LEVITY

UNMASKED: KANE HODDER

Kane Hodder was the first actor whose career you could say I "followed," this being when I was very young and after I had gotten into the Friday the 13th series. Hodder, who played Jason in Parts 7-X, immediately became my favorite incarnation of the character. For whatever reason, his name became embedded in my brain. I began to keep an eye out for him like someone else would keep an eye out for movies starring George Clooney or Al Pacino. This continued for years, recognizing him in his brief roles in Daredevil and Monster and becoming almost giddy, wanting to poke someone next to me and ask, "Do you know who that is??" Because of my young age, and because I had barely scratched the surface of everything the entertainment world had to offer, Kane Hodder at that time had become my favorite actor. And I don't intend on demeaning him by implying I just didn't know any better or have more knowledge of film. Rather, it's that I was young enough to avoid all the baggage that I would later affiliate with the Friday the 13th series (the critical thrashings; the cynicism of the producers who saw the films only as cash cows; the studio who was embarrassed of the series and its success; that "normal" people looked upon the series as a joke) and just enjoy the films on their own merits...and because whoever this guy was that was playing Jason Voorhees scared the shit out of me. That was enough to get me to pay attention to his career.

In less-informed communities, horror movie actors develop a reputation as being sick, depraved, or completely out of their minds, due in no small part to the roles they play or the films in which they take part. And the exact opposite of this has been stated so much that it's almost become a cliche – that the people who work in the horror genre are among some of the nicest and most down-to-earth people you could ever meet. They have problems, fears, and weaknesses just like everyone else. It could be easy (and maybe simple-minded) to think that the guy who has murdered legions of teenagers in his four performances as Jason Voorhees has no fear or weakness. How wrong you would be to think that.

In Unmasked: The True Story of the World's Most Prolific Cinematic Killer, Hodder lays it all out on the table. He gets into the deepest, most painful experiences of both his life and his career. And you get the mask, the machete, the whole damn thing. The book is very much conversational in tone, thus making it an easy read, but don't take that to mean there isn't an awful lot of content. Unmasked begins with his childhood, ends at Hatchet 2, and includes everything in between. He talks about the burn that ravaged much of his body. He talks about the disappointment of being denied his role in the long-gestating Freddy vs. Jason (which featured a very Frankenstein-like performance from new Jason Ken Kirzinger). He talks about the severe beating he suffered as a child at the hands of a bully, something that remains with him to this day, and how it shaped him into the person he is. He talks about his family, friends, career, Jason Voorhees, and Victor Crowley – he leaves no stone unturned.

It's easy to "get to know" a celebrity by seeing the projects in which they star, reading about them in interviews, and observing them in on-set situations on DVD supplements. And if you're really intrigued by any specific person, there are multitudes of ways to find out even more. Sitting down to read Unmasked, I was curious as to how my view of him would change, if it even would. I'm happy to say that while the book delivered largely what I suspected I already knew about Kane Hodder, the other layers to his personal life didn't so much change my view of him as they did enhance it.

Kane Hodder, the man who has strangled you (and me) at horror conventions, is a human being. "No shit," you say. But no, I mean it. He's a living, breathing, fucking human being. He has his likes and dislikes, his moments of darkness and light, and very real fears and life-changing traumas. This becomes painfully evident when he relives the day of his horrendous burn incident, which occurred early into his career as a stunt man. In Unmasked, he explains that he had lied for years about how that incident came about, blaming it on an on-set incident while shooting a television pilot he had completely made up. In Unmasked, he confesses to his years of lying about the incident and for the first time ever lays down the real story behind what happened. Out of respect, I won't reveal the "real" story here, but I do want to share with you one specific and powerful part from Kane's painful recollection of the incident (which makes up a large bulk of the book's second act):

Though it was less than a second, it was like a giant steaming hot, wet blanket was wrapping around my entire body, pinching and pulling at my skin. The haze from the heat blurred my eyes and forced me to shut them tightly and bring a hand over my face—instinct I guess. The same reason I didn’t do the one thing you are told to do when you are on fire. Stop, drop, and roll is a good theory, and great for kids to know. But I’m sorry; your first and only instinct when you are suddenly on fire around your head is to run. Of course it’s not the correct thing to do, but it’s a reflex. Not a decision. If your body is the only thing on fire, you can have the presence of mind to stop, drop, and roll. When your head and face are on fire, everything is different. You hear your face burning. You hear your hair singeing. You are breathing in the flames. There are no words to describe how terrifying it is.

Kane's play-by-play of his burn is deeply disturbing, unsettling, and graphic. Seeing people catch fire in movies, no matter how graphic it may seem, cannot hold a candle (that's not a pun, believe me) to reading about it in explicit detail. He pulls no punches when he relays the incident, as well as his nightmarish four-month stay in what must have been the most incompetent hospital since the days of Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, and Dr. Howard. The incident left Kane with some psychological issues, which he again reveals in Unmasked for the first time. All the credit in the world goes to him, as the details he shares about his personal life will definitely give readers pause. What he admits to in this section are things most people would rather bring to their grave than ever utter aloud.

But it's not all doom and gloom. Those reading Unmasked to find out about his Jason-oriented career will not be disappointed. Myself a Friday aficionado, I thought I'd learned everything there was to know from Peter Bracke's Crystal Lake Memories, the His Name is Jason documentary, the deluxe editions of the Friday the 13th DVDs, and Fangoria Magazine. Unmasked will provide you with even more information and anecdotes you have never heard, and pictures you have never seen.

He shares a lot of stories from his non-Friday career, from on-set mishaps to celebrities he enjoyed working with, to ones he did NOT enjoy working with. Additionally, he pulls no punches in presenting himself as an over-masculine "guy." He likes to drink, curse, fight, and piss in your dressing room. But none of this ever comes across as forced. If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting him in person, and feeling his strong hands gripping your throat, you know he's the real deal bad-ass he presents himself as in his book. Lastly, he's pretty damn funny.

One anecdote in particular made me laugh, which occurred a year or so after his burn incident:

...later that night, someone asked me about how they replaced my nipples after I got burned. I didn’t know what they were talking about so I asked them to repeat the question. They said that this guy, who will remain nameless, told them how they had to reconstruct my nipples with skin from my anus. I was shocked and pissed. Where did this guy get off making up these fucking stories about me? Especially crazy ones like that. Everyone at that party thought I had ass nipples!

The book also includes "intermissions," each which detail particular fights Kane found himself in throughout his life. Some he won, some he lost; some were amusing, some were most definitely not. It's an odd choice to include these stories in Unmasked, but I can only imagine it's because he's been asked about them repeatedly over the years.

The book is co-written by Michael Aloisi, who does an admirable job of putting down Kane's words into a chronological and coherent narrative. The year-long project was obviously one driven by passion, and that is reflected in the pages. Not one sentence of Unmasked is ever superfluous or boring. Any person – prior fan of Hodder or not – will find something to like, and most assuredly find Kane's battles especially inspiring.

Lastly, Unmasked has a marvelous forward by Adam Green, director of the retro-slasher Hatchet, in which Hodder plays the killer Victor Crowley. It's a great opening to an even greater book, and while the two men are technically colleagues, what comes across more is that they are friends – and that Green grew up idolizing Kane much in the same way we all did.  

I learned an awful lot about Kane Hodder from reading Unmasked. I've learned that he is passionate, talented, kind of a dick (which he freely admits), incredibly fearless in particular aspects, and as broken and damaged by life as many of us are. But once you read the last page, you'll also feel inspired to go out there and achieve what you always feared was unachievable. Because it's not.

...one day I heard that [Friday the 13th] Part 8 was going to go into production and that they were going to cast a new Jason. Pissed could not explain how angry I was. I had become Jason, he was a part of me, and I wanted to do it again. That night I went home and called Barbara Sachs who had been a producer on Part 7 and worked at Paramount. As calmly as I could, I straight out told her that I wanted to play Jason in Part 8...she responded with a surprised tone. "Really? I had no clue you would want to play him again..." We set up a meeting for me to come in and get the particulars. During that meeting, I was hired to play Jason once again...

There was a major lesson I learned from that phone call. If you want something in life, go after it, go get it, and don’t wait for it to come to you. If I hadn’t made that call, I would not have gotten to play Jason again, and my entire life would have been different. Ever since then, I made sure to not sit around and wait, hoping I would get called back—I went out and made my future.

REVIEW: FIREBALL

 

If this country weren’t so hung-up on a two-party political system, I would campaign as an independent to have Fireball elected president. And then I would find the hottest, hard-bodied intern for Fireball to bring to the Lincoln bedroom and lay upon her some serious presidential coitus. And then when Fireball’s bastard child loomed on the horizon, I would step up and touch that white-coiled wire thing in my ear and then say, “Our position remains firm that the real father of Bastard Child is Jurassic Park.”

Fireball deserves all of that special attention. What a fucking fun, fun movie.

But why the hell was its 2009 video release so quiet? Is it because the actors’ names are longer than Lawrence of Arabia? (Kumpanat Oungsoongnern plays Muk!)

Why aren’t there hordes of people singing its praises? Why did people shit their pants over The Raid (which was fun, but not nearly as fun as you’ve been told), yet not care about poor Fireball?

For the same reason "Jersey Shore" is a thing. For the same reason The Black Eyed Peas are a thing. For the same reason people thought Titanic was just a movie and not based on, you know, history.

Because people are stupid.

I’m stupid, too, don’t get me wrong—but not stupid enough to NOT know how fucking awesome Fireball is.

I’ll get to the plot in a minute, but the plot itself is so inconsequential that it shouldn’t matter; because while Fireball may be about revenge and redemption, what it’s really about is two bad-ass groups of men beating the ever-loving shit out of each other during chain link fence-surrounded basketball games. The name of the game is simple: Make a basket. Whoever scores the first and only basket wins the game. Oh, and survive the punching, kicking, fire, and chains.

That’s it.

That’s all I need.

That’s all you need.

Even Fireball for this film’s title is an absolute misnomer. It should be called Badassketball. In fact, that’s its name for the rest of this fellating review.

Badassketball is about Tai. After his release from jail, he comes back to town to see that his brother, Tan, is comatose in a bed (because of Badassketball). Tan’s lover, Pang, cries a lot, and explains that back during Tan’s conscious days, he would come home covered with bruises and explain it was from playing basketball. “I wasn’t that stupid!” she cried, proving that she was, in actuality, pretty stupid. Tai assumes Tan’s identity (since they’re twins) and he enters the game. And all kinds of macho fucking beatings take place.

Let’s meet the Badassketball team The Good Guys.

The team is “managed” by Den, a low-level crime figure with a heart of reasonable gold. He seems pretty emphatic on remaining involved with crime, but he also wants to be a good guy. It’s enough to make you root for him.

Iq is a young hipster. He plays Badassketball to pay the rent for himself and his family.

Muk is the sole black man in all of Thailand and his wife is preggers. He’s pissed off most of the time and REALLY does not like this next guy:

K has a shady past. Muk frequently accuses him of purposely throwing a past match for financial gain. K loves whores, but won’t kiss them.

Zing sells TVs during his off time, and during his on time, punches large burlap bags filled with grain, and men.

Now let’s meet The Bad Guys.

Tun is the main bad guy, and his screaming blonde hair is the only thing keeping him from essentially being Henry Bowers from Stephen King’s IT. He’s the one who put Tai in a coma, so obviously he becomes Public Enemy # 1.

Yong is an old man mob boss. He’s been whoring Pang out to various people and attempting to fix games of Badassketball for his own personal gain.

The rest of the bad guys kinda blur together, but it doesn’t matter.

So many people are punched and kicked that even Bobby Brown became uncomfortable watching it (too soon?). Blood sprays in the air as men roll across the floor in total fucked pain, holding their stomachs and faces. Luckily these guys get right up at the end of matches as if a reset button had just been hit.

The film overloads on chaos cinema, thrashing the camera and zooming in and out like Michael Bay discovering his first boner. But it’s all in good fun. The violence looks painful, but also entertaining (like violence should be). There’s an especially useless scene where Den (the coach!) spies a far-off basketball court from a high rooftop. He tosses The Good Guys a basketball and tells them the first one to get the ball through the court’s hoop will win some cash money.

The Good Guys then literally beat the shit out of each other in an effort to be the one who sinks that money-awarding shot. They all grin and go about this like they are having a huge amount of fun, even as guys bicycle kick each other in the chest and jump out windows and across rooftops. They might as well literally scream, “We’re friends, but we’d kill each other for money!”

During a match, The Good Guys and The Bad Guys beat the shit out of each other. Things get hairy when lead pipes are slid through the fence. The Bad Guys grab them and advance on The Good Guys, grinning and touching the pipes against The Good Guys' spines. The Good Guys don't use the pipes, even though they could, because they’re the good guys, and homies don’t play that.

I guess they should have, because one lead pipe becomes a lead-pipe-with-pointy-end, and one of The Good Guys does not make it off the court. As much as my praising of the movie may sound sarcastic, it’s not; the death of this one Good Guy was pretty telegraphed, and when I saw it coming, I shouted, “Oh no!”

The Good Guys make it to the finals, and this game takes place at an old military base. This game (though illegal) is quite an event, bringing in a huge crowd of people as well as armed military guards to (I guess) keep things in order, even though murder is absolutely allowed on the court.

The game escalates fairly quickly; especially after The Bad Guys rip the basketball hoop off the backboard and throw it aside, as if to say, “Fuck you, The Good Guys. This game is about murder-blood, not basketball.” Well, (spoilers) Tai strangles Tun with the hoop, cracks his neck with it, and then throws his body aside like a piece of garbage. It gives me broners. The Good Guys are victorious, but at what cost?

Now, as for the (scant) bad things...

The music in this is pretty bad. It would even be bad for video game music. In fact, if this were video game music, someone playing that video game would be like "I thought video game music was supposed to be getting a lot better? This is terrible."

Lastly, the awesomeness of Badassketball is almost derailed by a post-credits sequence in which The Good Guys’ team is reformed, but one of its survivors says, “Forget this hoops stuff,” and insinuates that his life will now revolve around shooting guns instead of shooting basketballs. What a boring sounding sequel.

 

Internet doesn't have much to say about Badassketball, sadly. Its trailer is posted on some blogs for kitschy purposes, but most people don’t seem to care. It currently sits on IMDB with a lame 4.7 rating, which I find a little puzzling, as I can only assume the sole reason these low-raters set out to watch this movie in the first place was because they read or someone told them it was about martial-arts fighters beating the shit out of each other as they played basketball. Apparently this movie, about martial-arts fighters beating the shit out of each other as they played basketball, didn’t quite scratch that itch.

What idiots.

In 2012, vote Fireball!

CLEAN, LIKE MY CONSCIENCE

"The idea had been growing in my brain for some time... true force. All the king's men cannot put it back together again."

If we don't, remember me.

UNSUNG HORRORS: STIR OF ECHOES

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.

Dir. David Koepp

1999

Artisan Entertainment

United States

In a previous Unsung Horrors post, I lamented the fact that Copycat had been completely overshadowed its debut weekend at the box office after falling victim to the similarly-themed but heavily star-powered serial thriller Se7en. A similar fate also befell this film from Spielberg stalwart/go-to screenwriter David Koepp, adapting Richard Matheson’s simple novel of the same name to the big screen. Released by the now defunct Artisan Entertainment, Stir of Echoes had the extreme misfortune to open against soon-to-be juggernaut The Sixth Sense. And while M. Night Shyamalan’s film debut was nothing more than a rip-off of an "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" episode, Stir of Echoes was based on a book already forty years old at that point. Frankly I find that a little sad, given the high prestige only one of these spooky films would go on to enjoy. While The Sixth Sense is not a bad film – not at all – would anyone remember it if not for the pushing-it twist ending? The jury’s still out on that one.

Tom Witzky (Kevin Bacon) is your every man. And he knows it. And he doesn't love it. He has a wife, Maggie (the adorable Kathryn Erbe), and son, Jake (Zachary David Cope), he clearly loves, but also a job where he "clips wires all day; a monkey could do it." Even when his wife tells him she's pregnant, his happiness is genuine, but delayed. His initial reaction? "Bummer." And again, it's not like he doesn't love and want his family, but his presence in his little-mentioned band suggests he may have wanted more for himself. He betrays this notion by admitting to his wife that he had wanted to accomplish more with his life – that he didn't expect to be so ordinary. And with this news of his wife's pregnancy, what is supposed to be joyous news instead reinforces the idea that his chances to be anything more than a husband and father are slipping away. "I'm a happy guy," he says, but doesn't altogether mean it, and it's a little saddening. This isn't just idle chatter, nor an attempt to garner false sympathy for our lead. This is important to know about Tom Witzky right up front, because it will ultimately determine how he reacts to the change that is soon to come.

Despite Tom's misgivings, life isn't so bad for the Witzkys. Their rented house, owned by their neighbor and friend Harry Damon (Conor O'Farrell) is clean and cozy. They are surrounded by good friends, including Frank McCarthy (Kevin Dunn) and his wife, Sheila. They live in Chicago, but despite the elevated train and police officers' uniforms, it feels like Boston. (It could be the tight knit community and the seemingly constant outdoor block parties, or the extra enthusiasm for the local high school football team that gives off more of a Boston vibe. Or maybe I just don't know shit about Chicago.)

At a party, Lisa begins to tell her friends about her experiences with hypnosis, and the things she has witnessed for herself. Tom, feeling good with his gut full of beer, challenges Lisa to hypnotize him, even going as far as to antagonize her into it. Lisa, wanting to show off, takes Tom up on his offer and puts him into a trance. She tells him to close his eyes and picture an old-fashion movie theater with black walls, floors, ceiling, and seats. Tom soon falls under before immediately (to us, anyway) waking right back up, disturbed, but unaware of the remaining experience of his hypnosis. Apparently while under he had admitted to certain buried secrets previously deeply hidden within his subconscious. We know right off the bat that Lisa has successfully put Tom under, and unbeknownst to him, Lisa has opened a door inside his mind, implanting a suggestion to be more open-minded in the future.

This new open-mindedness allows Tom to see the ghost that is haunting his family's house. She appears to him in nightmarish hallucinations, waking nightmares, and even in reality. Her image is pale, translucent, and flickers before him like a character in a flipbook held by unsteady hands. (Oddly, these visions of her cause Tom to become immensely thirsty, who starts off throwing back water like it's his job before moving on to stocking his fridge filled with orange juice. This odd little detail isn't quite rationalized in the film, but it's interesting nonetheless, and also makes for one particularly humorous scene later in the film.)

Stir of Echoes  is about growing up. It's about facing the fact that you're not going to live forever – and I speak not of the spirit haunting Tom Witzky, but Tom himself. He bemoans what life could have been had he been dealt different cards. And once he gets a taste of these new cards, he definitely straddles that line between intrigue/obsession and self-destruction. It's an interesting theme that Koepp injects into his film, only because it's less glamorous than one might expect. Other directors, such as Romero and Carpenter, have used the horror genre in the past to share big, dangerous ideas with you – harsh criticisms of American culture and/or government. Wes Craven's Last House on the Left was a direct response to the Vietnam War –  the violence we do, unnecessarily, to people we have never met, and who haven't wronged us in any way. By comparison, the ideas in Stir of Echoes seem pretty small – small ideas for a small man and what he deems his small life. And what might Tom learn, whether or not he survives his ordeal? Was he right to pursue these extraordinary circumstances? Would he be/feel justified? Or was he wrong to want for something more, failing to see the family before him is all he would ever need? As always, smart movies are subjective, and what you think and feel is the only message that matters.

Stir of Echoes draws interesting parallels between another similarly-themed horror novel-cum-film, The Shining. (Perhaps you've heard of it?) Like Danny Torrance, Tom's son, Jake, has the uncanny ability to communicate with spirits around him. In fact, the film begins with Jake talking with the very ghost that will soon turn its attention to Tom. And like Jack Torrance, the part of Tom that is also able to communicate will be woken up by the change he undergoes (in The Shining it was the Overlook; here, it's Tom's new-found ability to "see"). And lastly, like Wendy Torrance (more so in the book than the Kubrick film), Maggie Witzky is a fighter. She sees for herself that this radical change in Tom is causing him to lose his mind. She doesn't like the strange kinship he begins to share with his son about the ghost, and even her own "witch" sister can't provide much help. Maggie ends up on her own journey, finding help in Neil (the movie's version of Dick Halloran, if you will), a perfect stranger with the same uncanny abilities shared by her husband and son.

He tells her:

It comes and goes. Some people have it for five seconds, some their whole lives. He's a receiver now. Everything's coming in. He can't stop it; he can't slow it down; he can't even figure it out. It's like he's in a tunnel with a flashlight, but the light only comes on every once in a while. He gets a glimpse of something, but not enough to know what it is - just enough to know it's there.

And Tom knows this. He knows the change that's occurred in him. He knows there is a spirit in his house reaching out to him, and while he's reaching out to her, he's ignoring the signs she is giving him. His son communicates with her out in the open. He hums "Paint it Black" by The Rolling Stones. He even teaches his father how to play it on his guitar, pushing him closer to realizing what song it is he is unable to get out of his mind  – the significance of which he won't understand until the climax of the film.

"You're awake now, Daddy," Jake tells his father. "Don't be afraid of it." Eventually Tom begins to follow the signs, and the pieces start to come together. This isn't like The Sixth Sense in which Haley Joel sees random ghosts walking around; while creepy, they are not a part of "the big picture." In Stir of Echoes, every hallucination, every sign, every random development has everything to do with "the big picture." They are all leading Tom to one specific destination – nothing that he sees or experiences is superfluous. 

With Jake's help, along with the increasingly angry signs from the ghost, Tom follows the journey before him, but not out of fear or obligation, but because as he finally admits to his wife in a heated exchange, "This is the most important thing that's ever happened to me in my whole stupid life." He finally feels extraordinary. He finally feels like he is doing something with his life that is of value.

If Richard Matheson is a name with which you aren't at least a little bit familiar, there's nothing anyone can do for you. The man is a literary legend, and his work is still being adapted for audiences (most recently being Real Steel and The Box, based on short stories, and the Will Smith I Am Legend, based on his novel). He's inspired the likes of Stephen King, George Romero, and Neil Gaiman. It's been a while since I read the original novel A Stir of Echoes, but I do remember the movie veering off the main skeleton of the book after a while (but with thankfully positive results). Loving homage is paid to the man in the film, from a character reading his novel The Shrinking Man to the film Night of the Living Dead playing on television, whose own writer/director, George Romero, always openly labeled as an I Am Legend rip-off.

Writer/Director David Koepp hasn't found himself behind the camera for too many films. While Stir of Echoes was not his first job as director, or last, it remains his best. He's worked steadily as a screenplay writer and fixer since 1988, contributing to such films as Mission: Impossible, Jurassic Park, Carlito's Way, and Panic Room. Subsequent directorial projects for him included the disappointing Stephen King adaptation of Secret Window, as well as the humor-injected supernatural farce Ghost Town, starring Ricky Gervais (an oddball version of Stir of Echoes considering its plot). Koepp manages to inject several creepy and shocking moments in the film, such as Tom's hallucination of Frank's son, Adam, shooting himself and maniacally grinning as he smears blood all over his own face; or the tired mirror trick, in which someone quickly closes a mirror, revealing the reflection of something standing just behind them – but this time with a twist: we can see the spirit, but our character cannot, which adds an extra level of creep to the proceedings.

Kevin Bacon never spends too much time away from our genre, diving back in from time to time as if checking in. With roles in Friday the 13th, Tremors, Flatliners, and Hollow Man, it's good to know he's one of us. And Stir of Echoes ranks up there with the best of his performances. Kevin Bacon is a great actor, but he's been relegated to supporting work for most of his career, willfully and partially disappearing into ensemble films. In Stir of Echoes, the movie begins and ends with him in the lead and he takes seriously a premise through which other actors might have slept-walk. You feel for him in the film's opening when he confesses to his wife that he'd always yearned for his life to have a bit more meaning. And during the scene where he sits alone outside on the front porch of a house in which a party is occurring, with the baby monitor by his side, there's a suggested sadness present. Sure, he may have wanted more for his life than what he was given, but that didn't mean he wouldn't die for his son, either. 

Kathryn Erbe as Maggie is thankfully fleshed out and fully dimensional. The role of "the wife" is often underwritten and included in genre films just so there is one more person around to disbelieve the ensuing ramblings and claims of our lead character. But she gets in on the spooky business from the very beginning, close enough to recognize the change that's occurred in her home, but far enough removed that she can approach it with an open mind and a clear rationale. Tom might be the one suffering through the increasing anger of the ghost, but it's Maggie who puts herself in real physical danger by descending to the seedier city streets to search for the mysterious Neil, the perfect stranger who might be able to shed light on just what the hell is happening to her family.

Illeana Douglas is goddamned fun in this. She was given the best part in the film and she knows it. She plays a witch and a kook and has almost every best line in the film. She provides great comic relief when the film needs a chance to breathe, but she also seems quite real. She's dry and flippant one moment to her sister, but then immediately apologizing to her the next - and meaning it. She's a well-rounded character who starts this whole thing in the first place, but never comes off vindictive – just more of a new-age, hippie liberal. Added to that is the very subtle dislike between her and Tom – it's not overbearing like your typical cinematic sister/brother-in-law dynamic, but it's definitely present. Tom doesn't respect Lisa because she seems like a grown up child, and Lisa doesn't like Tom because she considers him close-minded and small-dreamed – something he dislikes even about himself. They make a good, if at-odds, on-screen pair.

Kudos must absolutely be given to Kevin Dunn as Frank McCarthy. Most assuredly an audience will see Kevin appear on camera and say, "hey, it's that guy!" It's because he's appeared in literally everything over the years – from "Seinfeld" to Hot Shots to the Transformers films, and most recently 2011's brilliant Warrior. Again, Dunn has found himself in supporting character work for most of his career, but it's in Stir of Echoes where he shines. This underrated actor gives a career-best performance, rattling off rambling and comedic dialogue one minute and switching gears and becoming morose and somber the next, leading to an extremely powerful performance in the film's climax. He'd never before been given the chance to express so many different emotions within one character, and his performance displays his eagerness to show all that he is capable of as an actor.

The more cynical out there might say that Stir of Echoes isn't an entirely original premise; after all: main character sees ghosts + twist ending = standard Hollywood fare. But let's not forget Richard Matheson wrote the core concept back in 1958, when it was a little less standard. And don't misunderstand my argument; I don't intend to make it sound like Stir of Echoes should be grandfathered in just because its now-cliched concept wasn't so cliche in '58. Instead, it's like I've always said: I don't care how many times I've seen the same premise in a genre film – if you come at it with a passionate and well-told story, and so long as you're backed up by talented folks in front of and behind the camera, then that's good enough for me. And it always will be.

TEOS RECOMMENDS: CABIN IN THE WOODS

 

In my experience, not many movies live up to the hype. And Cabin in the Woods was built on years of hype - not just because of the amazing reviews it is receiving, but because this movie was announced, shot, and completed immediately after Cloverfied hit theaters, which was written by Drew Goddard, Cabin's co-writer/director. It was then shelved by MGM due to its woes. (Early teaser posters are below, baring the MGM logo and the movie's original release date.)

Cabin in the Woods, now coming to you courtesy of new owner Lionsgate Films, is so completely worth the hype. Normally I would post a trailer, but I won't. You need to go in fresh. And you need to go in knowing that this movie was a love letter to horror fans. It was written by us, for us. As a friend of mine put it, Cabin in the Woods pokes fun at the familiar tropes of the horror genre, but never in a mean-spirited manner.

Some folks are saying Cabin in the Woods does for the supernatural/"cabin in the woods" genre what Scream did for the slasher genre. In my mind, Cabin in the Woods is the superior film, because unlike Scream, it never falls victim to the traits it is trying to lampoon.

Plus it has a fucking wicked cameo.

I'm curious: if you saw it, do you think it was worth the hype? I'd love to know.

SHITTY FLICKS: JASON GOES TO HELL: THE FINAL FRIDAY

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.

Abraham Lincoln’s last words were “Jason Goes to Hell is the biggest piece of shit in the world. And even though this bearded Confederate fuck is about to blow my head off, I want it on record that these were my last words: that Jason Goes to Hell is the biggest piece of shit in the world.”

He wasn’t kidding, folks. But before we get to reviewin’, let’s start with some history.

In 1980, a really cheap and simply-made horror movie, starring that guy who played the prep in National Lampoon’s Animal House, came out during the summer season. Its name was Friday the 13th, and its path to filmdom was paved when that movie’s screenwriter received a call from that movie’s director saying, “Halloween is making a lot of money, let’s rip it off.”

Actual quote.

Lineage be damned, Friday the 13th, the nothing-special-but-still-competently-made summer camp slasher movie, was released, and it was greeted by lines around the block, enthusiastic fans, and abysmal reviews.

One year later, Friday the 13th: Part 2 (originally simply titled "Jason") was released and introduced the world to the killer who took over for mama and made his name synonymous with Friday the 13th.

Paramount, though ashamed of the series, cranked these suckers out one after another on a yearly basis until 1988’s Jason Takes Manhattan, which due to poor box office, signaled the end of Paramount’s relationship with the hulked-out, rotting mongoloid known as Jason Voorhees.

Enter New Line Cinema in 1992. The rights to the series expired and New Line snapped them up, thus paving the way for Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday, whose status as the most absurd entry in the franchise remains unchallenged to date.

So, for clarification:

June 13th, 1980: Mrs. Voorhees kills counselors, blaming them for the drowning death of her son, Jason.

August 13, 1993: Jason, having inexplicably been resurrected after his toxic waste exorcism at the end of the previous film and having retaken residence at Crystal Lake, is lured out into a field by an FBI agent in a bath towel, is blown up by a SWAT team, and has his heart eaten by a coroner, which leads to his spirit possessing the bodies of several people by way of regurgitating a giant worm demon thing into their unwilling mouths, his ultimate goal being to wriggle inside the vagina of his dead sister in order to be reborn in his meaty, stinky, lumpy, hockey-mask-wearing, machete-grasping body.

Yikes. And that happened in just thirteen years. (GASP—THIRTEEN!!)

"Hello, Space. ::narrows eyes:: See you soon..."

FBI Agent Elizabeth Marcus—undercover, naturally—shows up onsite at the former residence of the Voorhees family home in Camp Crystal Lake, NJ. Elizabeth walks into a cabin, flips a switch, and a light bulb sparks to life momentarily before pooping out and coating itself in brown goo, which is something I must say I’ve never seen a light bulb do. She then strips down, revealing her very unsexy and masculine body, to take a shower.

I’ll give her credit for knowing what draws Jason out.

Sho'nuff, Jason shows up, attacks her with his trusty machete, and sends her hurtling down over the balcony to crash into a coffee table.

Jason, despite the presence of the brutally brilliant KNB EFX, looks the absolute worst he has in this series. And not in the good way. His previous bad-ass visage consisting of an exposed spine and a face only a decapitated mommy head could love has been replaced with the look of a dumpy voo-doo doll and a big round head that looks like Aqua Teen's Meatwad.

I don’t approve.

Jason hauls ass after the toweled girl to the middle of a field, where spotlights suddenly flash on, and SWAT team members open fire on him (positioned in a circle around him, which means odds are in real life, some members on either side would have blown each other’s faces off).

An expertly-placed bomb blows Jason to literal smithereens, limbs, head, and heart flying in every direction.

Miles away from the explosion, Creighton Duke ("The X-Files'" [and The Blues Brothers'!] Steven Williams), apparently-famous bounty hunter, lowers his binoculars and gives a steely glance.

“I don’t think so…”

Sigh.

Say, since Jason is dead forever and ever now (ha ha) can I briefly ask if anyone else can hear a single fucking thing said in this movie? Why is the goddamned volume so low on this thing?

Jason’s remains are flown to Youngstown, Ohio, to be given a once-over by a couple of coroners who don’t take their jobs all that seriously.

As Older & Blacker Coroner performs his autopsy, Jason’s heart (which we learn is twice the size of a normal heart, kinda like the Grinch post-Christmas) begins to beat methodically, hypnotizing Older & Blacker Coroner until he literally picks up the heart, growls animalistically, and shoves it into his mouth for a huge bite.

Eating Jason's heart is grounds for death by alien lasers.

Hang on, folks, because we’re now officially in please-check-your-disbelief-at-the-door territory. Older & Blacker Coroner, (now Jason), finishes his hearty meal (OMG!) and stands around, waiting for something to happen.

And something does: Annoying Weiner Coroner (aka the movie's screenwriter).

Annoying Weiner Coroner walks into the room, having just been felt-up by some FBI agents (why security for a dead body is necessary remains unknown). Annoying Weiner Coroner begins showing what a man he is by calling the dead body of Jason a “faggoty, blown-up fuck.”

Then a probe gets up in his face.

As Jason, wearing the body of Older & Blacker Coroner, exits the room covered in blood, the FBI agents (one of whom is actually Kane Hodder, the man responsible for playing Jason in Friday the 13ths VII-X), says that Jason was “nothing but a big ol’ pussy, anyway.”

And for the second time in this movie, a part Kane Hodder is playing is cut very short.

Later, in the backroom of a diner located in Crystal Lake, a woman named Diana fearfully watches an episode of “American Casefile,” which is detailing the disappearance of Jason’s body from the morgue, and the path of dead bodies seemingly on the way back to Crystal Lake.

“American Casefile” host Robert Smarmdude interviews Creighton Duke, who claims to know of Jason’s ability to possess people’s body.

During a round of word association, Robert asks Creighton what he thinks of when he says the name Jason Voorhees. Creighton responds with, “A little girl in a pink dress, sticking a hot dog through a donut.”

I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but it belongs on BrainyQuotes.

Creighton ends the interview with a nod to Jaws, offering to kill Jason for half a million dollars, which would include: “the mask, the machete, the whole damn thing.”

"A black cowboy? What is this, some kind of joke?"

Diana, who is Jason’s sister and was absolutely never mentioned before in this series, turns off the TV and goes back to work.

This is when we meet Steven (John D. Lemay, "Friday the 13th: The Series"), the dweebiest Friday hero so far. Steven, who was dating and is currently estranged from Diana’s daughter, Jessica, plans to meet Diana later on to discuss his failed relationship.

Later that night (in an obvious re-shoot), Steven drives to Diana’s, and picks up some hitchhikers who plan on fucking and doing drugs at Crystal Lake “now that Jason is dead.”

Good one.

Jason—smelling sex—shows up and slashes one of the girls in the face before proceeding to what will be the best kill in the series (just behind the sleeping bag death from The New Blood).

Jason picks up a tent spike and plows it through the belly of a girl currently giving her boyfriend the ride of his life, and gloriously rips it all the way up, out through her shoulder, splitting her into two very wet parts. The screaming boy’s head is then stomped in for good measure.

At the time of this movie’s shooting, the director was 21-years-old. Can you tell?

Later, Jason figures he’ll expand his horizons, so he kidnaps an old man, Deputy Josh, and shaves his buck-baked body, which is strapped down to a table in the living room of his old house. He even has a fire roaring in the fireplace (to make things as romantic as possible for the two dudes). Jason ’s got quite a big load for this old man, and he wants to be sure it will fit in his mouth.

Jason lovingly applies shaving lotion, shaves the man, and then some delightful kissing ensues, as Jason regurgitates some weird black-viscous covered thing into the man's throat.

Jason’s old body then drops dead, and after a few moments, Jason’s new body comes to: now that of Deputy Josh.

In that big list of things that people felt the Friday the 13th series needed, homoerotic shaving can now be checked off, just under a 3D eyeball, Horshak, and Crispin Glover’s frenetic dancing.

Steven gets to Diana’s house, where Jason also shows up.

Now, we don’t find this out for a little bit, but we eventually find out from Creighton Duke that Jason needs the body of someone in the Voorhees bloodline to be physically reborn, returning him to his dumpy potato-sack body, mask, and all.

So, in this scene, where Jason chooses to instead kill Diana, ignore her body, and go after Steven, you’ll wonder just what the fuck his problem is.

Steven pricks Jason with a firepoker and tosses him out the window. Luckily for Steven, the Sheriff shows up, sees his dead lady love on the ground and a bloody Steven claiming that the killer was actually the sheriff’s own deputy. Not to mention that, even luckier, the body of the deputy is now missing.

Dancing with the Stars got really intense
once Margot Kidder joined the cast.

Needless to say, Steven goes right to jail and does not collect $200. It’s at this prison where Steven meets Creighton Duke (locked up for strictly being a dick), who regales him with his expansive knowledge of the Voorhees family, and how Jason can finally be damned to hell for good...at the hands of a Voorhees. Welp…Diana’s dead, so I guess that leaves her daughter, Jessica…and Jessica’s newborn baby!

Plot twist!

Steven escapes from the prison and goes to the Voorhees house, where he spots an old book of spells and skeletons on the desk: The Evil Dead’s Necromonicon. Gosh, what a neat homage. If only it were in a good movie.

Smarmy Robert suddenly walks in talking on his huge cell phone about the truly exploitative segment he is planning on for his show: Secrets of the Voorhees House Revealed. He then details how he had (quite easily it seems) stolen Diana’s body from the morgue and planted it in the house in order to avoid the mistake Geraldo made many years ago. Jason then bursts in and kisses Robert, giving him the worm. Deputy Josh melts and Robert comes to, now more evil than even a TV executive.

After that it’s a race against time for Steven to get to Jessica before Jason does. Well, they kinda get there at the same time and Steven runs Jason over with her car as she screams and beats the hell out of him, leaving him on the side of the road to be promptly arrested.

Boy, this is exhausting, isn’t it?

Flash forward through a lot of bullshit, a talking Jason, and some glorious violence, and Jason is reborn when the demon worm slithers up into the vagigi of dead Diana.

Jason is finally actually in his own fucking movie, and it took 85 minutes.

Jessica, using the magic dagger given to her by Creighton, plants the sumbitch right into Jason’s heart. Big meaty puppet hands explode from the ground to grab at Jason and pull him down into Hell, slowly and awkwardly.

And in the now well-known shock ending to end all shock endings, Freddy Krueger’s glove bursts from the ground, grabs the mask left behind by Jason, and drags it down to Hell with him, laughing maniacally, and intentionally setting the stage for Freddy vs. Jason, the movie that everyone assumed was going to happen just a year or two later, and not the ten years that it actually took.

The filmmakers of Jason Goes to Hell pride themselves for taking on an iconic character and trying something new.

I don’t.

Had Jason actually been in this film the entire time, and with some slight plot modifications, and yes, even if the movie had just been a huge rip-off of Halloween (again), this still would have been one of the series' strongest entries. But these douchebags opted to add magic instead.

Drop Jason back off in the woods and leave him there. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to visit.