NIGHT DANGER

I love this.

TALES FROM THE HOOD (1995)

The granddaddy of all horror anthologies will always be the George A. Romero/Stephen King collaboration Creepshow, released in 1982, which was a loving homage to the EC Comics line of the 1950s. Borrowing its format from the previous Amicus anthological films, released under the branded titles of those same EC Comics (Tales from the Crypt and The Vault of Horror, specifically), Creepshow presented a handful of stories tied together by what’s become known as the “wraparound” story – at first an introduction to the anthological format, which is slowly revealed to be yet another story with a typically unfortunate resolution for its characters. Anthology films are a tough nut to crack, because their nature leaves them vulnerable to an inconsistent experience. The construction of mini stories will have them pitted against each other for best and worst, scariest and ickiest, etc. No one anthology can claim flawlessness. (Not even the aforementioned Creepshow, because the “meteor shit!” story starring not-at-all-an-actor Stephen King is still one of the worst things of all time.) Creepshow 2 would continue the legacy of its predecessor, dialing back on Romero’s purposeful comic book direction and focusing on a more straightforward horror experience while falling victim to a hampering amount of Capra-esque schmaltz.

Years later, and produced by Spike Lee, Tales from the Hood would come down the pike and result in — quite honestly — the best horror anthology since then...if not ever. Written by X-Files/Millennium writer favorite Darin Scott and director Rusty Cundieff, Tales from the Hood would borrow the same basic construction from the Amicus films of the early ‘70s, along with minor elements from a host of other anthologies, and infuse a detectably angry tone that examines an array of African-American issues. The segments touch on urban crime, drug use, and – depressingly relevant even today – racism within police and political culture. Tales from the Hood, unlike many other urban horror films, wasn’t intent on pandering. It didn’t play up to stereotypes or fall back on cliché. Every story contains both a darkness and a hard truth about being a black man, woman, or child in America. This approach can, at times, make it hard to watch. But, having said that, make no mistake: Tales from the Hood also wants to entertain – in the same way the anthological horrors before it endeavored to do.

“Welcome to My Mortuary” sees a trio of teens dropping by a rundown mortuary where its owner, the mysterious and eccentric Simms (with an incredible performance by Clarence Williams III), apparently has come across a load of drugs and is looking to sell. (Every time he refers to it as “the shit,” it’s undeniably hilarious.) Williams III serves as the de facto Crypt Keeper, in that as they descend deeper into the bowels of the house where “the shit” is stored, he pulls back the lid of a random coffin to reveal the corpse inside – and the insidious tale of horror that put them there. For anthologies that try to beef up their wraparound stories, they generally come off as perfunctory, but the concept of a mortician telling stories about the corpses in his funeral home is a stroke of genius and is the best use of the device I can think of in the genre.

“Rogue Cop Revelation” sees a “routine” pullover of a prominent black politician (played by Creepshow 2’s Tom Wright) by racist white cops (among them Wings Hauser) go very wrong. Similar to the very story from Creepshow 2 which starred Wright, his character is killed and his perpetrators flee, assuming they’ve gotten away from it, but he returns from the dead to set that record straight. And his undead politician manages to be more unnerving than his undead hitchhiker. (Maybe because said undead politician lacks a gigantic flailing puppet tongue.)

“Boys Do Get Bruised” (featuring a role for director Rusty Cundieff) is the only story that doesn’t lend itself specifically to the black experience, instead presenting a young boy named Walter who tells his teacher that “the monster” at his house hurts him at night, which is soon revealed to be an abusive stepfather (played by comedian David Alan Grier). Where it lacks in one regard, that being a uniquely African-American experience, it makes up for with an intense and unflinching look at in-home domestic abuse, with Grier playing an unbelievable and legitimately intimidating bastard. Though the intensity of the story is a little undone by its end, falling back on a sudden and inappropriate silliness, it still results in being the most realistic of the bunch, leaving it very difficult to watch.

“KKK Comeuppance” feels the most traditionally EC Comics – a take on the Zuni doll story from another horror anthology, Trilogy of Terror – which sees an openly racist politician wonderfully played by Corbin Bernsen being stalked through his newly acquired plantation home by a handful of “pickaninny” dolls allegedly possessed by the spirits of all the slaves who died there. As suggested by its name, this story is the most daring, with the audience seeing an obviously racist politician pander to his similarly racist would-be voters in public, producing campaign videos lambasting affirmative action and nearly using the word “spook” in front of reporters. This story’s moral/warning is the most direct, but if you still need convincing, then just wait for the (multiple) scenes where Bernsen’s politician beats paintings and dolls reflecting African Americans with an American flag. It ain’t exactly subtle, though not to the detriment of the film. Much of this story’s power comes from the audience constantly asking, “Should I be enjoying this?” — especially when Bernsen is chasing slave dolls around the house while shouting “you little nigglins!” In 1995, seeing a character portrayed as a former KKK member operating from a plantation house and referring to the black protestors on his lawn as a “damned minstrel show” running for political office might have seemed a bit too over the top – as how could anyone in his or her right mind ever vote for such a sleaze? – but then the 2016 election happened and a tidal wave of self-avowed white supremacists oozed from the cracks, so…let’s move on.

The final story, “Hardcore Convert,” is by far the angriest and carries with it the most significant message of them all...and not one you'd expect. A young black youth nicknamed “Crazy K” is wounded in a street shootout, and after recuperating in prison, agrees to take part in a highly experimental rehabilitation program in exchange for early release. Heavily influenced by the horrors of Jacob’s Ladder, Hellraiser, and A Clockwork Orange, “Hardcore Convert” is little concerned with entertainment value and more focused on nauseating and angering its audience with very real historical images of the massacres committed against black men and women since their earliest days as natives in America, the message being – after all the horrors they have faced – black-on-black crime needs to stop before everyone wipes each other out. Because of the streets-based hook for this story, it also contains the most vibrant use of the film's soundtrack, including the track "Born 2 Die" by hip-hop group Spice 1, which plays during the aforementioned compilation of African-American lynchings and genocide.

Tales from the Hood concludes with a return to the wraparound story, which unfolds in a not-so-surprising way, but also unfolds with a degree of cartoonish insanity that, as the credits roll, will leave a smile on your face. In spite of the anger, frustration, and depravity you’ve already witnessed and experienced, overall, that was the point of Tales from the Hood in the first place – to entertain. And it certainly does.

I have no qualms with saying that Tales from the Hood – easily dismissible thanks to the influx of cheap and trashy urban horror films saturating the DTV market, including its own sequels – ranks as one of the best horror anthologies ever made. Funny when it wants to be, dark when it’s willing to go there, and depressingly more relevant than ever before, Tales from the Hood packs a punch to an almost punishing degree, as each story reveals not just a horror in the streets or of the unknown, but within the mortals who brought those stories to life and who, mostly, succumbed to their own morality. A pseudo-blaxploitation meets horror anthology, Tales from the Hood takes an old approach, injects it with some ingenuity, and creates from it an excellent addition to the genre that has the balls as well as the brains to speak some hard truths. If ever I'm in the mood for anthology horror, I reach for Tales from the Hood almost every time, because it's, quite frankly:

SPIRAL

GOD'S LONELY MAN

Loneliness has followed me my whole life. 

Everywhere. 

In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. 

There's no escape. 

I'm God's lonely man.

Print source.

THE GREASY STRANGLER (2016)

Sometimes you watch a film. Sometimes a film happens to you. The latter is far less common, but when it does occur, it often makes for an unforgettable experience, regardless of whether you love it or hate it.

The Greasy Strangler is not a film you watch. It’s a film that happens to you.

A quasi would-be love child between Rubber and Wrong director Quentin Dupieux and Adult Swim icons Tim and Eric, The Greasy Strangler is earnestly, joyfully, and relentlessly insane — a smorgasbord of absurdism, gross-out humor, and violence so purposely stupid that it barely registers as offensive. (Oh, and let’s not forget all that disco.) Odd characters wearing odd clothes, saying and doing odd things, and looking like every repulsive “people of Walmart” meme you ever saw — that’s The Greasy Strangler.

Making his feature film directorial debut, Jim Hosking had absolutely no interest in transitioning from the world of short films into a project a bit more traditional. Along with co-writer Toby Harvard, Hosking has created one of the oddest and quirkiest films in recent and not-so-recent memory, filling it with a collection of absolutely loathsome and selfish characters engaging in a Fight Club-ish love/sex triangle so nauseating but conflictingly funny that it actually has the power to make every sexual act known to man kind of silly, and almost an embarrassing activity in which to engage even for the super beautiful.

And I haven’t even mentioned the fact that the patriarch of this queasy threesome, Big Ronnie (a very brave Michael St. Michaels) just also happens to cover himself in thick sheens of homemade grease before taking to the streets to strangle an array of people who apparently had it coming until their eyes pop out of their skulls like Judge Doom in the finale of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? The choosing of Ronnie’s victims are hilariously superficial, and despite being the walking humanoid opposite of Hannibal Lecter’s esteem, grace, and opulence, the good doctor would very much approve of Ronnie’s going after those who exhibited rudeness. There’s no motive to Ronnie’s choice of victim beyond they were dicks to him — either by their nature, or in response to how much of a dick Big Ronnie had been to them during a previous interaction. The motivelessness of Ronnie’s murders would hinder literally any other kind of film, but this is The Greasy Strangler we’re talking about — it simply doesn’t matter.

Caught in the middle is Big Ronnie’s son, Big Brayden (Sky Elobar, a doppelganger for Eric Wareheim of the before mentioned Tim and Eric comedy duo), who wrestles with whether or not to report to the authorities that his father is “The Greasy Strangler” — that is until he meets his “girlfriend” Janet (Elizabeth De Razzo), after whom Big Ronnie also begins lusting. It’s when the love triangle portion of the conflict comes into play that Big Brayden decides it’s time to act.

And so many old, red-tipped, uncircumcised dicks (“it looks like a big mouse head!”) will be flashed.

Attempting to properly review The Greasy Strangler to an unsuspecting readership is like trying to describe a Bosch painting to a person born blind. You can try — and it’ll take forever — but there’s no use. The only way to appreciate the majestic lunacy of The Greasy Strangler is to see it for yourself. 

Do you enjoy the exploits of Adult Swim? An unfettered fan of Check It Out with Dr. Steve Brule? Were you fascinated by the plotless/beplotted killer tire horror satire Rubber? Do you have a strong stomach and enjoy the sight of plump bodies in all kinds of sex positions? The Greasy Strangler might be your new favorite film; it might also be the absolute worst thing you ever see in your life, leaving you cursing the people who made it, distributed it, and recommended it (like me). A very adult version of Napoleon Dynamite but without the irritation (depending on your particular brand of humor, that is), let The Greasy Strangler happen to you and make up your own mind.

Just don’t forget to shower in the car wash afterward.

WTF

TERMINATOR: GENISYS (2015)

With the newest entry in the Terminator franchise, Terminator: Dark Fate, opening this weekend, let's do some time traveling ourselves and look at the previous piece-of-shit sequel, Terminator Genisys, which, according to Dark Fate, no longer exists. (Thank you!)

It's entirely possible that Terminator Genisys, essentially Terminator 5 no matter what anyone says, was never going to be a good film, regardless of who replaced Cameron as director or the immortal Michael Biehn as Kyle Reese. By now, it's unavoidable to recognize the irony in film after film being made in which people (and robots) rely on time travel to keep cleaning up their own messes, all while said films shit the bed and make things even more complicated. The finale of Terminator 2: Judgment Day was supposed to retcon Skynet and all its underlings entirely out of existence. Then they made three more Terminators. And this franchise doesn't lend itself to "what-if?" one-offs where different filmmakers apply their different stamps to see what sticks against the wall. The mythology of the series has become so important that there's no "ignoring" certain entries. Using the same characters and even the same actors will inevitably make any sequel the next chapter in one long killer-robot story. But by now, that story has overstayed its welcome. The first two Cameron films were landmark achievements in storytelling and visual effects. They didn't just spawn from the cinematic movement, but they defined what the movement was all about. They were, and are, important.

Terminator Genisys is not.

While Terminator Genisys does offer a reasonable amount of entertainment, and it's always fun to see Arnold take on one of his most famous characters in a different way, even if he's guilty of committing sacrilege as he does so, it had a responsibility to try and live up to the two landmark films it was attempting to reboot/recreate/retcon all at the same time. But it not only doesn't, it comes nowhere close. Terminator Genisys is the film that would exist in the satirical cinematic universe of something like Tropic Thunder, or even The Naked Gun, where of course a Terminator 5 would be ridiculous, and of course it would try to explain how a robot can age (it's real skin!) and of course it would be a little dumbed down and neutered to appeal to as many people as possible. (For example, in 1995, the sketch comedy series Mad TV made a fake trailer for a film called Apollo the 13th: Jason Takes NASA, in which Jason went to space. In 2001, New Line Cinema sent Jason to space...for real. When the order is parody first and reality later, that's bad!)  T2 had some pretty weighty themes about fate, about life and death, about the hard choices for the greater good. It wanted to entertain its audience, but it also wanted them to think. Meanwhile, the convolution of Genisys's plot feels manufactured, under the guise of being smart, as if its events and ramifications were made purposely complex in order to let its audience off the hook for trying to understand them, instead patting them on the head and saying, "Just enjoy all the carnage, m'kay?" Even the film's own director has said:

“Arnold has one of the most unpronounceable, impenetrable expositional lines in the movie when he says, ‘It’s possible to remember two time frames when you enter the quantum field during a nexus moment,’ and nobody has any idea what he’s talking about. But yes, it makes sense. We don’t expect anybody to get it—then Kyle turns to Sarah and says, ‘Can you make him stop talking like that?’ It’s a way to say, you don’t really have to get this. If you want to nerd out, it’s all there, I think it’s coherent. But hopefully we can move on.”

Movies!

Terminator Genisys is a greatest hits compilation performed by a shitty cover band. It's desperate to hit all the same beats that made the first two Terminator films so memorable and effective, but it doesn't really want to try earning them. It wants Sarah and Kyle to fall in love. It wants to show that even a cybernetic organism of living tissue over a metal endoskeleton can learn to be human. It wants to resurrect the T-1,000, a terminator even more famous and recognizable than Arnold's iteration. It wants to talk about fate. But it's in too much of a hurry to bask in the love established for those aspects from the first two films. It doesn't want to be patient and slowly but deliberately lead up to those revelations. Instead, Sarah and Kyle will be forced to naked-hug, which = express love. Instead, the T-800 will already show traits of a human being since he's been around forever and we can just skip all that "becoming" human stuff. Instead, the first appearance of this new-fangled version of the T-1,000 will feel obligatory. And forget fate--conversations about it can't be had when the plot is this impossible to decipher. Genisys thinks that by revisiting all these common themes from the first two films it will be grandfathered into their upper echelons of respectability, but it does nothing to earn that respect beyond riding the coattails of a legacy and calling it homage.

Following the casting announcement which hailed the return of Arnold to the franchise, each subsequent actor added to the project left people feeling, at the least, ambivalent, and at the most, irritated. Some were adamant that Emilia Clarke would make a good Sarah Connor, citing her role as Daenerys on Game of Thrones as evidence she could play a strong character (even though Daenerys had done nothing more than hire people stronger than herself to do all the heavy lifting--that and ride dragons). However, nearly everyone was dismayed that Jai Courtney, the anthropomorphic equivalent of anti-charisma, was to be featured it yet another franchise. Ironically, it would be the addition of actors worth a damn--Jason Clarke and J.K Simmons--that would result in further frustration, being that they were barely used enough to warrant their presence. Of course seeing Arnold is a delight--seeing him in any film is a delight--but when he's playing second fiddle to Courtney's block-of-wood acting prowess and Emilia Clarke trying not to look like a child with giant plastic guns, the film comes dangerously close to allowing its audience not to take anything seriously.

Not helping things is its unfortunate PG-13 rating, yet another effort on behalf of the studio to reach a new audience. The grisly grindhouseness of the original film is gone, along with the brutality and intensity. (There's not a drop of blood in this thing.) Also gone, probably for good: Arnold playing the villain. By now, his original incarnation of the T-800 has been Uncle Bobbed out of existence. Now, instead of the relentless and bloodthirsty terminator that can't be bargained or reasoned with, and will not stop--ever--he's become the uncool parent dropping off his daughter at school and making her look like an idiot because he doesn't know who Selina Gomez is. Sure, Freddy Krueger grew pretty lame after a while and ended up on kids' t-shirts and lunch boxes, but at least he still violently killed a lot of people in his very bloody, R-rated sequels. For a terminator, Schwarzenegger's T-800 doesn't do a whole lot of terminating. And it's become a rather toothless affair to witness.

Hollywood loves the adage of "never say never," so as long as there's still life in any ol' franchise, and Genisys made just enough money to prove that there is, they will never stop sending people back in time to fight robots alongside other robots. Paramount lost the rights to the Terminator franchise in 2019, at which point Cameron and Deadpool director Tim Miller joined forces to bring the world Terminator: Dark Fate (with Paramount back on board). Many folks seem to be assuming it's a given that since Cameron is involved as producer and co-writer, he'll make a film worthy of the Terminator brand. While of course that's possible, I'm not buying it. Let's not forget that Cameron previously went on record as saying he believed Genisys to be the third "official" sequel and a great movie. Let's also not forget he offered pre-release praise for the widely dismissed Rise of the Machines, which means his overview of the series is now suspect. Regardless of how Terminator: Dark Fate lands with audiences and critics, and regardless of whether or not it turns into a new planned trilogy spearheaded by Cameron and Miller, it's a near certainty that whoever holds the series rights is never going to make another worthy entry. It's also a near certainty they are never going to stop trying. Which is kind of sad, because each new entry that's supposed to recapture the magic of the first two Terminators is, ironically, so far removed from what made them great that it's become fairly evident those in charge have no idea what made them magical in the first place.

Much like Salvation before it, and as Dark Fate is planning, Genisys was supposed to kickstart a brand new Terminator trilogy for a new generation. This, obviously, won't come to pass. Regardless of the studio backing the film or the filmmaker chosen to take the helm, does the world really need any more Terminators? Surely there are people out there who would welcome additional forays into the world of Terminator 3.0, but then there are others out there who fondly remember having seen Cameron's original films (the first was a very adult, R-rated horror/slasher film--did you realize that?) and will decide, with their hard-earned dollars, that a rebooted Terminator franchise is very much obsolete.