You Know I'm Bad

Hop in!

We're riding over to Rupert Pupkin Speaks for my list of favorite (cough cough) bad movies.  Blogmaster Rupert has been inviting a slew of cinemaniacs over to his virtual crib to share the best of the worst, and I encourage all to browse through his recent archives for a ridiculously unhealthy, yet oh so enjoyable batch of recommendations.

And let's face it: you know you've found the right film loving community when you're not the first, but the SECOND person to mention The Guy From Harlem.

Like Beauty & the Beast, but with more killing

What happens in horror when common household goods get angry? Generally, really great things. For the audience. Observe:

The Refrigerator

Yes, this movie exists and yes, it’s fabulous. A young couple moves into a furnished Brooklyn apartment and find a vintage refrigerator-freezer welcoming them with a plate of cheese. Too good to be true? Naturally, as the titular appliance turns out to be a portal to hell (ironic, cause you know...refrigerators are cold). The fridge doesn’t do much in the way of menace, other than hiding your keys and occasionally closing back and forth on human bodies, but the film itself is quite a hoot. Plus, for extra bonus points, there’s a homicidal blender, house fan, and garbage can (that naturally kills by...closing back and forth on human limbs).\n\n

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats

How, you might ask yourself, could one possibly make a monster out of that giant rectangle you snuggle atop every evening? Apparently, with very little talent and money. Make no mistake: Death Bed is a terrible, terrible film that barely can be called one. Characters never actually speak to each other, instead taking turns narrating their emotions. No relationships make any sense. And the bed, ahhhhh the bed. It eats. Should you dare lie down for a nap, expect to be sucked inside so that director George Barry can show off the film’s sole special effect: gooey yellow plasma dissolving whatever floats. It doesn't quite end there, as we learn that while Death Beds don't dream of electric sheep, they do fantasize about spinning newspaper reels that highlight their killing sprees on the cover. It's kind of adorable.

Tourist Trap

Though it’s the eerie mannequins and evil mannequin maker responsible for most of the terror in this underrated 1979 classic, Tourist Trap does open with some very angry living room furniture, including a Beauty and the Beast-esque armoire armed with an arsenal of weaponry. Beware self-closing windows, flying dishes, and of course, the occasional knife with the mind of its own.

The Mangler

Cynics would say The Mangler was most likely inspired by Stephen King’s need for a new swimming pool. We can imagine America’s most successful horror novelist gazing around the house, hungry for some inspiration and thinking “well, nobody’s ever done a killer washing machine before.” I’ll give him and director Mick Garris a little more credit for eventually ending up with The Mangler, mostly because for all the film’s failings, it does find some innovation in using not just your average Maytag. Set in an industrial laundromat that thirsts for the blood of virgins, The Mangler epitomizes the cheap messiness of '90s horror, for better and worse. And hey: a killer ice machine costars. Anyone else smell a spinoff?

Maximum Overdrive

In 1986, a comet hits the world, mechanical objects of all shapes and sizes go postal, and Stephen King does a whole lot of cocaine. The results of all three are oddly fabulous, as everything from arcade games to a drawbridge take their pent-up rage against all things human (and in the case of a toy car, canine). Sure, the main attraction and biggest baddies is the well-trained army of mack trucks that round up a ragtag band of survivors at a gas station, but we should never forget that for all its bad movieness, Maximum Overdrive does boast a few unique kills. Who knew playing arcade games could be so dangerous?

Final Destination

Technically, it's more of an Invisible Man version of the Grim Reaper that does most of the slaughtering in this modern franchise, but considering the fact that every installment featured an inanimate killer, I couldn't not include it on this list. Examine:

Part 1: Killer water spill, Ginsu knives, violent computer

Part 2: Naughty sink holds jerk hostage in a complicated series of events leading to his eventual death via fire escape. The stovetop serves as an accomplice.

Part 3: Frisky tanning beds

Part 4: Clumsy lawnmower, cheeky chair

Poltergeist

It was not my intention to include any form of satanic or demon possessed doll on this list, as that warrants an entire encyclopedia of films that can't even be touched here. So ignore, for a moment, the laughing clown-faced elephant in the room and instead consider the many tangible and typically household objects turned angry meanies: a swimming pool, bucket o' chicken, kitchen chair, braces (Part 2) and mirrors (Part 3). This house can't be clean if you're afraid to touch the vacuum!

I expect--and really, kind of hope--I’ve missed an entire pantry worth of violent appliance films. Share yours below...right after you shut down the power and dispose of all batteries.

There Will Be Defrosting

At this past spring’s Chiller Theater, events happened that may have forever changed the world I live in for the better. 

1- I met Grant Cramer, the once and forever Mike Tobacco of a little great film called Killer Klowns From Outer Space

2-I learned that there may indeed be a sequel to that little great film premiering in my lifetime

3-I purchased a movie I had previously never known existed, 1991’s VHS only The Refrigerator

Numbers 1 & 2 need no further explanation in terms of importance. Number 3, however, may seem exciting only to the few who happen to know that my line of work (the kind I get paid for) involves household appliances. 45 hours or so a week, I’m immersed inside crispers and condensers, celebrating the easy cleanability of adjustable glass shelves while struggling to find something equally exciting to say about the more common wired. 

And now, let us never talk about that part of my life again.

Quick Plot: Two awfully unattractive people excitedly navigate their trashy Brooklyn apartment to make sweet pigly love on the floor, fuzzy back hair dripping with sweat and (thankfully) clothed anatomy never really aligning in ways that would produce orgasms or babies. Perhaps because it’s just as disgusted as we are, the vintage refrigerator watching over our lovers begins to stir and in the name of evil or eugenics, gulps them down like a Death Bed to a bucket of chicken.

Prologue over, we move to “Somewhere in Ohio” where a pair of bright-eyed newlyweds are excitedly planning a move to the Big Apple. Wife Eileen (Julia McNeal) dreams of being a Broadway star while husband Stephen (Dave Simonds) is eager to climb the corporate ladder. Before they can take the city by a storm, the Batemans need a place to stay which proves to be way easier than it should when a sprawling one bedroom (complete with some familiar antique appliances) is bargained down by the landlord at $200 a month. 

I'd be this happy too!

How great is this quaint little walkup? There’s a complimentary plate of brie smiling inside the fridge! Who WOULDN’T sign this lease?

Because nothing that’s ever too good to be true is, bad things start to happen with fairly obvious sources. Eileen misses an audition when the refrigerator cheekily hides her keyes. Stephen loses some work points when he gets a flat (though any man that would drive to midtown from Brooklyn in rush hour every day deserves some form of punishment). Eileen’s only solace comes from the apartment’s kindly super Juan, a sweet-natured Bolivian flamenco dancer who should totally come with every security deposit.

Naturally, Stephen grows jealous and seems to conclude the best medicine for a failing marriage is sex in front of your refrigerator’s open door.

And that’s not even half the plot of The Refrigerator. I’ve yet to mention the Batemans' psychic neighbor or Eileen’s Debbie Harried banged suicidal mother. 

There’s Stephen’s creepy passive aggressive attempts to start a family and a montage of Eileen taking Manhattan.

Between all these threads, the apartment refrigerator kills (naturally, just by closing back and forth) the super’s assistant and, we learn in a somewhat predictable yet still ironic reveal, that the titular chilly villain is a gateway to hell.

Let me start with fact: The Refrigerator is about 971.333 (repeating decimal) times better than Death Bed: The Bed That Eats . That doesn’t say too much, since that home video of your little brother’s first tuba concert is about 892x better than Death Bed but still: considering The Refrigerator has never had a DVD release, I was surprised at how decent this film turned out to be. With a tone akin to Basket Case,  director Nicholas Jabos creates and a light-hearted and fairly self-aware spirit that meshes well with the rather ridiculous premise of...you know, a refrigerator collecting human souls for something something.

High Points

Though it doesn’t get a payoff, the subplot regarding Eileen’s reluctance to start a family with her eager husband feels true to a young couple struggling with different ideas about their future timeline

Just a small touch but one I loved: the opening credits featuring vintage ads for overly exciting refrigeration

It’s a shame that McNeal and Angel Caban didn’t work more with these kinds of genre films. Both have genuinely likable presences and seem to really click with the quirky tone of The Refrigerator, making us actually care about their characters’ fate

Um. This:

Low Points

No man should ever use “my little kissing fish” as a term of endearment

I shouldn’t really complain about unresolved subplots in a movie about a killer refrigerator, but it would have been nice to learn a little more about (yes, I’m really about to say this) the history and nature of said menacing appliance, plus the result of the Batemans coupling in its frosty glow

Lessons Learned

Making soup that would be ready twenty minutes after you’re scheduled to leave the apartment isn’t the best idea you’re pretty blond head has ever had, is it dear?

Getting something in writing is usually the best way to secure a deal (surprisingly sound advice from Hector the slumlord)

You should know your refrigerator is working for the devil (aka El Diablo) by the mere fact that it’s hanging out next to your stove (a dumb move that decreases the energy efficiency of your unit because higher ambient heat means your refrigerator is constantly working harder to maintain its cold after you open the door and wow I should stop talking about this already)

Rent negotiation was ridiculously easy and wonderful in the early ‘90s

Satanic refrigerators especially hate humans with poor fashion sense in headware (observe the late Paco’s silly pastel cap and Mom’s weird choice in geometric bangage)

Winning Ling

I am the wafflemaker!

SInce a character triumphantly announces this upon waking up, I’m willing to declare The Refrigerator a worthy followup to Dream Warriors for inheriting the title of ‘best nerd self-titling ever.’ This line may very well be more exciting than “In my dreams, I am the wizard master.” Time will tell. 

Rent/Bury/Buy

At this point in time, The Refrigerator (to my knowledge) is only viewable on VHS or fuzzy transfers. Is it worth the price tag? Probably not, but darn it did I have a good time with this film. Putting aside my own bias as an employee of a refrigeration company, The Refrigerator is rather charming. The characters are enjoyable, the plot appropriately ridiculous, and the filmmaking low budget for cuteness yet slick and competent in execution. $10 on a grainy transfer may be a tad steep depending on your taste in goofy, good-natured cheese, but those who enjoy these kinds of films (i.e., me) may be sated and hey: anything to spread the word around the genre community. After all, if Death Bed: The Bed That Eats has its own special edition DVD, surely a cheery lil gem like The Refrigerator at least deserves a warranty.

I Said Brrrrr! It's Cold In Here. There Must Be Some Chiller Theatre In the Atmosphere

No, I shouldn't even try a fake cheer. Just know that this past weekend was the biannual Chiller Theatre Convention in New Jersey so naturally, I put on my best pair of sneakers to troll crowded vendor floors and tiptoe around celebrities I wanted to ogle without paying.


This installment was by far one of my favorite experiences, and only part of that involved the toasted coconut pancakes eaten twenty minutes before entering the elegant halls of the Parsippany Hilton. Highlights, plain and simple:

1. Telling Ruggero Deodato that I loved The Barbarians, and hearing his enthusiastic response that the film is finally going to be available on DVD in the near future. Also, I think I referred to Cannibal Holocaust as "beautiful." Thankfully, he did not respond by offering me turtle meat.

2. Telling his table buddy Sergio Martino that I loved Hands of Steel  (I'm sure he gets that ALL the time) and finding out that his next film is supposed to shoot somewhere in Pennsylvania. For some reason, that disturbed me.

3. Buying these:

One of which stars a wrestler from G.L.O.W. (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, for those uninformed), one of which is post-apocalyptic and involves rollerskating, and finally, a film I can't believe I didn't know existed, The Refrigerator, something I'm sure will put Death Bed: The Bed That Eats to the napping hall of shame.


4. Having a strange interaction with Lou Ferrigno (at the urging of Dear Friends Erica and Lisa) where we got a Polaroid photo (taken by a stranger just wandering the room) with the Hulk then spent about 20 minutes trying to decipher what he actually signed. Theories include "Lou the Hulk," "Love the Hulk," "Lou something Hulk," and "Lou Diamond Philips." Either way, I got to tell him that I loved his work in ...And God Spoke, and he smiled.

5. The highlight, by far:

Now obviously, Killer Klowns From Outer Space is in the treasure chest here at the Doll's House so the idea of meeting Grant Cramer (aka Mike Tobacco) evoked all sorts of inner swoons. What really creamed my pie, however, was how gosh darn nice a dude he was. This was apparently Mr. Cramer's first convention outing, and he seemed to be having an enjoyable time, or at least he tolerated my gushing, theorizing, and explanation of why Killer Klowns and The Happening should never share the same sentence. Best of all, my head nearly exploded when I learned that the Chiodo Brothers and Mr. Cramer have been developing a--hold your breath--SEQUEL to what is, quite simply, the definitive cult film of my generation. It seems a ways off but something that actually may indeed hopefully maybe yes indeed I hope I said I hope will get made someday. Sadly, it's not based on my idea for Klowns In Space , but hey, after 22 and counting years, I'll take anything.

So that was my lovely Sunday, capped by the debut recording of a lil cupcake called the gleeKast . Looking forward, I now order you to mark your calendars for the August 20-22, when Monster Mania mashes into Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and I attempt to befriend special guest Tim Curry via my own reenactment of the entire plot of Clue.