Behold My (Apparently) First Review - House of the Dead

I know I've been AWOL for a while, but I just got engaged, and a couple other things have been more pressing as of late. I want to rectify that, and what with all the talk about people's first posts, I figured this would be a funny way to get back into the groove.

After 34 Minutes In, Blogger Realizes There's Still 2 Hours To Go In Transformers 3

It took about thirty four minutes. That breaks down to two thousand forty seconds. Every now and then, I'm in the mood to watch Bay porn, but the Gods of incoherent robot smashing action did not favor him on this day. After what felt like an eternity, I checked the counter to see how much longer I had to endure the antics of Sam Witwicky and his comical sidekick auto-bots. I was in shock to learn there was still two hours to go. Two hours breaks down to one hundred twenty minutes. That breaks down to seven thousand two hundred seconds. After considering masturbating with a cheese grater which is slightly amusing but basically painful, I decided to let the film run and see how much more productive I could be with those two hours.

GPSerious: They Came Back (2004)

For those of you who appreciate and laugh at my humorous articles, I do thank you. I can usually find something to laugh at with any movie, no matter how serious it takes itself. They Came Back is an exception to that rule. I find nothing remotely funny about the premise or execution of this movie, and what I'm about to write will reflect that. If you'd rather see me shit on a bad horror movie, go read this. On the other hand, if you'd like to read about why They Came Back scares me more than any film by Romero, Kubrick, or Craven ever could, then this is probably the review for you.

3rd Time's a Charm - Mimic 3 Sentinel (2003)

When you think of the third entry in any horror series, what do you think of? A lot of the time, if a franchise makes it to that point, it's done so by dumbing-down the story and/or simply adding buckets of gore. Not so with Mimic 3 Sentinel. Directed by J.T. Petty, the movie is - get ready for this - Rear Window with giant cockroaches. Does that raise an eyebrow? It should.

Fuck You, Paul W.S. Anderson. No, Really. Part 1.

There's always discussion between myself and Markus about how some filmmakers are just pretentious and boring. They tend to make bloated, obtuse films that only make sense if you know ahead of time what to look for. Call it high art if you want; I don't really care. The reason I bring that up is because even though we like to make fun of the snooty crowd, the opposite end of the spectrum is just as bad. How do I know? Paul W.S. Anderson just proved it to me with Resident Evil: Afterlife.

If My Car Ever Breaks Down, I'll Run - Calvaire (2004)

I just finished watching Calvaire, and one thing really struck me: This movie has been made about 80 bajillion times. Guess what, though? It's awesome. The plot takes about 5.5 seconds to explain, but that's alright. A guy's van breaks down in bum-fuck nowhere, France, and he ends up at the mercy of some horrendously flawed individual. Yes, please stop me if you've heard that one before. But I swear this one is different.

Oh, Yea...I Forgot This is a Series - Universal Soldier: The Return (1999)

Until moments ago, I had no idea this franchise boasted the talents of Burt Reynolds and Gary Busey. Huh...look it up.

This is the preferred posture for cyborg killers. It enhances spinal structure and keeps the body limber in case any sexual activity is needed.

Medical Malpractice - Return to Oz (1985)

That's not a creepy, photoshopped version of Fairuza Balk. Also, that's bullshit throwing the Tin Man in there.

Oh, hey, I forgot about this place. So, yea, I just finished watching Return to Oz. It's one I saw years ago, and I've owned the DVD for some time now, but tonight was the first time I'd seen it in at least 15 years. It's interesting what a child's brain remembers, especially when that brain, aged a bit more, gets to see the same images through an adult filter. Guess what, though? Return to Oz is still pretty fucked up, so the cheering can commence.

First things first; I remember the movie covering a hell of a lot more ground than it actually does. I mean, there's really not much going on at all during the 110 minute run time. The movie didn't feel short, but I'm having trouble coming up with an answer as to where the last 2 hours went. Here's a pretty faithful plot synopsis: Dorothy is having mental issues stemming from the whole tornado episode that happened 6 months ago, so good ol' Aunt Em decides to take her to a doctor with one of those new-fangled electric machines. All doesn't go well, and Dorothy ends up back in Oz, only this time Oz sucks. Picture the Emerald City, but if it was run by the Warriors or the Baseball Furies (whichever is more your scene). In either case, Dorothy finds another group of rag-tag unintentional ass-kickers, and they head off to the Nome King's mountain, where they play a short guessing game. Dorothy wins, and everybody is happy. She goes back to Kansas, where everyone is looking for her, and she lives happily ever after. Except...

...oh, yea. See, it's almost easy to forget the whole reason for Dorothy's second visit to Oz. Oh, it's just her imagination. Oh, the weather was horrible and she had a nightmare. Oh, a scary man administered electric shock therapy to her. Wait, what? Yes, that's the impetus for her return journey: electric shock therapy. I guess the turn of the century brought with it some magical new scientific devices (get it?) that were able to explore the depths of the human mind. By "explore," I mean shocking the shit out of her until her mind drifted away and she ruptured a lobe or something. She got tazed, bro.

Check it out, it's like I said: The Warriors with children and mechanical wonders.

In fact, she got tazed so hard that instead of curing her "waking dreams," as the magical looney bin doctor put it, the experience immediately sent her into a fucking frenzy. She somehow managed not to drown long enough to wash up on an embankment, where she probably just lied there unconscious for a while. How do I know this? Well, the film uses a couple of tricks that the original had in its bag way back in 1939. The biggest and most telling technique is the transposing of certain images and sounds from Kansas into Oz. When Dorothy first arrives at the looney bin, she's escorted to her room. While walking down the hallway, a probably retarded man is seen pushing a gurney on loud, rusted wheels. A few minutes later, as she sits in her room, she can hear the horrible sound of the wheels slowly moving towards her from behind the door. That would be a pretty disturbing experience for a 10-year-old, and, what's this? Oh, the Wheelers in Oz get around with wheels on four appendages, and they make a loud squeaking noise as if they were rusted. Yea, that's called psychological trauma. Also, the head nurse in Kansas was pretty straight-laced and creepy, so it's fitting she was turned into a witch. Fuck her and her black outfit and way too tight corset. The looney bin doctor also had a fitting alter-ego in the Nome King. Props to that dude (sorry, too lazy to grab his name) for really selling the Nome King to me. I think that role could have easily faded into the background as the stop-motion effects took over, but the facial expressions exhibited by the King were spot-on. I don't know if the voice-over was done by the same actor, but whoever did that deserves equal amount of props.

After watching this film again for the first time in a long while, it really did feel more like a children's movie this time around. But a lot of the creepy stuff I remembered was still there, such as Princess Mombi's hall of heads that she would switch out with her body whenever she felt like it, I guess. In a rare scene with details, Jack (the pumpkin-headed dude played by Brian Henson) lets us in on the little secret that Mombi can only remember shit when she's wearing the same head she was when the thing she's trying to remember occurred. In other words, if I was wearing head number 2 when someone punched me in the face, then decided to put on head number 1, only head number 2 would know about the face-punching. Anyways, it's fucking disturbing when you have a long hallway full of heads screaming "Dorothyyyyy!!!!" as a headless body fumbles around with both arms out trying to strangle the life out of a child.

Not pictured: something not disturbing.

I'm not sure what other stuff makes an almost one-to-one translation from Kansas to Oz, but I'm sure there's some more fucked up shit in there for more astute (read: unlazy) viewers to pick apart. I think I got all the metaphors I needed from my viewing. Oh, sorry, there's one more. Right before Dorothy is given electric shock, the doctor shows her the machine he uses. He clearly points out a "face" on the panel, and it has a little wind-up part to it - just like Tik-tok. So, is Dorothy in Kansas anymore? Um, no, but she's not in Oz, either. She's in fucking La-La-Land along with everyone in Gitmo. What doesn't kill her only makes her more susceptible to further harm, right? Right.

You know what? Who cares. Greatest animatronic chicken. Evar.

I'm gearing up for a run at reading the first 14 books in the Oz series, so I figured I'd throw this on as an appetizer. It certainly did what I wanted it to, and I'm ready to delve into the source material and see how many times the Tin Man hacked off his own limbs. Maybe I'll make a drinking game out of it.

No Clever Title...This Movie Was a Mess - The Wolfman (2010)

Sometimes trailers can be misleading. In the case of The Wolfman, I thought it looked to be a tad reminiscent of Bram Stoker's Dracula. It seemed like the film was going for a dream-like atmosphere that Francis Ford Coppola mastered 18 years ago (I feel old now), and I was intrigued. It's something that Tim Burton manages to do with just about every film he makes. Things don't look quite real, but they don't look fake either. It's a fine line to walk, and only a handful of directors can pull it off. But that's all irrelevant, because The Wolfman is not as good as its trailer makes it out to be. The cast is great and the material is ripe for a tragic tale of violence, love and remorse, but the final product is horribly, horribly flawed.

Now, as I understand it, the film went though a lot of development hell. Directors were changed and the editing was perhaps done with little time left, and it shows. I don't know any details, but if any of that is true, I can only wonder what I would have watched had the film been handled better. As it stands, it's a cobbled-together mess of good ideas and characters that makes me want to rip my hair out and eat it. I don't know why I would eat it, but that's what The Wolfman has reduced me to. For starters, the first half hour of the film contained the worst pacing and editing I've seen in years. Shit just starts happening without a moment to catch your breath or think about what's actually going on. It jumps from scene to scene at break-neck speed and doesn't let the viewer soak up anything being shown on the screen. They might as well have just started the thing with Benicio turning into a werewolf. Speaking of Benicio Del Toro, his character is shoddily introduced with an Emily Blunt voice-over of a letter she's writing to him. His brother (her fiance or husband, I forget) was missing and she was writing to ask for Benicio to come help aid in the search. That's all well and good, but 30 seconds of exposition later and there he is, standing inside his father's house. Ok, who is he? I don't know; there was a shot of him on stage doing Hamlet, so he's an actor. But the film never bothers to flesh his character out. In fact, the film doesn't flesh anyone out at all, and that's the most frustrating thing for me. If I'm supposed to care about what happens to these people, I need to have some kind of justification for investing my emotions. The Wolfman utterly fails in providing me with any reason to care, and that just makes the whole thing pointless.

pictured: Sir Not Appearing in this Film.

Also, a bizarre disappointment was Del Toro's performance. I know for a fact it's not due to his ability as an actor, so someone else needs to be kidney punched for making him do it. Every line he uttered was wooden and almost like he was reading it straight from the script. Everything else about him was fine, such as his facial expressions, posture, etc. But his line delivery was jarring and unnatural. Even more bizarre, however, was Anthony Hopkins' bi-polar accent. One minute he's speaking like he does in every other movie, and the next he has a full-on Irish accent. Then it's back to normal again. I can't for the life of me understand what the hell was going on with that. But the best performance of the film was pretty much wasted in Hugo Weaving as Inspector Abberline. He has a couple of stand-out scenes, then the film mostly forgets about him until he needs to shoot stuff at the end. There are numerous occasions - definitely with Abberline - where it seems like character development, scene transitions and plot points were cut from the film. Overall, it felt like about an hour of footage was dropped, and that hour was sorely needed.

In this scene, the gypsy lady was going to explain how to cure cancer, but the movie was getting close to its 102 minute runtime, so the camera just turned off.

This wouldn't be a Wolfman review without talking about the transformations and special effects, so here I go. Meh on both fronts. The werewolf transformations weren't awe-inspiring in the least. American Werewolf in London did the whole face-appendage-elongation thing 29 years ago, and did it way better. So my solution would be to not just stick with close-ups of hands and feet growing and changing, then quick face shots with the mouth open. I've seen that shit before, and I'm not impressed. Perhaps if it was done practically I might give it a pass, but it wasn't, so I won't. But the effects in general were hit-and-miss, with a lot of misses. There was an absolutely horrid-looking cgi bear in one scene that made my brain freeze and reboot. And I have a request for any special effects people who might be reading this: before we get any more shots of bi-pedal human-animal hybrids running on all fours, please make sure it doesn't look like shit. Thanks. As far as the blood and gore is concerned, well, werewolves sure do side slashes and head loppings a lot.

Pretty decent half-monster face, but it's been done better.

I feel I have to point out another pet peeve of mine. This applies to monster movies and straight-up horror films in general: STOP WITH THE JUMP-SCARES. Yea, I get it. 5 seconds of silence and camera-panning, then BAM! Scary thing with a shitty violin screech accompanying it! Instead of trying to surprise me with the same tactic 10 times, how about building actual tension and dread? It's a novel idea, I know.

In all honesty, the actual werewolf design was a bit hokey and it detracted from how bad-ass it should have looked. The filmmakers decided to lean heavily on the original design, which sort of looks like a really fucking hairy Guile (minus the blond hair color and tank top/wife beater). It's just, ummm.......no. And the numerous close-ups while running on all fours didn't help. At all.

In conclusion, I want to punch whoever is responsible for this disaster. A really cool monster movie/period piece is hidden underneath what turned out to be a rushed, poorly put together mess of a film. This thing could have been like an English-language Brotherhood of the Wolf, but instead we got stuck with a Lycanthropic Van Helsing. Oh, joy.

Public Introspection - JCVD (2008)

Right off the bat I'm starting with this clip, which is the opening scene of JCVD. It is in no way, shape or form indicative of the rest of the movie. In fact, put in context, it's the exact opposite of the film. But I thought it was an especially evocative opening, and once you've seen the whole thing, it gives some perspective as to how Van Damme sees (at least a part of) his career.

Once I had finished watching JCVD, I immediately had a LOT more respect for Jean-Claude Van Damme as an actor. He really did put a lot of himself up on display here, and the finished product speaks a lot toward some kind of redemption for him - both as an actor and as a person. It's not every day an actor allows a movie to capture parts of their personal life - complete with commentary - in order to seemingly help others on their own path. If I'm reading too much into the intentions of the film, then at the very least JCVD was a cathartic project for Van Damme, and maybe he can start making better movies from now on. I won't be holding my breath, but one can always hope (his IMDB isn't promising).

The film follows Van Damme as himself as he's going through a custody hearing for his daughter. In what I thought was a great touch, his wife's lawyer trots out the dvds of all of his movies and starts describing the different violent ways people are killed in them. "Run over by a car. Decapitated. Beaten to death." etc, etc. This is one example of Van Damme's self-critique that I found especially effective in terms of showing a man looking back at his life. Put another way, there aren't a lot of actors who would want to show the negative side of what they've been doing for the greater part of their entire lives, and certainly not in a movie they're starring in. So, props for that.

After the hearing, he gets a call from his lawyer saying the check he wrote bounced. So, off he goes to the post office to send the money. Oopsie, doopsey; he picked the wrong day to have a shitty legal battle over his offspring. As it turns out, three armed men are holding up the post office when he walks in, and he gets taken as a hostage along with everyone else. The gunmen decide to use him as their mouthpiece, presumably to stay as anonymous as possible. Obviously, the police think Van Damme is the lone perpetrator and act accordingly. The film makes good use of time and perspective, as it jumps between events to give the viewer multiple takes on certain situations. For instance, the first time you see Van Damme going to the post office, it's from the perspective of the video store dudes across the street, as they gawk and ask to pose for pictures with him. Later in the film, you get the same scenario, but from Van Damme's perspective. There are a lot of nice little directing touches throughout, and the film greatly benefits from this style. I was pretty impressed, being that I've never heard of the director before.

Now, there's a scene in particular I'd like to address. About three-quarters of the way through, Van Damme is sitting in a chair inside the post office. He's facing the camera, and all of a sudden he starts lifting upward - chair, camera and all. He lifts above the set, and you can see the fake walls, lights, and everything used to make the film. He stares at the camera and starts talking about his life. He talks about the highs, the lows, his regrets, his disappointments, and everything that made up the last 25 years of his life. It's pretty heavy stuff. The one thing I'll confess to is not knowing how much of his monologue was straight art, and what was really from the heart. Regardless, it all seems legit, and it's god-damned great. There are movies that have attempted to do this sort of thing, but a lot of time they shit all over themselves by doing so. But in the case of JCVD, for some reason it fit. It felt oddly organic, despite breaking all the rules set forth up to the point it happened. Basically, Godard can go fuck himself; this is how you eviscerate the 4th wall.

As I eluded to in my opening paragraph, this is not an action movie. There's tension in the post office, to be sure, but there are no ridiculous heroics by Van Damme this time. He doesn't ever round-house kick a baddy in the face, and he ( ! ) never does the splits in his underwear. In fact, there's a fantastic scene between him and one of the gunmen, where the guy wants Van Damme to do the ol' kicking a cigarette out of someone's mouth without hitting him trick. Van Damme obliges, and the only fanfare he receives is forced applause from the hostages at the behest of the robber. It's actually sad, in the sense that he's being reduced to barking on command to do a parlor trick. It's another example of the way Van Damme talks about his career without actually saying a word.

JCVD is definitely a breath of fresh air. An actor known for playing basically the same dude over and over again opens up and actually plays himself. It's not tongue-in-cheek, it's not hokey or pandering, and it's not something you would expect from Jean-Claude Van Damme. As long as you go into the film without any preconceived notions, you'll be alright.

Ghosts of Mars (2001) AKA Rap VS Metal

Every true film buff has gorged themselves on the tasty offerings of John Carpenter at some point in their viewing history. It's true that the quality of his work over the years has gone from so so to just plain shitty, but when he hits that cinematic sweet spot, you're in for a treat. 2001's "Ghosts of Mars" doesn't quite hit the spot, but it does tickle it a bit with a nice cup of Carpenter jambalaya chock full "o" little reminders of why we ever loved the guy in the first place. You see, watching Carpenter films is kind of like eating pizza. Even when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

At some point in the future, the red planet is terraformed, colonized, and governed by a matriarchal society. Women may be from venus, but they rule the men on Mars. The story is basically told through the flashbacks of Melanie Ballard (Natasha Henstridge). She's a smoking hot, leather clad, pill popping space cop whose mission was to bring outlaw James "Desolation" Williams (Ice Cube) to justice for the murder and decapitation of several miners. She came back to town alone, unconscious, and handcuffed inside a train running on auto pilot. So what the hell happened to her and her crew? Nothing good if you know John Carpenter.

Desolation Williams is supposed to have been caught and jailed in the remote mining outpost of Shining Canyon, but when Ballard and her crew arrive, they quickly realize that strange things are afoot. The place is dead, Williams is indeed in jail, but there are many other shredded corpses scattered throughout the town. So if he was in jail, who was dicing up the miners? It seems that while digging, the hapless workers accidentally released the "ghosts" of the title. Once freed, these ghosts possess the majority of the town and cause them to self mutilate and destroy anything and everything. A nice little booby trap from an extinct alien society to keep any other species from ruling Mars.

Cube knows how to survive in South Central Mars

The plot really doesn't matter at all because this is a total b-movie experience. What does matter is that anyone possessed dresses up like a heavy metal reject complete with unique body piercings and funky tattoos. Even the evil leader of the metal horde resembles somebody who has taken their love for Marilyn Manson a little too far. This doesn't sit well with Ice-Cube and his South Central upbringing and the stage is set for a rap vs. metal showdown.
The criminals and the cops must barricade themselves in the police station and work together if they are to survive the imminent attack. Carpenter vets should instantly recognize a little "Assault on Precinct 13" at this point.


Rumor has it that this guy played Paul in The Wonder Years

Honestly, this is not even a fraction as good as some of his past works, but I still find a lot to like about the film. Henstridge is solid as the hero, and is supported by some decent talent like Jason Statham (has the ability to make any movie line sound cool), Pam Grier (tragically underused), and that one guy that's in other stuff but you don't know his name. How could you have a Carpenter movie without his signature repetitive musical score? You can't because it would suck, so of course we get that here in full force! Most of John's staples are present, and I think I love the fact that he blends so many genres together for this one. It's a western.......no wait.....it's sci fi.....no wait.....it's horror. Actually it's all of those, but mostly it's an excuse for Ice Cube to shoot white people. Check it out, it's straight out of Compton G!



classic Carpenter music

Scream, Scream For Your Lives! - The Tingler (1959)

William Castle was a cool dude. He directed a handful of neat little horror films - a couple of which went on to be remade (one good, one not so good) - and while he will never be confused with the man he most wanted to emulate, namely Alfred Hitchcock, he will go down in history for trying his own brand of scare tactics. For example, if you were to have seen The Tingler in theaters, you could have been one of the lucky audience members to receive an electric jolt from your chair in the hopes of scaring you even further. Did the tactic actually work? I wasn't there to find out, but it probably did work on some people. Others probably thought it was annoying. My point is that Castle was at least inventive enough to try different, out of the box things to make his movies more exciting. He also produced Rosemary's Baby. Bonus points for that. The Tingler had moments of brilliance, to be sure, but it also left something to be desired in the monster that gave the picture its title.

The Tingler centers around the "scientific" (we all know how loosely the term is thrown about in horror films) experiments of Dr. Warren Chapin, played by the great Vincent Price. There's already something going for your horror movie if Price is starring in it, and The Tingler is no exception. He doesn't play the mad scientist type like one would expect. For the most part, he's actually a pretty decent guy. There's an incident with his bitch of a wife early on, but she deserved it. That bitch. Anyways, Dr. Chapin thinks he can isolate a physical being attached to the spinal column of every human being in the throes of absolute fear. The only problem is performing an autopsy on someone who died at the height of fear, while at the same time never vocalizing it by screaming. Where would you find someone like that? Why, Dr. Chapin just happens to know a deaf mute! Great success! Now, all he has to do is scare the shit out of her until she dies. I said Dr. Chapin was a decent guy for the most part. He still obviously has maniacal tendencies, but my only point was that he doesn't play the part of the unwittingly asshole-ish scientist who neglects everyone around him. Other than his going too far for the sake of science, he's pretty normal, which is nice to see.

Here's one of the more dramatically horrific scenes in the movie. It's a cool effect, even though you can tell an obvious quality difference in the camera used for the scene.

So after succeeding in killing a deaf mute for the glory of science and reason, Dr. Chapin then goes about trying to study the Tingler that was inside her. Of course, it escapes, and madness and mayhem briefly ensue. In fact, a Tingler isn't actually seen until right around that part in the movie, which, as it turns out, was for the better. The puppet they used for the Tingler was pretty damn awful, and it was only made worse by watching the strings pull it around every time it moved. And by every time it moved, I mean every time it moved. Oh, well, I guess. You get the good effects with the bad when you watch older movies. The clip above is an example of good effects.




But for the better part of the film, it doesn't rely on the stupid stringed puppet to elicit fear. To me, at least, it was more about going too far when it's obvious what you're doing is putting people in danger. Yea, yea, we've all seen a shit-load of movies that deal with that very same subject, but I think Price's performance makes it a little better than most other films that tried the same thing. The Tingler takes a two-pronged approach when dealing with what should and shouldn't be considered ethical and moral. Dr. Chapin thinks he's only doing what's necessary, while condemning another character for going too far. It's interesting to see a man rationalize his own behavior and actions, only to then go and scold someone else for doing something roughly equivalent.

The one thing I'll say about Vincent Price, even though I loathe to say it, is that he isn't the best overly dramatic actor. When a scene requires that he go a bit over-the-top, it doesn't usually work out very well. The same goes for when he needs to do something physically demanding. I think Price is at his best when he's cool, calm and collected. He can be creepy as all hell, a total prick, or the nicest guy in the world. But just like the rest of us, he isn't perfect.

This movie was made in 1959, and I don't think LSD was something the audience could identify as easily as we could now. Still...not a very convincing acid trip.

All in all, I'm glad I own The Tingler. It handles itself well when it comes to believable characters, and the morality play it was striving to be overrides the Ed Wood-esque monstrosity it tried to pass off as the actual Tingler. Vincent Price is awesome, that neat color trick I showed you above was cool, if a little gimmicky, and the two characters the story really dealt with kept me invested. I wish Dr. Chapin's wife (that bitch) would have got more of what was coming to her, though. It happened to Price once, so why not?

We May Be Trapped - Kaidan (2007)

Not to be confused with its 1964 predecessor, Kaidan is a drama first and foremost. Its horror elements play sporadically throughout the film, and it's not about multiple ghost stories. Subsequently, it doesn't sit quietly next to the rest of director Hideo Nakata's body of work. If he tried to make it a morality play, I failed to see the practical application of its moral core (life is unfair; deal with it?). That being said, I was engrossed in the characters and setting, and the trademark Nakata eeriness reared its ugly (pretty) head less frequently as one would assume, but to similar great effect. In fact, I would argue that it does a much better job of creeping the fuck out of viewers since it takes the time to build around its central characters. I don't know about you, but I cared just enough about the main characters in Ringu and Dark Water to get the job done. But with Kaidan, I think the characters and their world took center stage. The horror elements came in due time, but only after sufficient time was spent setting up the why. The why is very important when trying to manipulate emotions. Kaidan succeeded mightily in manipulating mine.



A nameless narrator begins the film by telling of a sad and gruesome tale of murder. Soetsu Minagawa was an acupuncturist. He had two daughters which he rasied alone after his wife's passing. I guess times were hard for acupuncturists back then, because Minagawa decided to lend money with ridiculous interest rates as a side business. When I say ridiculous interest rates, I'm talking literally over 200%. I'd be pissed if I borrowed from that guy. But if I agreed to his terms, oh well, it sucks to be me. But Shinzaemon Fukai didn't see things as I would have. Fukai was a samurai who borrowed 30 yen from Minagawa at some point. Years later, Minagawa came calling to collect the debt. According to his utterly stupid interest rates, Fukai owed him 65 yen. Yes, the interest rate was that high. If Minagawa was a credit card company, he'd be above the pack. Regardless, the debt was there, plain and simple. What would any ordinary, honor-bound samurai do in that situation? Pay his debt? Hah, I say to you. Why, no, in that situation, Fukai did what any other self-respecting asshole would have done. He killed Minagawa and dumped his body in a lake. Right on: no more debt. Maybe Fukai's subsequent maddness and suicide had nothing to do with this ordeal, or maybe fate grabbed him by the balls and squeezed. Either way, the last laugh was with Minagawa (who did say he would come back and kill him).



So that whole schpeil is the backdrop for the rest of the film. Both families had children, and their fates will forever be intertwined. By intertwined, I mean horribly mangled together in a clusterfuck of sadness with spikes of joy. I'm talking face-disfiguring and murderous. Good times. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. The film really plays out like a fantastic version of a low-rent melodrama. Its like all the peliculas and soap operas were somehow serviced with a complete and utter makeover; the cast replaced with believable actors; the plot toned down in every respectable way; yet the defiant fuck-you spirit to logic remains intact. Realistic in its intentions it's not; realistic in emotional appeal, it might very well be.

The film centrally deals with the rightful immaturity of one character (the younger male), and the incredulous immaturity of another (the older female). Both characters are linked by their familial pastimes, but neither one knows it. I tend to side with one in particular, but that might just be my overriding logical nature taking hold. Still, the chick is a bitch, and I wouldn't have put up with it. Basically, the daughter of the slain loansman becomes romantically envolved with the son of the asshole samurai. As fate would have it, the daughter of the loansmen has major issues and is obsessed with the samurai's son. He loves her as well, but not to the same extent that she does. She ends up dying, and the samurai's son can't live up to his promise he made to her before she passed. Honestly, it was a shit promise from the get-go, and I wouldn't hold him to it if it were up to me. But I'm not a psycho hose beast, so what do I know?

A walk in the pouring rain out in the middle of nowhere is a great romantic getaway.

The film has its fair share of Days of our Lives moments - double-crossings from characters who aren't even in the film save for this particular plot point - but it doesn't get bogged down in the minutia of randomness that daytime television succumbs to. Its characters, while not necessarily likeable, make the story worthwhile. I really don't think the main dude deserved any of what was coming to him, but that didn't hinder my engagement with what was going on. I think that's a testament to Hideo Nakata, who manages to keep a lot of his subtle horror intact while creating a much better overall dramatic experience. The one thing I'll knock the film for is the narrator. He's only used twice in the film - once in the beginning, and once about 3/4ths of the way through. The beginning was very much suited for narration. The second time it happens, not so much. It almost takes away from what the film tried to accomplish with the narration. Almost. It didn't distract me too much from what was going on, but instead just enough to notice. Oh well; no one is perfect, unless your name is Ridley Scott.



If you're looking for a straight-up J-horror movie, then most definitely look elsewhere. But if you want to experience a lot of what the best of J-horror has to offer, while at the same time getting a great dramatic, character-driven film, then Kaidan is your ticket. Just don't fall in love with it only to move on to other projects. If you end up without a head, at the very least don't blame me.

A Silent Talkie - Soft for Digging (2001)

Most of you have probably never heard of J.T. Petty, but he has a couple of really interesting films under his belt. His second film, Mimic: Sentinel, has some pretty heavy Hitchcock influences, and I admired what he did with the material. Tonight, however, I watched Soft for Digging, his debut horror/drama outing, and what I found was something more akin to a movie from the first two decades of the 1900s as opposed to a work created within the past ten years.

Save for one speech near the end, there are only six words of dialogue spoken by anyone. The main character, Virgil, only ever says one word: "Murder!" Yes, this is a film about a nefarious deed done to someone probably undeserving of it. But the most admirable thing about Soft for Digging actually isn't its full-on horror aspects; it's also a film about one man's relative isolation and limited dealings with anything outside of his own affairs. There are title cards to introduce each "chapter" of the film, and all they do is describe or set up the group of scenes to follow. Each chapter usually has one major thing going on. For example, the first chapter is about introducing Virgil and showing his cat run away. The cat is important, but you get to watch the film to know why.

A simple man in a simple cabin.

Anyways, the silence in Soft for Digging is almost deafening, in the sense that it tells everything about Virgil and all that's going on around him without the need for spoken words. He's a simple man who lives out in a cabin in the woods of Maryland, and he seems to be pretty content with life until he sees something that understandably shook every fiber of his being. A girl is murdered out in the woods, and Virgil just happened to be there when it took place. From that moment on, he's tormented with dreams of the girl and her murderer, and those dreams eventually prompt him to leave the isolation of his cabin in search of answers. To be honest, up until a good while into the film, I wasn't sure that he even saw what he thought he did. I figured he's alone a lot of the time, his eyesight might not be as good as it once was, and his mind basically filled in the rest. Boy, was I wrong. A murder definitely took place, and it's thanks to Virgil's take-it-as-it-comes demeanor that anything at all got done about it.

This is not a family picnic.

Until the end, the horror elements only show themselves in the dreams/visions of Virgil, and they're always designated by a few seconds of blackness and creepy sound effects, followed by the sequences themselves. They're like short, choppy nightmares that only give enough information for you to see that something is wrong, and Virgil is the only one who knows about it. The way the mystery is unveiled is extremely simple, yet resoundingly effective. There's no big production about what's going on - it just is. The lack of dialogue is probably the main reason for the uneasiness injected into almost every scene once Virgil's on the trail.

Here, Virgil tells the cops that he found the girl's body, but when they all go to dig it up, of course there's nothing there. Notice how the film doesn't rely on any spoken dialogue at all.

I guess I'll begrudgingly say that Soft for Digging isn't for everyone. The whole film is a build-up to a modest ending if you've seen a lot of horror movies, but for me the ending is perfectly satisfying. That, coupled with just watching the simplicity of Virgil's existence and how that simplicity was intruded upon was worth the 74 minutes spent with the film. Give it a shot if you're in the mood for something completely different.

How About Some Horror Classics? Candyman (1992) and The Entity (1981)

In my opinion, both Candyman and The Entity are both classics, but for vastly different reasons. If you were to watch them back-to-back, you would come away with two totally unique experiences. In the spirit of the season, I'll briefly give you my two cents as to what makes each film so great, with accompanying video and pictorial evidence for your perusal. The odd thing is that my latest horror kick really has nothing to do with it being October. Honest, I'm not lying to you. Anyways, here are two examples of masterpieces that should be on the shelf of any self-respecting horror fan.

Candyman

Candyman is great for a couple of reasons. For one, it's a maccabre, grotesque piece of psychological horror that doesn't treat anyone - viewers or characters - like they are idiots. The early '90s was home to a few horror gems that sort of blended the old school with the new. Jacob's Ladder is another worthy example. And with Candyman, you have a tortured soul who ends up becoming the stuff of nightmares: A seemingly immortal spirit who claims his victims for the sole purpose of keeping others afraid of him. Yea, there's nothing complicated about his motivations. He's a sick fuck who gets off on hearing his name mentioned when someone is scared out of their mind. If he really existed, we'd all be screwed.

The first appearance of Candyman. It doesn't go so well for Helen. Candyman seems to be having fun, though. And Tony Todd is fucking awesome.

How do you prove to a smarmy psychiatrist that Candyman is real? Split him open from the groin and then fly backwards out of a window. Durh.

I said Candyman is grotesque, and I really meant it. I don't think I've seen another movie with as many guttings starting at the groin area. That's fucked up. The atmosphere is almost dream-like for the most part, and for brief periods the main character, Helen - played to perfection by a gorgeous Virginia Madsen - can't tell reality from what she can only imagine is delusion. But as she gets deeper into the shit, it's pretty obvious to her that she's not hallucinating. Candyman is real, and he wants her to be some sort of eternal hellish bride. I guess that wouldn't be so bad, if only there wasn't the whole burning to death after being stung by about a million bees. In any case, Candyman is permanently on my list of great horror films. Based on a Clive Barker book, the maccabre doesn't get any better than this (and Hellraiser).

Is a sobbing Virginia Madsen, forced to strip while covered in blood, still hot?
No?


How about now?

The Entity

The Entity is pretty much the polar opposite of Candyman. There's no blood, no murdered slave back from the dead to wreak havoc, and not nearly as "sad" an ending. The thing that sets The Entity apart from other poltergeist or haunted house-type films is the brutality of the thing doing the haunting. It doesn't just move shit around and slam doors. In addition to those things, it also likes to literally rape its victims, repeatedly and without mercy. That's not very nice in my book. Carla is a single mom with three children, going to school while working a full-time job. In other words, just like a lot of other women. The only difference between them and her is that some kind of supernatural asshole keeps raping and attacking her in her own home.

Yes, both films have a bath scene. But The Entity's has more nudity and rape. I'm all for the nudity. The rape, not so much. It's quite brutal, actually.

One thing that I absolutely love about this film is Ron Silver's character, Dr. Sneiderman. He's Carla's psychiatrist, and also the best portrayal of a skeptic I've ever seen in any film. From the way he goes about trying to help Carla to the actual conclusions he reaches, he is pitch-perfect in showing how someone with reasoning based in the real world works out problems. I love it.

Here is a fantastic scene (my favorite of the whole film) in which Dr. Sneiderman tries his best to show Carla that it's all in her head. In normal circumstances, I'd be behind the Doctor all the way. But he's obviously not in the loop in this story.

The only thing that The Entity has in common with Candyman is the similarly hot leads. Barbara Hershey, like Virginia Madsen in Candyman, simultaneously does an amazing job with her character while being easy on the eyes. One thing takes skill while the other comes naturally, but to have both at the same time makes it that much more special.

Initially, Carla goes back-and-forth in her belief that she's making it all up in her own head.

I'll also quickly mention another aspect that both films share (ok I lied about them only having one thing in common). The scores are uniformly excellent. They both convey the overall emotions of each film to a T, and without that quality, the content of both would suffer. I can't stress enough how important the music is to a film that is relying on emotional investment. Bravo to both films and the filmmakers who had enough self-respect to not shit all over themselves in that department.

Alright, so you've seen the clips and read about how awesome both of these films are. If you've already seen them, then you can just relish in what a good decision maker you are. If you haven't seen them, you now have an opportunity to give yourself a lot of blissful happiness. It's up to you, but I'd recommend blissful happiness over, well, anything else. So what's it gonna be?

Torture, and Then Some - Martyrs (2008)

French filmmakers, man. What the fuck. According to the director, Pascal Laugier, Martyrs is an experimental film. I can instantly understand what he’s talking about. It’s like there are two separate films – one for the first half, and one for the second. At this point in my thinking, I’m not even sure if that’s a bad thing. I’m going to go into plot specific points after this paragraph, so be warned. Normally I don’t go into spoilers, but the things I really want to talk about require a tad bit of spoilage. I won’t give a blow-for-blow account of things, but just be forewarned that I’ll be mentioning details that you won’t want to know without seeing the film in its entirety. Anyways, I’ll say this about Martyrs: it’s not afraid to express an opinion, and that same brazenness might actually do the film harm. As of yet, I’m undecided as to what side of the camp I fall in. Maybe by the time I’m done writing, I’ll have a better understanding of what my full opinion is. We shall see.




The story centers around two women – one has been horribly abused as a child, and the other befriended her during their stay in some sort of orphanage. The ordeal was obviously traumatic, as the abused girl has near-debilitating hallucinations that manifest itself in reality in the form of self-mutilation. The set-up briefly shows the two growing to know and trust each other. And by briefly, I mean about fifteen minutes. The length of character set-up isn’t a problem; it felt like just enough explanation for what was to come for me to be satisfied. But the story quickly ramps up, when, about fifteen years later, the abused girl somehow tracks down the people who hurt her so long ago. And by hurt, I mean locked her in chains in a dank, dark basement in order to physically beat her with no mercy while feeding her just enough to keep her alive. By some freak chance of momentary mental lapse on the part of her captor, she escapes and lives to tell the tale. Naturally, the girl has severe mental problems, and the single thing on her mind is to track down the people responsible and dole out a good bit of fuck you justice. Aided by her childhood friend, her punishment is exacted in a way that only a psychotic could envision.




An important part of the film is what happens after the deed is done. The girl still can’t get rid of her imagined demons; in fact, they seemingly grow in intensity. Despite that, her loyal friend is there to help her though her trying times. Trying times that include murdering four people in cold-blood, but trying times nonetheless. I don’t necessarily advocate the killing of anyone, but I can put myself in her shoes in order to see why she did what she did. For one, she’s so mentally fucked up that a shotgun is just as good a tool for justice as an arrest warrant. In her case, rationality is about as far down the list as what brand of toilet paper to purchase during her next grocery store run (I always buy Angel Soft). At this point in the film there seems to be two themes running through it: being so deluded as to warrant rampant murder, and the thickness of a friendship bond almost overriding personal morality. I say almost because the deluded girl’s trusted friend second guesses her during a crucial part in the story. In fact, her second guessing will have an impact on her immediate future. What future is that? The impact is for you to watch, my friend.




Regardless, the story moves on from there. And here is where the schism presents itself. Up until now, the film was about one person’s mental delusions and what they lead to. The root cause was external, but her mind is so weighted down that it can’t function properly anymore. A mental delusion is not the same as an actual outside force surgically guiding the outcome of a given situation. If you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about at this point, that’s ok. But like I said, there are two different films vying for supremacy. In the end, I think neither one reigned supreme.

Once the deluded girl’s story is completed, her loyal friend’s saga is just starting. She is basically subjected to the same torture her friend endured, only now we as viewers have a better understanding as to the reasoning behind the fucked up human experiments. The long and short of it involves some kind of crazy fucking cult that is obsessed with finding meaning after death. Apparently, according to this cult, the meaning of death (and life after death) can be found through extreme suffering. They think that extreme suffering to the brink of death will result in some sort of insight into the afterlife. My first thought about this is that someone’s personal experience, regardless of the amount of suffering, will always be subjective. Truth has no bearing on these proceedings. Rather, each person’s individual suffering and revelation is unique to that person. To attempt to extrapolate an objective truth is patently absurd.




From that standpoint, the title Martyrs doesn’t sit right with me. In order to be a martyr, one would have to die for their own personal beliefs. The characters (or at least one character) in this film don’t live or die for any specific beliefs. Their situations are dictated by an outside force that doesn’t take into account their wants or needs. The whole point of being a martyr is that you die for your own beliefs in the face of contrary beliefs. The film offers up a definition of martyr meaning “witness”. If being a witness was the only attribute of a martyr, then the whole concept would be a lot less serious. However, another interpretation of the movie’s title could be that it comes from the point of view of the crazy cultists. They view their victims as martyrs dying for a cause, so in that sense I can agree with Laugier’s decision to name is his film after that.




I’ll quickly mention the gore and blood and all that, since, durh, it’s a French horror film, after all. It’s by far not the most graphic film I’ve ever seen. Inside, another French piece, is way worse on that front. Still, there are some truly shocking moments, and it’s definitely not light on blood. It’s a sick, twisted film, for sure, but it also doesn’t linger on about it as long as some other films. All in all, I think it has enough to satisfy the light to mid gorehounds among you. Oh yea, there is one holy shit moment towards the end, though. I’m not sure that anyone could actually survive it, but oh well.

[edit...] Maybe I'm full of shit about that, because the whole fucking thing is about getting tortured and beaten. Am I that desensitized? I do find this kind of shit gross and everything, but wow. I just said this film doesn't linger on about being sick and twisted, when that's exactly what it's about. Weird.


Anyways, life after death is something this film certainly concerns itself with. The only thing I come away with after the ending is that there is nothing after death. I happen to agree with that assessment, but being as objective as possible, that conclusion was artificially reached. The cult that tortures people only wants to find out what is out there once you die. When confronted with some kind of subjective perspective of what happens when the human brain suffers severe trauma, the leadership of the cult falls apart. Big fucking surprise. There were no scientific experiments that I saw, or anything that would constitute the scientific method. Just a bunch of crazies that had access to poor schmucks for their sick fucking fantastical experiments. Like I said, I’m not sure how I ultimately feel about Martyrs. But I would surmise that the simple fact I’m willing to entertain the ideas put forth in the film says something about its quality. In any case, I recommend you check it out and consequently contribute to the conversation. And hey, guess what? It’s light years better than fucking High Tension. Good lord, that ending blew ass.

[adding…] After having a day to think about it, I really do like every aspect of the film. I mentioned earlier that having two separate stories threw me for a loop, but I think the transition makes a lot of sense the way it was done, and it lets you see both main characters struggle through some horrendous shit. And when I was criticizing the cultists, I was doing so strictly in terms of how stupid and crazy cultists are, not because of bad writing or anything like that. So, basically, thumbs up all around for Martyrs. Woot!

Elementary my dear......Young Sherlock Holmes (1985)

Quite possibly the most famous fictitious character in all of literature is Sherlock Holmes. The first published work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's creation dates all the way back to 1887, and most people young and old are at least aware of the pipe smoking super sleuth and his sidekick Dr. John A. Watson. There have been four novels and fifty six short stories by Doyle, but countless other variations from other writers throughout the years. His popularity has translated to radio, television, and over two hundred appearances on film with Guy Ritchie's take hitting screens this Christmas. I'll admit to having never read any of the classic stories, and my first exposure to the detective came with 1985's "Young Sherlock Holmes." Directed by Barry Levinson of "Rain Man" fame, it's a totally off canon piece that suggests that Holmes and Watson met as young boys at a London boarding school and became entangled in their first murder mystery.

Revealing too much of the plot would totally spoil the many joys this film has to offer. Let's just say that there is a murderer on the loose at the Brompton Academy whose weapon of choice is a poison dart that drives victims to suicide with its toxic hallucinatory effects. These murder sequences are the standout moments of the piece and boast some truly memorable (even by today's standards) visual effects such as a stained glass window coming to life and terrorizing a priest.



All the special effects shenanigans would be for naught without the solid performances of the leads. Nicholas Rowe plays Sherlock as the cocky uber intelligent person you'd think he would be at that age, and Alan Cox (son of Brian Cox) is solid as the loveable albeit clumsy Watson.

The talent involved bringing this story to life is astounding. Chris Columbus (Goonies/Gremlins/Harry Potter) wrote the story, and none other than John Lasseter of Pixar fame helped put the F/X together. Don't be suprised if while watching it, you feel that the material would be right at home in an Indiana Jones tale. This is due to the fact that Steven Spielberg's Amblin Entertainment produced it. Over twenty years later, this film still holds up as fantastic celluloid magic. If you have any interest in the upcoming Holmes adventure, let "Young Sherlock Holmes" serve as the warm up act!

The Most Apt Title in Film History - Next (2007)

I have two other reviews I've yet to write, but I couldn't let this movie get away with rape without me at least calling bullshit. Next is one of the worst fucking things I've ever seen. Holy shit was it bad. I assumed going in that it would be terrible, but I didn't think it would make me look at Ed Wood in a slightly brighter light. Well...long live Ed Wood. At least he knew his movies were crap.

The best thing about Next was that it ended. I'm not going to bore you with most of the unfortunate details, because there are too many to name in the length I feel would be appropriate to give something this low in caliber. In a nutshell, the plot, acting, direction and special effects were all abysmal. I guess I can start with the special effects; there was nothing special about them. What's the point of using cgi for a shitty-looking water tower and fake train, especially when nothing is happening to them? There weren't any of either item the filmmakers could find? And the action shots were BAD. I'm talking Poseidon Adventure with Steve Guttenberg bad. I think that's the second time I've referenced that movie, so I should stop. But yea, the cgi in Next blew fucking ass.

Malcolm McDowell has nothing to worry about.

I don't even know why I'm writing this review. There are so many things wrong with this movie that I would use up Blogger's allotted bandwidth trying to describe it all. Have you ever noticed that weird panning camera effect that some low-budget movies have? Usually you only see it here and there, but it's almost like Lee Tamahori (the unfortunate director) was doing it on purpose. The whole movie was shot like it was DTV, and the director's apparent lack of giving a shit spilled over onto the actors as well. I've never seen so many blank, vacant stares before from a single person. Nicholas Cage should be ashamed of himself. By that, I mean he should stop collecting a paycheck and MAKE A FUCKING GOOD MOVIE AGAIN. I'm tired of seeing him in these shit-fests that nobody cares about. Don't get me wrong, Con-Air and Face/Off are both cheesy as all hell, but their worst moments are far superior to the best this debacle has to offer.

Don't worry, I'm almost done. I just want to quickly mention the gaping plot holes and horrendous writing, and that Alone in the Dark had better dialogue. Also, if you want to know what slumming it is like, just ask Jullianne Moore. But it's ridiculous how far Nicholas Cage has fallen, and I now have serious doubts about Knowing. At least that has Alex Proyas going for it.

There, now I'm done. Don't watch this bullshit.

Karate Kid pt II: sequel that kicks....summer 86!

Ah.....the summer of 84......I remember it very fondly for one particular reason. My mother took me to see "The Karate Kid" at the local twin cinemas. I was instantly smitten with the characters of Miyagi-san and Daniel-san.....come on......who wouldn't want to learn the secrets of Miyagi-do karate, smite the evil bully at the tournament, and go home with the beautiful girl? The crane kick in the end may be a little silly now a days...but if you tell me you didn't get chills the first time you saw it......I say you are a LIAR!!! Truth be told.....this film did not need a sequel, but Hollywood smelled the franchise opportunity and a couple of years later we had part II.

John Avildsen (of Rocky fame) returns to direct as does Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita. Instead of rehashing the plot of the first installment, (a mistake they made for the shit-tacular part III)
they wisely built upon the surrogate father son relationship established with Daniel and Miyagi. LaRusso's story took center stage earlier......but here he is just offering support to his best friend and teacher as they travel to Okinawa (filmed in Oahu Hawaii) to deal with a death in the Miyagi family, lost love, and a 45 year old feud between former best friends that has only grown more venomous over time.

Culture is a key force of this film as Daniel-san must cope with being in an unfamiliar land away from the burbs of L.A. He does not understand the Okinawan concept of honor or the consequences of insulting it........but quickly gets a crash course after meeting Chozen. You see....the top Karate student in Okinawa (played by the ever smiling Yuji Okumoto) is a bully who might beat him up.....but might also kill him if provoked to that point. Like in "Rocky" you know there's going to be a fight in the end and KKII constantly teases you with that promise.
When it happens it's a duel to the death.......and you'd never guess that Daniel-san pulls a new Miyagi technique out of his ass when the crane fails him.

"Live or die man!!????"

An exotic location........exotic love interest (the beautiful Tamlyn Tomita) and fantastic villains (props to Danny Kamekona as gravelly voiced Sato) make KKII a very worthy follow up to a beloved film. It's not better.........but it is great none the less. Too bad they didn't leave well enough alone and sweep the leg of the guy who asked "now how about part III?"

Thank You, Project Greenlight - Feast II: Sloppy Seconds (2008)

Holy shit, this was a fun one. I'm not even sure where to start. If you've seen the original Feast, you'll be happy to know that some of the characters return, as the film opens shortly after the first one ended. The incidentals in the set-up don't really need to be explained. It's about a group of people surrounded by monsters, just trying to survive. The characters are introduced, blood starts flying, and my giddy laughter begins shortly thereafter. Make no mistake, this movie is a bloody, shitty mess. It's no Cannibal Holocaust, but what really is? Instead, Feast II is way, way, way over-the-top with its gore. You won't ever find yourself believing what you're seeing, but some of the shit that happens is hilariously gross. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.




A lot of times in horror movies, there's the token asshole. But in Feast II, pretty much everyone is an asshole, so it's more like a totem pole of douchery. At some point, each character vies for the top spot on the pole, and that's really what this movie is about. The monsters themselves look pretty stupid, really. They all look like a bunch of dudes in suits, so if you're hoping for some bad-ass practical monster effects, you'll be leaving disappointed. There's one prolonged scene of dissection and puking with a gigantic eyeball inside a stomach which was fucking awesome, but other than that, the creature effects weren't too great. But again, as in the original, Feast II is all about the characters and what kind of ridiculously fucked up situations they can be put in. And believe me, as far as fucked up situations go, there are some doosies to behold here. Imagine a midget wrestler and a catapault. I'll say no more.




Another thing I absolutely love about this series is its willingness to be totally self-aware. For instance, one of the greatest examples of intentional plot contrivances is as follows: the aforementioned midget wrestler and his brother(also a midget wrestler) opened up the only key-making business in the town. So, naturally, once the plot gets going, everyone decides they need to get into the jail. If you didn't already know, jails are always the safest place to be in a horror movie. If you're ever being hunted by super-horny monstrosities with genitalia the size of sausage links(the big ones), you'll thank me. Anyways, the group's thought process leads to the midget brothers producing a key to open the front door of the police station. Oh, I almost forgot to mention the meth-addict hobo who's been holed-up in the locked-down station by himself since just about the beginning of the film. Right on.

No, it's ok, really. This is why most infant actors are twins.

But enough about meth-addicted hobos. Here's what you really want to know: "Is there any face-fucking?" Sadly, no, but a monster does fuck a cat, so you at least have that much. There was one instance where I really hoped one of the girls was going to get the super sausage, but alas, it didn't work out. I think they saved it for the 3rd movie, which is already out on DVD. Speaking of Feast III, I have to be honest by saying I absolutely have to see it. Before I watched Feast II, I vowed that I wouldn't watch the 3rd one, because it came out only 4 months after this one. Ordinarily I'd stick to my word, but I just can't imagine how John Gulager could up the ridiculousness ante without making it suck a lot of ass. If he pulls it off, I will be in a great amount of debt to him. In any event, lightning struck twice with the Feast series, and while it's not one of those old-fashioned "scary" horror movies, it offers a veritable cornucopia of gore, laughs and gross-outs. What more do you want from a B-movie horror flick? Nothing, that's what.

Oh, yea. Hot, naked biker chicks. They're in here, too.