with a cleaver and tells them it’s past their bedtime, it’s not the same as Chucky killing someone with a ruler and saying “This rules!” (or something to that effect) – because Mom is delivering her lines through tears. Somewhere inside her she knows she is sick. She isn’t taking sinister joy in her carnage with a clownish grin on her face. She knows she didn’t want to do what she did and is still trying to do, but she is taken hold by her growing insanity and there’s no way she can stop herself.

Naturally I won’t get into the film’s ending in detail, but I will say this: Baby Blues’ conclusion looks you right in the face – you, the offender, in a sea of a million offenders – and says you will never learn your fucking lesson.

Mar 24, 2013

LEVITY...?

Doctors at a Canadian hospital found a shocking image staring right back at them as they were scanning the testicles of a 45-year-old paraplegic man. The image of one of the testicles looks like a man's face grimaced in agony.

"It was very ghoulish, like a man screaming in pain," Dr. Naji Touma of Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario told The Toronto Star. "His mouth was open and it looked like one eye was gouged out."

"The residents and staff alike were amazed to see the outline of a man's face staring up out of the image, his mouth agape as if the face seen on the ultrasound scan itself was also experiencing severe [pain and swelling]," read the entry.


Source.

Mar 23, 2013

THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

One school day, a boy named Tom was sitting in class and doing math. It was six more minutes until school let out. As he was doing his homework, something caught his eye. His desk was next to the window, and he turned and looked to the grass outside. It looked like a picture.
When school was over, he ran to the spot where he saw it. He ran fast so that no one else could grab it. He picked it up and smiled. It had a picture of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had a dress with tights on and red shoes, and her hand was formed into a peace sign.

She was so beautiful he wanted to meet her, so he ran all over the school and asked everyone if they knew her or have ever seen her before. But everyone he asked said "No." He was devastated.

When he was home, he asked his older sister if she knew the girl, but unfortunately she also said "No."
It was very late, so Tom walked up the stairs, placed the picture on his bedside table and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night Tom was awakened by a tap on his window. It was like a nail tapping. He got scared. After the tapping he heard a giggle. He saw a shadow near his window, so he got out of his bed, walked toward his window, opened it up, and followed the giggling. By the time he reached it, it was gone.

The next day he asked his neighbors if they knew her. Everybody said, "Sorry, no."
When his mother came home he even asked her if she knew her. She said "No."
He went to his room, placed the picture on his desk and fell asleep.

Once again he was awakened by a tapping. He took the picture and followed the giggling. He walked across the road when he was suddenly hit by a car. He died instantly, picture in hand.

The driver got out of the car and tried to help him, but it was too late. He saw the picture and picked it up.

He saw a beautiful girl holding up three fingers.